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ughthisisntright · 9 months

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Lap of Luxury | Sugar Daddy!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: As a young woman without much income, a joke of a job, and an unfortunately expensive taste, your curiosity one evening leads to a string of events far out of your control.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 23, Bradley is 40), suggestive themes (no smut), fluff

Word Count: 4,635

“Babe,” your best friend slurred. “You need to get on Seeking Arrangements! These guys- they just buy you stuff! And give you money!”

Another conversation about your not-so-much of an income, splitting a bottle of wine with your best friend, and her insistence on helping you has devolved into this. Discussing a sugar daddy arrangement from a site for older folks. You couldn't imagine a worse way to spend your night.

“Aren't they, like, old?” You ask with a sneer. Your friend just laughs it off.

“And rich!” She squeals. “You’d never have to work another shitty job again! C’mon just try it!” She grabbed your phone from you and fumbled with it to download the app.

“Ugh, what’s your password?” She showed you the screen where the app store was asking. You hesitate before typing it in and allowing her to do the rest.

“Okay first thing’s first,” she places her hand on your knee, mostly to steady herself. “Never use your real name. So you're going to be…”

She starts typing on the phone, probably using her galaxy brain to come up with something truly brilliant. And by brilliant, that means ridiculous.

“Genevieve,” she states finally. You don't hate the name, but it's not yours. You made a mental note to change it when you're sober. “Everything else will be the same. And…”

She starts scrolling through your camera roll. You'd have freaked out but really, there wasn't anything there she hasn't seen already. She taps on a photo of you she took a week ago at a vineyard the two of you had visited (on her dime) and handed your phone back to you,

“Voilà! Welcome yo Seeking Arrangements,” she grinned at you. You looked down at your profile and sighed.

“Now what?” You ask flatly.

“Find someone!”

“How? I don't know how to use this!”

“Ugh, you're so boring sometimes…”

Thus began a hunt for the “perfect man” to fund your broke self’s habits. It was all a drunken blur from there, and you passed out on your couch after about two hours of playing around on the app. You had no idea there were so many men willing to give their money away to young women with no regard. But it was working out in your favor.

You woke up the next day with a pounding hangover, cottonmouth and your phone on 5% battery. Your friend was nowhere to be found - as usual after drinking binges like that. You mentally kicked yourself for allowing it to go this far but, realistically, you didn't care to go into work today anyway.

A quick text to your boss and a shaky walk to your bedroom to plug your phone in preceded your chug-fest in the kitchen. Drinking straight from the tap wasn't fast enough, but it would suffice. You groaned as you finished gorging yourself on your borderline acceptable tap water, went to the cabinet, and pulled out your bottle of painkillers. You popped two extra strength tablets and washed them down with yet another healthy gulp of water.

You walked back to your bedroom and laid in the quiet dark on your bed. Just as you closed your eyes, your phone buzzed. Once, then twice. You pick it up to see you have missed messages from men on that confounded Seeking Arrangements app. You groan and set the phone down again, remembering just how horribly drunk you got last night. Drunk and stupid, it seemed. You hear another buzz and pick up the phone in frustration, unlocking it and then scrolling through the messages and threads you'd started last night.

Genevieve. What a stupid name. You quickly changed it to your name and kept scrolling through. You deleted many of the threads, only stopping on a few men who were even remotely close to your age bracket. All tech startup guys with nothing better to do than wine and dine young women into their panties. Typical.

You’re about to delete the app when you see one face in particular that doesn't piss you off like the rest. You open your conversation from the night before to find it was pleasant, not sexually charged, and genuine. You smile briefly before clicking his profile picture. He’s handsome, too handsome. What’s the catch?

You open his profile to see his age, what he does, and where he is. He’s forty, lives nearby in San Diego, and is an aviator for the Navy. The military thing would have been a turn off if the conversation you’d had didn't look so… refreshing. You scroll to see his net worth - nearly one million. Unheard of among these other men. He must be well-off.

You scroll more and see he’s very close by. A block away. You excitedly - but cautiously - type a message to him.

You: So sorry, I fell asleep. I think it's wild you’re still single at your age. How doesn't that mustache pull women nowadays?

You bite your lip and quickly turn the brightness down on your phone, the blue light making your migraine worse. You see him typing and your heart flutters.

You can't believe this is happening. How did you let your friend talk you into this? Were you crazy? Desperate? Or just lonely? You watched the bubbles on screen appear and disappear as the man on the other side of the screen typed his response to you.

The self-loathing part of your brain told you he was figuring out how to turn you down gently. Tell you you're too young for this, to go find someone your own age, chase your dreams, and whatever other sentiments he could think of. You wanted to hear it, but you also didn't. This was all too much.

Until it wasn't.

Bradley Bradshaw: No worries, sweetheart. I see you're nearby - let me come get you and treat you to brunch. Mimosas?

You stood outside your apartment with your cutest outfit on, though to someone like Bradley, it could be considered… revealing. You didn’t have much, hence the entire reason your friend had convinced you to join that stupid app in the first place. Regardless, you stood waiting for Bradley to come pick you up for your impromptu brunch date.

Could you even call it a date?

Your mind swam as you stared down at the photo of him on the app. He was handsome, yes. You just weren’t sure if this made you one of those gold-digging, shallow women who you were sure were all over this app. He looked as though he’d spent a lifetime laughing, living. The wrinkles you could see that weren’t airbrushed out of this photo seemed deeply set. A good sign that he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the other guys you’d apparently spoken to.

Was this just a giant ass mistake?

What if he was just another one of these guys looking to fuck a younger woman and then give her some hush money? Or even expensive gifts in lieu of hush money? You didn’t want to be the dumb trophy on some older man’s arm. And that was when it hit you - you actually liked Bradley. It was just a small crush, of course, you’d hardly known him. Hardly even spoken to him. But from the little interaction you’d had he seemed like the genuine article.

Before you could psych yourself out any more, you heard the low rumble of a classic car getting closer. You popped your head up to see a bright blue classic Ford Bronco headed your way. Your eyes lit up - having an affinity for classic cars - and you simply prayed that this was Bradley coming to get you.

The car came to a stop right in front of you, and the aforementioned Bradley was looking out the window at you with a grin. He pulled his aviators down the bridge of his nose and looked you in the eyes. A genuine kind of look on his face that had you melting inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said kindly. “Are you ready to go?”

You nodded wordlessly and shoved your phone into your small purse. Bradley jumped out of the Bronco and approached you. He was incredibly tall, compared to you, and he didn’t have this dominating presence that you kept thinking he would have. No, he was like a giant teddy bear - someone you could imagine curling up with at the end of the day and getting nothing but hugs and kisses from.

“You’re even more adorable than that picture on the app, you know,” he tilted his head sweetly to one side. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, though you weren’t sure if he would notice.

“I-I’m happy I’ve surpassed expectations,” you croaked. “God, I’m sorry-” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m nervous, too, sweetheart,” he admitted kindly. “Let’s get to where we’re going and we can be nervous together.” He took your hand and led you to the passenger side of the Bronco. He opened the door for you and helped you get up into the seat. He waited until you were situated before closing the door and walking coolly to the other side and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I hope you don’t mind. I chose a more secluded spot than I normally would,” Bradley admitted as he pulled away from the curb. “Not because I’m embarrassed, but just because I’d hate to have people I know giving me shit.”

“I completely understand,” you say softly. “I would die if someone I knew saw me doing this… Whatever this is.”

“I’d say we can put off putting a label on it until we’re sure, yeah?” Bradley looked over at you with a smile. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

“I love the sound of that,” you said sweetly, looking at him with a smile.

Soon, you arrived at a small brunch joint on the outskirts of the city. Bradley had assured you he’d never seen his buddies here, and you assured him that your friends are too broke to afford this kind of place. Sharing a laugh, Bradley cuts the engine and gets out of the Bronco. He walks to your side and helps you out before linking your arm with his.

“I’ll treat you right, okay?” He said sweetly as he walked you in. You only smiled in response and allowed him to lead you inside. He gave his last name coolly to the hostess and she ushered the two of you to a more private booth at the back of the restaurant. Bradley pulled your chair out for you and let you sit first. What a gentleman. He took his seat across from you and removed his aviators.

Those eyes were mesmerizing. Beautiful brown that you swore had little flecks of gold in them. You could get lost in those eyes if you weren’t careful, so you quickly picked up the small menu and looked it over. Yikes. You for sure wouldn’t be able to afford this.

“So, I can tell this is not something you usually do,” Bradley said softly. “Me neither, if I’m honest.”

“Honestly? My friend made me do it. We were… Drinking last night. And she convinced me this would be a good idea.” You admitted candidly. “I didn’t know what to expect.

“Hah! Sounds exactly like what my friend did to me,” he admitted right back. “I forgot the app even existed until you messaged me last night. Then, I just got this… feeling. Like, if I let this slip by, I’d regret it the rest of my life.”

“Hence, why we’re sitting here having brunch together,” you finish for him. “I have to admit, Bradley, you don’t seem like the type to go for… younger women. You’re mature, put together, and seem like a zero-bullshit guy.”

“Yeah, well, the Navy sort of beats that into you,” he laughs softly. “Women are usually deterred by the military thing. They automatically think you’re looking to get married, or they think you’re active duty and are going to lose you. So they don’t even bother trying.” He looks up at you. “I’m just trying to find someone to spoil. Someone to care for, and someone to care for me right back.”

You appreciated his honesty. You liked skipping around the nervous chatter, the lies, the embellishments. This was a far cry from some of the dates you’d been on in the past - boys pretending to be men that they’re not. Bradley clearly went through that when he was your age. And he clearly realized it doesn’t work long-term.

