#might even tell you that he's got a bit of a blind spot by his right hip

[shotmrmiller]

reader who just breaks down crying after ghost has been mean to her for long enough and him realizing he’s maybe gone too far

if he pushed that far i don't think he's realizing shit. nor verbally apologizing but make you like a cup of tea in the morning or something. might even be a tad bit disappointed you'd let anyone steamroll over you with a couple of mean words. gotta let them bounce off you like a water off a ducks back.

[yeyinde]

the morally questionable relationship between John Price and the darling little starlet he picks up off of the street during the golden age of Hollywood would be such a treat.

because producer!John Price is known as the best of the best in Hollywood. He has an eye for talent, they say, and a keen ability for spotting the diamonds amongst the rubble.

And of all the stars in the world, he sets his sights on you. Pretty little thing. Bright and blinding—Betelgeuse glimmering on the precipice of a supernova. All you need is a little push. A backer. A chance. And he gives it to you. Ushers you into stardom with a crooked grin around the butt of a cigar and a wicked gleam in his eyes that you—in all your artless, sheltered naivete—chalk up to pride.

The problem with sweet little darlings like you is that they all sing the same song. Yearn for the same thing. And it's so easy to mistake his interest as fatherly when the name on your birth certificate reads John Doe. And when he tells you his name is John Price, well—

It's fate, isn't it?

He told you he's been married once but had no children, and the longing in his eyes must be for the family he's never got a chance to have. So, you promise to give it to him.

Problem is: the devil lives in Hollywood and drinks his whiskey neat. You told him you'd be his family, giving him the one that left him behind. Signed your soul to blue eyes for the big screen.

Not that you'd know this, of course. To you, John is a sad widower with a heart of gold. Your overprotective bear who snarls at the directors and actors who get a little too handsy with you on set. His darling little star.

It's easy to wave everyone off when they express concern about these blurring lines between employee and employer. Boss and—

Father figure.

They just don't know him like you do.

And how funny, you tell him one evening with a wry twist to your lips, eyes swimming with sheltered mischief. They thought we were lovers, Mr Price. Isn't that just the damnedest thing?

This little quip has the opposite effect, and if only you looked a little bit closer at the gleam in his eye, the clench in his jaw, you might have seen the storm gathering on the horizon before it hit. Instead of laughing with you at the director's gall, this hilarious joke, John feels you slipping through his fingers just a little bit more. And that simply won't do.

You want a father figure? Then fine. That's what he'll be. Convenient, of course, because he's been thinking about fatherhood a lot lately, too. It's only natural that he decides to cash in on that promise you made all those years ago to make him a proud dad.

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar- Losing your bags at the airport (1.7k words)

Hello all! This is based off that one tweet about Lando losing his bags at the airport and Oscar staying with him. Disclaimer- I know nothing about airports, all of this was google searched stuff, so go easy on me. (I made it an American airport because dealing with a language barrier was too complicated lol) It's mostly fluff, but I suppose a bit of angst?

Also, this is my first fic I'm posting online, so please be kind ❤️

Lando sighed loudly, blowing hair out of his face as he exhaled. He wasn’t the biggest fan of airports by principle. They��re boring, the lines are long, and the whole thing seems so much bigger than it needs to be. But it’s kind of a necessary part of his job, so he’d mostly gotten used to waiting for stupid amounts of time at airports.

But this is just kinda ridiculous. He and Oscar had been waiting for Lando’s suitcase to show up at baggage claim for… well he didn’t know how long it had been, but it was longer than he’d ever had to wait before. Even worse, Oscar’s bag had practically been the first to get dumped out onto the carousel, because of course it had. They were going to the hotel together, so Oscar was staying with him. The Aussie was on his phone, sitting on his suitcase and texting someone. Lando hated the silence, so he tore his eyes away from Oscar’s gorgeous side profile and yawned.

“This is taking foreverrr,” he said, stretching from his place crouched on the floor.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Oscar corrected, not once looking up from his phone.

“Screen-ager,” Lando decided to retaliate. Oscar looked up now, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment clear on his face. Lando looked back to the baggage carousel, satisfied by getting a reaction out of the younger man.

Oscar cleared his throat. “How about we just wait a few more minutes and then go to the baggage desk.”

“Huh?”

“The baggage desk. Where you go if you lose your luggage. It’s right there.” He pointed, and sure enough, back against the wall and a few carousels down was a little front desk-looking thing, with neon letters spelling out ‘Baggage Desk’ above it.

“Oh,” Lando mumbled, adjusting his hat. 

“I’ll just tell Zak we’ll be a bit later than expected,” Oscar said, giving Lando a blinding smile that made his stomach twist with that complicated more-than-just-a-crush feeling he preferred not to think about. He hummed in response, fiddling with his hoodie strings.

After a few more minutes, everyone that had been on their flight (aka about half the Mclaren crew, including Zak and Andrea who had ditched them first chance they got) had left, and Lando was getting more and more stressed out. He was biting his lip and running his hands through his hair repeatedly, imagining practically every worse-case scenario. What if his suitcase got on the wrong flight? What if there was something bad in there he didn’t realize and they wouldn’t let him get his stuff? What if some rando took his stuff?

He didn’t realize Oscar was talking to him until a hand waved in front of his face. He looked to his teammate who was already staring at him worriedly.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, resting his hand on Lando’s arm. Lando managed a small, likely unconvincing nod. 

Oscar let go of his upper arm with a gentle squeeze, and Lando might just melt away at the spot. “Well, I was asking you if you wanted to go to the baggage desk and ask about your suitcase?”

Lando nodded again and stood, walking away before even giving Oscar a chance to do so as well. He felt a bit bad as he heard Oscar scramble upright and start pulling his suitcase behind him, but it had been a long day and he really just needed to collapse into his hotel room now.

He reached the desk and made eye contact with a short woman, her long brown hair tied up in a low ponytail and wearing official looking clothes, who was standing near the back of the small room. She rushed forward and sat down in a swivel chair, pushing her glasses up.

“What’s your issue, dearie?” she said in a strong Southern accent, only slightly muffled by the thick glass separating them.

“Uh, can’t find my bag. Didn't show up,” he said with a guilty smile. He tried to turn on his charm as much as possible, his train of thought being, Maybe if I’m nice she’ll be nice back and then I can go to bed quicker. 

“Alright love. Name?”

“Lando Norris,” he said. Oscar had reached him by now, standing so close to his side that their shoulders were almost brushing against each other.

The lady did some typing on her computer, then let out a little tsk sound in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry, it seems like your luggage got sent to the wrong place. We’re trying to get it here as we speak.”

Lando shot a glance back to Oscar, who raised his eyebrows. “Do you know what happened?” he asked the lady. He looked at the pin on her shirt, which said her name was Charlotte. Huh, she didn’t look like a Charlotte.

Charlotte gave a shrug in response. “Could’ve been anything. My guess, there wasn’t enough space in the cargo hold on your plane. It got placed on the wrong extra-storage space, and got sent somewhere else. You’ll have to wait until it gets here. That might take a while.”

Lando worked hard to suppress a groan. “Okay. Thanks.” He tried for a smile that ended up more like a grimace.

“You two can sit in one of those chairs on the right while you wait,” Charlotte said with a sympathetic smile. Lando turned to his right and flopped into a chair. At least they were cushioned. 

This night was turning shitty fast. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? And what was even more awful about this was that Oscar had to stay with him.

“Sorry about this,” he told his friend, who looked at him confused.

“Why? It’s nothing you could control.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just…” he trailed off, not sure how to explain that somehow he was blaming himself for this. No, he’d never tell Oscar that, he’d think he was weird. The edge of Lando’s eyes were starting to water with tears, and he wanted to scream. You’re such a baby. What’s your problem? Bury it, you can’t do this right now. Crybaby.

“Hey, Lando, it’s okay,” Oscar said, reaching out with one hand. He touched Lando’s shoulder tenderly. “I don’t mind.”

Lando hugged his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees. “I’m just having a bad day,” he mumbled, and for a second he wasn’t sure if Oscar heard him.

“That’s alright,” Oscar said, and he let go of Lando’s arm. Lando didn’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of contact though, because then Oscar’s arm was wrapping around his shoulders and gently tugging him closer. Lando practically fell onto his chest, and could feel his cheeks reddening.

“This okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You can rest. You know, if you want. I know you’re tired.”

“Will you wake me up when my suitcase shows up?”

“Mm-hmm,” Oscar hummed, and Lando let himself sink into his embrace, their breaths and heartbeats syncing. Oscar was really cuddly, he thought as he drifted off.

# # #

“Hey, Lando, wake up.”

Osc, Lando thought and smiled. “Wake up, Lando.” Then someone was gently pushing his shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes.

He took in his surroundings with a moment of slight confusion before remembering. The airport. His bags. Crying. Oscar.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the man in question said, and Lando swore he felt his fingers brushing through his curls. “C’mon, your stuff got here.”

A part of Lando wanted to jump up and start doing a victory dance on the spot. The annoyance of getting up overruled it though. He was so comfy.

Wait, where exactly was he? He knew he was at the airport, but this was way too comfy for a chair. His eyes flickered around trying to figure it out, and oh God he was in Oscar’s lap. He quickly sat up, using his hands to push himself upright. However, he didn’t account for where he was putting his hands, and ended up putting half of his weight on Oscar’s thigh. Oscar let out a little grunt of pain, wincing.

“Oh shit, sorry sorry sorry,” Lando hurriedly apologized, backing up.

“No no, you’re fine,” Oscar reassured him, but his voice was strained. He looked at Lando with a smirk. “Are you trying to sabotage me, Lando Norris?”

“I’m sorry!”

Oscar just giggled and stood. He reached a hand out to Lando, who took it. He used his free hand to grab his suitcase and took off confidently to the left, not releasing his tight grasp on Lando’s hand.

“Uh, where are we going?” Lando asked, desperately trying to stop the stupid butterflies rising in his stomach. God he was so childish, they were literally just holding hands. But they were holding hands. 

“To get your bag. Obviously.”

With no further explanation, he proceeded to get dragged through what felt like half the airport. Not that he minded. Every once in a while Oscar would look back and give him a trademark Osc Smile that made his insides turn to mush, so that made up for the mystery part pretty well.

Finally they reached their destination, some obscure part of the airport. A few official people gave him his suitcase along with many apologies and a crap ton of airline points (not that those were especially helpful to him, Mclaren paid for most of his flights anyways. It was a nice gesture though.) He accepted the apologies quickly, not wanting to drag out this process any longer than necessary.

 Then they were in a taxi headed to their hotel, and the exhaustion was coming back ten-fold.

“Tired?” Oscar asked once Lando had yawned for the fifth time.

“Just a bit,” Lando quipped.

“Want to sleep again?”

“You’re fine with it?”

“Of course.”

Lando hesitantly let his head fall on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar’s arm found its way around his shoulders again.

Just before Lando fell asleep again, he felt a feather-light kiss pressing against his head, and he scooted closer to Oscar with a sigh.

Here are some people who said they were interested: @slugesh, @peppysinc, @sunnykasarova, @alto-the-avocado, @lailau7904, @standgrand, @chamberkat

[konpeitonom]

jimmy headcanons with curly’s niece who is only working with pony express because of her relation with curly… naive and dumb and he doesn’t think she deserves to be working there (sfwandnsfw😬)

jimmy taking advantage of curlys niece.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader - content warnings for legal age gap (18-25 implied reader, jimmy 30s-40s) jimmys character overall. manipulation? don’t like don’t read, block button is right there. minors do not read the nsfw section

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; requester is my friend yayayahahh i hope u like this.. short bc i did not have many ideas. u mentioned in dms he’d have a soft spot for u but idk if i showed that well oopsies. ~ never proofread as always

SFW

— you didn’t deserve your place at all, only got in because your uncle is some high and mighty captain. pony express is cheap, so he’d wonder why they’d add someone completely useless- young adult/older teenager who knows jack shit.

— was bitter about it (as if he didn’t use curly to get his job as well) but stopped when he noticed how cute you were. an idiot who has no idea what she wants to do in life, he needed that.

— i think he started pursuing you at first to kind of piss off curly. maybe not intentionally but like subconsciously, he wanted to hurt curly. and you boarding the tulpar was the perfect moment for that!!

— he’s met you before. him and curly are long-time friends, so probably at some sort of family gathering.. you didn’t catch his eye though, you were a teenager.

— i think he’d grow to have a bit of a soft spot for you, however. i think the others would think it’s simply because he and curly are close, so he has a bias towards curlys niece.

— you’d look up to him. he’s your cool uncles friend! how couldn’t you? and he’s a pilot? that’s cool. so cool. on paper, at least.

— no one would really be mean to you, but if they were, jimmy would get upset at them! it might come off as “he’s just so nice..” to you, but in reality he feels as if he owns you in a sense. you just look up to him so much.

