#that's all i can think of off the top of my head but there's probably loads more....just don't trust male fans period 😁

[tofics]

🥲 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. 

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?” 

“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.”

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. 

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.

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.” 

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. 

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.” 

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 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. 

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– ”

“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.” 

 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. 

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.” 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.

[cailinsblog]

A Sweet Christmas with Lando and Y/N

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/N, spend a cozy Christmas evening baking cookies together. Despite Lando’s playful messes, they laugh and enjoy decorating the cookies. The night is filled with warmth, love, and holiday magic as they relax by the tree and savor their homemade treats.

The snow had started to fall softly outside the windows of Lando Norris' cozy apartment. It was the kind of quiet, peaceful evening that you could only find around Christmas, when everything felt a little bit more magical. Inside, the soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the living room, and the warm scent of cinnamon and gingerbread had begun to fill the air.

Y/N was standing in front of the kitchen counter, her apron tied around her waist, carefully measuring out flour. She was excited for their Christmas tradition, even if it was something simple—making cookies together. It had become something of a special ritual for the two of them. Lando might spend most of his time on the racetrack, but when it came to Christmas, he was more than happy to trade in fast cars for flour-covered countertops.

Lando, for his part, was currently attempting to "help" by sifting the powdered sugar... a task he had apparently decided was too easy and, therefore, not nearly as fun. Instead, he was playing around, tossing little clouds of sugar up in the air and watching them drift down like snowflakes. Y/N chuckled as one of them landed in his hair.

“Lando!” she laughed, reaching for a paper towel to wipe some sugar off his shoulder. “You’re making a mess!”

He grinned sheepishly, but there was something incredibly endearing about his childlike energy. “Hey, I’m helping! You just don’t understand the art of creating the perfect snowfall effect with powdered sugar,” he teased, flicking a bit more in her direction.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, holding up the flour and gesturing with a teasing smile. “I think you’re just making a bigger mess than we need to clean up later.”

“You can’t rush art,” Lando replied with mock seriousness, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across her face. “Well, while you’re busy perfecting your snowstorm, I’m actually going to start making the dough,” she said, grabbing a bowl and starting to mix the ingredients.

Lando watched her for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned against the counter. “I can do that too, you know. I’m good with my hands. Maybe I’ll make the best dough ever.”

“Oh really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You can barely bake a cookie without burning it, let alone make the dough.”

“That was one time!” he protested, holding up a finger. “It was a *very* complicated recipe.”

She smirked, already knowing he was about to get defensive. “Sure, Lando. You’re probably right,” she said dryly, handing him the rolling pin. “But for now, you can roll out the dough, okay?”

Lando nodded like he’d just been given the most important job in the world. He immediately took the rolling pin and started to roll out the dough with exaggerated concentration, as though the fate of the Christmas cookies rested entirely on his shoulders. Y/N could hardly contain her laughter at his antics.

After a few minutes of him dramatically rolling out the dough, he grinned triumphantly. “All done! Now, what’s next?”

Y/N moved in to take a look, inspecting his work. The dough was unevenly rolled, with some parts much thinner than others, but she didn’t mind. It would all taste the same in the end. “Okay, now we can cut out the shapes,” she said, pulling out a set of cookie cutters in the shape of stars, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. “Are you ready to make some Christmas magic?”

“Born ready,” Lando said, positioning himself beside her. “But I’m going to warn you, I’m excellent at decorating cookies. Like, top-tier.”

Y/N laughed. “We’ll see about that. I have a feeling you’re going to end up eating most of the decorations instead of using them.”

They spent the next hour rolling, cutting, and laughing. Y/N couldn’t help but love the way Lando’s enthusiasm was so contagious. Even when he accidentally made a dough explosion or ended up with flour on his face, he just laughed it off, turning every mishap into an inside joke.

When the cookies were finally ready to go into the oven, Y/N turned to him, her smile softening. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun baking before.”

Lando shrugged, his expression warm. “It’s the company, not the cookies, that makes it fun.”

As the cookies baked, they moved into the living room, where the Christmas tree twinkled with lights and the soft hum of holiday music filled the background. Y/N curled up on the couch, and Lando joined her, draping an arm over her shoulders.

They sat in content silence, only the sound of the occasional pop from the fireplace breaking the quiet. The world outside seemed far away as they simply enjoyed the moment—together, cozy, and happy. It wasn’t the holiday shopping or the big celebrations that made Christmas special; it was these simple, quiet moments.

Eventually, the timer went off, and they both jumped up, rushing back to the kitchen to check on their cookies. The smell was heavenly—spiced with cinnamon, ginger, and sugar. Lando opened the oven door and pulled out the tray with exaggerated care, pretending like he was handling fragile treasure.

After a few minutes of cooling, it was time for the best part: decorating. Y/N set out icing, sprinkles, and little edible pearls, and Lando was immediately at it, piping colorful swirls of icing onto the cookies with absolute concentration.

“You really are good at this,” Y/N said, genuinely impressed as he carefully outlined the snowflakes.

“I told you,” Lando grinned. “I’m a natural.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as she began decorating her own cookies. They worked together in harmony, sometimes making faces at each other over their icing, sometimes getting into little “cookie decorating contests” to see who could make the prettiest designs. Of course, most of the cookies ended up a little lopsided, but that was part of the charm. Every one was unique and full of love.

When they were finally finished, they stepped back to admire their work. The plate of cookies before them was a sweet, colorful mess of imperfect but delicious-looking treats.

“Well, we definitely won’t be winning any decorating contests,” Y/N said with a laugh, “but I think we’ve created some Christmas magic.”

“Agreed,” Lando said, looking at the plate with a satisfied grin. “They look like something straight out of a holiday movie… except maybe with a little more personality.”

They shared a laugh before grabbing the first cookie from the plate and taking a bite. The warm, sugary taste was perfect, and they both sighed contentedly.

“I think we’ve made some of the best Christmas cookies ever,” Y/N said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Lando smiled, his expression tender. “Yeah, I think we have too.”

They shared a quiet moment, just enjoying each other's company and the happiness of the season. In that moment, surrounded by laughter, cookies, and the warmth of Christmas, Lando and Y/N knew that this was what the holidays were really all about.

And as they settled in with a plate of cookies and a cup of hot cocoa, the world outside continued to drift by, but inside, everything was perfect.

[songbirdseung]

pink roses / park jongseong

you were used to the toxic side of love but now that you were dating park jongseong, you realize love isn't that bad at all genre fluff, budding relationship, slice of life

the sky was still dark, the rain was pouring down hard, and the voice in your mind was telling you just stay home. but then again, the alarm clock on your bedside table reminds you that work cannot wait and it's time to get up and get ready. whoever invented starting work at 7am? curses.

you begrudgingly toss the blankets off your body and plant your feet on the cold floor. staring into the dark of your room, zooning out until your far in deep to the point where you think the coat on your door is a scary figure. groaning as you get up from your comfy bed to get the day started, not knowing a little surprise was waiting for you in a few minutes.

after a while, as you were tidying up your uniform, the scent of waffles and bacon hit your senses. if it wasn't for the smell, you'd probably be freaking out and thinking you're losing your mind and hallucinating. but you damn well knew who was causing this, smiling as you made your way into the kitchen and proving your hypothesis. it was him.

park jongseong, your lover.

"hey beautiful, you've been up for a while?" plating the food so prettily and turning off the stove, even cleaning after himself. "yeah...you've been here for a while?" "mhm, i came in with the spare key you gave me...hope that's alright" he comes closer to you, giving you a hug and a kiss on your cheek. nodding at him, reassuring him that it was fine. "you practically live here anyway" he laughs and smiles, and God damn. that smile and laugh, it makes your heartbeat faster and your knees weak. "i guess i am here often, huh?"

"why don't you just stay home with me, pretty doll?" bringing you to the table, pulling the chair and pushing it in back in after you take your seat. "besides, the weather is pretty bad" taking his own spot next to you and tucking a strand of hair away from your face to get a better look at you. "i wish..." the thing with jay is; if he wants something, he gets it. he's a major green flag but can be a little greedy when it comes to you. you've noticed that since the very start of your relationship that started 6 months ago. the bare minimum? he goes beyond that, giving more than you think you deserve and whenever you tried to stop him and whine that he's doing too much, he'd usually shut you up with a kiss, telling you that whatever he was doing wasn't even his best.

love bombing? that ain't him either, he knows the limits and your boundaries that you set up. trust him, he knows what he's doing, thank his mother for that.