“You’re saying all the right things, Bradley,” you chime. “I just want you to know… I’m not after your money or whatever else it is you have to offer me. I’m not sure what I’m after here, but I’d like to explore this. Whatever it ends up being, or not being, I’m interested to see where it goes.”

You’re surprised to hear those words coming from your mouth. An hour ago you were just about ready to call this whole thing off. You were sure this would make you lesser than; lump you in with all the other desperate girls your age just looking to get rich and not work for it. But, honestly, you didn’t care about money - your friend did. If this all worked out, if Bradley ended up being more than just a Seeking Arrangements date, you’d have to thank her for being such a gold digger.

Oh, the misery.

"I do too, sweetheart,” Bradley said sweetly. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

Brunch went exceptionally well. Bradley told you stories from his time in the Naval Academy, TOPGUN, and even a few missions you were pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to share. He told you about his parents and how he followed in his dad’s footsteps. He told you about everything. He was a man who’d lived. You couldn’t grasp, still, how a woman his age wouldn’t want him.

You shared stories from your years in college, your job, and from your childhood. Absolutely nothing compared to the nearly twenty years he had on you. You felt silly telling him about yourself, but he was genuinely interested. He asked so many insightful questions, held your hand, and maintained eye contact. You thought maybe, just maybe, he was falling for you.

You’d be remiss if you didn’t admit you may be falling for him, too.

When the bill came, Bradley snatched it away from you with a mischievous grin. You playfully pouted at him and he just waved you off. He took his wallet out and slid a credit card into the book and held it until the server came back. Clever little devil.

“I told you I’d spoil you, sweetheart,” he mused. “This is me spoiling you. But, I should warn you. This is only the beginning.”

You grinned at him and nodded, relaxing back in your seat. He was just so cool. His entire demeanor, his attitude - devil may care kind of air about him. You enjoyed his youthful aura, especially since you knew he was not quite as youthful as he used to be. It was truly a breath of fresh air.

The bill was paid, you’d successfully drank three mimosas, and Bradley was looking at you with stars in his eyes. He walked you out of the restaurant and to his Bronco. He looked down at you once the two of you were on the passenger’s side. Brushing some hair from your face, he smiled softly and pulled you just a touch closer.

“Well, I’m dying for your review, sweetheart,” he said with a grin. “Did I live up to expectations?”

Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Did he? Did he? You’d just spent three hours chatting with a man nearly twice your age about his life, your life, and genuinely enjoying each other's company. And he wants to know if he lived up to expectations? You smiled widely, no longer able to conceal the excitement you felt in your gut about this.

“Very much so. I’d even be so bold as to say you’ve surpassed them,” you took his hand in yours gently. He responded by squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“Then,” he said in a lower tone than he’d used earlier. “You wouldn’t find it uncouth of me to do this?”

Before you could even think of a witty response, his lips were on yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. Your initial shock washed away quickly as your lips pressed back against his. He was gentle, nothing extravagant, nothing lying beneath the surface - just a kiss. His hands slid around your back and upwards, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands found purchase on his large biceps, squeezing as he drew you nearer.

Like in the movies, you felt an instant spark. Little electrical pulses all over your lips, your cheeks, and wherever he touched you. His hands seemed to be made for you. They seemed to know exactly how to hold you, how to caress you, and how to make you forget all except him and this moment.

And all too quickly, he was pulling away from you. He looked down at you with gentle eyes, a small quirk of his lips. You stared back up at him with your mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He brought his hand up and swept his thumb over your bottom lip. You almost had to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the mild ache that warmed your core.

Bradley let out a soft chuckle and opened the door for you. Like earlier, he helped you into the Bronco and then got in himself. He started the vehicle and started driving away from the restaurant. Your mind swam with the possibilities. He could be your father, but you wanted him. You wanted him to be the man in your life. Just from this one little encounter. You were sure you wanted him.

It really was like the movies.

You noticed eventually that you were nowhere near your apartment, or his. In fact, San Diego wasn’t around you at all. You’d traveled north, and then west. To a small little shopping center away from town. You looked at Bradley curiously and he met your gaze as if on cue.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he said coolly. “I’m taking you to the beach. But you need a bathing suit. And, honestly, so do I.” He grinned at you and pulled into a parking spot. Just great! He was already blowing his money on you. Part of you felt guilty, but the other part of you - the part that was still listening to your friend - wanted to see this all through.

He pulled you into a store that sold probably the most revealing swimsuits for the most outrageous prices. You cringed every time you looked at a price tag even though Bradley had assured you nothing was too expensive. Finally, after looking at a one-piece suit that was anything but “one piece,” you pulled Bradley to you.

“I cannot let you spend this kind of money on such little fabric, Bradley,” you pleaded. He simply smiled down at you and nodded.

“I understand completely,” he looked around at the options and narrowed his eyes. “Let me find something worthwhile then.” He kissed your cheek and walked off to search for a suit for you. Dumbfounded, you stood back and watched for a second. Then, without even thinking, you started looking for one for him to wear. Like some kind of girlfriend would.

You picked up a red pair of trunks, the shorter kind that have come into style recently. You weren’t sure if these would make him look younger or just plain silly. You didn’t really care, though, you wanted him to wear them. You figured this would be a good color on him.

When he eventually found you again, he had his hands behind his back. A shit-eating grin on his face, you’d notice. You held up the trunks you’d chosen for him, a small smile on your face.

“How are these?” You asked sweetly. He nodded in approval and then brought a one piece suit out from behind his back.

Your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw it - bright red, just like the trunks you’d chosen for him.

You let out a genuine laugh and smiled up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss before taking the trunks from you and walking to the register to pay. You followed behind him but quickly tucked yourself against his side at the counter. He’d picked up a pair of aviators for you, a couple of towels, and some sunblock. Once he paid, he took your hand and led you out of the shop.

“Let’s change into these before we head out. I wanna get right into it when we get to the beach,” he handed you the swimsuit and gently pushed you in the direction of the bathroom. He went to the men’s room to change, and you changed as instructed.

When you arrived at the beach, you were in awe at how gorgeous the scenery was. Not a person in sight, either. Perfect, you thought. Bradley hauled you to the sand like a little kid and laughed at your protests.

“The water is fine! Come on, let me see that suit I got you.” He pinched your sides and tickled you into submission. You shoved him off of you with a wheezing laugh and tore your clothes off to reveal the swimsuit. His eyes traveled down your body in a very uncharacteristically obvious way.

“Wow, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Red is definitely your color.” He took his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. He was surprisingly muscular for someone his age. It added to his charm, you decided, that he was able to stay in such great shape. “How about me? Red a good color on me? Someone my age?”

“Yeah, actually. Those make you look at least ten years younger,” you teased. He laughed and watched you take off towards the water. He followed behind you and let his feet get wet from the waves.

You, on the other hand, were the young sprite who was going deeper into the water. You let the water lap at your thighs before traveling out a little further. The cool water felt amazing on your skin, even better with the sun beating down on you. You closed your eyes and let the waves rock you from side to side. You surely could get used to this.

You suddenly felt hands on your hips, a firm grip. You jumped slightly before turning around to come face-to-face with Bradley. The sun made his eyes sparkle just as you’d predicted in the restaurant. You looked at the age on his face and sigh softly. It’s not as obvious in the sun. Not something you expected.

“You forgot something,” he said softly. He propped the pair of aviators he bought on your face and gently pushed them up the bridge of your nose. He poked the tip of your nose with a boyish grin. “Perfect.”

“You’re gonna let me get a sunburn, too?” You chide with a poke to his ribs.

“Oh, never,” he said with a scandalized look on his face. “Here, turn back around.” He produced the bottle of sunscreen and smirked.

You turned around without hesitation. You felt his hands all over your back as he spread the sunscreen around your skin. He rubbed up and over your shoulders, kissing them gently when he was finished. He traced your spine on the open back of the swimsuit he bought you. You shivered ever so slightly when his hands brushed your skin so gently. He worked the sunscreen into your neck before gently turning you back around and working it over your collarbone. You saw the hesitation in his eyes when he went to drag his fingers lower, but your lack of protest replaced his hesitation with determination. He massaged the sunscreen into the swell of your breasts slowly. Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The familiar ache between your legs returning.

He moved on to your arms and the tops of your ears. He then put a silly little stripe of it on the bridge of your nose, making you giggle. You took the bottle from him and repeated the gesture on him. He grinned proudly and pulled you close again. His lips crashed onto yours in a hungry kiss, more intimate than the last.

You knew then that you could get used to this.

You grinned widely and charged at Bradley, jumping into his arms. He laughed and caught you with ease, spinning you around as you wrapped your legs around him. He playfully tipped you backwards so your hair brushed the water. Your squeal of excitement rang out clear as day, making him smile brighter than you’d seen.

He pulled you back up and you buried your face in his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and sunscreen, and he smelled still like the subtle cologne he wore. He held you securely against him, never daring to drop you.

You pulled your head back and kissed him again. It came easier now, kissing him. It was more exciting, less anxiety-inducing. You liked the way the walls had been dropped and the affections came easier. He gladly kissed you back, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. A soft, more needy than intended whimper left your lips at that.

Instead of scaring him away, it only spurred Bradley on. His hands cupped your rear possessively and he carried you back to shore. And you knew where it would go from there.

He set you down on one of the towels and crawled over you. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he explored your skin with his mouth. Your hands slid up and into his hair, whining softly as he ravaged you with that perfect, experienced mouth.

“I need you to know, sweetheart,” he grunted. “This isn’t a one-off.” You tilted your head, sweat on your brow.

“I’m going to take you out, bring you home, make you mine,” he explained further. “I’m not ready to let you go yet. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” you breathed. “I’m not ready to let you go yet either.”

“Good,” he said before kissing down your stomach, dangerously close to your aching cunt. “Because I don’t want to go too fast.” He kissed back up your stomach and to your lips.