— jimmy thinks it’s cute you’re so dumb and naive. he can mold you to whatever he wants. he has to play smart about it though. he can’t have you running off crying to your uncle, like he’d do anything- but still.

— hes the co-pilot, and while it’s a vital role it’s not like he’s the captain. still though, he’d use that as an excuse to sort of boss you around. like, “that’s not how you’re supposed to do it, are you blind?”

— then right after would say something sweet to keep you coming back. and he likes you, like “yeah, there you go, good job. do it right next time, yeah?” .. he doesn’t speak that way just to anyone, you’re special.

— would touch you subtly.. like light touches on your hips, waist. enough for you to notice but also enough for you to be like, “he’s just friendly” !!

— curly doesn’t notice it, ngl. even if he did he’d just brush it off like, “jimmys always like that with girls, pay no mind too it. but tell me if it gets too much, kid” .. and would still do nothing

— maybe he’d have a ‘talk’ with him? but that’s really it

NSFW

minors do not read

— for your first time, he would be nice about it. seriously. especially if you were a virgin. i mean, in his head he isn’t saying nice things but he’s gotta make you wanna stick around him, no? he’s charming with his words, so allll the shit things he does either flys by your head or are excused with how ‘nice he is sometimes!’

— we see this in the way he interacts with daisuke. he knows exactly what to say. ^_^

— after awhile he’d shame you to hell about it, sorry. doesn’t matter if he initiated it first. you’re still fucking weird for wanting to be with an older guy like him, let alone your uncles friend.

— he’d say shit like, “what if he walked in right now, huh? that’s your uncle.” and would laugh in your face as you clenched around him.

— he fantasizes about doing it in the cockpit, but he knows he can’t because curly can walk in at any time. too big of a risk for him. though maybe that’s the fun of it all.

— he’d do it if you suggested it though haha.. would make you call him captain because he’s weird like that. his jealousy for curly is evident in your relationship!

— “is this what pony express hired you to do?”

— he is a panty stealer. when you fuck there’s a 50% chance you’ll have to run back to your room to get a new pair of underwear because he isn’t giving it back.

— the other 50% is him cumming in your panties and making you wear it. yeah he’s gross, sorry. on your next trip you’ll know to bring double what you usually do.

— sex is all about him, honestly. i mean he knows he has to make it worthwhile so you’ll stay, but besides that his first priority is to please himself.

— contrayer to popular opinion, he likes it when you’re riding him. he feels in control; because at any time he can just grab your hips and fuck you himself.

— likes seeing your face contort and flush, pushing his face away in embarrassment as you make a mess of yourself on his cock.. he lives off that shit

— ok i’m done i hate this man

[americanwh0rerstory]

hi!! I hope u r doing well💗

Could u maybe write a Tate smut with virgin!reader?

Love your work.

Just a lil’ bit [tate langdon]

Tate x virgin!reader

SUMMARY: reader loses her virginity to tate, the ghost who’s been ‘stalking’ her ever since she moved in

CONTENT WARNING: stalking (sorta), tate watching reader without her knowledge, masturbation mentioned, unprotected p in v, fingering, slow sex.

A/N: thx for the request, i hope you enjoy it! pt 2 of drunk!peter is also being made, anyone waiting for that it will be here soon

NSFW BELOW. CONSUMPTION IS DONE AT OWN FAULT

ever since you moved into the murder house, you had been feeling like you’re being watched. it was a strange feeling, one you couldn’t shake off no matter how many curtains you closed, doors you shut, and no matter how much you curled under the blanket.

eventually you met tate, the sweetest boy you had ever known. you didn’t know he had been watching you, you didn’t know how he’d palm himself through his jeans whilst watching you shower, you didn’t know how he’d jack off watching you sleep, you didn’t know he was dead.

he was your first for a lot of things: first boyfriend, first kiss, first hug, first… well that was about it. that’s all you had done.

he lay beside you in bed, rolled onto his side so he could look at you. he idly traced circles on the exposed skin of your hip whilst he softly spoke to you.

“y’know, it must be hard watching all those romance movies you like” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath ticking your skin. “seeing those couples getting it on yet you’ve never gotten it on” tate continues, looking at you through his lashes.

he gave you enough time to respond but when you didn’t, he decided to press his lips against yours. his tongue dominated your own in a passionate kiss, causing you to let out an involuntary moan in response. he took that as a sign to keep going, that you were enjoying it.

with blind expertise, he pulled your trousers down and began rubbing small but fast circles over your clit through your panties; the foreign sensation causing you to mewl softly.

“you like that?” he mumbled into your ear, the pressure increasing.. “so so wet. that all for me?” his voice sent shivers down your spine, heading straight to your pulsating clit.

the new and strange feelings flooded your senses with pleasure, so much so that you was already drunk from the euphoria and you hadn’t even came yet

“might hurt a little, you can take it right? good girl” tate said in his usual hushed tone before sliding two fingers into your wetness and making scissor motions to loosen you up slightly.

his fingertips rubbed against your g-spot, eliciting sweet and guttural moans from within you; those noises brought a smirk to tate’s face and urged him to continue

your cunt clenched around his fingers, oozing your wetness all over him which only prompted him to pull out and lick his fingers clean

“ain’t done yet” he states in between licks. his words brought an air of dominance to him which only made your pussy weep even more. but before you could protest to the how empty feeling, he began to slowly push his cock into you inch by inch.

he was girthy and around 6.5 inches, a size you thought would’ve been impossible to take, but he made it happen. using your wetness and his precum as lube, he pushed in until he was balls deep and then paused to give you a moment to adjust

“this good?” he asks, adjusting you so your legs were on his shoulders “gonna start moving now, but just tell me if it’s too much”

he laced his fingers with your own before beginning to make slow but deep thrusts, his hips making the most subtle movements to get you used to the feeling.

it felt like a perfect blend of pain and pleasure tearing you apart and splitting you inside out. but the way every stroke hit that internal sweet spot numbed the pain and turned it into sinful bliss

his thrusts continued and slowly got faster the more you got used to the feel of sex, slowly getting faster and slightly sloppy with how he was teetering on the edge. he held back as long as he could, but ultimately spilled and released steaming ropes of cum into your cunt, pornographicly moaning your name at a shamelessly loud volume.

“fuck, you did so good f’ me” he pants breathlessly, pulling out she carefully scooping you up into his arms. “c’mon, i’ll run you a bath”

[trustmypoison]

Enhypen and their 'oh' moment

Requested? Yes! Request: ‘so happy you’re willing to write for other groups 💞 my request is enhypen members falling in love / realizing they’re falling in love’

Jungwon Like most group leaders, he carries a lot on his shoulders. He probably feels that he can’t share that responsibility with anyone else from time to time. Still, he finds himself opening up about his stresses one night and he lets you comfort him. He likes to be strong for everyone else and wants to appear unaffected, but he feels safe appearing affected in front of you because you’re so gentle about it. It’s when he’s got his head in your lap after he unloads all his worries that he has his little ‘oh’ moment.

Heesung He might come off as reserved and even a little bit cold at first (someone please prove me wrong though!!). You might even think he doesn’t like you very much because he’s perhaps not as outwardly expressive as others. But trust that he has a soft spot for you. He might not let some of the younger members get away with something, but you can right in front of him and he’ll never say a word. If one of the younger members throws a fit about this preferential treatment, he’ll blink a few times and think, ‘huh. That’s weird.’ Largely unaffected by this revelation though.

Jay I think he’d be one of those that knows pretty early on that he’s falling. Within the first few times he meets you, he recognizes what’s happening in slow motion, so there’s no big ‘oh’ moment. Just a series of little confirmations along the way that his assumption was correct. You do the slightest, most monotonous thing and he thinks. ‘Yep, I think I’m in love.’ It’s not this big, scary feeling like some of the other members might experience, but rather a comforting feeling to fall.

Jake Now he might be shocked. Say you aren’t even dating but you share some mutual friends. He sees you playing with Layla in the other room and one of his group members calls him out for his staring, and maybe even calls him ‘lovesick’. Totally flabbergasted because what do you mean?? It’s not like that?? His group members’ faces tell him everything he needs to know - which is that he’s a blind idiot (affectionate).

Sunghoon Ok, he realizes because he’s jealous. Regardless of whether you are dating or not, he’ll see someone get way too close to you, or hear someone talk about how they’re going to ask you out, and he’s panicking!! Cannot determine right away why he’s panicking because he’d like to think he’s not a very possessive person. But here we are. The ‘oh’ moment is when he realizes he perked up as soon as your attention was back on him. Might just confess in a roundabout way right then, like, “don’t pay attention to anyone else, okay? Only me!” A big baby.

Sunoo lol he says he hates annoying things. Then lets you annoy him continuously. Doesn’t say a word when you poke his cheek or boop his nose. Doesn’t complain when you keep him up with your yapping in the middle of the night. Doesn’t think the first thing of bailing on any other plans because you’re bored. This will be a super slow realization, but when it finally does hit him, it’s because HE said he missed you and you laugh and say, “but we’re constantly together!” ‘Oh’ indeed.

Niki To no one’s surprise, Niki has maknae privileges and totally milks it for all it’s worth. He’s totally fine with being babied by his members. He’s used to being protected, but feels rather protective of you. Might even speak up to his hyungs if they mess with you too much, to which they’ll tease him about. Thing is, he might start swinging on them if they don’t stop!! The thought that it’s anymore than friends doesn’t compute for him until it’s spelled out for him by one of his group members, probably in a sarcastic way - like, “Fine, fine, we’ll stop messing with your girl.” Never occurred to him that you could be his until that moment.

[serene-destruction]

(Platonic) Reactions To Finding Out You're In Hell For Killing Your Abuser [Angel, Lucifer, Alastor, Vox]

TW: Mentions of childhood sexual abuse | Cannon typical violence | Mentions of suicide

A/n: this one is really dark so reader discretion is greatly advised. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

Angel Dust

You and Angel Dust likely met at the hotel. You were a newer resident of hell that just so happened to be spotted by Charlie and taken in after wondering the streets.

He didn't take to you right away, considering he had his own issues to deal with. Not to mention that you were such a goody two shoes that it kinda made him feel even worse about himself. Despite his name he knew he was far from any angel and your presence only exemplified that.

By all accounts you seemed to save your shit together. A drug free, pure and kind person, through and through. You never faltered. So it takes a while for him to even stand being in your presence, longer to actually try and talk with you. He hates that he doesn't find something to hate about you. Just so damn perfect.

He should have known better, truthfully. No one gets sent to hell off a whim, there were reasons. He was just so blinded by your purity at first that he doesn't see it. He isn't the only one, either. Charlie would be the first to use you as an example of purity.

But all the same the two of you do end up getting close to each other. You may be a bit straight-laced for his taste, but he can't help but grow attached. You're a good kid, you really don't deserve to be here.

It only takes one night for his perceptions of you to shatter

It started with one of Charlie's trust games. You were all meant to share what sins brought you down here. In a place like hell that wasn't usually a very taboo subject. Murder, drugs, sex, Angel's heard it all. But despite that assurance you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the exercise. You had locked yourself in your room, refusing to participate. So while the others went on ahead Angel decided he'd talk to you.

“Kid! C’mon, it can't be that bad!”

“I don't want to!” You were adamant. He should have known it right then

“Kid…look, can ya at least let me in? I'm tired of yelling through the door!” He pleaded and, to his surprise, you did. Your eyes avoided him completely as you allowed him to step in the room. Even when the two of you sat down on your bed you didn't budge. You looked almost as terrified as the first day you came here.

“Look, I get that admittin’ what you done can be a bit…embarrassin’ sometimes,” he's tries to calm you.

“But none of us are perfect and you ain't any different. Hell, it might even be good for you” his attempt at comfort didn't seem to be working. In fact he might have made it worse, given how you turned further away from him.

“It’s not just because it's embarrassing! I- I just don't want to tell everyone!” you answer through a tightening voice. There's a pause as Angel considers your words before he speaks again.

“Then you don't gotta tell everyone. You can just tell me” He was surprised when the offer had you turning back to him, though your discomfort was still evident. You didn't say anything at first but eventually you found the words.

“...Promise you won't tell anybody?” he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure you were being overdramatic. You probably told a little lie that got out of control or accidentally kicked a puppy or-

“Promise” he answered anyway.

And so you told him

“I…I was tired of him touching me” Angel’s stomach immediately drops at just those few words. All of his previous downplaying caused an explosion of guilt within him.

“He was always touching. Every day since I was little. Every time he was over, every time I was alone. I couldn't- I…I just wanted it to be over”

He knew where this was going.

“I-I snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. Eighteen fucking years” your voice is a mix of rage and pain, a sound he didn't think you capable of until now.

“I'd never been so angry. I didn't- I didn't know what I was doing until it was over. There was blood everywhere- I killed him and…and I couldn't live with myself. I'd never done something like that before! I'd never hurt anyone! I couldn't live with that- I couldn't-”

Before you can spiral any further you feel Angels hand land on yours. With slow, purposeful movements he pulled you into his arms. You freeze for a moment, caught entirely off guard by the sudden comfort. He was careful not to hold you too tight and keep his breaths steady. Keep himself predictable.

