#and the need to Belong to someone (female socialization) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 3 months

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The Most Innocent Sinner

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: For everyone, she's the shy, pure, little Y/n. Dating Dean Winchester is like going on dates with the complete opposite of her. So it is a very nice surprise when Dean learns how kinky she actually is by finding her collection of sex toys.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Content warning: Sex toys, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk

Square filled: Dildos for @spnkinkevents / “Now that’s something you definitely shouldn’t try at home.” for @jacklesversebingo / masturbation for @anyfandomkinkbingo / “Unfortunately, I’m turned on by that.” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/n: Finding a title is so hard. I got stuck on this one for way too long. Big thanks to my friends that helped me!

From the outside, Y/n looked like a Saint. Cute, she wasn't very tall and almost sickly shy, and her social anxiety didn't help her case at all.

Since she didn’t have many friends, Y/n spent her time at the library surrounded by stories that made her forget how alone she felt. The characters on these yellowed sheets would never judge or criticize her, it was a comfort in which she really liked to immerse herself, especially after a hard day.

It was also where she met the Winchester brothers for the first time.

For someone like Y/n, the complete opposite of popular, invisible to people even when she was in the same room with them, the Winchesters were the pinnacle of perfection. Bodies built like gods, well-defined faces, piercing eyes, they gave off a strong and dominating aura that attracted the gaze of everyone in their path. And Y/n was no exception.

The moment the two brothers walked near her table at the library, there was no longer any need to read. Her book closed by itself in front of her, as she no longer held it open, her eyes fixedly stuck on the two men. Following their directions with her gaze, she turned her head, almost hurting her neck.

The colors around her suddenly seemed more vivid. The sounds, sweeter to the ear. She strained her ear to better listen to their conversations. And it was then that the stories she loved reading so much... Became reality.

Y/n had always had a habit of making herself fade away. Not wanting to attract attention, remaining discreet and making herself as small as possible. But the moment she saw them, it was like a light bulb went on inside her, and filled her with a life she had never really felt. And she decided to change that.

She didn’t want to hide anymore.

It was an adventure awaiting her, just like in her books. Filled with villains, monsters, but also angels, laughter, food and finally, a place where she belonged. It didn't take long for her to take part in their lives, quickly becoming a full member of their families. Although she wasn’t trained to be in the field hunting monsters, her lifelong experience of extensive reading was too vital and important to refuse her help.

Initially, Y/n was assigned to research. It was perfect for her, she could show them how efficient she was at this task so they would give her more to do eventually. Quickly, she climbed the ranks in the Winchesters' trust and became closer to them.

Everything about her personality was perfect to fit with Sam's. And yet, as the months stretched into years, she inevitably grew closer to Dean. Some will say that opposites flock together, and they are not wrong. Dean was the opposite of Y/n, stubborn, he didn't hesitate to say what was on his mind and loved seeing the adorable expression that invaded her face when he made inappropriate or worse, sexual comments. Immediately, Y/n would disappear from the room almost like magic, or she would become so embarrassed that he took pity and immediately changed the subject.

Y/n had a purity that Dean never had, and it was one of the reasons why even after all this time knowing her, he was still reluctant to let her come with them on hunts. Or even to involve her in anything that could endanger her or defile this purity. If he could keep her from losing that sparkle in her eyes, he would, no matter the cost.

After a few months of dating, Y/n finally agreed to live in the bunker with them. Dean helped her move in, putting her things in a room other than his, and although not sharing the same bed disappointed him a little, he understood why. She wasn't ready, and he insisted on her comfort. He was willing to wait for her as long as it took.

“If I had known you had that many boxes, I would have brought in extra hands,” Dean huffed, placing yet another heavy box on the ground. Straightening up, he raised his arms above his head to stretch his back.

“Sorry, all my books,” Y/n shrugged and lowered her head, embarrassed.

With a quick wave of his hand, Dean signaled that it was nothing. “It only takes a little longer but it’s no problem,” he quickly said to reassure her, so she wouldn’t feel bad about having so much stuff. After all this time knowing her, he knew how important her books were to her.

Her 500 books which weighed bricks to transport…

“I'll go get another box,” she accepted Dean's answer and as she passed him on her way out, left a quick kiss on the cheek. It was Dean's turn to react, his face quickly turning red.

“Okay, in the meantime, I'm going to start…” Glancing at the mountain of cardboard, Dean sighed again. “Cleaning a little…”

Sam wasn't there. Although he proposed his help for moving her stuff in, Dean's ego was more powerful. As a boyfriend, he had to take care of his girlfriend himself. Without help. Showing her that he was there for her, and that she would always be his priority.

Dean had been in several relationships in the past. And he loved each woman with all of his soul. But each time, his work, his family or the apocalypse had forced him to leave. It had been a very difficult task each time, but he had done it.

Just the thought of leaving Y/n had the same effect as losing a limb. It was unthinkable.

Ah shit. He was in love.

Him, in love?

It was the first time.

… Wait a minute.

He was in love with her.

This realization hit him harder than he expected. Dean took a few steps back, his head spinning quickly. He was in love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Never in his entire life had he felt this kind of thing for someone, feelings so strong, so true. When they were together, he felt so good, like he had finally found the thing he was missing. The person he needed.

Dean took another step back, and inevitably, his legs encountered a box. He lost his balance and, trying not to cause a landslide, had to hold himself against the nearest thing… Another box.

This one was strangely and unfortunately lighter than the others and failed to stop him from doing damage. Luckily, Dean kept his balance and avoided the embarrassment of falling on his butt, but the box fell to the ground.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled as he hurried to pick it up. As he took it, he noticed that it was not closed properly. It was definitely not his plan to go through Y/n's personal belongings, but when he opened the box to close it better, he couldn't help but see what was inside.

And it wasn't his fault. The first item on top was a box that displayed the inscription of its contents, and his curiosity, well… took care of the rest.

“What the…” taking the item in question, Dean examined it. His hunter's eye detected every detail, inscriptions, the wear on the cardboard and even the place where the packaging had once been sealed before opening. The sticky paper seemed to have been removed so quickly, the color of the cardboard remained stuck on it. It was exactly as if its owner, eager to have the object, hadn’t been concerned by the breakage of its packaging.

SO. It was still possible that the contents were not what was written in black and white on the packaging. It was still a possibility. Dean understood, it was his duty to get to the bottom of it once and for all. Otherwise, the question would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Heart racing for no good reason, Dean placed his fingers where the paper was torn off and pulled the tab. Then, breathless, he opened the box and peered inside.

“Son of a bitch,” his mouth breathed along with the last of his oxygen. No... he couldn't believe it. As if he needed further proof that his eyes had already given him, Dean reached into the box and pulled out the object.

It was still in its bag, but an opening proved its frequent use. Both soft and very hard, it was of regular size and of a pretty pink shade. Dean didn't need to take it out of the bag to know that underneath was the little hole to get charged, the wire still in the box.

In his hand, Dean held the thing he never thought he would hold… Let alone find among his girlfriend's stuff. The sweet, pure, shy Y/n.

Scared that she would come back and see him like this, Dean quickly put the pink dildo vibrator back in its box. A thousand questions swirled through his mind and his heart still hadn't stopped pounding in his ribcage. In his eagerness and nervousness, Dean almost dropped the box, so he had to pull himself together to put it back exactly where he had found it.

And that was when he saw them.

There were plenty of them. A dozen even. Some had their original packaging, others had boxes without inscription. Curiosity rose in Dean who forgot the presence of his girlfriend and owner of these toys in the bunker. It was like suddenly he was alone in the world as he began to pull out everything he had in front of his eyes, his pupils dilating with each new discovery.

Small portable vibrator. One that looked like a butterfly, insertable and vibrant. A… dolphin? A flesh-colored dildo, including ball and base with suction. A magic staff. Purple, pink, black, the colors were added one after the other. And then suddenly...

Dean came across the largest box.

It was curiously and surprisingly big for what was inside. Dean couldn't help it. It was heavy, there was no doubt about the contents, but he had to see it with his eyes, hold it in his hands, and absorb reality.

It couldn't be that big... right?

And oh my god.

“Now that’s something you definitely shouldn’t try at home…”

Examining it from every angle, he still couldn't understand. The words “bad dragon” were forever imprinted in his brain along with the image of that purple and blue hued dildo. It was imposing, as tall as it was wide, and the different textures were strange but pleasant to the touch. And inevitably, his brain went in that perverse direction he imagined...

Her moans filled the room and the echo was carried throughout the whole bunker. Sounds of pleasure? No. Of frustration. She moaned as she tried as best she could to get the dildo into her entrance, which was still too tight for such a monster. But her determination only grew with her goal, and the idea alone of being able to have all those inches inside her was so exciting that she almost didn't need any lube.

“Oh fuck,” breathed through her lips as the head of the toy finally pierced the breach. Her head tilting back, she wiggled on the dildo to widen her entrance to accommodate the rest. Kneeling over the toy made it easier for her to maneuver her body and part her lips for guidance. And when finally the dildo was inside her, a long sigh of relief mixed with the pleasure of having succeeded hissed between her lips.

“I love the view…”

Dean hadn't missed a single thing. Standing in the doorway, he watched, admired, and nourished himself with the magnificent view before him. Kneeling on the bed facing him, she knew he was there. Even though her eyes were closed, she felt his presence, heard his heavy breathing. And then there was the rustling of his clothes every time he adjusted his position or reached for his swollen crotch.

It was one of the hottest things she had ever experienced. The desire was so strong it was palpable. The smell of sex filled the room. A moan passed her lips as she opened her eyes to look at him, her breath leaving her lungs, making the air almost unbreathable because it was so saturated.

"Oh. No."

The sound of a heavy object hitting the ground brought him back to consciousness. Then it took him several seconds to realize the voice that had spoken just before the impact, what it had said and who it belonged to. Turning towards the door, Dean's eyes were wide open, the green almost disappearing from his irises because his pupils were so dilated.

Her face was not in any better condition. As her eyes, wide with fear and shame, moved between what he was holding and the box behind him and finally settling on him, Dean could see the embarrassment quickly filling her being.

“What is this?”

Still shocked by his discovery and what it implied, these words were the first and only ones that had managed to escape his lips. Obviously, he knew what it was, and what it was for. However, he needed to hear it from her mouth. To confirm what his eyes had already understood.

His question only made her more uncomfortable.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she muttered under her breath, lowering her head and crossing the distance between them to grab the dildo and remove it from the hunter’s hands. All this to hide the evidence that had already been consumed, unfortunately. “Please, forget about it,” she pleaded, still refusing to meet his gaze. Her hand resting next to Dean's on the dildo, she tried to take it back, but was surprised to see that he didn't want to let it go. “Dean?”

“It’s impossible,” his voice was low, almost a breath lost in the tension of the air. “Unfortunately… I’m turned on by that. And here I thought you were all pure and shy…” Taking a pause in his words only made the state Y/n was in worse. Next to Dean, she felt his breath against her cheek, and the heat of his body. It was heavy, his chest moving in time with his harsh breathing. As if he had to do everything to hold back. “I waited for you to be ready, and I'll still wait but… Y/n…” As she still refused to raise her head and meet his gaze, Dean took his other hand, the one that wasn't holding the dildo, to gently lift Y/n’s chin. “Thinking about you touching yourself with that… oh fuck, it’s hot, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” A shy smile appeared on her lips, her eyes watering at how she was embarrassed but still... Very excited by this idea.

“Oh yeah,” Dean swallowed, his green eyes darting from Y/n's lips to her eyes, then back to her lips. Like two magnets held too far apart, but at the same time too close, it was inevitable.

Dean pressed his mouth to Y/n’s, kissing her forcefully. The dildo was quickly put aside, both needing their hands to touch the other. Dean placed his on Y/n's waist, and her around his neck. Her nails scratched the soft part of his neck, leaving red marks he would never see. It was intense, they almost devoured each other with an insatiable appetite. Opening her lips, Y/n stuck her tongue out barely, just enough to give access to Dean who was quick to push his tongue into her mouth. The kiss became languorous, messy, even, and Y/n backed into a box and almost fell. Dean broke the kiss to ask if she was okay, but she silenced him by replacing her lips on his to continue the kiss.

Their mouths didn't leave each other as clothes flew around the room, some getting stuck on boxes while others fell to the floor. Eventually, they managed to maneuver through the mountains of boxes to get to the bed. Y/n plopped down on the mattress and laughed against Dean’s mouth which only took a second to find its way back to hers. Now both were shirtless and their hands explored each other without stopping.

Finally, Y/n broke the kiss to speak.

“I want you to watch me.”

“What?” Dean was panting, his erection so painful in his pants he was afraid it would explode at the slightest touch. Like a hungry lion demanding its prey, he tried to grab Y/n's lips but she refused him access by placing her fingers between them.

“I want you to watch me use the toy…” If she was an angel a few moments ago, the Y/n he had, lying under him on the bed, half naked, was a little devil hidden under the appearance of a Saint.

Just the thought of seeing her in real life masturbating with the monster he had found made Dean gulp and push himself up so he was on his knees. His face was so red, he had trouble understanding how there could still be blood in his length.

“Are you sure? I mean, I… I can’t say no to that, fuck, but… I don’t want you to feel forced or…”

“Dean,” she interrupted, a smile tugging at her lips. “I really want to. And I know you want it too.” Y/n took a deep, slightly shaky breath before continuing. “So… Bring me the one you want me to use… And get comfortable.”

