#NO MEANS NO
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
magnetictapedatastorage · 9 months ago
Text
there is NEVER a WRONG or BAD REASON to reject somebody. saying "NO" can NEVER make you a bad person or a bigot. harassing somebody for having sexual boundaries puts you on the side of RAPISTS.
I better not see any "but-" or "well-" or i'll go ballistic on your PRO-RAPIST ANTI-BOUNDARIES ASS
if you can't say "no means no, even if he identifies as a yes" then you're pro rape.
719 notes · View notes
nothing0fnothing · 1 year ago
Text
Not letting your daughters develop a creep alarm is abuse.
Not teaching your daughter to uphold her boundaries when men make her feel uncomfortable is abuse.
Insisting your daughter be polite to creepy family members is abuse.
Expecting your daughter to cuddle and kiss family friends she barely knows is abuse.
You know one day you will be sending an eighteen year old girl into a world full of rapists, weirdos and creeps. You are intentionally training her to ignore her instinct to pull away from these men and intilling one where she puts male comfort over her own safety.
You know that dangerous men take advantage of the way women are socialised to be polite at all costs, to never even give a man a hint that they think he's a little bit creepy, and you are teaching her to behave in exactly the way these men look for in a mark.
She will go to college one day. Just her and 10,000 20 year old men. Do you really think the purity culture narrative you have instilled in her is going to protect her if she's drunk at a party and is starting to feel unsafe, when you've taught her that her saftey comes second to male comfort?
She will have a job one day. How hard do you think it's going to be for her to navigate creepy advances in a professional setting if you've taught her she's being rude when she so much as tells a man he's making her uncomfortable?
You have 18 short years to instill into her a sense of caution and a firmness in her boundaries that for the rest of her life the society she lives in will try to beat out of her. You know she won't learn it later if you don't teach her now.
You're intentionally setting her up for an adult life of silently witnessing her own abuse, why? So you don't have to have a slightly awkward conversation about no meaning no with another grown adult? So your perfectly obedient child can be used as an entertainment accessory at family gatherings? I'd genuinely like to know what the reasoning is to intentionally endanger your child by teaching her to be perfect prey to violent men for the rest of her life.
1K notes · View notes
wormwoodartemisia · 1 month ago
Text
[One of my favourite tropes in all variations: getting rescued, one way or the other - and I really need more people to write about it 😇]
I guess enough of us have probably already made certain experiences with that one kind of guys who simply wouldn't let the issue drop when you tell them that you're not interested, no matter what you say (in decreasing stages of politeness), unless...
{Only this time, we turn the tables a bit. 😏}
Claimed
Sometimes you need to be rescued - and sometimes it's the others…
About 5.2k words
Established Ghoap, civilian afab!Reader; (almost) no specific description (except that Reader has got soft hair that's long enough to run one's fingers through + Reader might appear rather tall at some point, but nothing in detail); no use of y/n
Warning: no smut actually taking place, just some references (mostly implied, intention to have sex); taste of alcohol
[[In case you want some more info: first meeting; aggressive, unrequited flirting: pestering and being a nuisance (when 'no' is interpreted as 'try harder' or simply ignored, but neither by Reader nor Ghost/Soap); fake kiss; What do we think about a threesome {MMF/MFM}?]]
Tumblr media
Your original plan was to go out and spend some quality time on your own, focussing on nothing in particular, just floating through your own mind. However, it's one of those nights...
The bar is crowded in a pleasant way. When you enter, you can nontheless still get you favourite spot in the small booth not too far away from the bar counter. The perfect place for treating yourself with your favourite drink and indulging in the typical noises here that let you relax after an ardous week full of work. Normally...
The night is still young, you're in good spirits altogether. On such lazy evenings, you like people-watching, in case someone catches your attention. Then you wouldn't actively listen to their conversations, of course, but discretely observe them a bit, guess their mood and wonder what circumstances brought them here. A good training for staying attentive and creative alike.
