#red lights movie

[thevelvetvampyre]

Mental Foreplay- Tom Buckley x Student Reader

Summary: Harbouring a supernatural secret, your professors assistant reveals he’s psychic as the sound of your filthy thoughts towards him pollute his subconscious and distract him from teaching as normally as a clairvoyant can.

Warnings: overall smut + adult content, p in v, oral (f receive), he watches u, he cums fast, mindreading, age gap (reader college aged, he’s like 40), choking, he tries his best to resist, INVOLUNTARY ERECTIONS which frustrate him🙏, he tries to stand on business + movie quotes

Note: stuck in hospital in the 3rd week of meningitis if I had a doc like crane this would be fun but there’s none worthy of sex dreams so this is boring af

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

Holding your head in your palm as you remained uninterested at your professor, Dr. Matheson, explaining some physics trick to hack the system of the psychic frauds she analysed, your eyes slipped to the assistant she had recently brought in to help with her lessons, Mr. Tom Buckley.

He’d usually catch your glance, seemingly to perfectly time when he looks at you in accordance to when you’d think of him or when you’d subconsciously moan, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the tension your imagination had pent up.

Practically on key, your eyes dropped from the boring speech to the man who sat just off center, catching his gaze as his lashes fluttered in embarrassment to being caught focusing on you.

Pulling his eyes away from yours, a grin grew on your face as he shifted uncomfortably, taking mental note of how attractive he looked when he was flustered.

At your thought, a deep blush creeped across his cheeks and his eyebrows cocked.

Unknown to you, Mr.Buckley had a psychic, mind reading secret that let him hear all the thoughts that ran through your head about him, ignoring them the best to his ability as his cock swelled at how filthy you secretly were.

From admiring the way his hair fell around the side of his face to imagining him fucking your dripping cunt over the other students papers on your professors desk, hearing your thoughts never failed to make him stiff and heave at the thought of giving you exactly what you wanted.

It was some kind of mental foreplay to him, rushing home after each lesson to furiously stroke himself while picturing what you’d look like gagging around the base of him, remembering your quiet moans that echoed through his head.

It had been a few weeks since he joined Dr.Matheson, strongly withholding his desire to fill your cunt as he remained distant of you.

A few weeks of teaching and torture, he’d curse himself each and every time his tip pulsed and leaked, angry and frustrated he felt so aroused by your arousal.

The feel of his hot blood filling his veins as he became thicker and harder with each passing thought made him tut and groan at how pathetic he was, cringing at how desperately he needed to, but couldn’t, touch you. He didn’t care for how you were half his age, but the morality of him being so needy for a students pussy made him feel guilty.

When he got the news that Dr.Matheson would take leave for whatever personal reason she needed to, his stomach knotted as he knew you would no longer be avoidable.

Taking the role of your teacher was threatening to him, now unable to hide his throbbing cock as he heard you salivate to the sight of him. As he was to stand in front of the whole room, he mentally prepared for his public display of arousal, tucking his already swollen tip under his belt to even slightly hide his growing erection.

