#I’ve been working up to doing something for me lately and so that’s something I’m still working toward | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tofics · 3 days ago

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🥲 With the way my period went last week, this fic was on my brain constantly. But my god, Bug, I needed time to digest this masterpiece. (I've also saved various of your other works in my drafts to comment on later. I apologize for the reblog spam that is about to happen.)

Kay, now. Let's dive in, shall we? 🥰

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

What a sweet, sweet, kind man. If I woke up to a freshly cleaned bathroom while on my period, I'd probably cry.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

🥲 Ma'am. I get it. But. The sweet man.

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it.

Sorry, did you say saint??? Saint Joel???

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.” “I said yes,” you snap. Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you.

😫 The disrespect. The bitten cheek. (Loved that bit. His annoyance is growing, but he's still keeping his cool. Again, did someone say saint??)

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually.

S' OKAY, SWEET BABY. C'MERE. MAMA'S GOT YOU.

“Your glasses broke.” “Yeah. I see that.” “I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively. “Right.” “But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.”

“You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says.

S' okay 🥲 I was a bitch 🥲 I deserve it 🥲 Do with me as you please 🥲🥲🥲

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.”

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

🫡 Sir yes, sir.

“Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.”

I have really bad news for you, then. Ahem.

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

Ohhh, he's done done. I just *loved* this bit. The frustration, how fed up he is with the reader. Suddenly you're concerned about causing a little bit of work? Oh, hohoho, no no no. Too fucking late.

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary.

😩 Ma'am. Please. I can only take so much. The hotness in just this ONE paragraph. PLEASE. 😩 "An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary." 🥲 I am a puddle on the floor.

Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.

🫠🙃🫠🙃

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.”

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

*inhales* - *screams*

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over… “It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.”

😶 I have died and am now reading this from the depth of hell. Fuuuuck me!

“Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.”

The fucking "I know"s kill me. Like, I didn't know two simple words like that could do the things to me that they're doing. But here we are. Is that a kink? Is there an "I know" kink? I think I have it.

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?”

😭😭😭 SAY IT WITH ME: JOEL MILLER IS A FUCKING SAINT. A SAINT THAT FUCKS, BUT A SAINT NONETHELESS.

Christ on a cracker, this was delicious from start to finish. I think you have had a lasting impact on how I see (and am trying to write) smut. 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Thank you indeed. 🙌 A masterpiece!!!!

Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder.

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.”

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.”

“Mhm.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.”

You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps.

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.”

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.”

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice.

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.”

“I said yes,” you snap.

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.”

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being -

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected.

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.”

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.”

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song.

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.”

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.”

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch.

“The other one.”

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace.

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him.

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?”

“Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.”

“No. It was burning me.”

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.”

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.”

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you.

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.”

“You can ask, you know.”

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.”

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.”

“Yes.”

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?”

“It’s not your business.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.”

“I don’t want to,” you whine.

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.”

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.”

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.”

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip.

“All of it.”

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.”

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?”

“Somewhere else.”

“Right. Somewhere else.”

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you.

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?”

“Yes.”

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.”

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck.

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass.

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is.

“Joel.”

No answer.

“JOELLLL,” you yell.

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.”

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?”

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.”

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?”

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too.

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you.

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel.

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.”

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now.

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper.

“Exactly.”

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says.

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs.

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while.

“Figures.”

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that.

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it.

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before.

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure.

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized.

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.”

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it.

And fucks you, and fucks you.

And keeps fucking you.

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.”

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

“Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.”

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle.

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?”

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

“But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.”

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.”

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.”

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head.

“Super, yeah. Sore.”

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

#read list #joel miller #fic rec

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papaya-twinks · 3 days ago

Text

get over it! - l.n - p.2

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mental breakdown, breaking glass.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - sorry this took so long, I was doing all Lando’s birthday ones x

parts 🧡

Time Skip - Formula One Baku Grand Prix Pre-Race

Baku had always been a city of contrasts—historical yet modern, chaotic yet beautiful. And today, it felt like the perfect reflection of Lando's mood as he walked down the paddock, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, jaw clenched tight.

Since your little ‘incident’ with Lando at Qualifying, you’d made sure to steer well out of his way. You would rather not be blamed for his driving by Zak or Andrea anyhow. It did slightly piss off the mechanics on Lando’s side of the garage, however.

Your energy was something that helped a lot of them to keep going, and now you were steering clear of Lando’s while side of the garage. You hadn’t even noticed him sliding into Oscar’s garage, as you handed around drinks.

“Y/N,” he said, tapping you on the shoulder, your shoulders immediately raising defensively, your head turning away from, signalling your dislike in speaking to him. “Y/N," he pressed, this time with more urgency. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, still not looking at him. "I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” you said simply, handing some of Oscar’s mechanics some drinks. "You’re avoiding me," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can’t just walk away, not after what happened,” he said firmly.

“Yes I can, besides, why do you even care? It’s not like you to do so,” you said, placing your tray down, taking some new cups from the stack. “Some of my mechanics are pissed about you not being in the garage and stuff,” he mumbled, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, and they made you drag your ass here to ask?” you asked, a scoff on your lips as Lando rolled his eyes. “Sorry for asking you to do your own damn job,” he snapped, his voice filling with the frustration and bite from earlier.

“Let me do my fucking job, and stop talking to me, then,” you said, your voice with equally as much spite as you glared at him, his jaw set firm, eyes narrowed. You rolled your eyes, walking past him, your chin held high - so what if he was a driver? He didn’t own you!

You’d had many fights with Lando, countless, some of them about such minor things, you almost laughed when you looked back at them. Of course, there was a time, even after the Sochi incident, where maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could have forgiven you.

But then again, it was Lando Norris. He’d do anything just to fuck shit up.

Flashback - 2021 Mexican Grand Prix

It had started innocently enough - a late-night discussion about his diet. He had asked you to double-check his hydration formula before heading to the gym. You’d pointed out that it didn’t seem balanced, that he'd been skipping meals. He’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But that was just the start.

“Why do you always act like you know better?” he had snapped, voice low but cutting. “I’m the one racing out there. You’re just a helper,”. His words stung. You didn’t respond immediately, too shocked by the sudden shift in his tone. But when you did, your voice was tight with restraint.

“Just a helper?” you’d repeated, incredulous. “I’ve been working with you for years, Lando. Don’t act like I don’t know how to do my job,” you had said, your voice edged with a hint of shock and hurt. “You don’t work with me, Y/N, you’re not on my level, you won’t ever be on my level. You work for the team, at least get it right,”.

“You can’t just skip meals and expect your hydration to be perfect,” you had replied, a little more firmly. “Your body needs food to process all the fluids properly. If you’re running on empty, no amount of water is going to make a difference.”

“I’m fine,” Lando shot back immediately, his tone defensive. “I told you, I’m good. I just didn’t feel like eating. It’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice becoming more and more frustrated. Why couldn’t he understand what you were saying? And why did all your arguments have to be centred around water?

For a moment, it seemed like Lando was going to say something else, but instead, he crossed his arms, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “I don’t need a babysitter, Y/N. I’m not a child. I know how to do my job,” he had said, his eyes narrowed once more.

The words hit harder than they should have. You’d been working with him for quite a while, supporting him in every way you could, and this was the first time you felt like he didn’t appreciate it. “I never said you were,” you had said, your voice cold now, your patience worn thin.

“But when you start acting like a diva and skipping meals while I’m the one having to pick up the pieces, then yeah, maybe I do need to step in,” you said, your jaw set firmly and your eyes narrowed. Lando opened his mouth to retort, but you turned away before he could, your back to him as you grabbed your tablet from the table.

Your hands had been shaking with frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “I don’t have time for this right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I’ve got a hundred other things to do,” you moved to his door, only stopped by his voice.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you. After a long, charged silence, he finally spoke. “You think I’m just acting like a diva, huh?” he asked, his voice colder than you would have thought, sharp and almost like a snarl.

“Im not the one who fucking acts like I run the whole team off my own back - all you do is give water to people, Y/N, you’re useless!” he snapped, his voice raising as you flinched. “Useless? I’m not-,” you started, your own voice becoming louder.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You think, just coz a few people like you, that you’re the one managing this whole team? You don’t do shit, Y/N, you’re not important! People would be sad you left your day or two and forget about it, okay? You’d be replaced in an instant, you have no skill!”.

