#Imagine if you will...

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will...

Acting as the Frontman's PA, and having the Guard harem wrapped around your finger.

This part is:

PA Announcer

Musical Fan!reader

This will be a choose your adventure kind of thing where there will be multiple with jobs/specialties/interactions.

a/n: Hope you like Mamma Mia xoxo

Please don't hesitate to request!!

Walking a few steps behind the Frontman, peering through your silver mask and analysing the clipboard in your hands you updated your boss on the status of everything being prepared for the games.

Based on the grunts and scoffs he let out you crossed out and marked different items on the list. For a man of little words, he sure was good at communicating. After the large doors to the hall closed, you looked first to your boss then to the militia-like staff.

Handing over the checklist to the closest square, you nodded to your boss and turned to leave.

“Squares 1 through 16, Your men will be painting the halls. Squares 18 through 21, Your men will construct the bridge. Squares 22 and 23..." As you approached your office the front man's voice faded away.

There was a surprising amount of paper work for a company that strived to leave no traceable evidence, you supposed they needed to be completely aware of the crimes that the company had committed as to better cover their tracks. That being said, you would swear that the pile had grown since before breakfast.

So sitting down in your little office you pulled off your mask and began to sort through the first few files. After certain issues and unauthorised branches sprung up in the command structure of the previous year's games, you been given the tedious task of vetting all potential contestants.

The main rules were; no one with medical training, we cant have another spout of organ harvesting, no one with knowledge that could reduce or alter the difficulty of the games, aka no more glass guys, and so on and so forth for what seemed to be an unending and ever growing pile of filters.

You'd made it through half of the pile, removing a few of the contestants for their quote unquote leadership qualities, when an alarm chimed from your phone. Tugging forward the microphone you grabbed the notes from today's agenda, before crackling the speakers to life with the press of a button.

'It is now midday. Lunch will be available to grab under the sun for the next 90 minutes. Today's music choice is... mine and will be the entire Mamma Mia musical soundtrack followed by twenty minutes of me replaying my favourite songs.'

Pressing play on the album and turning off the microphone you opted to return to your work for the time being, only now there was the occasional humming along.

When a tapping came from your window you finally stopped, slipping your silvery mask back into place and tugging back the unnecessarily extravagant curtain you observed a single circle giving you a thumbs up.

Waving to him you stepped closer and peered to the side, down the hall stood a group grooving, and as you pressed your ear to the glass you could hear their voices singing along.

Sneaking your secure and very dumb brick of a phone out of your pocket you started to record, before noticing the circle was now waving for you to join them.

Deciding... screw it you leaned your phone against the sill and slipped out of the office to join the gaggle of guards. Only then did you notice just how loud the PA system was set to as the concrete under your feet vibrated with the music.

Dancing and singing along, the group seemed to grow as the album played on... until your boss' brash tone cracked over the system;

'Okay that's enough, go get your food.'

Oh yeah... lunch.

[sentanixiv]

Imagine, if you will...

Arthur and Hosea having a discussion about the next scam that Hosea’s cooked up and what kind of roles are needed, and Arthur being tired of being given the mute/quiet/invisible role.

Arthur: You's always making my role so killjoy. Hosea: That's because I remember the time you were playing that young oil baron in Tennessee.  The one that liked to have drinks with friends? Arthur: I don't. Hosea: That'd be because you drank half the saloon's whiskey, ran naked down the street, and Dutch ended up having to talk the sheriff out of hanging you for indecent exposure after half the eligible ladies in that town fainted at the sight of of what you called, and I quote, your "oil well drill shaft." Arthur: ...nope, I ain't remember none of that. Never happened.

Brought to you by chatting with @emmithar-blog about Hosea and Arthur.

[just-french-me-up]

'ao3 needs a like and dislike button'

what you need, my algorithm-rotten minded friend, is a grip

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who never gets mad at his wife. No matter how angry he is. CW : None. Pure fluff

Simon was practically fuming. First he'd been ordered by Price to train a group of new recruits, then, the young recruits decided to be a colossal pain in the ass, and to top it off, he'd missed his lunch break where he would normally have some respite by calling you.

So now, he was shouting at the recruits. More than usual. The recruits all looked dead on their feet. But Simon didn't care, they decided to be annoying little pricks. They needed discipline or they'd never make it in the military.

"For fucks sake, you mongrel! Run ten laps!" Simon roared at a recruit, the others looking nervous. Not wanting to be the next one to face Simon.

"Uh, sir?" One of the recruits squeak.

"What?!" Simon roared, the recruit pointing behind Simon.

Simon turned with a low growl, clearly not in the mood for anymore antics, only for him to look down and see you. His wife, in a pretty little sundress and holding a Tupperware container full of something. It didn't matter what was inside, his stomach was growling at the thought of your cooking.