Dean swallowed and looked at his girlfriend's face. Since he had known her, they had never been this far in their intimacy. And he would never have imagined that she had this in her. Obviously he was surprised, but it was a very pleasant surprise. Like an excited child on Christmas morning, Dean rushed to the box of adult toys and once again admired all the choices presented to him. Each of them infused an image, each more erotic than the other, into his mind. For a moment, he hesitated to take the monster he had found shortly before, but decided that for now, this view was better in his mind. And he didn't want to embarrass Y/n even more than she was, what she was proposing was very intimate, very sexy, but also terribly hard to do. To open up like this, to show yourself like this...

Dean returned to his girlfriend, a box in hand. “This one,” he held out the box, knowing full well what it contained. Y/n took it, hesitated for a few seconds while staring at it in her hands. Just as Dean was about to repeat that she didn't have to, that they could continue to just makeout and that was okay, she opened the box and took out the toy.

It was a simple one. No vibration, just a flesh colored dildo with suction at the bottom. It wasn’t the biggest she owned, but it was still big, almost as big as Dean’s cock. So to see her use this, he could easily picture him in her…

Just the thought sent another wave of arousal down his pants.

“Do you need a moment, or lube or…” Dean was still standing up near the bed as she was on her knees on the mattress. For the first time, he was clueless and didn't know what to do. And yet, it was not his first time, nor the last, that he had more kinky moments with his partner. But Y/n was different, she wasn't just his sexual partner, but the woman he loved. And the prospect of getting even closer and more intimate was worth more than any sex he could have.

“I want you to watch the whole thing,” Y/n replied, lifting her ass off the mattress just enough to undo her pants and pull them down along with her panties with just one hand. In an almost expert manner, she finished undressing herself with one hand, her other never letting go of the toy. “You can sit down, you know,” she laughed when she saw Dean still standing where he was, stiff as a stick.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he sat on the edge of the bed and turned his body towards her. It was like he was back at 15 with the most popular girl in school, ready for his first time. Nervousness filled his entire being, along with excitement, and if he wasn't so experienced years later, his erection would have disappeared or he would have come prematurely in his pants.

Dean silently thanked all the girls he had in the past that strengthened his stamina.

“How do you want me to use it?”

Dean could see how nervous she was. It was the first time she was completely naked in front of him, and her body was shaking ever so slightly, shivers that covered her soft skin in goosebumps. But yet, through that nervousness, she was freaking sexy. Still kneeling, she was slowly stroking her intimacy with the toy, coating it with her wetness. And without asking, Dean knew she wouldn’t need any lube.

“Just… Like this, you can ride it…” The words got out of his mouth by automatism. Truth was, Dean was half there now, so excited and focused on her, a part of his mind was shut down. It was so hot, he couldn’t detach his eyes from her body, the way the toy rubbed through her lower lips, how her hips rocked back on it, and her face, so soft, so cute, so embarrassed… With eyes burning in a strong passion.

“Okay,” she whispered. Time seemed to slow down. Dean could feel his heart beating in his head and in his crotch, the intensity growing with each movement she made. Straightening up, she placed the dildo behind her, careful to align it with her entrance, and opened up her legs to let Dean continue watching.

And he could see it all.

It was better than everything he could ever imagine.

The toy was big, but she was probably very wet and very used to it, because it didn’t take long for her to lower down on it. Inch by inch, the dildo disappeared into her entrance until it was almost completely gone. Her body was bent back, her chest glistening with sweat and the cutest moan left her lips.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. It was too much, so he rushed to open his pants, just enough to free his aching cock. The simple touch sent thousands of electrical shocks of pleasure through his body, but still, his eyes were fixed on her. “You’re so hot, I don’t think I’ll last long,” he held the base of his cock stronger to avoid his climax.

“I don’t think I’ll last long either,” she whimpered. She had started moving already, slowly, up and down on the toy. Since she was on the bed, the succion was useless and she had to hold it with one hand. Dean could see how wet she was on the dildo, and imagined how warm it had to be inside.

Another groan whistled through his teeth.

“Hmmm,” she moaned, picking up speed. “It feels so good… Dean… Look at me…”

He didn’t notice, but his gaze was so focused on the toy and her pussy, he didn’t even look at her face. Blinking hard, he looked up, and when he saw her face, twisted in pleasure, he couldn’t help it.

His hand started moving on his cock at the same rhythm as her.

“Can’t wait to be inside of you,” Dean muttered through his rashing breath. “Must feel so warm in there, and you’re so wet, fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

As an answer, she moaned and closed her eyes for a second. But quickly, she set her gaze on him again, even if it had to be the most embarrassing thing she ever did. She wanted to watch him watch her, watch him stroke his cock, watch him cum with her. “Soon… I promise, soon, you’ll have me, you’ll fuck me as much as you want, whenever you want… I'm ah... All yours, Dean..."

"Y/n." Dean could only say that. Again and again, moaning her name as she continued moving on the toy. "Y/n..."

"Dean, I’m gonna cum, oh my god, I’m…”

It was stronger than her. Never before did she come with only a dildo in her, it always took her hands or a vibrator on her clit to reach the end. But right now, in front of her boyfriend masturbating with her, it was too much. It felt so good.

In an explosion of pleasure, her orgasm ripped through her in a scream. She closed her eyes, her body shaking, her wetness flooding under her and on her bed. But she so didn’t care about this right now.

It took a few moments for her to regain her hearing back, and a few more moments to open her eyes. It was strong, and she suddenly felt so tired, like the world came crashing back on her. Feeling like she could sleep for a whole day without waking up.

Y/n landed her eyes on the man in front of her. Dean had his head bent back, eyes closed, mouth parted. Lower, his cock was still a bit hard, and his release was covering his hand.

“Oh,” she said sadly, realizing she didn’t see him cum. At least, they came together.

“Oh,” Dean repeated, finally opening his eyes to land them on her. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and done,” he admitted, a silly smile filling up his face. So he was too, drunk on pleasure.

“Yeah,” she admitted, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. Wow. They did it. They actually did it. Her joy, thought, left her face quickly as she realized something. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Dean immediately went on protective boyfriend mode when he heard the change in her voice.

“I think I…” Y/n’s voice was small, so small and shy as she lifted herself from the spot she was in, removing carefully the dildo from her, and looked at the mess she made. “It never happened before, but now my bed… I don’t think I can use it anymore… Oh no…”

“Sweetheart,” Dean rushed to her side, quickly putting himself back in his pants even if he was messy with his release as well. “It’s alright. There’s plenty of other room in the bunker, with other beds.”

“But,” she stammered, her gaze looking down at her hands. “What if I want to… Use your bed, with you?”

Y/n ended up looking up at him, their gaze meeting.

A soft kiss on her lips answered her question, and all of her insecurities washed away.

“My bed is yours, sweetheart. We can always use this room for your books, I’ll ask Sam to help building shelves and-”

Another kiss, this time, more powerful, interrupted his sentence. “God, I love you so much.”

Babum.

The words he never said back before.

Dean thought they would be hard to say. Impossible, even. But he surprised himself with how easy it actually was.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891 @mimaria420 @this-is-me1 @syrma-sensei

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roosterforme · 9 months

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The Younger Kind Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You should be finishing your school work so you can ace your finals and graduate, but Bradley coaxes you to take a study break at the Hard Deck. While there, Bradley realizes just what life is going to look like with you by his side, and he takes a minute to remind both of you who you belong with. And then he helps you study the way only he can.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

On Friday morning, when Bradley got to work, he walked right over to Nat where she was sipping a coffee in the hangar. Her eyes were wide, clearly anxious to hear some more details about Meredith, but Bradley just walked right into her arms and hugged her.

She kissed his cheek and whispered, "What happened? Aside from the glorious fact that Merebitch has to fuck off now!"

"I'm being deployed."

"No!" she gasped, hugging him tighter as she set down her coffee. "Will you need help with Noah?"

"Nope," he said with a smile as he pulled away from her a few inches. "For once, I got that part covered."

She listened as he told her all about Wednesday in the courtroom and how you agreed to stay at his house the whole time he was deployed. He was in the process of adding you as a temporary guardian for Noah. He was also going to add you to his credit cards as an authorized user, but you were definitely going to protest. If he had any way of getting your social security number, he would have already done it behind your back.

"Oh, I see," Nat replied with a smirk. "Your babysitter is going to be staying with Noah? For six weeks?"

"Girlfriend, actually," Bradley replied smoothly.

Nat looked pleased. "I still maintain that you have me to thank for that. If I hadn't downloaded that dating app on your phone, none of this would have ever happened. Now tell me I'm the best."

Bradley rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. "You're the best, Nat."

"Yes," she agreed. "And I'll help your girlfriend with Noah while you're away. Make sure you tell her to come to me if she needs anything. Anything at all."

"Thanks, Nat," he mumbled as he reached for his helmet. But Bradley knew you'd be just fine. Nat would be a safety net in case you needed something, and that helped put his mind even further at ease.

After a morning of training exercises, Bradley headed inside to eat lunch and check his text messages.

My Princess: Daddy, I'll be on campus until at least 6. Kind of panicking over how much work I still have to complete before graduation.

He knew this was partly his fault. He was the one who hadn't let you return to your little rental so you'd have some peace and quiet away from him and Noah. But you and he both seemed incapable of being apart now. The way he knew how your body felt tucked against his chest in the middle of the night had him desperate to keep you in his bed. And the way Noah was so attached to you, Bradley was convinced he'd start calling you mommy soon.

As he carried his lunch to one of the cafeteria tables, he texted you back to remind you that he'd help you finish up with your school work this weekend. But he also knew you needed to take a break tonight, so he texted someone else as well.

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You were exhausted by the time you got back to Bradley's house on Friday evening. The Bronco was already parked in the driveway, and you noticed that the boys must have played with some sidewalk chalk. As you made your way up to the door, there were pictures of dinosaurs, and Bradley had written We love Princess next to the front porch.

Quickly, you unlocked the front door and called out, "It's me!" Noah came running toward you from the kitchen, and you caught him in your arms.

"Daddy's making dinner," he informed you, and you rushed for the kitchen to investigate.

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said, smiling at you over his shoulder.

You set Noah down on one of the chairs where the table was covered with his coloring books. "You're cooking," you said in shock. "Do you want me to take over?"

"No, I got it," he replied, and you peeked in the pan to see he was making chicken stir fry. "The sexiest woman I ever met taught me how to cook this."

"Oh really? Where is she? I'd love to meet her," you said sarcastically. You were rewarded with Bradley's big hand smacking your rear end before he pulled you closer to him.

He kissed you while the food sizzled on the stovetop, and he murmured, "You had a long day. Let's go out after we eat."

You let his lips linger on yours, enjoying the rough feel of his mustache before he pulled away to focus on what he was cooking. "You want to take Noah out to see a movie or something?" you asked, reaching to pull out some plates. A movie would be really fun, but you also hated the idea of Bradley paying for your ticket along with everything else. He was no longer paying you to babysit Noah. And now that school was ending and you weren't being paid by the college for your work study, you had no income. "Or we could just do something fun here instead?"

"We're going out to the bar," he informed you easily as he turned the stove burner off.

You laughed and put your hands on your hips. "And what about Noah?"

"Got it covered, Princess."

"We actually do need to find him a new babysitter," you reminded Bradley as you glanced at where Noah was quietly folding up construction paper.

"I already did," Bradley promised, kissing your cheek and carrying plates of food to the table. "Amelia Benjamin will be here in about thirty minutes. I wouldn't trust her with Noah for six weeks or anything like that, but I'm sure we can get away for a few hours. Just you and I." He was looking at you intently, waiting for a response. You were honestly surprised he'd managed to set this all up today. "Baby, you need a little break, and Amelia is out of school for the summer," he added softly before he started to blow on Noah's dinner to cool it down.

"I really need to finish my school work," you reminded him as you sat down and tasted his chicken stir fry. It was pretty good, and he smiled as you took another big forkful.

"We have tomorrow and Sunday to work on that. I'll help you."

You were quiet for a moment as you ate. And then all you said in response was, "This is delicious. I can hardly believe you made it."

Bradley set his fork down and took your hand in his. "Come to the bar tonight. Now that I took you out to lunch yesterday, all I can think about is showing you off all the time, okay? Nat will be there, and I kind of already told her we'd be there, too."

"Fine," you said, agreeing with his plans. "But the rest of the weekend, I'll be working."

Bradley's smile held steady through dinner, and when Amelia arrived to watch Noah, he was still excited to be taking you out. You were promised that the evening was casual, so you changed into some jeans that were a little baggy on you and a button down shirt that you tied in the front so it was cropped a little bit. Bradley was in jeans and a colorful floral print shirt, and when he led you out to the Bronco, you offered to drive your car to the bar instead.

He opened the passenger side door of the Bronco and kissed you. "Don't want you wasting your money or gas or anything on me, Princess." And you climbed inside with the realization that you were in a very adult relationship here, and maybe you were in over your head.

--------------------------

Bradley tried to brace himself ahead of time. You were a headturner. Fucking stunning, even in your jeans and beat up Sperrys. But even though you had your fingers laced through his as he led you inside the Hard Deck, you drew the attention of at least half the guys in the place. So he withdrew his hand from yours and slipped his arm around our waist which did essentially nothing to stop the looks he was getting.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, and you looked up at him with such innocent eyes. He pulled you snug against him, and your hand came to rest just above the waistband of his jeans. His cock throbbed for you and that trusting look on your face. You just knew he was going to take care of whatever you needed, and it was going to make him hard if he didn't get control of himself now.

"A beer," you told him, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek next to your ear.

"I see Nat over by the pool table. Why don't you go wait for me over there while I get us some drinks." He squeezed your ass as you turned to walk away from him, earning him a heated gaze over your shoulder. And then he noticed that your eyes caught on something by the bar before you turned back to look at him briefly before you walked to the pool table.