“S’okay kid…You didn't do a damn thing wrong” his whispered words break through your shock, melting you into a pile of sobs in his arms, gripping onto him like your very soul depended on it.

After that night the two of you quickly become known for your fierce protectiveness over each other. Angel swears that if he ever sees the bastard he'll rip him a new asshole before shoving a spike in it.

Lucifer Morningstar

You were one of many assistants to Lucifer, helping him with the many tasks he doesn't ever keep up with as the king of hell. You are most likely ignored and/or forgotten about for a while. He is far too, uh…busy for remembering much of anything, let alone names and job titles.

However you do manage to catch his eyes when he finally notices your apparent lack of any sort of social life in hell. Unlike the others he has working for him who seem all too happy to indulge in hells many depraved luxuries, you aren't one of them.

It triggers his curiosity, so he starts to remember your name and even manages to strike up conversations with you that don't sound like he's desperately trying to remember who he's even talking to.

You begin to be the first person he goes to when he needs something done and in turn you go to him when you need something as well. It's never anything too much, he notices. Always just small tasks that take him almost no effort at all. But you seem to beam at even the smallest kindness.

But then there is that ill-fated night…

It was late and you were still hard at work in your office.

Or at least you would have been, if you didn't feel like the weight of everything was weighing down on you as you stared down the two items Lucifer had left for you. A small note and a tiny rubber duck. You kept re-reading the note over and over again.

‘You're a good kid, Y/n. Keep it up’

The small gesture had formed a sickening guilt in you. You were the farthest thing from good. What you had done rightfully landed you in the shithole you belonged in. You didn't deserve his kindness, let alone his care. You felt so guilty for ever allowing him to think that you-

A knock at your door has you quickly wiping away your tears. Before you can say anything he opens it, his wide smile falling immediately.

“Oh no, what-” he pauses when he sees the death grip you have on the rubber duck he'd gifted, your eyes unable to even glance at him. He gives a nervous laugh at that. It sounds more worried than anything.

“You uh- don't like the gift, I take it?” At that your head whips to look at him, an attempt to calm your nerves written all over your face.

“No! No that's not-…no” your frantic words die down quickly as you quickly turn away again, unable to look the man in the eyes. There is a long silence that feels almost like an eternity passing. Then, to your complete surprise, he slowly pulls up a chair next to you, his eyes not turning from you for even a moment.

“Do you…maybe wanna talk about what it is then?” His voice is disarming, a mix of poorly feigned calm and genuine concern. It frightens you how quickly he makes you want to spill your guts.

“It's- I’m not-” You pause, trying to collect your words. You know then that you can't bear to tell him anything but the truth.

“I don't deserve this” you gesture to the toy and his letter. He doesn't seem to understand.

“You? Y/n, you're practically the only reason I get any work done around here! The least I can do is this, truly. Why wouldn't you deserve it?” His tone is full of disbelief, almost entirely sure that you must be avoiding telling him the entire truth.

“Because it isn't true” the bluntness of your words catches him off guard.

“I killed him and…and it felt good when I did it. It felt good to hurt him like he hurt me, it felt good being in control. It didn't feel bad when I put that knife through his throat, It didn't feel bad when I finally got him to stop touching me. It didn't…until it was over” the tears that had brimmed at your eyes fell like rivers, your attempts to wipe them away fruitless. You didn't dare look him in the eye, even as you continued.

“There was so much blood. I…I didn't know what to do. I- I didn't mean- no, no I did. But I just couldn't live with it. I couldn't live knowing that I killed him and that all I could think about was that he'd never touch me again! I couldn't-!” your words are cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around you. For a moment you freeze, confused and horrified by the action, that is until the comfort of it seeps into you, knowing that the hands that held you now meant no harm. After that you sobbed into him.

Only once you'd calmed your sobs to hiccups and your grip loosened did he finally pull away. But he didn't go far and his eyes looked at you with nothing but pure concern.

“You listen to me, okay? I would never hold that against you. I couldn't if I tried. You did what you had to and I trust that you did it for the right reasons” his words of forgiveness strike through you, hitting you directly in your wounded heart. Never before had you believed anyone could look so kindly upon you knowing what you'd done.

After that day Lucifer had become quite father-like to you, treating you just like he would his own kid. You practically become an honorary Morningstar.

Alastor

You and Alastor have an…interesting relationship. the two of you very likely met at the hotel, considering he wouldn't have given you a second glance otherwise. You were, after all, just one of the many other souls, and not an impressive one at that. Meek, young and weak.

It takes a long while for Alastor to warm up to you, most likely because you avoid him at all cost. You learn quickly that Alastor doesn't like being avoided like that when he begins to follow you around.

It's through conversation that he grows interested in you. When you aren't blinded by your fear he's actually a great conversationalist, especially when he's alone with you. It seems almost like he drops a bit of his guard as well, something you explain away as you being of zero threat to him. The two of you often talk of your plans for the day and whatever latest idea Charlie has conjured. Small talk, for the most part. Never anything personal

Which is why you are so caught off guard when he asks the truthfully inevitable question.

It was a usual calm morning in the hotel kitchen. A bit of smooth jazz played from an old radio, the coffee machine churned, the constant static from Alastor flowed through the room and the sound of idle chit-chat passed between the two of you. Besides the fact that no one else joined the two of you, it all seemed relatively normal.

“I must say, for someone in Hell you have quite the kind heart, my dear. One might even ask how you managed to get yourself down here” Alastors words cause your heart to sink almost immediately. Your body tenses, your breathing catching for just a moment. You make sure to keep your eyes on the coffee pot and manage to give him a halfhearted laugh. But you know the moment he goes quiet for just that second too long that he noticed.

“How did you end up down here, if you don't mind telling me?” You feel your tongue go dry, your jaw clench, your entire being beg to leave this conversation. But you knew there wasn't a chance in all of Hell that you'd get out of this. If he didn't get an answer now he'd be sure to get one later.

“I uh…” you start, nausea threatening to crawl in.

“I don't know” you try to answer, hoping beyond hope that it would satisfy him.

It did not.

“Now now, one mustn't feel the need to lie to friends. I assure you I've seen worse than whatever it is you managed to do!” You pause at his words, finally turning over your shoulder to look at him.

“We’re…friends?” You ask, surprised to see him look almost just as confused by your words.

“Why of course! The both of us have quite nice talks with one another, why wouldn't we be?” He seems so confident as he speaks. Despite how skeptical you've been ever since meeting him, you can't help but feel that he might genuinely be growing on you. Fuck, you might even trust the guy. Not with your soul, mind you, but you were sure at least your words would be safe with him.

“Out with it then, what got you sent down to this lovely pit of fire and brimstone?” his tone is jovial and light, not taking this nearly as seriously as you felt he should be. You were weirded out when it actually helped you calm down a little.

“Well…” should you tell him? Would he even care? Would he blink an eye at your suffering? Would he laugh at you? All the possibilities ran through your head at once.

When you finally turned to face him he gave you an expectant look, fully anticipating an answer from you. So you took a deep breath and turned your head to gaze at a nearby wall before beginning.

“My uncle, he um…well he didn't really know how to keep his hands to himself. Ever since I first met the man he wouldn't keep his damn hands off me. Then mom died and I had to live with him and…” you pause a moment, trying to keep yourself together. With a deep breath you continued.

“He never stopped touching me. No one believed me, no one did anything. Not when I was eight, or ten, or fifteen. Not after either. I was just alone with him. Every day of every month of every year…until I couldn't take it anymore” your voice was quiet now, just above a whisper to keep it from shaking.

“I was cooking dinner when he came behind me and-…I snapped and…well I'm not really sure. I just remember being covered in blood and knowing that no one would believe me. So I did what I thought was the only thing I could do. Next thing I knew I found out I had been damned for all eternity” you hugged yourself in an attempt at comfort that wasn't working. You managed, by the smallest effort, to keep your tears in and your breath steady, but you knew you'd break at any moment. When you turned to him, his smile still plastered and staring blankly at you, you thought you just might have done so then. So you quickly turned back around to save yourself the embarrassment.

“But yeah. Pretty sure that's why I'm here-”

“That was quite brave of you” his words shock you still enough that you might have even felt your heart stop. Your head snaps back to him in an instant, unsure if you'd heard him right. He's standing now, smile just a little less wide and leaning on his cane. If you didn't know any better you might have mistaken it for a look of uncanny care.

“What?” You whisper the word. He stands a little taller at that.

“When the world stops caring then one must simply make it. Very few do so, and so I applaud your effort in taking fate into your own hands” he is serious, almost deathly so. His words aren’t what you expected, but they are actually some of the most comforting you'd ever heard. Not only because he believed you, but because he truly believed you'd done the right thing.

“...Thank you” his smile widens again and you catch how ever so slightly bigger his antlers have gotten and the small flicks of green that seem to only show in your peripheral. You choose not to say anything about it.

“Of course! Now I simply must be on my way! There is much to do and so little time. Have a pleasant rest of your morning!” he was out the door before you even realized he was leaving. You would have said goodbye yourself if you didn't know he was already gone. And without his coffee too!

After this little incident Alastor seems almost tied at your hip. You are warned time and time again not to get too close to him but after the way he took the news of your sin you honestly don't think you could push him away. He was the first person you'd ever told in Hell, the first person to ever believe you. And given how keen he is on keeping you safe both in and out of the hotel you are quite happy to call him a friend.

Vox

The only way you'd be able to get even a second glance from Vox is if you worked for him and, let's be real, he couldn't have given less of a shit about you when he first met you. You were one out of thousands that worked on his many, many projects. You were lucky if he ever even read your name, let alone remembered it.

It takes quite the circumstance for him to notice you and it's likely only because of very selfish reasons. Maybe he picks you out of the crowd as a gag at first. The big CEO talking to this meek little low life, giving them a glance at something they'll never achieve.

But Vox has a way of getting attached to the strangest things sometimes and you end up being among them. Maybe it's the way you go along with whatever he's saying, playing to his ego. Maybe it's the way he knows you don't mean a single word and he feels he has to prove himself. Or maybe he just liked having a bit of a babyface around to impress. Either way, he ends up kind of taking you in.

You become a sort of protege to Vox as he teaches you all about his company and how to run it; mostly so he can hand you the tasks of the day that he doesn't feel like handling. You're a secretary of sorts. He does, however, try to keep a distance between you and the other V’s. Mostly because he knows they can be a bit much and he doesn't want to scare you off just yet.

But it's inevitable that you would meet them someday. And, as he expected, the first meeting didn't go very well.

You and Vox were on your way down the hall in the middle of idle conversation that was mostly work related. You liked having these conversations with him, mostly because he always seemed so pleased when you'd give him an idea he liked or a change he'd consider. You felt useful in a way you hadn't really ever felt before-

“My my, if it isn't Vox and his new little pet” the voice speaks behind you and both you and Vox turn to see who it is. You are set on edge when Vox gets suddenly nervous.

“Val! I thought you had work down in the studio today?” Vox’s voice booms in the way you know he only does when he's trying to keep his cool. You make sure to stand a little closer to him when Val walks up to the two of you.

“You've been hiding from me, love. So I figured I'd pay a visit. Good thing too” the moth man leans down to you so close you feel your entire being beg to disappear.

“I wouldn’t have met the darling that's been keeping Voxy so occupied. Cosita bonita” he looks down at you, his smile alone sending a cold shiver up your spine. He grabs your hand and instead of doing anything normal like shaking or kissing it, he instead begins to lick up your arm.

“Rumor has it your little fall from grace betrays how sweet as you look” Horrified and feeling very familiar fear consume your being, you freeze up. Luckily, and rather surprisingly, Vox very quickly pulls him away from you.

“Alright, alright that's enough of that!” his tone is that of a light reprimand, though the swirls in his eyes betray him. He effortlessly spins the moth man around in something similar to a dance, ending with the two of them facing away from you. Whispered words are exchanged, Val glancing back at you for only a moment afterwards before walking off with no complaint.

Vox straightens his suit, his performative smile falling for a moment before turning back to you.

“Let's get back on our way” he beckons you as he continues to walk. You follow along, compliant as ever. He leads you to an elevator where the two of you get in and he clicks whatever floor he'd decided he had work on. You think everything is relatively normal until, with a wave of his hand, the elevator stops.

“What did he mean?” The question confuses you.

“...about what?” You ask, unsure what he was getting at. He turns to you.

“About your ‘fall from grace', what was he getting at?” the realization dawns on you the same way acid would drip into an old wound. There was really only one thing that could mean and the fact that a man you'd never met knew enough to mention it made you sick to your stomach.

“Kid?” He calls to you and it's only then you notice tears build in your eyes. You quickly blink them away before making sure to avoid looking in his general direction.

