#slight misogyny

[sirmanmister]

The Father(s) and Son(s)

The sound of exactly twenty-three caps hitting the table was distractingly clear in the noise of the loud room, and MacCready’s abrupt laugh was even louder.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” he laughed, and Damien scowled. “Jeez I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything serious out of a Vault dweller, but this is down-right hilarious!”

“C’mon, man, I haven’t exactly had time for a job, alright? I’ll get you more if you can tell me where Kellogg is."

Or: Damien’s paternal instincts get projected onto a stubborn young mercenary.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43924293/chapters/110441163

Chapter 1: The Mercenary

Music drifted over the Third Rail like fog on an early morning, the air just as humid and thick with unwashed bodies and sour beer. 

The lights were dim, the floor crowded and loud as patrons day-drank, and a pretty woman in a red dress stepped onto the stage in the corner, giving small waves as the crowd cheered.

She began her set, a lilting jazz song that lulled the rowdiness of the drunks; a pleasant background noise to the mumbled chatter that echoed down the subway tunnel that the bar was built in.

“Hey, handsome, you got a light?”

A man swathed in a blue jumpsuit looked down to see a young woman hanging onto his arm, looking up at him with big brown eyes and mascara’d lashes, which she fluttered up at him.

He almost couldn’t hear her over the din of the room and the deafness in his left ear. 

“I’ll lend it to you if you answer a question,” Damien said with a raised brow, ancient Bostonian accent slinging his words loose.

“‘Course, sugar,” the woman giggled, a hand wrapping around his waist.  

“I’m lookin’ for a guy,” he said.  “Got a kid with him, less than a year old.  Have you seen him?”

He held up a piece of scrap paper, where he had drawn out a crude visage of the man that had killed his wife and taken his son.

“Oh,” the woman said, her rosy red lips pressing into a frown.  “Why’re you lookin’ for him?”  Her tone turned sour, accusing, and she tried to step away.

Damien’s arm shot out and snatched the hand she put at his waist, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know him?” He asked. “Do you know where Kellogg is?”

“‘Course I don’t, you sick fuck,” the woman said, wrenching her arm away.  “I don’t even wanna know what you want with him.  Stay away from me.”

He let her dissolve back into the crowd, scowling.

Nick had warned him of this.

Conrad Kellogg was a bad, bad man.

Assassinations, extortion, torture, kidnapping, it was all just services he offered.  He’d do any job out there, so long as the pay was right. Diamond City was too good for a man like Kellogg, but Goodneighbour wasn’t.  People in places like these gave people like Kellogg business, people recognized him, knew his name before Damien could open his mouth, but nobody was talking.

They didn’t know Damien like they knew Nick, who was wrapped up in conversation with a Mr. Handy at the bar, surrounded with people he had helped in the past.

They knew he was a detective, more man than machine, they knew he had good reasons to look for Kellogg.

But the people Damien talked to, begged for information, they didn’t know him.  They saw a man desperate to find another renowned for his cruelty, and they would have no part in assisting him, brushing him away before he could explain his reasons, and when he did, it didn’t matter in the end— Nobody knew where Kellogg was.

None of the few people Damien had talked to did, at least.

There were at least two dozen people in the bar, somebody had to know something. He couldn’t give up so easily.

He approached a table in the corner, where four women sat, and he offered a smile.

“Excuse me ladies, I hate to bother you, but do you mind if I ask you a couple questions?” he asked, and they shared glances as they giggled. 

“Ooh, this one’s got manners!” one cooed.

“That’s rare nowadays.  Maybe we should have been looking for a Vault boy this whole time,” another said.

“Ooh, exotic,” another woman laughed.

“Always loved the polite ones.  You keep anything but muscles in that tight-fittin’ Vault suit of yours?” the fourth woman teased, reaching out to brush Damien’s leg.

He stepped back, fighting a blush and not succeeding.

“Sorry, I’m really just lookin’ for a guy, alright?  He looks like this.”  He put his drawing of Kellogg on the table, and they passed it around. 

“Handsome. Looks like my ex!” one woman said.

“The one who fucked a ghoul?” another asked.

“The very one! Too bad that feral killed the bastard, I wanted to do it myself.”

“Oh, I always thought Jared was sweet.  Aside from the ghoul thing, of course.”

“C’mon, cut the gas, girls.  I’m being serious,” Damien urged.  “This guy kidnapped my son and killed my wife, okay? He’s dangerous.  Have you heard anything about this guy? Anything at all?”

Damien’s voice lilted to desperate at the end, and he forced himself to swallow down the emotion.  He’d hardly been able to control them the past few days, and he was getting damn tired of being a hat’s toss away from bursting into tears.  A man should have had better control over himself. 

The ladies, whom Damien was now realizing were quite intoxicated, all took on strange expressions.

“Ugh, I’m never going to find love again,” one sighed dramatically.

“Don’t be so hasty,” another chided.  “Dads have a sort of wild side to them that they can’t let out with the kids around.”

“You could be my daddy anyday,” another giggled.

“Oh you poor thing,” the last woman said, ignoring her colleagues.  “Too bad about your kid, but if you ever want to make another one…”

She winked and all her friends squealed with laughter, chastising her for being so naughty.

Damien, meanwhile, was trying to decide if he was the type of man to hit a woman.

“You fuckin’ skanks,” he hissed instead, fists balled at his sides.  “Choke on your own dad’s dick, you fucking cunts.”  

They all laughed and cooed and mocked him as Damien hurried away, trying to reel in his fury before it bubbled up to something worse.  