When Bradley turned toward the bar, Helen was there, watching you walk across the crowded room with a scowl before she said, "Rooster," in a bland voice.

He had somehow managed to forget that Helen would be here tonight. Great. "Hey," he said awkwardly before he ordered two beers and watched her expertly pull two pints and slide them across the bar.

"I'll start a tab for you," she said, barely meeting his eyes. "You know, I'm surprised you brought her here. She looks like she's barely legal. And I don't mean that in a nice way. She's probably going to get into some shit." And then Helen turned to help the patron next to him as Bradley's eyes found you.

"Fuck," he grunted. You were leaning back against one of the posts as Harvard and Yale closed in on you. Yale was leaning close enough that you tried to pull away, only to end up pressed against Harvard.

"How old are you, Angel?" Yale asked as Bradley got closer.

You rolled your eyes and said, "I'm twenty four, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped touching me."

Harvard and Yale laughed at the same time, and then Harvard told you, "Maybe you don't know this yet, but girls fight over the chance to come home with us. We're roommates. And we're really good about...sharing."

When you glanced up, your expression was one of extreme annoyance before you met Bradley's eyes and smiled softly. "Then you can share each other," you said before stepping into Bradley's open arms, careful not to bump the beers.

"I see you met my girlfriend," Bradley said, his voice loud and deep as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

He kept his eyes on you while Harvard muttered an excuse and Yale repeatedly said, "Sorry, Rooster," until he was too far away to hear.

"Friends of yours?" you asked, reaching for one of the beers.

"Not really," he replied, watching you take a long sip. "I thought I told you to go wait by Nat."

You licked your glossy lips and said, "And I thought I'd never have to see that flower stealer ever again." You tipped your head toward Helen and held your chin high.

"Flower stealer?" he asked with a smirk.

"I could call her a wannabe homewrecking bitch, but we're in public," you deadpanned, and Bradley actually started laughing.

"Let's go," he said, taking you by the hand as he chuckled, leading you toward the pool table. He watched Nat light up and start asking you a million questions about Meredith and the court appearance even though he had explicitly asked her not to. And of course Jake was here, trying to discreetly check you out.

Bradley wasn't really sure why he had expected this evening to be a nice break for the two of you. He was constantly having to physically touch you in some way, otherwise you got cornered by someone. "Everyone here is so friendly," you remarked after your third beer. Bradley pressed his lips to the sheen of sweat on your pretty neck just as Omaha looked like he might be getting some ideas in his thick skull.

"Yeah," Bradley mumbled. "Or maybe you're just a smokeshow, Baby."

You giggled and asked, "Will you let me go get the next round? I kind of want to see what my buddy Helen has to say to me."

"Go right ahead. Get whatever you want, and put it on my tab."

"You want anything, Daddy?" you asked, rubbing your hand along his abs again, clearly feeling a lot looser than you were two hours ago. He thought about taking you to the bathroom and fucking you as your fingers tucked inside his white undershirt and found his bare skin.

"I want you to go get your drink and get back here quickly," he replied, his voice raspy. "That's what Daddy wants."

He watched you shuffle away after promising him you'd be right back. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Rooster. My man. Where did you pick her up from?" Omaha asked, leaning past Bradley to get a good look at where you were standing at the bar. You had no idea how appealing your ass looked in those jeans, otherwise Bradley was pretty sure you wouldn't be standing like that.

He turned back toward the other aviator and said, "I didn't pick her up from anywhere. She's my girlfriend."

Omaha had the audacity to whistle before he said, "Shit. How long you been hittin' that, old man?"

Bradley felt his hand at his side clench into a fist. He didn't mind the reminder about his age when it came from you, but when it came from someone else, he wanted to start swinging. When you called him old, it was because he couldn't figure out the settings on his phone, something you assured him you found charming. And you weren't a child. You were a capable adult, smarter than pretty much anyone else he knew. But he still just wanted to protect you, even though he knew he didn't have to. The sting of Greyson and Meredith was still too close though, and Bradley had to work at loosening his hand once again.

He was about to tell Omaha to fuck off when he saw you out of the corner of his eye. You were reaching for your drink just as Bradley saw Cyclone of all people reach his hand out to stroke one long finger across the perfect curve of your cheek. You were saying something to Cyclone, and you didn't look too happy. And now both of Bradley's fists were clenched as he watched you duck away from his commanding officer and head his way.

"Oh my goodness," you muttered, sloshing some of your beer onto your hand. But Bradley's gaze was fixed on that of Admiral Beau Simpson as the other man nodded in his direction. "That guy at the bar insisted on buying me a beer as well as a glass of the bourbon he was drinking."

That's when Bradley noticed you were holding two drinks. "Which guy?" he asked, even though he already knew. You turned to look at the bar and nodded toward Cyclone.

"The older one," you muttered before you looked up at Bradley. "He asked me if I was single and insisted on getting me the drinks." You held out the bourbon to him, and he took it.

"What did you tell him?" Bradley asked, fingers tightening around the glass as he felt the weight of your gaze and Cyclone's on him as well.

You licked your lips and said, "I told him I'm here with Bradley Bradshaw, and that he should stop pawing at me."

"Good girl, Princess," Bradley muttered, wrapping one big hand around your waist and pulling you close as he sipped the expensive bourbon courtesy of his boss's boss. Beau Simpson wanted something Bradley had, and the idea of it was enough to make him feel giddy.

"I don't really like this bar very much," you said, an edge of annoyance lacing your tone of voice as you sipped your beer. Bradley let his hand slide down lower and grip your ass, and you did nothing except snuggle in a little closer to him.

But then Bradley tipped the glass of bourbon toward Cyclone and nodded his head in thanks. When Admiral Simpson nodded before letting his gaze dip down along your body, Bradley smirked and downed the rest of the amber liquid. Then his lips were on yours, still wet from the drink. He wanted to mark you, brand you as his own. He wanted to do the filthiest things to you in front of everyone else.

You moaned against his lips, and Bradley took the beer out of your hand so you could wrap your arms around his neck. "What's that for, Daddy?" you asked when his lips found the side of your neck. "Oh, god," you whined as he sucked on you there.

Bradley knew you liked Daddys, and Simpson was older than him. Hell, half the guys at the bar who were looking at you were older than he was. Bradley wanted to make sure everyone knew who you were here with. Maybe he especially wanted to remind you.

So he let you finish the beer from Cyclone while he stood behind you, his big hand splayed across the bare skin of your belly. He kissed the side of your neck and praised you for being a good girl. And if Cyclone happened to be looking in this direction as Bradley's fingers dipped down into the front of your jeans, then so be it. Let him watch. Let everyone else watch as Bradley got his tipsy, twenty four year old girlfriend whining for his cock in the middle of the Hard Deck on a Friday night.

"Daddy," you moaned, grinding back against his erection, back arched as you set down your empty glass. "You're teasing me."

Bradley unbuttoned your jeans as he suggested, "Let's go outside?"

You smiled and bit your lip as you asked him, "Are you going to take me home?"

"Something like that," he replied, leading you toward the bar so he could close out his tab. And if that meant that both Helen and Admiral Simpson got a good look at the way you were coming apart in Bradley's arms while he signed his credit card slip, then that was just fine with him.

---------------------------

You stumbled out into the parking lot while Bradley unzipped your jeans. "Take me home?" you asked before his lips clashed against yours again. He tasted like that free bourbon, and you moaned into his mouth. You were so horny, you'd probably never make it back to Bradley's place at all.

"You want me to take you to my house, Princess? You gonna start calling that home?" he asked, scooping you up in his arms and heading for the pitch black corner of the parking lot where he'd left the Bronco.

"Daddy!" you whined, rubbing your lips all over the scars on his neck. "Take me home to your bed," you demanded, really quite tipsy. You'd never behaved like this before, ready to go in a parking lot, but apparently Bradley could read you like one of your nursing textbooks.

He deposited you next to the Bronco, your feet meeting the ground just a fraction of a second before he spun you to face the passenger side door. His hands felt rough on your body as you reached for the door, your palms braced against the window. Bradley yanked down your jeans and underwear, and you cried out as the cool, night air met your wet pussy.

"Bradley!"

"Shh," he whispered next to your ear. "You want me to fuck you right here, Princess?"

You felt almost ashamed as you gasped, "Yes," but you were so turned on for him, it didn't even matter. He bent you at the hips a little more, and then you felt Bradley thrust inside you in one quick motion. He filled you up so fast, the sensation took your breath away. He didn't give you time to get used to the stretch or to accommodate him before he was fucking you. It felt like he was teaching you a lesson as you tipped your head back and let him suck on your neck.

He nibbled on you before soothing you with his tongue, and you tried to look around, tried to make sure you were alone, but you would probably beg him to keep going even with an audience at this point. He felt that good. The cold glass against your palms was the only thing keeping your body from hitting the Bronco as he fucked you harder.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this," he rasped next to your ear. His voice combined with the sounds of his thighs slapping against yours, the sounds of filthy sex, as you started clenching around his cock.

"Daddy," you whimpered, unable to slow down your building orgasm.

"I'm your Daddy," he growled. "Just me. You're so fucking hot, you know that? Sinful looking. Can't leave you alone for a goddamn second."

"Ohhh," you keened, getting louder for him. He did nothing to stop you.

His words just made you clench harder as he said, "Every guy in that bar wishes he was me right now. Dying to be buried in this tight pussy. They all wanna look at you and touch you, but you're mine." He fucked you harder as he softly said, "You're my Princess."

"Oh!" you gasped, cumming on his cock as he continued to fuck you until you were a moaning, writhing mess. Your legs were shaking, and you felt like you had just wet yourself, but Bradley kept going. He didn't stop until he filled you up with his cum and let it drip down your legs. Then he spun you around and kissed your lips so softly as you leaned back against the door, your head swimming with satiated pleasure.

Bradley's hot cum cooled on your inner thighs, sending a chill through your body. He took his time pulling your jeans back up, and then he was helping you onto the passenger seat with the promise that he'd take care of you again when he got you home and sent Amelia away for the night. And the thing was, you'd definitely let him keep that promise.

-----------------------------

When Bradley woke up to an empty bed and a quiet house on Saturday morning, he was instantly alert. He'd slept in, and something didn't feel right. He jumped out of bed, and when he rushed to Noah's bedroom door, he found his son's room was empty.

"Noah? Princess?" he called out, continuing to the kitchen in just his underwear.

"Hi, Daddy," Noah said, looking up at him and spilling a forkful of scrambled egg onto the floor. Bradley contemplated getting a dog just to clean up the food messes Noah made, but a pet would only be something else he had to worry about when he was deployed.

"Hi, Daddy," you echoed from the seat across the table. You had your kid friendly playlist going, and you were reading from one of your textbooks, but you glanced up at him and smiled. You looked tired, and now Bradley felt bad for keeping you up half the night with his cock buried inside you. The Hard Deck had been a massive wakeup call for him. He was going to have to work hard to keep you. That much was obvious now. But you also needed the rest of the weekend to get yourself organized, and that was something he could help with.

He kissed Noah's forehead and then yours. "You want some coffee?" he asked you softly, and you nodded in response. He would take care of anything you needed, but he knew you wouldn't let him provide for you. Hell, you hadn't given him a real answer about moving in here, even though he'd asked and dropped hints. He wanted you here all the time. He couldn't stop thinking about what it might be like to get you pregnant ever since the idea was planted in his head on Wednesday.

As he worked the coffee maker to get you a vanilla latte just the way you liked it, he watched you cut some of the fruit in Noah's bowl into smaller pieces. And when Noah climbed into your lap, you didn't make a fuss that he was interrupting you.

"I'll take him out for the day, maybe do some grocery shopping while you work," he told you, his tone apologetic. "And then tonight, after bedtime, I'm all yours, Princess. We'll get everything done."

You kissed Noah's cheek and said, "I made you a grocery list. We're almost out of Skittles already. You boys can go to the store while you're out, and then I'll make dinner later."

Bradley wanted to protest, he really did, but he also wanted to eat one of your homemade dinners. So he got Noah dressed for the day and took him to the playground and then on a nature walk and then to the grocery store. He kept him out of your hair for hours and hours, and when he got home that afternoon, he carried a napping Noah into his bed.

You were sitting at the kitchen table wearing Bradley's gray sweatpants and one of his shirts, and you were typing away on his computer. He found himself entranced by your purple nail polish and calm exterior. He didn't disrupt you while he unpacked the groceries, he just set one of the many bags of Skittles he purchased on the table next to you. "Love you," he whispered, and you looked up at him with a little smirk as you opened your snack of choice. "You don't even have to share that bag with me."

"Thanks, Daddy." And that was all you said to him until you stood up and stretched a few hours later and started to make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, because Noah started bugging about it.

"Let's give Princess a break, Bub. I'll make the ants on the logs today, and you can help me." It took Bradley just as long to cut up the carrots and spread the peanut butter as it did for you to make an actual meal, but as he watched Noah decorate them with raisins, Bradley felt a certain level of accomplishment.

He knew how to cook now, kind of. He could make healthy snacks that Noah actually liked, sort of. And most importantly, he had managed to start a relationship with a woman who not only loved him, but loved his son as well.

"Here you go," you announced, setting plates of dinner down in front of both of them.

"Yay!" Noah cheered, and Bradley had to stop him from reaching for the hot food.

"Listen," Bradley said between bites of food. "Early bedtime tonight after a nice bath. And then tomorrow night we'll have a family movie night. We can go to the theater that serves dinner at your seat so we don't have to cook anything here."

"But that place is expensive," you protested. "And I still have to finish studying for my final on Monday."

"We'll study tonight," Bradley promised. "And the fancy movie theater isn't too expensive for my family."