"Swee'heart" Simon sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing and his arms wrapping around your waist. He relished in the squeak that came from you as he lifted you up and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"You alright, big guy?" you giggle. Simon grumbling in agreement. Making you laugh again.

Simon set you down, barking at the recruits to find Price and that he'll be taking over the training, before walking behind you with his hands on your waist to guide you to his office.

"Si, if you're busy I can go" you offer, and Simon can barely handle how fucking sweet you are to him.

Simon shook his head, taking off his balaclava and sitting in his office chair. Pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Made you some cottage pie" you grin, opening the container in your hands and handing it to Simon. God it was still warm. "I thought you were gonna yell at me with how mad you were at the recruits"

"Would never yell at you, princess" Simon said, rubbing your hips as you fed him a forkful of the cottage pie. He groaned at the taste, making you giggle.

"good?"

"so fucking good, lovie. Needed your cooking after how shit today has been" Simon smiled, bringing your left hand to his lips and kissing your wedding ring gently.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

btw guys I pulled white lily cookie and dark cacao cookie while writing this :p

[antennatoheaven]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I love you Safety Wizard.

(Inspired by @keroascrazy)

[fox-bright]

I am never going to be able to leave Reddit.

[sniperct]

[bluemotifofsleep]

-—— ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ——-

Thinking about how when you start dating satoru, you NEVER shower alone again.

Like, he’s making dinner and he hears the water start running? He’s barely remembering to turn the stove off before tearing through the house towards the bathroom, peeling his clothes off as he runs and almost eating shit in his haste.

It’s not even entirely for sex reasons, (though that is a strong motivator for him most of the time) sometimes he’s pulling back the shower curtain and slipping in beside you just to wash your hair, just to scrub that one part of your back you can’t quite reach. He loves rubbing the soap suds into your skin and watching you melt under his ministrations, loves the way you look so vulnerable with your hair dripping wet, completely naked and comfortable with him, and only him.

Even if he’s already had a shower that day, just a few hours earlier (the whole time he was waiting for you to slip in next to him- going as far as washing his hair three times, just to stall- but you weren’t quite at his level of freak, yet) the second he hears you grabbing a towel from the cabinet, he’s jumping up from his spot on the couch and running over to the bathroom, only to despairingly find the door locked.

“Honey, why is the door locked?” His words come out accusing, like you’ve committed some heinous crime instead of simply protecting your peace. He’s jiggling the door handle like a child who’s made it to the car before his mom has unlocked the door, impatient and irritated.

You huff, naked on the other side of the door, afraid the hinges might give out from his insistent jostling.

“Because!“ reasoning with him is useless, and yet you still try. “I need an everything shower and you’re just going to distract me!”

A pause on the other side of the door, the squeeking of metal protesting under his strength stopping, before it starts up again, harder. “I am your everything shower!”

-—— ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ——-

[murataesque]

How I found out about trump getting shot

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will...

Attempting to make the most of your stay with your family friends despite the tension that is still lingering after 70 odd years.

This is the *Fluffy* Part 2 an obscenely long time after the other two parts, Fair warning although it gets quite cute, the beginning is a little angsty cause like Ambrose was a dick and needs to apologise so ya know...

P1 -- Angsty p2 

WC: 1.9k

You gathered yourself, walking down the hall before striking your knuckles twice on his door. You were met with silence, yet just as you raised your clenched fist to knock again you heard from behind you;

“Hi”

"Ambrose..."

His name was simply all you could manage, the determination from mere seconds before had dripped away and settled in the grooves of the floor. Turning to meet his eyes, you allowed your arms to drop as dead weight to hang by your sides, every ounce of you tired from the hours of anticipation and dread.

The extended silence that hung in the air between the two of you felt unending, your eyes had all but glazed over in your trance. The sound of his footfalls was what alerted you mere milliseconds before you were crushed in his embrace, his head rested atop your own, tucking you into himself. There was no space, no air between the two of you, it was admittedly a not unwelcome change but it was cast in the shadows of the discussions that had to follow it.

The exhale that tumbled from his lungs turned into hurried kisses along the crown of your head, the small acts of affection wrought a funny familiarity, It had been almost a century since you conceded to yourself that you would never feel it again, and decades since you last allowed yourself to remember it. His embrace still felt the same, hauntingly, jarringly so, as if it was someone else's distant memory not your own that you were experiencing.

Despite the strange looming feelings the interaction was nothing near short, you clung to each other, fisting the clothes beneath splayed hands for near half an hour.

Pulling back you met his eyes, "It's been a while ey?" eyes falling over his form; "How has it been, being trapped inside?" he simply rolled his eyes as his hands sat on your hips, the warmth of his skin calming in the crisp autumn air, not to mention the scent that remained the same despite the decades that have passed. The smell is every memory, every adventure and experience you had shared, every whispered secret and playful scheme.