Sitting behind the desk as he sighed, swinging his head back and rolling his eyes at how painfully hard he’s already gotten, he waited for the students to fill the room and felt his groin twitch in anticipation.

~~~~~~~

“The setting is important… keep it dark. Always.”

Mr.Buckley was pacing around the front of the room, lecturing how frauds scammed their customers into believing the supernatural.

His eyes scanned and passed you and as they did, a high pitched ringing filled his left ear, wincing at the pain and squeezing his eyes shut.

You held the tip of your pen in between your lips, nibbling at it slightly as you pictured him tearing you into two over your desk right then and there for the whole class to see.

Bringing his finger up and pressing it against his ear, he received the mental download of your thought and felt the warm blood flood his crotch.

Slowly opening his eyes again and taking a deep breath, the students looked at one another confused at his strange behaviour.

“The spirits demand it. You need to concentrate.”

His voice remained loud and sarcastic, he avoided looking at you once more, throbbing unbearably as he found it close to impossible to stand up.

Leaning against his desk to relieve the tightness of his tented pants, his skin prickled with arousal as he heard another one of your subconscious thoughts.

Wet, hot and leaking.

The ringing hit him at a higher pitch this time, physically cringing him as he rolled his chest slightly forward and groaning at the pain. Squeezing his eyes shut once more and feeling the air leave his lungs, the image of your salivating pussy to his voice ambushed his mind and sent him into a frenzy of desire.

After wincing for a couple of seconds, the class went silent and questioned what was wrong with him.

“Out! I need everyone out… now!” His voice was heated and he spoke louder than he ever has before, the sense of urgency causing the students to flock their seats quickly.

“Except you… I need you to stay.” He finally opened his eyes and pointed directly at you, some of the students looking at you with concern as they remained confused by his behaviour.

Feeling a heat prickle along your skin, your heart pounded in your chest as this was the first time he’d ever spoken directly to you, a wave of panic flooding over you as your mind raced with the reasoning he chose to keep you back.

As the students emptied the room, he stayed still on the edge of his desk and you slowly walked over, unsure of why he’d asked you to remain if he’s never acknowledged you before.

Staying silent, he pinched the top of his nose bridge and shut his eyes, sighing as he grew more annoyed at the mental images that flashed across his third eye, your reaction to being alone with him being nothing but sexually charged.

“Do you know how frustrating it is?”

His eyes remained shut and you furrowed your brows, confused and lost on what he was referring to.

“I’m sorry?”

Adjusting your bag, your palms began sweating in the midst of your nerves.

“Every. Single. Day. You sit there, doing nothing.”

His voice was low and stern, a blush creeping on your face as it was true, your lesson time was taken up with fantasies of the man instead of actual learning. Your notebook hasn’t even been touched since he’s stepped foot into the classroom. But how could he have known? He’s never spoken to you before.

“Not once have we spoken. Yet I know you so well.”

His voice remained agitated, your blush now vibrating your cheeks as you grew increasingly nervous. He opened his eyes and met yours, gazing over your face as his erection pulled on his crotch.

“I know what you think of me. Fuck…. I know your every thought.”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you clenched your jaw, embarrassment flooding your panties as you stood there dumbfounded at his confession.

“And I think you’re disgusting.”

Your eyes widened as you became humiliated, your mind raced with the possibilities of how he could’ve found out.

How did he know?

“Because I’m psychic.” The words purred off his lips and your stomach dropped.

Responding to your thought, you swayed anxiously as a million questions ran through your mind.

“How… how did you-“

Your voice was quiet, feeling vulnerable as he sat in front of you, horrifying you with his awareness of your thoughts about him.

“I told you how.”

Your head tilted, if anything you were fascinated with his words and questioned the trueness of them.

“But then… why do you teach-“

“To find more people like me.” He sighed out in defeat, staring into your eyes up close for the first time since he started teaching.

Only now did you realise just how gorgeous the man was, his cheekbones sharp and his eyes icy as they poured into yours.

Biting your bottom lip as you felt your walls clench at the sight of him, he rolled his head back and squeezed his eyes.

“S-stop.” He whimpered out, rubbing his head as his cock leaked into his pants.

Your eyes dropped and you noticed his dick print in his pants, widening them as the size of him made your mouth dry. He was thick and big, your heart fluttered as you couldn’t imagine fitting him into your tight walls.

Your cunt was dripping into the soft fabric you wore, sighing as you wanted nothing more than to have him fill any of your holes and use it to his desire.

Fuck… his cocks huge.

Snapping his head up and rapidly batting his eyelashes at you, hearing the way you complimented his throbbing erection, he stood up from the desk and latched both his hands into your hips.

Moving quickly and impatiently, he grunted as his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you quickly against his desk, your ass sat lightly on the wood as his forehead pressed into yours and he flared his nostrils, keeping his eyes shut as he held your sides in his hands.

Holding you close for a few moments, you felt his heavy breath on your chest and his cock press against your stomach. Exasperated and desperate to finally have you, his lust possessed him into needing you right then and there.

“Touch yourself. I-I need you to touch yourself.”

His voice was a whisper and it shook with his demand, leaving you smirking as you’d never seen him so malleable before.

