#we need to make it make sense. you are my man but it needs to make sense

[pearlispunk]

How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. tags: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table. 

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house. 

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel. 

Joel. 

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better. 

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older. 

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn. 

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. 

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples. 

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else�� instead of checking out your dad’s friend. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly. 

Joel. 

Need you, Joel. 

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers. 

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel. 

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you. 

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin. 

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.  

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him. 

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot. 

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room. 

Was he..? 

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline. 

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?” 

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat. 

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed. 

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him. 

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in. 

“J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.” 

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits. 

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole. 

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him. 

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw. 

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release. 

And just then, he pulls out. 

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break. 

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips. 

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you. 

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours. 

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? 

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

[decrepit-in-the-dark]

My step-dad has had 2 strokes, and was previously suffering with alcoholism for years before going sober 7 years ago (go Dad! I'm so proud of you :)). He is currently going through severe mental decline due to that, and there are some points where he has trouble remembering extended relatives. Soon he will start to have trouble remembering who he is.

To watch this incredibly talented man, both musically and empathetically, start to lose his mind? It's devastating. He has been a light in the lives of everyone that he's met, and his doctors have given him about 5 years before he's on hospice or worse. You know who it's not devastating for? The health insurance company that we are under, and the hospitals that are collecting his money- they are in fact very happy that he is starting to need more treatments.

Not to mention the fact that he has been applying to disability for years, and still hasn't received anything in response. He isn't able to work outside of the house. And these tests that he is receiving, over and over again? Our insurance refuses to cover them, because apparently he doesn't "need" them. A man who is going through mental decline, who has had 2 strokes, who is a recovering alcoholic of almost 10 years, "does not need" the tests he needs to find out how we can at least help him.

Don't treat the United States healthcare system like they care about us, because they don't. We are viewed as cash cows. The fact that people are begging to die so that they will not become a burden financially is bullshit, and it makes sense, because dying is so expensive these days. Not for them, but for their loved ones. We are nothing but money in the system's eyes. Fuck our individualistic culture. Deny, defend, depose.

[gerlionrise]

A Game Within the Game P3

Hwang In-ho (player 001) x reader Synopsis: In-ho heals your wound, tells the truth, and tries to make you completely his own. This is part 3. Part 2 is here.

You woke up in a bed. It was soft, far too soft, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. The room was dimly lit, a warm glow from a single bedside lamp casting long shadows across the luxurious furniture. The sheets were crisp and expensive, the kind you’d only ever seen in catalogues or movies. Your body ached—sharp pain lancing through your side as you tried to sit up. You froze, memories flooding back. The games. The chaos. The sound of the gunshot.

Your breath quickened as panic clawed at your throat. This wasn’t the dorm, wasn’t the arena, and certainly wasn’t anywhere you recognized. Where were you? Were you dead? 

The door creaked open. 

You turned sharply, your muscles protesting the sudden movement. There he was—001. But he looked different. This man stood tall, composed, and sharp, dressed in simple black sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt that highlighted a lean strength you hadn’t noticed before. His face was calm, but his eyes… they were heavier now, like they carried the weight of a thousand secrets. 

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice gentle but unsettlingly firm. He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“What is this? Where am I?” Your voice came out shaky, trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“You won,” he replied, walking closer.

His words landed like a punch to the gut. You blinked, your mind scrambling to piece everything together. “What do you mean I won? What happened? Where—where is everyone else?”

“They’re gone,” he said simply, standing at the foot of the bed now. “It’s over. The games are finished.”

Your stomach twisted. “The last thing I remember—there was a mistake. I made a mistake. I should be dead.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “No,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up fully now, ignoring the sharp protest of your body. “You’re not making any sense.”

He sighed, his calm demeanor slipping for just a moment. He looked almost… tired. “I need you to know something,” he said, more to himself than to you. 

“I need to know what?” Your voice rose, cracking with desperation. 

He hesitated, just for a moment, before meeting your gaze head-on. “My name is Hwang In-ho,” he said, his tone steady. “I’m not just Player 001. I’m the Frontman, the Host of these games, of all of this,” he said pointing his finger around, hinting that we were still in the territory where the games take place.

The words didn’t register at first. They hung in the air, heavy and incomprehensible. “What?” you whispered, shaking your head. “What are you talking about? Are you joking with me?”

“I’m not,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve been the host of these games for years. I was there before you ever signed up.” 

Your blood ran cold. “This is mad,” you said, your voice trembling. “No, that’s not possible. You were with us. You were in the games. You—”

“I joined the games for you after the first game,” he interrupted, his tone sharp now, cutting through your denial. “You were the reason I entered.”

The room spun around you. “You’re lying,” you said again, but the conviction in your voice was gone. 

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I made sure you survived. Every step of the way, I was there. Guiding you. Protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” you repeated, your voice rising in disbelief. “You killed people! You let them die!”

“It’s my job.” His voice was cold now, his eyes narrowing. “Just like yours was to play the games.” The anger burned through your veins, hot and undeniable. You forced yourself to your feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in your side. Before he could react, you raised your hand and slapped him, hard. The sharp sound echoed through the room, and for a brief moment, his head tilted slightly to the side, his cheek reddening. 

Hwang In-ho didn’t retaliate. He didn’t flinch. He only sighed, meeting your gaze with calm, unshaken patience. 

“You’re a murderer, a fucking psychopath” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“I didn’t use you,” he replied evenly, his tone quiet but firm. “You chose this.”

“Chose this?” You laughed bitterly, gesturing wildly at the room, at him. “I didn’t choose to trust a monster! I trusted you. I cried into your shoulder, told you how scared I was, and you—” Your voice cracked as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill. “You were the reason for it all.”

“I won’t apologize,” he said, his voice unwavering. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you hissed, stepping back as though the distance could somehow dull the betrayal you felt. 

“I understand why you’re angry,” he said, his posture as calm as always, “And I expected this. I knew you wouldn’t take the truth easily, but I didn’t want to hurt you. That was never my intention.”

“Then what was your intention, In-ho?” you demanded. “Why let me go through all of this? I saw good people, people I liked, get killed!”

“To keep you alive,” he said simply. “To make sure you won.”

You shook your head, disbelief twisting in your chest. “And what now? What happens now? I'm sure I'm here for a reason right now, am I?”

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “I want you to do more than just take your winnings. I want you to stay here.”

You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. “What?” 

“I want you to become a co-host of these games” he said, his tone steady. “To work with me. To help run the games.”

Your stomach churned. “You want me to help you kill people?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped even closer, his expression unreadable. “You’ve seen it for yourself,” he said cupping your cheek with his hand. “How people turn on each other. How they’re willing to destroy one another for money. You’ve seen how disgusting humanity can be. You’ve felt it.”

You opened your mouth to argue but faltered. His words hit a nerve. The memories of what you’d witnessed—of the desperation, the betrayal, the violence—flashed in your mind, unbidden. 

“I’m not like you,” you said quietly, moving away from him.

 “No,” his gaze steady. “No, you’re not,” he left something unsaid.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered. 

“But you stayed. You fought. And now, you’ve won.”

You stared at him, your anger faltering as his words sank in. 

“You don’t have to decide now,” he said after a moment, his tone softening again. “You’re hurt. You need time to recover. And while you’re here, you’ll have plenty of time to think. You’ll see for yourself that there’s nothing for you out there.”

“There’s no point in going back?” you said bitterly, repeating his words.

“You know it’s true,” he replied. “You told me that yourself one night — you had nothing. No one. That’s why you joined the games in the first place. Out of boredom, out of hopelessness.” 

You flinched, the truth of his words hitting harder than you wanted to admit. 

“Stay,” he said softly, stepping closer yet again. “Stay, and I’ll show you that you don’t need to go back. You have everything you need here.”

Tears stung your eyes as the weight of his words crushed down on you. “Why?” you choked out. “Why would you do this? Why would you let me go through all of that? Why did you let me live?”

His expression softening. “You remind me of someone,” he said quietly.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. "You’re delusional if you think I’m that person." 

He didn’t say anything to this. 

Finally, you mustered the strength to ask the question that had been burning in your mind. “Why did the guard shоot me? You said you were protecting me. Then why did it happen?”

His expression hardened for a brief moment, but then he sighed. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “It’s been handled. Now rest,” he turned around to leave the room

You stared at him leaving, a storm of emotions swirling inside you. The room was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid.

—

For the next two days, you didn’t see Hwang In-ho at all. The only people you encountered were the silent guards in their oppressive pink uniforms, coming in at scheduled intervals to check on your recovery or patch you up when necessary. Each time they entered the room, you felt a wave of panic, memories of the last game rushing back—how one of them had pointed a gun at you and shot. 

You tried asking them questions, trying to understand what their purpose was, why they were here, and how they could participate in something so monstrous. But their silence was infuriating. They didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge your words. It was as though you were speaking to statues. 

In the meantime, you explored the space where you were being kept. It looked like an apartment, sprawling yet suffocating, with no windows. The walls were sleek and minimalist, the furnishings modern and expensive. It felt more like a gilded cage than a refuge.

Every day, fresh clothes were brought to you. You could tell they were expensive, tailored to your size and style, but you didn’t care for most of them. You stuck to a simple outfit: black shorts that hugged your legs comfortably and a matching black V-neck top. It was practical and unassuming, the only semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

You asked the guards repeatedly where In-ho was. “Where is your host? Where is he hiding?” you’d say. The only response you got was the vague assurance that he had “things to do.”  

“Things to do? For days?” you muttered angrily, frustrated by their cryptic responses and his absence. You couldn’t understand why he would leave you alone here.

---

On the third day after you had been shot, you found yourself in the kitchen. It was like the rest of the apartment—sleek black counters, matte surfaces, and every kind of appliance imaginable. You busied yourself by rummaging through the cabinets, not because you were hungry, but because it gave you something to do. 

Then, the door opened, and In-ho walked in. 

He was dressed casually, in black slacks and a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His presence filled the room instantly, his calm yet commanding energy unsettling you. He glanced at you briefly before walking to the counter. 

“Where have you been?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended. 

“I was finishing up the games,” he replied without emotion, opening the refrigerator to pull out a bottle.

“Getting rid of the bodies?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he busied himself preparing a drink, the soft clink of ice breaking the tension in the air. You could feel his quiet disapproval of your tone, but it only fueled your frustration. 

You hopped onto the countertop, as you watched him. If he wanted to act nonchalant, you would make it harder for him. 

“How did you become the host?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do you enjoy this? Watching people die for your amusement?” 

His answers were dry, measured. “I have my reasons,” he said simply. “It’s necessary.”

“So, what do you do when you're not running murder games? Read? Knit? Take long walks around your crime scenes?" 

"I manage... everything. It’s not all death and drama, you know."

"Oh, sure. Just a side hustle of ruining lives." 

He smiled a little and glanced at you, “You’re quite good at sarcasm." 

You didn't answer him and continued your interrogation. "Why black? Is it just your vibe, or are you secretly colorblind?"

"Black is practical. It hides blood,” he replied by taking the ice out of the mold.

"Romantic. You ever think of wearing pink? Really lean into the theme here."

Now he chuckled, “I think I’ll leave pink to the guards."

Finally you asked, “When can I go home?” 

He glanced up at you briefly before returning to his drink. “When you’re ready.”

"What do you even want from me? Besides… whatever this ‘partner’ thing is."

His gaze flickered to you again, lingering this time. You noticed the way his eyes traveled down, taking in your posture, the curve of your body in the simple outfit you had chosen. There was something unreadable in his expression—calculated, yet almost… appreciative. 

"I want you to see what I see. To understand why I did this."

Then, he moved toward you, closing the space between you both in a few deliberate steps. 

You blinked in confusion as he stopped directly in front of you, standing between your legs. Even like this, with you perched on the counter, he was taller. His presence was overwhelming, his proximity setting your nerves on edge. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice faltering slightly.

He reached past you, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he opened the cupboard behind you. “I need a glass,” he said smoothly, his voice low.

You leaned forward instinctively so he could open the cabinet behind you. For a brief moment, you were pressed closer to him, your breath catching as you realized how little distance was left between you. 

He stepped back after retrieving the glass, returning to his drink as if nothing had happened. You watched him carefully, your heart still racing. There was something about the way he moved, so deliberate and composed, that both irritated and intrigued you. 

When he finally finished, he turned back to you. “Have you decided?” he asked.

“Decided what?”

“Whether you’ll stay with me. Whether you’ll join me.”

Your laugh was bitter, humorless. “You already know my answer. I’ll not join you. And as soon as I can, I’m going home.”

Something flickered across his face—disappointment, perhaps, but it was gone too quickly to read. He nodded once, setting his drink down on the counter. 

Then, before you could react, he came up to you again and placed his hands on your waist, lifting you off the counter with surprising ease. You tensed, ready to protest, but his grip was steady, grounding. 

“I want to show you something,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle and his dark eyes catching yours. You tried not to stare, tried not to acknowledge how ridiculously good he looked in his perfectly tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms.  

You hesitated. There was no reason to trust him, no reason to believe this wasn’t another one of his manipulations. But there was something in his tone, something that made you curious despite yourself. 

“Fine,” you said finally, your voice laced with defiance. “But this better not be another one of your twisted games.”

He smirked faintly, a shadow of amusement crossing his face. “I think you’ll want to see this.” But before leaving he asked, “How’s your wound?” voice low, steady, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity.  

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, a little too quickly. “Why do you care?”  

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he replied simply, his words cutting through the air. 

You shrugged, trying to seem unaffected, but your body betrayed you. The memory of that gunshot, the panic, the pain—it all came rushing back in flashes. “I said it’s fine.”  

He didn’t believe you. His gaze dropped to your side, where the faint outline of the bandage peeked out from beneath your fitted black top. Without asking, he reached out, his fingers brushing just above the wound, careful but deliberate.  