----------------------------

You insisted on being the one to put Noah in bed when he finished his bath. After working for twelve hours straight on school assignments, you needed a little break, and some hugs from Noah really did the trick.

Once he was tucked in, you knew you needed to study for your anatomy final, but all you wanted was a glass of wine and a hot shower with your hot boyfriend. You found him in the living room, rooting through the drawers underneath the stereo system that must have belonged to his parents.

"Oh my goodness," you teased, gasping as he looked up at you. "Are those cassette tapes? Are you sure you're only thirty six?"

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, pulling you toward the couch. "Almost thirty seven, actually. You know, I was going to play something I thought you might like while we study, but nevermind."

"Wait, I take it back, I take it back!" you protested, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Play it for me. Please?"

"Fine," he groaned, running his hands down your sides and bending to kiss you. "But only because I'm in a good mood." Then he started to play the tape, and you noticed that he already had your textbook and a fresh bag of Skittles waiting on the couch.

"Thanks for doing this," you whispered, watching as he settled down and patted his thigh.

"Come here," he coaxed as the mellow rock music played softly, and you were surprised to find you knew the band. "I like studying with you," he said with a grin as you settled onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

As he tore open the bag of Skittles, you reminded him, "I'll be looking for a job soon. No more studying."

"Gotta make this count then," he replied, pulling a red Skittle out and feeding it to you. "Fifty percent of the Skittles are mine. You can earn your share by answering questions correctly from your study guide."

You scoffed and ran your fingers through his hair. "I should get a more generous share of the goods tonight. As a reward for all my hard work."

He grunted and rolled his eyes. "Fine. You can have sixty percent. But just for tonight. Tomorrow we go back to a fifty/fifty split."

"Deal," you whispered, kissing his lips.

And it was all so gentle, the way Bradley fed you a yellow Skittle and then a purple one as he went down the study guide, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your thigh through the gray sweatpants. Anytime you needed an extra minute to consider your answer, you pulled your fingers through his hair and down his neck as you contemplated.

"You know this one, Princess. I know you do."

Every time he encouraged you, giving your hip a little squeeze, you got the right answer. And then you got a Skittle. And then you got a kiss.

"Will you come with me to my exam on Monday morning?" you asked him softly, your head coming to rest on his shoulder once the candy was all eaten. "I don't think I can do it without you there."

He kissed your forehead and held you close. "Sure you can, Baby. You'll ace it. Besides, I have to meet with Tracy and get everything settled. You don't need me at all."

But that was a lie. You did need him. You needed him. And Noah. "I do," you whispered, your lips brushing his neck. "I need you, Bradley."

"You already have me."

--------------------------

Cyclone, you dirty dog. Inching closer to this deployment. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 28

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queers-gambit · 5 months

Text

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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opreaadriann · 2 months

Text

High School Revenge

High School Revenge is an interactive fiction game set in the scariest imaginable location: high school. In this game, you will get to play as a teenager that was betrayed by his best friends and classmates 7 years ago, and get to come back to their high school, with a completely different look, preparing your revenge on them, Count of Monte-Cristo style. You will get to live a full academic year alongside your 8 targets, as you befriend, betray, and even romance them to get what you want. Will you forgive them after learning of their reasons or will you go through with your sweet, sweet revenge? The current version of the demo is 51k words.

Demo

The game is still a work-in-progress, so any suggestions are appreciated! If you find any bugs or issues, make sure to mention them.

Other places where you can follow the project or support me:

X/Twitter COG Forum Patreon

Features:

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Romance your 6 childhood bullies, your 2 childhood friends, or hidden allies.

Live the tragic childhood events that lead to the worst day of your life and decide how everything went down.

Almost all targets will have deep secrets that you’ll have to discover throughout the story and use against them.

Pretend to be a charismatic popular kid, a likeable klutz, a rebel that goes against the norm, or the edgy, silent type.

Lie, charm, spy, blackmail, everything is on the table to get your revenge. There is no “good” way to learn the targets’ secrets and there’s no perfect way to get the job done.

Your stats will almost never affect your capability to get revenge. All that will make a real difference will be your relationship with all the characters.

Spend a full academic year getting to know your targets, interacting with them through random events, relationship events, or hobby events, similar to a Persona game.

Romance Options:

Targets

Dylan Evans

The first friend the MC ever made, Dylan was once just a nerdy Asian kid with big square glasses, playing video games with you every single day. However, as time passed, he turned into a social media influencer, garnering over tens of thousands of likes on every post.

With an incredibly fake smile, Dylan manages to turn most people into his followers, as his strategy to suck up to the rest of the students seems to work quite well.

Though he seems to be quite irredeemable, you do remember him being a selfless kid with a big heart. There are so many memories with him helping you out whenever he could, being the only person you could confide in. What could have made him turn against you when you needed him most?

Olivia Hartley

If your MC had to choose the most unlikely person to ever do them wrong, then Olivia would be their first choice. Strong willed and incredibly sarcastic, this raven-haired tall girl has remained exactly the same 7 years later.

And yet, she did betray you on the day of the Tragedy, giving secret information to your bullies and allowing you to fall victim to their prank… What could have been her reason?

Olivia is an incredibly intuitive person, with a quick mind and a powerful personality to boot. Someone like her will likely be a huge challenge in the upcoming revenge, but not even her can stop this mastermind.

Michael Knox

This tall, dark, and handsome captain of the Baseball team can be, depending on your choices, the person that tricked you into falling in love with him, only to publicly humiliate you in front of the whole school.

He is an incredibly talented athlete with a very arrogant attitude, assuming that the world belongs to him. With a very rich dad to support him, nothing has ever gone wrong in his life, if we were to ignore his mother’s death during his birth.

Can he be considered one of the main antagonists of this story or is he just a secret follower that only followed orders during the Tragedy?

Cecily Knight

Ah yes, Cecily Knight. Everyone, everywhere knows who Cecily Knight is. This petite blue-eyed blonde is the captain of the swimming team, and regularly publicly humiliates anyone that attempts to get to know her romantically.

With such a strong reputation, Cecily manages to order around anyone in the school with ease, as they all lower their heads when she passes them on the hallways.

However, observing her more closely can reveal that she is much more docile with her friends and loved ones. Is she actually an ice queen or is it all a facade to protect herself?

Connor Cobb

With his long blond hair and piercing smile, Connor tends to attract every girl that passes his way. However, he manages to make them all leave once he opens his mouth, as his desperation can be seen from miles away.

As the star guitarist of The Fighting Rooster, Connor is an incredibly talented individual that planned the whole part of the Tragedy where they befriended you first before destroying your life.

Though he seems like a total idiot, looking into his life seems to reveal that there is more to him than just this fake persona he shows everyone. With 3 younger siblings, Connor seems to have a lot on his shoulders as many in his family look up to him.

Isaac Freeman

With his curly red locks and emerald eyes, Isaac manages to trick many people into thinking he is someone they would like to get to know. As the mastermind behind the Tragedy, he is the worst out of all the people on this list.

It is quite common for him, even 7 years later, to bully students so badly that they decide to move schools. By observing his behavior, it seems that all he cares about is being thoroughly entertained.

Either make him laugh, do something outrageous, or get out of his way, as he will do his best to make every day more interesting than the last.

Vivian Porter

Vivian turned from Isaac’s best friend in her childhood to Dylan’s current confidant. With a seemingly perfect appearance and an endless wardrobe, Vivian manages to impress anyone that sees her pass by.

She is incredibly empathic, being able to tell what anyone is feeling at a glance, allowing her to use this skill to make anyone fall for her ambitious tricks.

Is she just someone that just made a mistake during childhood or are her intentions impure at this age as well?

Haley Freeman

As Isaac’s twin sister, nobody would expect her to be the biggest goody two shoes the world has ever seen. Seemingly stuttering her way through most conversations, people usually tend to forget she even exists.

This curvy redhead has a deep passion for painting, as she spends most of her time in the school gardens, capturing the view.

Is there more to Isaac’s sister than meets the eye or is she just another victim of Isaac’s abuse?

Allies

Angela Slone

A swimmer with long, brown hair, Angela is part of the team alongside Cecily. After being bullied into submission by the harpy, she reluctantly decides to help the MC carry out their revenge against their many targets.

With a bubbly personality and a merciful soul, Angela is possibly the worst ally for this revenge you could find. However, this doesn’t mean she can’t be tricked into giving you what you want.

Marcus Parmer

Marcus has led a horrible life during high school. Being diagnosed with a medical condition forcing him to go bald, he has been constantly bullied by Isaac ever since he joined the Baseball team.

He is much more serious than any of the allies you can find in the school, but he isn’t the most capable person for the job. He is, however, excited to help you get rid of the scum pretending to be students in his school.

#interactive fiction #choicescript #interactive game #romance #high school revenge #dashingdon #if wip

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paperlunamoth · 1 year

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"No one is conflating gender with sex!"

Yes you are. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you would say you were "masculine to feminine" and not "male to female." If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be using the term "assigned male/female at birth" to decribe the gender assigned to a person because of their sex. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be pushing to have the words "male and female," which are the only terms we have to refer to sex specifically, redefined to mean "person who identifies as belonging to the masculine/feminine gender." If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't so consistently act as though masculinity is what makes someone male and femininity is what makes someone female. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be saying that transgender people need access opposite sex hormones. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be calling surgery to make your genitals more resemble those of the opposite sex gender confirmation surgery. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be bothered by your legal sex being different from your gender. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be demanding access to single sex spaces on the basis of your gender. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be upset when homosexual people don't want to sleep with you because of your sex and not your gender. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't consider sexual dysphoria to be part of being transgender. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you would be distinguishing between people who are transsexual and people who are transgender, and you would have invented a separate word by now for people who are both, instead of using "transgender" to mean both or either. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be pushing the idea that sex is nonbinary, arbitrary, debatable, and a social construct in order to make how people think about it more closely resemble how they think about gender. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then you wouldn't be claiming that gender identity is an innate and immutable part of a person's biology present at birth, just like sex, despite the fact that gender is a social construct and so by definition can't be inherent to a person based on their biological traits. If you weren't conflating gender with sex, then when you argue that some people have the brain of the opposite sex, and thus are neurologically a different sex from what they are physically, you'd be using that to legitimize transsexualism and not transgenderedness (and even if we could easily and reliably identify the sex of a person's brain, that should be assumed to tell us nothing about their gender identity, since sex and gender are different things, right?). If you didn't equate gender with sex, then you wouldn't go to such great lengths to obscure the fact that most binary-identifying transgender people are also transsexual, that they want to belong to the opposite sex and not just the opposite gender, and that they want to adopt the gender associated with the opposite sex specifically because it would make them feel more like they belong to that sex.

It doesn't how matter how often or how vehemently you claim otherwise, you absolutely do conflate gender with sex, and it is one of the main reasons we take issue with your ideology in the first place. Women around the world and throughout human history have fought and bled and died for the idea that femininity, or a "feminine essence," is not what defines what it means to be a woman, for the idea that people of the female sex are oppressed on the basis of their sex and deserve not to be oppressed on the basis of their sex, and you people spit and piss on their graves and call feminism "regressive" while waving a flag with pink stripes for girls and blue stripes for boys.

#transgender #gender #gender critical #feminism #radical feminism #radfem #radblr #rant

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wilwheaton · 1 year

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”Why do racists always invoke MLK…?”

This is a comment from Reddit. I swear to god, it’s like the redditor who wrote this transcribed all the shit my racist, entitled, privileged, Boomer parents said my entire childhood. Like, word for word.

”Why do racists always invoke MLK…?”

First, you gotta understand their position, which is “Racism doesn’t exist anymore”. Because black people aren’t lynched, because there are wealthy rappers and basketball players, and because there was a black president, racism doesn’t exist in the US anymore. And this is especially important; when black people get upset about their lot in life, it is because they are lazy and want a handout rather than earning their way like white people do. When a black guy is killed by cops, he was a criminal and deserved his fate. When a black woman loses her access to food stamps, it is because she was taking advantage of the system. When black people get into college, it is because they are given special privilege they didn’t earn. And when black folks talk about reparations, it is because they want to punish innocent people so they can be handed their success rather than earn it.

Because there is no racism, and anytime some white person is called a racist it is likely because they don’t support simply handing success and money over to people who haven’t earned it, and not at all because they act racist in any way. And the term “racist” has become toxic in the US lately; people lose their jobs after being called racists unfairly. Heck, one could suggest minorities call white folks “racist” in retaliation, knowing there will be social consequences which are completely unearned. So to combat this unfair and, in their view inaccurate, narrative they employ a couple tactics;

1) “I’m not racist, you are for even suggesting it”. Since racism is defacto non-existent, playing the race-card is introducing a factor that doesn’t belong. When a black person calls a white person racist, they are not only lying, but specifically targeting someone based on their race and falsely labeling them something socially toxic with intent to cause harm. And the white person is defacto innocent because they would see anyone as insert accusation here, not just black/brown/gay/muslim/female/handicapped/immigrant people.

2) “Black people don’t know how good they have it”. Classic myopic delusion that assumes the complete lack of racism in the US also means any ongoing hurdles faced by black/brown/gay/women/etc people are their own fault. The fears behind CRT are great examples of the struggle to maintain this delusion, and not have people delve too deeply into history and see how cause/effect resulted in the current socio-economic imbalance. And since there are successes in the black community, that is proof that racism is over. Black folks had a black president, now shut up and stop making waves. There is an attempt to show that any calls of racism are not only unfounded, but examples of success in the black community disprove systemic racism; wouldn’t MLK be proud? And not only proud of the success, but would side with the white folks who are now experiencing reverse-racism as the lazy black folks ask for more. Racism, they think, is simply targeting another race purposefully, and has nothing to do with power imbalance.