A pitiful little moan left your lips in protest. He chuckled softly and looked down at you.

“We have time,” he said simply. You wrapped your arms around him and laughed softly. His lips connected with your collarbone before he lifted you back up.

“Let’s order something and eat dinner here. Sound good?” He suggested. You nodded with a grin, kissing his cheek. As he was busy ordering something for dinner, you looked down at your phone for the first time since that morning. You opened it up and looked at your conversation with Bradley on the app. You bit your lip and closed the app. Then you took a leap.

You deleted the app.

Bradley was the only one you cared about among the list of men you’d chatted with. And in a stupidly short amount of time, you started picturing yourself with this man. This real man. He turned to you and smiled as he spoke on the phone with the place he was ordering from. The look on his face when he looked at you was enough. This, eating dinner on a secluded beach, was enough.

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unreliablesnake · 5 months

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Give me a reason not to love you (John Price x reader)

Summary: Price falls in love with someone who's off limits. Turns out his feelings are reciprocated.

Note: Just a little something I wrote in a rush. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

“There’s this lovely girl I met the other day,” his cousin had told him three months ago, then showed him a few pictures from your Instagram account. “I’m meeting her tomorrow, I need you to be my wingman, John. Just throw in a few nice words about me, okay? Make me look like a good guy.”

He had done exactly that, telling you stories that showed you his good side, and sure enough, the two of you began dating eventually. At first he was happy for his cousin, gladly listening to his stories of your meetings, but at one point he became irritated by them. Yes, he was jealous. It took him a week to realize that, but after that there was no question about it. He found himself stalking you on social media, always checking your recent posts and photos to know what you were up to. And whenever he saw pictures of you and his cousin together, he angrily closed the app and put away his phone.

Going out with his dear relative when you were there was pure torture. John tried to get over you, he tried to ignore his feelings, but every time you smiled at him, his heart melted. You got under his skin so easily that he wondered if he could ever get rid of his feelings for you. And maybe he was hallucinating, but he could have sworn you were sometimes flirting with him. Gentle touches on his forearm, carefree laughs even at his worst jokes, and those damn smiles he hated and loved so much at the same time.

“Maybe you’re just this affectionate with people you like,” he told himself every single time, pushing his stupid thoughts away with a forced laugh.

At one point of one of these nights out he had enough, excused himself, and went to the bar to order another drink for himself. He needed a breather, he needed some time out of your gravitational pull. You were his cousin’s girlfriend, you were off limits. Someone then sat down next to him, their knee gently brushing his hips as he stood there. When he looked to the side to see who it was that couldn’t respect his personal space, his eyes landed on you. You were watching him with a smile, your fingers wrapped around the tall glass you had on the bar top.

“You’re stalling,” you said, your speech giving away that you were pretty tipsy by now.

“What do you mean?”

You drank a little with your eyes focused on him the whole time, but didn’t answer at first. “You always talk so freely when I’m away from the table, but every time I show up, you close up like a clam,” you said with a pout. “Do you hate me?”

This question took him by surprise. Did he really make it look like he felt that way? It sure wasn’t his intention. With a sigh, he took the glass of Scotch from the bartender and focused on that instead of you. “I don’t hate you,” he said eventually. “In fact, I have this stupid feeling that you’re flirting with me, and it’s hard to be around you when my brain makes things like that up.”

“So you picked up on it?” you asked him quietly.

His gaze finally fell on you, his brain in overdrive because he couldn’t believe you just said that. Even now you circled your fingertip around the edge of your glass while you watched him, the look in your eyes telling him he hadn’t been mistaken about you before. But why were you flirting with him when you were supposedly in a happy relationship? Why couldn’t you just be with his cousin without making a move on him?

John couldn’t take it. He excused himself and went outside, desperately reaching for a cigar in his pocket once he stepped outside and the cold night air filled his lungs. “Fuck,” he murmured when he struggled to light the cigar. Once he succeeded, he leaned against the wall and inhaled the smoke.

After a peaceful few minutes you showed up, alone once again, although this time you cornered him with a wide grin on your face. You were enjoying this, you loved toying with him like this, but why? Why couldn’t you focus on your actual relationship? When you put your hand on his arm, John flinched.

“You literally ran away from me,” you began, and despite your grin, you weren’t mocking him, you were only stating a fact. “I’m not going back to our table until you tell me what’s wrong. Yes, I know, you don’t hate me, you noticed that I’m flirting with you sometimes, but there has to be something else.”

He took a deep breath and leaned his head against the wall as he looked up at the night sky. Despite being under the influence of alcohol, you were quite good at recalling what the two of you discussed inside. He wished you were more drunk, he wished you just forgot about the whole thing and returned to your boyfriend. Then he would say goodbye to everyone, fleeing the pub and keep on drinking back home.

But you remembered. And you didn’t just remember, you also cornered him outside, out of your boyfriend’s sight. How on earth could he lie to you when you were standing there, looking up at him with this sweet smile? “Say it,” John said when he leaned closer to you after what seemed like an eternity.

You looked utterly confused. “Say what?”

He grabbed your shoulder and moved aside to change places with you so your back would be against the wall. “That you don't want me. I need to hear you say this so I can stop thinking about you,” he whispered when he leaned closer.

“You like me?”

But he wasn’t about to answer that question. “Just say you don't want me.” His hand was pressed to the wall next to your head, and the closer he leaned to you, the bigger the temptation to kiss you became. “I'm begging you. Say it.”

You reached up to run your fingers along his jaw. “I can’t. I don’t want to lie,” you told him quietly.

John let out a sigh and rested his forehead against yours. He was desperately trying to find a reason to get you out of his head, but you refused to tell him the only thing that could make that happen. Now he was torn between leaving you behind, going no contact with both his cousin and you, and staying here to finally kiss you. To finally have you in his arms. To pin you against the wall and shove his tongue down your throat in a messy kiss out in the open, risking one of his friends coming out and seeing the whole scene.

“Fuck it,” he said after a short pause and kissed you, a satisfied groan leaving his throat when he felt your hands touching his body anywhere you could reach.

When he finally pulled away, his blue eyes carefully watching you to see if you were still one hundred percent on board with this, he noted that you were a little too lost in the sensation. Your eyes were still closed and a small smile was playing on your lips, as if you were thinking about what just happened. And then the guilt hit him. He kissed his cousin’s girlfriend, less than fifty meters away from him. When did he become like that? When did he turn into someone who didn’t respect other people’s relationships?

“What now?” you asked without opening your eyes.

“I don’t know. Let’s see what you say when you’re completely sober, yeah?”

John wasn’t happy to say it, but he wasn’t about to make you leave your boyfriend when you were a little drunk. He didn’t want you to regret it later. So he decided to wait for a short while, hoping you would say you wanted him the next day too. As much as he wished you could stay outside together, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. They were probably wondering if he went home, so he threw the remains of his cigar away and took your hand to pull you inside. But the moment the door opened, he let go and acted as if nothing happened out there. It was a tough act, but it had to be done. He couldn’t take any risks.

#captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #call of duty #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 21 days

Text

stupid lil headcanons about mapi

author notes: i'm pushing out more of these dumb posts than fics but i swear fics are coming 🙏🏾 just let my mind work it's magic y'all. anyways stupid headcanons about mapi that hold no value, enjoy!

➜ mapi probably asks ingrid to talk to the waitress when she receives the wrong order. it's not really that she's scared to say something, it's just mapi doesn't want to say anything herself

➜ she probably sends ingrid stupid memes in spanish about the most irrelevant things that ingrid is always like "wtf? where did you get these from?" (she got them from twitter)

➜ doesn't care for tiktok that much but sometimes someone sends her an edit off of that app and she giggles

➜ this woman be low-key confused when the barca coach talks about the team's game plan. afterwards she always asks alexia to explain to her in simple terms

➜ we all know she had that emo phase. during that phase she still listened to a lot of spanish music (she couldn't get with the actual emo music) and used tumblr like it was god sent

➜ mapi be giggling and kicking her legs while stalking ingrid's instagram during international break. she has like a thousand photos of ingrid in her gallery, but the instagram posts just hit different

➜ double texts everything. never writes in paragraphs and she probably have many typos in her texts because she be typing at the speed of light

➜ mapi's favorite type of kisses are cheek kisses because she finds them really cute

➜ if the word clingy had a picture in the dictionary, mapi would be the photo. this woman is attached to ingrid so bad and just likes hanging off of her. half of the time she just annoys ingrid but refuses to move away when her when ingrid tells her off

➜ clumsy at the worse moments. could be holding a plate full of food and mapi is going to slip on thin air

➜ likes piggy back rides especially from ingrid

➜ mapi is the biggest cryer when it comes to movies. it could be the happiest movie ever but let one sad thing happen and she's bawling

➜ begs ingrid to do her hair in silly lil hairstyles and always talks cute selfies after

➜ a cuddle bug. not just with ingrid but also her cat

➜ mapi shall not be trusted with knives or any sharp objects, she always end up cutting herself. ingrid has to comfort her afterwards

➜ is so annoying to play against in a fifa game. she will do anything in her power to make you lose (pushing, saying the most out of pocket stuff, screaming at the top of her lungs, anything to her opponent to lose the game)

➜ dyes her hair when stressed (but don't tell anybody that)

➜ either a fun drunk or a sad drunk. depends on the day and if ingrid is around

➜ she randomly flexes in front of ingrid to try to impress her (ingrid doesn't give a fuck but gives many compliments)

➜ speaking of impressing ingrid, this woman will stop a car with her bare hands just to have ingrid give her a compliment. what can be said? #girlfriendvalidationisthebest

➜ 100% is a pouter, a whiner, a "but babeee:("

➜ the type to get a tattoo for her girlfriend and not even tell anyone until someone just notices