"your boss already called" "what?" he chuckles at your confused expression and points to your phone that you left in the kitchen. "he called telling you not to come into work, the weather is getting pretty dangerous to go out. maybe an online meeting later or something" smirking as he wipes away the syrup from the corner of your lips. "so, you're telling me, i got dressed in my work clothes for no reason?" sighing as you shove another forkful of waffles in your mouth causing jay to chuckle at you. "wear the top part to your meeting later and wear those comfy cat pjs you like to wear"

later in the day, jay was minding his own business sitting on your living room couch working on his own paperwork when you suddenly came and hugged him from behind. "well, hello to you, pretty baby."

he tilted his head to look at you, asking if you needed anything. you shook your head and just continued hugging him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. jay smiled softly, taking one of your hands and kissing the back of it. "meeting over?" he asked, gently pulling you around to sit beside him on the couch.

"yeah… was hoping to spend time with you now," you said, a small pout forming as your eyes fell on the scattered documents and laptop on the table. the work seemed to mock you with how much it was keeping jay occupied. he caught your gaze and chuckled, pressing another kiss to your knuckles. "just a few more, then i'm all yours."

you nodded with a sigh, but after a few minutes of waiting, your patience began to waver. jay was still deep in concentration, his brows furrowed as he typed. unable to sit still, you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder and tracing invisible patterns on his arm.

"babe," jay said softly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "you're making it hard to concentrate."

"good," you replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. "you've been working for hours."

"i know, i know," he said, chuckling as he glanced sideways at you. "just give me a bit more time, okay?"

but you weren't done being needy. your hand slid down to lace with his, giving it a light squeeze, and you pressed small kisses to his shoulder, each one more distracting than the last. jay tried to stay focused, but the playful huff he let out told you he was struggling.

"you’re trouble, you know that?" he teased, finally putting down his pen and turning his full attention to you. before you could react, he scooped you up and settled you on his lap, making you gasp at the sudden move. your face flushed as you looked at him, wide-eyed.

"jay!" you exclaimed, trying to regain your composure, but he just grinned, eyes crinkling with amusement. "what? you wanted my attention, didn't you?" he teased, fingers trailing up your sides, making you squirm and giggle.

"stop it, you're not playing fair!" you protested, laughter bubbling out as he leaned in, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

"i thought you liked it when i didn't play fair," he whispered, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. you felt your heart race as his hands stilled, holding you close, the laughter replaced by a soft, contented silence.

"okay, okay, you win," you admitted, resting your forehead against his. he smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"good," he said. "because i'm finally done, and now, i'm all yours."

[op-81-lvr]

💪🏻 PhysicalTherapist!Oscar Piastri x Male!reader

F1 X Reader; Role Reversal series Masterlist

Summary: When you get into a pretty horrific crash that costs you the rest of the season Oscar is there to pick up the pieces and help nurse your leg back to health.

CW: car accidents, talks of amputation, crying, screaming, probably inaccurate medical terminology (if anyone wants to correct me on anything I can change please let me know!), swearing (It’s just embedded into my vocab), use of drugs in a medical sense, one mention of foreplay, One mention of sex, content is a bit jumpy and the ending is rushed af but I just wanted to get this out.

A/N: Oscar has a PhD, The timelines don’t line up I am aware. For the sake of this we are pretending he is a child prodigy because I said so.

Sources of information: https://www.healthywa.wa.gov.au/Articles/F_I/Ilizarov-frame,

~

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 269k others

Your_Username Boyfriend took a week off work y’all know what that means. Oscar is coming to a race 🥰😍❤️😘💕💖♥️😍🥰

oscarpiastri I think you need more PR training because wtf 😦

Your_Username What? I never said (Or did for that matter) anything sexual, I just love you

oscarpiastri I love you too but what is with the emojis?

mclaren We like Oscar, Oscar keeps you from downing a monster and then wondering why you can hear your own heartbeat

oscarpiastri I feel so loved 😍

User1 Oscar and Admin teaming up against (Y/N) will never not be funny 😭✋

User2 This means we get more videos of “goo-goo eyes” (Y/N) again because you already know Oscar is being dragged everywhere with him this weekend.

~

“I love you” You said, catching Oscars lips against yours. Whenever he was at a race you had to kiss him before you got in the car, you claimed it was for ‘luck’.

You then pulled your balaclava and your helmet over your head and Oscar kissed the top of your helmet, another thing you insisted he do “I love you too” he responded.

You climbed over the halo of your car and slid into the seat, waving to Oscar as your mechanics guided your car to the grid.

Then it was interviews, reviewing data, the national anthem and then another quick word with Martin Brundle with Sky Sports before sliding your balaclava and helmet over your head again and climbing back in your car for the formation lap.

You were starting P3, not bad all things considered. You had Carlos in P2 front of you and then Charles in P1, in the grand scheme of things not too shabby.

The cars kicked off as you did the formation lap, you went round no problems. getting into your place on the grid, Lando next to you.

The race kicked off, Lando managed to gain a place on you which you very quickly take back in the first corner.

You went back and fourth for the next few laps, swapping positions every few corners. Everything was going fine, you had been allowed to race each other.

Then you were side by side chasing each other down a straight and as you got to the corner he didn’t turn with you and he didn’t brake. Lando was having a brake failure and you were away to be a victim of it too.

Landos car completely T-barred yours. You kept gliding across the gravel trap until you hit the barrier.

And then came the pain.

The impact made you body ache, everything hurt. You couldn’t source where you were hurting from because everywhere hurt.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) respond please” Your engineer demanded. You pressed the button on your wheel but found no energy to speak, your lungs hurt too much. You just groaned down the line, hoping that would satisfy. “Okay. Okay, the marshals are on their way. Please just hang in there” He sounded distressed.

Lando was already up and walking. Your car has cushioned the blow of the crash for him and now his front wing was pressing into the side of the front wing of.

Landos helmet appeared above you, shielding your eyes from the sunlight a little more.

“C’mon mate, you have to get up” Lando said reaching his hand into the car for you to take it. You took it and attempted to stand up but when your left leg got any weight on it you fell. The pain travelled al up your leg, striking every nerve in your system.

You collapsed back into your seat and let the warm embrace of darkness take you.

~

Oscars heart was away to fall out his throat. He watched you make contact with the wall. He watched Lando get out unscathed and now he was watching Lando attempt to help you because the marshals were taking too long.

He watched as you took Lando’s hand and try and pull yourself up and then he watched as you fell back into your seat. That was when Lando turned to the drone cameras nearby and made some sort of gesture to them. Then the broadcast was cut and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

He chucked his headphones provided by McLaren onto the table before him, got up and went to your drivers room. He needed to get his stuff and leave. He needed to be with you when you were inevitably admitted to hospital.

He was rushing, recklessly throwing your things in your backpack you brought with you. It had both your things in it but you being the ever loving gentleman you were to carry it.

“Fuck, keys” Oscar muttered. He had no clue where you left the keys to your rented McLaren. Eventually after spiralling for a good 10 minutes he found the keys in one of the drawers you had in your bathroom. Keys, phone and wallet all kept safe in one place. Oscar felt like he could breathe again.

“Mate, are you really away to drive like this?” Your performance coach, Mitchell, said from the door to your drivers room.

“Yeah, I need to be with him” Oscar said, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he turned around.

“Do you even know what hospital they’re taking him to?” Mitchell asked, Oscar hesitated. Shit. He didn’t know where you were. He shook his head.

“I know where they’re taking him let me drive you Oscar, It’s not safe for you to be driving right now” Mitchell added.

“Yeah okay” Oscar said, placing the keys in the jacket pocket (Just in case). He swing the backpack over his shoulder and began following Mitchell out of the room. He just wanted out of here and be wherever you were.

You had been taking to a high level trauma centre in Milan. The drive wasn’t too bad considering the crowds were still at the circuit and in no rush to leave.

It was smooth sailing, right through the roads until they got to the hospital. Oscar still felt sick. He didn’t know what was wrong with you. His hand’s were shaking. He was scared, he needed to hold your hand and tell you were okay before he would even think about calming down.