Beneath the anger, he was appalled; at the women, and at himself.  Damien had never been so disrespectful to any lady in his life, but the insults had poured out of him like a bitter drink that he couldn’t stop, and he hadn’t wanted to. 

Who were they to make such lewd jokes and comments while Damien’s son was on the line? How could they hear of his tragedy and have the gall to laugh in his face? Damien felt his insults were justified, but there was an undercurrent of shame with it, his own morals trodden in the absence of their own. 

But Damien couldn’t even fathom the idea of trying to apologize without red encroaching on the corners of his vision. 

As much as the women deserved to have their teeth kicked in, picking a fight wouldn’t do him or Shaun any good.

So Damien forced himself to calm, rubbing his thumbs across the crescent moon marks his fingernails had made in his palms and took slow, deliberate breaths.  Shaun was the only thing that mattered, not those bitches. 

After a few, long moments, his head finally cleared enough to think straight, and Damien sunk back into the crowd, casting the women from his thoughts as he went from table to table, apologizing for interrupting to the more open patrons and plowing right over their conversations to the more cagey ones.  Most of them were unhelpful, and a few were apologetic when he told them what Kellogg had done to Nora and Shaun, but most told him to fuck off once they’d answered his questions.

He came across a group of stereotypical rough guys playing poker around a table.

“‘Scuse me, fellas,” Damien greeted, internally wincing as the laughter he’d just interrupted died away.  “Can I-?”

“Aw fuck off, man,” one man huffed.  “We’ve seen you wanderin’ all over.  You lookin’ for a mercenary, go find MacCready and stop botherin’ us.”

Damien paused.

“Where’s this MacCready guy?”

“VIP room over there,” the man said, gesturing to a room across the pub.  “He’s a lil’ guy, all skinny with a stupid hat.  Can’t miss him.”

“Thanks.”  Damien turned and hurried away. 

It was better than nothing.

Nick was wrapped up in a conversation with a small group of drifters, so Damien didn’t bother trying to get his attention, venturing to the VIP room alone.  At first he was surprised that there was no bouncer, until he realized exactly who inhabited the room.

Intimidating men and one or two women sat at couches and tables in the small, humid space, talking loudly and sipping on beers.  Rough, scarred, armoured.  These people didn’t need protection, they were the protection.  

Damien scanned the crowd, eyes washing over the tough guys and bad boys until his gaze landed on a figure in the back. 

He wore a tan duster and green conductor’s cap, sitting alone with a beer in hand.  He was young, slender, but obviously quite lean underneath his oversized clothes. 

He wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t quite fit in, so easy to spot with that bright hat. 

Bingo. 

Damien approached and asked, “You MacCready?” 

His shadow fell over the slight man like a comedically oppressive force, and the mercenary puffed himself up, becoming rigid and sharp and his fingers tightened white around his beer bottle.

“I am,” MacCready replied, eyes narrowed.  “The hell do you want?”

“To talk to you,” Damien said calmly.  “Heard you’re a mercenary.  Mind if I sit?”

MacCready’s brow creased slightly, and his eyes raked up and down Damien’s form, hesitant when they landed on blue.  He seemed to realize he’d misread the situation, and slowly sat back.

“Fine,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him, so Damien sat.  “This about a job?”

“A job somebody else did,” Damien said.  “There’s a guy I’m looking for, and he’s a mercenary, too.  I was wondering if you two might have crossed paths.”

He slid Kellogg’s paper across the table. 

MacCready frowned at it, thinking, then huffed and crossed his arms.

“I don’t do things for free,” he said simply.  

Oh.

Damien should have known.  MacCready was a mercenary.  Everything had a pricetag. 

Since Nick had brought Damien into the loop about the world’s current currency, Damien had made sure to start looting the almost-garbage bottle caps from the raiders he had encountered on the way to Goodneighbour, but even he knew he didn’t have much. 

The sound of exactly twenty-three caps hitting the table was distractingly clear in the noise of the loud room, and MacCready’s abrupt laugh was even louder.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” he laughed, and Damien scowled.  “Jeez I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything serious out of a Vault dweller, but this is down-right hilarious!”

“C’mon, man, I haven’t exactly had time for a job, alright? I’ll get you more if you can tell me where this guy is,” Damien said. 

MacCready snorted.

“What, first day in the wasteland?” 

“Third, actually,” Damien huffed, and MacCready’s brows rose in a sarcastic “ooh is that so?” sort of way over his bottle.  

“Look, alright, I get it.  This ain’t a lot of money, but I’m a man of my word, and-”

“Oh please,” MacCready interrupted with a scoff.  “If I believed every guy that said they were a man of their word, I would be dead at least eleven times over.  I don’t care if you’ve been in the wasteland for ten years or ten hours, I don’t owe you anything.”

He said it with so much finality that Damien almost believed him.

Almost.

“‘Course not,” Damien replied.  “Nobody owes nobody shit.  I’ve just gotta know, are you buddies with this guy? Don’t wanna snitch cuz he’ll do somethin’ to you?”

Now that Damien thought about it, why was a kid doing work like this? MacCready couldn’t have been much older than twenty.  Mercenary work was brutal, Damien was sure, but money was money, and if this kid was in debt…

“Nobody does nothing to me,” MacCready said firmly.  “And I don’t do nothing for nobody, unless they pay me.  Which you can’t, so goodbye.”

Damien’s hands clenched and unclenched under the table.

“I bet you don’t even know the guy I’m talking about,” he scoffed, indignant as anger throbbed like an ache in the back of his head.  “Ruthless.  Cold.  This guy is one of the big ones, cost you a fortune just to make him take your garbage out.”  Damien shook his head and spat.  “He’d never want to hang out with a small fry like you anyway.”