All of this. Over a water plan. “I…fuck you, Lando,” you said, your eyes brimming with tears, voice cracking as you stepped out the door, not even sparing him a glance as you rushed away from him,”

Present Time - Formula One Baku Grand Prix

Sure, you were pissed at Lando, but it really wasn’t fair to take it out on the whole team, do, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself to Lando’s side of the garage to hand out refreshments, much to the relief of the mechanics and engineers.

Just imagining if Sochi had never happened in 2021, or you’d never said the comment that you’d said, it would’ve been some different, and you would’ve been cheering and going crazy with the team, watching Lando climb higher and higher from his low position.

You could practically feel the tension radiating off of Lando’s car, the stress of a potential championship fight that could be washed away due to one bad qualifying session, or the struggles of getting through to at least a points playing position, everyone was on edge.

Lando had a lot of positions to make up if he wanted to salvage his weekend, or at least begin to try and gain some points. And boy, did he make up positions. One after another, he passed car after car, refusing to let the mistake of qualifying 16th define his race. He was determined to prove himself.

As the race wore on, Lando's mood lifted. Every overtake, every clean pass, brought him closer to his goal. He had no idea what position he was in now—he was just racing, just pushing harder than he ever had. When the final laps came, he found himself fighting for 4th. And when he crossed the line, there it was: 4th place.

But all you could do was bury it deep inside of you and push Lando out of your mind - sometimes there were times when you wished you could have screamed and cheered with the team, like in Miami. But you had Oscar’s current winning margin to distract you from the hurt in the pit of your belly.

Time Skip - Post Race - Baku

The mechanics jostled round the garage, all talking, but slowly leaving, exiting the garage as the sky darkened, a pale shade of greyish-blue, a colour you found quite beautiful actually. Like a reflection of the ocean, in some ways.

“Why are you still here?” a voice snapped you from your train of thought, ruining what was otherwise quite a peaceful movement, your gaze forced sway from the clouds. “None of your business,” you scoffed, picking up your drinks tray from the side as Lando stared.

“I mean, kinda is,” he replied, his nose scrunched distastefully, like you were something or someone lower than him, which was how he perceived you anyways. “Everyone else has gone home,” he pointed out.

“Cheers Captain Obvious,” you said sarcastically, the glasses tinkling on your tray, some with lines of red wine at the bottom, beams of white from the lights above reflecting off the glass. “Whatever,” Lando said, his voice nearly a mumble as he dug he is hands into his pockets.

“Look, I’d appreciate if you stayed the fuck out of my way,” Lando said sarcastically, “I can’t stand your stupid presence,” he snapped, “there’s nothing to fucking be so happy about, I can’t have you annoyingly positive energy around all the time,”.

“Excuse me?” you said, not quite sure what to say after that little outburst of his came from. “You heard me, you’re stupidly positive and all you do is frolic around with that stupid little tray of yours,” Lando snapped, pushing the tray out of your hand, the plate clattering onto the floor, the glasses shattering at your feet.

“Lando, what the fuck is your issue?!” you half-screamed, scrambling away from the shards of glass scattered on the floor, cutting at the soles of your sneakers. “Just….fuck off, okay?!” he said, his curls a messy heap on his head, his eyes wild.

He looked on the verge of a full breakdown as you stared, in shock at the whole thing. He’d been fine a few seconds ago, what the hell had happened? “Lando, I didn’t-,” you started, raising your hands almost in surrender.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, Y/N!” he covered his ears, “Just fuck off!”. You said nothing, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stumbled back, away from the glassy heap on the floor, and rushing away from the garage. You’d never seen Lando break down before.

Was he…Was he okay?

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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certifiedsexed · 3 days ago

Note

hey there! i don’t mean this in bad faith at all, and i’m not trying to use a term that’s a fascist dogwhistle. i promise i’m just confused😭

so i’m not a guy, nor have i ever been perceived as one, but in one of your recent posts, you said that men can’t experience oppression solely based on the fact that they’re men. which was kind of confusing to me — i don’t think you’re wrong, i think it’s me but i don’t know how to get to how you see it like that.

because in my experience, men can experience oppression because they’re men, although i don’t know if i’m saying that right or conflating the meanings of certain terms. i’m probably wrong, and would just love some clarification?

for example, my brother and i were always held to different standards growing up — it was expected of me to always cry and be emotional, and i was a ‘stone cold bitch’ if that wasn’t the case, but if my brother wanted to show negative emotions like sadness he was treated like there was something wrong with him too. and i know it wasn’t my brother — i spend a lot of time working with my high school’s diversity team, and in a lot of the events we organise, guys talk about how they feel enormous pressure to be angry and never sad, and to have stereotypically masculine interests and never deviate from that norm.

i also know men who’ve struggled to get jobs such as teaching as those are viewed as ‘female’ jobs and it’s a common view that men who want those jobs are ‘only in it to be around kids’. i’ve heard many women around me perpetuate sentiments like that, so i know they’re not making it up, even if it isn’t equal to the systematic oppression women face in almost every aspect of their careers.

i’m not providing these examples to prove you wrong, since i do think you’re right. i’m hoping that a window into the way i’ve always thought might help you clarify this in a way that can help me to change my mind, since i just think i’m lacking some clarity or context here. i think i’m conflating abuse and stereotypes with oppression, but i’m really not sure. any advice would be really appreciated!

i’m so sorry if this comes off badly, i don’t mean it that way. i’m just trying to learn, i promise i’m not trying to promote the kind of hate and close mindedness you’ve been seeing in your inbox as of late.

Hi! As always, I do not mind answering genuine questions!

The things you're talking about growing up and seeing boys around you pressured to present only certain emotions, that's part of the patriarchy!

Certain emotions are supposed to be "feminine" and thus boys shouldn't show them, while girls are often always considered "emotional" in some fashion. That's not oppression based on those boys being men that you're talking about.

It's the backlash that the patriarchy, and by addition trans/misogyny has on men. It's boys being pressured not to show certain emotions because those emotions are "feminine" and they're supposed to associate feminimity with weakness and shit.

What you're talking about there is also trans/misogyny!

The idea that men who do things perceived as feminine are predators, the idea that specific jobs are "female" jobs [while even in those specific female jobs, men are generally paid better and find it easier to get into those jobs than women trying to get into traditionally "male" jobs"]

[Though obviously this varies based on race and whether they're trans, etc, etc.]

To be a little more clear, all of the things you're talking about don't primarily affect cis men/boys. They fuck up transfems, because it's trans/misogyny.

You're right! It's not systemic oppression.

You might wonder if it's social oppression, which is also a no. Social oppression would require a historical/systemic oppression behind it. But that doesn't exist in this case.

What it is is the common issue oppressors run into. While they benefit greatly from oppression, there is also backlash they face from their own systems of oppression.

Like white people who fall into suicide cults trying to work towards white supremacy, or TERFs who fall into groups where they slowly pick each other off as they discover they're not all exactly the same and wind up accusing each other of not being "real" women, systems of bigotry simply do not work out perfectly even for the oppressors.

They never do.

To create the patriarchy, you must establish trans/misogyny, you must establish intersexism and you must push people to conform to those ideals, even if they hurt your own.

It's similar to how white supremacy can harm white people, despite white people obviously not being oppressed racially. The backlash of oppression hits even the oppressors sometimes.

Suppression, as a term, would honestly work far better to describe what you're talking about.

So yes, it's stereotyping, yes it's abusive to tell your children not to show/feel their emotions but it's not oppression based on these guys in your life being men! It's part of how trans/misogyny, transphobia and intersexism are enforced.

I understand exactly where you're coming from! It doesn't sound bad and I genuinely don't mind answering questions! Especially since you've got some good ones!

I'm not sure if I rambled too much to explain this properly but I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions and/or need me to clarify anything here. <33

#sex education #asks #misogyny education #feminism #transmisogyny #intersexism #transphobia

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crimsonwolf715 · 3 days ago

Text

Used as Bait

Jason and Tim, who have been goofing off since getting out of the Batcave, finally arrived at the GCPD building thirty minutes after they were supposed to be there.

“Got anything for us, Gordon?” Jason asks.

Gordon looks up from his file, then looks back down.

“What is he doing?” Jason asks.

“Ignoring us for the mandatory five minutes because we wasted his time,” Tim answers. “He put it in place when B got into the habit of making a meeting and then being late for it.”

“And B hates having his time wasted.”

“Yup. And to be fair, we’re like thirty minutes late. Gordon does usually have some grace if we’re not too late.”

Jason takes his helmet off and starts messing with his hair.

“Is something wrong?” Tim asks.

“Nope,” Jason answers. “We’re just gonna be seeing Maria before patrol’s over.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“No, of course not. You’re the only one that will let me.”