Taking a sip from your drink, you casually start scanning the taproom with your eyes, when suddenly you notice a tall, broad figure in black appear from the back of the spacious room and lean against the counter, just a few seats away from you. For the shortest of moments the man takes you in and briefly nods at you in acknowledgement. You have hardly any time to reciprocate his gesture before he turns away again to order two drinks.
Of course you remember this stoic man from several other visits here, outstanding as he is, always looking the same, clad in the darkest colours only, his face covered by a black surgical mask he never takes off fully. He's one of the regulars (even if he's sometimes away for weeks), just like you - but you wouldn't have thought that he’s ever noticed you in here, let alone make it known to you...
In all the past months, you never saw him look your way, not even slightly. He always seemed totally concentrated on the guy he kept company - that boisterous, ever-grinning mohawk with his fiercely piercing blue eyes that winked at you playfully one night when you passed them on your way out to head home. A contagious smile. Handsome man in his extrovert personality, but you don't find his mysterious, calm mate any less attractive, though you haven't seen much of him so far, except his short blond hair, some fair skin and now his dark, steady eyes a few moments ago.
You save his expression in your memory. Definitely something worth remembering.
To be honest, these two are your favourite people to watch.
Together, they take a presence in the room that's unmatched, draws you in, clouds your thoughts, if you allow yourself to go astray. You've never witnessed anything like that before. These two men have captivated you right from the start and it took you some time to put it into words: blowing through the landscapes of your mind, Mohawk is a storm, Mask is its eye... They belong together.
Such a beautiful couple (you're absolutely sure that's what they are, you can’t have misread their interactions), radiant energy, all easy-going, just pure affection, content with and enough for each other, never any drama.
Well, there's always a first time...
When Mask picks up his two drinks, he manages to take two steps back into the direction where he came from before he stops midmotion. Mohawk has just entered the stage of your field of vision, approaching fast from the backroom and stepping at the counter behind his mate. He leans his back against it, sighing audibly. You wouldn't need to be as close to them as you are in order to notice his furrowed brows and the tight line of his lips. It's easy to tell that he’s frustrated - massively so. Slowly Mask turns around, handing Mohawk his drink.
"Well, Johnny, no more damsel in distress, I take it?"
"Ach, haud yer weesht."
You can’t avoid becoming a witness to their talk. Despite the other people around, it’s a quiet evening and their deep voices carry over to you easily, closeby as you are, the tension not to be overheard.
Johnny takes a sip, looks at his partner and rolls his eyes. He's just noticed someone behind his friend. You've never seen him that annoyed: "No second act, please..."
Then you see the beauty beeline towards the two men.
You bet every guy in here would give her 10/10 - and you could readily agree - if not for her flawless outward appearance desperately trying to cover up that one specific look in her eyes, with which she holds her chin up just one bit too high. Though, nine of ten would probably gladly ignore that streak of arrogance (- which you feel so obviously oozing off her in case one is willing to take one closer look - ) if that meant getting a chance to know her better - and her pants.
She's all seductive smiles: "How impolite of you to keep me waiting!", she chirps, addressing both men equally, voice like sugar syrup, sticky, dripping. Used to getting what she wants...
Taking another sip, Johnny doesn't even bother to look at her at this point anymore.
First-row-seat, you can watch the drama unfold.
Mohawk: "We'd rather be alone."
Beauty (flirtatiously): "Now we're getting closer. Just my thought. So we're leaving?"
Black Mask: "You are very welcome to go."
Beauty: "Well, you already get me going, mystery, but I'd love to come as well."
You almost choke on your drink. This woman is terrible, fully ignoring both men clearly pointing out that her attention is unwanted! It has become obvious that she must have already been digging on your two favourites for quite some time, finally even making them change their place...
Yet she doesn't stop: "If you know what I mean."
Mask: "We get it, but we choose to ignore the implication."