➜ mapi is surprisedly flexible, don't ask how she figured that out

➜ follows ingrid around like a lost puppy. she just loves her girl so bad

➜ her favorite season is summer and her favorite thing to do during summer is to go to the beach. for one, she loves to be in the water and for two, she gets to see ingrid in a bikini. a win is a win

➜ says the most random shit that pops up in her mind like "do you think dinosaurs are related to chickens? and if they are related to chickens then when someone eats chicken, are they eating dinosaur meat?" and ingrid would just be like "please just eat your food"

➜ not the best dancer in the world but no body can tell her that

➜ mapi sometimes just gets baby fever and pesters ingrid before forgetting about it then she sees a baby & the process happens all over again

➜ overall mapi is just so silly 😝

#barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #mapi leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen

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archie-sunshine · 2 months

Note

Is it possible to have a little sketch of Ratchet smoking? Cuz, if it's ok with you, I'd like to put it on my phone as a widget

(when you have photos on your phone screen among apps and stuff)

Thank you 💞 and if you don't want me to I won't do that

go right ahead! here's a sketch thats actually serious

and heres a sketch thats stupid :]

#archie answers #my art #my requests #mtmte #transformers #ratchet

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libraryofloveletters · 6 months

Text

Perfect Match

Andy Robertson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ted lasso inspired - yes I used the dating app from it and what ???, reader works for liverpool, lots of friendly teasing, it's so obvious but not to them, andy's got a crush and the boys try to help him, a few sweet comments from andy, reader thinks he's hopeless, a funny but sweet moment at the end, alcohol and the consumption of, one illusion to nsfw stuff at the end.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: it's missing robbo hours :( so I dug this out of my vault of unwritten fics

---

You had been editing the pictures from the last training session, trying to see what you can send out to the players and post on the LFC account before your office door swings open. "Where are my photos?" The man shouts, his thick accent jumbling his words a bit.

The chair spins, you're face to face with your favourite left back, Andy. You smiled at him. "Hello to you too, Andrew."

You and Andy had always been close, even though you had only joined Liverpool 2 years ago. He was the first to welcome you, make you feel at home; to this day, he still does that.

"Hello to you too, lady." He smiles back at you, leaning on the edge of your desk. "How's the editing going? My fans are waiting to see my handsome face."

You rolled your eyes, "it's going.. slow. I'm doing the people of the world a great service by not letting them see your face."

Andy scoffs, "as if, you just wanna hoard pictures of me.. for you know.. dirty purposes." He bites his lower lip, a shit eating grin on his face as he raises his eyebrows.

You laughed so hard that you snorted. "Shut your face, you're so full of it."

The left back laughs, watching as you turn your attention back to the computer in front of you, clicking away. Your phone sat on your desk, face up as always - it buzzed, a chime sound came from it that Andy's never heard before nor does he seem to recognize.

"What's that?" He reaches for your phone, you attempt to grab it before he does but Andy's reflexes are faster than yours. He unlocks your phone - that's on you for leaving your password as 0000.

"Andy, give it back." You stretched your hand out for him to give it back. He scrolls through the notifications, landing on the one he assumed the noise came from; Bantr.

"There's no pictures," he huffs, trying to refresh the page. You roll your eyes, "it's anonymous, Andrew. It's not supposed to have photos."

"You're a photographer, why would you pick a stupid app like that?"

You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again. "It's that way so you can build a connection; you get to know the person based on personality and not looks."

Andy tilts his head to the side still confused as to why you'd pick such an app. "But.. you're beautiful, any man would be stupid not to see that, y/n."

Your cheeks flushed red and suddenly, the room felt as if it was closing in on you and it was 100 degrees hotter in there. "Shut up, you're such a sweet talker," you rolled your eyes.

He laughs at your statement, shrugging as he sets your phone down. Andy gets off your desk, his arms resting over your shoulders and his chin poking into the top of your head. He watches as you click through the various pictures, storing through the good and the bad, fixing minor blemishes as you went.

"You should try it, you know." You tell him quietly and Andy hums, waiting for you to keep talking. "Bantr, you should try it. You're a funny guy, you might have luck."

"Maybe," he shrugs it off, his hand lifting to squish your face. You swat his hand away.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the gym or something?"

"Yeah," he huffs, "but Mo and Trent are trying to do some sort of crunches competition and you know-" "You hate crunches, I know, Andy."

He laughs, "why would I go on Bantr when I have you, y/n?"

Your heart skips a beat, but you figured he's just joking - he's always just joking.

"Whatever, Andy. Unlike you, some of us actually have work to do."

He gets the hint; you were politely shooing him out of your office. "Yeah, okay," he nods, kissing the top of your head before squeezing your face once more. "Send me my pictures please."

"I'll edit them last."

"Saving the best for last?" He asks, turning towards the door.

"Trying to spare myself from seeing your face, I've had my fill for now." You joke, earning a laugh from the left back as he walks out of the office.

The day rolls by and you did in fact send Andy his pictures. His phone buzzes in the cup holder as he heads home, glancing at it as he pulls up to a stoplight.

To Andy: *12 Image Attachments* Stop bothering me now, Andrew.

He smiles to himself, making a mental note to text you back when he arrive home. In typical Andy fashion, he becomes distracted by the million little tasks he does when he gets home.

It wasn't until he got into bed that he remembered your message, shooting you a thank you with a little kissy face emoji and saving the photos.

Your words from earlier ring in his head as well; bantr, you should try it. You're a funny guy, you might have luck.

Andy searches it up, his finger hovering over the button for a moment before pressing it, watching as the little circle spins and it begins downloading. He follows the steps; putting in his birthday, picking his location, adding a user name.

That took him a moment - he couldn't exactly put his name, could he?

There couldn't be that many Andy Robertsons in Liverpool.

He'd feel wrong for lying and putting a fake name so instead, after a few minutes of thinking, he comes up with a user that is still him without being him.

Andy sits up, contemplating if he should delete the profile. He's a footballer, is this even okay that he's doing this? Would he get in trouble for this?

He ignores the thoughts and his thumb presses the matches tab. He swipes through a few, reading their cheesy bios before he comes across a profile that catches his eye.

The user sounded familiar but he couldn't place it, unsure where he saw it. He decides to message them while he still has the courage.

lfc26: Hey! How are you?

The reply came but a few seconds later.

photographer_10: Hi! I’m good, how are you?

lfc26: Good as well, exhausted from work.

photographer_10: I hope you get some rest.

lfc26: I just hopped into bed.

photographer_10: Me too, it’s been a long day.

lfc26: Tell me about it, and the weather’s been shit.

lfc26: That’s if you’re local. You in Liverpool?

photographer_10: Yeah, have been for a few years :)

photographer_10: Are you a fan of Liverpool?

The message stares at Andy, he feels like he’s been caught.

lfc26: I am, why do you ask ?

photographer_10: Your user lol - must be a Robertson fan, he wears 26.

lfc26: Yeah lol, a proper lad.

photographer_10: I think so too, quite funny as well.

lfc26: So I’ve heard.

He finds himself smiling, he would have never guessed he’d meet someone who was a fan of him. It warmed his heart in a weird way; not self centred but content.

lfc26: I think I’m going to head to bed, I have to be up early for work.

photographer_10: No worries at all, you take care of yourself.

lfc26: You too :)

It goes like that on and off for a week, the two of them exchanging little details about their days, flirting playfully back and forth. Andy glances at his phone every few minutes, expecting a text from the mystery woman.

It's starting to become an issue.

Everyone notices that the man who is usually on their asses about being on their phones is glued to his.

He's cycling, rather lazily to be fair - awaiting a response to his scandalous question about her workplace attire.

Mo glances over at his teammate, his brows furrow as he wonders what's on his friend's mind. "Robbo," he calls for the Scotsman. "You okay?"

Andy glances up from the phone that was now in his hand. He nods, "fine, why?"

"Because you've been glued to your phone, that's why." Virgil butts in, snatching the phone from Andy's hand which caused a protest from him. "Give it back!" He groans, hand stretched out to the captain.

Virgil shakes his head, his back to Andy as he looks down to see what's been keeping Andy so busy. "What's Bantr?" He asks, turning to Andy and Mo again.

Mo shrugs, clueless before looking to Andy for an answer. "A dating app," Andy mumbles.

Virgil and Mo exchange a glance, so many things said between the two players without actually saying it. "So that's why you've been smiling at your phone, checking it all day?" Mo asks.

Trent was passing by, per usual, butting himself into the conversation between the three players. He grabs Virgil's arms swinging himself in between the defender and the cycle Andy was on. "What's that? Andy's got a crush?"

Andy rolls his eyes, his cheeks give away his stance; curse his pale Scottish skin for giving him away. "I don't."

"You're blushing!" Trent laughs, pointing a finger at Andy's flushed face.

Virgil chuckles to himself, reading the messages between his friend and his supposed crush. "Didn't think you had it in you, man; some spicy stuff." He raises his eyebrows at him.

Andy's face only flushes further red. Trent tries to get the phone from Virgil but the man lifts his arm, even with Trent's jumping, he can't get the phone from Virgil's hand.

"Shut up," he groans, wanting the world to swallow him whole right about now.

"If you like her, why don't you just ask her out?" Trent asks, scowling at Virg as he hands the phone back to Andy and not to him. Virgil flicks Trent's ear in response.

Andy makes a face, "I can't! That's.. are you insane, man?"

Trent goes to speak but stops himself when he sees you walking over. The camera hung over your neck by its strap. "What's going on over here? Any hot gossip?"

"Who says we're gossiping?" Andy asks, smiling at you sweetly.

You shrug, glancing between the four of them. "Players all huddled together, it goes silent as I walk over; I'd say that's gossip."

"We don't gossip, we're grown men." Virgil points out, causing you to laugh. You lift the camera, taking a picture of him and Trent.