Humming as you lifted up your skirt, you sat further onto the desk and placed your feet up, Mr.Buckley remained still as his eyes stuck onto your exposed panties. He groaned at the wet patch that pooled onto the fabric, relishing in how pretty you looked spread on the desk for him.

Spreading your knees and leaning back onto one hand as the other snaked down your torso onto your covered cunt, you smiled at the way his mouth fell slightly open and his eyes squinted at the sight of you.

Leaning over and placing his hands on either side of your legs, he gulped as he watched your small fingers draw delicate circles on your clit. His chest began heaving as your face scrunched in pleasure, quiet moans escaping your mouth as he admired the way you were so gentle with yourself.

“Let me see.” He growled, growing impatient and desperate to see your soaking pussy on display for him.

You pulled your panties to the side and exposed yourself and he whined at the sight, wincing as the cold air hit your wet slit.

Continuing to lean over your softly trembling body, he dropped a ball of spit from his mouth onto your mound and watched as it slowly dripped down you.

Using his saliva as lubricant, you began to rub faster circles on your needy nub as you felt your walls clench around nothing, the fast impending orgasm bringing you on the brink of seeing stars.

“Touch me.” You moaned out, your hips bucking at your fingers.

“I don’t… I can’t.” The guilt of watching a student, his student, like this was overwhelming. Yet he couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch in pain as he mentally begged to fuck you stupid over the desk.

“You don’t wanna feel my pussy?” You snapped your head up and looked at him through your hazed eyes, your pleasure leaving you drunk and needy for more.

He gulped as he slowly shook his head. Your eyes dropped to his erection and you sighed out through your grin.

“Then why are you so hard Mr.Buckley?” You moaned out his name and he shuddered, his lust slowly taking control of his mind.

“Why are you watching your student touch herself in front of your face?” His skin prickled with desperation and he could no longer withhold his desire, rolling his eyes as he took a deep breath before dropping to his knees.

Grunting animalistically, his arms latched around your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table, close to his face so he could breath you in.

Immediately latching his lips onto your soaked slit, his tongue began to lap up and down your mound.

Throwing your head back in pleasure, his hot breath fanned over your aching hole as he pulled back to look up at you shaking as his touch.

“Stop fucking teasing me.” He growled. Sticking his tongue against you and sucking at you hungrily.

Your moans were growing louder as his tongue slipped into your hole, shoving his face deep into you and filling the room with squelching noises.

“Oh fuck!” Your back began to arch and your fingers intertwined with his hair, circling your hips as he ate at you skilfully and desperately.

You were on the edge of your orgasm, feeling him hum against you as you pulsed on his tongue.

His hot breath was short as his nose was stuck on your groin, ignoring the sense of urgency to take a breath as his determination to have you coat his mouth with your juices was his only priority.

Feeling yourself fall over the edge, the hot knot in your stomach unraveled as you felt liquid pour out of you and into his mouth, nose and chin. His tongue drew number eight’s on your clit as you shook beneath him, attacking the now swollen nub through your orgasm.

He held your thighs firmly in place, not letting you move away from what he was inflicting no matter how violently you shook as you came.

“That’s it… cum for your teacher.” His words were low and velvet smooth, intensifying how hard you came around him.

“Such a pretty girl.” He whispered, occasionally praising the way you squirted on him through your orgasm.

Feeling yourself calm back down as you winced on his tongue from sensitivity, his sloppy kisses turned into pecks on your slit as he pulled your pussy lips slightly apart. Staring at the shine from your cum, he furrowed his brows and whined at how perfect you looked.

Standing up and wobbling on his knees, his gaze panned to your face and you stared back at him in accomplishment. Mentally thanking him for the way his tongue had fucked you, he pulled a slight curl in the corner of his lips as his fingers fumbled to get his belt off.

Finally whipping it out of his waistband, his fingers impatiently zipped down and instantly gave his cock a release from his constraint.

Pressing down onto his erection and sighing at the pressure on your pussy, he pulled your cunt closer to the edge of the desk once more and pressed himself harder against your wet, tired mound.

“Fucking perfect.” His fingers fidgeted to your shirt, pulling it over your head and praising your tits.

He was grateful you didn’t wear a bra, instantly snatching your flesh into his hand and kneaded you desperately.

Rolling your head back and twitching your hips to create a small amount of movement on his clothed cock, he watched the way your mouth fell open as you mentally begged him for more.

I want you to fuck me so bad Mr.Buckley. Fill my tight cunt.

He groaned as he heard your thought, hooking his fingers under his waistband and pooled his underwear to his feet. His thick, veiny cock sprung out and hit your clit as it did, wincing as you remained sensitive from your orgasm.

Taking his leaking red tip and pulling it over your dripping slit, he groaned at how warm you were.

“Coating my cock so well…” He whined out in praise at how aroused you were. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

His fingers pulled up and wrapped along your neck, pressing into your sides harshly and causing you to choke on your air.

“So bad.” You could only moan, needing him desperately to fill you up and leave you dripping with his cum.

Continuing to lather himself in your liquid, he grunted and tightened his grasp on your neck, feeling unsatisfied with your plea.

“So bad! Please Mr.Buckley… I need your cock!” Your voice was trembling and a tear formed in your eye, practically heaving in need for him.