Beast: "Ohh, playing hard to get, sweets? I like me some good challenge!"
Mask: "Nice. Then show us how fast you can get away."
Beast: "No problem. I'm off in less than one second if you take my hand."
"I'd rather take yer head", Johnny mumbles, but in contrast to you, she can hear him and grins wickedly: "And I'd give you head willingly, Scotty too Hottie!"
She reaches out to him, but Mask's cold voice actually makes her stop.
"Don't touch him."
Beast chooses to let Mask's words play into her favour: "No need to be jealous, killer."
"Go pick someone else."
You're convinced that he'll finally get through to her, but Beast gets distracted.
"Yeah, pick me, sugar! Anytime!", some random guy in passing by turns to her, immediately posing, showing her his upper arm, flexing his biceps, clearly quite taken with her outward appearance.
"Not now", she dismisses him, noticeably annoyed, but he only shrugs, grinning, before calling back over his shoulder: "Change your mind, lemme know, gorgeous."
Mask: "You should go with him."
She gives that bloke a swift lookover. "Not my type."
"We're nae yer type, either", Johnny points out.
Beast: "Oh, but you are. Love that brogue."
Mask: "Let me rephrase: you are not our type."
Beast: "Don't worry, I can become anybody's type."
She wants to touch him, both of them, badly so, you can tell, from the way her fingers are twitching at her side, but something's holding her back. So she does have a slight idea of boundaries, at least.
"We might nae be interested in women altogether", Johnny states matter-of-factly and has her head snap into his direction again.
"Hot - but you've never had a woman like me before, I promise."
"True. And ah hope we'll never meet one like ye again in future, either."
"You won't. I'm unique - and you really don't wanna miss this one chance, boys. I'll make it worth your while."
Rather worst your while, you think to yourself while you notice their patience wearing thin. It is beyond you why she doesn't take 'no' (all those 'no's') as what it is. It makes you angry, this full display of blunt disrespect, every rejection - in decreasing stages of politeness - just a spur for her to try harder, eagerly pushing an ego that is non-existent...
It's now that Mask furrows his brows and rummages in a pocket of his jeans: "We don't find you attractive at all." On finishing his sentence, he takes a look at what he's holding in his palm now, a silently vibrating mobile phone. He shoots the other man a swift glance: "I'm'a take that call now, Johnny. Make her leave." His tone has changed, laced with finality.
Mohawk straightens, the command initiating a subtle but nontheless visible transformation. He responds to his masked partner with one single firm nod: "Yes, sir."
The mask exits.
Beast was quiet during their exchange but now she's biting her lower lip and turns to Mohawk seductively: "Sexy."
He looks at her, the bright summer sky of his eyes now the cold of the frostiest glacier: "Oan yer bike!", a deep, low rumble.
You can sense that this was his last attempt to give her a decent way out - unfortunately she doesn't take her chance: "I'd rather ride you, handsome."
You know this type of person - man or woman, makes no difference. She won't stop.
Mohawk has just realised this sad fact, too. He breathes out deeply and while his eyes are wearily drifting towards the exit, he grazes your gaze for a split second.
Meanwhile, Beast dares to get closer, the attempt of a huntress, about to reach out and - what? Touch his hips?
It crosses your mind that this insufferable person would have already been removed from the bar had she been a man harassing two women. However, with switched roles (and a beautiful woman being after two broad blokes) nobody (except Mohawk, Mask & you yourself) seems to fathom any fundamental problem...
You can see that this might get ugly (situations easily do with people like Beast) - and since you know how things can be... Your turn.
Ready to avoid the catastrophe...
He doesn’t get the time to say anything, nor does she to lay hand on him. You're faster.
Within one heartbeat you've grabbed your drink and pop up at his side, so much out of nowhere, that you manage to catch Beast by surprise and get her full attention.