You flinched, not from pain but from the sheer heat of his touch. It wasn’t fair—how could someone so infuriating have hands that felt this warm, this careful?  

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, his lips quirking into the faintest hint of a smirk.  

“Yeah, well, you’re a terrible human being,” you shot back.

With that, he guided you toward the door, his hand resting lightly on your back as you walked. For better or worse, you were about to find out what he had planned.

PART 4 is posted

tag list: @carrotjuicepdf @wwastro @lucinda-reads @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @kripr2 @raideyo @kushnovice @ft-winnow @grliealibi @r3va-dwme @fantasylovestoryme Want to get tagged in the next part? Drop a comment.

[beuxwhoyouare]

DILF Next Door

There's no better way to say this. The daddy next door is so fucking hot. I'm too chicken to ever muster up the courage to go next door and introduce myself. Every weekend, he graces me from my bedroom window with a view of him mowing the lawn shirtless.

It's a sight to behold and I wish I could just lick his salty sweat off him until he was clean. He deserves to be worshiped. The man is built like a GOD. I fell into the fantasy thinking about what his musk must smell like. My own hormones nearly fueling me to say fuck it and get semi-dressed to finally do it. I was gonna introduce myself no matter what....but fate had other plans. I was finishing getting ready when I felt something wet fall on me. I played it off but that was my fatal mistake. I was finishing brushing my teeth when all of a sudden my hand stopped mid-back and forth motioning.

My body began moving and inspecting itself as if it was foreign but I was no longer in control. Then a voice began speaking out loud.

"Hello earthling. My identifier is XE-039. I had overtaken command of your vessel and will now deploy you to my former sluglien vessel."

"Wait what do you mean?"

"This vessel is now under my control and we will spread our influence across this planet."

"Wait I can help you."

Panic overtook my common sense. How was I supposed to help when I couldn't even help myself?

"Can you aid in attaining vessels? That is the only objective we need assistance with?"

"Sure! Uh just describe to me how you take them over and we can go from there."

"We slugliens are gel based life forms that invade a species through an orifice and then put their essence in our old one before destroying them as we overtake their species."

"Perfect we earthlings love putting things in orifices. It's called being horny. Look I can show you if you take me next door. If you're going to put me in your old vessel I can try it out and show you how easy it can be."

"Hmmmmmm affirmative. Let's try this out. If you fail, you will perish."

The sluglien clunkily guided my body through the house as we arrived next door. He knocked the door and after a few minutes he arrived. Coated in light dusting of body hair and sweat, Scott answered the door in all his DILF-y glory. I tried to give the alien an express lesson on being flirty and asking to make out but before I could finish Scott began speaking.

"Hey dude, what's going on?"

"I uh, what are you doing at this point in time?"

"Well right now I'm talking to you but I just finished mowing the lawn but I was going to take a show-"

"Let's partake in the making out ceremony."

Before I could interject or Scott could even deny the advances, the sluglien placed my whole mouth over Scott's. The second he opened his mouth to protest, I knew it was my time. I used my new slug-like form to slide into Scott's mouth. Everything went dark and before I knew it my clenched closed eyes opened to see my former mouth on me.

"Dude that's so not right get off me."

I felt a knot in my new toned stomach and coughed up what must be the sluglien body. It was grey and reminiscent of other fluids humans make. It looked panicked and tried to run away but my former body quickly moved to squish it. When it lifted my shoe, the sluglien no longer moved.....did he just kill Scott?!

"That was very efficient. So we just do that until we take over this planet?"

"Well you can but there's definitely a more pleasurable way to do this."

"What is pleasure?"

Similar to the haste he just attacked Scott with. I pulled him inside the house and sat down at a chair from a nearby table. I guided him over and told him to begin feeling my up and down. I knew even if he didn't understand pleasure, my former body would get immediately horned up doing the one thing I always wanted to....worship Scott.

Curiosity clearly got the best of the sluglien in command of my body as his curiosity led him to quickly guide my hands further and further down my new strong torso. He inquisitively felt my warm tanned skin slightly exposed between my shorts and slinkily thin shirt. Excitedly yanking the shirt up.

One hand held the thin shirt up while the other rubbed over my furry torso. Slowly getting me riled up as I felt my new meat growing way thicker than mine ever did. Eventually he lifted the shirt off me and I let it happen.

The sluglien was braver than I ever was. Boldly rubbing his hand down my meaty slabs of pecs and rushing under my waistband eager to expose myself to both of us for the first time.

Eventually the sluglien stopped to my surprise. What was he doing? I never really noticed but I guess I was somewhat conventionally attractive. Watching my former body saunter in front of me was so sexy. I wanted to get up and make out but he pushed me back into the seat and began poking and prodding before immediately pulling my daddy meat out and sticking a finger in my mouth.

I had it. I whipped my former hand out of my mouth and guided the sluglien to the bedroom. Stripping of his clothes one piece at a time. Eventually I pushed him to lie down on the bed. Flexing for good measure as I picked up his legs.

My body always wanted this and I never believed I’d be the one to fulfill the dream in this position. I put my new meaty arms down and started stroking my thick rod. This was it as I felt it pulsing and hardening. I told the sluglien to breathe in and prepare for pleasure. I tried to go slow but I got too excited. Once I got close to entering pleasure hit me quickly. My former body began to wince from the pain I’m sure this tool was inflicting on it.

Soon those groans turned to moans. I was gonna make him have the best night he’d ever have. I’ve had fantasies about this and I was gonna make every single one come true…literally.

[cherryxbooo]

I've got you ... always

Summary: Working as a Mercedes engineer has always been challenging, but with men constantly looking down on you, it becomes unbearable. Lewis is quick to put a stop to it, and fight for justice.

Note: First of all, I want to thank all of you for the love you've shown me so far. I really appreciate it! 🤍 The reason I chose this storyline is to address the issue of sexism and misogyny in workplaces. Unfortunately, this still happens far too often, and with this fic, I hope to bring much-needed attention to this subject. Just know you're not alone 🫶

Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Warning: misogyny and sexism

It had been nearly six years since I first joined Mercedes as an engineer.

Six years of intense work, late nights, early mornings, and a relentless pursuit of perfection in the world of Formula 1.

It was my dream job, one I had worked tirelessly to achieve.

But those six years also marked the time I’d spent with Lewis, six years of love, laughter, and challenges with the man who had become my everything.

I could still remember the day we met as if it were yesterday.

A bit of backstory:

I was the newest member of the Mercedes team, fresh out of a competitive hiring process, and I was determined to make an impression.

The first time I stepped into the paddock, I felt like an imposter among the sea of seasoned professionals.

My hands clutched my tablet like a lifeline as I walked into a strategy meeting, trying to suppress the nervous flutter in my chest.

Lewis was already there, sitting at the far end of the room. He looked relaxed, dressed casually in his signature streetwear style, yet exuding an unmistakable aura of confidence.

As I took a seat near the back, his eyes flicked toward me.

I was sure he wouldn’t even notice me, why would he?

I was just another new face among dozens of team members.

But then, he smiled.

It wasn’t one of those polite, obligatory smiles.

It was warm and genuine, as if he could sense my nerves and wanted to reassure me.

That smile was like a silent message:

You belong here.

Over the next few weeks, our paths crossed more frequently.

At first, it was just in passing, a quick hello in the garage, a casual “How’s it going?” during lunch breaks.

But it didn’t take long for us to start talking. Really talking.

It was during a particularly chaotic race weekend in Silverstone that our friendship began to solidify.

A last-minute weather change had thrown everyone into a frenzy, and I found myself staying late in the garage to run some last-minute simulations.

The paddock was nearly empty when Lewis walked in, still in his racing suit, and caught me muttering to myself as I tried to make sense of the data.

“Long night?” he asked, leaning against the workbench with a lopsided grin.

“You have no idea,” I replied with a tired laugh, glancing up from my screen.

He stayed and talked with me for over an hour, even offering a few insights that helped me crack the issue I was stuck on.

By the time he left, I realized that the nervousness I’d felt around him was gone.

He wasn’t just Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion.

He was kind, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.

From that moment on, our friendship grew effortlessly.

Whether it was over post-race debriefs, team dinners, or stolen moments between the chaos of race weekends, we found ourselves drawn to each other.

We bonded over a shared love for what we did, but also over our differences, his world of high-speed fame and my quieter, behind-the-scenes role.

It wasn’t long before I realized my feelings for him had shifted.

I hadn’t planned on falling for him, but Lewis had a way of breaking down walls without even trying.

He made me laugh when I was stressed, listened intently when I rambled about work, and made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

One evening, after a long day at the factory, he invited me out for dinner.

It wasn’t anything fancy, just a cozy little restaurant tucked away.

Over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, we talked about everything from our childhoods to our dreams for the future.

By the end of the night, when he walked me to my car, he hesitated for just a moment before leaning in to kiss me.

That was the beginning of us.

For a long time, we kept our relationship private. We both wanted to protect what we had, to keep it ours without the scrutiny of the public eye.

But as the months turned into years, it became harder to hide.

Fans started noticing the subtle signs, the way Lewis would glance at me during interviews, or how I always seemed to be nearby during race weekends.

When we finally decided to go public, it wasn’t a grand announcement or a carefully curated statement.

It was a simple photo posted on Lewis’s Instagram.

We were in Monaco, sitting on a terrace overlooking the harbor, the golden light of sunset washing over us.

I didn’t even know he’d taken the picture until he showed it to me later that night.

“Should I post it?” he asked, his voice tentative.

I hesitated, thinking of the attention it would bring, but then I looked at him, at the way his eyes softened as he waited for my answer.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

The response back then was overwhelming.

Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, and the media couldn’t stop speculating about us.

But through it all, Lewis and I stayed grounded, reminding each other that our relationship wasn’t for anyone else.

It was for us.

One of the things that made our relationship so strong was our ability to communicate.

From the very beginning, we had promised to tell each other everything, our fears, our frustrations, our dreams.

No topic was off-limits.

Whether it was a rough qualifying session for him or a challenging project for me, we leaned on each other without hesitation.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

Lately, I hadn’t been able to keep my promise to Lewis, to tell him everything, to lean on him like I always had.

The reason? Mark, Alan, and Greg.

They were three senior engineers on the team, men who had been with Mercedes long before I joined.

Older, more experienced, and as I had quickly discovered, painfully set in their ways.

From the very beginning, they had made it clear that they didn’t think I belonged.

I still remember the first time I overheard them.

It was during my second week on the job, and I was running a simulation late at night.

They didn’t realize I was in the corner of the garage, headphones off, sorting through notes.

“Hiring for diversity quotas,” Mark had muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, they want to tick a box, so they bring in the fresh-faced rookie,” Alan had added with a chuckle.

Greg, ever the opportunist, chimed in,

“Let’s see how long she lasts when the pressure’s on.”

"She's better off making us a sandwich."

Their words had stung, sharp and bitter, but I had swallowed my pride.

I told myself that proving them wrong would be the best revenge.

I worked harder than I ever had in my life, triple-checking my calculations, volunteering for extra tasks, staying long hours to ensure that my work was flawless.

And for a while, I thought it had paid off.

At first, the snide remarks tapered off.

They didn’t engage with me much, but at least they stopped openly questioning my abilities.

I had even started to think that maybe, just maybe, I had earned their respect.

But lately, the comments had returned, and they were worse than ever.

It started subtly, dismissive sighs during meetings when I spoke, or whispered conversations that stopped the moment I entered the room.

Childish right?

Then the snark escalated, cutting through my carefully built confidence like a knife.

“Did you even double-check this?”

Alan had sneered last week after a team briefing, gesturing at the simulation results I’d spent days perfecting.

Greg, never one to miss a chance to pile on, smirked as he added,

“Leave the big decisions to people who actually know what they’re doing.”

Then Mark's voice was heard,

"Yeah, go do the laundry or something, whatever you women are good in."

It was always wrapped in the guise of banter, thinly veiled behind forced smiles and casual tones.

But I wasn’t naïve.

There was a sharpness to their words, a deliberate attempt to undermine me that cut deeper each time.

Even Mark, the one who usually played the “neutral” party, had started joining in.

During a debrief on a race strategy I’d helped design, he had scoffed and muttered,

“Well, I guess every team needs its token young genius.”

It was relentless.

Every day, there was something, a comment, a glance, a dismissive laugh that made my blood boil.

But I kept it all to myself.

I told myself that it wasn’t worth causing a scene, especially now.

Lewis had enough on his plate.

His move to Ferrari had been the talk of the motorsport world, and while he was excited for the new challenge, the transition was anything but easy.

here were endless negotiations, media commitments, and the emotional weight of leaving the team that had been his family for over a decade.

I couldn’t bring this to him, not now.

Not when he was already stretched thin.

So, I stayed quiet.

I bit my tongue when Alan questioned my calculations, ignored Greg’s condescending remarks, and pretended not to hear Mark’s muttered jokes.

Each time, I told myself it was just words, that I could handle it.

But deep down, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could.

Lewis was busy.

I kept telling myself that over and over, like a mantra.

Between announcing his move to Ferrari, dealing with the media frenzy, juggling sponsorship demands, and the seemingly endless meetings, he had so much on his plate.

The last thing he needed was me adding my problems to the mix.

But today was different.

The garage was buzzing with activity as we prepped for the upcoming race weekend.

The sound of drills, clinking tools, and the hum of engines filled the air, a symphony of chaos I had grown to love over the years.

I was stationed at my usual spot, hunched over a set of data sheets, meticulously double-checking the aerodynamics report for any inconsistencies.

I was deep in concentration, my pen scratching against the paper, when their voices drifted over.

Mark’s gruff tone was unmistakable.

“What’s the point of her even being here? Probably just a pretty face for the team photos.”

I froze, my hand pausing mid-note.

My heart sank, but I willed myself to stay calm, telling myself to ignore it like always.