3) “I earned my success, so black folks need to earn theirs”. And this is the crux of it all; white folks today don’t believe they are in a position of privilege because they work hard and their success was difficult. Many of them come from poor families, struggled to pay for college, don’t have a family history of slaver ownership. They see any minorities complaining as trying to get privilege unearned. They assume that, because there is no more racism, there is balance and parity among the races. Illegal immigrants are trying to circumvent the law, reparations and affirmative-action programs are unearned handouts, and special months/parades celebrating a particular group/race is promoting racism by giving them special attention they don’t deserve. Many white people see themselves as victims because they don’t receive any overt benefits from being white, meanwhile minorities are showered with unearned benefits all the time. The Great Replacement Theory is constantly being reenforced for them as they watch society take the side of minorities anytime someone attempts to call out this apparent imbalance in their favor.

But underneath all of this is the undeniable knowledge that they are, indeed, racist. Whether it is a jealousy, or a fear of socio-economic parity, or ethnocentricity, they know that society isn’t accepting overt racism anymore. And because of this, they have to hold back, watch what they say, watch how they treat people. “Make America Great Again” was a call to return to a time when casual racism was fun, and didn’t mean anything, and people weren’t so thin-skinned. Being “Woke” is forcing people to take difficult looks at the fact racism still exists, which is uncomfortable and threatens to challenge the current socio-economic stability, so terms like “woke” are being dismantled, misused, redirected into something that seems illegitimate. There is an active, desperate avoidance of acknowledging racism still exists, because admitting otherwise means admitting their world-view is wrong. invoking MLK isn’t done out of malicious intent, but out of desperate denial of a world that doesn’t fit their assumptions. Many, perhaps most, white folks in the US have no consciously ill will towards minorities, and would recoil in distaste at the notion of being considered racist. And they will spend all day explaining why they are perfectly justified in accepting a racist position on a topic and how that doesn’t make them racist because the minorities in question are to blame. Deflection. Denial. Dismissal. And then vote to prevent change.

(Source)

#racists #racism #uspol

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eldritch-spouse · 4 months

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Remember this?

Here's a guy that's definitely not meant to be on Earth.

Somewhere, the forces that be botch a massive specimen transportation operation from planet A to planet B. A series of system failures occurs, and strangely shaped pods are ejected into the vast nothingness of space. One of said pods contains a lifeform belonging to a species that was meant to be studied in detail, except instead of landing safely where it should, this pod crashes directly into Earth, thankfully away from civilization.

The creature inside is largely very disoriented upon their arrival, more than that, it's dying. The atmosphere around it won't allow the lifeform to breathe properly, so it crawls and wheezes its way over to a river and stuffs its head in it, finally recovering. That's exactly how they're found too...

Held in a highly specialized infrastructure, while not exactly being badly mistreated, this extraterrestrial is being documented extensively. Some curious things have been found.

They're intelligent. Although an undeniable and difficult to circumvent language barrier is very much present, it's evident that the lifeform can reason in a similar manner to humans, displaying this early on by remaining calm and mostly pliant next to armed humans, understanding that these others could hurt them without needing many hints;

They're social. The lifeform has responded to attempts at social interaction with its own strategies, and seems to have two main methods of vocalizing, primarily through the cavities in its chest. The larger, top depressions seem to emit rough, branch-like noises, while the smaller orifices produce melodious signals, both of these combine to create a very peculiar and complex language;

He's a male. Observed when the specimen opened his own absurdly long slit, at the (slightly forceful) request of investigators, exposing a myriad of genital appendages particularly associated with males. Not all of them are capable of ejaculation, and some seem to be purely auxiliary to the task of mating, leading to a lot of speculation regaining the anatomy and practices of females of the species;

The filament on his head is a mood indicator that will glow a variety of hues at different intervals to transmit messages;

The buds on his pelvic area are erogenous zones;

The protrusions on his forearms are residual;

Although the lifeform doesn't display a demanding sex drive, when they find someone they deem compatible and attractive, the ensuing mating session tends to last several hours. It's theorized that, if left uninterrupted, the specimen would attempt to mate their partner for more than 24h;

Unfortunately, the concept of naming oneself isn't exactly something he can grasp very easily, so there's neither a title nor a preferred method of addressing the lifeform. Curiously, they tend to have an innate ability to tell when they're being talked to, talked about or even thought of;

He's been nicknamed "Tentatris" and "Tetrils" due to how wildly confusing it is for investigators to try and decipher his anatomy, likening it to the organism equivalent of a tetris puzzle.

#pinnie's art #monsterfucker #alien boyfriend #terato #monster oc #monster boyfriend #terat0philliac #minors dni #not sfw #nsft #Tetrils oc

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wroteclassicaly · 11 months

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Walk Until You Belong

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Amongst confusing and mixed up words, you think you realize where you really stand, with those who matter the most to you, particularly Eddie Munson.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, teases Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, anxiety, panic attack, extreme self-esteem issues, HEAVY on the angst, no happy ending (this one hurts, folks), Eddie is mean with his words, depression, & extremely (be warned) sad thoughts.

A/N: This thought randomly came to me in the car today, then proceeded to poke and prod at me until I wrote it down/out. This is what came of it, and it’s a product of mind mindset, as of lately. Please read the warnings and air with caution, because it’s meant to work out my own feelings, and as of now, there’s no second part planned and there isn’t a happy ending here. I leave it open-ended. Just know, this piece is really vulnerable to me, and I’m not gonna and say I didn’t cry a little while writing this, so I feel like it’s a personal breakthrough, and I wanna share it with you all ❤️♥️

Sidenote: Using the nickname of Princess in this fic, instead of Y/N. Also, Eddie isn’t nice in this. He’s not exactly awfully, openly mean, but his words are pretty cruel. So… be warned! Nancy makes an appearance as well!

You didn’t really peg Eddie Munson for a mean person. Intimidating, sure, tough because he needed to be - yeah. But outright cold and as nasty as his former bullies? You stand frozen, back against the cool wall of the hospital corridor. They’re still talking, bonding, two completely different people that never knew one another three months ago, yet they’re making it work. You’ve known the entirety of the party since this whole underworld shit began, roped in by being Dustin’s neighbor and giving him rides home from Hellfire for his mom.

No one ever called you outside of the world ending, outside of you taking a kid some place, bringing your random gifts, lending an ear on the phone when the trauma got too much. You weren’t invited to their gatherings, you weren’t in on their inside jokes, but you figured if you made yourself more approachable, more social. And seeing how they welcomed Eddie, someone you had admired since your freshman year - you were sure it was gonna work, that you were slowly being accepted. You helped defeat monsters and evil men, dark creatures, and underworlds. It was you who helped Steve Harrington drag Eddie’s bleeding and mauled body back into your world.

Since that night three months ago, you have done everything to help him. Brought his school work so he could graduate, promised to hand deliver his diploma if he wasn’t strong enough by mid June to walk across that stage, even saying you’d flip Higgins the double bird for him. You tried to help him plan campaigns, you bought him several tapes, and most recently - you’d taken up a magazine subscription of his favorite metal scene, just so he would have all copies. He was always so boisterous, making you melt and smile, and you wanted to help put some light back into his eyes after he’d lost a lot of that sparkle. The issue you got in the mail today, it looked promising, making you eager to take it to him on your lunch break from the video store.

Recently able to fight off your anxieties and getting into the workplace to cover shifts for Steve as he healed, you had extra money to spare and a pep in your step. But when you had reached Eddie’s room door in the hospital, Steve’s voice had halted you. You’d pressed your back aside and out of view, a smile on your lips as they mentioned you. They were gonna be your friends, maybe Eddie would even show you what certain things meant in the magazine, what he liked about their scene, his scene. You wanted to know so much about him, but could never muster the courage to ask.

“I thought the Princess was coming by today?” Your nickname. Not one in malice, but one gifted by your peers for your love of literature. It extended to everyone, apparently.

Your heart leapt, pulse in your throat, eyes casting down at the glossy cover in excitement. And then Eddie had sighed deeply, as if he was in pain. You were prepared to go and get a nurse, when he speaks out, “Seriously, dude?”

Your brows had knit in confusion, a gnawing starting in your stomach, a coolness chilling in your muscles, scraping apart your veins and brimming them full of ice. Steve confirmed, causing you to step back further out of sight. You should’ve left immediately, because you knew you were not going to be able to handle what Eddie’s reply would be, what you fooled yourself into thinking wouldn’t happen.

“What if I pretend to be asleep? Think she’ll leave and go bother someone else?”

A sharp ache pries apart your ribcage and fills it with hot ash, wafting smoke from the destruction suffocating your throat. The first wave of tears prickles your sclera, clouding your vision as your head bows.

“Munson…” Steve sighs.

“Listen, Harrington, I know I’m a freak, man, but she’s just weird. She doesn’t even know me and she subscribed to a magazine I have, just to bring me the issues. She tries to get involved in my campaigns. I know she drives Henderson around and that she’s fought all that nasty shit with you guys, but like… She’s not even in your ensemble of friends, is she?”

Your entire lifetime of actions involving them all flash in the forefront of your mind, and everything you went through by their sides.Have you done anything so out of the ordinary that none of them haven’t? You’re not loud, not like Eddie is, you’re not extremely quirky. You were sure you weren’t bothering anyone when you started being more vocal. Salt. You taste its first humiliating tang hit your lips, your tears free flowing.

“Not really.” Is what Steve responds with, prying back your subconscious with a crowbar and letting reality crack your skull open to let your insecurities flood you until you begin to feel the beginning stages of dissociating panic.

More than two years and you’re still considered a nobody to people you fought beside and nearly died for. People you convinced yourself that they just needed to know you, to see, and they would care about you just as much as you care about them. You realize, however, with a sickening irony, that Vecna must have been fooled by your sated mindset, thinking you weren’t alone and that you were happy, or he would’ve targeted you instead of someone else. And that part, the deep part that’s engraved into your DNA, rooted to every cell and particle, it bites back thoughts you try not to pin on yourself. Maybe he should’ve.

“Hey, Princess, what’s going on?” Her sweet perfume and her soft demeanor make your body feel like it’s weighted down, caught and unable to escape. You don’t look at her yet, turning your head to attempt (pathetically) to wipe your tears and clear your vision.

Steve and Eddie hear and the conversation is halted, their smiles happy and comfortable. But even as you bypass Nancy’s concerned looks, her question at your obviously panicked expression, forcing yourself to walk into the room with her to save face — you aren’t buying either boy’s look. It’s not you they’re happy to see. You shift, a discomfort squeezing your sternum and extending into your guts, anxiety using your esophagus as a trampoline and tempting your food to expel. You feel as if you’re not even here, that this isn’t real, that it’s a nightmare bigger than anything you’ve ever faced.

Dealing with demons and evil creatures that only existed in storybooks is one thing, but doing it alone, knowing that that’s all you’ve ever truly been… it’s worse than when you automatically followed Nancy into that rift to save Steve. No one called you after Vecna, sans one simple call from Steve to ask if you needed anything. But that was it. Your brain snaps back, still able to get you as you’re not all here. King Steve hated you, and not even this kind version cares for you.

You’ve kept the magazine at your side so far, and you let it fold in your tight grip, crushing and crumbling the pages, voice becoming weak and breathless as Steve asks why you’re here, a grin on his face, knowing already. Fuck this. You’re drowning and you need to get the fuck out of here.

“I have to go. I’m… I gotta go, I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, shatters your facade, and you don’t look at anyone.

Nancy leans out as you move quicker down the hallway, faster than anticipated. She watches your arm elongate and toss something into one of the janitorial cart’s trash cans.

“What the hell was that about?” Steve is confused, Eddie bewildered.

“I was gonna ask you guys. She looked upset before we even came in here,” Nancy responds.

“Didn’t you two walk in together? Maybe somebody bothered her, or she saw something?” Steve questions once more.

“We all agreed to give her space, just like we always do. So no, I didn’t want to crowd her. She was already here anyway, just standing outside the door and looking… I don’t know, lost? I’ve never seen the expression that was on her face before.”

Eddie feels as if something else entirely has re-stripped his recently healed skin. Steve swallows harshly and fixes Eddie with an immediate glare, both sharing realization and regret.

“She just trashed some magazine, maybe it was because of that —“

“Shit. Fuck, man.” Eddie finally speaks, starting to lift his upper body, his underused limbs protesting, stitched skin screaming.

“Stop, I’ll go, okay?” Steve interjects, resting bitch face activated and his jaw clenching, upset he let himself say what he did, and is already out the door, leaving Eddie to explain to the ever inquisitive Nancy Wheeler and her journalistic heart and soul.

By the time Steve catches up to you, jogging and slightly out of breath, he isn’t prepared to share his ex’s sentiment on your tormented expression. You look… demolished, haunted. Steve has felt it, a fragment of what bullshit you must be feeling, given what you’ve just heard. He’s done a lot of things, but he’s never felt more like an asshole than he does now, staring at your trembling hands that drop your car keys twice, your eyes so full of tears he wonders how you were even able to see to get out of the building and into the parking lot. He has the sudden overwhelming urge to wrap you into his arms and hold you. So he lets his instincts go and attempts to reach out.

You sound strangely reserved, settled. You smile sadly, wiping at your eyes, the skin raw and overheated. “No. I understand, okay. I got it. I really do. I’m fine.”

“Princess, you don’t have to —“

A beeping sounds off between the two of you, your fingers reaching into your belt loop and unclipping the beeper after a quick glance. You still don’t look at Steve. He can feel his own irises becoming shrouded with tears, his chest being clawed apart and dug into. It hurt more than any hive mind bats or Russian torture. You sidestep away from him, mumbling. “It’s Keith. I have to go.”