"Yeah, of course not, so does that make Macca and Darwin.. little boys?" You point behind you with your thumb, the two Spanish speaking players giggling about something as they stretch.

Virgil presses his lips together, making a dopey looking face. You laughed at him, walking off to take a few more photos of the boys on the other side of the room.

It's Saturday, match day.

Liverpool played Wolves, 4-1 and the boys were going into the next week on a good note.

Andy, per usual, finds you and offers up his company and dinner. You take him up on it, you were finished with your editing and could use the friend time.

You sat across from the man, the two of you tucked away in the back of a little Italian restaurant Jordan used to rave about. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," you tell him, taking a sip of your cocktail.

Andy hums, glancing at his phone that was face up on the table. Your brows furrow, studying his face as his finger swipes over the screen.

"Waiting for something?" You asked, raised brows when he finally looked up.

"Oh, just a message from someone."

"Someone as in.. a woman friend? Like, a hot date?" You pried, you and Andy didn't have boundaries when it came to conversation; you poked around in each others' business all the time. You both liked things messy and loud and complicated - it's who you were.

Andy shook his head, his face flushed red like when Trent accused him of having a crush. "No," he huffs, washing the butterflies down with a sip of beer.

Your face lit up, grinning at your friend. "No way! You like her!" The words come out in a sing-song tone and Andy rolls his eyes playfully annoyed with you.

"Shut up," he chuckles, taking a bite of his chicken.

You mirrored his actions, chewing your food quietly. You look at him for a moment, smiling at him. "So tell me about her."

"She's kind, and funny. She likes Liverpool so it's a perfect match."

"The bar is so low, Andy." You teased and he shrugged, smiling. "But I'm glad you found someone, I hope things work out between you two."

"Me too," he nods. "What about you? Any luck?"

"Yeah," you took another sip of your drink, "he's a nice guy, but we're taking it slow. We'll see where it goes."

"Good, let me know if he gives you a hard time and you need me to beat him up." Andy says flatly, 100% serious.

You laughed, "as if you could beat up someone."

"I'll pay Virgil to rough him up."

You two chat for a bit more, finishing up dinner and Andy talked you into splitting a massive piece of cake with him - can't have dinner without dessert, just ain't right.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you made it home. You sent Andy a quick text, thanking him for dinner and telling him you got home. You received a thumbs up in response, which meant he was about to fall asleep and was too tired to answer properly - at least he knew you were fine.

You sat on your bed, opening the app you had been ignoring for the last few hours. Clicking on the profile, you send a message.

photographer_10: Hey you.

Andy, who was about to fall asleep, feels the phone buzz in his hand. He opens his eyes, blinking to get himself to focus when he sees who has messaged him.

Suddenly, he was wide awake.

lfc26: Hi, how are you?

photographer_10: I'm good, sorry I disappeared. Had some work stuff to take care of.

lfc26: I thought you forgot about me lol.

photographer_10: Never, you’re hard to forget.

Andy smiled at the message, the butterflies fluttering around his stomach like a 16 year old boy with a crush.

lfc26: That’s sweet, you’ve got me blushing.

photographer_10: I'm sure you look very handsome.

lfc26: Hush you, I'm as red as a tomato right now.

The next message catches him off guard.

photographer_10: Now are you ever gonna ask me on a date or shall I ask you?

lfc26: Oh you beat me to it.

photographer_10: By all means, please.

lfc26: Would you like to go on a date with me?

Andy stares at the message, he isn’t even sure how long his thumb hovered over the send button. He finally worked up enough courage to hit it, but automatically locked his phone, tossing it on the bed as he rushed off to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

It was a few minutes later that he came back and saw the response.

photographer_10: I’d love to. Let me know when you’re free.

lfc26: Next week? I’m free on Tuesday.

photographer_10: Perfect, shall we meet somewhere?

lfc26: Let me be a gentleman and pick you up?

photographer_10: Sure, I’d love that :)

The arms around you cause you to jump in your seat, heart stopping momentarily. It wasn't until you saw the pale skin that you connected the dots.

"Scared me half to death, Andrew." You huffed, your attention back on the emails you were answering.

He laughs, his chin poking into the top of your head again, watching as you typed nine knots an hour on your keyboard. "Soooo," he starts and your type comes to a halt. Anytime he says that, something either extremely important or stupid follows.

"So?"

"So I sorta have a date soon, like this week. I.. it's been a while." He admits and you spin in your chair, Andy now leaning on the desk as he looks at you. "You nervous?" You asked.

He nods, "a little, yeah."

"You want my advice?"

"Is there something I should do? What's proper date etiquette ?"

"I don't think there's such a thing," you smiled. "But, if it were me, I'd like flowers. It's not a must but it's a nice touch - shows that you thought about more than just meeting the person, you wanted to make a good first impression."

"Okay," he nods, as if he's making a mental note. "Anything else?"

"Smell good, don't go straight from training. Go home and shower, do your hair, wear some cologne but not too much, you don't wanna make the poor girl sneeze." You laughed, Andy smiled.

"I always smell good."

"Do you?" You raised an eyebrow, looking at him.

Andy pulls you by your chair, sitting himself on your lap so you could smell him. "Ew!" You groaned, "Andy, get off!" He had just come up from training, and it was safe to say he did not smell good right now.

"What?" He asks, making a face at you. "Not good?" He tries not to laugh at your face, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"So gross," you huffed. "Go away before you stink up my office."

"You smell like me now," he cackled, pressing his sweaty self against you. You groaned, pushing him off of you. "I hate you."

"Love you too, y/n!"

Your music played quietly, you hummed along as you finished up your makeup. Your wine glass sat on the vanity and as you were about to reach for it, your phone buzzed.

lfc26: on my way :)

photographer_10: okay!

You sped up a bit, pulling the rollers out of your hair and shaking it out. Just a last second check in the mirror before you head down. Perfectly on time, the doorbell rings when you get to the bottom of the stairs.

"Coming!" You shouted, walking over to open the door.

Imagine your surprise when you see Andy at your front door, all dressed up, smelling good while holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Andy?" You looked at him, confused.

He blinks, looking just as confused as you. "Y/n?"

You take a moment to connect the dots and it seems Andy's doing the same. "26," you point at him and he nods. "Photographer," he mirrors your action, the two of you bust out laughing at the front door.

"I cannot believe this," you shook your head, laughing as you stepped aside for him to come in.

"I swear I didn't know it was you. I've never come to your house!" He chuckles and to be fair, it was true. You had gone to his place and you've gone out quite a few times but he's never been over to yours.

"I brought flowers, like you suggested." He passes the bouquet over to you; 26 roses all perfectly arranged and wrapped up in Liverpool red paper with a bow.

"My favourite," you smiled, smelling them. "Thank you, Andy."

He smiles, nodding. "Do you still.. you know, wanna go out?"

"Yeah," you smiled, setting the flowers on the counter. "If you want to."

Andy nods, waiting for you to put your flowers into a vase before he opens the front door.

You two ended up going to your usual spot, the Italian place on Water Street. The conversation was flowing, the two of you laughing about how you ended up there and chatted about the upcoming games. It felt normal, it felt meant to be.

You couldn't help but wonder how you missed all the signs.

It seemed that you two were meant to be.

Andy drives you home, walking up to the front door like a gentleman.

"Thank you for tonight," you smiled at him, your hand in his. Andy smiles, nodding. "No need to thank me, my pleasure."

He watches as you unlock the front door and step in. Your hand is still in his, as you look back at him. The look on your face says it before you do. "You know.. the night doesn't have to end here."

Andy hums, smiling at you. He seems to have gotten the hint.

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows as you pull him into the house.

The door slams shut, your lips on his as you answer him. "Yeah."

add yourself to the taglist!

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels @muglermami @leclerces @yuoluver @themandaloriansdiaries

#andy robertson #andy robertson x reader #andy robertson x you #andy robertson x y/n #andy robertson imagine #football #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football fanfic #football fic #football one shot

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pippin-katz · 7 months

Text

Alright before anyone asks me:

yes I’m aware Taylor used an AI app/filter thing

no I don’t like that he used it

yes it’s a little problematic that he used it

no he did not violate the strike by using it

yes I have seen the tiktok of those two white bitches demanding queer roles only be played by queer characters

yes they are completely fucking stupid and hypocritical

The SAG strike is fighting against the use of AI to write scripts, create footage, recreate their likeness and voice to steal their identity, and all that fantastic bullshit.

The AI app Taylor used has nothing to do with that.

If the app’s algorithm was trained by photos and artwork that the developers had permission and consent to use, it would be completely fine.

However, 99.9% of them do not have permission. That is also an important AI issue, but it is not the same as what the SAG strike is about. It’s not great that he used it, but he did not do anything wrong regarding the strike.

Also, I’d like to point out that most people are unaware of the theft that goes on behind the scenes. It may seem obvious to people like me, an artist, or people who spend a lot of time on the internet looking at art, but most ordinary people who hop on something like TikTok and use an AI filter are not aware of the thievery that is taking place.

It is not impossible that he isn’t familiar with this issue either, especially given how much he seems to travel, and his attention being on sustainability, specifically in the fashion/clothing industry. He’s busy doing stuff in real life. He’s also a bit of a bookworm, so he’s probably not on the internet nearly as much as people like us.

Is it still bad that he used it? Yes, but it is not something to freak out over. Inform him of the problem and move on.

As for the bitches, I would probably punch the one with braces in the face if I was put in a room with them. They had the gall to complain about Love, Simon being “too happy”, citing how miserable queer people are and how we’re scared to come out of the closet, right after demanding all queer characters be played by queer actors.

Please let this idea DIE. It does far more harm than the good people have in mind.

The idea is that it would get more queer actors hired and more representation overall and whatnot, but if you actually stop to fucking think about it, it is completely stupid.