You press yourself against Mohawk's side (as unobtrusive as possible under these circumstances) and, by reflex, you guess, his left arm comes to rest around your waist, a pose the two of you have fallen into so naturally, nothing odd about it, no hint of hesitation from either of you.
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t act surprised. He simply gets what you're doing here - but Beast doesn’t have a clue.
Showtime...
This is the guise you've chosen to present, and you perform artistically: there's a hint of defeat in your features, a slight hue of regret and a thin-lipped smile pointing downwards, emphazising that you know when a game is over.
You make sure that Beast gets enough time to study your facial expression. Then you donne Mohawk a genuine smile: "OK, honey, you win. I am fucking jealous seeing you flirting with some random woman. You were right, I was wrong. It really pisses me off when you tease her. I need this bad charade to end right now or I’ll forget myself", you notice a spark of mischief in his eyes, "And yes, darling, for the records, you have just won our bet. Happy now?"
Mohawk smirks at you, "Wasnae too painful tae confess now, was it, luv?" and makes you wonder how a grin can be so subtle and triumphant at the same time. You can feel him squeeze your waist in affection.
Now you turn to the other woman: "Really good job, dearie, digging on my man, testing my limits. So, have a nice one and farewell."
You can see the wheels in her head turning.
Does she call your bluff? No, at least not yet.
Doesn't mean it's over, though...
She gives you a calculating look-over, probably wondering why this man would be with you [in general, but especially] when he could have her - but she doesn't voice you're not his league, as some might say. She notices his hand caressing you softly, small gestures that make your acting convincing - the final proof, you think, to make her believe your claim is true.
Yes, "OK, I get it, the two of you belong together", but "but then I won’t let that blond enigma off the hook, for sure!"
Your heart skips a beat.
"Pity", a deep voice chimes in. Neither that woman nor you have noticed the masked man's return, his eyes fixed on Beast. So both of you stare at him when he takes one final step, "I'm all hers as well. Actually", to put his arm around your shoulder and drag your body into his possessively, "we're a throuple."
That poor woman is speechless for a second, blinks, flummoxed. "Throuple?", she repeats, utterly dumbfounded, her voice dripping with doubt.
"Aye, throuple, ye ken?", now Mohawk closes back in on you as well, his hand sliding to the small of your back. His once mischievous smile grows darker as he pulls up one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth, showing teeth, grinning - it's the wolfish way: "We fuck each other relentlessly and live happily ever after, just the three of us."
The blond wolf knows to add an eloquent thought: "With just the right amount of cocks 'n' holes to take care of, one sweet, perfect cunt. Yours not needed."
Her eyes go wide at their crude, blunt proclamation, a behaviour so different from before, but you yourself can’t help the smirk that creeps on your lips. Too much information for her...
Her eyes dart to the upturned corners of your mouth, the way you can hardly conceal your grin gets her suspicious.
However, your own focus finds a reason to shift when at the same time you feel the two men moving you in perfect sync. While Mask's right hand is sliding up from your shoulder to your neck, his left hand is tracing your left arm downwards until his long fingers can intertwine with yours. Using only soft, sweet pressure, he's holding your hands against your hip. Meanwhile, he's turned your body away from facing the other woman so that your back is firmly pressed to his front.
You feel the outlines of his muscular body, too fascinated to do anything else but comply - and why wouldn't you? It's too delightful a moment not to simply bask in - hyperaware of how your handsome 'darling' has also fully turned to you.
He's the counterpart to the man behind you, pressing his chest to your front, radiating heat that directly pools into your core. It comes oh-so naturally for you to place your right arm on his shoulder, your fingers sliding up his neck and into the soft strands of his hair, by instinct. You could swear you hear him faintly moan in pleasure; you can see dark night dawning in the shining sky of his cerulean orbs.
Caught between two predators, you couldn't be a prettier prey for them to play with... They're a sling that grows tighter around you, a closely woven net you don't want to escape.