“I…don't know” you tried, very unconvincingly, to feign ignorance. Unfortunately that didn't go over well with him.

“I don't think I've met a worse liar in the entirety of Hell than you” he states plainly and you can't help but agree. You hadn't really ever had practice in the field. Yet even with his call on your bullshit you chose to stay silent.

“Look, If Val knows then chances are I'm finding out anyway. He's not exactly great at keeping his mouth shut” he tries to convince an answer out of you but his words only make it worse. You didn't want that creep to know in the first place! But, being ever so horrible at keeping such a cold front up, you break under his gaze.

“It’s why I'm in Hell” you start off vague and you notice how he leans in just a bit closer.

“Seriously? That's what's got you upset? What, was it embarrassing? Because believe me, I'm sure I've heard worse” he was really trying to sell you that notion, what with the wide smile and undivided attention, but you couldn't help the nagging voice that told you he wouldn't believe you.

But still, you assumed it better he heard it from you than Val. After all, you and Vox were pretty close at this point. If there was anyone that you'd tell, it would be him.

“No it's- well it is embarrassing, but-” you stammer a moment, trying to find the right way to say it. Soon enough you fix your eyes on the metal doors and just spill.

“I had an uncle. I lived with him for a while, most of my human life really. And he uh…I was just a kid at the time and he- he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Just kept…touching me. For years” the way the information pours out of you is forced. Like you have to pry it from your own mind and shove it out your throat. But there was no point stopping now.

“And then I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't even really know what happened. One second I was cooking dinner and the next he came behind me and…and then everything was bloody and…” you trail for a moment, your mind brought back to that horrific memory. Without a thought you finally turn to Vox.

He looks completely deflated, stripped of that egocentric smile of his and leaving nothing but a shocked still expression in its place. His mouth hangs slightly open as if to say something, but no words come. You feel your tears sting your eyes at the sight.

“No one believed me when I told them what he was doing, no one believed me when I told them for how long. So I knew when I killed him it would just be the same. That they'd make him a martyr and I'd be the villain and- and I couldn't deal with that! I- I didn't want to live through that again!” your voice raises at the end, voice pleading to be listened to, to be believed. Fuck, even just heard.

You get what you ask for with his stunned silence and tense posture. After a moment though you can't help but feel like you want to take your words back, his silence disturbing you greatly.

Just as you're about to ask him to forget what he'd heard, to pretend like you hadn't ever said anything and move on like normal, his hands reach slowly for you. The movement confuses you so greatly that you don't even think to stop him when he silently pulls you into him. You stand rigid for a long moment before, bit by bit, melting into sobs. He holds you tighter in the silence of the elevator and you can't help but grip onto him like your afterlife depended on it.

It's after this that Vox becomes fiercely protective of you. It's incredibly strange for everyone, including yourself. He is adamant that it's just because you know so much about his company, that it's all purely business. But when you think back to that day in the elevator you can't help but believe that he might just actually care about you.

[octaneink]

Crescendo

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Next part: Accelerando Summary : Will has a new neighbour Warnings : none Notes : I have a part 2!

In the bustling heart of London, nestled between the towering beige buildings and the cobblestone streets, was a peculiar flat. It was peculiar, not in the way you might think. It was a typical London flat, rectangular, aged, with big rectangular windows. It was peculiar because of its inhabitants, a young woman whose days were filled with a rhythm that seemed to resonate through the very walls. Every morning, the thumping bass heavy of reggaetón echoed down the narrow alleyways as she revved up her engine and pulled away from the curb. Her car was a vibrant splash of colour in a sea of monochrome vehicles, the music spilling out like a siren's call to the city's early risers.

And its other inhabitant, Will. He had rarely been home the past few weeks, having to spend time in his office to work with video ideas with the lads, and the last few days he had been outside the country filming for a video. But he was used to the hectic schedule. Will was no stranger to late nights and early mornings, his own schedule dictated by the whims of content creation.

So it was a surprise, on the first night back, — it was not really night. He had landed in the UK at 4 am and had only gone through baggage collection an hour later, managing to get an Uber drop him off outside the flat around 6 am — that he saw a bright yellow Miata roared to life and peeled away, the surrounding air vibrated as it drove past him.

After that first morning, Will noticed the pattern start. Each time the music started, he felt the walls of his flat vibrate slightly, a gentle reminder that the world outside his window was waking up. Or at least his elusive neighbour was.

The pattern was this, at around 6 am, he would hear the muffled heavy base, some mornings he'd pick up words when he was closer to the windows in his front room. Though he didn't understand it one bit. At the time, he made the mental note to ask James if he would know what the words meant. Then in the evening around 5:30 pm he’d hear the beat grow in volume the closer the car got, then silence as they cut the keys, a loud car door slamming, and lastly, the beep to indicate their car locked.

The curiosity grew stronger, Will found himself one day setting his alarm earlier to catch a glimpse of the driver. He'd make a cup of tea, the kind that could be brewed quickly and enjoyed just as fast, so he didn't miss the moment.

He didn't catch them, unfortunately. 

Then one day, the pattern changed. 

He woke as he normally did, made his morning tea, sat on the sofa mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Something was different today. Looking at the time on his phone, 6:30 am, then outside through the blinds. The little yellow Miata sat parked in its usual spot, instead of the empty parking space that should be at this time of day. 

Will’s brows furrowed, but he had no time to wonder the reason at the moment, so he got ready and left his flat. With his hand on the door knob, he locked the door of his flat. Footsteps came from his left and slowed as it got closer to him, “Mornin’.” a female voice called out. 

Turning, he saw a stranger. She was shorter than him, wearing an oversized hoodie, baggy jeans, and a pair of white Club C 85. Blinking in surprised, he took a deep breath in shock, and smelt coconut. “Good morning.” Will greeted back.

“I’m your new neighbour. I live in the next flat,” she held her hand out and introduced herself. Will smiled and said, “I’m Will.” she smiled back, replying “I’ve been excited to meet people, but I’ve not seen other neighbours in the flat yet, only heard them.” 

She continued to walk towards the exit, Will followed after her, nodding. “Yea, tell me about it. There's some bloke nearby that's been playing loud music out their car every morning and evening.”

They had got to the door by that point, and she opened the door for him, motioning for him to move through first, he nodded his head in thanks and said “Oh really? I can't say I’ve heard it.” 

He shrugged “They must’ve decided they’d have a lie in today.” he looked at the time on his phone and told her “Listen, it was nice to meet you,” he said her name “but I’ve got to head to work. I’ll see you around, love.” 

Will heard her reply as he walked off. Just as he put on his headphones, he heard the noise he’d been hearing every day for the past month that signalled the Miata being unlocked. He whipped around, mouth agog, his eyes widening when he saw the girl he’d just met climb into the car. 

Then the realisation hit him. She was the mysterious neighbour whose music had been invading his mornings and evenings, and he had no idea she'd been living right next to him.

He gulped, and watched her drive off.

What do we think of this part 1?

[vicsnook]

Surprise! | Bob Floyd x Reader

word count: 1248

warnings: warnings: Smut, 18+, unprotected p in v, oral fem receiving

notes: Hey Besties!! Hope everyone is doing well. As we all know I am a Bob girlie at heart and even though I clearly was consumed by Hangman for a bit, I found my way back home hehe. Hope you enjoy this, it was not proof read and it is basically pure filth 😏. Don’t forget to like and reblog please 🫶🏼

I take one last look in the mirror and smirk at my reflection. The tight black dress hugs my every curve and the red bottoms Bob got me last Christmas pair perfectly. Grabbing my clutch, I feel the excitement set in.

The drive to the base feels unbearably long and I seem to catch every red light. I can’t help but rub my thighs together in exasperation, I need to get there before he leaves his office.

I walk as fast as the heels allow me into the building where my husband’s office is and immediately feel the stares. They know me as the shy wife of the admiral who brings baked goods for the office once a month. They’ve never seen this side of me.

“Mrs. Floyd! What a wonderful surprise!” says my husband's secretary once I reach their floor and I take notice of her purse already on the desk. The clock behind her changes to 5 and I know I’ve made it just in time.

“Hey Kathy, is my husband in his office?” I smile, hoping she says what I want to hear. She cranes her neck to look at the hallway beside me and I feel giddy inside with anticipation.

“He’s still in a meeting in the conference room, want me to let him know you’re here?” I shake my head. “I’ll just surprise him, go on home girl, I’ll tell him you checked me in.”

She thanks me then waves me goodbye from the elevator and once the doors shut I make my way into my husband’s office. I close all the blinds and set my purse in the chair in front of the desk then round it and sit on his leather office chair.

I let my head fall back and reminisce about the times before my husband got his promotion and he’d sneak me into the academy dorms for a not so quickie. Then I hear him down the hall and I nearly jump out the chair.

His hand is on the doorknob and my heart is pounding so fast I fear it might give me away and then there he is. A smile lights up his face as soon as he spots me and he’s quick to shut the door behind me.

“Surprise,” I say in my most sultry voice and I can see immediately the way those baby blue eyes darken with desire. He rounds the desk and I stand in front of him, placing my hands on his chest. “A surprise indeed,” he whispers against my ear and I shiver as his lips meet my neck.

I throw my head back as he kisses my neck but he’s quick to place his hand on the back of it to make my lips meet his and I melt against him. His hands trail across my body and I moan against his lips which elicits a grin from him.

His hands meet the back of my thighs and he lifts me onto the desk and I stifle a chuckle at the sound of papers falling to the ground. At this moment nothing else matters but us.

He pulls away and I look at him through half lidded eyes and notice his hair is messy from where I tugged on it and his jacket is now wrinkly. “To what do I owe the occasion?” He murmurs as he grabs my arm and kisses my wrist and my eyes meet his.

“What, a girl can’t miss her husband?” I say, looking at him defiantly to which he cocks an eyebrow at me. He’s not used to me being dominant, that’s for sure.

I run the tip of my heel up the side of his dress pants and maintain eye contact, only looking down at his lips when I reach his erection. “On your knees, Admiral.”

Bob looks shocked but as the good boy he always is, he complies and I bend forward and place a kiss on those plump lips of his. His eyes never leave mine as I scoot to the edge of the desk and lift my dress up to my waist.

His eyes widen as he takes in the lack of underwear and his palms are holding the side of my legs as he pulls himself closer to me and throws my legs over his shoulders. “Mine,” he whispers and then his mouth meets my core and I moan almost animalistically as he sucks on my clit.

He groans against me as I tug his hair and then tip my head back as he slides a finger inside me. “So fucking wet for me,” he says and I arch my back as he slides in another one. My body is tingling all over and I feel myself get closer as he relentlessly fucks me with his fingers.

“Bo-bby pl-ease, " I manage to say as he licks a strip up my pussy and I come undone as he continues to finger me, his eyes on me as I start to come down from my orgasm.

“Be a good girl and turn around,” he says, his voice husky with desire as I take his hand and turn around, my legs still shaking. His hand is on the back of my neck and he pushes aside my hair, placing a kiss on my shoulder, and then he’s bending me over the desk. I shiver in excitement as I hear his zipper come down and then I gasp as I feel his tip in my entrance.

But I don’t even have time to react as he pushes himself inside me fully and then pulls out and starts over, setting a pace that is almost criminal. The sound of his curses,my moans, and our skin slapping together fill his office and I feel myself get even wetter if that’s even possible.

He slaps my ass and I yelp in pleasure and he slows down enough we can catch our breaths. “Fuck honey,” he mutters against the back of my neck and I can feel his chest rising against my back. His hand pulls mine to my clit and I try to match his pace as my legs threaten to give out from under me. “I-I can’t,” I stammer and he murmurs “I got you, baby,” in my ear as he takes over and speeds up the pace.

I feel my orgasm getting closer and closer and my knuckles are white from holding on to the desk and finally I let it take over me. Bending down more and resting my head on the cool surface of the desk as I let my release wash over me. “I’m almost there, darling” Bob whispers but my loud moans drown him out. It feels too good.

And then he’s coming in me and slowing down, kissing my back over the fabric and running his hands up and down my arms slowly.

I lift up my head and pass him some tissues from the now messy desk and he withdraws from me slowly which feels like torture, then he’s cleaning me up,and pulling down my dress.

I turn around and meet those gorgeous blue eyes and kiss him until we can’t breathe. How lucky am I, for this wonderful husband. Pulling away, his forehead rests against mine and he whispers “You should miss me more often.” and I chuckle playfully, slapping his chest then letting him lead me out, knowing more awaits once we make it home.

[earth2steve]

would love some eddie fluff! currentlydaydreaming about being his passenger princess

warnings: fluff! suggestive content. fem reader. 650 words

a/n: please talk to me/send requests anytime i am a chronic yapper!! thank u for reading <33

“you can get ink poisoning from this stuff, y’know. it like, seeps into your bloodstream. i could be dying.”

your arm, hanging out the passenger window of eddie’s van, is branded from wrist to elbow in sharpie doodles of spiders and dead flowers.

sparing you a glance from where his gaze is settled on the road ahead, eddie rolls his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head. “yeah, and sitting too close to the tv makes you blind. relax, sweetheart.” 

he’s got one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, kneading and prodding at your skin with ringed fingers. sometimes he'll drum along to a song on the radio or on loop in his head - today he just squeezes.