“You have to do something for me.”

“Fine.”

Gordon offers the file to Tim, so he takes it.

“Maria your girlfriend?” Gordon asks.

“Nah, she’s just a friend of mine. But she lives and works in a bad part of town, so I like to try to walk her home,” Jason answers. “She can handle herself, but I literally take out bad guys at least twice a week.”

“That didn’t work with Barbara,” Gordon says.

“Yeah, your fiercely independent daughter didn’t want your protection. Maria isn’t a fan of me feeling obligated to walk her home, but she likes that I like to walk her home. We get to talk.”

“Huh.”

“We’ve got a possible meeting of gangs?” Tim asks.

“That’s the thought. We have two officers over there you can meet,” Gordon says. “I want this dealt with tonight if you two can.”

“Will do, boss. I’ve got something to do at midnight,” Jason replies, “and Red’s got a date with Spoiler.”

“I already said that I’m not dating Spoiler,” Tim says. “You’re just telling people to get a rise out of me.”

“Maybe. We’ll come back when we’ve got something for you.”

“Just call,” Gordon replies. “I’m gonna be in a meeting and then two briefings for the rest of the night. If you really need anything from me, just call.”

“We will,” Tim says, then the two of them head towards the location in the file.

They get to the location and there’s an undercover cop car there, just like Gordon said there would be. Tim’s phone rings, so he looks at it.

“I need to take this. Can you get the info from the officers?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Jason answers, “but it’ll cost you five dollars.”

“Shut up and go over there.”

“Whatever.”

Jason walks over and knocks on the window. He looks inside and nobody’s in the car.

“Weird,” Jason mutters. “Where did they go?”

“Red Hood?”

Jason turns and there’s an officer standing with two cups of coffee.

“Gordon sent me and Red Robin to help you guys with the incident,” Jason says. “Where’s the other officer?”

“He’s not in there?”

Jason shakes his head.

The officer quickly strides over and looks in the window. “Oh shit, where could he have gone?”

Jason shrugs, then turns in the direction to check on Tim. Tim’s not standing where he was a minute ago. Jason goes to look around when he feels a needle in the back of his neck.

“Nighty night.”

Jason swings his elbow and manages to hit the guy in the face with it before he passes out.

Tim wakes up to complete blackness.

“You’ve failed me,” Batman’s voice says.

“What?” Tim asks.

The scene around him turns from black to a full color image of the city in flames.

“What happened?” Tim asks.

“You failed, and we all paid for it.”

He sees his entire family, bleeding out while the villains are close by celebrating.

“No, no,” Tim says, shaking his head. “This can’t be real. I… we hold each other up. I can’t be the reason they’re dead.”

“The most pressure on you to succeed,” Cass says.

“The most pressure to get everything right,” Dick adds.

“It’s your fault we failed. Your plan went south and we paid the price for it,” Damian says.

Tim tries to calm himself down so he doesn’t hyperventilate, but the scene changes to the manor and Tim sees Jason sitting on the couch, reading a book. His blood is still pumping from the stress and anxiety, but he feels a small amount of comfort in the sight of his brother. Tim runs over.

“Jason!”

Jason doesn’t look up or acknowledge him.

“Jason?”

“I don’t want to be around you,” Jason says.

“Why?”

“Because who would want to? You’re annoying, uninteresting, and unable to hold a conversation.” Tim opens his mouth to argue, but Jason continues. “The only reason that Bruce took pity on you was because he was a basket case. If I hadn’t died, you wouldn’t be around. Not even Dick likes being around you, and he likes being around everyone.”

Tim can’t help the rage that floods him at that moment, especially hearing it from Jason. He was the only one around to help when everything was going up in flames, and any of them feel like they have the right to complain?

“You’re utterly useless, Drake,” Damian says, appearing out of thin air before Tim can get any farther in his thought process.

The world goes back to black as Tim tries to figure out what’s going on.

“Time for you to sleep now.”

Tim recognizes the voice and he searches for Mad Hatter. He feels himself starting to lose consciousness, but starts thrashing around when he feels something with a similar feeling to a mask being pulled over his face. He passes out without succeeding in getting the mask off.

Jason wakes up to complete darkness. He hears a familiar laugh that sends a chill up his spine. Jason struggles against the restraints, starting to hyperventilate. Joker comes into view with a bloody crowbar.

“Ready for round two, little bird?”

Jason breaks the restraints and throws a punch at Joker. It goes right through him and he starts laughing again.

“Batman’s favorite toy, how does it feel? You almost caused the downfall of Batman with your death. It must feel fantastic to know that you almost succeeded in your goal solely by getting your head bashed in and then inhaling a little smoke,” Joker says.

Jason throws another punch at him and it goes through him again. Jason gets his feet untied in enough time for the scene to disappear. Something knocks Jason off balance and he lands on his back. He blinks and when he opens his eyes, he’s lying down in a wooden box. Jason starts trying to bust the box but no matter how much force he uses, it doesn’t break.

He can feel the oxygen getting thinner. He’s panicking too much and while he knows it, he can’t seem to get his breathing to slow down. He can’t seem to stop panicking. No matter how hard he tries, he’s stuck in this coffin of dread. He squeezes his eyes closed.

“Dad!” he cries out, hoping that Bruce is right outside to save him.

“No father to save you. There never was,” Joker’s voice says. “You really think that Batsy ever loved a little screw-up like you? No, he only pretended to. His savior complex made him take pity on you.”

Jason shakes his head, refusing to believe it again.

“My dad loves me!”

Joker laughs, taunting and mocking Jason.

“Time for you to sleep now.”

Jason doesn’t recognize the voice and he searches for the person attached to it. He passes out as it feels something go over his face, like a mask.

Dick’s watching TV, waiting for Damian to call him to discuss the details of Damian spending the weekend with him. Currently he’s watching a rerun of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but he’s only half-watching it. The screen goes black, drawing Dick’s full attention back to it. The screen glitches, then shows a close-up of Scarecrow’s face. Dick sits up. The camera backs away from Scarecrow’s face enough that you can see more of him.

“Hello, Gotham,” Scarecrow says. “This isn’t for many of you, so feel free to ignore. Batman, on the other hand, we have your little birds.”

The camera moves to show Jason and Tim in full uniform, clearly in distress. They’re fighting hard against the restraints, but in a wild and restless way that Tim would never normally attempt to get out in. Dick gets and starts searching his coffee table for his phone. Right on cue, it rings.

He answers. “Hey, Dami. Are you watching right now?”

“I’m watching,” Damian answers. “Barbara’s trying to figure out where the signal’s coming from and Father’s getting suited up. I’m already suited up before you ask.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Thank you. Father’s panicking.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Dick grabs his keys and rushes out of his apartment. He heads to his safehouse to change into costume then gets on his bike and makes a beeline for Wayne Manor. Once he hits city limits, his comm crackles.

“Grayson will be here when he gets here,” Damian says. “Nothing we’re going to say is gonna make him get here faster.”

“Hey, I’m at city limits,” Dick says.

“Hey, Nightwing,” Barbara replies. “I’m sending the location to your bike now.”

“Thanks, Oracle. How’s Batman?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce says gruffly. “I’m heading to the warehouse now. How long will it take for you to get there?”

Dick checks the location. “Five minutes. It’s closer to the city limit than I thought it would be.”

“We’ll meet you there. I’m here with Orphan and Robin. Spoiler’s out of town.”

“Alright.”

He gets there at the same time they do and runs over.

“Hey, what did the scan of the building indicate?” Dick asks.

“Four heat signatures and their trackers are still transmitting from inside,” Bruce answers. “Alright, remember that our top priority is getting them out. If one of them gets away, we can deal with it at a later point.”

Cass and Damian both nod. Dick notices Mad Hatter and Scarecrow leaving the building. Cass notices them too and looks towards Bruce for instructions. Tim and Jason jump down onto the roof and ready their weapons. Bruce nods at Cass, and she goes after Scarecrow and Mad Hatter while Jason and Tim attack the rest of the Bats. Tim viciously attacks Damian with his bo staff and Damian barely dodges.

“What the hell?” Damian asks.

“The masks belong to Mad Hatter,” Dick says, trying to grab Tim so he can get the mask off. “He’s probably controlling both Hood and Red.”

Tim grabs Dick’s wrist and flips him onto his back. Tim jams a batarang into Dick’s arm, pinning him to the roof in the process. Dick hisses and tries to figure out how to take it out without hurting himself worse. After watching Jason beating Bruce and Tim beating Damian for several minutes while trying to think, he finally just pulls it out as fast as he can and runs at Tim. Bruce can hold his own a little longer. Tim drives a hard kick to Dick’s shoulder, which was slightly injured in a battle earlier that week.