You just concentrate on the feeling, let it swallow you whole, relishing in the moment, pretty sure you'll never get anything comparable again.
It's a perfect moment - apart from the fact that it’s not real.
However, maybe that's just what's made it all possible for you - no self-doubts, no fear of overstepping or misreading anybody's signs, no fear of rejection - for you won't ever be close to one of these guys, who aren’t into any woman after all. That has been clear to you from the very beginning, undeniably. Maybe it’s the first time you really feel at ease in a situation that could be part of a fantasy (literally your own fantasy!) - and the way they play along (a bit exaggerated in a way, perhaps) does some good to your self-confidence, despite only being a play pretend.
Suddenly you are pushed back over the edge of reality when the reason behind everything disturbs your haunting demon of harmony.
"You do them both?", Beast inquires, voice too shrill.
Don't let her catch you, this was your idea! Play cool!
Your remark sounds casual enough: "Well, yes... Not necessarily at the same time, though..."
"Not necessarily not at the same time", Mask clarifies pointedly, just loud enough for the four of you to hear and he lets his hips roll against the curve of your arse in one smooth motion that holds enough pressure to softly push you forward.
His partner knows how to catch you, perfect timing, by letting his own lower body meet you less than halfway. If you thought the three of you were close before, then you were wrong. Now you definitely feel the outlines of their dicks against your body. The vice their muscular frames create presses a shaky breath out of you that you didn’t know you were holding. It sounds too close to a wanton moan.
Suddenly feeling caught out, you hurry to hide your face from her in the crook of Mohawk's neck, blushing.
"Careful", you whisper into his ear, in a mild shock regarding your reaction to the two men. Mohawk makes you look him in the eye, tenderly thumbing your chin, and grins like a challenge. The way he then gingerly licks his lips makes him look hungry, almost lets you assume he might actually want to try and get a bite of you... What a silly idea for you to have...
Time seems to stretch and leaves your mind in a dizzy state.
"Lucky you." Her comment startles you. Why is she still there?
You sigh. Ultimately, you've put yourself in this situation - which isn't unpleasant in itself, rather the opposite. So don't be shy in the last few metres. Keep playing until the curtain falls...
"Luckiest girl in town", you confirm and mean it, "Can always have my favourite sandwich whenever I want."
You turn your head so you can have it leaning against the cheek of the man behind you, who closes the distance between your faces immediately. He welcomes the gesture like a purring cat and you feel the low sound vibrate in his chest.
Finally Beast truly takes a look at the two men and the woman who has claimed them. She can’t but feel betrayed. Her face turns into an ugly display of her defeat.
She snaps at both men equally: "You could have just told me right from the start that you got a girlfriend."
"Less fun", Mask comments deadpan and doesn't care about how she looks at him, fury raging in her eyes: "Arsehole! Wasting my time like this with your childish games! Grow up!"
How you despise her for her ignorance, for not letting the issue drop at once unless another woman has put a valid claim on the objects of her desire... How you loathe people not accepting 'No' and blaming others...
There is a jet black feeling boiling under your skin like the most Stygian gloom.
Beast is still glaring at the three of you, she might be even waiting for an apology that will never come.
"We're done talking now", your voice is ice crashing on her heated temper.
Mohawk knows a drastic method to underline your words. He turns your face away from her, his warm hand cupping your cheek, and draws you in. For a kiss...
You feel bold, (wrath coursing in your veins because of her) moving your lips as a tribute to all these Hollywood film-kisses you've seen in your life, mimicking passion; no tongues, no such line would be crossed with him. This will stay safe, you assume.
He tastes of whisky - tar notes and peat with tangy crisp seaweed and smoky bacon swirling on the surface, hints of sweet vanilla. Mouth feel is superb, dark and sweet, grounding you.
How long is this imitation of a kiss taking that you can process all these impressions? What's your flavour on his lips?
The woman watches you kissing for an endless moment, but how would you know?