Alan, never one to pass up an opportunity, snorted.

“Yeah, but even that’s debatable.”

Their laughter was casual, almost conversational, but the sting of their words hit me like a whip.

Then Greg joined in, his tone dripping with mockery.

“She’s only here because she’s shagging the driver or maybe even the boss. Imagine thinking she got this job on her own merit.”

Mark laughed before adding,

"Maybe we can all ask her for a turn as well, if it's that easy to shag the boss, we might have a chance too."

"At the end of the day, that's all they're good at. Women don't belong in the motorsport world."

The room was filled with their laughter.

That was it.

My pen slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the table as my hands began to shake.

I stared at the numbers on the page, but they were a blur, overshadowed by the burning heat of humiliation rising in my chest.

For years, I had endured their passive-aggressive comments, their dismissive attitudes, their constant undermining of my capabilities.

I had told myself it didn’t matter, that their opinions didn’t define me.

But hearing them reduce everything I had worked for, the late nights, the sweat, the tears, the sacrifices, to nothing more than being Lewis Hamilton’s girlfriend?

It was too much.

I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to hold it together.

But their laughter, light and cruel, echoed in my ears, shredding the last of my composure.

I pushed back my chair abruptly, the screech of metal against the concrete floor silencing the room for a brief moment.

My vision blurred with unshed tears as I grabbed my tablet and notes, clutching them to my chest like armor.

I didn’t dare look at them, I couldn’t.

My breath hitched, and my chest felt tight, like the walls were closing in.

I needed to get out. Now.

Without a word, I turned and stormed out of the garage, my footsteps heavy and uneven.

I didn’t care where I was going; I just needed space, air, something to stop the lump in my throat from turning into a sob.

As I walked away, their laughter faded into the background, but the words lingered, etched into my mind like a scar.

I didn’t know where I was going.

My feet carried me blindly, weaving through the maze of garages and team trailers until I found myself at the paddock’s edge.

It was quieter here, away from the relentless hum of activity, the chatter of crew members, and the ever-present cameras.

I sank onto a bench beneath the shade of a tree, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

Burying my face in my hands, I let out a shaky sigh.

My mind replayed their words like a broken record, each snide comment cutting deeper than the last.

"What’s the point of her being here?"

"Probably just a pretty face for the team photos."

"She’s only here because she’s shagging the driver."

The worst part was that they’d managed to plant a seed of doubt.

I had worked so hard to get here, put in countless hours, and sacrificed so much to prove myself in this male-dominated field.

And yet, in this moment, I felt like a fraud, like I didn’t belong.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Lewis’s voice cut through the fog in my mind.

I looked up sharply, my breath catching when I saw him standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed in concern.

He must have followed me.

My stomach twisted in a mix of guilt and relief.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this, vulnerable, crumbling under the weight of my emotions.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked, stepping closer and crouching down in front of me.

His warm, dark eyes searched mine, his hands gently resting on my knees.

The concern etched into his face made my heart ache.

“Nothing,” I lied, quickly wiping at my face.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, his expression soft but skeptical.

“Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

I hesitated, my resolve cracking under his steady gaze.

His presence was grounding, but I didn’t want to pull him into my mess.

“It’s nothing, really,” I tried again, forcing a weak smile.

“I just… I’m tired.”

“Y/n.”

His voice was low and firm, but there was a tenderness to it that made my throat tighten.

“Please. Talk to me.”

That was all it took.

The dam broke, and the words spilled out in a rush.

I told him everything, the comments, the dismissive attitudes, the years of enduring their quiet but cutting condescension.

My voice wavered as I explained how it had worsened recently, how their snide remarks had crossed the line into outright insults.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been under so much pressure with everything, Ferrari, the media, the season. I didn’t want to be another problem for you to deal with.”

Lewis listened intently, his face unreadable as I spoke.

But the slight tightening of his jaw and the way his hands gripped mine told me he was anything but indifferent.

When I finished, there was a long silence.

I stared down at my hands, afraid to meet his eyes.

“They’ve been doing this for years?”

he finally asked, his voice low and tightly controlled.

I nodded, biting my lip. “It wasn’t always this bad, but yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to your stress,” I said softly.

“You’ve been dealing with so much already.”

Lewis let out a slow, measured breath, his grip on my hands tightening.

“Y/n, nothing, and I mean nothing, is more important to me than you.”

His voice softened, but there was a fierce protectiveness beneath his words.

“You should’ve told me. They don’t get to treat you like this. Ever. No woman deserves this kind of treatment.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Lewis was already standing.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, his expression dark with determination.

“Lewis, what are you doing?” I asked, standing as well.

He glanced at me, his jaw set.

“I’m making sure this doesn’t happen again.”

I reached out, touching his arm.

“Lewis, please—”

“Y/n.” He turned to face me fully, his eyes locking onto mine.

“You’ve put up with this for far too long. I’m not letting it slide, and neither should you. This is your workplace, your passion. You shouldn’t have to deal with people who try to tear you down.”

His words hit me hard, a mix of anger and love wrapped in every syllable.

I nodded slowly, my throat tight with emotion.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening as he pulled me into a hug.

His arms wrapped around me tightly, and for a moment, I let myself melt into his warmth.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “Always.”

By mid-afternoon, the entire paddock was filled with noice.

Meetings with Toto were rarely casual, and the tension in the air was palpable.

I stayed out of sight, nerves twisting in my stomach.

When Lewis had assured me earlier that he wouldn’t let this go, I’d believed him.

But seeing the immediate repercussions unfold was a different kind of catharsis.

The walk to Toto’s office felt longer than it should have, every step heavy with anticipation.

Lewis had his hand firmly on the small of my back, guiding me through the bustling paddock.

His touch was grounding, but my nerves still prickled under my skin.

“Relax,” he said softly, leaning closer.

“We’re handling this together.”

I nodded, though my stomach was a tangled mess of knots.

The last thing I wanted was to cause drama, but after years of enduring Mark, Alan, and Greg’s behavior, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

When we arrived at Toto’s office, Lewis didn’t bother knocking lightly.

He rapped his knuckles on the door with purpose.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice from inside.

Toto was seated behind his desk, a stack of papers neatly arranged to one side.

His brows lifted in mild surprise when he saw the two of us enter together, but he quickly gestured for us to take a seat.

“This seems serious,” Toto remarked, his sharp eyes flicking between us.

"What’s going on?”

Lewis glanced at me, silently asking if I wanted to start.

I hesitated, my fingers twisting in my lap.

Noticing my reluctance, Lewis leaned forward.

“It’s about some of the team dynamics,” he began, his voice calm but tinged with an unmistakable edge.

“Specifically, the way Mark, Alan, and Greg have been treating Y/n.”

Toto’s expression shifted, his posture straightening.

“Go on.”

I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak.

“For years now, they’ve made comments, snide remarks about my qualifications, my presence here. It started when I joined, but I brushed it off because I was new, and I thought I had to prove myself. But lately…”

My voice wavered, and I swallowed hard to steady it.

“Lately, it’s escalated. They’ve been openly dismissive of my work, undermining me during meetings, and even questioning my position on the team. Today, they went too far.”

Toto’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“What happened today?”

Lewis’s hand found mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze as I recounted the incident.

“They implied I’m only here because I’m dating Lewis and that I used my body to get my position,”

I said quietly, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

“And that I didn’t earn my role.”

Toto exhaled sharply, his expression darkening.

“That’s not all,” Lewis added, his tone hardening.

“This has been going on for years, Toto. Years. Y/n didn’t tell me sooner because she didn’t want to cause problems, but that’s no excuse. Those three have created a toxic environment, and it stops now.”

Toto’s gaze shifted to me, his stern demeanor softening slightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier, Y/L/N? This isn’t the kind of behavior we tolerate here.”

I shrugged, feeling small under his scrutiny.

“I didn’t want to be seen as a troublemaker. They’ve been here longer than I have, and I didn’t think anyone would take my word over theirs. Plus, I didn’t want to add more stress to an already intense environment.”

Toto shook his head, his voice firm but understanding.

“You should never have to tolerate that. Not here, not anywhere. The Mercedes team prides itself on being a family. What you’ve described is unacceptable, and I take full responsibility for not noticing it sooner.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, his jaw still tight.

“What’s the plan, Toto? Because I’m not letting this slide.”

Toto nodded, already making notes on a pad in front of him.

“First, I’ll be speaking to Mark, Alan, and Greg individually. They’ll be given the chance to explain themselves, not that there’s much room for justification here. If their behavior aligns with what you’ve described, they won’t be part of this team by the end of the day.”

A weight lifted off my chest at his words, but the tension in the room remained palpable.

“I want to be there,” Lewis said firmly.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

“Lewis—”

“No,” Lewis interrupted.

“This is personal. They didn’t just disrespect Y/n, they disrespected the team, the values we stand for, and me by extension. I need to make it clear that this behavior won’t be tolerated. From anyone.”

Toto regarded him for a moment before nodding.

“Fine. But let me handle the disciplinary side. You can say your piece, but I’ll deliver the consequences.”

Lewis nodded, satisfied.

“That works for me.”

Toto turned back to me, his expression softening once more.

“Y/n, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this. If there’s anything else you need, support, time off, anything, let me know. I’ll make sure you feel safe and valued here.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.

Lewis stood, pulling me up with him.

“We appreciate it, Toto. Let us know when the meeting is.”

“You’ll hear from me shortly,”

Toto promised, standing to shake Lewis’s hand before giving me a reassuring nod.

As we left the office, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone in this fight.

Lewis wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked down the corridor.

“We’ve got this,” he said softly, his voice full of conviction.

I leaned into him, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, we do.”

Toto wasn’t one to waste time.

Within the hour, Mark, Alan, and Greg were called into his office one by one.

The first to arrive was Mark.

When he stepped in, he wore his usual smug expression, likely thinking this was just another routine meeting.

But Toto’s steely gaze and the presence of Lewis, standing tall with his arms crossed by the window, quickly shattered that notion.

“Have a seat, Mark,”

Toto said curtly, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

Mark sat, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced between Toto and Lewis.

“What’s this about?”

Toto wasted no time.

“It’s about your behavior toward Y/L/N,” he said, his voice sharp and unwavering.

“I’ve been informed of your repeated condescension, disrespect, and comments that have no place in this team, or any professional setting.”

Mark blinked, caught off guard.

“What? That’s not true. I—”

“Don’t bother lying,” Lewis cut in, his voice cold and firm.

He stepped closer, his dark eyes fixed on Mark.

“We’ve both heard enough from Y/n and other team members. You’ve been targeting her for years, haven’t you? Questioning her qualifications, making snide remarks about her role here, and today, outright implying she only got her position because of me.”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“I… Look, it was just banter. No harm meant.”

“Banter?” Toto echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“You call undermining one of the most talented engineers on this team banter? You call questioning her abilities and belittling her contributions banter?”

Mark leaned forward, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Toto, I didn’t mean anything by it! I was just—”

“Enough,” Toto interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

“I won’t tolerate excuses. You’ve created a hostile environment for one of your colleagues, and that is unacceptable. You’ve not only disrespected Y/L/N but also the principles this team stands for. I don’t care how long you’ve been here, Mark. Your behavior is grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Mark paled, his smugness vanishing entirely.

“Dismissal? Wait, Toto, please. I’ve been with this team for years. You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will,” Toto said, his voice resolute.

“Pack your things. Security will escort you out by the end of the day.”

Mark turned to Lewis, desperation in his eyes.

“Lewis, you can’t agree with this. We’re teammates, for God’s sake!”

Lewis’s expression didn’t waver.

“You stopped being my teammate the moment you disrespected Y/n. Pack your things, Mark.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped, and he left the office in silence.

Next was Alan.

He walked in with a similar air of confidence, though it quickly dissipated when he noticed the tense atmosphere.

“Toto,” Alan began, sitting down and glancing uneasily at Lewis.

“What’s going on?”

Toto leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk.

“What’s going on, Alan, is that your behavior toward Y/L/N has come to light. Years of dismissive comments, snide remarks, and today, a blatant attack on her credibility. Care to explain yourself?”

Alan frowned, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, I might’ve been a little hard on her, but it’s nothing personal. She’s young and still learning. I thought she could use a bit of tough love.”

Lewis scoffed from his spot by the window.

“Tough love? Is that what you call undermining her at every turn and insulting her in front of the team?”

Alan shifted uncomfortably.

“She’s good at her job, I’ll give her that. But come on, Lewis, you can’t deny people have wondered if her connection to you played a part in her being hired. It’s not like I said anything everyone wasn’t already thinking.”

Lewis took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides.

“The only reason anyone would think that is because people like you spread that garbage around."

"Y/n earned her place on this team through her hard work and talent, not because of me."

We didn't even know each other when she joined. And even if, she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, the way you’ve treated her is disgusting.”

Toto’s expression darkened further.

“Alan, you’ve been with Mercedes long enough to know we value respect and inclusivity above all else. What you’ve done isn’t just a breach of trust, it’s a breach of the very foundation of this team. Your actions have consequences. You’re fired, effective immediately.”

Alan stood abruptly, his face red with anger.

“You’re seriously going to throw away years of experience over a few jokes?”

“Yes,” Toto said bluntly.

“And I suggest you leave now before you embarrass yourself further.”

Alan glared at both of them before storming out, muttering under his breath.

Finally, it was Greg’s turn.

Unlike the others, Greg walked in looking visibly nervous.

He barely met Toto’s eyes as he sat down, fidgeting with his hands.

“Greg,” Toto began, his voice steady but firm.

“You know why you’re here.”

Greg nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I figured.”

“Then you know the kind of behavior we’re addressing,” Toto continued.

“You’ve contributed to a toxic work environment for Y/L/N and others. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Greg hesitated, glancing at Lewis, who was staring at him with barely concealed anger.