“Shit,” Dick mutters, grabbing his shoulder. “That hurt, bud.”

Tim swings his staff at him again and Dick grabs the other end. He uses the momentum to throw Tim on his back. Damian grabs the mask and rips it off.

Damian checks his pulse. “He’s alive. You should probably go help Father with Hood before he makes him cry.”

Dick looks up and the two are sparring.

“I knew that Hood could reasonably fight Batman but seeing it is something else,” Dick mutters, “but I’m gonna go help Batman.”

Damian nods and starts checking for injuries on Tim. Dick flips over to Jason and kicks him hard in the side of the head. Bruce rips the mask off and stomps on it repeatedly. Dick checks Jason’s pulse while Bruce finishes destroying the mask.

“His pulse is there. Little weak, but steady.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “Let’s get them home.”

Bruce watches his kids as they rest and recuperate. Cass is patching up Damian’s injuries while Dick is patching himself up. Bruce notices that Tim starts shaking. Before he has a chance to get up and get him another blanket, Tim wakes up and sits up, looking concerned.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re home,” Bruce says.

Tim’s facial expression is flat and hard to read. Bruce notices that he seems concerned, but can’t tell about what exactly. He sees everybody and seems to ease a little, but still gets up.

“You should be resting,” Cass says.

“I’m gonna go rest in my room. I don’t… I don’t want to be here right now.”

“Hey, Tim,” Bruce says.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Dad,” Tim says, rushing through the words, then hurriedly heads up back to the manor.

Jason wakes up not long after. He looks around but his fear and anger are completely visible to Bruce. He gets up to walk over and Jason seems to calm down a little, the anger seeming to disappear.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asks.

Jason opens his mouth, then closes it again. He thinks for a moment, then shrugs.

“I don’t want to talk about it… right now. I’ll talk to you when I feel up to it,” Jason says. “Does that work, Dad?”

Bruce puts a hand on Jason’s shoulder and nods. “Of course it does.”

Jason nods. “I’m gonna head upstairs and try to sleep off this migraine that’s hitting me.”

“Make sure to take something.”

“I will.”

Jason heads upstairs as Damian walks over to Bruce.

“How are you feeling, Damian?” Bruce asks.

“I’m fine,” Damian answers. “Cassandra stitched up my injury. I’m going to speak to Timothy if you don’t need anything else.”

“Go ahead.” Damian heads upstairs.

At least someone can get Tim to talk. If Damian can’t, I think I’ll talk Dick into trying.

Dick walks up. “Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce says. “You?”

Dick sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t like fighting my siblings in such a setting. It hits the edge of that line I swore I’d never cross again. I’m physically fine, but they could have not been. Mad Hatter had them pushing us full strength. The strain that would have put on their brains…”

“I know. Don’t worry about that right now. Full brain scans show no signs of damage and we’re gonna keep up with scans until we’re completely in the clear. I won’t let anything happen to them without doing everything that I can to stop it,” Bruce promises.

Dick nods, then hugs Bruce. Bruce hugs him back and they stay like that until Dick’s phone starts ringing. Dick looks at it, then smiles.

“Hey, babe. What can I do for ya?” A pause. “I’m gonna take this outside, then probably head home.”

“Goodnight, Dick,” Bruce says.

“ ‘Night, Dad,” Dick replies, waving as he walks upstairs with his jacket.

Bruce heads upstairs after a little while and goes to his room. He leaves his door open a crack, a sign that the kids can come in if they need something, then gets in bed to get some much needed sleep.

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locomoqo · 2 days ago

Note

Could we get something related to gun trying to convince the reader who he loves to stay with him. Reader is conflicted with her feelings because she loves him but she’s aware of his job and how dangerous it is for the both of them. Angst & comfort please!

love me like a sailor

— gun park x reader

details: angst with comfort, established relationship

A/N: 1.2k words whewww, also i hope i did gun's personality justice here🥹 i rlly do believe he'd soften around someone he loves (i have a feeling this didnt come off as angsty as i wanted it to be bleh)

The room is dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the floor as the evening light fades behind heavy curtains. Gun stands in front of you, his usually impassive face softened by an emotion he rarely shows—vulnerability. The tension between you both is almost suffocating, a thick silence hanging between breaths. Your heart is heavy with the weight of a decision you don’t want to make.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. You clutch your arms, holding yourself together because you’re afraid that if you let go, you’ll fall apart. You look up at him, eyes filled with the conflict that’s been tearing at you for weeks. He’s been distant lately, lost in the chaos of his work, and you can’t pretend any longer that it doesn’t scare you.

Gun’s jaw tightens, his usually stoic expression cracking for a brief second. There's a flicker of something fragile in his eyes. He steps forward, a little too quickly, as if he's scared you might vanish. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” he says, his voice quiet and distant—just like it always is.

You meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, hating that he makes it sound so simple. “But for how long?” you ask, your voice breaking. “You’re always chasing danger, always fighting, always risking everything. I can’t... I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart every time you walk out that door.” The words spill out of you, each one a stab to your own heart. You hate how weak you sound, how vulnerable. But you can’t help it. You can’t stop loving him.

Gun’s brows furrow, his usual mask slipping as he takes a step closer. He towers over you, but there’s a gentleness in his eyes that contradicts his imposing presence. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you but stops, hovering with uncertainty as if he’s not sure he has the right to touch you anymore. “I don’t know how to be different,” he admits, his voice raw and low, twisting your heart. It's true, fighting has become part of who he is, it's all he's ever known. “This is who I am. But if it means losing you, I’ll—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head, feeling tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your edge. I don’t want to be your weakness.”

You see frustration flare in his eyes, the helplessness he fights so hard to conceal. His hands drop to his sides, curling into fists as he takes a shaky breath. “Do you think I want to be this way?” he asks, his voice suddenly fierce, desperation cutting through his words. “Do you think I don’t know what it does to you every time I leave? I’m trying, damn it, but I can’t just walk away from who I am. I’ve built my life around this, and I can’t change it, not overnight.”

He stretches his hand out, catching yours before you can pull away. There's an urgency in his grip—an unspoken plea hidden beneath his cold facade. The anger fades from his face, replaced by something hollow and broken. “You’re not my weakness,” he insists, his hold firm but gentle. “You never have been. You’re the only person who makes me want to be better. For you.” He swallows, eyes locked on yours. “I know it’s dangerous. I won’t lie to you about that. But I can protect you. I will protect you.”

Your heart aches at the sincerity in his voice, but you know it’s not enough. You pull your hand back, wiping away a tear before it can fall. “What if something happens to you?” you ask, your voice cracking. “What if I lose you?”

Gun’s expression tightens, and he reaches for you again, his hands settling on your shoulders with surprising gentleness. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he says firmly, his voice steady, as if daring fate to contradict him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He almost adds, “Not if it means leaving you,” but the words die in his throat.

“...I don’t want to leave,” you say, your voice hoarse, and it’s the truth. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want to be without the man who’s somehow become the most important part of your life, the one who knows you better than anyone else. “But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself either.” Your voice wavers, and you turn away as a sob escapes before you can choke it down.

Gun’s fingers gently tilt your chin back, his touch tender in a way that takes you by surprise. “Look at me,” he commands, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard. You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see the raw fear in his eyes—the fear of losing you. “I’m not asking you to ignore the danger. I’m asking you to stay with me.”

Your chest tightens, and you shake your head as tears finally spill over. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

Gun’s hands come up to cup your face, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His touch is achingly gentle, his thumb brushing away the tears that fall down your cheeks. “Then don’t watch,” he says, his voice teetering on desperation. “Let me be the one who takes the risks. I’ll handle it. I’ll handle everything if it means I can keep you by my side.” His voice is so soft, so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Isn’t that enough?” His eyes, usually so cold and distant, search yours, desperate for any sign that you might stay.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud echoing in your ears. The tears come faster now, and you let yourself lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your skin. There’s a sadness in his gaze that cuts you to the core, but there’s also hope—a fragile, flickering flame that refuses to die.

Your hands tremble as you cling to the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling into the material. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking, “but I’m scared, Gun. I’m so scared.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. His hold is firm and unwavering, like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. “Then be scared,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your temple, “but don’t go.”

It's the first time you’ve ever heard him beg, and it shatters something inside you. You stay there, wrapped in the security of his embrace. He’s far from perfect, and so are you, but in this moment, you find a sort of peace—a hope that, maybe, love is enough.