He abandoned your trainer before he had even properly parked the car. As soon as he seen the doors he swung the car door open and bolted.

“I’m here to-“ He took a breathe, he ran too fast, “I’m here to see (Y/N) (L/N), he should have been admitted about 5 minutes ago” Oscar said, he eyes moving erratically as if you would instantly appear before him.

“He was admitted to the ER on red alert 3 minutes ago. May I ask your relation to the patient?” The nurse enquired.

“Uhh- I umm. I’m his boyfriend and power of attorney” Oscar said. Your team would have transferred over your paperwork, the nurses would know who he was, his power of attorney was listed on your papers.

That was one of the most difficult conversations you had ever had with Oscar. You brought it up one night when you were in bed, Oscar remembers being asked so clearly, ‘If I ever become incapacitated, will you speak for me?’ Oscar though it was just a safety precaution, your job was dangerous, he never thought he may actually have to decided what was best for you when you couldn’t.

“Name?” The nurse further enquired. Typing something into the computer before her

“Oscar” He said, pulling out his wallet and handing over his ID “Oscar Piastri”

“Okay, your boyfriend is in trauma room 3 right now. You can wait in the waiting room until someone comes to see you.” Oscar just nodded. He sometimes forget that just because he was technically a doctor he still could not see you, he didn’t work here.

Your trainer eventually caught up with him. They both sat side by side in the waiting room expecting news, waiting, watching people come and leave and still no news.

Oscar wept numerous time in the 2 hours they were sat in the waiting room. Mitchell being the one to rub his shoulder and remind him how stubborn you were.

Eventually a doctor in bloodied scrubs came and requested him, he doesn’t think he has ever stood up so fast.

“Mr. Piastri?” The doctor asked before beginning. Shit. The doctor does not sound like he has good news.

“Yeah” He said, letting in a deep breath.

“We have an update on your partner” Oscar glanced up at the doctor, something hopeful sparked within him. “He is in surgery, his lung collapsed and we had to re-inflate it. He currently is breathing on his own however. He has some swelling on the brain, that should go down with rest.”

“Thats it?” Oscar asked, why were you in surgery if you were going to be fine?

“Its his left leg we’re worries about, its broken in 3 different places and he is already showing signs of infection” The doctor began “Do you wish us to try and save it with pins and screws or guarantee his safety and get rid of his leg?” The doctor enquired.

Oscar was going to spew, what kind of sick twisted act of god was this. Why did he have to be the one to decided whether or not to keep it.

On one had, he knew first hand how long certain types of breaks took to heal, breaking a bone in more than one place would take months to heal and he knew you would spend most of that time in agony, feeling sorry for yourself.

On the other hand however, putting you though an amputation would most likely kill your spirit, end your career and make you hate him. It would however save you from the infection that, if it spreads, could very well kill you. Why could Mitchell not have just stayed your power of attorney? Life would have been so much easier and he would not have to make the choice.

Oscar bit his lip.

Why did it have to be him to make this call?

Fuck.

“Save the leg” He blurted out. It was probably the right call. At least try and fix what was broken. Amputation was a total worst case scenario.

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do” And with that the doctor pivoted on their heel and stormed back down the hall to what Oscar assumes was the surgical ward.

Oscar slumped back down in the chair next to Mitchell. Mitchel looked back at him, as if waiting for a response but not wanting to push.

“He’s in surgery, his lung collapsed and he has minor swelling in the brain.” Oscar began, Mitchell just watched intently as Oscar spoke “His leg is broken in three places and he’s showing signs of early infection, they just asked if I wanted them to try and fix it or amputate it” Oscars voice kept cracking as he tried not to cry.

“Oh” Mitchell said, leaning back in his chair. Oscar and Mitchell became pretty close friends since they met, they watched a lot of races together and both had degrees in sport science, even if Oscar went on to achieve a PhD and Mitchell went straight into work.

“Yeah” Oscar sighed out, rubbing the corners of his eyes to stop the tears flowing. “I told them to try save it, I think he would kill me if I didn’t” Oscar said, smiling slightly trying to lighten the mood

“I need to call him mum” Oscar said, pulling out his phone and wondered into a more isolated corner of the waiting room.

Your parents worked, they couldn’t just drop everything just to come see you. Oscar was there and there was no point making the journey if Oscar was there and you were stable.

Your mum picked up after 1 ring. She must’ve been waiting by her phone for news. “Hello, (Y/Mothers/N)”

“Oh Oscar, where is he? Can I speak to him?” Your mother exclaimed, she sounded like she had been crying. Understandable considering she had just watched one of her sons get into a horrific accident, watch him collapse and then hear nothing again for hours.

“I’m sorry, he’s in surgery right now. His leg is broken in 3 places and it needs to be screwed back together with metal plates” Oscar said down the phone. He did not want to be the one to relay this news but he was the only one that could.

“Oh…” Your bother began “Well keep me updated then. Thank you Oscar” Your mother said before promptly hanging up the phone. She clearly was in no fit state to talk to anyone right now.

Oscar sighed and returned to Mitchell. He sat in the seat and curled his knees up to his chest. Your mum would be fine, she had your siblings with her.

~

Hours passed before they heard anything again. It was just silence, crying, him and Mitchell catching up a bit, more silence until the doctor in the scrubs showed up again.

“Relations of Mr. (L/N)?” Oscar and Mitchell stood up and nodded. “He’s out of surgery, he is stable, still breathing on his own but we want to keep him sedated for the time being.” The doctor began “You can however go and see him, No plants for children in the ICU however and please mind the wires and metal.”

Oscar never reacted so fast. He had never wanted to get somewhere more than he did right now. He followed the signs to the ICU only then to remember he still didn’t know what room you were in. He pulled a nurse aside.

“Do you know where I could find (Y/N) (L/N)?” Oscar asked her. The nurse just started blankly at him. Crap. She didn’t speak english, he totally forgot he was in a country where the native language was not english.

“Uhhh- Leg, broken leg” he repeated, gesturing down at his leg, thankfully she got the message and nodded. Signalling him to follow her.

She led him to a room a little further down the hall. She opened the door and looked at Oscar. Oscar thanked her and she nodded and left.

Oscar took one look at you and started crying again. Oscar had never seen you so still. Your chest was still rising and falling but you were far too still.

Your leg was secured in metal. You were going to freak the fuck out when you woke up again.

“Oh baby” Oscar said gently, he takes a seat in the chair by your bed. Takes your hand and kisses it gently. “You’re gonna be okay”

He had no idea if you could hear him however, if on the off chance you could, he wanted to talk to you, remind you he was there.

“Lando’s gonna be okay at least, you cushioned his blow” Oscar said, he didn’t know if he was joking or not but if he didn’t laugh he would probably cry so he just went with it.

“Your mum is worried about you” Oscar began, he had to keep talking because he could get so easily freaked out by the silence of a room. “I think she needs to talk to you before she believes you’re okay, I know your siblings won’t leave her though.”

~

Oscar stayed with you for 3 days, he left to go shower and shave once but it was rushed and he missed bits. He was terrified of leaving you and coming back to you having some sort of issue. Expecting to come back and you were not breathing.

Mitchell had gone home, he had a family waiting for him at and as much as he cares about you he knows you have Oscar and he would be okay to go home and be with his kids.

“The doctors say you’re making good progress at least. Say your head is healing quite well.” Oscar began, picking up your hand and kissing it, trying not to irritate the cannula you had in your hand.

“I’m gonna go and update your mum, I will be right back baby I promise” He said, kissing your forehead gently and leaving the room, phone in hand.

Little did he know that in the 15 minutes he had spent talking to your mother you would wake up surrounded by nurses with no clue where you were or what was happening.

~

“I want Oscar” You cried out through sobs of pure agony that was running through your body right now. This was far from the most dignified moment of your life but you didn’t care, you were in pain and you wanted your boyfriend to hold you.

The nurses were scrambling about trying locate Oscar, he was in the waiting room on the phone updating your mother the last time any of the nurses had seen him.

Eventually he came back up the corridor, expecting you to still be asleep under the sedative they had given you when you had been taken into the hospital when you wouldn’t stop screaming.

Instead he was met with 2 nurses all looking slightly distressed as they stood at the outside of your door, a further nurse in the room trying to calm you down.