MacCready wrinkled his nose, glaring at Damien as his grip tightened around his beer again.

“And I take that as a compliment for my moral standards,” he sneered.  “Kellogg is batsh- Uh, nevermind.”

MacCready realized his mistake when Damien lit up.

“So you do know him?” 

“Even if I did, it’s none of your business.” 

“His entire fucking life is my business, because I’m going to fucking kill him,”

MacCready’s eyes narrowed, and Damien’s declaration hung in the air for a long moment.

“You want to find Kellogg, you can find two hundred caps and buy the info off me,” MacCready said, and it truly was final this time, his arms crossed and chin raised with youthful stubbornness.

Damien wondered if he was too proud to hit a teenager.

A flood of hopelessness suddenly swelled, washing over Damien like a tsunami, snuffing out his rage like water to a flame as he drowned.  

He leaned back in his chair and pressed his burning face into his hands, eyes stinging with shame.  

Information on Shaun’s kidnapper was right there, but Damien was utterly powerless to get it because of a goddamn paywall.

It was a measly two hundred bucks, his monthly car payments cost more, but Damien was such a lousy father he couldn’t cough it up for the most important boy in the world.  

Shaun could be anywhere by now.  He could be dead, or dying, or worse, and Damien couldn’t help him because of money he was stupid enough to not have. 

“Aw jeez, are you crying?” MacCready winced, obviously uncomfortable, but he made no move to extend condolences.

Damien let out a hollow laugh that nearly turned into a sob, and he struggled to hold the rest of his tears back as he rested his elbows on the table.

He couldn’t even blame MacCready, really.  No man worth his salt broke into tears at simply being told “no.” 

“Aw c’mon, dude, don’t make a scene,” MacCready chastised.  “Be a man about it.  There’s still some dignity in this.”

“You really think I’ve walked around half of Boston in a blue onesie worried about my dignity?” Damien laughed bitterly, and raised his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  Maybe when you’re older you’ll care about someone so much that dignity’s the last thing on your mind.”

For some reason, that struck a chord.

“Who the hell says I don’t care about somebody that much?” MacCready snapped.  “You don’t know me, pal.  You don’t know what I’ve done.  You don’t know the sacrifices I’ve made for people, how much stupid dignity I’ve given up already, alright? So don’t give me that bullcrap.”

Damien could hardly muster the energy to lean back in his chair, much less raise his voice and get into some pointless argument about sacrifice. 

“Do you want to be a father, Mac?” Damien asked quietly, and the merc went silent.  “Because I am one.  It’s a different kinda love, y’know?  I loved my wife with my whole heart, but there are some things I wouldn’t do for her, right?  But my son? I would claw the moon outta the damn sky if he asked.”

MacCready glanced away, but Damien continued, monotone and tired.

“This guy…” he gestured a limp hand to Kellogg’s drawing.  “He murdered my wife and stole my infant son out of her cold, dead arms.  He kidnapped my baby boy, and you’re telling me to have some goddamn dignity?” Damien let out a congested, bitter laugh, followed by a sniffle.  “I pray to god you’ll never have a kid you can’t protect, Mac.  This is a new kind of hell.”

MacCready flinched.  

It was barely noticeable, barely more than a twitch, but his brow creased and his mouth pressed into a straight thin line.

Tense, miserable silence followed, and it was a long time before either man spoke.

“...Kellogg kidnapped your kid, huh?” MacCready said quietly, eyes glued to the table.

“Even went through the effort to break into our Vault to do it.”

MacCready nodded slowly and let out a sigh, then looked at Damien.  Something familiar shone in those bright blue eyes, something that Damien had seen in the mirror more times than he could count.  

Guilt.

“Listen, I’m not in the habit of accepting such crap offers, so you keep this on the down low, understand?” MacCready hissed under his breath as he swept the caps off the table and into his pocket, and Damien’s eyes widened.  He nodded quickly, leaning forward so fast he almost got a head rush.   

“Kellogg is bad news with a capital B, alright? You don’t want to mess with him.  He’s one of the most dangerous men in the Commonwealth, and he knows it.  No job’s too dirty for him, and he’s dang good at what he does,” MacCready said, still hushed.  “When people tell him no witnesses, there are no witnesses.”

“But… he left me alive,” Damien said, and MacCready shrugged.

“Then whoever hired him must have not wanted you dead,” he said.  “Whatever the case, this guy is a professional.  Heard he doesn’t even have any enemies because he’s killed them all.”

Except for me, Damien thought, hands balling into fists, nails digging into the tender spots of his palms.  He almost didn’t care how or why somebody had hired Kellogg, but there were too many questions that begged for answers.  Why kidnap a baby? Why kill his mother but leave his father alive? How had they gotten inside the Vault? How had they even known there were people alive down there in the first place?  

“He comes through here every so often to pick up a few jobs that nobody else’ll touch,” MacCready continued.  “But I haven’t seen him in… eight weeks, I think? He was up on the street with some black guy in a weird leather jacket, talking about doing a big job and that he was needed in… Fort Haggis?”  

“Fort Hagen?”  Damien supplied.  An old Army base to the East.  He had been posted there a few times during the War.

“That’s the one,” MacCready said, snapping his fingers.  “Yeah.  Then they both gave me the stink eye for eavesdropping and I left pretty quick.  Because like I said, you don’t mess with Kellogg.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Damien said, and he meant it.  

“It doesn’t matter if you’re scared or not, he’s going to turn you into dust,” MacCready scoffed, but there was a lilt of irritation to his words, like he didn’t enjoy the thought of Damien going and throwing his life at something he saw as guaranteed death.  “You may think you’re hot sh- You may think you’re all that because you made it to Goodneighbour in one piece, but I’m warning you, man, Kellogg is dangerous.”