1. Sexuality is an invisible trait. Anyone can identify as anything simply by saying it.

2. Any queer actor would have to out themselves just to play a queer character on a screen.

3. Actors do not owe the public details about their personal life and identity.

4. Stop assuming everyone is straight until said otherwise. It’s heteronormative and harmful.

One of the best lines in the entirety of Red, White & Royal Blue is this one from Alex’s speech:

“The forced conformity of the closet cannot be answered with forced conformity in coming out of it.”

There are far too many queer people who are failing to understand this. By pressuring people to come out, you are harming them. There are a bunch of different reasons for why they haven’t, with the most important one being that they simply don’t want to. It is their decision, and your opinion is unwanted and irrelevant.

Alright there, I addressed the stuff. Moving on!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez

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sanctus-ingenium · 8 months

Text

answering asks vol 2.

'Smiths' can encompass enginesmiths (mercury), armoursmiths (mars), alchemists (saturn) and some others - generally a smith is someone who works with engines or metal in any capacity, whether by constructing them, managing their fuel, making armour, etc. all of them have a completely degendered role in the church. They are supposed to be wholly devoted to their craft & church, to the point of becoming almost unpeople, sexless.

I like pantera :) he's the main character beast sure (alongside leun) but he's got a lot of interesting history and has been through a lot.

To start out I do some basic sketches while looking at bestiary diagrams of the animal type. Then I draw the base proportions over a photo of the animal's skeleton. Once the joints are all in place and I could imagine it moving relatively freely, I pick a motif and design the armour shapes with that in mind (i.e leun's trefoils, taurus's waves). The motifs come from a bunch of sources - if I see them in medieval art around that animal, the beast's use purpose, the culture that built them and how it might differ in art styles to the 'basic' designs from the heart of the Mezian theocracy. Fun stuff like that.

As an exercise I have taken (human) characters from other settings and made holy beast versions of them, trying to imagine what animal it would be, what weapons, what armour designs, etc. Behold, Bowman:

It's a fun exercise! I recommend :>

Hi! Thank you for the suggestion! I actually did try to use OneNote for my thesis but I found that it ended up an extra step that got in the way. Instead I organised my reference papers manually (and wrote up all my bibliography by hand as well). I haven't heard of Notion so I might look into it :> as someone with adhd I find that the best way for me is to make it stupid easy, which is why discord works because I already use it for talking with friends and I like the mobile app.

SO true!! You can make whatever the hell you want forever and that sounds really cool, I'm glad I was able to help in some little way >:) (although, holy beasts are not robots.. i think the best description for them is just. exotic vehicles.)

lmao it's totally fine!! I love to talk

Sir Heaven had such a profoundly negative experience with Leun that he struggles with the concept of making anybody else do what he now considers to be his burden. He also feels that taking any new people inside Leun would endanger them.

The bishop of Salvius cathedral is the guy Heaven answers to, and his superior officer. The bishop has reported the matter to the pope and they're still working hard presenting new potential novices to Sir Heaven, but the thing is that Sir Heaven rejects them for seemingly valid reasons. He doesn't just say 'no I'm not taking apprentices', he says 'this one's reaction speed isn't good enough' or 'this one is too prideful'. But the longer he tries to keep this up, the more suspicion he heaps on his shoulders. If the time came, no, he would not be able to deny a direct order from the pope.

Ketjan was selected at random, one of a large group of other children who were not raised in the church. This is to ensure that there is no per-existing bias or knowledge of how holy beasts work. And he just happened to be the only one of the group who could master Leun's very demanding dialogue tattoo. The recruiting enginesmiths, who designed Leun's systems, were the ones to train him, but Ketjan was the one to write most of the procedures for operating Leun based on feedback from the dialogue.

Replies from THIS post:

@ospreyonthemoon @kicks-tiktaalik-back-into-water

Krokodilos had an amazing high-tech ventilation system that used active air pumps to keep it circulating. But exactly like the second reply says, it broke down frequently. And because of how it worked, the interior of croc had to be air-tight so that the pumps could work efficiently. And, of course, if it broke down, and it was air tight on the inside, it instantly became a more dangerous deathtrap than your average passively ventilated beast.

There were valves that could be opened in an emergency but these were only added after the first Incident. The pumps would break down from the fabric seals degrading, lose efficacy, and then the parts furthest from the pumps would suddenly not get enough air anymore because air couldn't be moved such a distance with faulty pumps. The reason his enginesmiths want him to be re-commissioned is because the only barrier was the material used for the seals, and they believe they can innovate some new materials or try something different and have it work. They were even thinking of trying natural rubber, which would have worked perfectly, but they never got approval for it.

#setting: mez

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ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa · 4 months

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First shared in The Saiouma Pit discord server, parts said by other members are in quotations, unassigned bullet points are my messages

Hina: "It could go either way but... if it's Shuichi demonic royalty instead of parent, it's his uncle or Shuichi's parents and uncle being there and he's managing to perfectly play shit off to his parents while his uncle is just not buying it?"

his parents being the rulers of hell but his uncle being the one that cares to visit

Dra: "Shuichi tells Kokichi about what's going to happen, Kokichi agrees to help him find someone to marry (they are stupid) but before they can think of anyone time Runs out Shuichi's uncle appears from his silly little red demonic circle, looks at Shuichi, notices Kokichi and just "your human is rather small" And Shuichi loses it because oh fuck he didn't want to get Kokichi involved in this"

Hina: "The fact they really thought an hour was enough time to find a fiancé is just sad"

Fuwa: "we can extend it to 6 hours." And then I said: "no, an hour is perfect"

also Shuichi knew beforehand and just waited helplessly until it was last bell to do anything so he asked Kokichi for ideas

Fuwa: "they do fucking tinder, try to get a demonic looking match. They use a goddamn fake face app, to like, see who's demonic enough, and they point it towards Kokichi on accident at the very end, and it's like "perfect match". "Wow it's truly satan!!""

Hina: "WHY THE FUCK WON'T ANYONE MATCH WITH ME??? I TRIED A THIRST TRAP. I POSTED A PHOTO WITH A DOG. DO YOU NEED A FUCKING FISH??? IS THAT WHAT WE NEED??? SHOULD BE GO FISHING???"

Dra: "Does Kokichi get pros/cons of suddenly being married to demon royalty?" me: "like, what could the cons even possibly be? but yes he does"

after that dinner he stays up at night, pulls out his trusty white board

Dra: ""What if they don't have wifi in hell"", Fuwa: "Shuichi's family" (also listing cons)

Hina: "Pros: Demon Royalty, Would Protect You, Live in Castle, Rich, Cool Uncle, Husband Kinda Cute Ig Cons: The Signal Sucks, Parents are Meh, A lot of fire, Hot. Everyone Here lowkey wants to kill you"

idk about the killing part, I think Kokichi could gain respect in hell, they'd think he has what Shuichi lacks, he was always deemed too timid and soft for a heir to the throne, now this human he brought on the other hand…

Dra: "Ok but it'd actually be so funny if the other demons started going with Kokichi's lies and introduced him as the most powerful demon ruler that just happens to look like a lil dude (it's totally so he can fool sinners into thinking he's harmless) and Shuichi is just watching this go down like "huh""

I love fake dating AUs so I'll try to add a little more to this.

Neither of them has realized their feelings yet when that fated night happens, but something's been brewing through months of their living together. They're just friends that help each other in situations like needing an emergency fiancé. It's cool.

Until it's serious and they're told to pack, so they can begin preparations for the wedding and coronation in Hell as soon as possible. So things get a little tense, but they can go with the flow. It's just another adventure in the life of a supreme leader. And then the shenanigans begin.

The chambers prepared for them obviously have only one bed. They have to show off their affection to sell it to everyone. Learning new details about each other when they're made to pick out stuff for the wedding together. Some frosting on one's face while trying potential cakes. Waking up face to face after swearing to stay on far off sides of the bed the night before.

Kokichi learning things about Shuichi's childhood, Uncle shows him pictures. Shuichi watching Kokichi as he impresses demons with his act, looking at the faces he makes and being not only impressed too, but falling a little bit in love with the joy it brings Kokichi to have a receptive audience.

The realization of feelings being followed by the assumption it's unrequited and wallowing in it. The mixed feelings when trying on suits, dreading the approaching wedding day while thinking the other doesn't feel the same. Something pushing the tension past the limit and causing the confrontation. I've been thinking of maybe introducing a little magic to Hell's wedding traditions; they would each have to throw an ingredient into a huge jug of a special alcoholic drink that is prepared for weddings some days in advance and those specific ingredients have to be thrown in by the couple because the mixture will turn a pretty color when someone in love does this step.

Those idiots. These two morons. When it turns out alright they jump to the conclusion that the other is in love but with somebody else. [This could also be done with Kokichi hearing Shuichi mumble something about love in his sleep, or overhear him venting to somebody who knows their situation, probably Uncle or a friend, say "I think I'm in love" all tragically and the same misunderstanding happens]

So accusations fly, "If you're in love with someone, then why didn't you go to them with this?"

"I didn't know then. Why did you agree to this if there's someone you-?"

"I didn't know. And I expected this to be over by now. I thought that they wouldn't approve of me, or find out it's a farce and then kick me out."

"You should be with the one you love. I can open a portal for you. I can come clean to everyone, I got you into this mess-"

"No. It's not that simple" Shuichi looks at him questioningly, so he sighs and continues "... I am pretty sure it's unrequited. Doesn't matter anymore. What about you? I promised to help. Whatever that means now."

Whether they resolve it at that point or continue without talking things out [Shuichi claiming that his feelings are unrequited too, so their only option is to stay on track.] is up to you.

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #saiouma #oumasai #kokichi oma #made by me #writing prompt #if you use it I'd love to read that!