“He’s awake and wants you, Mr. Piastri however if you do not calm him down we may need to sedate him again before he does himself another injury.” The shorter nurse of the two said as she glanced back into the room behind her.

“O-okay” Oscar replied, paling a little at the thought of them having to sedate you again just because you could not come to terms with what was happening right now.

He entered the room not really knowing what to expect from you considering you had just woken up from being asleep for 3 days and had just found out you needed reconstructive surgery on you leg. He was met with your tear streaked face followed by hiccups and more of you shouting at nurses to find Oscar.

“I’m here baby, i’m sorry! I shouldn’t have left” Oscar announced his presence in the room, the nurses parting so that he can get through and see you.

Oscar approached you gently, still unsure if you were considering attacking or not. He gently kissed your forehead and you just started crying again.

“It hurts so much” You cried through more sobs. This was probably the most you had cried like… ever.

The last thing you remembered was kissing Oscar goodbye on the grid as you pulled your helmet over your head and prepared for lights out so why were you in a hospital? Why were you in so much pain?

“I don’t- what even happened?” You said, practically gasping for air between words.

“You were in a crash, shattered your Tibia and did yourself some internal damage” Oscar began, he sat in the chair that was beside the bed you were in. The nursed had cleared out now, they no longer thought you were going to hurt yourself or anyone else “Baby, your lung collapsed and I was so scared. They had to sedate you when they brought you in just to calm you down”

You sat there looking at Oscar as if he had just grown 6 heads. You blinked, hoping maybe you were dreaming, that you would wake up and this would all be a nasty dream and then you didn’t wake up, this was your new, horrific? reality.

You looked down at your leg and there it was again, that ugly metal rods that poked out of your leg, mocking you and your career. You needed your leg, it was not something that you could just live without and still be an f1 driver.

“Wh- Oscar this is some sick joke right? Do you know how long bones take to heal? Months, Oscar, months” You say, your breathing speeding up again as you spiralled into panic, realistically you knew he knew how long bones took to heal it was literally his job to deal with patients who suffered broken bones and trauma that impacted their mobility

“(Y/N), look at me” Oscar said, holding your hand up to his mouth and kissing it. “This is not what you needed right now, I know that, but you should be grateful you even still have your leg, it was touch and go for a while” Oscar knew it was harsh to tell you such cruel things when you were panicking but he also knew that sometimes a slap back to reality is needed.

“I- okay” You said taking a deep breath through your nose and out through the mouth trying to calm yourself down. “It still hurts, can they give me more drugs?” you asked, normally you would swear off using drugs for anything. Even taking ibuprofen made you weary but you were genuinely in so much pain.

“Afraid not baby, they already maxed out your dose before they woke you up. You’re gonna be real floaty soon” Oscar said, a slight smile grazing his face. You had never been high before so the amount of drugs they had you on were going to hit you like a train.

Your doctor came into the room a few moments later after being told by the horde of nurses that you were awake and distressed. (and that they gave you more drugs so he better be quick if he wants you coherent).

“Ahhh Mr. (L/N), you’re awake!” He said in an overly put on happy voice. “As you may have noticed you’ve been out for a while” You just nodded along.

“Your injuries were quite extensive. You punctured a lung, gave yourself quite the concussion and the most obvious injury you may have noticed is your shattered Tibia.” You bit your lip slightly and nodded, looking at the metal structure that surrounded the bottom of your left leg.

Oscar squeezed your hand a little tighter, letting you know he was here. He wasn’t interfering with the doctors conversation, letting you take in what you were being told.

“We’ll assign you with a physical therapist once your leg is healed which we hope to be sorted in the next 2-4 months.” The doctor began and Oscar took this as his moment to interrupt.

“Hold it- i’m right here, I can take care of his physio” Oscar began, he knew you didn’t cope well with new people and people touching you so he, ultimately, would be your best bet at getting anywhere with physical therapy anyway.

“Mr. Piastri, I understand that you want to help but you’re much too close to this” The doctor began before Oscar cut him off.

“No, he doesn’t cope well being touched by strangers. It’ll take numerous sessions just to get him to let another physio touch him, let me do this” He begged, arguing for you as if you weren’t right there (metaphorically you weren’t, the morphine was beginning to kick in and you were feeling loopy as fuck) “I know him, we live together and I travel with him when I manage to close my clinic for a few days please just assign me to take care of him”

Oscar didn’t care how pathetic he sounded right now, He knew you, he knew your routines and little rituals you had before races and things you did to put yourself to sleep at night.

You two had known each other since you were young, you had both been shipped off to boarding school and were educated together. You separated when Oscar when to university to study sport science and you went off to persue Formula 1 and met each other again after your trainer referred you to a proper physio after a particularly bad bout of neck and back pain.

Ever since then you had been inseparable, never seen apart. Point is he needed to care for you in anyway he could. He would make room for you in his schedule, he ran his own private clinic in london so it wouldn’t be that hard to shift his schedule around for you.

The doctor bit his lip, considering it for a moment. “Now are you absolutely sure about this, because frankly I don’t think this is a good idea” He began

“Yes, yes I am. I can take care of him. I know him, I know what he liked and what he doesn’t plus he already is comfortable with me touching him” Oscar began spewing out reasons he should take care of you, why he needs to take care of you.

“And I live with him, I would be with him most days. Just please. It would save the hassle of you trying to find a physiotherapist in London from here anyway” Oscar would literally start a war if this doctor did not get his shit together and let Oscar take over your care.

“Okay fine, we can discuss paperwork later but as for just now I would go and sit with him. He’s gonna get real giddy in a few minutes” The doctor said, gathering up his stuff and promptly leaving the room. It was just you and Oscar again, just this time you’re awake.

“Has anyone ever told you, you have pretty hair” You said, staring at Oscar as if he was the Sistine Chapel. You eyes were already getting a bit bloodshot and glassy, Oscar just blushed slightly.

“Maybe once or twice” Oscar said, playing into what ever mind games the Morphine was playing in you. It was in fact you that always told Oscar he had pretty hair and got all stroppy when he got a haircut.

He took your hand and kissed it again. “I think you should go to sleep before you say anything else you’ll regret”

“Fine” You said like a stroppy toddler. You lay back and let yourself fall asleep. Your soft breaths once again filled the room as you let yourself rest.

Oscar just sat back and sighed, it was going to be a long few months with you but he was willing. He wanted this, it was always you that took care of him. He wanted it to be his turn to take care of you.

~

After another few weeks, a fuck tonne of drugs, loads of tears and lots of sleeping you were eventually discharged and sent home with crutches and a prescription for more pain killers.

The flight back home was a bit of a nightmare considering you couldn’t go through a metal detector without setting it off, you were in so much pain it was ridiculous. You would have taken pills for the pain but you had put them in your suitcase and not your carry on.

Oscar had tried his best to soothe you but ultimately there was nothing he could do but hold your hand and give you kisses until you got off the plane.

“You know you never had to shut your clinic to stay with me, you could have gone home to run the place” You said. You had felt guilty as anything after Oscar told you he was staying and taking time off to be with you.

“I didn’t shut my clinic, I left in Tina charge while I was gone.” He shrugged, casual as anything “Plus I was technically seeing a patient” He said smugly.

You were Oscars patient now, he had your medical file on his work computer, he had your patient history and he was not gonna let it go. He was so serious about this that he blanked you when you said it would make for great foreplay.

“You are such a sap” You said, pushing him gently. You were, thankfully, flying private. You weren’t sure you could deal with the public and the paparazzi taking non -consentual photos of you in an airport with crutches, a metal brace around your leg and your boyfriend correcting your posture every 5 minutes.

The flight was uneventful for the remainder. You eventually dozed off, Oscar had opted to lay you in his lap and rub your scalp until you fell asleep and he didn’t wake you up until you were away to land.

The car ride to your London home was also largely uneventful. You called a cab because neither of you had a car readily available (not like you could drive anyway).

The first issue you faced was when you got to your house and remembered you had stairs to climb to get into your house. Oscar had to take your bags inside and then have to guide you up the stairs slowly.

“This is fucking humiliating” You mutter as Oscar guides you up the stairs. “World’s greatest athletes and I can’t even climb the stairs to my own house” You mutter, Oscar hears though. He always does somehow.

