#the neighbour's under the bed

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Sfth wallpapers part 2? More likely than you think!

[youling-the-ghost]

Y'know if you stop and think about it, a lot of sfth's improvised plays are dark as hell. Like:

A kid was sent to prison and was blamed for burning down half of Somerset even though the fire wasn't his fault and he was just tired of being bullied.

A psychopathic 8-year-old boy murdered his mum and set fire to a zoo, probably killing many people and animals.

A mother tried to protect her son from his father after he killed his best friend, only to be hated by said son and ended up being captured by the one who she once loved.

An innocent woman was burned to death because her husband slept with the neighbour and the neighbour's highly-intelligent kids took revenge by burning down their house.

A man watched his husband die right in his arms and couldn't do anything about it (sure he was revived afterwards but it's still fucking traumatic to have your loved one die in your arms).

And these are just some examples. There's probably more from plays that I haven't watched yet.

[hellsquills]

"Are you suggesting that I get my football prowess from fucking my wife?!" (x)

requested by: @your-dead-european-ancestor

Endless SFTH gifs [ 1 / ?? ]

[i-may-be-an-emu]

[lionheartedmusings]

man, i'm never gonna get over just how wildly underestimated q!bad is and how much of that is to some extent by design. i genuinely think that unless you're there for his streams, you can't really grasp the multiple chess boards that are this one demon's interactions and just how much power he holds over every little thing.

as far as most people are concerned q!bad is kind, and generous, and maybe a little out of the loop. he's the resident complainer, a terrible liar who tries to gaslight everyone, the guy who spent months being nothing more than a walking atm and a glorified babysitter -- he's mischievous and a prankster, but otherwise pretty harmless. that's just bad! a silly little guy, maybe annoying at times but just... bad.

the thing is, q!bad didn't start playing this game when the eggs went missing, my man's been curating how he's seen for a good while, because he *wants* to be non-threatening and dismissed to an extent. he wants to be liked desperately, wants to be of service and takes pride and joy in doing so, wants to be kind because he genuinely enjoys bringing people happiness, sure. he's also devious and macabre and sinister. he's terrifying... but you don't get very far with that, so he hides sharp teeth and words of the devil under careful smiles.

it's still working miraculously, even after it's been made pretty fucking clear that he's the one that kidnapped ron and potentially hurt him -- people still don't expect the depths of his machinations. it's absolutely wild to witness.

he moves with such subtlety, works his way around interactions purposefully slipping here and there, lying poorly on purpose, making himself seem at times... well, ineffective. he plays on what's expected of him and it helps him actually get his shit done without being bothered, because people only look skin deep.

all of this to say that q!bad really showcases the power of underestimating your opponent and how doing so gets you caught in a web you truly can't unravel from because you don't see the strings. he keeps saying that "everything is going according to plan" regardless of how many wrenches are thrown in it because he's the man with a backup plan for his backup plans to his backup plans.

he's absolutely fucking horrifying in a way that is hard to put into words until you see the extend of what he's hiding, and in his darkest moments i can't help but imagine the teeth and terror and snarls that hide under his cloak.

he is also a silly lil kind guy who is one inch tall, though. q!bad contains multitudes.

[sfth-fanpage]

A (group of) posts in appreciation of...

SFTH Children

5/?: Luke and Tom

Best boys 💛

[spotforme]

i do say, i am wondering wether Janet's evil planning stress nipples are her own, meaning she has huge boobs, or are they detachable, made by someone else; stress balls kinda?

[bootyful-seventeen]

hey y'all, anyone have any good stress relief tehniques or habits they'd like to share cuz I've been more stressed in the last 3 weeks then I was in the last 6 months

[queenhawke]

anyway: Him

[acanthyme]

ok done jinxing myself. in for the night NO shovelling till the morn.... a brief reprieve from the harsh sudden winter....

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

watch me do this instead of homework

[youling-the-ghost]

In my sfth cinematic universe, Peter Steven, the children from The Neighbour's Under the Bed, and the son from Too Big To Be a Jockey are all in a support group for traumatised youth. The Sisyphus kid is also a frequent visitor.

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[i-may-be-an-emu]

SFTH Fic Masterlist

#21. The Neighbour’s Under The Bed

Full master list here

[sunsburns]

guess

smut 18+, age gap, fem reader, underwear fixation

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

he acts like he doesn’t notice, and he acts like you don’t exist. but the moment you bumped into him in the laundry room it’s been hard to ignore you.

it was wade who’d introduced the two of you to each other when he was giving logan the grand tour of the apartment complex, and they’d run into you while you were unloading a drier, tossing your clothes into a basket.

you in your tiny shorts and tight tank top, one earbud in and the other dangling by your chest. he tried hard not to stare, especially when you slowly straightened yourself up, holding your basket of clothes to your side, hair messy and sticking to your face a little bit.

it was hot in the laundry room, hell, the whole fucking building felt like a furnace now that the a.c. refused to work in the peak of summer.

but there you were, wide smile and open arms when wade shoved logan in your direction. you didn’t take it personally when he merely grunted at you, a slight nod to his head as a greeting. to logan’s surprise, your lips curled as you looked up at him, and you stared up at him like he was some kind of tree you wanted to climb.

no shame about it either.

logan’s eyes were drawn to your basket as wade spoke, retelling the whole story of how the two of you became ‘neighbour besties’, as he had put it. how you helped wade keep up with the ‘youngsters’, as he called them.

no, logan was too busy staring at a lacy black pair of panties sitting at the top of your basket. pretty little thing, pretty little bows to adorn it.

he slowly tore his eyes away from them and looked at you, then down to your hips where he could see your bright pink underwear, peaking out from the denim.

and maybe, in a dream or two, he imagined what those cute pink ones looked like in full. how it would be like to push you against your door before you could even unlock it, unbutton your shorts and dig his hands into them just to feel the soft fabric of your pretty pink underwear, soiled and ruined from how wet you were with want.

but for now, he’d have to do with the black lacy ones, he almost didn't want to take them off. running his hands over the fabric, grinning when your back arches against the bed, a little desperate, way too needy.

you’ve soaked them, all ruined just from him touching you, from the way his teeth teased you, pulling at the bows, running his nose over your clothed pussy.

logan hooked his fingers over the fabric at the center, pulling it to the side, tongue poking into your cunt, drawing out a whine from you. with an open mouth, he pulled back to see your slick, coated lips with a satisfied grunt.

logan pulled them back just to stare. fuck, they were so pretty. you were so pretty just sitting under him, in nothing but those pretty panties. yeah, logan might be old, but he can keep up for a night.

[sfth-fanpage]

Hmm I wonder what Sam's reacting to 👀

Bonus! Live Tom Reaction