“Thanks, Mac, but don’t worry about me,” Damien said, making to stand.  “I’m dangerous, too.”

“Oh cut that badass crap,” MacCready snorted.  “And I’m not worried about you.  I’m just saying that if you were smart, you’d wait until you could scrounge up the money and hire an extra gun to help you.”

Damien chuckled and clapped MacCready on the shoulder, accidentally jostling the smaller man.

“‘Spose you’d be that extra gun, huh?” he teased, but then said sincerely, “I really appreciate your help, MacCready.  I won’t be forgetting it any time soon.”

MacCready seemed baffled by Damien’s earnesty, and blurted out, “Good luck finding your son.”

Damien smiled, nodded, and left.  He’d had enough detours— There was no time to waste.  

He ran into Nick by the stairs, where he was talking with a ghoul in a black tux, which Damien belatedly realized was the cleanest piece of clothing he’d seen thus far.

“Ah, there he is,” Nick said, turning.  “Where’d you run off to?”

“I got a lead,” Damien said in a rush, and Nick’s brow plates rose.  “Fort Hagen.  I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

He grabbed Nick’s arm and hauled the synth up the stairs, casting a brief “Have a nice afternoon,” to the disgruntled ghoul they left in the dust.

They were out of Goodneighbour and Damien was already mentally plotting a route to Fort Hagen when Nick placed a gentle hand on his arm, cold and rubbery, prompting him to stop his rushed pace through the ruined streets.  

“Hey.  Kellogg is no man to mess with,” Nick said.  “There’s a reason he’s been at the top of the game for so long, we can’t just rush in there without a plan.”

Offence rose like flames, and Damien bared his teeth. 

“He has my son,” he hissed.  “I don’t fucking care who he is, I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m sure you will,” Nick said, holding up his hands placatingly.  “But it might kill you, too, and that doesn’t do your son any favours.”

Damien blew air through his nose hard, nostrils flaring as he glared at the ground past Nick’s kind face.  He knew that, of course he knew that, but what else was he supposed to do? Not even try?

“Listen, let’s stop by Diamond City, it’s already on our way.  I want to stop in and tell Ellie I’m okay, and we can get you stocked up with armour and ammo, huh? We’re going to need all the firepower we can spare.”

Damien was quiet a long moment. 

“I don’t have any more money,” he admitted.  “Spent it getting info.”

“I’ll foot the bill,” Nick said easily.  “Owe you that much.”

Damien thought back to MacCready for just a moment, a brief fire of his brain as he contemplated asking Nick for two hundred dollars to get an extra gun, but he already knew that was asking too much.  He didn’t even want to go back into Goodneighbour, not while Finn’s body still lay in the street and skeevy people leered at his Vault suit, and MacCready was just a kid, anyway, no reason to put another one at risk. 

“Okay,” Damien said eventually.  “Lead the way.”

Chapter 2: Link

[aimlessetymology]

cannibalism

on loving people so much you want them to be a part of you forever, to consume and absorb them into your very being

licking remnants of them from your teeth, even just after a love bite or licking their wounds

seeing someone you're attracted to and wanting to tear into them, bite, gnaw, whatever,

and for anyone caught in the desperation that forms from mistreatment

an abuse victim, a woman coerced into dieting to appease something patriarchal in her life

the hunger that develops from deprivation after so long

when dwelling on it for even a few too many seconds starts a chain reaction

in the throat

working its way into the stomach and tying it into knots

hungering for something that'll satisfy you, really satisfy you

like being able to say with certainty that you have any amount of a certain someone else coursing through your veins

[angelyuji]

mr. pines

stanley pines x f!reader

reader needs a job really badly and stanford pines gives her a job... with a couple conditions.

tw // noncon, power imbalance, older man/younger woman, old man stan being gross, slight misogyny (mostly the pet names), also plss lmk if i missed anything

18+!!!!!!!! pls!!! pls!!! mind the tw and tags (also this is posted on my ao3 acc as well!)

you’ve been scrounging around for a job since you moved to gravity falls. finally, after a couple of months of begging around, the diner waitress, susan, had told you that the stan pines might be hiring at the mystery shack. you had promised the landlord that you’d give them the rent as soon as you find a job, but you can tell they were getting tired of letting you stay rent free.

you had walked to the mystery shack, only a 15-minute walk from the apartment. when you walk in, you’re hit with the smell of sandalwood and glue. you walk over to the red-headed teenager at the cashier stand.

“hey, uh- lazy susan said you guys were hiring?” she looks up from her phone to think for a second.

“oh really? um i guess you can check with stan. his office is right down the hall. he should be in there right now.” she points down the dark hallway to your right and goes right back to her phone. you thank her and she gives you a smile in response. goosebumps rise on your skin as you walk down the eerie, dark hallway. you were starting to second guess your choice of jobs, but you knock on the office door before you chicken out.

“come in.” a gruff voice calls from inside. you swallow and open the door.

“hi! i’m here to apply for a job at the mystery shack.” you smile and shut the door behind you. the only light in the room from the windows in the office. he hums and doesn’t say anything. he gestures to the chair next to him. you sit down and look around the messy office. a taxidermized animal head, a statue of an owl, a huge safe, all sorts of odd things litter the office.

“what are some of your qualifications?” he grunts out, surprising you. you list out your old jobs and hand over the resume that you brought. he gives it a once-over before tossing it into the trash can next to him.

“oh i needed that ba-” he holds a hand up and you shut your mouth. you don’t say anything as he leans back in his chair.