“It’s my shift, Princess,” Steve grasps your wrist in his big palm and squeezes, trying to pull you back to him, to convey, to express. He cares. He didn’t mean it in the way that you thought, “Please?”

You jerk yourself away from him. You look angry now, and wipe your nose at the same time Steve does - water finding his lash line.

“I took the shift. It’s fine. Goodnight.”

You’re falling apart as you turn around again, not permitting yourself to watch Steve and his attempts to amuse your anguish with pity - standing in the parking lot, wiping at his nose continuously, in your rear view.

Steve grits his teeth as the tears drip onto his cheeks, his hands running up into and through his hair. They beyond fucked up…

// Eat me paragraph //

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josephquinnswhore · 2 months

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Watchful Eyes

Pairing: Joel Miller! Stalker boyfriend! x female reader

Summary: Joel hates when you go drinking.

Content Warning: shit writing, I’m drunk soooooo, stalker boyfriend Joel, reader is female and drinks alcohol, not seeing red flags.

Note: I’m drunk and this is trash.

Joel hated this—your one day of the two of you not working; and yet you’d insisted on seeing your friend, your best friend. You insisted. Pleaded, tried to make him see reason, that this was worth it, for you.. it was something that you’d hardly ever got to do. The stress of work and trying to keep a healthy relationship was diffficult, and Joel knew the struggle too.

He had to unlearn how to check your location, eyes lingering on the text chat where you’d messaged fifteen minutes ago stating you loved him. But did you really, if you’d not replied to his message. Could he really change his habits? Probably not.

12am rolls around and still no sign of you.

“Call me baby. Where are you?” You were drinking with your friend, of course a few others, all female, which he was thankful for. But that wasn’t enough to stop his mind from wondering. Maybe you’d explore something about yourself if only surrounded by women.

“Got some people coming over. Talk soon!” You texted back as normally as you could, thanks to auto correct.

He growls at the text, why in the world would you message him something so vague, who was coming over, when, were you going somewhere? When would you be home? Were there going to be men? He dreaded it, the anxiety and insecurity he faced as being with someone as beautiful as you.

“Fuckin Jesus Christ!” He cursed to himself, as his fists slammed onto the recliner he sat on. He trusted you, of course he did. You were a sweet woman, a loyal and wonderful women who had never given him a reason to ever doubt him. So why did he?

He didn’t trust a single soul to care for his girl. Especially while she was under the influence.. vulnerable.

As he started his car, he thought of every reason to excuse his irrational behaviour. He wanted to make sure you were safe, cared for, that no one were trying to grab onto you with their venomous hands. “Need to make sure you’re okay.” He murmured as his truck roared to life. Like all of his actions would be excused somehow if he said it aloud.

It’s almost humourous, how close you lived to your friend. Less than two minutes drive, a few streets away.. but he knew they would recognise his car, it was blantanly obvious, a white pickup with all of his construction gear on the back. So he turns the truck off and the lights, letting it roll down the hill until he can see you, standing on the balcony with a drink in your hand.

Only then does he pull the hand break as quietly as he can. He readjusts his blue cap so that he can tuck his stray curls under them, they’re unruly, and blocking whatever vision he has of you… finally.

You’re laughing. Of course you are, you’re a social creature when you drink, a few friends surround you as you make them all laugh. God he’s jealous—no, envious. Why couldn’t it be him? Hearing your sweet laugh and seeing those wonderful eyes staring into his own as he hears whatever you’ve said is so funny.

He texts you again, he can see your friends frown, and complain about how clingy he is, how you have no freedom where Joel is concerned. “Oh shut it you guys he loves me!” You excuse his behaviour and frown as you read the text.

“Oh.. Joel’s sick. I need to get him to the hospital. It could be his heart.” Your friends all give each other a look. You’re frantically packing your belongings before they could protest and Joel drives the short way home, getting into bed before you even start your car to drive home.

“Joel?” You call out wearily. He coughs and murmurs distantly.. “baby?”

Mad, you see him, your heart drops, his cheeks are stained with tears and his hand is clutching his chest. “Oh baby you look like you’re really struggling.” He can only nod at her shoulder as you come closer.

“It’s better now that you’re here. Thank you for coming. I really thought I was a goner..”

Fingers caress his outgrowing stubble.. “I’m here baby. Let’s get to bed.”

The alcohol still flowed through you—your veins, but you were holding him, and he’d never let you know that he smiled as you lie behind him, tucking him under the fleece blanket.

Joel was a bad man, and he loved it. For as long as you were his, he would do anything it took to keep you safe.

#anyway I’m absolutely plastered #drunk writing drunk rambles #imagine Joel #stalker Joel #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #female x reader #Joel miller fanfic

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incense-and-nonsense · 4 months

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Finished watching Arcane last night and I have some thoughts about Ambessa Medara that I need to get out of my system.

What I find fascinating about Ambessa as a character is the fanbase's reception of her: she's a big muscle mommy with a hidden soft side. However, I don't think the show's writers want us to like her and especially don't intend to portray her as an attractive person. The reason I think this is because (aside from her gender) she's a textbook example of a toxic, hypermasculine, alpha-male power fantasy.

Let's elaborate. Only a few minutes after we're introduced to her (having invited herself into her estranged daughter's world in a display of Emotionally-Healthy Parenting TM), she announces that she's off to "sample the local cuisine," gesturing towards a male consort/companion who awaits her.

And then there's this scene:

Here we are shown Ambessa naked in a bath being massaged by the same comparatively small companion we met earlier. The power dynamic in the relationship is clearly one of domination and submission. She's indulgent in her consumption and luxury and lobs criticism after criticism at a visibly uncomfortable Jayce, all while the artwork behind the two reinforces how this exchange will play out: Ambessa holds all the power, while Jayce is on the defensive.

In short, everything about the way Ambessa talks and carries herself is meant to convey one simple message: I am powerful. She never needs to insist on her power--it's self-evident.

On the surface, this seems like an extremely well-written feminist icon. Ambessa is strong and confident, bending to no-one and self-assured. In flashbacks and in her own dialogue, she's presented as someone who is willing to take ruthless and decisive action regardless of other's feelings. She exudes confidence and charisma and never apologizes for the space she takes up in other's lives. Other people exist largely to fulfill her goals and desires. Further, later she reveals that she exiled her daughter Mel because her daughter's more merciful and diplomatic nature weakened Ambessa and her resolve.

In short, Ambessa is the textbook icon of hypermasculine power fantasies enfleshed in a woman.

Thing is though, these traits don't become less toxic when they happen to belong to a woman. Imagine the two scenes above if the character's genders were swapped. Then what we see is a confident, muscled warmonger who establishes his place in the social hierarchy through displays of sexual dominance and belittling those around him. Imagine Caitlyn attempting to discuss the situation in Piltover as a nude, muscled man insults her competence and strides naked over to her in a clear display of power. That's not a character we celebrate; it's a character who makes us feel violated by their very presence. Moreover, it's a character we've all probably seen before a hundred times.

Toxic behavior doesn't stop being toxic when done by a woman instead of a man.

Ambessa is not intended to be a likable character. She manipulates and dehumanizes others (especially sexually), refuses to show mercy, and pushes away those closest to her out of her fear of weakness. She's not an icon of female empowerment. Her character is a commentary on how easy it is to think that feminism means adopting the toxic ways in which men have often exercised power over others. Dehumanization and exploitation aren't behaviors that we should celebrate just because they make a women look strong. Rather, we should re-evaluate what we think strength looks like.

#arcane netflix #arcane #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #toxic people #toxic #toxic masculinity #feminism #girlboss

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mcmookiemeal · 1 year

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Can I request a Donkey Kong x Socially anxious human(just reader who came with Mario and Luigi……your choice) Female! Reader? When I say “socially anxious”, I mean as in doesn’t talk alot and often gets nervous around others yet is still pretty stand-offish and seems intimidating despite the small size(but is actually not……just anxiety) but also has difficulty opening up. I also thought it would be a love at first sight thing(like Mario and Peach in the movie) as well as DK being all protective and maybe he gets jealous at one point…..

It can be a whole imagine, headcanon, multi-part story……..imma leave that up to you.😉

Donkey Kong x Socially anxious reader

I’m gonna make you Mario and Luigis younger sister I hope thats okay!!

You and Dk had kind of a rocky start when you first met.

He was just so…out there.

And you were not.

So there were definitely a lot of walls to break before you guys even developed a friendship.

You met at the arena when mario was going to fight in order to win an alliance with the Kong army.

You were sitting up on the balcony with Cranky Kong and peach.

Dk hadn’t even noticed you at first.

He was too busy trying to gain his dad’s attention while showing off his muscle.

Then his eyes shifted in your direction.

And when he saw you he was just struck by your beauty.

“Hey…Hey whats your name?”

You looked around to see who he could be talking to before it hit you like a ton of bricks that he was talking to you.

“I’m (Y/n.)” You responded quietly.

He smiled at you and winked before turning his attention back to his brother.

He was here to fight after all.

After that event it kind of felt like Dk followed you everywhere.

And you didn’t mind, you were just wondering why he had chosen you.

“I’m sorry but is there a reason you’re following me?” You questioned while standing on the porch of the hut

“You’re just really pretty.” He said without hesitation

Did he even know what he was saying?!

Had he by any chance mistaken you for someone else? Never has anyone outside of your family called you pretty before.

In fact, most people considered you intimidating.

You just chose not to respond to his complement because you honestly didn’t know what to say, but that didn’t seem to stop him from keeping his mouth closed.

You didn’t even talk to him much, he did all the talking and you sat back to listen to him.

I mean everyone needed a friend who could listen to them right?

During the events of helping Peach take down Bowser, Dk stayed right by your side.

Seriously he never left once, he was always there.

It was almost like he was a lost puppy.

Mario picked up on what this “smash monkey” was trying to do and he really wasn’t a fan of it.

And the fact you seemed perfectly fine with it bothered him even more.

So whenever Mario would try to separate the two of you and keep you close to him, Dk just wouldn’t have it.

He would snatch you back from your brother and keep you next to him, where you belonged.

You really didn’t like it when they fought over you, but you understood Dk was probably just happy to have a human friend so you didn’t mind.

It was a completely different story from his perspective.

He just had a really really big crush on you.

He just didn’t understand how could a girl as beautiful as you be related to someone as annoying as Mario.

Even though you didn’t talk much, he still loved being around you.

But sometimes it did worry him a bit.

Did you secretly hate him? Were you in love with someone else? All these thoughts ran through his head so finally he decided to ask you about it.

So when you and Dk got swallowed by the giant eel after the big battle at rainbow road, he figured this would be the time to ask.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him and raised a brow.

“No.” You responded before looking back down at your feet.

Then why do you never talk to me? Did I do something to upset you?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No you didn’t…It’s an issue on my part.”

His face contorted from one of worry to one of confusion, He didn’t understand what you mean’t.

“I’m just not good with other people. It’s not that I don’t like you, i’m just nervous around everyone.”

He didn’t understand how you felt, but he didn’t need to understand to help you.

He grabbed your hands in his very large ones and squeezed them reassuringly.

“You never have to be nervous around me.”

You blushed as he stared at you with those big eyes you just couldn’t bring yourself to turn away from.

You know…since we might die in here, I’ve got something I wanna tell you.”

You look at him with a curious expression, wondering what he’s going to say.

“I really like you.” He confesses.

“Huh-?”

You really were not expecting that.

You didn’t know what to expect from him but it definitely was not a love confession.

“I just think you’re really pretty and nice and cool and I just really like you.” He continued

Your blush only grew darker and darker as he continued with his confession to you.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I get it.”

You sat in your own thoughts for a second, contemplating on what you should say next.

You liked him too but you have never been a romantic person so you really didn’t know what to say right now.

He anxiously looked at you, obviously waiting on your response

You couldn’t keep him waiting forever so it was now or never.

“I like you too but I- I’m kind of scared of getting in a relationship.”

“Scared?”

“Yes I’m scared. It’s a lot of commitment, trust, and it just sounds so scary to be in love with someone.”

He wasn’t sure on how to comfort you, this was obviously a personal issue that he stumbled into by accident.

“Whatever you decide I hope you know I’ll always protect you.”

You look up at him with glossy eyes and nod, wiping away any tears that had stained your cheeks.

“Thank you, but how about we continue this conversation when we get out of here.” You said remembering that you were in an eels stomach.

After escaping the eels stomach on a barrel from Dk’s kart, you two made your way to go crash Bowsers wedding.

Fighting your way through the koopas like badass couples do(you’re not a couple yet but you act like one)

You and Dk came in as the fight was still at its peak, so you helped out by fighting some koopa troopers who just so happened to be in the way.

The fight at the Mushroom kingdom looked like it was about over, You and Mario found Luigi and had your moment as you were reunited, the same went for Dk and his dad.

Everything was fine until Bowser released that giant bullet onto Peaches castle.

Mario stepped in and led it away into one of the pipes which seemed like a smart plan at first, but it ended sucking all of you in with it.

You all landed in Brooklyn and Dk made sure to keep you in the backlines.

The two of you had been through so much together, he didn’t wanna risk loosing you now.

But when Dk has his little brawl with Bowser it wasn’t looking too good for him.

Bowser had him up in a chokehold and was getting ready to punch the life out of him.

You needed to help but you didn’t have anything on you so you grabbed a brick from one of the buildings that had been destroyed and threw it at bowsers head.

He dropped Dk and slowly turned his head towards you.

He huffed and angrily ran in your direction but before he could get to you Dk pushed him out of the way.

“(Y/n) go get the star!” Dk yelled and nodded over to the star.

You understood and ran as fast as you could over towards the star but sadly Dk wasn’t able to hold Bowser off forever and Bowser came after you once again.