“Good girl.” He lined his tip up perfectly with your entrance and once again tightened his grasp on your neck, he snapped his hips forward and shoved all of him inside your tight hole at once.

Rolling his chest over your body beneath him as he growled at how well your tight walls took him in, you screamed at the intrusion as your hole had been breached and his tip slammed up against the back of your pussy.

“Oh fuck…” His mouth was near your ear, growling pathetically at how good you felt. “S-so- hm- tight.” His voice had raised and he wobbled to regain his balance.

Dragging his hips out teasingly slow and keeping his tip in, he would repeat this and slam into you repeatedly so you could warm you up to his size.

Your neck would surely be bruised tomorrow with the strength of his grip, seeing stars with each rough stroke and lack of oxygen you received. After the painfully slow thrusts he fucked to give you time to adjust, his head remained buried in the crook of your neck and a frustrated throaty groan left him. He began fucking you animalistically and violently, a string of incomprehensible curse words and praise leaving his lips as your walls suffocated his cock.

“Taking my cock so well honey.” He said breathlessly, using you hard and fast to chase his own high.

Fucking you deep as he was rough, you bounced off each thrust as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your moans echoed off the walls, feeling his balls slap against your clit as you were pushed around harshly on his desk.

Shifting on the wood, your hole began to ache at how fast he was going, the slapping noises of your skin beginning to sting as he was treating you selfishly.

“Don’t move.” He growled at you, dropping his hand from your neck onto your hip, holding you still as you felt his cock flex inside of you.

Holding you pinned in position, he took advantage of how weak you were on his cock and started to whimper loudly as his thrusts sped up.

“Oh my god- I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His voice was high pitched as his knees bucked, his thrusts growing inconsistent as you pulsated around him to drain him of all he has.

You felt a hot, white string of liquid squirt and coat the inside of your walls, moaning at the sensation of him emptying his balls into you.

Attempting to continue to fuck you through his orgasm, the sensation was overwhelming as his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth fell open, the look making you think he was about to cry or was in pain as he trembled.

He panted and whined through each stroke, the sound of him so weak was enough to send you over the edge again.

Slowing down the rate and harshness of each thrust, he heaved out whines as his orgasm blurred his mind and emptied out his lungs of air.

Slowly pulling out his softening cock as it fell slightly limp out of you, he continued to breath heavily as he let go of your hip and placed his hands on either side of you again.

Looking up into your face, you admired how gorgeous he looked. Admiring how his hair had messed, his lips had swelled and an arrogant red had spread on his cheeks. Your walls rhythmically pulsated at how flushed he looked and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Stop… you’ll get me hard again.”

[scorpiussage]

The Lost Footage of You | Part 1 (Tom Buckley/OC)

Pairing: Tom Buckley (Red Lights)/OC

Summary: Tom gets called to a review a very odd case involving a young woman and some unexplainable found footage. 

Warnings: Violence, very dark themes

i.

Tom hates dealing with cops and he’s certain they hate him just as much. They watch him with open disdain as he gets buzzed through the locked security check points that keep the patients at Creekwood Sanitarium in and the regulars of society out. 

A nurse with the look of someone exhausted down to their soul meets him once he’s completely through security. She holds out a laminated visitors pass and he barely gets the chance to grab it and fix it to his clothes before she’s marching away from him down the main entrance corridor. 

“You’ll get thirty minutes to talk to her, so make it count,” the woman utters boredly, her gait surprisingly fast given her overall disposition and it causes Tom to have to power walk in order to keep up with her.  

“Er— right,” Tom replies weakly, trying to get his thoughts in order, “Has she said anything since being admitted?”

The nurse shoots him a sharp eyed, pursed lip look, “No.” 

Tom mentally adds “Nurses” to his ever growing list of things and people he hates. 

This entire case is sort of an unconventional one for Tom. Usually he’s exposing supposed psychics and tarot readers as fraudulent— never has he been asked by law enforcement to work on a case. 

Two weeks ago, six people were found brutally murdered at what appeared to be some sort of séance. A seventh person was found unconscious at the scene, a one Y/F/N Y/L/N, and with her a camcorder and a purse full of tapes. Now, Tom hasn’t seen the tapes yet, (he’s still waiting for clearance from the county judge to be allowed to watch them) but he’s been told roughly what they consist of. Whatever is on those tapes has law enforcement quaking in their boots. 

Tom has been called in to not only determine the validity of the tapes, but to also see if the young woman involved has some sort of supernatural ability. The police certainly think that the tapes are supernatural in nature. 

For a psychiatric facility, the living quarters of the patients and the inmates are actually pretty nice compared to the standard. Y/N has her own room and it has a few furnishings like a desk and a cushioned chair near the barred window. She’s sitting in said chair, starring out into the gray gloom of the facility grounds and the forest beyond them. 

This is the first look that Tom is getting of her and while they told him she was young, he’s still surprised. She can’t be older than 25 and she’s shockingly beautiful too. He sort of freezes in place when their eyes meet for the first time. He feels all too like the skinny weird kid he used to be and being faced with the local hottie. 

“Remember Mr. Buckley, 30 minutes,” the nurse says, shocking Tom out of his trance as she leaves the two of them alone, locking the door behind herself. 