Gun pulls back slightly, his hands still cradling your face as he stares at you with an intensity that steals your breath. “Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You don’t know what the future holds, or if his promise is one he can keep, but in this moment, as his thumb gently brushes your cheek, you find yourself nodding, your resolve crumbling in the face of the man you love. Gun exhales shakily, a soft, relieved sound, and pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. For the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—everything will be okay.

#gun x reader #gun park x reader #gun park #lookism gun #park jonggun #lookism jonggun #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism comic #lookism x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending

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mostly-marvel-musings · 16 hours ago

Text

Old Tricks - P3

A/N: Now I can’t stop writing…

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ themes, fluff.

Find Part 1 & Part 2 here ;)

Your husband was missing. Again.

And right after promising that he wouldn’t be late for movie night.

Movie nights. Something you had designated every once in a while complete with buttery popcorn and candy and lots of fluffy pillows and blankets.

Sighing, you finished your glass of wine while his lay untouched and made your way downstairs where he was probably killing his back over some invention.

As suspected, there he was, deep in conversation with his virtual best friend, FRIDAY. You hadn’t decided whether to let this go or go up to him and remind him of what he’d missed. It didn’t hurt you because you had lived with the man long enough to understand he never did it on purpose.

Curiosity had gotten the better of you when you squinted to see what he was up to, watching your husband scroll through pictures that resembled…sex toys?

“Let’s keep the face plate easily retractable too, the wife has a thing for neck kisses and so do I.”

Tony murmured, mostly to himself but he made amendments to the project in front of him, fingers gliding over the keyboard to put his words into actuality. He had lost track of time but only because it was directed towards a little present he had been working on, for you.

Unknown to him, you were standing back within earshot, watching him work with a mixture of shock and amusement on your face.

“I mean, I know Y/N loves coming on my fingers just as much. Maybe we could tweak the suit? Add additional modes on the vibrators too.”

Sure, boss.

Blush crept up your cheeks as his words fell on your ears, it was as if he was discussing any other modification to be done to his Iron Man suits. You tiptoed inside, not wanting to announce your presence just yet as Tony Stark - the successor of Stark Industries, genius inventor, world-renown superhero and philanthropist continued his back and forth with the AI.

You watched as prototypes holograms of his suit showed up, the alterations he spoke about highlighted along with detailed description of its features. The man ran his fingers through his hair, leaving them a glorious mess before walked around the table as if to get a whole 360 view.

Clearing your throat finally, you stifled a laugh as your husband jumped with a hand over his heart.

“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Chuckling, you wrapped your arms around the man and reached up to give him a soft kiss. He sighed and hugged you, rubbing your back gently.

“You know among the things I presumed you do down here, I never imagined I’d catch you doing this. I also didn’t realise we had branched out to Adults Toys R Us.” You giggled when Tony playfully slapped your butt, joining in your laughter.

“It was supposed to be a surprise and a silly little gift. For the countless dates I’ve missed, I’m sorry.” He stared at his feet, scratching the back of his neck almost nervously.

“So you’re making me an apology sex toy? You continue to amaze me, Mr. Stark.” You murmured, making him look up at you again before pressing your lips to his lightly.

The man truly was unbelievable.

“What did I miss?” He asked earnestly, guilt evidently reflecting in his brown eyes.

“Our movie night. But it’s okay, I won’t hold it against you. Especially not if promise to reveal what all of this is about.”

Chuckling lowly, Tony planted his head on your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh and a purr the moment your fingers ran through his hair, comforting him.

“Am I going to get a demo or what?” You turned towards his work station while still keeping your arms around him.

“Nope. It’s still a work in progress.” Tony shrugged, swiftly shutting down his work.

“Oh come on, Tony! At least tell me something about it, what does it look like, how do I use it—”

“Oh no, you’re not going to use it. I am.”

You frowned, coaxing him to continue, now that he’d really got your interest piqued. It wasn’t surprising that he would design something like this without involving an element of ‘him’ in it.

“You’re giving me a present that’s meant to be used by you? Hmm, I’m not so sure if I want it now..” you teased, welcoming Tony as he slotted himself between your legs, caging you in by placing both his arms on either side.

“Oh you want it, alright. I’ve made sure it’s everything you’d wished for and more.”

“Hmm.. I would like some more details before I decide how I feel about this present.” Your arms naturally found their way behind his neck, excitement already building deep within as your little banter continued.

“Well?”

“Let’s just say all of your suit kink prayers have been answered, Mrs. Stark.”

No smut just yet 🤭

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #tony stark drabble #tony stark x you #tony stark smut #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings #marvel fanfiction #tony stark

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thefallennightmare · 1 day ago

Text

Oialë-Matt Dierkes x OFC!Faye[JP UNIVERSE]

Oialë: Eternal in Elvish.

Pairings: Matt Dierkes x OFC! Faye[JP UNIVERSE]

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff.

Summary: Matt meets up with Faye at a familiar place.

Authors Note: I wanted to visit these two love birds before the ending of JP. this takes place between chapter 30 and 31!

Tags: @blueskylinesx @artificialbreezy @loeytuan98 @thatchickwiththecamera @dsireland86 @iknownothingpeople @bngurngheart @heyyoplayer @myownthoughts12 @vinyardmaurado @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @marvelousmal @lma1986 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @itsafullmoon @shilohrosechicken @klutzy-kay24 @shadowseve @exitwoundsx @thisbicc @pathion @sammyjoeee @whenthesummerdies @flowery-mess @madomens @collidewiththesavannah @xserena-13 @cncohshit @rain-down-on-mee @sorrowsofsilence @xmads-omensx @dominuslunae @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

MATTHEW

“Hey you.”

Faye’s familiar ethereal voice echoed through the phone as I held it between my shoulder and ear, pulling the front door closed behind me.

“Hey yourself. I’m just calling to check in on you to see how it’s going?”

She sighed, the exhaustion heavy in her breath. “Long but we’re getting a lot of good shots. I should be home in an hour. Should I bring something for dinner?”

Carefully opening the door to my truck, I set everything on the backseat and nodded even though Faye couldn’t see.

“Sure. I’m good with whatever you want. I’m taking the dogs to the park for a little bit but I’ll be back before you get home.”

There was some rustling on her end before she spoke. “Alright, my love. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. I’ve missed you all day.”

My heart lurched in my throat, feeling the same way. “I missed you too, fairy. It’s been a long week of work for both of us but we have the next four days to ourselves.”

“Can’t wait,” I could hear the smile in her voice.

After saying goodbye, I pocketed my phone and hopped behind the wheel, my truck roaring to life. Peering back towards the house, I smirked seeing Boo and Zeus in the window wondering where I was headed without them but then my heart hurt at how sad they looked.

“I can't do this without them,” I muttered under my breath before running back to the house and grabbing my boys.

Once they were settled in the truck, I looked at Faye’s location on Life360 and pulled out of the driveway. She’d been down by the pier since 10 a.m this morning photographing a local band. Since Hollow Souls did have much going on lately, Faye had been taking a few side jobs here and there. She’d worked every day this last week and I’d be the first to admit that I missed her like a love sick puppy so I decided to pack us a picnic, grabbed a blanket, and her favorite sweater of mine because I knew she forgot to grab one and she would be cold tonight.

“She always gets cold,” I chuckled to Boo who was perched on my lap while Zeus was in the backseat.

I pulled my truck up to the local floral shop and left them there after a quick pep talk. The bell above the door jingled when I walked in, announcing my arrival. Joan, the older lady who ran the shop, gave me a smile.

“You're two days early for your weekly bouquet!”

I gave her a sheepish smile while stuffing my hands into the pockets of my joggers. “I know but special circumstances. Any chance you’ve got some blue tulips lying around?”

Her frail hands tapped the counter before she disappeared into the back area of the shop. A variety of scents filled my senses, causing me to rub my nose. I’d been coming here every day ever since Faye and I started dating to buy her a bouquet of blue tulips. It was so often that Joan began having a bouquet ready for me every Saturday night so Faye could wake up to them Sunday morning.

“Lucky for you,” Joan appeared behind the counter again with an even larger bouquet of blue tulips than usual. “I had a feeling you’d be coming by tonight. Can’t explain it but I had this ready for you.”

I took it from her with a bright smile. “Thank you, Joan. Go ahead and charge the card on file double. For the last minute bouquet and for Saturdays when I pick it up this week.”

“Oh she must be special. Two bouquets in one week?” She teased me.

I gripped the small box in my pocket. “Really special.”