He caught up to you and grabbed you by the collar, throwing you back with intense strength.

Dk caught you in his strong arms and didn’t let you go.

He wouldn’t let you go. He couldn’t let that crazy turtle freak hurt you again.

“You’re okay I got you.” He comforted as he stroked your hair with his finger.

You clung onto his big fuzzy arm, shaking violently as a few tears escaped your eyes from the fear you just felt.

The rest of the fight you and Dk sat back to let Mario handle it since you had done all you could do by that point.

The conclusion to the battle was sweet, Bowser was defeated and everyone was happy.

You decided that you didn’t want to stay in Brooklyn anymore, Instead you wanted to go back to the Jungle Kingdom with Dk.

Your brothers chose to stay in the Mushroom Kingdom meaning they were always close, which you were happy about.

Dk and you got together(obviously) and ended up having a pretty successful relationship.

Sure it took a lot of effort to get to where you are now, but you’re so happy you put forth that effort.

Dk is pretty happy you got together because he was really wondering if that crush would ever go away.

A/n: Hope you enjoy!!❤️❤️

#donkey kong x reader #donkey kong #mario movie #mario x reader #nintendo x reader #super mario movie

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colourstreakgryffin · 4 months

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I saw this image on Pinterest and it made me giggle a lot. May I request a Choso x Female Reader fluff oneshot based on this? Like after this awkward encounter choso attempts to talk to someone else which is reader who is actually really kind and is actually willing to make conversation with Choso making him feel human 😊

Oooh! Definitely! That’d be a amazing concept for our dear big brother Choso himself. He deserves so much love and affection so goddamn yes, I am going to write this. Love the idea, big credits to you! And sorry, this is also short and bad

Kamo Choso- One of the Same

Choso did not suspect this whatsoever… he didn’t suspect you to be so friendly, sociable and open-hearted. Almost everybody here are hardened and closed-off, that it’s almost tiresome. He cannot help but feel that you don’t belong within this team. You’re glowing with positivity and shining brighter than the sun, willing to talk to somebody like him whilst Kashimo, the first person Choso tried to communicate with, immediately ignored him and rightfully ignored him

Choso is so confused, even though he was the one who approached you, defeated and certain he’d get rejected again, as he listens to you talk to him and he answers after a bit of hesitation and timidity. He isn’t the best at social situations, clearly very socially-inept and whilst he wanted to know what friendship is like, outside of guarding and caring for his beloved little brother Yuji, he isn’t actually ready to handle such a extroverted, kind person like you. It doesn’t mean he will walk away now

He actually really appreciates how sweet you are, it’s a rarity to find a sugary gemstone within this dark cruel world

Choso… feels like a person when he talks to you. The way you smile genuinely, the way you respond excitably at his every small comment, the way you look at him like he isn’t a Cursed Object called a ‘Death Painting’. He feels likes you, that he isn’t a monster at all and that was has drawn him to you in such a small time

Choso went from just standing in the corner, only communicating with Yuji when he needed to, to full-blown talking to and nodding in response to you, the kind gentle member of this little Sorcery squad. Sitting down with you on a nice big rock whilst the group had been setting up camp outside during this whole Culling Games, Yuji feels immense pride for Choso, for his ‘older brother’ finally being able to branch out and find a new friend. It doesn’t help that Choso finds you very pretty

He could listen to you talk to him anytime and he is pretty glad he gathered back enough self-confidence to approach you on his own. He has his first ever non-family friend he wished he had made beforehand and he really likes this warm, fuzzy feeling you’re giving him as you keep hearing him out and boosting him up to speak more. He is still little and quiet whilst having this conversation, but he feels less isolated and alienated. He feels like he can say anything and be supported

In reality, you’ve always liked how cool and loving he is to his brothers so you’ve been wanting to talk to him seperately for a while now. You can see why Yuji has decided to ally with him, Choso is a wonderful person, even if he is a Cursed Object to his core. Yet, this Cursed Object really likes the pretty sorcerer listening to him and flashing that gorgeous smile on her pretty face

“Well… do you have any siblings, Dokusha?”

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theyanderespecialist · 1 month

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Yandere Velvette X MtF Reader Headcanons: Velvette's Trans Woman (Hazbin Hotel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back, back Again~ Queen is Back, tell a friend, Guess who's back~~~ Dananana~ This one is Velvette X Male To Female, Trans Woman! Now please do enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Velvette is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and Not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!)

(DISCLAIMER: TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN AND TRANS MEN ARE MEN AND NON-BINARY ARE THEY/THEMS but can also be considered trans cause yes some Non-binary do transition as well!

RESPECT MY TRANS MUFFINS Or You will be blocked if you spread hate or bigotry on my page you are done! You can keep your belief to yourself thank you!)

-Yandere Headcanons With Velvette X Trans Woman Reader-

.Velvette is a woman who does not mind her friend and the love of her life, also being a woman.

.She also was very supportive of helping dress you, gurl she cannot let the woman of her dreams not be styling.

.Even if you are a basic bisch pumpkin spice-loving type of girl, she is going to make you a sexy-ass basic bitch!

.She also LOVES to go on dates with you and show you off.

.She supported you when you came out.

.She supported you when you started to socially transition.

.She made all your clothes by hand, taking extra care of love into them. Being so proud when you break out into a smile of wearing the dresses.

.She also loved when you had your first spinny dress moment.

.She also loves making dresses with pockets for you.

.She would be the type to make trans-inclusive dresses and suits, such as built-in padding or binding and or tucking for the trans muffins that need it.

.With you as her model for MTF clothing.

.She also would be helping you get your hormones.

.ALL The bills for transitions, will be paid for, from clothes, to hormones, to surgeries.

.If you did not want bottom surgery.

.She would understand, and you would be no less of a woman in her eyes.

It just means you and her can do extra sex stuff.

.She would be BRUTAL With anyone that EVER misgenders you, you are walking down the streets with her and someone says something.

.They are dead on the spot right then and there.

.Girl she is protective of her little lady you.

.She is the dommy mommy in the relationship and loves and adores you.

.Of course, she does get a wee bit jealous when people notice how much of a sexy woman you are!

.Like that sexy ass belongs to her thank you very much.

.So she will not want you to go out without her.

.Another reason she wants you not to go out alone is because of transphobia. This is hell and there is for sure A TON Of transphobes in hell.

.So she would get you security guards.

.If they fail to protect you?

.Well Valentino can do whatever he wants to them.

.To her you are the most precious thing and she will slaughter anyone who hurts her little lady.

.Some would say that you were besties, pals, even roommates! Heh, But you are full-on lovers.

.It is beautiful!

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS the headcanons are done, Now I might record this and if I have time do an audio scenario for YouTube! I hope you all enjoyed all my sexy muffins whether you are trans or not! Stay Sexy, all My Sexy Muffins!]

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reunionatdawn · 3 months

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My Analysis of the Best Paired Endings in 3H (Part 2: Dimitri/Byleth)

Despite the popularity of some of Dimitri's M/M ships, he seemed to be a typical heterosexual man to me. However, his straightness was actually part of what made his character so interesting, ironically. He spent his youth absorbed in masculine activities like hunting, training, and practicing with the sword.

He was willing to TRY and take Sylvain's advice to pick up girls. But he was very inexperienced with women. Chivalry definitely promotes homoromantic social bonding among men. And perhaps because of that very male-dominated culture he grew up in, he deeply yearned for a relationship with a woman.

The tagline for the game was, "Sweet memories twisted by time's cruel hand". Dimitri's feelings for his stepsister may have been only puppy love, but it was his first time emotionally connecting with a girl. It was one of his sweetest memories. That was why Edelgard's betrayal hurt him so deeply. The emotional core of AM is Byleth taking the spot in Dimitri's heart that Edelgard once held.

The developers did not want to write an entirely different script just to accommodate male Byleth. So, they just took out the Goddess Tower scene, S-Support, and paired ending. The loss of which are a huge detriment to the integrity of the story. Dimileth is just as "canon" as its counterpart Edeleth. I don't even think AM's story or Dimitri's redemption make sense unless there was a romantic connection between those two. Dimitri's Goddess Tower event even foreshadows that specific scene, proving that the moment Byleth reached out her hand was written with romantic undertones.

Byleth being female is an integral part of the story of AM. If Byleth represented the divine masculine in CF, then it follows that she represented the divine feminine in AM. She was a vessel for the soul of the goddess, but more importantly she was a human who could directly intervene in the world and support people with her own flesh and blood.

Dimileth is often criticized for being a simple "fixing the bad boy" straight girl fantasy. But it's less cliche than people give it credit for. Byleth and Dimitri are an interesting blend of masculine and feminine qualities. Byleth is a silent protagonist, but I could tell that Dimitri enjoyed her dry sarcastic sense of humor. She was not a typical healer or pegasus knight like most FE love interests, but a deadly mercenary. She was meant to be similar to Glenn, which is why Felix sees her as his rival.

She serves the role of being Dimitri's sword and shield and stood at his side and protected him during the final battle, filling the knightly role Glenn would have if he had survived (and the role Felix serves in Hopes). She was the Seiros to his Wilhelm. Dimitri is one of the very few male characters that Byleth will give her mother's ring to when she proposes. Yes, it is a woman's ring that Dimitri wears. In fact, Dimitri's whole character arc is about rediscovering and embracing the softer feminine qualities he had as a young boy.

The Professor taught Dimitri how to live. In AG, Dimitri told Shez that from the moment he was born, he never felt like his life belonged to himself. He overworked himself because it was the only way he knew how to live. After Duscur he lost everyone, including his best friend, and his life belonged to their ghosts. The only time he could imagine being happy was upon his death, having devoted his life to forming a peaceful kingdom full of joyful citizens. He yearned for someone to stand by his side and give him a reason to live for himself.

I've seen many people online criticize Dimileth because they say Dimitri already had plenty of people that he was close to in his life and his non-Byleth relationships should have played the biggest role in his redemption. But I disagree. The story made it quite clear that Dimitri's support system was totally inadequate for his emotional needs and could not have pulled him from the abyss.

He was not actually all that close to his childhood friends, even before the Tragedy of Duscur, and he did not confide in them about what he was feeling. He said Rodrigue was the only person outside the castle he was close to. Rodrigue obviously cared for him, but he had not seen Dimitri in two years prior to the academy. Dimitri and Dedue shared a very powerful bond. Losing Dedue was the cause of Dimitri’s initial descent into savagery. But Dedue still insisted on being his vassal instead of his friend and equal.

Felix was obligated to fill the role due to his bloodline, but he did not WANT to be the person Dimitri unburdened his heart to. He was constantly irritable and losing his patience in Azure Gleam. Glenn was one of the ghosts who shadowed Dimitri's every move. And Felix said that since Glenn's death, "his memory has followed me around like a shadow." He hated acting as his brother's replacement. In their AG A-Support, it seemed like he was pretending to like the idea of being the right-hand man because of how dependent Dimitri was on him. We see a direct parallel of that scene in AM where Dimitri is hallucinating in the chapel. While Felix certainly felt compassion for him, he was very eager to foist the role of confidant onto Byleth.

Without anyone to lean on, Dimitri acts pretty monstrous. For five years, he tortured and killed people brutally, as if they were not even human. He threatened to kill Randolph's friends and remove his eyeballs before killing him and we can probably assume that he actually did that sort of thing to his other victims. I related so well with Felix because I felt the exact same mix of disgust and pity towards him.

I didn't ship Dimileth because I self-inserted onto Byleth and I wanted to marry him. I just wanted Byleth to accept him. And I don't find it difficult to believe that she would. Because before she was the stand-in for the goddess, she was the Ashen Demon who cut people down with no emotion. She only began to smile when she started teaching his class. He offered his shoulder to lean on when she lost Jeralt, something the other two house leaders didn't do.

The main ideological conflict between Edelgard and Dimitri was how much they are willing to compromise and accept the unacceptable. Dimitri seemed to understand that Edelgard had legitimate issues with the Church of Seiros as well as the existing world order. But he thought that total destruction of that system would require too much sacrifice. It was an interesting moral quandary.

And honestly, there was no easy answer. In an ideal world, there would be no false religion and no such thing as nobility, period. Even most of the nobles in the cast would have been happier to just be regular people. AM certainly doesn't end in a utopia or anything (although it's less status quo than AG). It was about the characters compromising and making concessions with an inherently unjust system because perhaps taking innocent human life is wrong even if it's for a just cause.

The Crest of Blaiddyd is associated with Strength. The Strength Tarot card is the Major Arcana of inner strength. It represents mastering raw emotions in order to bring calm to yourself or a situation. Dimitri was born on the winter solstice making him a Sagittarius, which is a masculine fire sign symbolized by a centaur. The horse portion of the Sagittarius symbol is unruly, relentless, beastly, and strong. The human portion is wisdom-seeking and rational. Dimitri's character arc was about overcoming his anger and hatred and becoming the wise "Savior King" who could reach out his hand to his mortal enemy.

Byleth & Dimitri The marriage of the newly appointed Archbishop, Byleth, and Dimitri, who officially ascended to the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, further delighted the people amidst the celebrations of the end of the war. Continuously seeking a better future for Fódlan, they pursued their ideals, gradually reforming the traditional political systems and the structure of the Church. They upheld their roles as leaders of the Church and the state, engaging in intense debates at times. However, when they went on long rides or hunting trips alone together, they wore not the faces of the Archbishop and the King, but those of an ordinary, loving couple.

JRPGs are known for "killing god". AM ends not with you destroying the church but becoming its leader. The people of Fódlan paid lip service to the goddess, but they actually revered Nemesis and the 10 Elites. So much so that Rhea had no choice but to refer to them as heroes and Crests as gifts from the goddess. Fódlan is a patriarchal land. Faerghus especially so.