“I—I don’t have an excuse. I guess… I thought it was harmless, but it clearly wasn’t. I crossed a line, and I’m sorry.”

Toto’s brow furrowed.

“You thought it was harmless? You’ve made Y/n feel unwelcome and disrespected in her own workplace. That’s not harmless, it’s damaging. Apologizing now doesn’t erase what you’ve done.”

“I know,” Greg said quickly, his voice trembling.

“I know I messed up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“It’s too late for that,” Lewis interjected, his voice low but full of authority.

“You had years to change your behavior, and you didn’t. You don’t get to stay on this team after what you’ve done.”

Toto nodded in agreement.

“Greg, I appreciate that you’re taking responsibility, but the damage has been done. You’re no longer part of this team. Security will escort you out shortly.”

Greg’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded, standing to leave.

“My deepest apologies,” he said quietly before walking out.

By the end of the day, the three men were gone, and the Mercedes team felt lighter.

Word of the firings spread quickly, and several team members quietly expressed their relief and support for you.

Back in the garage, Lewis pulled me into a quiet corner.

“It’s done,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nodded, a weight lifting off my chest.

“Thank you, Lew. For standing by me.”

“Always sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“No one messes with my girl.”

To all the women facing sexism at work, school, home or online: You are strong, capable, and deserving of respect. Don’t let anyone diminish your worth. Your voice matters, and you are making a difference just by being you. Keep pushing forward.

The end

[notashadowbutawave]

finally talked my wife into watching 8x06 "confessions" with me and WOW there's quite a lot going on in this breakup scene in buck's apartment (and the infamous glee scene for that matter) that I haven't seen discussed much on this website (though maybe I'm just not finding it?) like this show is always yelling the themes in your face but...

first of all I think it's somewhat intentional that Buck is being written as kind of regressing. So far in the show, he's gotten his confidence in romantic relationships by fulfilling the role with the person that he thinks he should fulfill. with Abby, Buck had just learned about serious adult romantic relationships and how they work and was trying to Be A Partner in a complete speed run. But he learned that no amount of devotion is a substitute for functionality. with Taylor, he was trying to Be A Functional Partner - and he learned that being a partner Has To involve trust, and that trust comes from somewhere else other than just our actions - it has to come from our hearts.

Tommy is the first person he's ever dated where he doesn't know what the next steps are and that's because this isn't something he has a blueprint for - being a Partner and a Functional Partner for somebody who sees right through him and sees exactly what he's trying to do, to make Tommy never leave. Abby was completely clueless (sorry I really dislike Abby) and Taylor didn't realize that an adult man could behave so badly without utter malice in his heart. Both of them kind of make the mistake of being vulnerable to Buck's charms.

Tommy is of course vulnerable to Buck's charms but Buck is more transparently himself with Tommy as well - and what Tommy sees, then, is a person who is deeply insecure and may be trending in the right direction but ultimately still thinks there's a lever he can pull to make Tommy stay and never leave him. He doesn't know that he's not done cooking yet because every new thing he learns about the world or others makes him feel brand fucking new.

So yes, the glee scene:

Josh was absolutely gagged that Tommy was Abby's ex fiance

Buck's first instinct is to see the situation from Abby's side and go into protective mode which is adorably loyal to be fair but also like ; get a grip

I actually love Josh's framing of "you care about this person and if you want a future in a queer relationship you need to learn that we don't all come to this the same way"

Did they need a cultural reference? No. Were they going to self referentially congratulate Ryan Murphy for inflicting it on the world? Yes.

And regarding the breakup itself:

What is wrong with this fandom's sense of humor that I haven't seen a gif of "I'm the himbo" ??? Like yes babe u sure are come here

Buck is really working so hard in this scene to make sure Tommy knows that he's serious. He's like... this freaked me out but I've decided I'm cool with it. She changed my life but not like you !!!

Like bless his heart, Buck thought he was really doing the right thing by telling Tommy about Abby BEFORE ASKING HIM TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. like MY CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE??? SEE??? LOVE ME FOREVER !! it's adorable and it's also cringe as fuck.

I think the real sin of the writing here is making Buck so completely clueless that this is the wrong move. Like he's kind of an idiot (Eddie Diaz's words not mine) but moving in with someone after dating them for six months in your 30s is WILD behavior and I don't think even Evan Buckley would fail to realize that this is a bit much in this moment.

But idk being in love makes one do stupid things? I did all of my messy bitch relationship shit before I turned 30 but I guess it is buck we are talking about

I completely understand why Tommy reacts the way he does in this scene and bless Lou Ferrigno Jr for acting it with such nuance, much more depth than the scene frankly deserves. What a heartbreaker. Like you see him tense up at Buck's request

"I'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you." such an insane thing to say to your boyfriend. Whoever approved this script was trying to take me out like with a gun.

You then see the absolute grief in Tommy's eyes like oh god this kid is killing me. He's so sweet. He's so cute. He doesn't get it. I love him. He doesn't get it.

As an aside, Eddie being stalked in the juice bar by the hot priest was absolutely incredible.

I didn't hate this episode but wow the writing does suck shit, however I fully believe it makes sense for them to break up here and get back together in the future ??? because Buck DOES have some shit to figure out. Like moving in with someone is a lot of fucking intimacy REALLY fast and baby boy sometimes you NEED to pump the brakes a little ESPECIALLY when you think someone might be THE ONE and you just figured out you like guys six months ago.

I get it and yeah the writing is tragic and the inclusion of Abby in general is just unhinged and unnecessary but like I don't hate the broad strokes here. how else does the blorbo learn if not by ritual torture by the writers. Lou is too good to not have back though. My god what a treasure.

end bucktommy endgame truther transmission

[grimesbunny]

earn your spot

rick grimes

cw mean rick (?) face fcking. dirty talk / dumbification

summary: you get turned on by rick scolding you and make it up to him with mindblowing sloppy. i hate writing bjs #menshouldneverfeelpleasure but it’s rick. sooo like.

you always feared for the day you’d be on the receiving end of rick’s rage, much less his disappointment. but you should’ve realized you were setting yourself up by being on your best behavior since the group rescued you. gunning for the loyalest soldier category set expectations a smidge too high, made your mistake seem all the more dire. you can’t remember what exactly you did — veering off of rick’s plan slightly on your last run in with walkers because you assumed your role couldn’t be that important — but you jeopardized the safety of the group and that’s all that matters. it’s hard to recall all the tiny details when you have a man scolding you about the principle.

it’s not like you haven’t seen him angry before, quite the opposite— you’ve witnessed a height of his rage once and it’s stuck with you ever since. rick’s the type of person you don’t want to upset, and not just because you’re intimidated, but because he has a sense of honor about him that makes you admire him. makes you want to please him and be labeled good in his book.

you knew you were fucked after being shooed away by him like an insistent fly while on the run. exiled to wait in the car on “lookout.” the ride back to the prison is eerily silent, and your muscles ache with how tense they are by the time he finally unloads. he has the decency to pull you to the side, away from watchful eyes, but his voice carries.

it’s a chastising. there’s no other word for it. the tears that sting the corners of your eyes are to be expected— you could never handle being reprimanded very well— it’s the heat gathering in your core that comes as a shock. rick’s dirty and disheveled from the run, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead while his eyes bore into yours. seemingly looking past your pout and glistening stare.

“are you questioning my judgment, kid?”

you can’t tell what’s meant to be rhetorical or not at this point, but you shake your head anyway, a nervous laugh pushing from your wobbly lips. “of- of course not.”

“then help me understand.” he says, almost defeatedly. he’s got you caged in at this point, unconsciously backing you further into the grimey prison wall. “i laid out the instructions clear and simple for you, did i not?”

with you being new, and rick being pulled in three different directions every five seconds, it’s not often that you have his full attention like you do now. never for this long, especially. it’s pathetic, but you don’t know what to do with it. you shrink in on yourself, thighs clenching together while your face grows warmer and warmer.

“i thought you were smarter than this. if you can’t handle a run, i think we need to rethink your role here.”

“no!” you exclaim. flashbacks to being all alone out there for so long ring through your mind. “i can handle it, rick. i’m sorry, i fucked up, i wasn’t thinking.”

“i don’t think you fully grasp that when we’re out there— it’s life and death. there’s no room for you to turn your brain off.” he lightly taps the side of your head for emphasis, and you involuntarily lean into the contact. it makes his eyes go curious, brows caving in just slightly. “it’s us or them. i can’t have another threat— another liability out there. or you may as well join ‘em.”

his words pierce you in the stomach like a knife. the whirlwind of conflicting emotions is making your head spin, and you reach for his arm for stability without thinking. “rick… i understand. i promise you, i do. i won’t disobey you again.”

his gaze slowly drops and lands on the contact in what feels like several heavy seconds. you’re frozen in place, unsure of whether to let go or not. the muscle of his arm relaxes when he meets your eyes again.

“i’m… disappointed. i’m trying to do right by you, but i need you to show me that you want to be here.” the way his voice has dropped an octave is distracting, and you feel the words as much as you hear them. feel them as a tingle up your spine, a pulsing that blossoms in between your thighs.

if you allowed yourself, you might wonder if he was talking about the run anymore.

“i do.” you nod. feeling emboldened, you squeeze his arm, eyes widening up at him intently. “how can i prove it to you?”

his eyes darken, and a smug sense of pride swells in you at the way his mouth drops open but no words come out. his eyes do a quick sweep of the area the two of you are in. empty cell block. secluded. alone.

“what are you asking for?” he tilts his head, almost challenging. “do you even know yourself?”

a lapse of confidence suddenly makes you hesitate. before you go to apologize and maybe run out of the room, rick speaks again.

“yeah, you know good and well, don’t you?” he whispers it like a thought between the two of you. “christ, i’m tryin’ to talk some sense into you and you’re lookin’ at me like…” he trails off, eyes dipping down to your lips. and then he laughs, turns his face and shakes his head.

“like— like what?” you feign innocence. pulling as he’s pushing.

he takes a step closer you didn’t know was possible, and you can feel the ghost of his weight against yours.

he seems to consider his next words. “do you know how distracting it is to have to watch you blink at me like that whenever i speak, like i’m some kind’a god? watch you fein for my attention, knowing i’d be the bad guy if i gave it to you how i want to?”

you’re too stunned to speak. from where you stand, any sudden movements and he might back away, might talk himself out of whatever it is that the two of you are building up to.

“you like it, don’t you? teasing me until i snap. i bet…” he sucks in a breath, and you hold yours in anticipation. the hand of the arm you’re holding tentatively comes to rest on your hip. “if i were to reach my hand down you’d be soaked through these tiny shorts.”

you gulp down all the saliva that has collected in your throat. your heart is thumping so hard you feel like he can hear it as you take it upon yourself. guiding his hand where you want it the most, where you’ve dreamt of it several times. his fingers slide against your clothed lips, and sure enough, you can feel the dampness accumulating.

“fuck.” he breathes out. his resolve seemed to crumble, head dipping as his free hand goes to pin you against the wall. “get this wet whenever i talk to you? hm?”

you nod quickly. might as well not hold anything back, now that you’re finally in the position you’ve been craving since you laid eyes on him.

“cmon, what’s got you all quiet now, honey? i thought you could handle it?” his fingers have gone greedy, attempting to circle your clit through your clothing. the friction feels like heaven, and you can’t stop yourself from bucking into his hand. “i thought you wanted to prove it to me?”

“fuck, yeah. i want to.” all you can seem to do is nod, desperate with it. your eyes dart to the tent in his jeans. it looks so hefty, thick and bulging. you’ve never wanted to see anything more in your life. “i want to make it up to you, rick. earn… earn back my spot here. just tell me what to do.”

“yeah?” he dips his head lower to force eye contact with you again. you take your hand and gingerly glide your fingers along the outline of him pressed against his jeans, bottom lip catching between your teeth. he doesn’t move, keen on letting you feel for yourself. “well… i‘m not sure if you can take it.”

the faux sympathy in his voice almost makes you whimper. “i can, i promise. please.”

he reached down to undo his gun holster and it’s all you need to hear to drop to your knees, forcing back a wince at the impact from the cold floor. he leaves it to you to unzip his pants.

“look at me.” he orders, the authority in his tone gives you no choice but to oblige instantly. he’s larger than life above you, and somehow a much hotter view from below. it spurs you on, makes you more eager to free his cock from its confines.

you pull his pants down just enough to watch it spring out. nothing could’ve prepared you for it; long and thick and meaty, already leaking from the swollen, red tip. the sight makes you audibly whine, much to rick’s amusement.

“never seen a cock before, sweetheart?”

“never this big.” you admit, squirming to get some friction on your cunt. that draws a noise out of him, and you watch his cock twitch with it.

you grasp it hesitantly, looking up at him to check for his reaction. it’s been a long time since you’ve done any of this, and it’s not like you had much experience in the first place. you don’t want to disappoint him.

under the weight of his gaze, you reach out to place a kiss to his tip, letting his precum ooze onto your lips. his hips buck forward slightly into your mouth.

“christ, aren’t you pretty like this?” he sighs.

you feel yourself blush, kitten licking his tip to hide your smile as you gaze up at him. his eyes are lidded, his patience showing on his face. finally, you wrap your lips around his spongy head, suckling gently.

“alright, none of that. you don’t get to tease anymore.” he soothes your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using it as leverage to begin moving your head at the pace he wants. he stuffs your throat all too quickly, your gags and moans muffled by the girth of him filling your mouth. it’s too much and not enough at once, and for the second time today you feel yourself about to cry. “just fuckin’ take it.”

it’s messy and suffocating, but you can’t think of any place you’d rather be than on your knees for him, letting him use your mouth to get off.