Once I was back in my truck, the blue tulips resting safely in the front seat, I began driving towards the pier; nerves for tonight making my stomach flutter. This was supposed to happen a month ago but Faye had gotten sick the original night I had planned and with what happened with Noah and Angel, I knew I had to push my plans off for a while until the dust settled.

More time for me to plan this.

The pier appeared in a matter of minutes and I was able to find where Faye parked her car so I eased my truck next to hers. I knew she was working down a ways on the beach so I grabbed all of my things and walked down the steps towards the sandy area of the beach, Boo and Zeus following close behind. The sun was setting, bathing the ocean in glitters of orange and yellow hues. Gone were the groups of people that filled the beach for a day in the water and now only a few people lingered around, not enough to be a bother.

By the time I finished setting up the blankets, pillows, and small picnic, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The dogs were clipped with their leashes but I could always trust that they wouldn’t run far off.

Faye 🧚‍♂️: All packed up! I was thinking of grabbing some Chinese take out. Does that sound good?

All I sent her was my location pin drop which was a less than three minute walk where she currently was.

Faye 🧚‍♂️: What’s this?

Faye 🧚‍♂️: Wait, are you here?

Me: See you soon, fairy.

Setting my phone on silent, I tossed it onto one of the pillows and stood on the blanket in my socks as I patiently waited for her. One hand was in my pocket while the other held onto the bouquet of tulips.

I tried to tell myself that there wasn’t a need to be nervous since she already technically gave me her answer over a month ago.

Suddenly a spec of teal appeared a few feet down the beach causing my lips to break out in a wide smile. Tonight, I opted out on wearing a hat and had my hair pulled back into a low bun, wanting to look somewhat presentable for her.

I still wore a hoodie and sweats. You couldn’t beat those off of me with a stick.

My breath caught in my throat when I took in the sight of Faye dressed in an orange sundress, the ends blowing in the wind. Her perfect breasts were accentuated by the halter style top, tied together in a bow behind her neck. When she left this morning, her hair was tied back in a braid, thanks to me. But now it brushed over her shoulders in waves. In one hand was her white sandals and the other held her camera bag.

But my eyes were locked on the Evenstar necklace around her throat. Faye wore it all day, every day, ever since I proposed to her with it a month ago.

“What are all of my boys doing here?” She asked with a soft smile, Boo and Zeus wagging their tails at her feet.

I shrugged. “We wanted to surprise you with a picnic on the beach.”

After dropping her things on the blanket, she stepped into my embrace and pressed a kiss to my lips. When she went to pull away, I held onto the back of her head for a moment longer, wanting to savor the way she tasted. The kiss may have been short but it was enough for me to convey how much I loved her without actually saying it.

“You’re two days early for your weekly tulip bouquets,” Faye giggled after taking the flowers from me to breathe them in.

My spine stiffened as she gazed down at the flowers but relaxed a moment when she gently brought them to her chest. With our fingers linked, Faye pulled me down to the blanket as I spread out the sandwiches and fruit I packed for us while she talked about the shoot. I always watched her with a fond smile whenever she talked about her interests. The other night while she was reading a book, she ran into my office with said book in her hand needing to talk to me about a major plot twist.

The entire conversation lasted thirty minutes as she rambled on while pacing my office, me watching her with love and light in my eyes.

“Shit, I’m so fucking cold,” Faye shivered while wrapping her arms around herself.

“I figured you would be,” I chuckled while handing her the extra hoodie I brought.

She always drowned in my clothes yet I loved the way she looked.

Once we finished the food and I cleaned up the mess, I brought Faye closer to my chest so I could breathe in her familiar scent of gardenias.

“Anything special you want to do this weekend?” I questioned.

She squeezed my side. “Just you.”

“I can make that happen,” I hummed, brushing a kiss over her forehead.

As we sat there in silence watching the waves, Zeus next to me and Boo in her lap, something was eerily familiar about this certain pier. Almost as if I’d been here before but couldn’t pinpoint on when. Slowly but surely, more people started to arrive on the beach with chairs or blankets, making me raise a brow in confusion.

“I think this is the largest bouquet of blue tulips yet.”

Faye’s voice brought me back to her and I sat with my hands perched in my lap watching her as she filtered through each stem, getting closer and closer to the rose colored box that was hidden between them.

“I don’t think we have a big enough vase-,” her voice faltered when her finger finally brushed up against the velvet box.

My entire body shook with nerves as I silently watched her pull out the box before opening it, her gasp so loud over the pick up of voices around us. Inside the box was an emerald green diamond surrounded by a silver band that looked like branches.

“Uh,” I cleared my throat. “I know we’re already engaged but I want to give you an actual ring. You deserve to have that.”

Faye made no move, eyes locked in on the ring, so tentatively I removed it from the box so I could show her the engraving on the inside of the band.

“Oialë. It means eternal in elvish,” I explained.

She blinked up at me, eyes wet with tears, and cupped my cheek. “Matthew, you didn’t-.”

I immediately nodded. “Yes, I did. You deserve an actual engagement ring, Faye.”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed while I slid the ring on her finger.

“Did you want me to propose again?” I asked, suddenly nervous that I didn’t think about that.

“No,” she wiped away at a loose tear, Boo still snuggled in her lap. “I absolutely love how you proposed with the Everstar necklace and nothing could change that. But I also love the ring.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Y/N actually helped me out with it. I was so fucking lost on what looked good and what size you were so I had her meet me before she shot the Just Pretend music video.”

Faye couldn’t take her eyes off her ring, the faintest of smiles on her lips. If there weren’t a group of people around us, I’d lay her back on the blanket to connect our souls together.

Too bad that’s already been done before.

“I love it. And you. So fucking much,” Faye kissed my cheek. “I’ll show you my thanks later tonight.”

Crimson covered my cheeks as I glanced around us, suddenly very angry at myself for deciding to do this in public.

“Are you alright if I tell the group chat?” I asked while holding up my phone.

Faye, who had her phone in her hand, gave me a sheepish look which caused me to snort.

“You already told them.”

“I couldn’t help it! I had to show them,” she defended while holding out her hand to snap another picture of the ring.

Bringing her close to me again, the sky above us broke out in loud and bright sparks; fireworks lighting up the sky. Suddenly I remembered why this setting was so familiar. It was because I’d been here with everyone two years ago to the day when Noah and Angel were sitting not too far from here.

“Small world,” I smiled before making sure Zeus and Boo were alright with the fireworks.

Thankfully they seemed alright but decided that after another minute we would pack up and leave so they weren’t too stressed out. I just couldn’t stop admiring the way Faye looked while watching the fireworks.

Breaking away from the trance, I checked my phone to scroll through all the new messages in the group chat.

Noah Seb: So that’s why Matt and Y/N were so sneaky last month. We’re so happy for you guys. Y/N is sitting next to me crying because she can’t get over how gorgeous the ring is.

Davis Rider: Maybe she should have bought one for herself.

Noah responded with the annoyed emoji right before another one from him came through.

Noah Seb: Don’t forget your flight leaves Tuesday at noon, Matt. Think you guys will make it or will be too busy celebrating?

That caused me to scoff as I replied.

Me: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mochi.

He replied with the middle finger emoji.

Zeus started getting restless next to me so I motioned to Faye that we should probably head back home.

After we were all packed up, I linked fingers with her and brought the ring to my lips, peppering it in kisses.

“I love you, Faye,” I proclaimed.

She cupped my cheek. “I love you too, Matthew Dierkes. For Oialë.”

#tina talks #bad omens #bad omens cult #matt dierkes #matt dierkes blurb #matt dierkes fluff #matt dierkes x ofc #matt dierkes x ofc!faye

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 days ago

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Feeling very drama and angsty today. Imagine after rehab in 2001, James starts dating reader and it’s all going well, she is really helping him, etc. but when she finds out that he’s only separated from his wife, there’s no official divorce. The worst part is that she finds it from gossip magazine, and she gets the “homewrecker” label? She feels disgusted with herself as she honestly thinks now that James was only using her for his recovery and is going back to his family after he completely recovered ?

I still hope for some happy ending please?

I think you know by now how much I can love angsty stories. I hope you like this💕

Fix us

After James finished rehab, things between us moved fast. He’d been vulnerable, raw, and in need of support. I was there with him, by his side through every late-night call, every rough moment. He’d say that I made him feel whole, that I was the calm he needed in the storm. And I believed him—every word, every promise. I let myself fall.

It felt like everything was finally going right. That was, until today.

I had stopped at the grocery store after work, glancing through the usual row of magazines when something caught my eye. There, on the glossy cover, was a photo of James with his arm around his wife—his wife—alongside the headline: James Hetfield's Secret Affair? Spotted with a New Flame, But No Plans for Divorce.