“You are still a good athlete baby, you’re just hurt and need taken care of right now thats all” Oscar responds gently. He was always patient with you when you started spiralling and getting into your own head.

You had an athletes mentality and that was something Oscar had gotten very used to considering he worked with athletes of varying professions and levels and though you. With you he saw the mental ups and downs he assumes most athletes go though.

“What am I supposed to do for the next 3 months” You exclaim as Oscar helps you onto your sofa. “I can’t exercise properly, Can’t go on walks or runs, I can’t even sleep in my side” You whine. For some a break like this would be ideal but not for you, you could not for the life of you sit still for long periods of time.

“Exercise is actually good for your leg, even if your shin is fucked right now you still need to keep the leg moving.” Oscar explained “You’ll just be in more pain if you don’t move it”

“Now, you’re gonna take your painkillers and then go for a nap because I think you need rest” Oscar said, slipping a pill in between your lips and forcing you to drink the water he gave to you

He lifted his head from its place on the sofa, threw the cushion out from under it and slotted himself in it’s place. Placing you back down so your head was lay in his lap.

“Now, i’m comfy, you’re comfy and everyone is safe so go to sleep” He said, stroking your face gently with his hands “I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise”

You let your eyes droop and your aches to go numb as the warmth of sleep overtook your system. You had no problems letting Oscar massage your face to send you to sleep.

In reality Oscar felt he needed to watch you sleep, to watch you breathe, the even rise and fall of your chest was a comfort to him. The last time he could not see you sleeping your lung collapsed and you could not breathe. Oscar felt it was his duty and as a doctor (technically) to be the one to take note of your health, make sure your body was working properly.

He turned the TV on and eventually he himself dozed off. He would never tell anyone, especially not you, how tired he let himself become those last few weeks in Italy. He was going to make himself sick if he stayed in hospital with you a little longer just so he could stay with you.

~

The next few weeks were hellish.

Oscar had been helping you move your legs and clean the entry site of the pins in your leg. Or he was trying, you kept doing so well and then having days where you were in nothing but pain and cried all day.

In between all of this Oscar had also gone back into work, just with reduced hours, he did still have clients after all. Your injury didn’t just magically heal his other patients that he saw regularly

Today, Oscar wasn’t really doing much with you. He was just having you practice walking on your crutches again.

“You know this would be easier if you came into my practise instead of using our living room” Oscar said, looking up at you from the sofa

“No!” You exclaim “I cannot leave the house like this, Do you know how humiliating this would be if a fan found me, I can’t fucking walk Oscar!” You wanted to shout so very badly but you couldn’t because you knew better than to piss of your physio (and boyfriend)

“Baby, I understand I really do bu-“ Oscar began

“No you don’t! You do not understand, I am under constant scrutiny from the press and the fans and the news. I cannot have them see me like this. I cannot handle the rumours about my career by random people on the internet” You snap.

“You’re right” Oscar said, looking at the floor. “I do not understand baby but you need proper equipment, which I have, it’s just at my practise. Please just let them speculate for the sake of your health. Hell even make a statement yourself just to shut them up.”

“You’re right, i’m being stupid.” You began, adjusting yourself as you lean onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping, I love you”

“I love you too” Oscar said kissing your hairline gently.

~

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 704k others

Your_Username Life since my accident 🩶

Seriously though I would like to send a massive thanks to the Paramedics and Doctors in Italy that literally saved my life. I’m not gonna go into detail about my injuries until I feel ready but it was scary. Even bigger thanks to Dr. Boyfriend who took me home and has dealt with my moody ass for the past few weeks

As for my career, I am still unsure as to what will happen with my future. You aren’t rid of me just yet though, I can promise you that.

Lots of Love, (Y/N) (L/N)

oscarpiastri So very proud of you baby, We’re gonna get through this together 💪🏻

mclaren We’re gonna miss you at MTC for the next few months ☹️

Comments on this post have been limited

~

The following weeks were a nightmare, Oscar began working close to his full schedule. You wondered if this is what Oscar felt like when you were away for weeks at a time for racing. Only so much TV could fill the time you spend sitting on the couch, doing basic exercises to keep your leg moving and more sitting on the couch.

When Oscar was home you spent a lot of time listening about his day, you not having much to add to that conversation these days. Sometimes your recovering and his work overlapped.

That was the times you enjoyed the most lately.

You got to see Oscar in his ‘natural habitat’ as you would call it. It’s where he was content, in his zone. It was so nice to see him so comfortable in an environment most people feel tense in.

Earlier in the week you had been papped waking from Oscar’s car to the clinic on crutches. You had never been phased by the paparazzi but now, in your state you were mortified.

“I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal” Oscar said, you were sat in his office in his exam bed as he cleaned the entry points or your pins. “I mean the media know you’re injured, they know you won’t be driving for a while and they know i’m doing your physio” He shrugged.

“I know, it’s just a bit irritating that they can’t just let me be injured in peace y’know?” You reply, wincing slightly as Oscar pressed at a particularly tender piece of skin

“I get that but surely it could be worse, people know you’re okay, The media can stop trying to contact you for your where about and People know you’re with me and you’re all mine” Oscar said, leaving a slightly unprompted kiss to your knee

“I supposed” You grumble, laying back on the exam bed as Oscar began making you bend your leg. “I love you”

“I love you too”

~

“(Y/N) you fabulous, fabulous man! You my friend have just won your first championship” You engineer yelled over you comms.

You couldn’t respond, you were crying while trying to navigate your cooldown lap.

A 18-months ago you almost lost your leg, told that you would probably never walk again. A year ago you could barely bed you knee. Eight months ago you were falling behind in the championship, the media beating you up. Five months ago you began your record breaking comeback and right now you had just won the championship off all championships in Vegas

You climbed out of your car after taking a moment to yourself. A deep breath. A moment of silence.

You did the usual jumping into the crowd of engineers as they pulled you over the fence and held you up. It took 5 minutes for your feet to return to the ground. And then there was Oscar, who was also crying.

You went to hug him, pulling him close and then pulling him over the fence so you could properly give him kissed “This is all because of you baby, all of it. You’re the one who nursed me back to health, back to this point” You whispered in his ear, over the crowds of people screaming your name.

“I’m so proud of you” He said kissing your cheek. Photographers taking this as their moment to strike. “And you are getting railed so hard tonight”

And now you’re less glad you’re surrounded by photographers.

[sunr1seblvd]

- red.

'cause loving him was red.

this is apart of my taylor swift-inspired series. click here to read more stories!

summary: a summation of you and rafe's relationship. a/n: merry christmas! (its november 1st when i'm writing this) warnings: bad relationships, drugs (what else is new), drinking/alcohol, lowk toxic!rafe wc: 742

you were watching netflix on your laptop when you got the call.

the call that would inevitably change your life.

"rafe? what's up?"

"who is this?" a female voice asked.

oh no.

"this is his girlfriend, who are you?"

"i'm his girlfriend, what ar-" you hung up the call.

when you were younger, you promised yourself that you wouldn't the type of person this would happen to. you'd have the man of your dreams, who'd be an amazing father, who'd be an amazing husband. you should've known that rafe was none of those things.

you shut off your laptop and plopped it on the floor, not caring how it fell. curled in the fetal position under the covers of your bed, your eyes burned as you cried and cried and cried.

you thought you and rafe had a good thing going. you were a senior at UNC and were probably going to get your doctorate, too. you met your sophomore year, the blonde enticing you.

you should've known.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

"ready to go, babe?"

rafe turned towards you and looked you up. "what are you wearing?"

you looked down at your outfit. it wasn't necessarily revealing, it was mid-july, for christ's sake.

"a tank top and shorts, rafe? want do you want me to wear? temple clothing?"

"no, but if your gonna be my girl, cover up. nobody wants to see all that," he said while grabbing his keys and leaned in the doorway. "just do it."

you felt a fiery pit of anger in your heart. who was he to say what you can wear?

"no rafe, it's almost 95 degrees outside! i'm not putting jeans on or a jacket."

rafe shrugged. "okay then." he then went downstairs.

"rafe? where are you going?" you followed him downstairs to the foyer,

"out."

"where is 'out'? why are you leaving?"

"probably topper's or the country club. it's exhausting to be in the same house as you sometimes."

you stood there, shellshocked. you tried to move your legs, to run to walk, to sprint, to do something.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

you woke straight up. no longer fully under the covers up your bed, you rolled over to look at your phone.