"Heaven how I missed you!" He gripped your sides tighter as he pulled you closer once again and spun the pair of you on the spot in the snug hallway. A sound, a mix of a quaint giggle and absurd snort erupted from your stomach at the shock of the movement. "Me too 'Ro. Can't say I expected such a warm welcome though..." you allowed your sentence to hang between the pair of you unfinished, knowing he was the only one who could answer the question you didn't ask. Gingerly, he placed you down on your own two feet, keeping one hand on your waist, he assured you were standing steady before he retreated his hand to rub the back of his neck.

His tone was sheepish as he started up again but his eyes never left yours, "I am so sorry, for... everything; for not listening to you or my aunties, for saying such harsh and untrue things to you. It was all lies and bullshit to make myself feel better about my idiotic decisions. I think I knew, back then, how stupid it was I-I just didn't want to admit I was wrong, that I could fall for such a imbecilic scheme." he ran a shaky hand down the length of his face. "I know how horrible the things I said to you were, and I can't imagine how hurt you must have been. I hate that I was so detestable while you were simply trying to help me and the things you were saying- I feel like I didn't even really hear them until you had left. please just know I am trying better these days, to listen to those around me, the people I care about..."

By the conclusion of his apology his posture had shrunken, his shoulders curling over. No matter ow appreciative of his apology you may have been seeing Ambrose shrinking in on himself was not something you could bare to watch so you moved silently to mirror his prior embrace, tucking his head into your chest. "Its okay Ro, I mean I was quite judgy. I could have bee-" he tugged himself away from you carefully before cupping your face in his hands. "No, please. There is nothing that you did, there was no part of this that was your fault and I cannot bare to think of you blaming yourself." His voice was hurried as he rushed through the words, but as he neared the end his voice changed, diminished into a tired whisper "So please, please just... don't." the final word was punctuated with a long kiss to your forehead, a tradition that was missed in the many years that had passed.

"Okay Ro, I won't, and thank you, truly, for your apology." You pull his head downwards so that his forehead rests on your own. "But now, please don't stress okay? We've lost enough time as it is" a sniffled hum did not satisfy as you pulled back, lifting his chin to force his eyes to meet your own as you raised a brow... "Seriously, Ambrose, let us not waste any more time. I forgive you, you daft idiot." Tugging his head down further you placed a kiss of your own to his forehead before stepping back. Clutching his hand in your own you tugged him towards his room eager to catch up on the years in-between.

Crashing onto the all too familiar cushions that lay always strewn across the floor, you struggled to pull your gaze from his form. In spite of spending over seventy years apart every spot and feature of his room remained the same, the only notable change lay in his presence, even while reclining in his own space he seemed to recede within himself. And yet reiterating your prior reassurance would surely be futile in the way of making him feel any more comfortable so you simply settled on acting as normal as you could manage.

"So... how is the coven fairing? I've heard your cousin is just as much trouble as we were in our day."

"Pssh, she is much worse than we could manage, but her intentions are better than ours were, much less trouble for troubles sake."

"Damn. speaking of trouble who took over after your uncle?" A dramatic and yet genuinely sour look came over his features as he spat out "Faustus Blackwood" as if the name itself was poisonous.

Your brows knitted together as did your lips as you pouted out an "Ew" Considering for a moment your next words were spoken in disbelief "Such a decision is inconceivable, what the what?"

"I agree my dear and yet..." his words trailed off for a moment before his enigmatic grin covered his face as it often did and he continued; "That was, of course, until Auntie Zelda took his position." His chest had puffed out at this point, clearly joyous to share the news. Your face was overtaken itself in a swarm of joy and outrage as you shot up from your seat as if determined to interrogate why Zelda had left that piece of major news out of your earlier conversation, this reaction of course only cause Ambrose's smile to grow impossibly wider.

A playful glare soon latched onto your features as you all but launched yourself into his arms, muttering out all sorts of childish insults in frustration as you pinched his cheeks, ending with a simple jibe of "Way to bury the lead Ro!"

Settling yourself on bringing the topic up later with the other Spellmans present you relented and tangled yourself alongside his limbs as you had done countless times, before you enquired instead as to his excursions after his house arrest had been lifted, at which point you were happily regaled with tales of dates, studies and adventures alongside his trouble-surrounded cousin.

Within what felt like a few moments, night had fallen and with it came the squealing of brakes and the scattering of gravel. Releasing a chuckle, you rose to your feet, lazily tugging Ambrose from the cushions and to your side as you started towards the foyer.