You're focalised on the open-eyed dance of your mouths that you're sharing with this stranger of your dreams, concentrated on keeping up the fa��ade while the two of you are holding each other's gaze, his boyfriend pressing your backside to his own body. What a strange intimacy...
When you feel the man behind you carefully untangle your intertwined fingers to let his hand find its way between Mohawk's and your own body in order to have his wide palm spread below your heart, his other hand wandering up your neck and into your hair, soft strands gliding through his fingers like liquid silk, a pull that's not a pull, you know that the other woman has finally left.
It's time for you to break the kiss, observing the man in front of you, that smug smile spreading on his delicious lips and reaching into his eyes, half-lidded now like those of a well-fed cat. You are preparing for an awkward feeling to set in, but it never comes. Somehow you stay caught in that surreal bubble the three of you have created.
Should you have a bad conscience towards the man in your back for your having indulged in kissing his partner? You decide against this notion. He has no reason to be upset or jealous, has he? You did nothing wrong, only responding to a kiss, not initiating it yourself; somehow it wasn't even a kiss, all just a fake, a game, nothing serious...
Right here, right now, you don't have the slightest idea how right and wrong you are at the very same time...
[Prepare to learn, dearie dove - choices have consequences.]
"Pure dead brilliant, bonnie", Johnny beams, "Tha was the nicest way out of this fucked-up situation. Ta."
Your proud, sly smile replies: "Just couldn't tolerate her disgusting behaviour anymore." Then you shift your weight to prepare for stepping aside in order to give up the formation of your human sandwich, but the man in your back reaches out his left hand, placing it on his partner's biceps.
Your cerulean bliss smiles impishly at the masked man in a way that leaves no question as to their feelings for each other (Beautiful!) and lets the fingers of his right hand come to rest on Mask's lower arm.
Just a gesture of affection among them, for sure, but your attempt of leaving this flat triangle has failed miserably, keeping you caged between the two of them. (Probably for the better since Beast might still be around!) Anyway, why would you complain? So when his two saphires return to you, you add: "I knew I simply had to do something when she was about to get all handsy with you."
He grimaces in repugnance: "Aye, got too close, that one", then he addresses his boyfriend, "Bloody bint was about tae grab ma bahookie, ye ken?"
"English, MacTavish."
You can hear the grin in Mask's deep baritone.
"Sorry, sir", he's not sorry at all, "Let me translate: my arse." He flashes you one of his flawless smiles and a conspiratory wink you bathe in. Their banter is enjoyable!
Grinning, you present your own theory: "I bet she would have even kissed it right on the spot if you had told her to or simply let her..."
The man in front of you says nothing in reply, but you see his eyes flick to your lips. You feel the weight in your back shift when the tall blond leans forward to whisper in your ear, just loud enough for his friend to hear, too: "I think he liked your kiss much better."
Then you feel a soft press against your jaw that confuses you. Has he just put his masked lips on you?
You need to blink several times, clear your throat and reply: "That wasn't... real. Only some sort of film-kiss. No real kiss, you know?"
"It was lips on lips, hen. Half way up tae geez a winch, eh? Sounds much like a kiss tae me."
"Bloody looked like one as well."
"And tasted so, too. Yer such a nice addin tae Scotch whisky, bonnie."
You swallow - speechless, considering the turn this conversation is taking. You want to come up with some witty remark - but you totally lack any clever ideas... You play for time, reaching out to the bar counter, taking a sip from your drink.
You notice the blond's hand close around his own glas. It's only when Mohawk places his right hand on your hip that Mask lets go of the other's arm. To you it’s nothing but coincidence. The only thing you do know is that Mask will now turn his face towards the bar, away from the crowd, before pulling one sling of the mask off from behind his ear to take a good swig of his beer. You watched him do so many times in the past while you were observing the two of them. - Enough of a reprieve for you to sort out and contemplate your feelings.