“i’m serious, you douchebag.”

“so am i. there’s no way thats gonna give you ink poisoning in one go. plus, you’re not allowed to die before me.”

you already have a retort bubbling beneath the surface, something about having poison control on speed dial, but sometimes its nicer just to let him talk. especially when he's so nice to look at. you can tell today was a hair wash day - it's dried all fluffy in the spring air and the sunlight turns it caramel.

“and i," he pauses, and with the kind of dramatic affectation that seems to come as natural to him as breathing, lifts one hand from the wheel; "am quickly building a habit of cheating death."

your heart swells in your chest. “lucky me."

he smiles at you, blinding, and you have to look away again in an instant. it’s so devastatingly handsome that you feel a little bit sick. 

“aww, honey - you're only saying that cause you just had my tongue down your throat.” 

he punctuates his words with another squeeze of your thigh. he’s right. your mouth still tastes of the dr pepper in his cupholder.

“stop talking shit if you wanna put it anywhere near me again.”

eddie pretends to lose control of the wheel then, voice pitching up two octaves as his steering hand slaps harshly at his chest. “near you? near you? you’re seriously understating my perversions here, sweetheart.”

the van barely wobbles, but your heart nearly falls out of your ass just the same.

"eddie!"

he drops the act a few seconds too late for your liking, smiling gentle and putting his hand back on the wheel. you roll your eyes and hide a smile into your lap.

“idiot. are we going out or staying in tonight?”

he thinks about it for not longer than a few seconds, sighing low and even. “whatever you like, angel. got a microwave lasagna with your pretty name all over it, if that'll sway your decision."

a little hum of satisfaction bubbles up from your chest and fills the air between you. eddie smiles at the sound like he’s just won an oscar. you want him to look at you like that forever.

“sure. just -uh, you’re sure you don’t mind being cooped up again? i know you haven't seen the guys in a while-”

eddie’s hand on your thigh squeezes tight around your flesh. the skull on his index finger brushes a lovely spot where the seam of your jeans usually indents.

“never. 's a crucial part of my mystique. 'where’s munson fucked off to?' nobody knows.”

he does a ridiculous little hand gesture as he speaks. it makes you want to pull over and kiss him silly. 

instead you settle for lifting his hand on your leg and biting the top of his hand affectionately. 

eddie sighs all dreamy like a disney princess, eyes flicking from the road momentarily to watch your teeth sink into his skin. 

“god you’re weird. i’m obsessed with you.”

your whole body lights up from within.

"good. take me home, and then we can circle back to those perversions."

"yes m'aam."

[thenightshadowqueen]

The best character from each longform

(in my biased opinion)

This is (obviously) a long one, so if you do want to read it, more below.

(Also I left out the Patreon plays. I might do a separate post for them later; we’ll see.)

Jimmy (Tom, Toby’s Secret Pocket)

Look, Jimmy is the best. He’s adorable. He’s the representation we as the autistic community needed. He has happy flappy stimmy hands. He can’t walk through doors. We love him. (STOPINTHENAMEOFTHELAW!!!!!)

André Beetroot (AJ, Burglary and Bobsledding)

André Beetroot (André Beetroot) was iconic the first time around, but his return as the first recurring SFTH character obviously had to be memorialised.

The boy witch (Sam, Moist and Magical)

I was tempted by the witchfinder general, but the boy witch won out with “Henry Cavill with a wasting disease” and his thick accent. Also the cheeky little look he gives his grandma (Luke) when he flips her off wins him a lot of points.

Hugh’s mum (Tom, Marigolds Bluebells and Hugh)

She’s, like, a fair bit unhinged, but she has good intentions. She’s got amazing quotes, too; “why couldn’t you have just stayed in my womb forever” and “if you love something, lock it up” are both deeply concerning, but I love them.

The wife (Tom, Murders in Space)

This one is kind of an obvious choice. I mean, her quotes are glorious, and honestly “have you ever heard of feminism, James?” gets her top spot automatically.

Mario the sheep (Sam, the Lighthouse)

Was this even a question? I love Mario intending to be a one-scene character and then being forced to star in the whole play. I love the human bits. I love “🐑fuck you🐑”. I love the sheep (aka Sam) having a fucking breakdown at the end. 10/10 all around.

Titch (Luke, the Unrelenting Aubergine)

Listen, I was very tempted by Old Lady Margery (and by Derek), but in the end, canon queer guy with commitment issues and insane amounts of blindness around his own feelings won out. What can I say, I have a type in fictional characters.

Troll Son (Luke, Wine Under the Bridge)

Everything about this character is perfect. Screaming as hello? Colourful troll as a metaphor for being queer? Correcting a geography fact? It’s got it all. It’s perfect. I love Troll Son and his wine bar in Ipswich.

Juliet (AJ, Caesar and Juliet)

Is anyone surprised? She’s a murderous girlboss. “[My mother] said you have to be careful about men; they can be corrupted with power. But what she didn’t know is that so can woman.” They can, and I’m here for it. She’s bathing in blood and her skin is glowing. I love insane women.

Watson (Sam, the Mystery of the Midnight Circus)

Watson, driven mad with grief over his divorce and his one-sided love for Sherlock, becomes a murderous clown. Am I supposed to not love this? Is there even another choice in this play? And his breakdown at the end was gorgeous.

Priscilla (AJ, Pricilla’s Final Petal)

I was very tempted by both of her mums, and also a bit by the groundsman, but ultimately, Priscilla won out. She’s the title character. She’s confused, but she’s got the spirit, and she’s working through her trauma with a buttercup and a piano lesson. Good for her.

Marty (Sam, the Evil Make-a-Wish Kid)

I considered the seven-year-old detective, but in the end, Marty won. He’s evil. He’s a make-a-wish kid. What more can I say? He’s got an iconic smirk. He burns down all the petting zoos on the entire planet (and his mum). He dies at the end. He’s brilliant.

Derek (Tom, Susan’s Holiday)

There were a lot of great options in this one, but “I like looking at the back of another man’s head” was too good to pass up. Also, I adore the whole monologue he has while he’s waiting to be buzzed in.

The gasoline salesman (Luke, Beetroots and Murder)

Okay, I know he’s only in, like, a quarter of a scene. I know that. And I can’t tell you why I love him so much but I do. He’s just. I just love him. I can’t explain it. There are so many great characters in this play, but the way he says “could be, could be” has captivated me. If you understand the way my brain works, please contact me, because I don’t.

Peter Steven (Tom, the Milkman)

I love so many characters in this play. I love Gareth, and I love the Texan bartender, and I love David the milkman. But Peter Steven is the sweetest, most traumatised little boy and I want to protect him. I will adopt him and I will never make him walk on his knees again. I will throw away the PS5 and I will let him dig up the back garden as many times as he wants.

Johnny and Janae (Luke and Tom, the Neighbour’s Under the Bed)

I know they’re two separate characters, okay, but they’re a set. I want to keep them together. And I just can’t choose, okay? They’re two autistic children whose neurodivergence presents in opposite ways, and their parents don’t know what to do with them, and oh look, I’m back to wanting to adopt traumatised children.

Captain Egbert (Luke, the Leftenmost Window)

Shoutout to the mum, but Egbert won this one. He’s, like, kind of an idiot. I’m here for it, though. He’s got the iconic “diluileayilybilyeilysilym” speech. He wants to go to the ~astral plane~ but he’s waiting for his birthday. He lets his wife dip him into a kiss even though it’s 1940. I love him.

The king (Sam, the Prime Minister’s First Day)

Listen, I love several characters from this one, but I’m going with this one. He’s unapologetically a dick. He wears impenetrable armour made from diamonds stolen from Indian subculture. He’s impossible to beat. He’s brilliant. (Also did anyone else kind of find Sam hot as the king or is that just me?)

Franz Haberburg (Sam, the Excited Chinchilla)

Obviously fuck Nazis (god I hope that’s obvious). That being said, some of SFTH’s best characters are Nazis, and this is one of them. He’s glorious. I have never seen such a brilliant rendition of a Nazi chinchilla.

The Italian detective (Tom, the Ingredients)

He can’t pronounce paella. Do I need another reason?

Chip (Sam/AJ, the Cardboard Stegosaurus)

Oh look, another traumatised child! I want it. (No, but seriously, I love Chip and his English/French seizures.) Also he’s one of the few characters who switches actors mid-play, and I love that.

Persephone (Tom, Wild Wet and Worrisome)

She’s amazing. “HEY!” is a gorgeous siren call and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. She deserved a happy ending and I’m still sad we didn’t get one. I like to think she swam to the shore and found Geoff again, and they lived happily ever after on a boat at sea, singing and not having to kill anyone.

Full Set O’Hands and his love/bother (Luke and Tom, No! I Always Loved that Caravan)

I know, I know, another set of characters, but you really can’t separate these two. They’re insane. I adore them. They’re just… Honestly, these two are comedy gold. Good for them because they are fucking timeless.

Andrew (Luke, All Eyes on Nigel)

Listen, Andrew is a naive little thing, and he must be protected at all costs. He goes through so much shit in this one, and I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and send him to rehab.

Magnus O. Puss (Tom, BUS)

Okay, this was a VERY close one between them and Arthur B. D., but Magnus is a genderqueer icon and we love them for it. Also, I feel like this is some of the most unhinged Tom content we have and I live for that.

Jeremiah (Luke, Inside the Mysterious Cube)

I was so torn because I love Bubba, too, but I’m trying to avoid putting sets of characters where possible, and Jeremiah just edged past Bubba because his death scene was gorgeous. (That is a mildly concerning reason to have a favourite, I will admit.)

Lord Lafayette (Tom, the Midnight Mystery)

You may be noticing a pattern; I adore Tom’s insane characters. We just don’t get to see that often enough. I love his very sexual flirting with Lady Lafayette (Sam). I love him making fun of the detective’s (Luke’s) shirt. I love “what does any self-respecting rich man do when he has a little boy in tights” followed by “captured—and only captured” as a save. I love him.

Dangerfield (AJ/Tom/AJ again, Once Upon a Time I Killed Mum)

I love the confusion when Tom briefly takes over as Dangerfield; it’s not often we get to see AJ understanding something that Sam doesn’t (I say this with all the love in the world). Dangerfield is so fascinating to me. He’s a “cleaner” for a crime lord, but he has mixed feelings about the things he does. I want to know how he got into it in the first place. How did he come into this life? I want to know.

Barry’s wife (AJ, the Hare who Wore a Sweater)

I don’t remember her having a name, but I could be wrong about that. She’s so sweet; she just wants to knit sweaters for the hares in peace. And then Jimmy the hare gets shot, and she and her husband go on a revenge plot. I’m here for it. I love her.

The king/tank commander (AJ, the Oopsie Daisy Bulge)

He’s obsessed with tanks. He used to have gay sex with his fellow tank commanders, but only as a joke. He sailed all the way around, through the other landlocked counties, into the east of France, and they never saw it coming. He drove tanks into the ocean. He’s so stupid he’s almost smart. I love him.

The landowner/farmer (Luke, Too Big to Be a Jockey)

He farms peasants (Luke, you genius). He’s such a dick, with his classist remarks about Johnny Jones, but somehow I love him anyway. His interview process is looking at a photo of someone and then hiring them, and he’s honestly wonderful. I love him.

Larry (Tom, Long Johns—Strike!)

Literally the only thing he does on screen is die. That’s it. That’s his whole purpose. And he does it beautifully.

Wizard Asceroth (Sam, the Dark Moons of Slough)

ASCEROOOOTTTHHHH!!! (I don’t have another reason. I don’t need another reason.)

The French waiter (Luke, Lost in Your Eyes)

I don’t know. I really don’t. But something about this character has stuck with me since the first time I watched it. Gorgeous accent. He kisses Amanda (Sam) for no reason at all. He gets stabbed by a gun. I love him.

The Lady of a Thousand Don Juans (Luke, the Meringue Haberdashery)

She tricked her husband for years. She murdered her own child. She has been a curse on all the Don Juans in this town. She’s one of the only villains who win at the end of a longform, and that’s very impressive. I love her.

Xavier (Tom, Oh my God is This a Joke?)

(Please refer to my previous statement about Nazi characters.) Okay, look. He’s a horrible person. But we as a fandom choose to disregard that because Tom looks amazing in a leather jacket and scarf. I am not above this. I am, in fact, a part of this. Tom looks amazing in a leather jacket and scarf. “I will die as I have lived…. Shirtless!” has to be one of the most iconic lines of all time. There was never any competition.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Temporary Fix. || cheater!Johnny

Rating: E + TABOO Words: 5K with the bonus (this one got away from me, I'm sorry) CW: cheating (on Johnny's part, Reader doesn't know), smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who cheats on his girlfriend, unbeknowst to reader. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @/☠️ anon, who motivated this with a DM of hers (spot the DM at the bottom of the post).