Tom clears his throat awkwardly and takes a seat on the edge of Y/N’s desk, realizing too late that it probably makes him look like a middle school teacher trying to seem down to earth. 

“Hello,” he says with a weak smile, “I’m Dr. Tom Buckley.” 

“You don’t look like a doctor,” Y/N replies with a voice so soft that Tom has to lean forward to hear her better. 

“Er— I’m not a medical doctor, actually I’m a physicist.” 

Trying to grasp onto what to say next, Tom pulls the desk chair out and brings it over to where she’s sitting, placing himself in front of her, “I’m sort of a specialist in my particular field.” 

The woman stares at him blankly and it prompts him to start info dumping, “I deal with uncovering frauds who claim to be psychic or to have supernatural abilities. Not to say that that’s what you are, but that’s why I’m here.” 

The woman nods, “The police think I killed all those people.” 

Tom winces, “Um, yeah, they do.” 

Sinking into her chair she regards him with those piercing eyes of hers, almost making him feel like he’s being dissected. 

“Sometimes things happen around me that don’t make sense,” she says after a while, cutting off Tom who was about to start asking questions if only to fill the silence, “I carry around a videocamera to document everything.” 

“Have you? Documented these weird happenings?”

Y/N fidgets, her eyes darting to look back out the window, “A friend of a friend of a friend heard about me and requested me to do this séance? Like with a ouija board and stuff? I didn’t really want to do it but he said he’d pay me for my time.”

She takes a deep breath here, seemingly struggling to say out loud what occurred, “I told them it was a bad idea. The weird things that happen around me? The energies don’t like being taunted and I told those people that but they didn’t listen to me.” 

Tom quickly pulls out a notebook and pen, ready to take notes, “Can you tell me a bit more about these ‘energies’? What do they do?” 

“I— I wouldn’t call them ghosts, that seems too simple to what they are. They just— they’re always there, following me around? They get mad if I ignore them too long or if I try to provoke them.” 

“What do they do if you ignore them?” He asks. 

Y/N bites her lip nervously, eyeing him like she’s trying to decide if he’s trustworthy or not. She must come to the conclusion that he is, because she turns around in her chair and lifts up the back of her shirt. 

Tom’s notebook and pen go clattering to the floor, his shock audible in the horrified gasp he lets out. Big ugly bruises and weeping claw marks mar her back, in locations and styles that she would not be able to do to herself. 

Tom thinks that this case is going to end up being more than he bargained for. 

ii.

Tom isn’t sure what to expect when he finally gets approval to view the video tapes. He’s left alone in an unused interrogation room with a small box TV and a larger-than-he-expected stack of tapes. None of them are labeled and the cop that escorted him to the room fucked off without saying anything. 

With a deep sigh, Tom grabs the first tape on the top and pushes it into the VCR. It starts off how all home made videos are want to do, with jumbled, unfocused images before they finally settle.

It’s Y/N filming herself through the reflection of a bathroom mirror. She’s breathing heavily and the camera is shaking with her unsteady hands. Gulping audibly, she starts talking, “It’s— uh— Tuesday, August the 5th. The noises are back.” 

She jumps when a loud thump echoes in the background. She swings the camera to face a closed door— either the door to the bathroom or a closet, Tom can’t tell. Everything is still and quiet before another bang visibly rattles the door in its frame. Like someone slammed their fist into it. 

Y/N drops the camera in fright, the visual becoming that of her feet and the bottom of the door. 

Tom is both captivated and horrified, this whole thing is playing out like a real life horror movie.

“Don’t do it, don’t open the door,” he mutters to himself, both literally and figuratively on the edge of his seat. He holds his breath when she cracks the door.

She stands there for a moment before reaching down and picking up the camera. The door is now open to show a tightly packed linen closet. There’s absolutely no where a person could hide in that. 

Tom turns off the TV. 

iii.

The next time Tom goes to visit her, it’s during the patients’ outside recreational time. She’s sat off by herself under the shade of a large tree and she’s ripping up fistfuls of grass boredly. Tom rubs his sweaty palms on his pants before taking a seat near her. 

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, “How are you?”

She shrugs and he tries to figure out what to say next. 

“How long have weird things been happening to you?” He eventually lands on, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Since I was a kid, I guess? My mom kept making us move because she was convinced the houses we lived in were haunted.” 

The ‘but it’s actually me’ goes unsaid. Tom feels a lot of sympathy for her, he can’t imagine being terrorized by unseen forces for years. He doesn’t really know how to express that sentiment to her though without flat out saying her life is a fucking horror movie. 

Deciding to change trajectory of the conversation, he asks, “Can you tell me more about that night?”

“It was supposed to be a seance,” she tells him and then after a long pause adds, “I think.” 

He frowns, “You think?”

She brushes the loose grass off of her palms, “The set up was really weird. Everyone was in a circle and they made me sit in the middle.”

“You were in the middle?”

She nods, “I brought my camera, but they told me I wasn’t allowed to film. I lied about turning it off and left it recording inside my bag. I just felt weird about the whole thing.” 

Tom bites at his thumb as he thinks. He hasn’t made it to the video of that night yet and this conversation is creating more questions than answers. 

“What happened next?” He finally asks. 

“That’s the thing. I can’t remember.” 

iv

Tom doesn’t know how many more of the tapes he can watch. Each one is more horrifying than the last and if it were him, he would’ve taken a swan dive off a building out of sheer terror. 