2:30 am

ten missed calls from rafe <3

2 text messages from Mom

you got up to go to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. jeez, you looked rough. your mascara smudged, chapped lips almost bleeding...

you need to think.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

"y/n?"

"come in."

your mom walked in to see you pouring over your notebook, computer, and guitar. you wrote and wrote and wrote, then erased and erased.

"what's this?"

"i needed to think. sometime last night i realized that i couldn't stay sad about me and rafe, so here i am."

"okay, just wanted to check up on you. your dad and i are having dinner in an hour, are you coming?"

"yep," you replied, not looking away from your computer.

your mom sighed. "okay...love you."

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

"AHHH!! i got the audition!"

cleo, sarah, and kie whipped their head towards you and crowded around you and your computer.

"congrats!"

"good job!"

"what are you going to call the song?"

you got up and looked out the window in your room.

"i'm not sure."

then it dawned on you.

the relationship you had with rafe with rafe was passionate. the relationship you had with rafe was painful. the relationship you had with rafe was red.

burning red.

"it's gonna be called red."

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

you were in the green room for your SNL slot. your audition went perfectly, and they offered you a record deal. so here you are, two years later, about to make your SNL debut.

"y/n?" one of the crew poked their head in "you're on in five, okay?"

"thanks!"

you turned back to the mirror, taking in your features. you think back to that last night two years ago, the smudged mascara and chapped lips juxtaposing your perfect eyeliner and perfect foundation.

your phone got a notification.

you didn't see a name.

who is this?

y/n. it's rafe. i'm sorry.

you rolled your eyes.

rafe, don't do this. don't come crawling back to me knowing full well you're the reason this relationship ended. you made this bed, lie in it. goodbye, rafe.

the same crew member poked their head in again.

"y/n? it's time."

you turned off you phone and shoved it in your purse.

younger you was right.

loving him was red.

[browsing-and-anon-asking]

Hellooo first post

I was embarrassingly, watching back on one of my fav mlp redesigns videos and was like 'hey that would be cool... but with Fallout characters!!

Piper:

As you can see, I didn't mm change much. (Thank you Piper for your hate being easy to draw) However I assumed she's hot as fuck in all those layers and since she rarely goes out into the wastes, I thought of lessening the amount of clothing. Giving her a plain undershirt and jeans, her famous pretty jacket that has a 'closely matched' patch of cloth over one of the bigger holes in it. Also, all of her buttons are gone. So she has to have a belt to close her coat!

I also put her hair up bc I think she looks nice like that! Maid her hair a lil curly.

Gave her those belt bags to add on the 'women's clothes never have pockets' thing.

Gave her make up, since most reports before her wore it for charisma, I assume she picked that up.

Nail polish, I just think she'd like it to hide her dirty fingernails

Only does small smiles to hide her missing back teeth

Cait:

I changed a lot about her, bc honest!! I hated most of her design elements.

I forgot to put on her pit paint, so imagine this after going eirh sole survivor.

Took away her corset. Because I HATE that they would put a female cage fighter in ANOTHER unrealistic outfit. Let this woman breathe. Also, I made her tank top greasy because yes.

Made her more muscular, with more scars to show off. She's SO COOL!!!

Shortened her hair because hair is a BIG thing to grab in fights, and she's probably annoyed with how much people try to go for that. So she hacked it off! She did it herself!

I made her eyes a bit more detailed than the others to show off the drug abuse and trauma it left behind. It's not a lot, but it's a little detail, along with the needle holes in her arm.

So many missing teeth, and she's proud with a lisp.

Preston:

I love this man so much shut up.

Bethesda, let people of color have their hair! And have it be matted bc this man is too depressed to take care of himself instead of others

Made him less muscular and more on the skinnier side bc depression

Eyebags bc... depression.

I like his og coat, but again, so many layers are hard to run in, so I kept it to a minimum, like with Piper. His scarf, undershirt, slacks, and coat.

Give him more facial hair bc let that man actually look depressed bro.

Gave him earnings bc it just looks pretty on him. Small face scars he's clearly ashamed of and has tried to hide with makeup.

I mean, every word I said beside his head, they could change each other. For the better or worse

Thanks for reading! I'm gonna do a poll of other compainions to see which three I should do next :3

[vengeancemoths]

ok. yay! let's talk about jason todd autopsy scars.

WARNING: pretty thorough description of an autopsy ahead. if you don't like cut up bodies this one isn't for you.

prefacing this by saying i am not in any way a field expert in any of this, just a guy with really morbid autism and a pretty objectively concerning collection of nonfiction on the subject. i may be wrong about things! i did not crack open the books for my stupid little tumblr post (this time). people with actual experience feel free to correct me.

if jason had had a thorough autopsy performed on him, he would not come back to life* and also probably bruce wayne would go to jail.

*or at least come back with scars from it. more on that later!

if an autopsy was performed it would have to be by someone who knew about batman because robin's scars are pretty difficult to explain. it would be pretty easy to bypass an official autopsy, jason was blown up, his cause of death is not exactly a mystery.

bruce wayne might be the kind of guy who's so obsessive he needs to know exactly which event actually killed jason (if the crowbar killed him, batman couldn't have gotten there in time. if the smoke killed him....). but maybe he also wouldn't want to know for the same reason.

the most important thing is that we know jason had massive head trauma. if you were trying to figure out which of the many terrible things that happened to him was the one that killed him, you'd want to take a look at the brain.

and guys, i don't know if you know this, but the brain only holds its shape because it's inside your skull. the human brain is the consistency of silken tofu. once it's out of your head, it's not going back in.

this is inconvenient for coroners, so they'll probably spend several days soaking jason's brain in a chemical concoction designed to make it firm up. once they do that, it's time to dissect it.

but the fun doesn't end there! once they're done, if they don't just dispose of the brain separately, they're still not going to go through the trouble if wrangling it back into jason's cranium (now open on top, like an egg cup). it goes in the organ bag!

did i forget to mention the organ bag? look, they're not going to put all of his wet organs back into his chest cavity. he's already rapidly decaying. if bruce wayne gets his son back and he's leaking there'll be hell to pay.

so all the organs, which at this point have also been cut into little pieces to study, get jumbled together in a plastic bag. that they do stick back into the kind of gaping hole that the organs vacated. then they stick the ribs back in place (they were sawed off, at the beginning, to gain entry to the organs).

and honestly? without the brain in the mix i can almost believe it. i guess if jason had a really shitty autopsy courtesy of gotham's overcrowded underfunded mortuary? i mean more people who write jason resurrection fic should have to think about the organ bag, and what happens to it. would it just sort of glorp out of him while his organs wiggle themselves back into place? one day i will write my funeral industry accurate jason todd resurrection fic and it will make everyone sad and uncomfortable.

but i guess my thesis statement is that i think it would be really hard to come back to life if your brain was in 7-14 pieces inside a plastic bag where your stomach used to be.

the most likely way for the resurrection to work, in that case, would be to restore his body to its state directly before death, which does unfortunately predate his autopsy.

so what this post is saying is that jason probably wouldn't have had an autopsy, but even if he did, he wouldn't have the scars to show for it.

now, the idea that they're vivisection scars and ra's al ghul was poking around in there? i like that a lot

[bersford]

MAFIA X COP

mafia boss!clay beresford x cop!reader

warnings: NSFW / SMUT ; sex tapes ; kidnapping ; (unprotected) PIV sex ; long buildup to the actual sex scene

writers note: this is all fiction and probably won’t happen in real life, im not too educated in the whole mafia stuff so if there are any inconsistencies i am sorry !

You're a detective for the NYPD (new york police department) and you're running an investigation on a robbery - when you realize clay, a very powerful and dangerous man, had done it, you quickly shut down your investigation, not wanting to get involved with him. you're completely oblivious to the fact that clay had already found out every single detail about you the day you joined the force. from your appearance, to your favorite color, to a super top secret sex tape you made in college…

Clay is sitting in his hotel suite, nursing a whiskey as he watches you on top of some scrawny guy. the footage is black and white and shows you bouncing up and down on the boys lap, your back arching at a certain angle that makes your tits look amazing.