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

Even those who have a family, a wife, a partner of any kind, waiting for them at home do it. It’s an open secret. Your buddy might be cheating on his wife… And you might know your friend’s wife, hell, your wife might be great friends with his wife. But you’ll never tell her. All things considered, she might already know and be turning a blind eye.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time, fighting in a way that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection on the side.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish has a bird at home. He does. He really does. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he cheats on her as often as he breathes.

He goes on and on about his bird every chance he gets, has phone and video calls with her whenever he has the time, coos at her as she talks about her day, tells her how much he misses her…

Only to end the call and leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A dog, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player, a cheater.

He’s not above calling himself that. He knows it’s wrong. That doesn’t mean he’s stopping. Hell, that doesn’t mean he even feels guilty. He doesn’t.

It’s not that his girl back home is bad in bed, or boring, or that he feels trapped or… It’s simply that he has an itch that he wants scratched… 

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along. 

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, he’s not got a partner at home, so he can do all of this with a clear conscience. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has someone at home, and he still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care. 

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music. 

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to. 

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks. 

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you. 

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk. 

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get. 

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple. 

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes… 

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do. 

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

Bonus:

cw: phone infidelity (Johnny's gf calls Johnny while he's fucking reader), lying, cheating, and reader is also not a good person.

It’s the dawn of your last day in Cartagena. And, as promised, Johnny has come to see you for the last four nights, fucking you well into the early hours of the morning, before disappearing while you sleep it off in the morning.

Your friends have been so excited for you this whole time, making you tell and retell all your sexual escapades with him, as you sightsee, go to the beach, go shopping, go out for lunch and dinner…

Meanwhile, Gaz already knows of what Soap's been up to... as do Price and Ghost. Kinda hard to miss the way he disappears every night and comes back every morning, with a smug smile on his lips and the signature walk of someone that just got laid. Ghost even took to calling Johnny 'the town bicycle'™️ every morning, not that Soap minds it.

And you definitely should be sleeping… It’s about to be 6 A.M. after all, your flight due to departing at 1 P.M., your bag already packed in the corner other for the dress Johnny stripped off you when he arrived, and the clothes you prepped for the flight. 

But it’s your last night here. Your last night with this British man - Scottish you recently found out - you’ll never see again. How could you spend it any other way other than getting your guts rearranged and your thighs so sore that you’ll undoubtedly be wobbling past airport security and into your flight?

Just as he’s rutting desperately against you, murmuring about how good you feel underneath him, eyes locked on the way your breasts and stomach jiggle with each furious thrust of his hips, a phone’s ringtone comes from somewhere on the floor.

It’s a cheerful little tune, one that immediately makes his face harden into a grimace. “Fuck.” Johnny grunts atop you. “Don’t move. Don’t move…” He tells you before he rushes off to find his phone. 

You assume it’s work. After all, he sun is already rising in the horizon. Isn’t that when work tends to start for soldiers? You find the idea of it dreadful, waking up so early, to work out?

But the realization washes over you when his voice becomes affectionate and sweet, calling whoever is on the other side ‘baby’. Johnny presses the phone to his ear, before rushing back onto the bed, slotting himself between your thighs. 

Before you can say anything, maybe protest at what he’s doing, he’s back inside you, one of his palms clamping over your mouth as he throws his hips against yours.

“I just got up actually… Am at the gym.” Johnny lies as he pounds into you, a great excuse as to what he sounds out of breath. “Oh yeah… hip thrusts, love.” He continues speaking, his eyes locked onto you.

“Mhm… Definitely…” He grunts out. “Let me put you on speaker so I can keep going.” He adds and quickly does so, setting the phone next to your head on the bed.

“I miss you, Johnny…” A woman’s voice, sugary sweet and soft, comes from the speakers, right next to your ear. An accent similar to his, but less rugged, a bit more polished. 

“I know, love… Miss you too…” Johnny says above you, eyes locked on yours as he grunts a bit and presses his hips harder into yours. “Can’t wait to finish here and go back to you…”

You don’t know what it is… You should be disgusted. You should be bucking him off, yelling at him, exposing him to this girlfriend as a cheater… But the way he looks at you, the way his cock throbs inside you, the way this feels, so forbidden and wrong… You can’t help but like it.

“What are you up to now, baby?” Johnny asks as he continues rutting against you, eyes lowering to watch the way your cunt swallows his fat cock.

“I’m about to have lunch, that’s why I called early, going with Anna and Delilah for work, just wanted to say a quick hello!” Johnny’s girlfriend says.

Johnny grunts when your walls flutter around him, tightening around him, a sign you were close to your limit. “Oh… fuck…” He grumbles and pants. 

“You okay, love?” Johnny’s girlfriend asks, concerned, when she hears the way he sounds. “You’re not injuring yourself, are you? Am I distracting you?”

“No, no, baby…” Johnny grunts. “I just… love you so much!” He tells her, his face screwed into an expression of pure delight, eyes rolling a bit and eyelids fluttering as he feels you continue to squeeze around you. “Yeah… I love you and miss you… so… so much… God…”

“I miss you too, Johnny!” She says, naively, as her boyfriend lets out a grunt under his breath and comes inside of you, blowing a load inside the condom as he rests his head against your chest.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Mystery of love

Previously / Next chapter

a/n: couldn’t stay away from these two…

warning: anxiety attacks, smoking, toxic exs.

summary: when two lost souls meet at their mutual friend’s party sparks fly, the question is if whatever they feel can actually bloom into something more? But that’s the mystery of love.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had gotten better. It was better for a while before it all tumbled down. Noah didn’t know what exactly started it. And even more so his sleepless nights made him feel stupid. He had gotten the hang of controlling his thoughts and now it seemed that everything was for nothing. He woke with a flinch ready to face the odd hours of night only to be met with the rays of sunshine peeping through the blinds. Noah’s heart was hammering, cutting off any other sound. One thing he was sure of, though. He wasn’t in his room. And it wasn’t his drenched sheets that he gripped as he woke. No, it was you. His hands had gripped onto your body.

And now your worried sleepy eyes were looking at him. Noah quickly pushed back. Pulling his body from beneath you. Mind going two hundred miles per hour. “Noah”, your voice pierced the static but he simply shook his head moving to stand up. You watched him moving towards the bathroom ,the doors clicking shut. The bigger part of you, the one that always fixed things, screamed for you to go after him. Make sure he is okay, and do something to help. But you knew how vulnerable breaking down was. How getting smothered only made it worse. So you let him do his thing, trusting him to pull himself out. Even if no one deserved to hurt alone.

When Noah finally slipped out of the bathroom face still damp from the cold water he had drowsed himself in. He was ready to be met with questions but instead, he found you humming as you waited for the water to boil, two cups waiting to be filled in front of you. It made him feel this weird sense of domestic security. It was easy and calm and when you turned to him, a slight smile on your face he felt strangely seen but for the first time not made a spectacle of.

“Camomile and mint”, you mussed, “And waffles are warming up”, “I’ll be in a huge depth to you if you keep this up”, Noah muttered, voice horse from sleep still. His mind pulled him back to the fact that he had slept through the whole night, only in the morning did his brain catch up with him. “Don’t mention it”, you waved it off, “I’m off work today, you got any plans?”, you looked over your shoulder as you buttered the waffles. “Should go to the studio but I don’t know if I can”, the words slipped out of Noah’s mouth before he could even register them.

“Do you want to come?”, he quickly added, “I know you don’t like…”,’ “If I can read while you do your thing, I’m in”, you cut his rant off, trying to defuse the rising tension in his body. “You would come?”, he asked slightly surprised. “There are too many comes in your sentences for eight am, I will join you if you want the company”, you shrugged, Noah snickered slightly, “I’m trying to manifest future events”, he smirked making you glare at him, “Every time I begin to think you can make it without… eh doesn’t matter”, you shake your head. Security feeling a sense of ease that he had jumped back into a somewhat his usual self.

But that shattered the moment you two sat in the car, you could tell from the way his jaw was set that his mind was already in his studio. And whatever that was waiting for him there was eating at him. “Who does the food shop in the house?”, you pulled the question right out of your ass, needing about anything to distract him. “Ah, well we just do it at random”, Noah shrugged. “And when was the last time?”, you glanced at him, watching him concentrate as he reversed out of his parking spot. “Why don’t we stop by”, you suggested, “We can grab little things, I think Emmy is coming over tonight so you all might want some nibble bits”, it felt slightly too pushy in a way. It was their routine you were messing with it, but for some reason, you were sure that looking at cheese was better than going to the demon that seemed to be Noah’s studio. “Sure, you can lead the way, 'cause I never know what to buy for shit like that”, Noah grunted, making you smile.

He was mindlessly walking next to you, carrying the bag, after you two bickered about that for ten minutes. And while you had called him sexist he simply said that it doesn’t mean that you have to do everything yourself. Now you were happily looking through different crackers. Ones that looked the same to Noah but apparently were extremely different and didn’t go well with everything. And while Noah hated food shopping, it was nice watching you find joy in such a simple task.

That was until you had halted mid-reach, before turning to face him. Your face had gone pale and Noah couldn’t help but frown slightly but before he could ask you what was going on your hands had reached out to him, pushing him backward, “Fuck, fuck, shit”, you muttered beneath your breath.

“Y/n?”, Noah watched as your whole face scrunched up almost in pain at your name being called from behind you. Noah’s eyes darted past your shoulder, at the guy standing there. He was close to both of your age at least that’s how it looked. He was the definition of office plankton. So put together with his white pressed shirt that Noah had to make an effort to not roll his eyes.

“Dan”, you turned to face him, a smile so fake it had to hurt your cheeks. “Grocery store out of all the places, and in a shit cracker section”, Dan mussed stepping closer and making you step back ever so slightly, causing you to press against Noah’s chest. A surge of protectiveness flooded him. It was the way the guy looked at you as if you were nothing but dirty beneath his shoes that made Noah press his palm against your back.

“What a funny coincidence, still doing your morning juice runs I see”, you muttered, trying to keep your head up. Dan chuckled, “Still so hung up on us that you remember my routine, I’m flattered”. On us, all sorts of alarm bells ran out and Noah instantly reached out, putting his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. That was enough to make the asshole pull his gaze from you to Noah instead.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you do”, you mussed, making Noah smirk ever so slightly. Dan hummed bitterly eyes still on Noah, “Enjoying my leftovers, man?” Noah’s fingers tightened around the handle of the bag in his hand, “What the fuck did you just say?”, as he grunted through gritted teeth. Your palm instantly pushed against his chest, “Don’t, it’s not worth it”. But it’s as if you weren’t there cause he still stepped forward. “Warm her up from me before I come for a round two”, Dan chuckled, Noah’s hands shot out before his last breath was even taken but you clasped your wrist around them, stepping between them.

“Fuck you”, you spat at Dan as he walked backward laughing, eyes stinging with the promise of tears and an insane amount of embarrassment. “You never step in front of me like that, do you hear me”, Noah grunted, turning you around by your upper arm, “I could have fucking hit you”. “Well, I’m not letting you get on tomorrow’s headlines because of me”, you hissed, turned away from him once more as the first tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it off as fast as you could.

You heard him sigh before his fingers reached out for you once more, “Come here”, Noah muttered. “Don’t touch me”, you bit back, pulling his hand away but he didn’t let go, “I wasn’t asking”, and within a heartbeat his hand was cupping your cheek as he pulled you closer to his chest. Only then did you realize that you were trembling. Only when you gripped his hoodie did you realize that his heart was beating way slower than yours.

“I’m sorry”, you muttered shaking your head. “The only one who should be sorry is that piece of shit” Noah grunted, his fingers running up and down the back of your neck. “Can we not talk about him or this or… Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”, as much as Noah wanted to argue about it he owned you one for this morning. You had let him do his thing without prodding and pushing. He should let you do the same but his gut was telling him there was so much more here. So many things that might even put you in danger. The thought alone of you running into that dick alone left a sour taste in his mouth. “Let’s pay up and go”, he muttered, eyes still fixed in front of you as if magically Dan would appear and Noah would have a chance to land that right hook right at his perfect nose.

You were thankful for the silence as you drove to his house. Thankful that he lit your cigarette at the red light because your hands were trembling too much. All you had told him in that 25-minute drive was “I don’t smoke, I just need this now, okay?” He didn’t say anything. His eyes were on the road. He didn’t say anything s he opened your side of the door, motioning for you to go ahead. He didn’t even try to match your fake smile as you greeted the two guys, Jolly and Nicholas, who kindly reintroduced themselves to you. You could see them watching Noah though and they could read his mood. Making the whole small talk ten times more awkward.