For not the first time, he wishes Margaret was still alive to give him some guidance on what to do. Part of him feels relief that there’s another with strange abilities, but not at the suffering of this poor woman. 

He’s only halfway through the stack and he feels like this entire experience has aged him 10 years. With an exhausted sigh, he pops the next one into the VCR and hits play. 

The video starts off with a visual of the end of her bed before she turns the camera around to show her face. The lighting is poor, coming only from the faint glow of her bedside lamp. 

“It’s 2:38 am,” her voice is in a hushed whisper like she’s afraid of being overheard, “There’s something under my bed.” 

She peeks the camera over the edge of her bed to show her wooden floors. Nothing happens for a long moment before the camera jolts as the bed is shaken in its frame. She lets out a scream and buries herself under the covers like a child would, bringing the camera with her. The video goes on with a close up of her panicked face until eventually she falls asleep. 

Tom feels like he’s the only one who’s capable of protecting her. 

to be continued...

Part 2

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Red Lights Spoilers (but like not really)👇🏼‼️

About to watch the scene I’ve been waiting for the whole movie where Tom gets the shit beat out of him and I will be live tweeting my reaction…

Ok we at a urinal for some reason

‘Whistling continues’

Ope

Ok cut to sally and Ben. Rude sally

OH NO TOM

Unhand him!

He’s so tiny let him go

There you go little fighter!

Come on Tommy

On no his hand

God he looks hot like that though

Oh no he comin Tom

OH SHIT

Oh well that’s just wrong

Why he trying to hurt the little man

NOOOOO

HOLY SHIT I would like to know if they got a stunt double for that

Again, why he hot

No leave his pretty face alone

But god he’s hot

It’s ok get up Tommy boy

Well shit…

Ok now ben you’re being a little bitch

He up and still hot as ever

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk I will now finish the movie

Might even have an idea for some Tom Buckley fan fic idk

[dhampiravidi]

yeah so no spoilers but guess who feels bad for a character in a movie called Red Lights that I've never seen? ME.

Tom Buckley (Cillian Murphy's character, shush) the physicist dude. if you know what happens at the end, you know why he should meet my OC from The Covenant (2006)...

[firstprinced]

TAYLOR ZAKHAR PEREZ as Alex Claremont-Diaz in Red, White & Royal Blue (2023)

[mulderscully]

That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough.

[daikunart]

[swordmaid]

a girl who is a noir detective man and a guy who is a femme fatale

[neonfeel]

Pulp Fiction (1994)

[forgetful-river]

Local woman summons demon, you'll never believe what happens next!

[easycompanys]

KAREN ALLEN as MARION RAVENWOOD RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981)

[meraki-yao]

Taylor during last night's dinner party

[scorpiussage]

The Lost Footage of You | Part 2 (Tom Buckley/OC)

Pairing: Tom Buckley (Red Lights)/OC

Summary: Tom gets called to a review a very odd case involving a young woman and some unexplainable found footage. 

Warnings: Violence, very dark themes, smut

Part 1

V.

Tom is there waiting for her when she gets released from the psychiatric facility. Despite regaining her freedom, she looks terribly lost as she shuffles around awkwardly in the intake atrium. 

“Hey,” he greets with a small wave. 

She gives him a weak smile in return. 

“I heard your house is still cordoned off. Do you have anywhere you can stay?” He asks gently, trying to not scare her off. 

Unsuccessfully it seems, because she starts to walk away from him and he panics, “You could stay with me!”

“If you want,” he quickly adds when she turns back around to look at him. 

It’s a bit of a standoff as they regard each other and she contemplates her options. Eventually she says, “Fine.” 

…

Tom normally doesn’t feel self conscious about his warehouse apartment, but he desperately wants her to feel comfortable. He starts trying to give her a tour but it becomes awkward quick because his apartment is an open layout. 

“Here, I’ll take your coat,” he immediately jumps to fill the silence. She absentmindedly hands him her jacket while looking around his apartment. 

“Cool place.” 

“Yeah I–uh–got a good deal on it,” he realizes too late that he doesn’t actually have a place to hang up coats, so he just drapes it over the back of a chair. 

She turns to look at him with that sharp gaze of hers and he thinks she going to scold him about what a slob he is. (It’s what his last girlfriend did.) However, instead of digging into him about his general lack of organization, she asks, “Aren’t you worried?”

His voice cracks in nervousness, so he clears his throat, “About what?”

“They think I killed all those people. Aren’t you worried I’ll kill you too?”

She’s so earnest in her concern, her shame and guilt so evident that he has no idea how they even suspected her in the first place. He approaches her slowly, like how one would a skittish mouse, “I’m not afraid of you.” 

Kissing her feels like the most natural thing in the world; like coming home. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his thumb tracing the seam of her lips. Her tongue darts out to taste the appendage, making his gaze darken with arousal. 

Her answering nod is timid, but her voice is firm when she says, “I do.” 

He pulls her into another kiss, this one searing hot and bellying his desires. She moans into it, a soft sound that he endeavors to hear more of. Reaching down, he grips her under her thighs, hoisting her up so that she can wrap them around his waist. 

In the distance he can hear what sounds like popping, but he ignores it in favor of the way she tastes. He seats himself on his couch, placing her on top of him. His hands drift up to grip at her hips, the tips of his fingers teasing up under the hem of her t-shirt. 

That’s all the prompting she needs to let him guide her hips down until she’s grinding her core against the bulge in his pants. She pulls away from the kiss to gasp his name, her hips starting a solid rhythm that will have this ending far sooner than he wants to. 

“Fuck,” Tom hisses. This is the most turned on he’s been in a long time. Everything about her is driving him wild; her smell, her voice, even the way she tastes. 