Clay sets down his drink once he feels the stirring in his pants. he grabs the phone and dials a number from memory,

“Vinnie, get me y/f/n y/l/n.” he says firmly and quickly. “Get you her…” Vinnie repeats with his thick italian accent,

“how, boss?” He asks, needing more info so he doesn’t screw anything up.

“Just bring her to my suite, as soon as possible. And listen, vinnie… be gentle, yeah?” clay replies, his tone softer than usual.

the next day, as you’re walking briskly to your apartment building, two men emerge from the shadows. one clamps a gloved hand over your mouth, before you can scream, while the other puts a bag over your head.

you get thrown into a van with three other men, the two that had kindapped you and the driver.

The men carefully guide you to sit on the van's bench seat, their grip firm but not painful. One of them speaks in a gruff whisper, “Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Detective. The boss just wants to talk.”

“W-who are you?” you ask, your voice cracking.

“Name’s vinnie, that’s marco and the driver there isn’t important. We’re taking you to clay beresford.” Vinnie grins, as if he had just told you incredible news.

“Beresford…” you repeat, the name familiar on your tongue.

Vinnie chuckles darkly. “That's right, dollface. Beresford. Now, you're gonna come with us nice and quiet, ain't ya? No fuss.”

You sit quietly, leg shaking in … fear? anticipation? just anxiety in general maybe?

They bring you to clays hotel suite discreetly. Vinnie knocks on the door and as expected, clay opens it. “leave us.” he waves off vinnie and marco.

Clay undoes your blindfold and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the light, your pupils dilating. “Clay,” you greet him coolly.

“Y/f/n,” he greets with the same cool tone. his gaze travels up and down your body, stopping shortly to take in your heaving chest before continuing down to your hips. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to mask your fear.

Clay steps closer, his hands roaming over your sides “I think you know exactly what i want.” his hand reaches to unbutton the first button on your blouse.

“You want to fuck a detective?” you ask in disbelief.

“It’s more than that, darling.” he murmurs, his finger popping the button open, “I want you to be mine. To be my wife. To carry my name. To bear my children.”

You reach up to redo the button on your blouse. this is crazy. you’re a cop, for gods sake! you can’t just marry a mafia boss. i mean- it goes against everything you believe in! “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he lets his hands drop to his sides, “last time i checked you weren’t spoken for. No husband, no boyfriend.”

“Just because im single doesn’t mean i can be with you.” You state firmly.

Clay chuckles darkly, “and why not?” He moves closer, slowly sliding his hands around your waist to pull you flush against him. “i can give you everything. money, power, protection, anything you want or need, i have it ready for you.” He murmurs against your lips, leaning in to press his against yours.

You lean up, ready to lose yourself in his lips before backing away. “no, no, i can’t do this.” You rub your temples, frustrated.

“Come on, what’s stopping you?” clay asks, crossing his arms.

“I just can’t.” You furrow your brows, confused as to why this is all happening and how it happened so quickly.

“Your lips say that, but your body says otherwise.” you’re back in the position you were before, with his arms around your waist and bodies pressed together “Can’t you see it? our bodies fit together perfectly, we’re made for each other.” Clay chuckles, exaggerating his words in a playful manner.

You back away again “i- i took an oath to serve and protect-,”

“Fuck oaths. Y/f/n, im telling you that you can have everything in the world if you just say you’ll be mine and you’re thinking about some oath?”

You stay silent, feeling way too many emotions to say anything.

Clay rubs his temples, unsure of how to convince you. “Look, i know this is a lot to take in, but i’ve been fascinated with you since the day you joined the force. I promise you, if you just say yes, you’ll be the happiest woman alive.”

He leans in close, too close, close enough for his lips to touch yours. To his surprise, you don’t pull away. He smiles softly against your lips as your tongues tangle around each other.

You’re both left breathless and panting when you pull away, “you’re a crime boss..” you whisper against his lips. “I’m a businessman.” he corrects you before claiming your lips again and letting his hands wander all over your body.

Clay lifts your leg up to hook on his hip, sliding his hand down to your ass then lifting you up. “Wrap your legs around me, darling.” He murmurs against your lips and you do as he says without thinking twice.

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down on the king sized bed, one hand on your waist and the other spreading your legs. He starts unbuttoning your blouse eagerly, his lips still pressed against yours.

His lips wander down to your neck, sucking and biting gently. Your blouse is now half open, your tits almost spilling out of your bra.

“Say you’ll be mine, y/f/n.” he murmurs against your lips as his hands slide down your unzip your skirt. “say it.”

You pause for a moment then murmur “I’ll be yours..” against his lips.

Those three words seem to heighten clays desire, his movements become more hungry and less calculated. He slides your skirt down then takes a moment to admire your naked form.

“Holy…” He breathes then presses a kiss to the center of your chest, then your stomach, then just above the waistline of your panties. “a body like yours deserves to be worshipped.” he murmurs then crawls back up to kiss your lips.

You kiss him back hungrily, now starting to undress him. once his dress shirt is open he shrugs it off and reveals a set of toned abs. his hands swiftly unbuckle his belt and slide his pants off. your gaze drifts down his body in appreciation, stopping at his boxers to appreciate the bulge.

“Like what you see?” he smirks then hooks his fingers in your panties, silently asking for permission to tug them down. you nod and he pulls them down your legs then tosses them on the floor, reaching his hand behind your back to undo your bra.

His gaze zeros on your tits, he leans in and presses a kiss or two on your breast before sucking on your nipple gently. He releases it with a soft pop then hooks your legs over his waist.

Clay aligns himself with your entrance then slowly pushes in “stop me if it’s too much,”

You throw your head back on his pillow and moan at the feeling of his length stretching you out.

Clays eyes are shut and his brows are furrowed as he groans, pushing deeper and deeper until his base disappears inside of you.

“Oh god” he moans, stilling inside you for a moment before he starts thrusting slowly “you’re so fucking tight.”

His hands guide your hips, moving them at the same speed as his thrusts at an angle that hits your perfect spot.

“Right there!” you throw your head back, your back arching slightly, signaling that you’re close.

“That’s it, baby, let go.” he smirks and keeps thrusting, gradually getting faster and harder.

You let out a high pitched moan, your legs twitching beneath him as you find your release.

Clay feels your walls clench around him and the feeling is… incredible. “fuck” he moans, “good girl.”

He holds back, determined to make you come again before he does. his fingers slide down between your thighs, rubbing and teasing your clit as he watches you writhe beneath him.

His thumb presses down and rubs your clit in time with his thrusts. His focus solely on your pleasure. “god, you’re gorgeous” his gaze locked on your face as you moan his name.

Clay lifts your hips higher, hooking your legs on his shoulders and thrusting in again, the new position allowing him to hit that perfect button inside you.

You let out a loud moan, biting your lip afterwards.

“That’s it, let me hear you.” he smiles and kisses your lips gently.

Those words make you break, your body shuddering beneath him, your back arching and your eyes rolled back. clay feels your walls clench around him once more and he lets himself let go. “fuck… fuck, FUCK!”

He stills.

Clay pulls slowly pulls out, his sheets now soaked in both of your juices and cum leaking out of your pussy.

He takes a couple of deep breaths then gets up, grabbing some paper towels “let me clean you up” he says softly and start wiping.

Once you’re both somewhat clean, he lies down next to you and pulls you close, “Thank you.” he murmurs against your neck, leaving a soft kiss on the back of it.

“For what?” you smile, amused and a bit confused.

“For agreeing to be mine.” he places another kiss to your neck then settles against the pillow, ready to fall asleep with you in his arms.