With Fódlan unified under Faerghus, Byleth acts as the divine feminine force who will change that society from the inside out, just as she did her husband. Is rulership by a benevolent monarch and a matriarchal pope a good enough ending? Well, that's for the player to decide. But I found it to be the best ending, both for Fódlan and for Dimitri and Byleth themselves.

#fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #dimileth #fe3h meta

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slxsherwriter · 7 months

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The Big Wheel Groans

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: None, hints of future Rusty x female reader

Word count: 3, 127

Warnings: Mentioned of parental death

Author's note: Rusty has taken a permanent residence in my brain. Waffled back and forth a few times on how innocent the reader would actually be. I think Rusty would do well with this polite, naive little thing. Bonus points to anyone who gets the title reference. May explain how I'm viewing these two.

Cigarettes, stale coffee, and greasy bacon. The scent was an immediate assault as soon as the door opened. Most would find it off-putting, but to you? To you, it brought up fond childhood memories of getting to tail along with your father; early morning drives out into the beautiful countryside, interspersed with stops like this. He always let you get some pancakes with whipped cream. The nostalgia washed over you like a crashing wave, and for just a moment, your chest tightened. As good as those memories were, the pain felt just as fresh as it had been two months ago.

Giving a polite smile to the woman that came and greeted you, it was easy to pick your way through the tables as she found a space against the wall on the opposite side of the tiny truck stop diner to set you.

"Passing through, honey?" You settled down and kept up with the kind smile. You damn well knew that she didn't always get the respect she deserved. Just the nature of the job and the location. Truckers? They could carry their own and knew well enough to be mindful. At least the generation that your father belonged to did. Yours? Not so much.

"Yes, ma'am." She seemed surprised to hear the response. "Not in any hurry, though. I'll take a coffee when you get a moment, please." You could see someone, definitely not one to frequent stops like this, was trying to get her attention.

"Well, ain't you a polite young thing," she offered with a soft laugh. "I'll bring your coffee right up." She headed off with an almost lazy step to her gait, clearly not in any sort of rush to take care of the demanding customer. The action was enough to force you to stifle a laugh behind your hand. Eyes had fallen on you when you had first entered and now? They had mostly returned to their own doings and business. That could have stemmed from the fact that you dressed sort of like you fit in amongst all the workers who spent their hours on the road. The beat-up Carhartt around your shoulders had belonged to your father. It had seen far better days, but it was the one thing you hadn't been able to give up.

Your father had been your rock, your steady shore, the one who had been there. He had raised you alone, did everything right. As much as he could. Older now, you realized the man had his flaws, but he cared for you very much and had done a hell of a job on his own. When your grandmother came into the picture when you were fifteen, upheaval and chaos reigned. She had managed to petition the courts to gain custody. That was what happened when one side had money and the other hadn't. A single father on the road for work versus the woman whose name meant something and had connections. It was a losing battle.

Playing in that world, high society, had always felt wrong. You had longed for the simple days in the rural home you had spent your childhood in. Money hadn't meant shit. Social events and gatherings were torturous at best, painful proceedings that you were forced through over and over again. All because you carried a name? Or well, supposedly did. A name you has forsaken as soon as the old woman passed away.

Sure, she had left everything to you, and it would be a hell of an easy life. But that wasn't what you had wanted. Selling her house, all the shit in it that you didn't need, you had found a beater car and headed right back to see your father.

It was only a few years later that he fell ill. All the money in the world couldn't beat out the consequences of smoking two packs a day and a life spent in a rig. Now, you were working on spreading his ashes cross country in the spots you visited as a kid. At least the money was being used for something.

In the blink of an eye, your meal, pancakes with whipped cream of course, and coffee were all done. All in all, it was a meal under 15 bucks. As discreetly as you could, you wrote out a note before shoving several large bills in the little folder. Enough to leave a healthy tip for the kind waitress and pay for the meals of the six other people occupying the bar space. Standing up, you stopped the waitress on your way out.

"Keep the change." It was all you offered before you stepped outside. You didn't need to see the results of your small act. You didn't do it for recognition. Hell, once you were done with this, you were retreating from the world to your fathers house and not leaving for a few weeks at minimum.

Sitting in your car, you were studying the map. GPS was good, and while you used it, it was always good to have the route planned out. Technology could shit the bed easily. At least reading and following the map was a sure thing. Mostly. Roads occasionally changed but not enough to end up lost with no knowledge of how to unstick yourself. A tap on the window caused you to jump, pressing the paper downwards for a moment.

A man stood outside your window, tall enough that you couldn't see his face right away, having to shift closer with him leaning his head down. Even so, his hat obscured his eyes. Scruff lined his chin, slightly peppered. This man was definitely a trucker. Quickly, you rolled down the window.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"That was an awful kind thing you did there," he spoke softly, his hand jerking back in the direction of the diner. You blinked, processing the words but reacting far slower than it should have been. That voice. Deep with that drawl. You could listen to it for hours. "Things like that don't happen too often." Was he looking for an explanation?

"Oh, it wasn't much, really." His eyes were running over the car. You knew how it looked. First impressions wouldn't scream that you had money. Which, maybe to a degree, it was a good thing. "What good is an inheritance if you can't put a little good out into the world? Would it be safe to assume that one of those rigs is yours?" You motioned towards the line of trucks not far from where you were parked.

"S'pose you could."

"My father was a trucker. The job isn't easy, and I respect what you do. The least I could do was pay for food and coffee. A good meal and some caffeine are important. My attempt to make up for all the bad that you have to deal with, at least in a small way." He seemed to mull the words over for a moment, almost as if it wasn't what he expected you to say. Then, a soft chuckle, a deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine, came from the man. His fingers drummed against the hood of your car for just a moment before he stepped back.

"Well, it's appreciated."

"It's really no problem at all. Happy to do something so small. Stay safe out there."

"You do the same, sweetheart."

****

The meeting stuck in your head, leaving a little smile on your face as you drove the long, mostly desolate stretches of highway for the next two days. There was one final special stop that you had to make, where the remainder of the ashes would be spread. It was off the beaten path, near an abandoned warehouse. The same little isolated lake that you and your father had always spent your birthdays. A little fishing, some deer watching, and the sort of peace and calm that didn't come from anything but a lack of interaction with the outside world. A place just for the two of you, away from the outside world and distractions. There was no work, there was no school, no one to bother and no one to interrupt.

The spreading of his ashes had been both painful and cathartic. A final goodbye that in a lot of ways you had not been ready for. But, there was no other option. Reality was what it was, and you couldn't hold on to him out of selfish reasons. Being back in that place brought back nothing but fond memories, some that you hadn't thought about in years, and some that you had forgotten.

You hadn't driven more than a couple miles off the road that led to the abandoned warehouse when steam started coming from your engine. Pulling the truck to the side of the road, you killed the engine and let out a small huff. Out in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't a chance for cell service, and nothing was within walking distance to be able to find a tow truck. Hopefully, it was something you'd be able to fix on your own, but you wouldn't know until you got out of the car and popped the hood. The heat coming from the engine was uncomfortable, and you had to pull your hand back twice before being able to lift the hood at all. Waving smoke out of your face, you waited for just a moment longer for things to clear before appearing into the engine to see if you could determine what was causing the problem. At the same time, you tried to keep a careful ear out for any cars that might be passing by. There wasn't a lot of traffic on the road, so you could only get one chance at flagging a car down if you were lucky. You didn't know all that much about engines, just the basics that your father had taught you when you were young. You hadn't had a chance to learn much more, unfortunately. Now would have been a great time to have that knowledge.

The rumble of a semi filled your ears as you cursed and pulled back from the engine. From what you could tell, it was possible that the head gasket blew. Which meant that there was not much you could do with the car. You would have to have it towed and fixed by a mechanic. Stranded. You are absolutely stranded if this truck didn't stop for you. Before you even had the chance to stand up and pull back fully from the car and stick a thumb out, the sound of the brakes being hit filled the empty area around you. The trucker was coming to a stop before you would even ask for help. Hopefully, that was a good thing.

It took a second from the time the truck stopped for the door to open. In that time, you watched curiously, perhaps a little too relaxed, but it was in your nature. The few friends you had always said that you always thought of people as too good. But it hadn't caused problems yet, so what did they know?

"Ya broke down?" The distinct voice was familiar, even after only encountering it once. He was leaning over from the driver side, peering out through the open passenger door.

"I'm not the best with engines, but I think the head gasket went. So, it might be a lost cause." You wiped your hands against your pants for a moment, trying to clean them up a bit.

"Judging from the smoke, don't think you are going anywhere, any time soon. Why don't you hop in and I can give ya a lift to the next town." You glanced at the car for a moment before moving to grab your bag.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you. Or your run. I know things can be time sensitive." You glanced at the trailer that his rig was hauling, almost instantly feeling bad that he had stopped. You could remember your father complaining about eighteen, twenty hour shifts at a time to cover the necessary ground, when he thought that you couldn't hear that was.

"It isn't out of the way. Come on, get in." Any more hesitating would be time wasting. One step up, and you had to grab the bars to take the next step and keep your balance before swinging yourself into the passenger seat. Quickly, you closed the door.

"Thank you, really. I thought I was going to be there awhile." Your eyes bounced around the rig, unable to help it as you took in the inside of the cab or the way that a smile came without warning. "I haven't been inside a truck like this in forever. She really is gorgeous. Peterbilt, right?" He was already getting the truck moving again.

"Gotta say I'm impressed. Ain't too many that don't drive and know their stuff. 359, 1986."

"My mechanic skills may not be the greatest, but I like to think I know my trucks." It was a light tease, any and all pride lacking from the words. In the look around, you have spotted a few places you could leave him some cash for the ride. It was the least that could be done. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've been terribly rude." You had never introduced yourself, which you quickly remedied.

"You can call me Rusty." Probably part of a CB handle, but it hardly mattered. You had a moment where you struggled to decipher if he preferred quiet or if he wanted to chat. Talking wasn't something that you would push. If he wanted to, sure he would initiate, and if not, you didn't mind being silent.

It went on for a little longer, the silence and atmosphere of the cab comfortable. Miles seemed to pass under the large wheels within the blink of an eye.

"What are you doing out here, all on your own?" The question was bound to come eventually. You paused for just a moment before glancing away from the road finally and towards the man.

"Spreading my Daddy's ashes." His eyes tore from the road the same way yours had, this time as if trying to judge if you were being honest. "Stopping at all the places that we had visited when I was little. He raised me. First couple years of my life, I practically lived in his rig with him. A couple miles back? Off Whitey close to that abandoned warehouse, about a mile off there is a little secluded lake. We would spend birthdays there. Fishing, wildlife watching, me playing hooky from school. It was the last stop." Your voice softened as you neared the end of the explanation. A pang in your chest. One that wasn't as strong as it had been the last few months.

"I'm sorry to hear he passed." The words had been repeated by a few people, that sort of unsure what to say but needed to offer something for condolences. It was an awkward situation to try to maneuver around. But you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. "Ya mind me asking how ya came into all that money then? Can't say I got a stash laying around like that." The question brought a slightly bitter sound from your throat before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to do that. It's just…not the best of memories. My maternal grandmother. Never knew my mama, not entirely sure what happened to her. But when the older woman found out, she petitioned the court for custody. The usual foul rhetoric spewed about my father and his occupation. Not being suitable for children and such. Helped that she had money and connections." You paused as the rush of memories washed over you. Hands unconsciously tightened against your bag before you let out a shuddering breath. "She was one of those folks who always looked down their noses at everyone who didn't come from the so-called elite. Better than everyone else. Couldn't stand to be around her and that life. People like that? They ain't any good. Aren't honest, don't know a day of hard work in their life." You could hear the slight crink of leather, likely from the steering wheel but paid little mind.

"I didn't want anything to do with her or that life. She passed right before I turned eighteen, thinking she had gotten what she wanted with me being molded into her image. Left everything. I couldn't sell the house and business off fast enough. Got my name changed back, legally. Went straight back to the small country home I had grown up in. Never wanted the money and don't have too much of a need for it. It's a silly idea, but I try to counter all the negative, nasty things that she did by giving it away where I can." You had always been an open book to everyone. Oversharing had never gotten you in trouble yet. A habit that your grandmother had tried to break you of but had never been successful. Ever.

"Ain't all that silly, sweetheart." There was a different note to his voice. Something soft, something that made you feel a swell of some unknown emotion in your chest. Your cheeks felt a little hot. At least someone didn't think it was silly. Your friends indulged you, of course, but you knew occasionally they spoke about it behind your back. "World would be a better place with more people who thought like that."

Again, a few minutes of silence passed, as if the exchange was being digested and determinations were being made. Well, you were more content to just enjoy the rumble of the truck and the passing landscape.

"You look like you could use some sleep. Why don't you get some shut eye. Next town is still about sixty miles out."

"Are you sure?" You couldn't deny that the rhythmic rumble was lulling you into that relaxed peaceful state. But you didn't want to be rude either.

"Hun'red percent. Ain't gonna bother me none. I'll wake you when we are getting close, okay?"

Was it smart to fall asleep in the rig of a man you didn't know? Hardly. You weren't that naive. But, at the same time, you didn't feel a single sense of danger from the man. Shifting a little and pulled the jacket around you to act more like a blanket, you settled your head against the window.

"Thank you, Rusty." Eyes closed, it didn't take long for sleep to take a hold, leaving you unaware of the eyes that had turned to take you in, or the shift in intent in the truck.

#joy ride #rusty nail #rusty nail x reader #slasher x you #slasher writing #horror writing #rusty nail joyride

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