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trashpandacraft · 10 months

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so this past weekend was the bendigo sheep and wool show, and i'm finally feeling human enough to talk about what i bought?

spoiler: so many.

we went on friday, which i think was smart--it's a huge event, and i imagine it only got way more busy once the weekend hit, plus i really, really needed several days of recovery time afterwards. i think i slept something like fourteen hours after we got home on friday, and spent the rest of the weekend in bed.

incredibly worth it, though.

there was so much fibre!!! and yarn, though surprisingly, we came home with no new yarn.

there were also sheep, and herding dogs, and shearing demonstrations!

very importantly, there was also a twisty potato on a stick. i should have eaten another twisty potato on a stick.

before we went, we talked about reasonable things to buy and limits about what we could purchase, and we stuck to that. except--and this is important--my wife's birthday is this week, and obviously when you're both real weird about fibre stuff, you get fibre stuff presents, but it's stupid to buy things online when you know that you're going to be there in person, touching things with your hands, literally the weekend before birthday time. so i didn't, and instead created a clever backdoor into oops! it's all reasonable, it's a birthday present! i'm a genius.

so we got some spindles, obviously. these are half mine, but after i lost my spindles in a move, we've only had two mediaeval style ones and obviously needed more.

they were all made locally and (other than the 3d printed one) with native woods, which i thought was neat. the biggest of them is still under 40 grams, so they're all pretty small. (which was the point.)

on the birthday present side of things, we came home with some tablet weaving cards and a little shuttle for them. i was really excited to find these, because looking online for people who made nice ones but would ship here was... like, i'd found options, but i didn't love them. the guy who makes them apparently has no website but specialises in making mediaeval games and weapons, and was convinced to make fibre tools by a friend.

that maker also made the wooden turkish spindle, as well a diz/wpi gauge we bought, and also a naalbinding needle that neither of us knows how to use--yet.

apparently there's a ten photo per post limit when you're on the app (why??? like i'm not already suffering enough, using the app??) so i guess i'm gonna do bendigo pt ii: FIBRE as a separate post. tomorrow, though.

#bendigo sheep and wool #fibre craft #fiber craft #shopping #smartest raccoon i know

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desertfangs · 3 months

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Swipe Right [AO3]

Armand/Daniel, Louis/Daniel - 5 Chapters - Explicit

Y'all, I'm so excited about this because this is, no joke, the first AU I've ever written in terms of truly being an alternate universe (I've done some canon divergent stuff but that's it.) I've just been so inspired by the wonderful AUs and AU ideas in this fandom and when I saw the prompt, I knew what I wanted to do.

This was written for @valenfangs for the prompt "Dating App."

Anyhow, I'm a little nervous because this is something I haven't done before but I'm so excited about this fic and I'm really happy with how it turned out. It's 5 chapters, all written (so it is complete), although there is potential for more chapters or a sequel so we'll see. I will post one chapter per week.

Also, where is that anon who asked if I'd ever write Louis/Daniel because uh... here you go. They are not the main focus but the first chapter is pretty much them so... You're welcome! I told you I never know what might happen!

Summary: In this modern, human AU, Daniel is a radio intern with a podcast who installs a Dating App to find love. He matches with a strange, pretty guy named Armand, and meets another gorgeous man, Louis, in a bar. Dating is complicated and weird, but Daniel just wants to find love.

Short Excerpt:

It was an alert from the new dating app he’d signed up for. His pulse quickened. He’d made a profile in a fit of loneliness the other night, a little tipsy and unable to sleep. For all his time spent talking to people, he never seemed to make any lasting romantic connections and the app was a desperate attempt to change that.

Most of the matches had seemed wrong to him immediately and while he didn’t mind the odd dick pic, he didn’t understand the point of sending them without so much as hello to accompany the photo, nor what he was meant to do when he received them. He’d sent one back once and the guy unmatched with him, which hadn’t helped his confidence. Since then, he’d pretty much written the app off as a failed experiment.

He looked at this new match. The guy was gorgeous, that was the first thing he noticed. Auburn hair curling around his chin, big brown eyes, pale skin, and a dusting of freckles. He was young, maybe a few years younger than him. In the photo, he was wearing a t-shirt (a rarity on these apps, most dudes went shirtless), but the funniest part was his profile photo made him look kind of bored. He was smiling faintly but like the photo had been taken by someone else holding him at gunpoint. Daniel found that endearing.

His profile said his name was Armand. He was twenty years old and a student at SFSU. He liked video games, science, and museums. Daniel had to admit he was intrigued. He accepted the match and then sent a short message: “Hi! You’re hot. I also love museums. Maybe we could go sometime.” He hit send and then immediately worried it was stupid. He resisted the urge to delete it. He silenced his phone and tossed it onto his bed.

He went back to editing the podcast, because he needed to get it uploaded by midnight so it could go out tomorrow on time. Not that any of his 67 subscribers ever complained if he was late.

Read the Rest on AO3

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unreliablesnake · 1 year

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Animals - part 4 (Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader)

Summary: You turn to the Military Police to get help against Simon, but this move only enrages him. Things take a tragic turn after his visit.

Note: I didn’t like writing this at all. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Warnings: afab!reader, toxic!Simon, dark!Simon, r*pe, character death. If you’re triggered by any of this or you’re a minor, DON’T READ IT!!!

“What the fuck were you thinking, Simon?” Price yelled when the lieutenant closed the front door behind him. “Attempted rape? Harassment? Stalking? Were you even using your brain when you did these things?”

Ghost let out a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the back of the couch. “She told you, I guess.” The captain nodded. “That’s her side of the story, I hope you don’t believe everything she came up with.”

“I talked to the staff of the inn where she and Soap hid from you, and the receptionist confirmed that you were there, making a scene by insisting on them still being in the building. This also means you really did track her phone.”

“I just… I didn’t want her to do anything stupid, like jumping into a relationship with Soap because she’s a little confused about her feelings for me.”

“She doesn’t love you,” Price pointed out as he watched the other man. “She’s terrified of you.”

The lieutenant tilted his head to the side and gave him a disappointed look. “Come on, John, don’t buy that crap. We aren’t on the best of terms at work, I admit that, but she wouldn’t have slept with me if she didn’t feel anything about me.”

“She did what?”

“See? I thought she would miss that little part out,” he noted dryly. “She didn’t complain about that to me.” And he was right, he knew that, mostly because you were such a good little girl for him, doing everything he said. When he left, you were sleeping peacefully in your bed, looking everything but upset.

“It only happened once?” Ghost nodded. “Look, okay, you had her consent one time, but what about the last mission? I heard what you did, and she definitely didn’t consent at that time.”

He rolled his eyes at this. “Nothing happened.”

“Because Soap arrived to tell you that I wanted to see you,” Price pointed out.

“You think I’m lying?” he asked, offended by even the idea of it. “We were just talking. Okay, maybe I kissed her, but she returned it,” he added.

“That’s not what she said.”

Ghost let out a frustrated huff as he stood straight and gave his superior an expectant look. “Fucking hell, John, this conversation is going nowhere. Do they have any evidence against me?” he asked, genuinely interested.

But Price only shook his head at this with arms folded over his chest defensively. “It’s not my job to know what they do or don’t have against you. And even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” he added with a pointed look.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to hear what you had to say about this issue.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, she’s just making shit up because she hates to admit that she wants me as well,” Ghost explained. “Are you happy? Are we done?”

“We’re done.”

Once Price left, his mind immediately turned to the possible evidence that could be in his home, starting with the drive with those precious photos and videos of you. He hated the idea of getting rid of it, but there was no other choice. He also had to reset his phone, deleting every sign of the tracking app he used to keep an eye on you.

••••••••

You looked at Soap when you let Price into the building, tense from all of the possibilities of how his conversation with Ghost went. You knew he was good at convincing people, what if he could make Price take his side in this?

The moment he entered the apartment, Soap folded his arms over his chest and asked, “So? How did it go?”

Price let out a sigh as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of a chair. He looked tired and at least ten years older now. Whatever had happened, it certainly took its toll on him. “He denied everything. For some reason he’s convinced that you’re only confused about your feelings, but deep down you know you should be together,” he explained.

When he saw your reaction out of the corner of his eye, Soap put a hand around your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “He’s delusional,” he noted.

Nodding, Price sat on the couch and rested his fists on his thighs as he watched you. “This is definitely not the Simon Riley I used to know.”

“Maybe he just needs professional help,” you suggested, surprising even yourself with your sudden wave of kindness and understanding. “Maybe I shouldn’t go through with the plan.”

“Hey, don’t say that. After everything you went through, he has to be punished,” Soap told you.

“You’re right, Soap, but don’t forget that she will have to testify against him,” Price pointed out. “She has to be ready for that. She has to be ready to face him.”

You didn’t want to see him ever again. He was mad at you, why wouldn’t he be, and if he knew your new number, and if you hadn’t deleted all of your social media accounts, he would definitely keep harassing you. You were surprised he hadn’t shown up at your door yet, ready to get revenge for you turning to the Military Police with this.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Soap was tense, probably already disappointed that you were hesitating. He had been by your side from the moment you had asked for his help, and you knew he would stay until the very end. He would support you while the trial lasted, giving you the strength to face Ghost.

“I hope if we go on our next mission, he won’t be there,” you said quietly, glancing over at Price from under your eyelashes.

The captain shook his head. “Of course I won’t let him near the team. But you’re staying here as well.”

“What? No, that’s the only place where I would feel safe,” you told him on the verge of a panic attack. “You can’t do this to me, you can’t expect me to stay here alone when he’s in the same city as me.”

“But you’re under way too much stress, you couldn’t focus on your job properly. The last thing I need is you or anyone else getting hurt because of a mistake,” came the reply.