“your throat — feels so perfect, baby. about time i put this pretty mouth to good use, huh?” he chuckles breathlessly. you grasp his strong thighs for purchase, willing him to slow down. “i should’ve known this is what it would take to get you to listen. you just needed your fill, didn’t you?”

you nod as best as you can, eyes wide up at him. merciful, he pulls you off to let you breathe, watching a line of spit follow your lips. his dick is covered in it, glistening and raw. you splutter, and somewhere down the line the tears you felt had started flowing freely down your cheeks.

“rick,” your voice cracks pitifully. “it hurts.”

“i know, but you can take it, remember? you’re a big girl.” he places a hand sweetly on your jaw, rubbing his tip against your spit-soaked lips. “gotta be good at something if you want to stay here.”

the throbbing of your knees is overpowered by the ache in your cunt. you can’t believe the predicament you’ve found yourself in.

“you don’t have to think anymore, sweetheart. not good at that today anyway, hm? just relax your jaw and let me in.” he coaxes, pushing past your lips. you do as he says, letting your jaw go lax and his lips stretch into a mean grin. “there you go.”

all it takes is a few more thrusts of his hips. the sight of you with tears streaming down your face, squirming all over your heel for friction on your clit. the feeling of your warm throat constricting around him. he pulls out abruptly, and you watch intently as he rapidly fists his cock.

“here it comes, baby.”

he’s aiming for your face, but you stick your tongue out, desperate to take catch some of his seed on your tongue. his orgasm is ripped out of him, shooting off thick ropes that never seem to end.

you swallow it happily, yet somehow your smile is still bashful afterward.

he’s panting, shaking his head. “what am i going to do with you?”

[arc-misadventures]

Hmm... Let's link this to the, Blood Mage story.

///

Dr. Arcula

Jaune: Okay... this finishes my report on coffee consumption, and it's effects on blood vessels. Gods, Ozpin... You've totally fucked up your blood with all that caffeine you've had, that I got to right a medical report on it...

Jaune: ...?

Jaune: Come on out, Team RWBY... I know you're there.

Yang: What?!

Blake: How did you know?

Jaune: Haa... I can sense people by 'feeling' their blood. Ruby, and Weiss may be the same height, but I can tell them apart because of all the blood in, Ruby's veins. I'd tell you to cut back, but your semblance burns off to man calories...

Weiss: I'm just short to you...?

Ruby: I don't have that much sugar!

Jaune: I can tell it was, Blake because the blood in a faunas flows differently in then in humans, and I an feel the blood in her ears. Cat faunas I assume?

Blake: You know?!

Weiss: You're a faunas?!

Yang: Show me the cat ears...

Jaune: And, I can tell it's, Yang because I can feel all the blood in her chest.

Yang: You can feel my boobs~?

Jaune: Don't think of that as sexual; I can feel men's junk just as much as your chest. It's not a pleasant feeling.

Yang: Ohhh...

Blake: That doesn't sound pleasant...

Jaune: Okay... unlike most of the time you've come here, I can tell you're hurt... that being said: Yang, why is your hand broken...?

Yang: I uhhh... I punched concreate block...

Jaune: How many did you punch?

Yang: Just one.

Jaune: One? I've seen you be punched through a wall before, and shrug it off. How did you break your hand by punching on concreate block?

Yang: I was angry...

Jaune: At a concreate block?

Yang: Yeah...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay, give me your hand...

Yang: Oh, are you going to give me a kiss to make me...?!

(Crack! Cer-rack! Ca-Crack!)

Jaune: There fixed it. Feeling better?

Yang: Y-Yes...?! T-Thank you sir...?!

Jaune: Good. Next!

Ruby: I scrapped my knee.

Jaune: Trip on your feet, again.

Ruby: Yes...

Jaune: Okay, bloody, but not bad... Give me a moment.

(Squish, clissh, blegsh.)

Jaune: There we go all better. You feeling better, Ruby?

Ruby: Y-Y-Yes... all better, Sir...

Jaune: Okay. Next!

Blake: I got a papercut.

Jaune: Wash your hands, and apply disinfectant. you should be healed in two to three days, if it gets worse come, and see me. Next!

Blake: Dammit...

Weiss: ...

Jaune: What's wrong, Weiss?

Weiss: I.. I want a hug...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay.. come here.

Weiss: Yessss!

Jaune: There, there... feeling better>

Weiss: Much!

Jaune: Good girl, here have a lollipop.

Weiss: Oh, cherry!

Ruby: I want a lollipop...

Jaune: Alright, is that all, or...?! Oh gods what happened...?

Yang: What? Nothing...?

Weiss: We didn't do...?!

Velvet: Dr. Arc! Coco cut off a guys hand for dissing her shirt! We need you to reattach it!

Jaune: Haa... The fuck is wrong with the people here...?

[genderqueerdykes]

Bouncing off of that Anon that was like "my abuser was a trans man, so I hate all trans men"

I'm a trans man. I was sexually harassed and assaulted by a trans fem for three years. Am I phobic to trans fems/women?

Fuck no!!!

I've also been abused and assaulted by cis men and women of all sorts of sexualities

Am I phobic to them and who they are?

Once more: Fuck no!!!

An abuser is an abuser, yes, but their gender/sex/sexuality/etc isn't the reason they are an abuser. It's their mentality, for lack of better words

As for less reporting on trans men and assault, I also feel that it's particularly caused by toxic masculinity (mixed with the seen as cis women thing)

It's like a fucked up cycle of "I can't say this, I'm 'supposed to be a man'", and "you're a woman, suck an egg" (if my wording makes sense)

Hell, when I told my abusers' parents, I was told I was "too smart of a girl to have this happen"

HUH???

Being hurt by one/a few isn't a reason to hate all and be phobic or hateful. If that was the case, why aren't there people who hate everyone who dared to have a kid, good or bad? Or people who hate every single math or history teacher in the world?

i'm sorry you've been through this, but i appreciate you sharing your experience with this. you deserve to be heard

i have also been abused at the hands of trans women and transfemmes and yet i don't hate either of those identities at all. i dislike the actions of individual people who are assholes. that's a very reasonable thing to do. saying that all trans women and transfemmes are abusive assholes and that it's okay to hate them would be career ending. you'd get chased off of every platform under the sun.

why's it okay to do that to trans men?

As for less reporting on trans men and assault, I also feel that it's particularly caused by toxic masculinity (mixed with the seen as cis women thing) It's like a fucked up cycle of "I can't say this, I'm 'supposed to be a man'", and "you're a woman, suck an egg" (if my wording makes sense) Hell, when I told my abusers' parents, I was told I was "too smart of a girl to have this happen"

it blows my mind when people think that just because there are not great police statistics (where'd your ACAB go...?) on violence against transmasculine people that means it just doesn't happen at all. literally where'd your ACAB go? that's an appeal to authority. you are appealing to the cops. you are, suddenly, for some reason, flipflopping and seeing them as a trustworthy resource. this is a double standard. this is shifting the goalposts

trans mascs and men are almost always reported on as women if the crimes we face are reported on. most of the time it's not worth going through the trouble to report it because nothing will ever be done about it. you need a lot of evidence in order to convict someone of a crime like that and more often than not people will try their hardest to discredit whatever evidence the trans man/masc does have because they are being viewed as a cis woman, and thus, incompetent. most people who face violence never report the crime. you can't suddenly treat police data like it's the end all be all of lived experiences

other people will assert that these things can't happen to trans men because they can't happen to men at all, which is a perfect shining example of radfem logic at its finest. there's no other way to say it. men can be hurt and abused. women can be abusive and dangerous. this is not new. silencing trans men who have suffered violence for the sake of talking about yourself isn't helping people understand you better

so many trans men deal with homelessness/housing insecurity, poverty, physical and sexual assault, murder, abuse of all kinds especially mental and emotional, being objectified and forcefully viewed as women, corrective rape, sex trafficking, job insecurity, disability, neurodivergence, mental illness, substance abuse, incarceration, and so many other problems. all trans people face these problems in distinct ways. but they affect us all. we can't silence one part of this conversation for no reason other than to be petty and bitter.

i'm sorry you've had all these experiences, but thank you for sharing. the only way we can help people understand is if we talk about it in earnest. no more hiding. this has gotten more than out of control

[koishua]

ㅤ      ㅤ   𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀yarenim evde (my darling is home).ㅤ ওㅤ

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀hwang hyunjin fluff fem reader .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀1.121k words no warnings enjoy .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀he comes home after gda2025! .ㅤ ও

Stepping into the confines of the familiar apartment’s front doors, he waits for the elevator to arrive from the topmost floor. The quiet bell alerts him to its arrival, ready to whisk him away to the place he calls home. The characteristic music assigned to elevators is absent. Small blessings, since his entire day had been about blaring speakers and blinding lights. Some quiet time was much needed to ease his desperate ear drums and nothing can stand between him and the soft touches of his favourite person alive (there are quite a few people he would commit near war crimes to meet, but we do not verge there).

When you open the door just as he is about to reach for his spare keys, the warmth of a home lived-in and loved greets him like an embrace, your arms pulling him in gently through the door and taking his coat before he reaches to undo his shoes. The world seems to tilt at its axis without warning and he has to rush to put a hand on the floor for balance, struck by an unforgiving moment of exhaustion now that he’s finally reached his safest space. 

“Woah,” you reach for the slumped over man by the shoe racks, soft hands gripping his assuredly, bringing him over to the sofa– thank God– closeby, “don’t worry. You aren’t dying, loverboy.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the teasing remark, content at finally catching the faint scent of your perfume clinging onto your clothes from earlier that morning. Lying down, he’s finally able to come back to his senses, making out a buzzing sound of what he assumes to be the coffee you loved to literal death. He has to fulfill his boyfriend duties and worry about your health, so he peeks over the back of the couch to reprimand, “You shouldn’t be drinking that at this time of the night.”

“Right, because you always listen to me when I tell you to rest. I’ll drink this, thank you.” You have to roll your eyes at his offended expression, though none taken. Offering him a mug of his favourite calming tea, you sit on the carpet by his side, coffee and tea resting on the small table until they cool down just enough to drink without scalding your tongues.

Hyunjin traces over the valleys of your face, flicking the bridge of your nose with a laugh from where he’s lying on his side, facing your direction like the sunflower to your sun. Your elbow rests on the cushion, supporting your cheek. The makeup his stylists had applied on him for their award show performance tonight looked impeccable, still, despite how worn his body felt. You admired the eyeshadow framing his brown eyes– so warm, so full of adoration, practically dripping with overflowing honey. 

“You did good,” your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw, “I was watching you and my friends kept gushing about you.” Your beloved’s face gleams with mirthful eyes, amused by the fact that none of your friends knew who your long-time boyfriend seemed to be, still. You were always the first one to tease them for being such big fans, devilishly keeping the tiny little secret that their favourite member has been in love with you for years now and you couldn’t imagine a life without him henceforth. 

The day he’d facetimed you sporting his brand new hair, you’d shrieked, dropping your phone in the process. He’d grown worried, wondering if you’d hated it, but you simply demanded he come home as soon as he possibly could. Why, he’d questioned, not that he’d ever refuse, and when you dropped the “We’re going to have so much fun.” bomb on him, he’d left his belongings on the spot, damn near hopping and skipping his way over.

Now, he is sliding down the cushion to huddle into your side. Warm tea in his hand, an arm slung comfortably around his sun’s shoulder to bring her closer without a single worry of being taken over by your scorching heat. Welcoming the destruction as much as the creation of everything beautiful in this world (his world, because so long as he has you, Hwang Hyunjin is a King and the whole world is his– you are).

Your fingers absentmindedly play with the hand over your shoulder he has graced you with, sipping on your caffeine concoction. “Congratulations on your Bonsang. You guys deserve it so much with how hard you work and deliver. Tell the boys that I’m so happy for them, too.” 

Light reaches his eyes when his lips pull apart into a wide smile, still exhilarated by the prospect of having won. “Thank you, my boss lady.” He presses a chaste kiss on your temple, getting a waft of your shampoo he’s used on more than a handful of occasions, later on finding one of his own in the shower. Now, everything here seemed to be for two, hints of love scattered all around in every insignificant corner of the house. 

“Shut up,” you giggle at the name he’d designated for you a long while ago, “I should be called Lady Overlord at this point.”

There is a certain pitch he laughs at like a cute little chime and you’re lucky enough to hear it on the regular. “People think I’m talking about my CEO whenever I tell them that boss is calling. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.”

Finding moments of silence as comfortable as this is hard for someone constantly surrounded by loud friends and loud music so Hyunjin knows to cherish it until it eventually ends. For now, he succumbs to the ache in his bones and lays his head on your lap, spine finally decompressing all of the pressure it has withstood the whole award season preparation period, followed up by rigorous performances. Tingles run down until they reach his fingertips from the way you oh, so deliciously run your nails on his scalp, smoothing over his short hair, the texture so satisfying to play with that you can never seem to get enough of it.

You know the effect it has on him as he’s often fallen asleep to you playing with his hair, short and long. He still has to take off his stage makeup and shower off the sweat and debris, but you allow him this brief moment of rest. That can wait another fifteen minutes, showing some much needed love and affection cannot. You can see his lashes fluttering closed despite trying his damndest to keep them open (he needs to keep them open, damn it, you wouldn’t understand. Breathing is a sin unless it’s your scent, sight a sin unless it’s to look into your eyes. You don’t understand, his planet orbits around your sun. Without you pulling him in, he is but a rogue, lost in the dark and cold space, wandering without aim).

“Relax, I’ll wake you up soon.” You shush him, swiping your palm over his eyes like a gentle feather. Hyunjin takes your word for it, drifting into a saccharine sweet sleep, lulled to sleep by your silent hum, the dishwasher’s rumble falling even further into the distant scapes of his mind.

© KOISHUA 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[b-skarsgard]

https://parade.com/movies/bill-skarsgard-nosferatu-interview-exclusive

Skarsgård's vampiric transformation does make him virtually unrecognizable. Combining full-body prosthetics and elaborate costumes, the actor built the character with Eggers over a 10-year period, even working with an operatic vocal coach on a completely new voice. If you're able to spot Skarsgård in the film, hats off to you.