You convince yourself that you shouldn't read too much into their flirty behaviour. After all, these two men are a gay couple. You will just enjoy yourself. Clearly no reason to get flustered, right? Have fun and flirt back - and let them kiss you if they like. For your part, you liked the kiss(es?) - real or not!
Then the fabric is back in place and Johnny grins at him, a thin-lipped, intense little smile, that suits his half-lidded eyes: "Ah bet she'd taste delicious with tha drink of yers as well, Simon."
The pale man hums in anticipation, a deep, rich sound, promising. "We shall see."
Still trapped between the two them, you turn to Mask as far as possible, attempting a self-confident smile in response: "Now shall we?"
His right hand lands at the nape of your neck, his thumb ghosting soft circles on your skin. "Guess so, sweet'eart. Or do you think we haven't noticed you staring and watching", your eyes go wide and the crinkles growing around his eyes tell you that he’s smiling, "at any occasion, right, Johnny?"
"Aye, very accurate, Si. Studyin us as if it was her job."
Despite the fact that he's talking to the mask (Simon!), Mohawk (Johnny!) is looking at you solely. "Like some spy, gatherin intel or so."
Spy?! Something in his voice makes you believe that this might not entirely be a joke. On the one hand, you're shocked about the fact that - obviously - you are far worse at people-watching than you thought. How embarassing! But on the other hand, it’s such an appealing idea that they think you capable of actually being such femme fatale. Thrilling! (Or worrisome?)
However, ... what would there be to spy about them, anyway? Despite their scars, testimony of various hardships, they'd hardly be some modern James Bonds...
Well, you couldn't care less! This evening is the most exciting thing since... Oh, don't rack your brains, honey!
You bite your lower lip as not to let them see the wide grin that would definitely threaten to appear on your face. "I'm no spy." A soft smile in your voice can be heard unmistakenly as you are about to look down to where your and Johnny's bodies are touching, but, within a split second, Simon's hand reaches around your throat, with the softest of pressures only, and keeps your head tilt up with his index finger.
"Luckily, you're not", Simon's voice, close to your ear, sends a shiver down your spine.
Johnny's words make it whip straight into your core, the promise of an underlying danger: "Good fer ye, lassie, and good fer us. Win/win situation. Rare enough." His hand seems to burn on your hip. And once more your world shrinks down to these two strangers.
Simon's mask touches your earlobe: "Had a bet whether you would take the first step, doll."
"And what a first step tha was, bonnie, placin yerself in my arms, makin me yer man. Sweetest compensation fer me losing." He winks at you conspicously, daringly, but you are still processing their words.
Simon lets go of your throat when you take your drink again. You drain the rest of your glas in one go.
"Finished?", the Scotsman asks, "Then cummoan."
You glance around the taproom. "Have you seen where she went to after she'd left us alone?", you ask.
It's Simon who answers your question. "Left the bar some time ago with her friends."
You nod, relieved immensely, for you wouldn't like her to come across you sitting here all by yourself. "That's good. OK. Have a nice evening then, you two." You try a good-natured smile. It makes you a bit sad that your night together has already come to an abrupt end.
The roguish look Simon and Johnny exchange with each other goes completely unnoticed by you.
Now Mohawk playfully nudges you with his shoulder, slowly, tenderly, as not to really push you away with it. "Wiz talkin tae ye, hen. Had the impression it got pretty obvious that the three of us would be leavin thegether."
This is an unexpected turn...
You stare at the grinning man in front of you, dumbfounded, kind of, speechless.
Could I possibly misinterpret their intention regarding the things to come?
The way Johnny's looking at you makes unmistakenly clear: he means it; however, they won't coax you into anything you wouldn't want - you can decline, put a stop to it, anytime; they themselves wouldn't offer anything they disliked, either. No obligations.
You turn to get a look at the man behind you. He holds your incredulous gaze, unblinking, followed by one single affirmative nod.
This can’t be happening...
Their directness, sincerity, makes your decision an easy one.