“you’ve got potential, (y/n).” he nods, “but… i don’t really want to pay anyone and it doesn’t seem like we really need the people all that much.” he shrugs.

you start to panic, reaching out and grabbing his hand, “please, mr. pines. i really need this job.” you beg and you watch him think for a couple minutes before smiling.

he clears his throat, “you know what, sweetheart? come back after the shack is closed, then we’ll talk about a job.” he stands up, your hands falling back to your sides, and you realize how much taller he was than you, how much more intimidating he was.

you pause to think, but realizing you have no other choice, “sure, i guess i’ll be back around 10 then.” he opens the door, but takes up most of the exit. you squeeze out from around him.

“i’ll see you then, sweetcheeks.” you feel eyes on your ass as you leave the shack. unfortunately, time goes by quickly and you’re back at the mystery shack. your stomach turns, warning you to make the right choice. you quietly go inside and notice that only the lights in stan’s office were on.

you fumble through the shop to the closed door. “hello?” you knock. mr. pines calls out for you to come in. you enter and you see him sitting on his desk, waiting for you. you clear your throat, “hi mr. pines.” he quirks an eyebrow at you and gets up. you force yourself to not back away as he comes closer to you. he walks past you and closes the door. you hear the quiet click of the lock and you feel chills go down your spine. alarms start going off in your head as he goes back and collapses into the chair. he leans back in his chair, groaning.

“so, you want a job here?” stan raises an eyebrow. you nod, “hmm… maybe i can help you, dollface.”

you let out a sigh in relief, “thank you so much, mr. pines. i’ll do anything, i really need this job.”

“anything, huh.” he nods with a smirk. you nod, eagerly.

“i’ll scrub walls, wash your car, or work from open to close! i will do literally anything!”

“you don’t have to do anything like that, sugarpie” you tilt your head, suddenly hearing the pet names. “you’ll just have to do a small little favor for me.” you don’t respond, hoping he’d explain. he gestures for you to come closer. you walk over to his desk and he turns the chair to face you. “kneel down for me.”

you awkwardly giggle, “what?” mr. pines looks at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

“kneel down.” he stands up, you feel your heart drop. stan pines towers over you and grabs a fistful of your hair. he pushes you down and you yelp as your scalp stings. you try to crawl away, but he doesn’t let go of your hair. he uses one hand to unbuckle his belt and let his pants drop. his cock hangs, big and girthy. your eyes go wide.

“mr. pines. please, don’t. i don’t want to do this.” you beg, feeling the panic rise and tears start to well up in your eyes. he looks down at you with a smirk, but let’s go. you scramble up and back against the wall. he sits back down, nonchalantly.

“fine, you can leave, sweetheart.” he shrugs. you back away quickly, hoping to get out of the office as fast as possible. “but…” you pause as your hand touches the doorknob, “you need me, baby. suzie told me about you: new girl with no job, relentless landlord, and not a single friend in town.” he laughs, deep and unsettling.

“fuck. you. i’m going to the cops and i’ll tell them what you did.” you turn and glare, voice dripping in malice. you twist the doorknob, planning to get the hell out of the place.

he stares at you, a smirk resting on his face. you felt frozen in place. “and what then? the people of gravity falls know me, toots. they know of my… reputation. they’re gonna tell you that you should’ve known better. i mean,” he barks out a laugh, “you came to the mystery shack after hours to see me. you should’ve known.” your hand drops from the doorknob. you stare at your feet. “i could help you, (y/n). i’ll pay you good money as long as you meet my requests.” you look up, tears dripping down your face, and stan smiles. he gestures for you to come closer. you, reluctantly, come back to stand in front of him. you make sure to keep your eyes away from his undone pants.

“what-what do you want me to do?” you sniffle. with surprising gentleness, he grabs your hand and helps you to your knees. he cups your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“all you have to do is do what i say. it’s a win-win situation, toots.” you start to feel yourself going numb. his hand leaves your face and he leans back. you inch closer, carefully placing your hands on his thighs. you move one hand up to gingerly wrap it around his cock. you hear him grunt at your touch and your vision starts to blur as your tears flow harder. you steady yourself on his thigh and stroke his dick.

stan groans, but you hear more irritation than arousal. “you don’t have to be so gentle, sweetheart. it won’t bite.” he growls. you swallow back the bile rising in your throat and tighten your grip a little more. with each stroke, stan’s grunts progressively louder. you watch as pre-cum leaks from his tip and feel his dick get harder with every stroke. but as you feel his thighs tense, stan grabs your hand.

“come closer.” he rasped. you inch closer, “i need you to open your mouth, sweetheart.” you hold back a gag and shake your head. stan grabs you by the chin and pulls you closer, you tighten your lips. stan chuckles before letting go of your chin to pinch your nose. your eyes widen, unable to think or breathe. you open your mouth to take a breath and stan lets go of your nose to shove two fingers into your mouth. you gag around his thick fingers, “you are just so beautiful, dollface, i can’t wait to use you every day.” he whispered and you feel a sudden wave of heat in your lower belly. he pulls his fingers out and you try to look away, but stan’s hand tangles itself in your hair. your eyes trail down from his face to his other hand, gripping his thick cock.

“wait-” you choke out, but stan pulls your head forward and plows himself into your mouth. he moves your head frantically, you choke and gargle as saliva and pre-cum drips down your throat and face. tears flow freely from your eyes as you were used as a worthless sex toy. you can feel yourself getting wetter and you feel disgusted.