Of course crafting a new version of Dracula/Orlok was certainly a momentous task. Skarsgård's been told there were already over "170 different adaptations" of the character prior to his own. He's humbly giving much of the credit for his own transformation to Eggers' screenplay, though.

full article at the link and under the cut

"I read Robert's Nosferatu script almost 10 years ago, and it hasn't changed all that much in those 10 years," he says. "So the version of Dracula was already different on the page."

Step one in the transformation was the voice. "I was really enamored by Orlok's language," Skarsgård says of Eggers' script. "He's technically speaking German in the movie, but it's English. I think he's learned German just from reading all of these texts and old books. It's this awkwardly constructed English that came out of that."

Orlok's voice was especially important in this film as the character spends much of the film hiding in the shadows to keep his true form hidden from Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult). "The movie monster tends to not have much dialogue, but in this case he has a lot," Skarsgård reflects. "So the voice became my way of expressing the character."

The deep gravely voice in the film was the product of acclaimed Icelandic opera singer Ásgerður Júníusdóttir. "We explored the voice together, but also the technicality of using your entire body when you speak and placing the voice as low as you can in your body," Skarsgård says. "It's a new world for me, and I love voice work. I was just absorbing all of these tools that I'm going to use as my career progresses."

Layered on top of the vocal work were Linda Muir's costumes, what Skarsgård describes as "historically accurate costumes that a 16th-century Hungarian nobleman would have worn. They're the clothes he would have worn when he was a man."

While Focus Features is keeping Orlok's appearance under wraps for as long as possible, you can see the massive fur coat Skarsgård donned in the shadowy poster.

"I knew the shadow was going to be an ally for Orlok, especially in the scenes with Thomas, where he's hiding his appearance," he says. "So he lives in the shadow, and he uses his big fur cape and the hat to not give away what he is. The shadow became a friend."

Perhaps the most impressive element of Skarsgård's transformation, however, was David White's prosthetic makeup, which took hours to apply each day, was difficult to act through and painful to wear. When I ask if he was able to cheat on days he was in the shadows, Skarsgård says no with one exception: "Every single shadow in this movie is also me puppeteering behind camera. That was the only time where I didn't need to have the full regalia on.

"The full prosthetics would take six hours to apply. "It's just uncomfortable," Skarsgård says of having to sit in the chair that long. "And any sense of privacy goes out the window. You become very close with the team that's applying this makeup. They're really getting up in there with a brush in your ass crack. They become your little safe space."

And the six-hour application process was just the beginning of what could be long, physical days on set. The film's final moments involve a sex scene between Orlok and Lily-Rose Depp's Ellen Hutter, which Skarsgård performed in head-to-toe prosthetics.

"I don't know her perspective on, 'I'm going to kiss this monster,'" Skarsgård says about his (fully clothed? skinned? suited?) sex scene, "But for me, when we shot, I was Orlok, and I really, really, really wanted to devour her."

If performing a sex scene in a hot latex bodysuit sounds miserable, that's because it was. "The actual final moment of Orlok was incredibly physically exhausting because there was a lot of technical camera work," Skarsgård says. "What's in the movie, I had to do that 30 times." If you've seen the film, you'll know how truly arduous that experience must have been.

The most difficult day on set for Skarsgård, however, involved a sequence filmed on a boat during Orlok's transfer from his castle in Transylvania to the German harbor he plans to terrorize next. In one scene that involved "pretty tricky advanced camera work," a seaman descends into the hull of the ship to "rid the boat of this demon." As the camera follows the sailor, Skarsgård's Orlok is initially seen behind the man in the shadows.

"Then I have to exit frame, run around and enter my position for when the jump scare pans down to the rats and then pans up and I'm standing there," Skarsgård remembers. "So it's very physical, but I was covered head to toe, except for my eyeballs and the soles of my feet. Even my palms and my hands are covered. That was a 12-hour day."

With that many prosthetics on, there's nowhere for all that sweat to go. "It doesn't breathe, and I don't think it's healthy," Skarsgård confides. "Your body's probably absorbing all those f--king toxins and glue and sh--, plastic and latex and whatever."

During the 12 hours running around the hull of a ship, Skarsgård remembers thinking, "I don't know what's happening, but my body is not doing well."

"You know the skin is your biggest organ right," he says. "So it needs to breathe. I got flashbacks from that urban legend about the woman in Goldfinger being covered in gold and actually dying. I'm like, 'Okay, this is how I go.'"

Obviously, Skarsgård did not die of heat exhaustion in a latex Dracula suit like that one cameraman in the 2022 film Babylon.

"At that point I told them—because it was a long day and I was waiting around—'We need to open it up so my body can breathe,' and then they found the pockets where I could open up and my body started to breathe."

Skarsgård compares the agony of the shoot with what he thinks childbirth would feel like. "They're not on the same level, of course. I've seen childbirth, but it's as close as I can get to giving birth as a man, as these f--king monsters I'm portraying," he says.

When I ask him if there were any other iconic monsters on his bucket list, he says he's done for now. "To play Orlok in Robert Eggers' Nosferatu is the holy grail," he says. "It's kind of the peak and, in a way, the nail in the coffin."

[miwiheroes]

Hey! Miwiheroes

I saw you succesfully converting a mileven into a byler, and can you do the same to me plz? I don't like mileven community, they often are really close minded and I don't wanna be a part of it anymore. I open the debate and please try to justify this things that make me believe in mileven endgame:

1- Mike has insecurities since s1 about feeling needed and having somebody to lean on, I do believe Mike's family lacks love and is cold, and maybe that is why he has those insecurities. Where am I going with this? Well, when El disappeared, Mike got super upset and, in my opinion, he overprotected Will so he could FEEL like somebody needed him, I think Finn and the Duffers mention it in an interview a while ago. So maybe that is the cause he couldn't say "I love you" to Eleven, he even says it, he believes she will leave him eventually, like everybody does. That is probs the cause he is obsessed with El in s3, because he really loves her and is too scared of losing her.

I just can't see why byler is supposed to be the endgame. I think in s5 Mike will motivate El to fight and they eventually will come together at the end, having their happy ending.

+ Maybe he was sad in the snowball because he thought El would just leave him there

Those insecurities are not healthy for a relationship, but they show he really loves her

I would love to see this things from a byler perspective if you can

Tyyy

Hiya!! Glad you came to me it's such an honour tbh

Yes, Mike definitely has insecurities surrounding being needed. The thing is: character arcs being set up in season 4 suggest that El no longer needs him/ should no longer need love from a man who treats her badly, makes her feel insecure. The change from the beginning of season 4 to the end clearly shows this:

El thinks she needs Mike's love to know that she is not a monster.

El goes to the lab and figures out by herself without Mike's love that she is not a monster.

Mike says 'I love you' to her. He calls her a 'superhero'. It does not work and does not save Hawkins because she no longer needs that.

They are not on the best terms afterwards because El has a very different perspective on things.

So now we've established that it's pretty clear that she no longer needs him. I think she's realised by the end, that their relationship won't work. This is why they won't be endgame for me, it makes no sense for her storyline in S5 to be Mike 'motivating her'.

She does not need a man to motivate her, cmon. Come on now. A point in season 4's lab storyline is that she can do all this shit by herself, drawing on her mother's love. She was able to gain back her powers through love, but at that point she had no clue Mike loved her or not. And yet she still got them back. She did not need Papa either, and he was constantly paralleled to MIKE in season 4.

Okay back to the beginning of your ask.

Mike's always been protective of Will, and we can see how their relationship is very different compared to their other friends throughout season one. An example of him being protective is when he does stuff like:

"I'm the only one acting normal here. I'm the only one that cares about Will."

"So this is all Will's fault?!"

*Literally pushes his bully over onto the ground and is willing to fight him after he says homophobic things about him*

*Constantly urges Lucas that Will is alive when the rest of them don't think so*

Like, bro literally instigates all his friends to go out looking for him in the rain, because he believes that would be what Will would do for them ("he put himself in danger to help the party").

So in your point of view, Mike projected his protective feelings about someone needing him onto Will because he's upset about El being gone. Couldn't the EXACT same thing be said but the opposite way around then? Mike likes to be needed. And it just happens to be that these two people need him in that moment. However, THE DIFFERENCE is this:

When Will goes missing? Mike never gives up. He constantly urges his friends to do whatever it takes to find Will. The reason he keeps El around (before he makes friends with her) is because bad people are after her and because she recognises Will in a photo. He says that El is a weapon and that "we can't find Will if we're dead". Even when they all believe him to be dead, he says that Will isn't because of something he heard on the radio, just like how Joyce heard him on the phone.

When El goes missing? Mike gives up. To be honest, it's been a year. Maybe if Will went missing for a year, he would have given up then too. But, we can see in a flashback scene from the VERY DAY that El goes missing, Mike literally sees her and doesn't go after her. The government does, but he just squints at her and doesn't do anything. Mike calls her on the walkie, and on halloween, he stops, prioritising Will and later figuring out that meeting him was the best thing he's ever done, and it seems conclusive. He has no hope of her being alive because he says to Max, "But she's gone, just like Bob." (Bobs literally just died so hes saying shes dead). Mike never uses Will as a vessel to find El, even though he easily could, being that he's connected to the upside down.

So where am I going with this? No. Mike does not project his feelings onto Will from his feelings about El. The behaviours he exhibits are continuous from his feelings before El went missing, and he doesn't treat him in the same way.

Some other points you brought up were:

Mike is afraid to lose El and that is why he can't say I love you. Of course he is afraid to lose her. He cares about her, he's said that truthfully. He's afraid to lose Dustin, he's afraid to lose Will, he's afraid to lose Lucas, he's afraid to lose anyone. He feels that survivors' guilt from season one especially though, which is all the more upsetting about why he says I love you in the end. Will tells Mike that El needs him and always will. Mike gets the belief that El needs him to say I love you to her, and gets reminded by Will before he says it. AND SO that is why he says it to her in the end. In reality of course, it is Will that needs him. SOOOO the thing that makes him 'love' El is that fact that she needs him, but he's going to get a real shock when he realises he loved the version of El that's really Will and what he feels.

Mike lives in a loveless and cold family. No he's not in a completely loveless family. Karen loves both her kids and expresses it regularly, and we even see this in season 4 when Karen hugs Mike at the reunion scene. I guess what you might be talking about is Ted and Karen. Here's the fucking thing. Mike knows his parents are not in love. He thinks that's what relationships are supposed to look LIKE. He internalises his family's issues. So, he gets into a relationship like his parents', a loveless one. In season 3 we see him trying to act on logic not emotion, seeing that getting into a relationship like this is just the logical course of action and just part of growing up. That's exactly what NANCY DOES WITH STEVE and yet I don't see people going 'oH shE lOveS hiM sHe jUst nEvEr sEen hEr pAreNts sAy iT!!!!'. We can all agree that she just tried to emulate her parents, but she doesn't actually love him. (SHE EVEN SAID I LOVE YOU OUT LOUD but still can't mean it truthfully). But how about we break this cycle? Breaking cycles of loveless relationships is one of the themes in stranger things so it makes sense for this to happen again.

Maybe he's sad in the Snowball scene because he thinks maybe El will leave him there. He only seemed upset when Will went with someone else and the camera shots literally makes it clear? I have a whole post on this if you want to read it: Snowball Scene Analysis. When El comes in, he doesn't say anything like 'Oh I had no idea you'd be here'. I believe that he knew she was coming, and sitting on that chair, he was conflicted given everything that went on with him that season, the promises he's made to El vs. the way he feels about Will now. The one shot of him looking at her also doesn't make him seem happy, but yeah, take that scene and do what you want with it tbh.

OOF okay thankyou so much for your ask!! This was quite the challenge but it really actually gave me a whole new perspective on things and I really love these asks because it gives me a chance to better understand the show itself <3 Let me know if you're swayed or smth haha or if you have a counterpoint :)

Also thanks for not being toxic. If anyone wants to come and debate with me, do it in this way, because there is no space for negativity and toxicity on my page thankyou very much.

[juice-plums]

Sweet, Little Rabbit

Sergei Kravinoff x !Busty woman! reader

Warnings: threatening, hardcore sex activity, Public sex setting, need him in my bed bad after this movie

You were working in your little cubicle, you were a small time lawyer, working for Ms. Calypso, under her influence you two became friends when you first applied, You were wearing a white, button down shirt that accentuated your ample bosom, and a short, black, pencil skirt, that accentuated your ample rump, you liked the way you had dressed at times to work, you black high heels innocently clicked against the marbled floor of the building, looking for Calypso to go over business files, and seeing her go into a conference room, You had innocently followed and stopped listening, it sounded like she was talking to someone, you nod to yourself and waited a while then knocked politely

When you heard Calypso’s polite ‘Come in’ You came in, the first thing you see was Calypso which she took a breath of relief seeing you, and seeing a strong, built man with her in, that made dead eye contact with you, the stare made you get goosebumps, you head had turned to Calypso then to the strong man that wasn’t wearing any shoes, you had gulped

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

You had sweetly asked, backing up softly with the files, you clicked your heels nervously, Calypso immediately shaking her head, while the man nodded yes to you, yet he still stared at you, in his eyes you were like a little, plump rabbit, it was kind of cute, he also found your nervousness adorable as you stumbled softly in your high heels, you backed up to leave the two alone, Calypso immediately assured you that you were not interrupting anything,

“Like I said you’re fine,….this is Sergei and this is…Reader”

Calypso had said, making you lock eyes with Sergei, his gaze cold and serious, you never had seen such eyes before, he eyes you, not in a judgmental way but in a sexy kind of way, like he was liking what he was seeing, Calypso immediately getting that tension and assured Sergei she’ll get ‘information’ and she left the two of us alone, I gulp as Calypso gave a thumbs up leaving, he looked at me and turned out to the glassy window, I gulped softly again

“are you alright?…”

“My brother is gone, taken”

he says, I gasp, my high heels softly clicked to him, and I was behind him softly now, my hand softly traced his bicep as a way to console him

“Don’t worry, we’ll get him back”

“I hope so,…Rabbit”

He says with a bit of light humor, I mock gasp, smiling, my hands on my busty hips as I do so

“Excuse me?, I’m not a rabbit”

“You’re plump, like a fuzzy rabbit”

he had said again, making me giggle softly, he light smiled enjoying the sound of my giggle, his gaze on your curvy and busty body, you felt his gaze on your body making you shy and nervous, he liked the effect he had on you, he liked making you all flustered and nervous, he stepped closer to you, making your breath softly hitched from his closeness, your sweet perfumed fogged his sensed, blurring his mind in delight, he grinned, you swore you saw a fang, before you could say anything, he passionately kissed your lips, making you gasp in delight, he could taste the sweetness of your lipstick as he plunged his tongue in your mouth, you swore your pussy got wet from this single kiss

Sergei had grinned, unbuttoning her blouse, revealing her big, juicy breasts compacted in a tight lacy bra, he licked his lips appreciatively, making you all shy, feeling the cold breeze hit your chest, his hand delve into your pencil skirt, massaging your pussy through you panties, you moan, softly holding his hand warmly as he rubbed in between your pussy folds he grinned watching your face contort into bliss

“w-wait, we shouldn’t be doing this here..”