Before she can pull him into another mind blowing kiss, he stops her, “Wait. I wanna do this right.” 

He gently nudges her off of his lap before standing up. He grasps her hand in his and leads her up the stairs to the loft where his bed is waiting. 

She smiles at the sight, “Not a couch person?”

“No, no, normally I don’t mind, but I wanted you to be comfortable for when I do this.” 

She’s still processing his words when he pushes her down onto the bed. He’s quick to crawl up between her legs, nudging his nose against her legging covered sex. 

“Tell me this is okay,” he practically begs, his voice raspy and desperate. 

Her fingers thread through his hair, tugging on his locks encouragingly, “Please, Tom.” 

She barely gets his name out before he’s tugging off her pants and underwear. She tries to shyly close her legs, but he shoulders his way between them. He guides her hands to re-tangle in his hair and he looks up at her with hooded eyes, “Use me.” 

He immediately begins devouring her, licking and sucking up her juices like it’s his last meal. Her hips begin grinding against his face and tongue and he can’t help but moan at the actions. Fuck, he loves eating women out. 

He slowly eases a finger into her while he sucks at her clit, obsessed at the way her cunt flutters around the digit– squeezing it like the most wonderful of hugs. His name is being chanted at him and her grip is unrelenting in his hair. He might actually cum just from this. 

He pulls away to slip a second finger into her, pumping them in and out and rubbing that spongy spot inside of her that has her letting out a high pitched keen and arching off of the bed. If he were paying attention, he would’ve heard what sounded like glass shattering in the distance. 

“Fuck, do you know how perfect you are?” He tells her and chuckles when all he gets in return is incoherent babbling. 

Sitting up, her iron grip in his hair releases and her hands fall limply by her sides. Her face is flushed so prettily and her chest is heaving in these great big gasps. He runs his free hand up her stomach and under her shirt, groping one of her breasts and timing his squeezing of it with the rhythm he’s fingering her with. 

“Tom,” the way she says his name sounds like she’s begging for him. Normally he’d spend quite a bit of time on the foreplay, kissing and sucking and rubbing her all over. But he’s so uncharacteristically wound up, like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t do something about it. 

Removing his fingers from her, he starts tugging at the button and zipper of his pants, her hands joining his in pushing the offending fabric down his thighs. She immediately grips him, her soft hands pumping him up and down–squeezing the head on the way back up like she’s trying to milk every last drop of cum from his cock. 

They work together to line him up with her fluttering cunt, Y/N being the one to notch the head in her entrance. He manages to take his time pushing into her, easing back and forth so that there’s no discomfort. The lights in the apartment (and around the block) flicker as he seats himself fully inside of her. The two of them are completely blind to it, though, their entire beings with each other in this moment. 

He shoves her shirt up, pushing her bra with it. Her tits are perfect, and as juvenile as it is, the vision of them alone could be enough to make him cum. He buries his face between them, giving a playful bite to one as he starts fucking her harder. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulls him up so that their lips reconnect, their tongues meeting in a filthy dance and their breaths mingling. 

“Let me–fuck– let me know where you want me to cum,” he demands while hauling her hips up and driving into her at a punishing pace. 

She manages to get a strangled ‘Pull out!’ in-between her squeals of pleasure. 

He barely pulls out in time, his cock already spurting all over her belly before he’s even really wrapped a hand around it. 

“Fuckkkkkk,” he groans, dropping his head to rest in the crook of her shoulder. He settles even more deeply on top of her when her fingers begin carding gently through his hair. 

“What’s going to happen to me?” She whispers out fearfully. His only answer is to hold her more tightly because even he isn’t sure where things will go from here. 

…

Tom is reluctant to leave the following morning. She watches him from a cocoon of blankets on the couch while he dallies about. He’s doing everything he can to put off making his way to the police station to finish his viewing of the video tapes. He has one more to watch today and he’s sure it’s from that night. 

“I’ll still be here when you get back - I’m not running away.” 

Tom’s head jerks up to look at her, his brow pulled down in confusion before he realizes what she means. She thinks he’s reluctant to leave because he’s worried she’ll run off. 

“No, no that’s not-,” he stutters, trying to figure out what to say, “I’m not worried about that. ‘Just don’t really want to leave you is all.”

He doesn’t exactly have the words to explain his complex feelings about his role as a paranormal investigator in her case. He can tout her innocence all day, but he doesn’t know if he can convince the police of the same thing. 

Coming to a decision, he moves forward and pecks a kiss to her forehead, “I’ll be back soon.” 

He heads out the door only to come to a sharp stop right outside. 

All the cars along the street have their windows broken out. He runs to his car, also with broken windows, and is relieved to see nothing has been stolen. A sudden memory of last night rushes to the front of his mind and he rubs his face with a groan. 

His powers haven’t ever done destruction quite on this scale before but it’s obviously the cause of this. How embarrassing. 

Opening his car, he quickly brushes the glass off his seat before starting on his way to the police station. He wonders to himself while he drives if his and Y/N’s gifts feed off each other; if somehow they amplified the output. 

As he pulls into the station he realizes he’s going to have to run some experiments with her later about it. (Likely with more sex - not that he’s complaining) 