You felt concrete heavy as you two finally went down to the basement where the at-home studio was located. Noah pulled his hoodie off with one hand so effortlessly that if you weren’t so deep in your head you were convinced you would have crumpled. “And who’s worried about how much you will wound me”, he threw your own words at you, “It’s because of him isn’t it?”. You knew the questions would come. You were just naive enough to believe that he had forgotten it all. “Don’t dissect, Noah, I don’t need you rummaging through my life”, you grunted, throwing your hands up.

“I’m not asking you for details, it’s a yes or no question, love”, he said clearly still annoyed. You watched him. The guy who just randomly fell into your life. One that made you wish for a different life. “Yeah, mostly”, you admitted with a shrug, “Does this change anything?”. He simply nods, “Does Emmy know how he treats you?”, his words made a shiver run down your back as the very last months of your relationship with Dan play out in your mind.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have pushed”, Noah runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry”. You just shake your head, “I would have the same question if I was in your position so… I get it”, you run your fingers over the leather sofa absentmindedly. “I slept through the night for the first time last night”, Noah muttered, making you snap your head back at him. “I was gonna say that for someone who claims he struggles with sleep, you slept like a baby”, you point out, “What keeps you up most nights?” You know that he threw this out as a lifeline. An equalizer. He got a glimpse of your ugly past now he was handing an ugly piece of his own to you.

“Music is fragile”, he plops onto the sofa, “What if one morning I wake up and everyone has moved on from our music?” You step closer, sitting down next to him, “See, I should tell you that that’s a pretty irrational fear but I understand”, you watch him shrug before he turns to face you, “That’s why I can’t seem to make that call about canceling the tour”. You frown slightly, “People won’t forget you just because you’re taking a break for your health”. He lets out a deep sigh, “Tell that to my brain”, he taps a finger against his temple. “Brain, fans won’t forget about Noah”, you say firmly. For a moment he just watches you before letting out a slight chuckle, “I don’t think my brain heard you”. You raise an eyebrow at him, “Well then”, you muse, cupping his face and leaning closer to him, “No one could forget about you”, you whisper against his air. Noah’s hands instantly reach out, wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to him. And when you pull back both of your faces are inches apart. You can feel his breath on your face, and can still smell the hints of his cologne. “Noah…”, his name is barely whispered on your lips but it seems to snap him out of his daze, his lips press against your forehead instead, and then he pulls you into his embrace and you find yourself ever so slightly disappointed and wondering how his lips would feel against yours.

••••••••••

@broken0mens

[hey-august]

Is this what you wanted? | Buggy x afab!Reader

WC: 3k Warnings: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x afab!reader, friends to something, profanity, mentions of alcohol, fingering - reader receiving, vaginal sex, creampie, pls practice safe sex, angst no comfort A/N: Um...I'm sorry. I'm happy with this story, but also so very sorry. Happy Angst August!

Teaser: Buggy placed a hand around your fist, keeping his coat trapped. He tilted his head and raised his brows, a cue for you to continue talking. Instead, you fell into the depths of his eyes. Like you did that night in the rain.

You both knew what this was. A handful of sunny afternoons spent with sandy feet and ice cold beer bottles dripping with condensation. Nights in seedy bars - fingertips salty from snacking on peanuts and empty shells found in your pockets the next morning. An hour or two grabbing a bite to eat, sharing a plate of puffed pastries stuffed with spiced meat, or seeing who can eat a bucket of fried spiraled potatoes the fastest. (Buggy got the furthest before he bit his tongue, shrieked at the horrifically incorrect crunch, and you dropped your food while cackling.)

This was fun and that’s all it was.

Just moments of levity whenever time found you two together. There was nothing more behind the way you hugged Buggy each time you saw him. Or how you’d compliment his new looks and applaud the goofy poses he’d strike. Nothing behind the way his hand would rest on your shoulder or back when you two walked through crowds. Or when you’d grab his sleeve and lead the way. When his hand would rest on your knee. Nothing in the way his eyes held the stars sparkling on the water. Or your laughter in the wind when his ship is at sea.

Sure, there was the one night you two kissed. But it didn’t mean anything. It was raining. There was lightening. And thunder. You two were stuck outside, huddled under Buggy’s heavy coat, which was only getting heavier with each raindrop that it soaked up. The flashes of light were bright. Blinding. And the thunder was loud. And his lips were close.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of them as he talked. The red paint was faded from a night of drinking. Buggy would lick his lips while talking. Drops of rain clung to the stubble on his jaw. His adam’s apple bobbed. And his lips…they were soft and warm against yours. The next flash of lightening shone brightly in his eyes before he returned the kiss. In the rain, while hiding under a coat. And that’s where the moment ended.

They were rare, but the times you spent on Buggy’s ship were some of your favorites. He was loved by his crew and they embraced you by extension. Cheery greetings and invites to have a drink were plentiful. They pulled you into their tricks and dances, told you stories and listened to yours, asked for your help and shared advice. The ship was noisy, it smelled, there was chaos and mess, and it suited your Buggy perfectly.

The moon watched you and the captain in his quarters. Laughing and drinking, like usual. The pirate was showing you a map, a finger rasping as it followed the course set for tomorrow morning. He tapped a spot excitedly, telling you about all the treasures that would belong to him. How the expedition will make him and his crew famous. That you were lucky to know the Great Captain Buggy and the fearsome Buggy Pirates before it all changed. And even luckier, he would bring you back something special.

His volume rose and dropped, uncontrollable with the enthusiasm bubbling through him. The passion and fervor Buggy emanated was captivating. In this moment, he was walking among the stars. And in this moment, you wanted to walk with him.

“I could go with you.”

Buggy paused, then let out a deep belly laugh. He tapped the map again and explained how dangerous the trip would be. His crew was trained and ready and even then, some of them might not make it back. Meanwhile, you could count the number of islands and towns you’ve visited on one hand. On the map, the circumference of your travels was smaller than the bottom of the bottle you two had been sharing.

“Don’t make jokes like that,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye and leaving behind a smudge of eyeliner.

“I’m serious. I want to go with you.” You stared at Buggy, just waiting for him to laugh that beautifully irritating laugh again.

But he didn’t. The lighthearted joy slid away while the smile stayed. The twinkle in his eyes flickered, a weak candle in the darkness overtaking his expression.

“You don’t know what you want.” Buggy spoke slowly, as if you misunderstood yourself. As if he knew better.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Don’t fucking patronize me,” you stormed over to Buggy and grabbed the lapel of his coat, ignoring the giggle that escaped his mouth. “I know what I want.”

“Then tell me.” His voice was low. Teasing. Burrowing into your head.

You stared deep in the pirates eyes, ready to repeat yourself.

“I want…” The words drifted off as nimble shadows pulled at the truth that both of you knew. The real answer. It wasn’t what you wanted, but who.

Buggy placed a hand around your fist, keeping his coat trapped. He tilted his head and raised his brows, a cue for you to continue talking. Instead, you fell into the depths of his eyes. Like you did that night in the rain. You crashed, lips first.

He let you push his coat off, rolling his shoulders until the heavy garment fell. Buggy matched your movements to stay connected and entangled. When you were busy holding him close - hands on either side of his face, sliding to the back of his head, down to feel his chest - his hands busied themselves with buttons and buckles. Then they busied themselves elsewhere.

Your heartbeat increased dramatically, nearly pushing you out of your mind, when Buggy’s fingers dipped beneath your clothes. Biting his bottom lip, you whined. The moment was becoming too full to hold everything. It threatened to split you - mind and body. To force you to pick between thinking and experiencing.

“Too hard,” Buggy snapped, pulling his tender lip from your teeth.

You mumbled an apology. Maybe. It felt like you said something as you pressed your forehead against his stubbled cheek. Despite starting the journey cautiously, one of Buggy’s fingers slipped and slid between your folds and collided with your clit, sending a jolt through your body. Standing on tiptoes, you let out a pitiful moan and leaned into Buggy more. You swayed together, adrift in the waves the ship sat on.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Mmhmm…”

Buggy’s chin was pressed against your head grinding into the acknowledgment you nodded. His body continued to chase and constrain you. The arm wrapped around your back was less of an embrace for affection, but more for desire. He pulled you off balance just enough for him to hold and maneuver you. With a leg wedged in the area between yours, Buggy ignored the space you tried to create by hovering above the pleasure.

With each caress, every drag of his thick fingers against your bundle of nerves, you floated into the stars. Buggy pressed against you, pushing you higher and higher until there wasn’t enough air to breath. Your head was whirling, following the movement of the constellations and the spin of galaxies. You were far, far away. Clinging to Buggy’s shoulders, you clawed your way back into your body and back into his hold.

“N-no, wait,” you choked out.

Buggy’s jaw moved but the words were lost in your messy hair. Sliding a hand down to his elbow, you pushed the pirate’s arm back. The rest of his body followed, leaving an emptiness between your legs and in your chest.

He held up the two fingers that stole some of your heat and rubbed them together before pulling them apart. A strand of wetness bridged the gap, a sticky thread catching shimmers of light. With a wink, Buggy popped his slick-coated fingers in his mouth and nodded in approval.

The captain’s desk was barely a step behind you. Between the furniture and the captain himself, there was hardly enough space to undress. Sitting on the hard wooden edge, you kicked off your heavy shoes with a thud and shimmied out of your pants. Two hands on your hips stopped your next moves.

Buggy hooked his fingers on either side of your cotton panties and slid them down slowly. So fucking slow. The feeling rippled out across your skin, bringing heat and goosebumps. The little bit clinging slick that found it’s way to your thigh was cold.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Buggy said, his eyes following a tangible path from the thin, soaked fabric and up to your wet cunt.

“Because you keep teasing me, you shit!” Your breathless response couldn’t hold onto the intended sharpness. If anything, you were whining. Begging for more.

The hungriness only increased when Buggy finished undoing his pants and let them fall, along with his underwear. His cock sprang forwards and bobbed, finally freed in your presence for the first time.

Sure, some late night rum-fueled talks carried filthy stories. Raunchy comments about past trysts and boastful claims about sex and alcohol, both of which came with daring remarks about what was under everything. Poking at suspected lies and prodding at the truth beneath all the clothes and bravado. Despite the talks and drunken dances, stupid faces while eating hot dogs and sausages, cream-filled pastries and familiar looking fruit, you weren’t ready.

Buggy’s cock was thick and dripping, the shiny head swollen with the audacity he had for commenting on how wet you were. Despite all the precum smeared on the blunt tip, his stupid striped underwear was probably just as wet as yours. What a fucker. You watched his dick twitch, bouncing erratically under it’s own weight while another pearly bead gathered at the slit.

“Oh just say it! You’re too easy to read.”

Buggy’s taunt was accompanied by bringing a hand to the base of his erection. With his thumb and forefinger nestled more in the blue curls than wrapped around his member, Buggy held himself carefully. Little movements let him squeeze and stroke the bottom of the shaft, working out a groan that was just as light.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. The cool color stood out among the hot flush on his face, which was adorned with beads of sweat already collecting near his hairline.

“You’re fucking dripping,” you said. The smile that grew on your face was met with an equally pleased grin from the clown. “You’re making a mess, Buggs.”

Buggy bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “I’m about to.”

Fuck, those three words were more than enough for you to spread your legs like a whore.

The first touch was everything. All the thoughts and feelings that you tried to ignore, that you peered at through closed doors, that brought you onto this damn pirate ship, went up in fire. White hot flames licked at your skin and consumed all the oxygen in the room.

Buggy’s hand trembled, sliding the tip of his dick along your slit and mixing the liquids with a sickeningly wonderful sound. Just as he took his time exposing your wet heat, Buggy took his time lining up. He ignored your little whimpers and gasps, or maybe he couldn’t hear them at all over his own ragged breathing. The way his gaze was hooked on the path his cock was following reminded you of the awe his eyes reflected when looking at a treasure map.

Just then, you wanted nothing more than to lay under all of the attention. It was agonizing. Delicious and painful. Your hands hurt from gripping the edge of the desk. Your ass hurt from hanging off the wood. Your pussy was tender from being swollen and needy for so long. Your chest ached. But all the pleasure meant you didn’t want the pain to stop. Not yet. You wanted the fire to swallow you whole.

Blue eyes found yours through the inferno. They were full of pleading and warning. Buggy’s tip rested against your entrance. Your lips mouthed a silent word, one that both confirmed and begged for what came next. For the connection that your bodies craved.

Buggy swore under his breath as he eased into you. Something about being so wet but incredibly tight. You weren’t sure. All you could think about was the stretch needed to accommodate his girth and the subsequent fullness. You were real fucking full. And you wanted more.

You looked at the man kneading your thighs. His cerulean brows were knitted close and his eyes were shut just as tight. His pink tongue poked out to moisten his lips before retreating so Buggy could clench his jaw. All while his fingers dug into your soft skin, his short painted nails threatening to leave crescent impressions.

“Bug-”

“M’fine,” he croaked. “Gimm- nnh- Give me a m-moment.”

You wanted to. Truly, you wanted to be patient. You had been so patient leading up to this, but as each second stretched in to eternity, you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Move… Please move.”