Only releasing his hand as you reached to tug open the door, glancing past the towering figure to the haphazardly parked car out front, you simply scoffed and cocked your head to the side. now looking up at the man if front of you as if confused by his lack of movement. Rocking back and forth on your heels you raised a mocking brow in his direction before jerking your head backwards into the house, all but inviting him in. Emphasis on the 'all but' as he remained stuck on the other side of the threshold. Sparing a glance to your side, you spotted Ambrose, his brows furrowed and his genuine confusion obvious as he looked between yourself and the blonde at the door.

Yet despite your gaze remaining on Ambrose you caught the briefest mutter of "bloody fuck" from the vamp, and turned your attention to him once again. "Well Spike, how was the casino? Lose all of our money already?"

An offended scoff fell from his lips as he fired back; "Course not love, Don't you trust me? Now come on, let's go inside ey?" drawing your face into a pinched expression you gazed to the sky in another bout of mocking consideration, you leave him hanging for an extended moment, until the sounds of the sisters entering the space drew all of your intention, apart from Ambrose who remained studying Spike who in turn met his gaze with a cocky wink.

It was almost laughable how fast the vampire's cocky and frustrated expression morphed into one of innocence as he greeted the women with flattery and kindness. It was just as you thought, the big softie was capable of not being a dick when it suited him best. Yet as soon as Hilda had invited him inside his smile briefly twisted into yet another one of his cockiest smirks as he shouldered past you.

"So you travel with our little one?"

"Yes, I am glad to say I do. And may I say thank you for lettin' me in. Someone was enjoying keeping me out in the cold."

"Troublesome as ever, I'm truthfully not surprised with all the chaos these two used to get into." Zelda mused as Hilda hummed in agreement;

"Always so cheeky these two"

Sharing a look with the man at your side as you rolled your eyes, you knocked your shoulder with his as you followed the other three from the door. Unsurprisingly Spike was arm in arm, flanked by both of the witches and that was pretty much how it remained from then on for the rest of the night as he regaled the women with adventures and stories of your travels, only pausing on occasion for your input as you lay, head resting on the shoulder of your old friend.

At that moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, and for tonight at least you wanted it to stay that way; complex feelings, bruised egos and ancient scars were an issue for tomorrow.

[shimisstuff]

The new cover inspired all of this, it’s not my fault 😭

18+ on Patreon

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

beauty and the beast is an incredibly tragic tale from the pov of the heroine, an enthusiastic monsterfucker who accidentally ends up in love with Just Some Guy

[dearausten]

not now sweetie, mommy is watching how the massive girlbossification of female characters has led to the belief that weak and vulnerable female characters are badly written characters because apparently every woman needs to be outspoken and witty and snarky and brave in order to be considered “complex” and have any value in a piece of media!!

[amaranthinespirit]

please PLEASE Can you write reader ovulating with Simon Riley, his dick would hurt by the end.

what happens to simon riley when you're ovulating (his dick would fall off if it were me tbh)

your sex life with simon is already active as is, so the moment you start ovulating, he's in trouble. serious trouble. you can barely keep yourself off of him. everything he does sends a throbbing want to your pussy.

manspreading? you're already on top of him, tugging his jeans down just enough to ride his heavy cock. his big hands find purchase on your hips, grunting lowly.

"fuckin' eager, huh?" he's only half hard by the time you're bouncing on him, and you don't get off until either of you can't speak, and you've ruined yet another pair of his jeans from the amount of slick and cum that stains the fabric.

rolling up his sleeves, seeing the way his forearms and veins flex? you're begging him to finger you, and he gladly listens.

"need me t'fuckin' fill ya full, don't ya?" bent over whatever surface of your house, stuffed full of his fingers knuckle deep as your walls clench around him. one orgasm isn't enough, two, three, four, five until you're babbling incoherently and spraying the front of his shirt with your release.

the thing men do when they reverse, placing one hand behind the passenger seat? belt, GONE. you make hasty work of his jeans just so you can suck his dick as he drives—bonus points if he's still reversing. half-way laid across the center console with a face-full of his throbbing cock, already leaking pre. he's a mess, whimpers spilling from his lips as he bites down on the plush flesh. he's pulling your panties to the side, burying three fingers deep in your cunt with ease at the sheer wetness of your pussy.

him, reading with glasses? you bet he isn't taking his eyes off a single page as he ruts into you from behind, book laid across your back slick with sweat. he might be a little mean, make you fuck yourself back on his dick, balls slightly slapping your clit enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. get a drop of cum on his book, and he'll punish you.

getting passionate about his interests? fuck in missionary so he can continue yapping as he toys with your clit and pounds into your throbbing cunt. his words are long lost on you—you don't even notice when his words start getting condescending.

"always gettin' in m'pants..." he grunts, the sound of skin slapping and mindless whimpers and mewls fill the room, "fuckin' slut, you tryin' to get pregnant? want me t'fill you? dirty whore..."

by the end of your ovulation phase, you might've definitely gotten knocked up, and his dick is no longer with us. (he still has his hands and face, ladies...)