You tried to say, but just loving how it hand is playing with your sweet pussy, the slick wetness coating your pussy and his hands, he silenced you with a heated kiss, you both slurped tongues together, you moaned in bliss, his cock stirs in his dress pants you gazed at his boner, and your eyes bulged, seeing the physical outline of his dick print, made your mouth softly water, he chuckled

“I’m gonna get all nine inches of my cock into this sweet pussy, you hear that, rabbit?”

He dominantly had said, making your pussy get even more wet from the excitement, he chuckled

“oh yeah, look at that, your pussy is just so wet from excitement, gonna mark and claim this thick pussy and make it my own”

He dominantly had said, goodness he was so crude and mean, you couldn’t help but love it, he lays you down on the conference table, ripping off your panties and hiking up your skirt, he groans smelling your arousal that clogged his senses up as well, he revealed his long, uncut, and throbbing cock to me, he wasn’t lying it was 9 inches, you gasp, spreading your legs, he couldn’t help but give your pussy a few licks and slurps making you arch your back on the table, he groaned approvingly and lifted up, unsheathing his cock fully inside your pussy, making you gasp, he groans as your pussy walls clamped around his cock, he grabbed your thick hips and slammed inside you not taking any breaks

“oh-ahha!~, Sergei!!~”

You blissfully moaned, locking your legs around his waist, holding him close like you two were caterpillars hunching, he groaned again, feeling your legs lock, he bottomed in and out of you fast like his life depended on it he didn’t care who’d come in all he cared about was pleasuring sweet Reader, his sweet Rabbit, you were getting your brain fucked and he was getting his cock milked

the depraved scene still continues to unfold in the tiny conference room, anyone could come in by now, they both didn’t care they were both lost in the pleasure and how Sergei was fucking her womb into oblivion, Her screams got louder and she scratched his back up, Sergei absolutely loved that shit and rammed into her cervix every time, the poor table creaked and groan to the love making

“I’m gonna bust my load in you, you want that?, want me to cream pie your womb?”

“oh yeah!, cum in my pussy, fill me up, I wanna be filled with cum”

You shamelessly beg, you didn’t ever want to stop having sex, it felt so good with him, he was definitely hitting all your right places, he was not a stranger to making love to a woman, he groaned slamming his cock into your pussy one more time all 9 inches in your pussy and cum, his hot scalding cum flowing in your pussy, you saw stars, and let him cum inside you, blissfully dazed out, he pulled out, his cock with a wet pop, he watched as he cum leaked out of your pussy and grinned, locking your union with a searing, sweet kiss

“Now you’re mine,…my sweet, little rabbit”

[halfmoonshines]

marc spector/steven grant/jake lockley x reader

summary: you loved all of your boys equally. most days.

or; they're all amazing in their own ways, but definitely have their strong suits.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were going to strangle Marc Spector, you were sure of it. You were also sure that Steven would forgive you, and Jake probably wouldn't bat an eye.

How many times had you told this man that you had a laundry basket for a reason? Fist of Vengeance or not, his socks still stunk and you were getting tired of padding around the apartment twice a week collecting them all.

You slammed the washer door shut a little too hard just as you heard the front door open and click shut.

"I'm home, love! They had a great deal on your favorite cream cheese at the shops." Steven's honey accent pierces the quiet of your anger and you immediately simmer; his sunny disposition a cold water on your raging fire. You had nearly forgotten that he was the one who went to the store.

"That's great." You said as you rounded the corner, a smile on your face.

Steven paused in his unloading the groceries, a furrow creasing his brow. "Are you alright, sweets? You look tense." He crossed the small kitchen over to you, hands settling lightly on your shoulders. Leave it to Steven to see the slightest bit of tension in you.

You have a loving eye roll, moving closer to wrap your own arms around him. "I'm okay, Steven. Just slightly peeved at Marc for being so messy."

His hold dropped to your waist and he rested his chin on top of your head, a mirthful chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "That he is, love. Right disgusting bugger. Shall we do something about him?"

"I thought you wouldn't take kindly to me choking him with the next dirty sock I find."

"I'm sure I can look the other way."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

"You're being ungrateful, you need to actually listen to me-"

Conversations with your mother never went over well, but this time you were well tired of listening to it.

"I am not being ungrateful, Sharon. I'm being realistic. Don't call me again." You slammed the phone down with a force, shaking the glass of water you had perched on the dining table. You winced, knowing that smart phones weren't made to take that kind of beating but you were far past the point of caring.

She always knew how to rile you up; to upset you and make you feel guilty. You didn't even know why you bothered to pick up her calls anymore. Some sick sense of ownership.

The hands that turned you were warm and familiar, the chest that greeted you smelling of musk and pine.

"You want to talk about it?" Marc's voice made you wince. Steven was the one that left the house this morning, you hadn't been aware that they planned to switch. You hated talking about this stuff with Marc, knowing full well it never compared to the relationship he suffered with his own mother.

You gave a shake of your head and met his dark brown gaze. "It's fine, babe. Same old attitude."

Marc's smirk lacked the usual humor. He raised one of his hands to twirl a loose piece of your hair, tracing the movement with his eyes. "You know you don't have to bottle it up, right? How you feel is important. Don't ignore that just because I have my own issues."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's quite the self aware statement, Mr. Spector. I'm impressed."

Marc's smile morphed into that familiar one and he returned your earlier eye roll. "Don't deflect. I'm here if you want to talk."

You dropped your hand to his and started to pull him towards the kitchen. "We can talk while we cook. I'm starving."

"I can agree with that."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were being followed, you were sure of it. You tried not to hasten your steps too much, knowing full well that the person who had been following you for the last six blocks would give chase.

You wouldn't escape them.

You and the boys had obviously gone through this kind of situation before. Being the fist of Khonshu didn't come with a fan club, but it certainly did build a repertoire of enemies. If they lived, that is.

Your breath was puffing out of you in clouds as you power walked down a road parallel to your own, debating the merits on showing this man where you lived on the off chance that Marc was home.

You could hear the footsteps behind you speed up and you returned it in kind, kicking into a slow jog - all pretense of being unaware going out the window.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the man approaching quickly, and that was the first mistake you made.

The second one was hesitating when another men stepped out of the shadows of a store front. You knocked into him firmly, breath escaping out of your chest while his harsh grip dug into your shoulders.

Oh, you were fucked.

The man who had been following you caught up to you then, hand clasping over your mouth to muffle the strangled scream you had attempted.

Those training sessions in the living room with Jake felt like a distant memory with the blood pumping through your veins. You kicked wildly at the man in front of you, managing to graze that sensitive bit between his legs.

"I'm going to enjoy this so much more now." The accent was Irish, but you were quickly distracted by the large knife he brought up to your throat.

You stopped thrashing, all too aware of the sharp tip of steel biting into the sensitive skin on your neck. A stray tear rolled out of your eye, fate becoming more concrete.

"Hurry it up, Joey. We don't have time to dally."

"Shut yer pipe-" The man holding the knives voice gurgled briefly before he collapsed on the ground in front of you, the tips of crescent moon shaped knives poking out of the front of his chest.

You found him instantly, half masked by the shadows on the street.

"Bloody fuck." The man holding you simply tightened his hold, one hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back. The squeal you gave wasn't by choice but you could see the start that the suited man watching you gave. "Stay over there, white devil, or she will die with me. Do you hear-"

You almost didn't see it, the knife being thrown but it was embedded in the goon's throat before your next breath. He released you all at once and you fell forward from the force, gloved hands catching you before you could hit the pavement.

You were heaving breaths, vaguely aware that you were going into something akin to shock but unable to pull yourself out.

"Breathe, mi corazon. You need to take slow breaths." Jake's own hands were shaking almost imperceptibly, you could tell that he was struggling to keep a lid on his fury.

You dragged in a deep breath through your nose, forcing yourself to sit on it before exhaling. You folded into his embrace, fresh tears springing into your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Jake's scoff was almost offensive. "What the fuck are you sorry about?"

You gestured to yourself haphazardly. "Completely losing my shit the first time that something happens to me."

The suit disappeared then, his bare hand gripping your chin lightly, bringing your gaze to his. There was fire churning there, and you realized you mistook some of his anger. There was fear there too. For you, though. Never himself.

"Don't you ever apologize to me when there's," His hand lowered a bit, ghosting over the line of red that the knife had left on your throat. "Blood dripping down you. Blood that's my fault." You understood then, the hard clench of his jaw. "Mierda, babe. This could've ended so differently."

Your hand wraps around the his wrist, bringing it into your lap, willing him to look at you instead of the wound he was fixated on. "But it wasn't. Because you were here. I'm okay, Jake."

Something flashed in his eyes, and a cloud passed over his face. He was bottling it up, you could tell, but there wasn't much you could do about that right now. "Let's get you home."

You let him help you off the pavement, keeping a grounding hand on his arm. Jake hesitated a moment, question poised on his tongue.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure you're okay? If you want to talk it out, I can step back. It would probably be good to have someone to talk to-"

Your kiss was chaste, but served its purpose of shutting him up. "If I wanted to talk about it, I could do that with you, Jake. You don't need to go anywhere."

"You know I'm not very good at that-"

"You're perfect." You insisted. No room for arguments.

He smiled wryly, arm wrapping around your waist. "How about I run you a bath when we get home and we order some takeout. What are you hungry for?"

"Surprise me."

[aishangotome]

Nokto Klein: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

A loud noise shattered the silence of the private room where we were alone. I hurriedly moved away from Nokto and looked towards the door--

Silvio: Yo, fox bastard. Ya in there?

The one who appeared, adorned with so many jewels that they made a loud jangling sound, was Benitoite's First Prince, Silvio.

Nokto: That's something you say while knocking on the door, not after kicking it down.

Silvio: Huh? Don't sweat the small stuff.

(As expected of the richest man on the continent...)

(I thought so the first time I met him, but he's a man of loud noises and flashy appearances.)

*flashback*

Emma: Would you like to take a look?

???: Huh? Are you talkin' to me, woman?

Emma: Yes. It seems you've been staring for quite a while.

???: Ha, if you're goin' to take up my time, ya better have somethin' that satisfies me.

*flashback over*

A memory from when we went on vacation to Benitoite to let the busy Nokto rest surfaced in my mind.

(I was just touching Nokto, so I feel kind of awkward...)

Seeing me like this and Nokto acting as if nothing had happened, Silvio seemed to understand everything and his expression clearly darkened.

Silvio: Don't get frisky the moment you arrive.

Nokto: Silvio, do you know the word "delicacy"?

Silvio: Doesn't matter. This is my territory. Behave yourselves a little.

Nokto: Yes, yes, this time I'm visiting as the King of Rhodolite. I'll be in your care.

(I want to disappear...)

Desperately trying to endure the urge to faint from embarrassment, I lift the hem of my dress to greet him.

Emma: Prince Silvio, it's been a while. Thank you for having us during our stay.

(This time, unlike back then, I'm meeting him as the future queen, so I have to be firm.)

I somehow tried to switch my mindset, but for some reason, Silvio gave me a blunt look---

Silvio: You really chose this common-lookin' woman, huh?

Emma: ...!

(W-well, it's true that I'm from a commoner's background, and I'm trying not to let my true self show...!)

I thought he was high-handed from the time we met in town, but because I'm trying to be a woman worthy of Nokto, Silvio's words subtly pierce my heart.

As I try to act unconcerned and evade the situation harmlessly, Nokto pulls me close by the waist.

Nokto: Don't be mean just because I have such a cute fiancée, okay?

Emma: Nokto...

Even in his casual tone, I can sense his concern for me, and my heart starts to race.

Silvio frowns with a truly disgusted look on his face.

Silvio: I just said what I thought.

Nokto: Hmm? I thought you were jealous.

Nokto, with a foxy smile on his face, suddenly brings his face close to mine as if he's about to kiss me.

Emma: Whoa, Nokto, that's a bit much...

(I know you're trying to throw Silvio off, but it's embarrassing!)

Silvio: If you show me any more of that weird stuff, I'll kick ya outta the castle!

Silvio: And you, don't blush so easily just 'cause he got close to yer face. Get a grip in three seconds!

Emma: D-don't be unreasonable!

Emma: Besides, it's Nokto, so it's not "just anything" to me.

Nokto: You're saying some pretty tempting things. You're good at making me happy.

Nokto: See, wasn't that lovey-dovey talk cute?

Silvio: I don't have time to listen to your nonsense.