He was right. You didn’t want to admit it, but Price had every right to feel this way about your return. But you couldn’t get yourself to say it out loud, and instead it was Soap who spoke up. “He’s right,” he said quietly, giving you a sympathetic look. “And I don’t think Ghost would sabotage himself by coming here when he’s under investigation.”

Price nodded and you let out a sigh. “All right.”

In the next week or so Soap remained by your side, but then he had to leave and you were left alone. It was hard to be in the apartment on your own, constantly terrified of the idea of Ghost showing up. Because he was insane, it was quite clear, and who knew how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted.

You barely left your apartment, grocery shopping was usually done online so you could stay at home, and when your neighbors knocked on your door to ask you about that man who had had so many questions about your whereabouts, you simply ignored them.

Soap regularly sent you messages to find out how you were, and even Price and Gaz sent you supportive texts every now and then. Knowing there were people out there who cared about your wellbeing made you feel better, and days passed faster thanks to them.

But before they could return from deployment, you were awakened by a loud banging on your door. You got up from the couch and took a few hesitant steps in that direction, carefully listening as if you couldn’t already guess it was him.

“Open the fucking door,” he growled, his angry tone making you gulp.

This was exactly what you had been afraid of, him showing up to get revenge for everything that had been happening lately. Shaking your head to snap out of it, you ran to the coffee table for your phone and immediately dialed Soap’s number. He didn’t answer, and your call went to voicemail in the end.

“Soap, it’s me. Ghost is here. I–I don’t think he knows I’m at home so he might go away, but if I don’t send you a message that I’m okay, call the police please.”

You weren’t lying, he didn’t know you were there. The television was off, you weren’t listening to music, there was absolutely nothing that could have given away that you were at home. As far as you knew, even your neighbors were at work, so it wasn’t possible that he had begun this visit by asking around.

Then you heard a clicking sound and the door began to open up, revealing the lieutenant’s giant frame. “H–How do you have a key?” you asked weakly.

Ghost closed the door with a grin as he pulled down the mask he wore over the bottom half of his face. “I found it when I was last inside this place.”

It must have been your spare key from the drawer of your desk. He had been alone in your apartment after the one and only time you had sex, after all he sneaked out while you were asleep. Fuck. “Leave or I’ll call the police,” you hissed.

“You can’t really think I’ll just leave you here. After all the shit you’ve put me through lately.”

“The shit I put you through? Ghost, you’ve been harassing me for a long time now, you have to face the consequences!”

Ghost bit on his lower lip as he watched you, his eyes darker all of a sudden. Every single cell in your body was screaming at you to make you run, but when you wanted to obey your instincts, your body gave in. You were frozen by fear and there was nothing you could do about it.

It should be easy, you could do it. You just had to run past him and you would be at the door in a second or two. After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you began to run, hoping this would take him off guard.

But he was expecting this because he simply held out his arm and caught you by your waist. “Where are you running, sweetheart? I’m not done yet,” he whispered menacingly as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a zip tie.

Whispering weak pleads to get him to stop, to let you go, you soon realized that Ghost was not about to give up. He tied your wrists behind your back, and when you began to cry louder, begging him to think it through before doing anything, he pulled out a ball gag and put it on you.

He was prepared. What was happening now was all part of his plan. He didn’t come here to talk, he didn’t want to set things straight. No. He wanted to punish you, it was that simple. For a while he was only watching you, probably enjoying the sight of you being tied up and gagged.

After he was done admiring you, Ghost put a hand on your waist and began to push you towards the bedroom. Panic quickly filled your mind, knowing full well from the look in his eyes what was about to come. How could he be this crazy? Whatever had happened to him that made him snap like that?

Ghost suddenly pulled out a knife and began to cut up the front of your shirt with it. You didn’t feel safe at all. What could’ve been exciting and even sexy in the company of someone you trusted felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. Tears were running down your cheeks but it didn’t seem to bother him, in fact, he looked rather proud of himself for turning you into this whimpering mess.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t look this sad. You’re gonna enjoy it, trust me,” he cooed before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Once he removed your sweatpants and panties with one confident move, he turned you around and pushed you face-first into the mattress. He then began to move your body as if you were some doll he could fold however he wanted, making sure your ass was up in the air for him. You could feel his warm breath on your cunt, and it sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t want this, you wished the police would arrive and help you, but something told you help wasn’t coming. You were on your own, tied, and gagged, and at the mercy of this man. When he let his tongue disappear between your folds, you began to cry even harder, your body squirming to get him to stop.

But he didn’t care, he just slapped your ass so hard you knew it would leave a red mark behind. “Stay still, love, it would be better for the both of us if you just calmed down. Try to relax. You’ll enjoy this, trust me,” he said, repeating his previous words.

Without a warning he pushed two fingers inside of you, furiously pumping as he tried to chase you to an orgasm, his other hand rubbing your clit to make the process even faster. Then another finger joined the first two, stretching you even further, and you could feel the heat pooling in your belly despite your brain trying to stop your body from reacting like this.

“That’s it baby, I can feel that you’re close,” he growled before placing a kiss on your thigh. “Come on, cum on my fingers, let me taste you again.”

And you did, you came on his hand like an obedient slut, your body going limp as he kept fucking you with his fingers. It felt good, and this thought made you feel disgusted. How could you like it when he was literally raping you? You didn’t consent, you didn’t even let him inside your apartment, yet here you were, naked and helpless.

You were snapped back to reality when you felt the head of his massive cock tease your entrance, dipping in a little for a moment before pulling out. “I wish I didn’t have to gag you,” he said as he put his palm on your back and pushed you down. “It was nice to listen to you while I fucked you the last time. But you’re a bad little girl, you can’t keep your mouth shut when you should.”

Suddenly you felt him slam his entire length into you, the move making your eyes roll back into your head from the pain. With a groan he tightened his grip on your hips and fucked you as if you were nothing more but a fleshlight. He was enjoying this way too much, and the guttural sounds and raspy moans leaving his throat made you feel nauseous.

He kept calling you a good little whore as one of his hands moved to your stomach and he pulled you up against his chest. “I wish I could put your hand on your belly so you could feel me move inside of you,” he whispered in your ear before biting on your shoulder.

You tried to turn off your brain, tried to ignore the way he abused you, but it was impossible to get him out of your mind. Your body had once again betrayed you, causing your cunt to tighten around his member as you were close to another orgasm. He kept talking to you, but you didn’t listen, you had no idea what he was saying. All you could focus on was the familiar feeling in your core, pushing you close to the edge.

You came four times in total before he finally stopped, although he didn’t pull out, instead he slowly fucked his cum back into your cunt. He told you how proud he was, what a good little slut you were for him, but he didn’t say anything about letting you go. Even as he was wiping your tears away, he kept talking about the next day, about how you’ll beg him to fuck you eventually, and how it was just the two of you from now on.

“If I take this off,” he began, pointing at the ball gag, “will you be a good girl and stay quiet?” You nodded. At this point you would have promised anything to get rid of it. “All right, let’s see if you can keep your word.”

The plan was simple. You play by his rules, stay quiet, then the moment he goes to the bathroom–because at one point he has to go out–you make a run for it.

Once your mouth was free again, Ghost leaned in to kiss you, tongue soon gliding over your lower lip to get you to open up for him. You had no choice but to return the kiss, feeling like throwing up the whole time. This was disgusting and sick and twisted, but for some reason he thought it was perfectly normal.

After some time the silence of the apartment was broken by your phone’s ringtone. You told Ghost to ignore it, hoping if the caller didn’t get a response they would send help, but he was quick to go out to the living room and check who it was. It didn’t take long to find out Soap was the one calling. The lieutenant was angry, really angry, and he almost smashed your phone against the wall.

“Tell him to stop calling,” he ordered after it began to ring for the third time. “Tell him everything’s okay and that he can stop calling you. But if you dare to say anything more… I guess you already know.”

Nodding, you waited for him to accept the call, put it on speaker, and hold the device closer to you. “Soap?” you asked hoarsely.

“Finally! Is he gone?” came his eager question.

You took a deep breath then gulped. “Everything’s fine, no need to worry.”

“Is he gone? Yes or no?”

It was hard to answer this. Every cell in your body was protesting against lying to him, you wanted to tell him the truth, that Ghost was still there with you. What’s the worst that could happen if you were honest with Soap? He fucks you again? If it meant help would come, at least you would know it would end soon.

So you took a deep breath and said, “He’s still here. I need help. Call the police, please!”

“Fuck,” said both men at the same time.

While Soap was yelling at his higher up over the phone to make him come to his senses, telling him he was calling the police as you’d asked, Ghost threw the phone on the bed and wrapped his hands tightly around your neck to strangle you.

He pushed you into the bed as he choked you, hell-bent on killing you apparently. You tried to tell Soap that he should hurry up, tried to ask Ghost to stop, but no voice left your throat. You were soon losing consciousness, falling in and out of the darkness.

••••••••

He checked several times but you had no pulse. Ghost put his hands on the back of his neck and kept telling himself this wasn’t happening. He didn’t want to hurt you, this wasn’t a part of his plan.

But when you had told Soap that you needed help, he lost it. There was nothing he could have done, his emotions got the best of him.

If the sergeant called the police, they could be there any second. He picked up your phone and unlocked it to check how long it had been since that conversation. Four minutes. He still had time to get out of your apartment. Yes, that’s what he was supposed to do now.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. How could he be this stupid? How could he be this irresponsible? He should have expected you to misbehave, he shouldn’t have taken the ball gag off. “Fuck!” he cursed loudly.

“Hands in the air!” he suddenly heard a voice say behind him.

It was too late. How could he not hear the sirens? With a sigh, he raised his hands and slowly stood up. There was nowhere to run. But where would he go anyway? He killed you, he killed the only good thing in his life.

He was truly the monster you’d been so afraid of all along.

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