Buggy finally opened his eyes and were met by yours, which full of tears and longing.

“Fuck,” he whispered desperately as he pulled out. “How does it feel even tighter?”

Although he was talking to himself, your body reacted and Buggy groaned through the contraction.

“Goddamn it, just screw me. Stop fucking around and make a me-”

Your frustrated tirade was cut off by two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. With your mouth pushed open, Buggy pumped moan after moan out of you with the quickening thrust of his hips. It wasn’t fast by any definition, but his nails finally broke the skin on the inside of your left thigh as he tried to hold what he couldn’t.

Spit collected around his fingers. Spit that he smeared on your face when he pulled out his hand and squeezed your chin.

Buggy leaned in.

“Is this what you want?” Each measured word was delivered when his cock was buried deep.

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye and disappeared when it’s fall brought the drop to Buggy’s wet hold.

You nodded. And again, you crashed lips first. Buggy drank your bitter lie, which was sweetened by every sinful sound he fucked from you. In return, you took his heat, his lust, his passion - anything and everything he gave you in this moment. You held it all close, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“M-make a mess for me, okay? Make a mess on my cock,” Buggy panted.

You gave a half nod, stopping to press your forehead against his. Your nose against his. Buggy didn’t pull back, he stayed as you curled tightly and shook. He listened to your shallow breaths and the wet slap of his skin against yours. He bullied his cock into you repeatedly, pushing your limit until it became a new normal. Until your pussy welcomed him deep. Until you dissolved into the flames of ecstasy.

The sounds you made cracked with each throb of Buggy’s impending release. Your walls contracted and fluttered uselessly around the intrusion. The mindless responses were answered in kind by the pirate’s climax.

Buggy’s cock pulsed as it flooded your insides, his hot cum flooding what little area he didn’t already occupy before finding it’s way to the exit. With each slowing thrust, thick creamy drops fell to the floor, and seeped into the cracked wood.

With that, the fire was doused. It was gone. The heat was retreating. You clung to the embers, keeping your legs locked at the ankles. Buggy's soft touch drifted over angry red slivers on your leg before hooking under your knee and easing your tired legs further apart.

Buggy hissed when he pulled back and vacated your body entirely. The mess was undeniable. Cum and pussy juice coated his dick, collecting in the blue curls at the base. Some had found its way down his thigh, slicking down the sparse hair there. His face paint was streaked, ruined from being rubbed, touched, and sweated away. Strands of hair stuck to his face.

And as for you…well, you were entirely fucked up. Your head and heart were jumbled. Rubble and ash. And the little ember you hoped to protect didn’t survive what came next.

Buggy pulled up his underwear and pants, smothering everything under the layers of fabric.

“You should-” He was still out of breath. “You should probably head out now. You- you got what you wanted, so we’re good now.” His voice shook and he took a deep shuddering inhale.

Buggy put a large hand on your leg, his thumb grazing the marks he gave you. After a pause, he patted your thigh and squeezed one final time before leaving the room. He didn’t look back at the person he left exposed, half undressed and dripping on his own desk before closing the door.

Fuck.

The fire was back, but it hurt this time. Worse. Everything was melting and falling apart. You could hardly see through the haze as you pulled on your clothes. You couldn’t even fasten your pants. Your hands were too numb. Or maybe they were shaking. Holding your clothes together with one hand, you carried your shoes in the other. Fuck staying here any longer to put them on.

The door was in the fucking way. Not just because it was a door but because -fuck it. Just fucking fuck.

Your shoes fell from your hand as you struggled to turn the knob. You finally got the door open but those goddamn fucking shoes were in the way. Bending down, the first sob escaped your lips.

With shoes in hand again, you kicked the door open the rest of the way and padded out of the suffocating room. You kept your eyes trained to the floor as you navigated your way off the ship. While you could avoid seeing any of the sideways glances from the crew, you couldn’t tune out the murmurs and chatters. You did your best to ignore hesitant calls and move away from pitying hands.

You didn’t want their reassurances. You didn’t want their pity. You didn’t want any of it.

Because, according to Buggy, you already got what you wanted.

[solargeist]

Okok here it is 1. Cw unreality stuff i guess? Like not being able to tell if you’re hallucinating 2. I know you said they scare each other but uhh they kind of psychologically horror each other it got away from me a bit

Scar figured he was finally going crazy.

It was overdue, really, with how long he had been alone. Stranded on a hostile world, left checking over his shoulder, expecting doom around every corner, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d started seeing things. A flicker of purple, staining his periphery as he moved about his base. It disappeared the moment he whipped around to see it, and faded from view within a few seconds every time that he noticed it, but as the stain stuck for longer and longer just in the very corner of his vision, he started to worry that this might actually be the end of him.

That was dramatic, he thought, over just a flash of purple tucked away in his blind spot, something very likely just a trick of the light. He thought, until he started monologuing to this violet cataract, started feeling the weight of eyes on his back. He’d cook more than he had planned to and leave plates out, disobeying the strict rations he had set for himself (because that was all he had to feed, himself, no one else). He had full conversations with an empty room, holding that violet smudge in the corner of his eye like a match cupped in shaking hands against a howling wind. The plates always ended up empty. He wasn’t sure who ate them. He couldn’t remember.

Time went on. Things got worse. He saw purple even when he wasn’t trying, still fading the moment he tried to pull it from his periphery, but still hiding there, by his cupboards and corners and closets, in every space that he wasn’t looking. He clung to it— sometimes it would leave for hours on end, he didn’t notice the absences before. Now they felt like bleeding out.

It was warm that day, he remembered, that he last spoke to the stain. Not directly to it, of course— moreso at it, or around it, or through it, something like that— but he found himself talking until he was hoarse nowadays and that day was no exception. “I’ve been meaning to replace these curtains,” he informed no one, stroking the sun-soaked fabric of the window between his thumb and forefinger as the shape behind him watched from the countertop. “I used to have boats on my curtains. My brother had spaceships. I was so jealous. It seemed so important then.” He let go of the curtain, letting his hand fall to the side. “I hope he’s okay. My brother. I keep hoping— I think he got off-world in time, before the transporter system broke down. They said on the radio, years ago, they’d come back for us. The scientists, not my brother.” He turned his head just slightly, catching the blurred shape in his vision as it leaned towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a bored shift. “No, the scientists said they’d get emergency transporters in place in a few months, so maybe he caught one of those, him and mom. Then again, the radios went down before the project was done, so. Not sure if they ever went through with it, if they decided we were a lost cause. I’m still here, I guess, just… waiting. For rescue, I think. Hopefully whatever it is I’m waiting for will come soon because I—“

He turned his eyed a degree too far. The shape that had grown so clear and close to him vanished like a candle blown out. He was in his kitchen. He was alone. A cupboard made bare by greedy hands and spiders, something was wrong, something was missing. He didn’t used to feel this bad about being alone, didn’t he? He had been alone before, had it really been this bad?

He figured he was finally going crazy.

Scar didn’t talk to the spot in his peripheral vision after that. He saw it and he looked away. He turned the lights out that night, all of them, hoping desperately that the darkness couldn’t trick him the way the light did. Still, his room illuminated in purple glow. He covered the mirror in the bathroom despite knowing that just behind his reflection lurked something that was not real and was not there. He closed his eyes and saw purple, purple, purple.

Tonight felt different, somehow, like fallen dew rather than ceaseless fog. Scar took a determined breath, not with less energy, but energy more focused. The air, now that he was just above the tree-line, seemed to breathe with him in powerful and controlled movements. The lights were on below him. Normally he wasn’t one to waste power, but he was facing this thing tonight if it killed him, and if it killed him, it wouldn’t really matter if he left the fridge open and the oven preheated. One more deep breath.

He found the spot in his peripheral as easily as breathing. It tried to flicker. He didn’t let it. A fraction of a degree at a time, he dragged his eye towards it, somehow forgetting its small, humanoid shape even as it lingered on in the center of his vision, form held together with spiderwebs and moth wings. Scar’s eyes burned but he didn’t dare blink. He could see them. A short, humanoid shape radiating purple and purple and purple. It was the inverse of blinding, nearly drowned out by its own afterimage, a bruise of light covering what Scar was certain was its face although he had to check a second time to make sure, the memories of what it looked like slipping past him like sand through fingers, vanishing the second he wasn’t actively thinking about it. He stared it straight in its eyes, or, where he thought its eyes should be, or, where he had already been staring and now could not remember why. He spoke, finally, for what he did not realize was the first time in a week.

“You.”

And it responded, in a voice as fragile and momentary as the wind chimes he used to keep on his porch,

“You see me?”

Or did it say, “So you can see me,” or, “I’m sorry,” or, “Was this it? Was this what you wanted? What you waited for, for so long, so very, very long?”

Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe he just imagined it. It had fallen through his fingers. The words were sand.

“Yes,” he answered, not remembering the question.

With a shaking hand he reached towards the bruise in his vision, palm up and terrified.

“You really shouldn’t be able to see me…” the thing muttered (but maybe didn’t), reaching forward with its own hand. Palm down, landing hesitantly on Scar’s. Their hands touched, and with the sound of glass wind chimes and an hourglass breaking in reverse, the haze shattered, reabsorbed into this newly material being like a lizard eating its own shed skin. Scar blinked. The thing, now visible and rememberable as a short, blonde man with two eyes (purple) and, in fact, an entire face typical of a person. The wings were new, though.

He looked down at their hands, still held, and dragged a thumb across the back of the man’s hand, remembering the texture; rough, but not calloused, like he maybe needed some lotion.

“How?” It asked, and this time it stuck in the world, echoing across the roof.

This time Scar didn’t answer. “Who are you?”

The man with wings hesitated. A second too long, and a new voice spoke, from no determinable source.

“Alright, sunrise, that’s enough.”

This voice shot clean through the world, a practiced arrow leaving no entry or exit wound. In fact, Scar was certain no one had spoken at all.

He looked back at the man whose hand he held. He was not there. Had he ever been there?

-🦕

OHH this was fun , i doodled bc the part abt Scar making two meals stuck out to me

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi! Can you make TkDb characters (anyone you like) x Witch! Reader fanfic? So like, how they found out and how they react with that, or you can add something that you see fit! (⁠人⁠⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Hi Anon! I hope you don't mind but I changed this to headcanons so I could write a bit about everyone. If you'd like fanfics about anyone in particular, please let me know! I also had to break this one up into a few different posts separating the characters into their houses but I'll link them all here. I hope you like the headcanons!

Witches and Ghouls - Frostheim Edition

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Jin Kamurai, Thoma Ishibashi, Lucas Errant, Kaito Fuji x gn! Reader

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

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You're a witch! And even though the characters have made deals with demons themselves, they might have some surprising reactions.

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Jin doesn’t put much stock in gossip but it is certainly good for bringing his awareness to possibly true information. So when he heard that you might be a witch, he put in some extra investigation.

And boy was he surprised to find out that this particular rumour was true! He just wasn’t expecting you to actually be a witch.

Honestly, he’s going to be a bit cold around you for a bit, especially if you’ve been together for a while. He sees you keeping this from him as a breach of trust.

Eventually, he will realise that you were keeping it from him for good reason. Once he does this, he’ll accept your witchiness wholeheartedly. He cares about you regardless of whether you’re a witch or not.

Thoma’s pretty observant so it probably wouldn’t take him long to figure out that there’s something different about you.

When he finds out you’re a witch, he’s not super shocked. He had his suspicions after all. Now that he knows for sure, all the little things that happen around you make a lot more sense.

Unlike Jin, Thoma knows why you would hide your witchiness. Until you want to tell people, he’ll happily keep your secret.

He’s also great at helping you cover up any slip ups. Oh the door that’s been stuck for years suddenly opened when you tried it? Must have loosened up since the last person tried it.

I think Lucas wouldn’t find out unless you tell him. He’s quite observant with a lot of things but when it comes to you, he can have a bit of a blind spot.

He’s not going to react well initially. Much like Jin, he sees it as a betrayal of his trust, especially if you have any ways of helping with his investigation into demons.

But he’ll come around quickly and be very apologetic about how he reacted. It’s your business after all, he’s just glad you’re willing to forgive him.

He’ll do his best to make it up to you as well but helping out with any witchy stuff he can. Need ingredients? He’s on it? Got a migraine from pondering the orb? He’ll give you a head rub.

Yeah, Kaito’s going to find out super fast. Surprising everyone, he’ll probably figure it out faster than any of the other ghouls. He’s too focused on you not to notice.

It’s definitely going to freak him out to start with. He’s pacing around in his room torn between staying away from the spooky witch and hanging out with his very attractive partner.

Eventually, the latter wins and he’s back to normal and he’ll be apologetic about his actions. He’s already lucky you like being around him, he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.

You’ve also got a really good bargaining chip if he ever steps out of line. Just remind him of your witchy powers and he’ll very quickly stop whatever he’s doing.

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