“oh god, sugar, you feel so good. so. fucking. good.” he groans out, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. you could feel the tip of his dick almost going down your throat. you could see black spots dancing in your vision and you hit stan’s thighs, praying for a reprieve. you swallow around stan’s cock, trying to bring yourself back to consciousness, and stan moans. “oh, fuck,” stan’s hips stutter and he pushes your head down. your nose hits his springy, gray, pubic hair and you can feel his cock pulse as he cums down your throat. his hand loosens from your hair and you lurch backwards, gagging at the leftover taste of his bitter, salty, hot cum. you stumbled to the ground, leaning back against the wall, with your knees pressed to your chest.

“oh god, oh god.” you sob. stan gets up, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. he gets his wallet out and tosses forward a couple hundred-dollar bills. “consider this your signing bonus.” he pulls something out of his drawer and tosses a contract in front of you. “once you sign this, you’re a full-time mystery shack employee.” he walks to the door and opens it to leave, but looks back at you, “you’re a good lay, toots. i’ll see you tomorrow at 6. don’t be late.” he turns and walks out, leaving you shivering and humiliated.

[lesinquietes]

Farmer!Enji, who figures out which path you take into town on Monday mornings — errand day for your Pa — and meets you halfway. It’s your first time chatting just the two of you. He asks what you’re doing, where you’re going, and if you want company during your walk. He tells you it’s nice to see a pretty young woman helping her father the way she ought to. Then, he asks if you want him to reward your efforts in a way no one has before. Curious, and foolish, you agree. The way the buttons fly, when he digs his big hand into the folds of your plaid shirt and yanks, is crookedly satisfying. They spill everywhere in the bushes while he hikes your leg up and strokes his giant member along your smaller slit. He sinks you down on his swollen, red tip, splitting you apart. Your pleated jean skirt flips up as he bullies your tightness, invading your depths so he can ensure you’re pregnant after this encounter. It’ll help when he tells your father he’s taking you as his new bride. He doesn’t stop until you’re drenched with sweat, and remnants of his seed are coating your puffy lower lips.

Previous / Next

ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ ᴀᴜ

[housecow]

what are some things other than feedism and breeding that you’re into?

being loved and cherished 😭😭 also rocks and fossils, i know a crazy amount about the geologic timeline and texas geology :3

i know you probs mean kinks though!! i’m into some other things i prefer to keep between me and who i’m with 🫣

[princelylove]

I think it’s fairly obvious that mafiosi would have at least some sexism going on. It’s just shown differently, and it's hard to put them all in the same category because their psychology is different. For my freaks who happen to be into a little misogyny/sexism:

Call Guido old fashioned, but he thinks it’s wrong to be rough with a girl. It rubs him the wrong way. Yeah, of course girls can do whatever we can, he’s all for them working and voting and all the good stuff, but you just shouldn’t treat a girl like that. He tends to say ‘girl’ instead of ‘woman,’ even when he’s referring to someone that’s implied to be older than he is. 

When Guido interrogates Scolippi in the english dub, he says “I should end you for killing a girl,” and “You killed an innocent girl, psycho,” which could just be intentionally guilt tripping Scolippi, but Guido isn’t the guilt type. He’s an immediate physical punishment type. He hates men that harm women, no matter the degree. 

If he ends up having a crush on someone who is masculine, you might not notice at all (unless you pick up on his hesitation). Guido’s always been fairly handsy, he’ll put his arm around Pannacotta (who normally shoves him off), he picks up Narancia and won’t let him down until he gets his good morning cheek kiss, he’ll bother Giorno until he gets a little smoochie-woochie (said like that because he knows Giorno hates that sort of talk), and he sits way too close to his darling. He’s microdosing physical contact until he gets the nerve to actually touch you like he does Panna and Nara… Guys can play around, too, you know. But it’s different with his darling! He psyches himself out most times until he can find excuses to get handsy- like, he was just hugging Panna, he’s not gonna leave you out. Come on, man, you know you want one. 

With a feminine darling, he tries to be touchy and affectionate in the friend stage too, but he’s a little scared. You may notice his hands trembling as he picks you up, or that when he puts his arm around your waist, his hand hovers instead of resting on you. He’s strong enough to hold you up for quite a while, he’s just nervous. Poor guy. He gets rather panicky when he sees a girl in distress, if he ever scared you off, he doesn't even know what he'd do.

Narancia copies Bruno, but less in a ‘Chivalry is important’ sense and more of a ‘Masculine men don’t do certain shit’ sense. Which is missing the point of Bruno’s philosophy entirely. He doesn’t really have any women in his life, besides from Trish and she is not a role model for him or a spokesperson for all of womankind, so his only experience with women are the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and girl mags. 

He probably has a harder time with a masculine darling. He isn’t gay ‘cause he thinks you’re pretty, or whatever… You’re just, like… pretty, he guesses. Narancia tries to justify it- you’re pretty feminine for a dude! You have, like, soft hands. And soft hair. And… something else that justifies his crush. Oh! Oh! How you talk! Some people just sound feminine, you know? The words they use, and like, their tone. Like- Like Giorno! He’s a feminine guy, but he’s still a guy! Yeah, that justifies it for sure. Never mind the fact that you are not feminine in the slightest, Narancia will find some way to throw it on you so his crush is ‘ok.’

Leone surprisingly has nothing going on in the sexism department. Lucky him. He might speak a bit softer to a fem darling, but other than that, the experience is roughly the same.

Pannacotta’s distrust of women isn’t inherently sexist. It’s not like he thinks less of them, it’s just that it takes a significant amount of time for him to trust one. He gets along with men at the ‘normal, appropriate’ speed, he’d say. Never mind the fact that he’s distrusting in general and having a crush on a stranger is eating him alive. Strangers are never to be trusted- you just don’t know what they’re thinking about or what their intentions are. They could be perverse, or… just generally ill-willed. It’s unnerving. 