The world seemed to spin around me as I flipped through the pages, my heart sinking with each line. Separated, not divorced. Speculation. Gossip. And worst of all, that word burned into my mind: homewrecker. The one thing I’d tried so hard not to be.

I felt humiliated, my cheeks hot with a mix of anger and shame. How could he do this? How could he keep something so important from me? Did I mean so little to him that he didn’t even tell me the truth? Had I been nothing more than a distraction—someone to lean on until he could go back to his family?

I barely remember the drive home. By the time I was back in my apartment, I could hardly hold back the tears, still clutching that damn magazine in my hand. I wanted to scream, to throw something. But instead, I just stood there, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me.

The sound of the door startled me. James had let himself in, his face softening when he saw me standing there, holding the magazine.

“Y/n,” he started, his voice heavy with guilt, “I can explain.”

“Explain what, James?” I spat, holding up the magazine. “Explain how you lied to me? Or how the whole world knows your truth before I do?”

He stepped forward, his face pained. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t lie to you, I swear. I just… wasn’t ready to face it myself. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

The anger in me flared, but it was the pain that took over. “I thought I was helping you get better, helping you move forward. But all this time, you’re still tied to her. I mean, what am I? Just some temporary fix until you’re ready to go back?”

“No,” he said, reaching for me, but I took a step back. “You’re not a rebound, Y/n. You’re so much more than that.”

“If that were true, then you would have been honest with me,” I shot back, feeling a lump in my throat. “You’ve put me in the worst position possible. I look like a homewrecker, James. I feel used.”

I could see him struggling, his hand running through his hair. “You’re right,” he finally said, his voice breaking. “I never should have let it get this far without telling you. I was selfish, thinking I could handle it all, but... I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside me, and for a moment, I wanted to believe him. But it was hard to shake the betrayal, the embarrassment that had settled in me. “James, I’ve given you everything. My time, my trust… my heart. And now I don’t even know if I can look at myself without feeling disgusted.”

He stepped forward, his eyes pleading. “Please, Y/n. Just give me some time. I’ll fix this—I’ll make it right. I know what I want, and it’s you. I’ll handle everything with her. I’ll show you that this is real.”

I didn’t say anything, just looked away, feeling tears spill over despite myself. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, James. I don’t know if I can trust me anymore.”

“I know,” he whispered, taking my hands in his. “I’ll prove it to you, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

---

Then one night, months after our fight, I heard a knock at my door. When I opened it, there he was, looking exhausted but hopeful, a familiar warmth in his eyes.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice soft and steady. He held up a single sheet of paper—signed divorce papers. “Completely here, Y/n. And if you don’t want me anymore, I get it. But I need you to know… I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

My chest ached at the sight of him, all the hurt and love I’d kept bottled up unraveling at once. I took a shaky breath, my voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can go back to the way things were.”

He nodded, taking a small step closer. “I don’t want to go back, either. I just want you, now, however you’ll have me.”

I looked at him, feeling the last of my anger melt away, replaced by something deeper. I reached for his hands, and he closed his fingers around mine, steady and real. His thumbs gently brushed over my knuckles, and I felt him pause, lifting my hands to his lips.

Then, without a word, he pressed a soft kiss to each one, his gaze never leaving mine, his lips warm and tender against my skin. The quiet intensity of it made my heart ache, each kiss melting away the pain I’d held onto for so long.

“I want to try,” I whispered. “But don’t lie to me again, James. Not ever.”

“I swear,” he murmured, his voice filled with relief, his hands still wrapped around mine. He pulled me into a gentle embrace, holding me close, his arms secure and unyielding, as if he never wanted to let go. I let myself sink into him, feeling his heartbeat, steady and strong, and for the first time in a long time, I felt whole again.

This was our new beginning, and this time, I knew we’d face it together.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #metallica angst #metallica fluff #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield one shot #james hetfield angst #nausicaamusiclover20

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whtepony · 1 day ago

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hi!! i love ur work !

so random request but i was wondering if you could write how denki or sero would comfort you if you were clearly going through something, like distancing , sleeping all day, being overly quiet, the whole thing. ive been going through alot lately and it would be greatly appreciated if you could! completely understand if not!!

✮ that funny feeling

ft. denki kaminari x gn reader

warnings: depressive themes

notes: anon i’m so sorry it’s taken me forever to get to this 😭 i hope you’re doing better!!! also yeah bo burnham title bc i cannot EVER title things ugh (divider from @cafekitsune)

denki kaminari is observant when he wants to be, meaning that he notices almost immediately when you start to distance yourself. at first, he kind of assumes he’s done something to hurt your feelings. it starts with cancelling your plans once, then twice - taking hours to respond to his texts, then avoiding them all together. choosing to eat dinner alone in your dorm instead of with him. when you skip class for the third day in a row without so much as a “hey, won’t be there today” text, he thinks he’s really fucked up. how could he possibly fumble you this hard and have no clue how it happened?!

when he realizes no one has heard much of anything from you lately, denki resolves to find out what’s going on asap. he’s knocking on your door before he even considers that you might prefer a check-in over text, but you crack open the door anyway. if he’s shocked at your appearance he doesn’t show it - from the looks of you, that’s probably the last thing you need right now. he smiles big and his shoulders relax a bit seeing that you’re at least alive although in a brief panic, he definitely did worry about that for a second or two. “you mind if i come in?”

you sigh deeply and open the door wider for him, your face flushing in embarrassment as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. there are clothes strewn about the floor, papers and trash littering several surfaces, and probably a dozen empty water bottles on your nightstand. “i uh, just wanted to come check on you - i’ve been worried, y’know?” and you do know, and you feel awful about it, on top of everything else. you fiddle with the hem of your hoodie, sitting on the wrinkled edge of your bed. you nod, clearing your throat a bit before speaking. “i dunno,” you shrug, the bed dipping under his weight next to you, “guess i haven’t felt that good lately.”

denki tilts his head to the side, offering you a small smile. “really? you could’ve fooled me, you look incredible!” his voice is tender and you know there isn’t any underlying insult - he genuinely just wants to make you laugh. you do, although it’s more like a sharp exhale, but his smile grows wider at the small success. he gently pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you securely. you sigh and busy your head into his chest, instantly feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “you want me to order us something to eat while you go have a shower?”

“…yeah, that sounds nice.”

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rylem33 · 2 days ago

Text

My Dinner with Andrea

Outside the entrance of the upscale restaurant, Natalie glanced nervously at Ethan. “Are you sure your mom really wants me here tonight? I mean, she barely tolerates me on a good day.”

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know she can be intense, but trust me, Nat. She means well. She’s just… picky.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I think she’ll come around eventually.”

Natalie forced a smile. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. We’ll make the best of it.”

They took a deep breath together before entering the restaurant.

Inside, Andrea was already seated at an elegantly set table. She rose, greeting them with a firm hug for Ethan and a polite nod for Natalie.

“Ethan,” she said, a faint hint of warmth in her tone, “could you be a dear and check on our reservation for next week? I want to make sure everything’s set.”

“Of course, Mom.” Ethan smiled, then turned to Natalie, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before walking away.

Once they were alone, Andrea turned her gaze to Natalie, her eyes narrowing appraisingly. “Natalie,” she said softly, her fingers reaching into her bag to produce a small box. “I thought this might suit you.”

She opened the box to reveal an ornate, antique necklace, its gold chain gleaming in the light. “It’s a family piece,” she continued with a cool smile. “I think it might bring out your best qualities.”

Surprised by the gift, Natalie hesitated before taking it. “Thank you,” she murmured, clasping it around her neck. As soon as the necklace settled against her skin, she felt a warm sensation spread over her.

Ethan returned moments later and they settled in at the table. Andrea folded her hands primly, her gaze drifting between the two of them.

“So, Natalie,” she began, her voice measured. “How are things at work? Ethan mentioned you’re in marketing. What is it you do again?”

Natalie straightened, trying not to let her nerves show. “Yes, I work on social media campaigns. Mostly planning and tracking how they perform.”

Andrea gave a polite nod, her eyes flicking briefly to Ethan as if to gauge his reaction. “Interesting. And how long have you been with your company?”

“About three years now,” Natalie said, feeling herself relax slightly. “I’ve learned a lot since I started.”

Andrea tilted her head. “Three years. That’s a good amount of time. And I imagine there are opportunities for growth?” Her voice held a faint edge, and Natalie couldn’t tell if she was genuinely interested or subtly prodding.