It’s early on a Saturday a morning and so the station is far quieter than usual with only a hand full of officers manning the desks and all of them either half asleep or fully. The front desk officer recognizes him and just waves him through without taking his eyes off his phone. 

In the unused interrogation room, the box tv with the stack of video tapes waits for him. One set off to the side, a mental note to himself that it’s the only unwatched one. He holds his breath when he pushes it into the VCR. 

It starts midway through a conversation with one of the victims. 

“-oh uh, we actually don’t really want this filmed. I hope you don’t mind,” the man says while eyeing the camera nervously. He about 40 years old and balding, there are other men behind him of similar disposition. 

It’s quiet for a moment as Y/N seems to contemplate this request before she says, “Um, sure.” 

The camera doesn’t get turned off though, instead the view changes to the inside of her bag as she shoves it in there, still recording. 

Things are quiet and muffled for several minutes before the screaming starts. It’s not the men who’s screaming, though, it’s Y/N and it’s perfectly clear she’s begging the men to ‘Stop’. 

Tom can’t see what they’re doing to her but it can’t be good. No woman screams like that for no reason. 

After a while she goes quiet and the tape continues recording the inside of her bag until it runs out. 

Tom feels like vomiting. 

When the VCR spits out the tape he stares at it for a long while.

 When he was a child, he’d made a vow for himself. That he would stop all the psychic con artists he could and that he would protect anyone he ever found to be like himself. It wouldn’t be until he was much older that he would remember that, and here he is in a very particular sort of situation. 

They’ll never believe her innocence, this he knows for fact. Women like her– people like them, don’t have the fortune of being celebrities like Silver was. Because when confronted with the real thing, people will only feel fear. 

Coming to a decision, he grabs all of the video tapes and shoves them into his bag. 

The walk out of the station is just as easy as the walk in was, in fact, he’s certain the man at the front desk didn’t even register him walking out. Still, though, he tries to look natural as he gets back into his car and starts driving away. 

When he’s far enough from the station, he guns it back to his apartment, already making a mental list of what he needs to grab. 

Y/N is sitting at his kitchen counter flipping through one of his books when he comes barging in. Her little jump of fear and the accompanying squeak would be adorable if this wasn’t such a dire situation. 

“Grab what you can, we’re leaving.” 

Her jaw drops and she stares at him with wide eyes before what he says really registers and then she’s hopping up and helping him grab essentials. 

She stops him at one point, resting a gentle hand on his arm and looking up at him with those big mournful eyes, “Where are we going to go?”

He presses his head against hers and says, “Wherever we want. Far away. And while we’re driving there’s something I have to tell you about.” 

Later, when they’ve stopped for the night and he’s thinking things over, he wonders if they were drawn together. If their powers are magnetic forces pulling their lives onto the same track. 

Whatever it may be, they’re here together now and he’s no longer alone. He’s finally found another like him. 

THE END.

[of-fear-and-love]

[strangergraphics-archive]

hi i adore your dividers they’re so cute!!! can you do red/horror themed dividers if you haven’t already?

thank you so much sweetheart!

i’m so happy you like them! 💕

also i kinda went down the route of horror movies on this one so hope that’s okay!!

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[rockingtheorange]

Do you ever think about how important and significant Alex's action to give his key to Henry was?

Alex had brought the key with him everywhere throughout his life since he got it.

Then, the first moment he's quietly alone with Henry, Alex gets to explain what it means to him: it's the key to his family's house in Austin.

But it means much more to him: it's from the times when his family was still all together (book), it's his childhood, his time growing up in Texas, it's his mixed blood, and the quiet life he left behind to follow his mother in something bigger than him.

That key is his comfort and reminder of what he was and the memories he will treasure forever.

Alex doesn't tell all of this to Henry, but Mr. HRH Prince Dickhead knows there's more about it underneath, just like how he had always known Alex wasn't just a peasant boy.

Alex brings his keychain everywhere and Henry is always there to admire it.

The key to Henry means something completely different: it's the reminder of his unusual life, the fact that he can't have such normal things as possessing a simple key, it represents all the things he can only admire from afar but he'll never be able to posses.

And then Alex breaks the wall that Henry thought would suffocate him forever, that seemed impossible to destroy.

Alex starts to remove the key when he's in the most intimate moments with Henry. He decides to leave the thoughts and worries related to his family for another time. He decides to be fully Henry's, even during just brief rendezvous.

And Henry takes everything he can, as far as he can. Till the moment, he's sure will come, when the magic breaks and the key will return to be something to admire and desire from afar, but never possess.

But Alex isn't just a peasant boy.

He hands over his childhood, his memories and his whole being to Henry, with just a simple gesture. Alex says "Henry, I'm yours." by giving him the object of his desires, by breaking the illusion that Henry can't be a normal boy, simply owning the key of someone's heart.

And Henry is reluctant to accept it, cause he knows (just like he had always known that Alex wasn't just a peasant boy) that the key means so much to him. But Henry accepts, cause he wants to believe that the wall between them can break, Alex made him believe it. And he grips and holds onto that hope like his life depends on it, cause it does.

Alex is the only key to his freedom.