Trish is allergic to going fifty-fifty. It’s not that she’s super into gender roles or anything, it’s just that, she’s a girl, come on. Really? You’re gonna make her split the bill with you? She could be spending that money on, like, anything else. 

She has these expectations of you no matter your gender, don’t make her pay, give her your jacket when she’s cold, carry her shopping bags, get her flowers on valentine’s day, things like that. It’s less ‘I’m the girl in our relationship’ and more ‘I’m spoiled and won’t be bending anytime soon,’ but you could argue she has some internalized sexism going on. In fact I am making that argument.  Trish doesn’t have ‘boy’ hobbies, she’s vehemently opposed to doing masculine work. It isn’t sexist to have preferences, but it is sexist to scoff at your partner who is struggling with carrying something and go “You’re supposed to be stronger than that, you’re a guy.” Poor darling. You don’t get out of it if you’re feminine, either. She’s the girl, you’re her not-man. Perfect! When she eventually matures, she’ll help out a bit more, but it’s probably never equal.

[andreal831]

Elijah antis make it so hard to talk about him.

Sometimes I just want to say "This a**hole."

And not get a hundred responses saying: "Thank you! Elijah is the worst, most evil character to ever exist in the world."

[smile-files]

at the end of the day... suitcase and marshmallow are cool as hell (whatever is going on with knife)

[a-sketchy]

oh come on, where’s my option to join forces and two team them? or cheer her on from the sidelines even. chie can wreck shit actually i don’t want to deny her that

[cringefaecompilation]

Hi same anon from the ask about Taliesin’s characters… yes I didn’t intend to shift focus from the subject of being shitty about Robbie’s presence as a Native man in the cast at large. I just… cannot understand how anyone could see the improvised unfolding of these stories and conclude that Taliesin could possibly have been slighted in either circumstance.

Boiling Dorian’s character down to how he can support someone else (read: particularly a white male cast member and a character who is for all intents and purposes perceived in campaign as a white man) is ridiculous all on its own and it should be called out when people in the minority are turned reductive by fandom discourse.

yeah, yeah, exactly! that's what annoys me about how people treat him!

and it sucks when you have people who go out of their way to act like it's somehow robbie's fault for dorian fans being racist and insist his character is Actually Just Boring or doesn't apply to the themes told by the story so it's okay to ignore him!

i want to know everything about the silken squall! tell me what his life is like and what he wants to be, don't just make him Will of the Air Ashari... 2! or shove him off to the sidelines because you dislike a ship he's in.

[eddieydewr]

"September 2023 was the last time we all truly smiled as a fandom" I AM CACKLING. This fandom has been a shit show for years. What happened to Noah wasn't a new thing it was just on a more extreme public level. People have been harassing everyone the way the did to him for YEARS. The only people in total denial of this are the ones who are the problem. Noah didn't ruin this fandom. The fans did. They made it impossible for anyone to be comfortable here and none of them have any awareness of how many Jewish fans left because of the way they talked about Noah. Who the fuck could smile in a fandom with so much hatred and no human decency. A large part of this fandom simply isn't mature enough to understand any part of this and they think if they replace knowledge with passion it sounds impressive. Everyone knows they are full of shit. People need to get it out of their heads that celebrities are supposed to save them. They need to stop clinging to lies because they think it justifies their anger. They sound psychotic. Everyone is so tired of this and they have no idea how annoying they are. A trailer could drop tomorrow and the same whiney assholes who won't shut up will make a scene AGAIN because they have nothing better to do. Most people won't give a fuck. They aren't special or saying anything people want to listen to. They also just need a reality check - the way they are talking makes it impossible to take them seriously. They won't spell Noah's name because it's "triggering". They won't mention it sometimes and just say "Will's actor". And they are calling a 19 year old child actor a "genocidal maniac" as if he is responsible for saving anyone. He's not a dictator or a politician. They sound so stupid and anyone who sees those comments knows it. It's why no one is giving them what they want. They aren't changing the world acting like this. They are annoying the fuck out of everyone. People are embarrassed by them. It's just amazing how they don't see this. It's them. It's always been them. This fandom is full of bullies and always has been.

I HAVE NOTHING TO ADD BC U ARE SO RIGHT

[oblivious-aro]

Does the Ninjago side plot in season 5 where the ninja are struggling to pick a new leader make any sense?

No, Lloyd was never really their leader, and in fact, the ninja team never really felt like it had a particular leader, but had all the ninja share the role in a way that felt satisfying and natural.

But consider, it's fun having the main characters take turns and seeing how they handle the leadership role, so shut up.

[suffarustuffaru]

i just. remembered again that i have a fembaru fic but also the premise is. Very Messed Up hah and also it was written before the canon genderbent au with its official genderbend names for everyone so its also outdated on top of that T^T i had like. Genderqueer subtext going on too. but i also wrote this fic like almost two years ago and havent touched it in forever so im unsure if i should go back to it…. o.o but i would love to finish it one day if only for my own satisfaction hah… i had a very detailed outline for ch 2 (its a twoshot) and several scenes written already anyway!! (and also i would probably update those names, make minor edits, etc etc hmm…)

[lesinquietes]

As promised, Rancher!Toshinori takes you to the drive-in. When he picks you up, he notices you’re wearing a low-cut shirt that gently cups your breasts. It’s a light red plaid that draws his gaze. He does everything in his power to refrain from gawking. He’s eager to show you he’s not like any of the other goofballs this town has to offer.