Silvio: I can't stand watchin' your charade any longer. Let's get down to business.

Nokto: Oh, you mean tomorrow's Founding Festival party?

Silvio: If ya know, then stop showin' me that crap and listen!

Nokto: Sorry, sorry, but it's okay, right? Silvio was the one who slipped up first.

Silvio: Tch... By the way, will this woman also be attendin' the party?

Nokto: Of course, you're going too, right?

Emma: Yes. I would very much like to attend.

(Because our visit to Benitoite this time,)

(Officially, it's for attending this anniversary party--)

*flashback*

One day, with our departure for Benitoite imminent--

I was facing King Nokto in his office for a final meeting.

Nokto: Benitoite is an allied nation, so there's no need to be so wary,

Nokto: But since we're going on a diplomatic mission, we need a proper reason.

Nokto: Now that the three countries of Tanzanite, Achroite, and Ruby have formed an alliance,

Nokto: Visiting under the pretense of a vacation might make us seem frivolous.

Nokto: Benitoite has a flourishing trade and many people from other countries stay there...

Nokto: If we're seen as a king and queen gallivanting around while the continent is unstable,

Nokto: There's a possibility that groundless rumors will spread to Obsidian and Jade.

Emma: In that case, what would be the best course of action?

???: How about using this invitation?

Emma: Certainly, attending some kind of party would be the most natural--

Emma: Wait... Prince Clavis!?

Clavis suddenly appeared between Nokto and me, holding an envelope in his hand.

Nokto: ...Why are you casually joining the conversation?

Clavis: Good question. The answer is because you started talking where I am.

Nokto: You mean we were talking in the wrong place. Well, fine, but don't get in the way.

Clavis: Is that a royal order?

Nokto: You mean you're going to get in the way that much?

Clavis: Haha, that depends on my mood.

Nokto: ...Whatever.

Nokto swiftly took the envelope from Clavis's hand. It bore the national emblem of Benitoite and an unfamiliar crest.

Emma: What invitation is that?

Nokto: Do you remember the story about how I went to Benitoite for a short-term study abroad program?

Emma: Yes, of course.

(During his study abroad, he lived with a distant relative, a married couple of Rhodolite royal lineage, right?)

We also greeted the elderly couple during our previous vacation and stayed at their mansion.

Nokto: At that time, I had a tutor who taught me about Benitoite.

Nokto: I received an invitation to a founding anniversary party from the school where he works as a teacher.

Emma: A school's... founding anniversary party?

Clavis: Sounds fun, doesn't it? Just the word "school" makes it an exciting invitation. I wouldn't hesitate to attend.

Nokto: You be quiet for a bit.

Emma: Even though you had a connection with the teacher, why did you receive an invitation if you didn't attend the school, Nokto?

Nokto: Recently, I had a chance to talk with a nobleman who funds the school in Benitoite at a meeting I attended.

Nokto: I mentioned my tutor's name, and said I wanted to use their educational institutions as a reference for our country...

Nokto: I showed my interest in the school and steered the conversation towards getting invited to the party.

Emma: Wow... That worked out well.

Nokto: It's partly thanks to the fact that he's the type who likes to show off.

Nokto: Even if it's a small country, it's something to boast about that he has a connection with the king, right?

Emma: I see. But to have met such a nobleman by chance--

(—Wait, knowing Nokto, maybe...)

Emma: Was meeting that nobleman really a coincidence?

Nokto: You saw through me?

Nokto: Actually, I knew that nobleman would be attending the meeting from the beginning, and getting the invitation was also as planned.

Nokto: I thought I might need an excuse to go to Benitoite.

(Amazing... He was working with everything in sight.)

(With his negotiation skills to make things go his way, as expected of my fiancé--)

Clavis: "My fiancé is so wonderful and reliable... I love him, I adore him, I want to kiss him right now."

Emma: You're not mocking me right now, are you!?

Clavis: Haha, was it similar?

Emma: Not at all!

Nokto: Emma.

Emma: Nokto, say something too--

Nokto: You can kiss me anytime you want.

Emma: ...Could you tell me more about that founding anniversary party?

Nokto & Clavis: Are you embarrassed? / You're blushing?

Emma: Don't tease me, both of you!

*flashback over*

(--I remembered some extra things...)

Pulling myself together, I listen to Silvio's voice.

Silvio: I'll also be attendin' the anniversary party 'cause I personally fund the school. We'll head there together tomorrow.

Nokto: Okay, thanks.

Silvio: The real reason you came to my country at this time is probably 'bout the three-country alliance, right? Is there anythin' else?

(Oh... he knew... But Nokto doesn't seem surprised at all, as if he expected to be asked.)

Perhaps not all the nobles of Benitoite are aware of our purpose. Judging from Nokto's interactions so far, it might be that Silvio is particularly perceptive.

Nokto shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

Nokto: Ah, as expected, you saw through me.

Nokto: If I remember correctly, isn't that facility about to open?

(Huh...?)

Unfamiliar information came out of Nokto's mouth, and my heart began to race with unease.

Silvio: As always, you're quick to hear the news.

Nokto: A small country can't survive without being sensitive to information.

Silvio: You understand well.

Silvio: Whether it's money or anythin' else, fresh information is essential to gettin' your hands on it.

(What does that mean...? I haven't heard anything other than the founding anniversary party...)

Nokto: I have some good information about the facility. That's why I came to the castle to offer it to you, Silvio.

Silvio: Ha, I see. If you have a gift, I won't pry into unnecessary matters.

From the exchange with Silvio, I can see that Nokto really isn't fazed at all.

(And yet, I'm getting flustered just because something unexpected happened...)

I think I've become quite a bit more resilient compared to when I first met Nokto, but as I spend more time by his side as the future queen and become more involved in official duties, I've come to feel that I'm still immature.

(That's why I want to be careful not to become a burden to Nokto.)

As I'm renewing my resolve, Silvio turns around.

Silvio: We're done talkin'. I have other business to attend to, so I'll be goin'.

Silvio: --Oh, that's right. I'll throw a little welcome party for ya tonight, so come.

Nokto: My, how generous of you. Emma and I will attend.

Emma: Thank you, Prince Silvio.

Silvio: Yes, even if I say it's a small party, extravagance is the Benitoite way. Enjoy yourselves to the fullest.

Silvio shifts his gaze from me to Nokto and stares intently.

Silvio: But, be a little prepared.

Nokto: Hmm?

Silvio: You're not popular in my country, King Nokto.

Leaving behind an unsettling warning, Silvio left the guest room.

-

Around the time the setting sun sank below the windswept horizon and the curtain of night fell--

Benitoite, under the leadership of Prince Silvio, held a welcome party for the visiting King and future Queen of Rhodolite.

The finest alcohol, cuisine, music, hospitality, and the entire space were all extravagantly luxurious...

Nokto chuckled at me as I hurriedly covered my gaping mouth with my hand.

Nokto: You've been surprised by everything since you came to the castle.

Emma: Because everywhere I look, I see expensive things... I'm starting to get nervous in a different way.

Nokto: Shall I loosen you up?

Contrary to his seemingly considerate words, a mischievous smile played on Nokto's lips.

Emma: ...As long as it's within the bounds of common sense.

Nokto: What kind of things are outside the bounds?

Emma: That's...

Nokto: Your face is red.

Emma: Eh?

Nokto: Lewd.

Emma: I-it's different from what Nokto is thinking!?

Nokto: Yes, yes, indecent instead of lewd.

(It means the same thing even if you say it differently!?)

Nokto: So? Did that loosen you up?

Emma: Ah, now that you mention it... You could have loosened me up in a more normal way, though.

Nokto: But it was within the bounds of common sense, wasn't it?

Emma: Ugh... Thank you.

Nokto: You're welcome.

Pushing down the embarrassment that came in place of nervousness thanks to Nokto, I pick up my glass.

When I try the Benitoite liquor, a refreshing sweetness spreads in my mouth.

(Delicious...)

While sipping my drink, I casually look around and see the nobles cheerfully chatting and enjoying the food.

(I wonder what Silvio meant by those words. So far, there's nothing strange about the party itself...)

Emma: Hey, Nokto. Do you have any idea what Silvio meant by what he said earlier?

Nokto: All I can say is, there are a few things that come to mind.

It's true that Nokto was a womanizer before we met, and there were always rumors about his affairs.

But it shouldn't be to the extent that it would earn him a bad reputation even in other countries...

Besides, if it's Nokto, he should have already sensed that he's unpopular with some people in Benitoite.

And the reason for that is--.

(Is he not telling me on purpose because he doesn't want me to know...?)

(Or is he trying not to worry me about unnecessary things during the party?)

Benitoite Noble: King Nokto, Lady Emma, welcome to Benitoite.

Nokto: Thank you for the warm welcome. Thanks to you, we are having a pleasant evening.

Nokto: As expected, your country has a fine selection of alcohol.

(I'll think about it and ask him later. I have to focus on socializing now.)

I consciously switched my mindset and continued to interact with the important people of Benitoite.

The atmosphere of the party was no different from any other I had attended.

(But... what is it?)

Even though I thought it was the same, I suddenly felt a sense of discomfort that I couldn't quite put into words.

To find out what it was, I looked around just like I did before--

(Ah...)

-

Nokto: How long are you planning to stay dressed like that?

.

.

.

Chapter 2 Premium Story

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[bonemarble]

love your thoughts on Leah! how do you think her relationship could develop or what direction would it go in regards to Anna and Charles after wild sign?

interesting question! i don't think i have a very good answer for a "direction" these relationships could take, mainly because that depends on the larger story pb wants to tell: is this a story where people deconstruct the social order that has generated them or one where they try to find some measure of peace in it? i'll explain better under the cut.

charles and leah, i think, are at a point where they are starting to come to terms with their rivalry and identify its true cause: they were two lonely children starved for affection fighting each other because they couldn't fight bran for it. at the same time i don't know that this modicum of understanding is enough to build a relationship. even seeing the situation with a bit more clarity, the material causes that pit them against each other are not going to disappear, they have centuries of ill feelings between them, and i think at this point they simply don't like each other very much. even more importantly, i think there's a very good reason they are so repelled by each other and it took them so long to see the other's distress: they are very good mirrors. they both spent formative years of their lives with bran as the only (if imperfect) parental (or quasi) figure in their lives and attached the majority of their sense of self to their usefulness to him. to fully recognise the pain of this in the other would come very close to recognising this in themselves. they both know bran doesn't treat them well but they have become accustomed to it, i think. they grow some thick skin over it, shrug it off and get on with things (that's how bran wants them after all). seeing the other's wounds would make their own much more difficult to ignore. there's also an even more convoluted contortion in place: if they each believe bran is somehow unfair only towards them while he is right when he mistreats others, they never need to really question bran's judgement. feeling isolated in this unfairness is preferable compared to confronting the life-shaking truth that the person that moves the sun in your world may be doing it wrong. many other thoughts along these lines but this is already long.

leah and anna also have a mildly antagonistic relationship but of course there's less history there. my main issue with anna is that the only way to give her some true tridimensionality would be to acknowledge with some seriousness the difficulty of her circumstances. she was turned against her will, abused for years, and then latched onto her only saviour. he is a man she knows little when they basically marry and he is violent and possessive. her new life revolves around him and his complex family, with which she lives and has to deal all the time. at the same time, her survival depends on their support and protection, as we have seen how much her 'omega specialness' doesn't really ensure safety without material power to prevent her exploitation. there's no need to turn this into a grimdark novel, but if this context is not always waved away, suddenly she is not an unrealistic fairy always untouched by events: she is someone making strategic decisions to craft the best life possible out of her circumstances, finding love where she can and fighting for it. she has no true interest in anyone besides charles bc she is rightly guarded and balancing her new relationship with him already requires a lot of her energies. + he is the only person she can trust to be in her corner, without which she should be as lost as when they met (she also truly loves him ofc but this hardly explains her isolationist behaviour). she manipulates others not bc she is some quirky genius: it's the only way she sees to obtain what she needs when she is surrounded by aggressive impulsive people that are more powerful than her and feels the need to forestall their worst reactions. when bran and charles start giving her some latitude, she relaxes around them, especially as she realises she has things she can leverage (charles's love and her omega powers) to ensure a better condition for herself. but she is still wary of their flaws and recognises how they impact leah. yet leah is unpleasant. she sometimes makes her life more difficult but not really with the gravity and frequency people seem to assign her. even on good days however anna, so so smart and crafty and sneaky in navigating her circumstances, is almost annoyed by her: how has she not learned to do this better? how has she not learned to make herself likeable and dance around people and avoid confrontation to better obtain what she wants? but there's something else behind it, imo: leah might be brash and crude but she is real. how liberating that must be, to not always feel like your well-being depends on how quickly you past on a smile! the reason anna doesn't like leah, is the reason most people don't: to acknowledge leah's reactions as sensible is to eliminate the displacement of blame that allows life under unfair circumstances. to see leah's anger is justified means asking herself: why is she not angry? leah is a great mirror for her too. she can recognise her pain if she imagines her to be in a much more difficult position, someone to help from a higher standing. to confront her from a position of parity would mean to confront that position of parity: that she doesn't have any more material power than leah and her current better treatment stems from a momentary lucky alignment of events over which she has little control. bran and charles are, in their own ways, as unpleasant as leah is, only 1) anna needs them to survive; 2) since they also need her + they are not threatened by her they generally choose to treat her better. i am not saying anna should roll over and let leah treat her however she wants: leah enacts a similar mechanism with anna after all. disliking anna for being treated better is the only valve available to release her anger: it's not like she can accomplish much by going against bran and charles.

necessary prelude for me to say i don't care if leah and anna become fast friends. much as i don't care if leah and charles do. i think this dynamic is interesting even if it remains antagonistic, as long as either immobilism or change follow some logical exploration of this setting. it can truly go either way i would be ok with both.