Too good to be true...
A playful smile starts to spread on your lips. You only wish your voice sounded firmer when you finally answer. "I'd like that. So what happens now?"
Johnny's palms run up your arms and down again. "Listen, bonnie: ye set the pace. All ye need to ponder about is the timing, eh?"
"The timing?", you ask, slightly confused.
"Aye. Make up yer mind, take a moment tae decide. We've got plenty o' time. Ye can have anything."
You're still no wiser when Johnny addresses his mate as if you weren't there and listening: "Ah'm curious tae see what she will pick. Ah bet she's already gone through every scenario in her head since she started watching us, our wee minx." Simon slowly nods in response. "Got that impression, too."
On your way out, you're comfortably tugged in between the two almost-strangers who have just happened to become your two boyfriends by accident. Johnny’s got his arm around your waist again, a heavy, pleasant reminder, solid warmth, whereas Simon's massive hand is a crisp burn at the back of your neck, alluring autumn on your skin, the phantom of a chill ready to reach under your surface.
The moment the three of you are out of earshot, the masked man helps you to see things clearly, to understand the transition from fantasy to reality:
"So, how do you want us, love? One after the other - or both of us at the same time?"
155 notes · View notes
classycookiexo · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
216 notes · View notes
spaceshipsandpurpledrank · 3 months ago
Text
184 notes · View notes
viceandmature · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sex Education Season 2 / Good Omens Season 2
544 notes · View notes
misandresther · 7 months ago
Text
My advice to young women is (because older women already know this from experience): Never be nice to men, Don't treat them like decent human beings, because whenever you do, they assume you want to sleep with them
131 notes · View notes
chicaotaku17 · 8 months ago
Text
PLEASE BE CAREFUL, I received this messages from this account. The screenshot speaks for itself
Tumblr media
97 notes · View notes
miraculous-floconfettis · 4 months ago
Text
"NO" means "NO".
I've been watching Miraculous again (because, why not?) and i feel like we haven't talked enough about this scene between Ladybug and "Adrien" in the Félix episode:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
This scene could have happened between any other characters and wouldn't be less empowering, but the message conveyed here is even more powerful because it happened between Ladybug and (who she thought was) Adrien.
It's always easier to push someone away when the person is a complete a**hole, but even if the guy is your crush, even if he's the most awesome and sweetest guy in the world and you're in love with him, you shouldn't be afraid to ask for respect.
"NO" means "NO".
Tumblr media
45 notes · View notes
strawberrypinky · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
~ just because recent events have called for this again ~
-
read my psa on consent (in fanfiction) HERE
274 notes · View notes
nobody-important099 · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
50 notes · View notes
theereina · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Coercion, whether gentle or aggressive, is not consent. Don't let anyone make you feel like you can't say "no". The word "no" is a final answer that you should never have to explain.
I'm sorry to any person, regardless of gender, who has had to deal with this.
37 notes · View notes
axiseart · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
No.
301 notes · View notes
princess-kurosaki · 3 months ago
Text
“i want to be just like you.”
those words haunt me, no you don’t.
i’m damaged. i gained this confidence from abuse, from being held against my will at the mercy of that man. you don’t want to be just like me. i’m hell on wheels and to some people that’s a compliment but to me it’s a painful reminder that the rage in me isn’t mine, i was such a sweet girl before that night. i never wanted to be fearless. i never wanted to be forced to learn how to speak up, see now when i speak up for myself my voice doesn’t shake, my hands don’t sweat. i can stand my ground and challenge you at the same time but that’s not who i wanted to be… i was supposed to stay innocent, i was supposed to remain that sweet girl.
the confidence i have, the rage i have, the energy that surrounds me… isn’t my own, you see it’s a response.. from that night, from the night when the girl i used to be died.
20 notes · View notes
sometimes-men-need-help-too · 3 months ago
Text
22 notes · View notes