You encourage him to park near the back of the lot. The locals know this is where things get steamy. He’s shocked by the signals you’re sending him. He thought you were a good girl… is it possible that you’ve wanted him just as much as he’s wanted you this whole time?

He tries to relax. He doesn’t want to get too far ahead of himself. But when the opening credits roll, and you reach over to pet his manhood over his trousers, he can’t help his mind from wandering. He tosses a strong arm over your figure and reels you into him. Your groping becomes less tame. Soon, you’re pawing at the zipper of his dress pants. He can’t resist obliging you.

It’s like a fever dream. In fact, hasn’t he had a dream exactly like this? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that’s fresh in his dazed brain is the sensation of your pretty lips wrapped around his girth, sucking the excitement out of his sack.

By the end credits, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, milking his cock for everything it’s worth. He cums into your hand, wasting his seed. In the aftermath, a primal part of him wishes he’d held you down and forced you to take his semen into your womb; that way, you’d be his forever. But he knows that wouldn’t be right.

After the movie ends, Toshinori drives you back to your place. You don’t invite him in for tea, but you tell him you’ll see him at the bar — that’s something. It leaves his heart giddy to watch you walk into your home, hair messy from lovemaking and body painted with his DNA.

You close the door without another glance. That’s okay. You’re probably just a bit shy. You don’t usually give it up on the first date, do you? Nah. He doesn’t take you for the type. You only do this sort of thing either guys you like… no— with guys you love.

He decides, in that moment — idling in front of your home, gazing up at a star-filled sky — that you were made to be his.

Previous l

𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[spocksgotemotions]

I saw a modernized version of a lesser known Shakespeare play in Russian and it was so interesting and weird that it’s still stuck in my brain (i saw it for a class and my professor was very annoyed with me when I said it was my favorite of the semester because it was different and weird). Most of my senior year of college I was learning about absurdist/surrealist theater and experimenting with it and the weird subgenres that came out of it. I wrote a very short collage play about Henrik Ibsen and August Strindberg in a tumultuous romance (Strindberg hated Ibsen’s guts so much, but he kept a lifelike bust of Ibsen in his study), where all the lines were taken from the various women in their plays. Different professor once introduced a play as the most feminist thing at the time (in the 1830s). The play was written by a man and had a cast of 20, with 6 female characters. The female characters were split into two groups, “whore” and “wife.” One of the wives did not have a name. All of the wives died for their husbands and the whores were only in one scene. One of the whores has a beautiful monologue about longing. But it is longing for sex and sex alone. She was based off of 18th century porn novels. My professor got very annoyed when I informed him of this. Right now I’m working as a scare actor and after being told the story of the haunted house I put a lot of thought into the sort of things I would say and do to fit the vibe but still make it my own. I heard one of my coworkers say, “people keep laughing cause they think I’m saying yeet, but I’m doing the minecraft zombie noise.”

[sprolden]

actually how do you feel about the queer rep in tsc in general, b/c i feel like it's so good but also sometimes. Bad. like Anna was so messy imo, both as a nonbinary character and her relationship to Ari. but at the same time she writes so much queer rep for such a big and mainstream series.

i think the short answer is "overall very good, but not perfect, as can be expected from a cishet woman in her 40s"

long answer is yeah, it's a bit of a mixed bag sometimes, but generally good. i think she treats her queer and her cishet characters equally, without putting too much thought into certain sterotypes she wants to avoid, which does lead to a few questionable moments. (though she does avoid killing her queer characters like the plague, which, so true. keep that up)

i think a good example of this is how both magnus and matthew, two of the most prominent bisexual characters, are both known for being very flirtatious people, which is a negative sterotype i think most authors as dedicated to writing rep as cc would want to avoid. at the same time, there's also slutty characters who aren't bi (jace, isabelle, anna) and bi characters who aren't slutty (mark, kieran, helen). would it be better if she had avoided this stereotype altogether? i don't know!

same goes for the way cetain characters talk about magnus' femininity. though it's generally respected and generally admired, it's absolutely used as the butt of a joke like... all the time. would it be better if no one made fun of it, even though magnus' femininity is also explicity admired in-text by just as many people? i don't know, you tell me.

anna is......... a lot to unpack, isn't she. i can't really say how i feel about her gender identity since i'm not nonbinary myself, but i do think that if cc set out to write a genderqueer character she could have made that more explicit. i get that tlh being set in the 1900s leads to some complications, but i think a sensitivity reader may have helped her a bit here.

i do think her and ari's romance lacked a certain depth that other couples were given (and same goes for helen and aline, though they are obviously not main characters). i think this is mostly due to the way cc writes her male and female characters, or rather, their romances. it's a little hard to put into words but i feel like, in the end, her female characters are the ones who are regular people while the male characters often step into the sexy love interest role, ready to admire the Main Girl any opportunity he gets. that's not to say that most characters don't carry elements of both these roles sometimes, but it kind of leaves us with, like, Lesbian Sheep? does anyone get what the fuck i'm trying to say?

basically, when your romances depend on men being sexy dreamboats waiting for a girl to slowly fall in love with him, it's hard to write one without a man in there. the reason why ari and anna don't read as romantic is because they're both rational, three-dimensional people, whose main purpose in life is not getting the attention of some girl, when cc's romances almost always depend on the core dynamic being Regular Girl x Universally Admired Guy Who Would Kill Himself For Her If She Asked. (sizzy is a very notable exception to this, with izzy being the universally admired guy, while simon is the regular girl.)

basically, think her desire to write all her women as relatable, rational people for whom romance is not the single most important thing in their lives is preventing her from doing it. i'm very curious to see if twp will give us a better take on a lesbian romance but i don't count on it unfortunately!