[aestariiwilderness]

Actually, misogyny is a feature, not a bug, of sinful human nature; Christianity was and has been the cure! I'm sorry you think otherwise, but it's pretty much guaranteed for someone to draw erroneous conclusions like this if you cherry-pick pieces of any text and ignore others, put them out of context, and then interpret them with no understanding of their original language, meaning, or cultural setting. For one thing, you're looking at this through a modern perspective -- a modern perspective which is, by the way, based on truly radical values that Christianity actually made the norm (equal rights, etc.). P.S. : (Women in Biblical times were just all stupid, I guess, for flocking en masse to a faith that oppressed them somehow even more than the oppressive cultures they were raised in? :D)

Just off the top of my head: 1. The husband is supposed to die for the wife, give himself (his desires, wants, life) for her, and love her (immediate context to some of those screenshots you sent). There's no room for abuse, neglect, or misogyny in a Christian marriage or a Christian's life, and a husband who does not provide for his family in every respect is considered to have denied the faith and become "worse than an unbeliever". In the case of an unbelieving husband (and, I believe, in the case of any spouse who has broken the covenant of marriage in any way, including abuse, adultery, neglect, etc.) the covenant is already broken, and the "brother or sister" is "under no bondage" in such cases. God loathes divorce -- it's unnatural and typically harmful to everyone involved -- but still in no way requires anyone, man or woman, to be trapped in an abusive home or to be prevented from remarrying. 2. "Submission" (interesting term in the original, you should look it up! :D) is only ever in the context of husbands and wives, not men and women in general. Role in a given setting (i.e., marriage and family) is not based on inherent value. A lieutenant is not inherently worth less as a person than a general is. It's just that their roles are different, and in times of crisis (which a family often has :D) there needs to be a clear chain of command, or there is confusion and the crisis worsens. In return for this command role, the husband takes all responsibility for everything that befalls his family, regardless of whether he took his wife's advice for a given decision or not. He is to blame for everything that happens in the household. Further sources below! 3. A woman is not permitted to exercise SPIRITUAL authority over a man -- i.e., be a pastor (teacher, in this context). This means nothing in terms of barring women from being close to God or even clearly surpassing men in spiritual and other areas. You may want to look into Deborah and Barak in the Old Testament and Anna the prophetess in the New Testament for examples of women in spiritual or divinely revelatory positions. Further sources below! 4. Legit God is saying that Eve isn't at fault for sin entering the world? The ultimate responsibility is always given to Adam, even though Eve ate first, and sin is described as thus descending through Adam. Eve was lied to -- but Adam knew the vibes were rancid and ate anyway.

5. "Helper fit" is probably better translated "helper equal to/comparable to him" -- i.e., another human. Notably, it was only after the fall wherein it became necessary, due to sinful human nature preventing harmony and agreement, to have a "casting vote" in a marriage. (Again -- all of this is in the context of a marriage, not among men and women in general.)

https://www.gotquestions.org/woman-helper-suitable.html https://www.gotquestions.org/desire-husband-rule.html 6. As for the rest -- God did not say rape was okay. Far from it -- rape actually brought a death penalty to the rapist in the Old Testament, which isn't something you get often even in modern times! What you're reading in those screenshots is actually a groundbreaking, unique (at the time) approach to crimes against women, marriage, and women's rights. It's just that we don't immediately have the cultural context for it, so you're missing some salient details -- as well as having some translation issues. See if these help you! I included other objections you might have as well. Some should also include references to the first five counters I made above, including verse references so you can check them out against the source yourself. Hope these help! Further Sources! :D https://www.gotquestions.org/misogyny-Bible.html https://www.gotquestions.org/men-women-equal.html https://www.gotquestions.org/Bible-rape.html https://www.gotquestions.org/gender-equality-inequality.html https://www.gotquestions.org/sexual-assault.html https://www.gotquestions.org/Deuteronomy-22-28-29-marry-rapist.html https://www.gotquestions.org/Bible-violence-against-women.html

https://www.gotquestions.org/spousal-rape.html https://www.gotquestions.org/submit-to-one-another.html https://www.gotquestions.org/Bible-submissive.html https://www.gotquestions.org/wives-submit.html https://www.gotquestions.org/Bible-sexism.html https://www.gotquestions.org/weaker-vessel.html https://www.gotquestions.org/because-of-the-angels.html https://www.gotquestions.org/polygamy.html https://www.gotquestions.org/God-Bible-sexist.html https://www.gotquestions.org/woman-helper-suitable.html https://www.gotquestions.org/desire-husband-rule.html https://www.gotquestions.org/womens-rights.html https://www.gotquestions.org/pain-in-childbirth.html https://www.gotquestions.org/women-silent-church.html Also: I'm confused as to why you would attack the foundational justification and basis for equal rights, the concept of right and wrong, etc. (the foundational justification and basis being the Bible, Judaism, and the Christian faith)? (Historically, this is true -- one only need look at the thousands of years of history where women were treated as second-class citizens at absolute best and then compare their meteoric rise in considered status with the advent of Christianity. I believe you can actually prove causation, not just correlation :D -- but regardless, that's not my point here.) "Equal rights and right/wrong aren't just Biblical concepts!" you might argue. I agree, society has had this pervasive idea of "right" and "wrong" (as well as a multitude of other abstract concepts such as justice, freedom, autonomy, love, evil, mercy, and more) from the beginning of recorded history. Which...doesn't make sense, from any naturalistic philosophy. Where in nature can you find "right" and "wrong"? Where in nature can you find "good" and "evil"? Where in nature can you find "fair" and "unfair"? Where in nature can you find "justice"? Where in nature can you find "gender equality" or "equal rights", or even "rights" at all? They don't exist in nature. There's no basis for them and certainly no justification for them in nature. A naturalistic philosophy (i.e., theory of evolution) cannot account for their existence, and it certainly cannot justify them. According to any naturalistic philosophy -- including evolution -- there's no reason why women shouldn't ALWAYS be treated as second-class citizens -- broodmares, sex slaves, used and abused, etc. Evolution (and other naturalistic philosophies) can only provide "might makes right" and "the survival of the fittest/strongest". There is no room in those philosophies for any kind of inherent human right, let alone gender equality. Most world religions also fail to provide justification and basis, although to a lesser degree. From what I've seen, they either don't provide a justification for these abstract concepts and "rights" or simply already establish women (and other disadvantaged groups) as second-class citizens by nature. The Bible, on the other hand, provides both justification, basis, and explanation for them. Attributes of a perfect Creator and an objective moral standard, expressed and built in to His creation; value and rights inherent to every human everywhere at every age. You can find verse references, again, below in the links. https://www.gotquestions.org/sanctity-of-life.html https://www.gotquestions.org/moral-argument.html https://www.gotquestions.org/moral-truth.html

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[emoprincey]

Every friend group has that one couple who had a fight and decided to make it everyone's problem. Sanders Sides has about eight of them

[the-physicality]

so i'm about to dive into college basketball in addition to pwhl in addition to wnbl [sydney only] in addition to nwsl playoffs bc my brain needs to be fed constantly

[whatsfourteenupto]

Important question does Neil Patrick Harris exist in the Doctor Who universe? Does the Doctor get a YouTube suggestion for an old musical one day and have a fuckin heart attack?

[total-mkulia]

please do u have any mkulia headcanons i am starving

Ah fuck, I’m typing this on my phone so forgive if formatting is weird

I don’t think MK doesn’t know how to flirt but I don’t think she’s tried before so she’s probably not the best at it. But also I don’t think Julia cares because she’s so head over heels.

MK helps Julia cyber bully people from her sock puppet accounts. They think up insults together.

I kinda alluded to this in the tags of an rb but I believe with my whole heart that MK can carry Julia.

Julia steals MK’s beanie sometimes, but, like, affectionately.

I imagine Julia to be very touchy and affectionate (like social girls in high school are) but like half of it is leftover from her influencer habits and the other half is intentional and flirty. Good luck figuring out which is which, MK

I can imagine Julia wearing MK’s jacket, like, once and neither of them recovering

Julia takes selfies of them all the time but MK doesn’t particularly like posing for photos so Julia’s stealth about it

They don’t let each other live S1 down. “You got me voted out” or “You outed me as mean to all my followers” gets brought up regularly

Admittedly, I think this one is a little cliche but I do think MK is the big spoon, if only because she insists on it

[front-facing-pokemon]

[65ths]

rule 1: don’t drink, rule 2: don’t take morphling, rule 3: never fall asleep in someones bed, rule 4: nothing matters if murphy is dead, rule 5: everything matters if mags is alive, rule 6: don’t disappoint mags, rule 7: don’t get attached to tributes, rule 8: don’t yell at wade, rule 9: don’t walk away from esmarie in the middle of an argument, rule 10: stop seeing esmarie for good, rule 11: don’t fall in love, rule 12: exercise every day, rule 13: don’t make promises, rule 14: don’t tell someone you’ve fallen in love, rule 15: don’t miss mentor viewing hours, rule 16: don’t kiss annie, rule 17: always come home

​the 17 rules that guide finnick’s life from the 67th - 71st games