“Oh, definitely,” Natalie replied, smiling with more confidence. “There’s a lot of room to move up, and I’m excited about it. I’ve been setting goals, and I’m determined to make a real impact.”

“Haven’t you?” Andrea replied, her eyebrow lifting slightly as she studied Natalie’s expression. “Planning ahead is one thing, but sometimes it’s more practical to focus on family, don’t you think?”

Natalie hesitated, thrown off by the unexpected remark, and glanced at Ethan for reassurance, though he was adjusting his napkin, only half-listening. “Of course,” she replied quickly, “but it’s always been important to me to have something of my own. I really enjoy working toward something meaningful.”

Andrea’s polite smile remained cool, her gaze unwavering. “I see. That’s… admirable,” she said, taking a sip of her water. She turned to Ethan, smiling faintly. “Ethan, you’ve always known what’s important. Being a provider. Right?”

Ethan gave Natalie a soft smile. “Mom.” He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Natalie’s. “I think everyone has their own path. I respect Natalie and her goals.”

“Indeed.” Andrea’s gaze drifted back to Natalie, her fingers tapping lightly against her glass. “And what about outside of work, Natalie? Do you stay active?”

Natalie blinked, sensing the appraisal in the question. “Oh, well… I try to go on walks,” she said, realizing too late how it might sound next to the poised, immaculate woman across from her. But suddenly, an image flooded her mind. She was jogging through a scenic park, her toned muscles working as she powered up a hill. She wore sleek, high-end workout gear that fit her perfectly, and heads turned as she passed.

She blinked, momentarily disoriented, then recovered and smiled. “Actually, I’ve been really focused on fitness lately,” she replied smoothly. “It’s really important to stay in shape. I make it a priority every day.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows, a puzzled look crossing his face. “Wait… when did this happen? I mean, I didn’t even know you liked running, let alone did it regularly.”

“Oh, I make the time,” Natalie replied, her voice more confident than she’d expected. “It’s important to look and feel your best.” Her arms appeared more toned, her frame subtly more athletic. She felt a thrill as she noticed Andrea giving her an approving nod.

Ethan looked between Andrea and Natalie, frowning slightly. “But I’ve… never seen you go running, Nat. Not even once.”

Natalie shrugged, her confidence growing. “Well, maybe you just didn’t notice.” She shot him a smirk.

“Well,” Andrea said, “it shows that you have discipline, Natalie.” Andrea continued to query, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And how do you spend your free time, Natalie? What do you do for fun?”

“Oh, um…” Natalie hesitated, caught off-guard by the direct question. “I mean, I usually enjoy reading, watching movies, spending time with friends.” She shifted uncomfortably, realizing as she spoke how plain it all sounded.

Andrea’s gaze sharpened, her tone neutral. “Friends,” she echoed. “Yes, a social life is important. But I assume you get out more than that?”

Natalie’s mind blurred, and suddenly, a memory burst to life in her mind. She was at a lively club, dressed in a sleek black dress, laughing loudly as she moved through the crowd. The music thrummed around her, and she could feel eyes following her as she danced confidently, drink in hand, commanding attention with her energy and laughter. She wasn’t just out for the night—she was there to be seen, to revel in the spotlight.

The memory faded, leaving Natalie with a thrill of exhilaration. “Actually,” she replied, her voice a little louder and more energetic, “I’ve been going out a lot lately! Drinks, clubs… just enjoying life, you know?” She leaned back, a wide smile on her face.

Ethan blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait… clubbing? Since when?”

Natalie shrugged, her smirk widening as she brushed off his question. “Oh, Ethan, I’ve just been having fun,” she said, her tone almost playful. She noticed the pleased glint in Andrea’s eyes and leaned back, basking in the attention, feeling a strange satisfaction in her new, bolder self.

“Well,” Andrea said, “it’s certainly important to enjoy life and have an active social life.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful before continuing, “And tell me, Natalie, where do you see yourself in five years?”

Natalie was about to talk about her career goals, her plans to move up in her field and make a name for herself. Her work had always meant a lot to her. But before she could speak, another vivid image took hold. She was in a luxurious home, her time devoted to attending elegant events and looking picture-perfect on Ethan’s arm. Career ambitions were left far behind, replaced by a refined, effortless lifestyle focused entirely on supporting Ethan.

The image faded, and she felt a strange contentment at the thought of not working, of just being there for Ethan. “Actually,” she said, her voice softer, almost dreamlike, “I’ve realized that career ambition isn’t everything. I think I’d rather just… focus on supporting Ethan.” The words came out easily, and for the first time, the idea of letting go of her own ambitions felt right, even exciting.

Ethan leaned forward, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion. “Wait… Nat, since when? You’ve always cared about work, about building something on your own.”

“Oh, Ethan,” she replied with a light laugh, waving him off with a simple, dismissive smile. “I just think it’s time to focus on being a good girlfriend…. and, you know, maybe having a family someday.” Her voice had taken on a softer, simpler tone. A serene smile settled over her face.

Andrea’s smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Exactly, Natalie. Those are the qualities that last. Isn’t that what you want in a partner, Ethan?”

Ethan glanced between the two of them, looking more unsettled than ever. “I mean… sure, but…” His voice was tense, uncertain as he looked at Natalie.

Natalie giggled lightly, her words flowing out easily and without a hint of her previous ambition. “Oh, Ethan, there’s nothing wrong with simplifying things! It’s all about what really matters, right?” She flashed a soft smile as Andrea watched her approvingly.

Andrea’s gaze settled on the necklace at Natalie’s throat, her eyes gleaming. “Natalie, tell me, have you ever thought about refining your style? Presentation can mean everything.”

As she listened, Natalie felt another warm pulse from the necklace, and an image overtook her mind. She was browsing a designer boutique, her fingers gliding over luxurious fabrics. She could see herself in the mirror wearing the latest trends, entirely focused on looking good….no, looking hot.

“Yes,” Natalie murmured, her tone soft but cheerful. “I think quality is, like, super important. You know? It’s all about looking… amazing.” She glanced down, a delighted smile spreading over her face as she noticed how her dress now hugged her frame perfectly, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that made her waist look tiny and her figure even more striking. She gave a little giggle, feeling pleased as she noticed Ethan’s gaze lingering on her and catching Andrea’s approving nod.

Ethan’s confusion deepened as he took in her sudden transformation. “Nat… are you okay?”

“Oh, Ethan,” she replied lightly, giving a little laugh as she dismissed his question with a casual wave. “I’m just, like… great!” She glanced over at Andrea, who gave her an approving nod. Feeling a pleasant warmth at the silent approval, she flashed a wide smile, entirely pleased with herself.

Ethan’s growing confusion shifted to suspicion as he looked between Andrea and Natalie, his gaze settling on the necklace, its delicate chain glinting in the low light. “Natalie… where did you get that necklace?”

“Oh, this?” Natalie touched it with an innocent giggle, her fingers lightly tracing the necklace as a warm hum pulsed against her skin. “Your mom gave it to me!” she replied with a wide, cheerful smile. “She said it would bring out my best qualities.”

Ethan’s face paled, his mouth opening slightly as he turned to Andrea, a flash of anger in his eyes. “Mom… you… you gave her that?” His voice was thick with alarm.

Andrea’s smile remained perfectly calm, her satisfaction barely concealed. “Yes, Ethan. I thought it was time. Natalie deserves to reach her full potential, don’t you think?”

Ethan turned back to Natalie, frustration and alarm flashing in his eyes.

“Don’t try to fight it, Ethan,” Andrea continued. “The changes can’t be reversed.”

Natalie only tilted her head with a blank, cheerful smile, her voice light and sing-song. “Oh, Ethan. Are you upset? I like being your girlfriend. I can, like, be supportive and stuff.” She giggled, the sound bright and carefree. Her ambitions, once so important to her, seemed like distant memories now, replaced by a calm that felt perfectly right.

Ethan clenched his jaw, his voice thick with frustration as he struggled to hold on to his anger. “Mom, you’ve made her into someone else… someone you want her to be.”

Andrea placed a gentle hand on his arm, her voice smooth and assured. “Ethan, this is exactly what you need, a woman who values simplicity and devotion. Someone who will support you without all those complicated ambitions.”

Ethan looked back at Natalie, her features soft and sweet, her giggles almost childlike as she smiled up at him. She seemed so different, yet wholly pleased with who she’d become. Ethan’s anger slowly dissolved into reluctant acceptance.

With a sigh, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right, Mom. You always are.”

#f2f transformation #personality change #bimboization

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