#while a strange bloke

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

A man named Amr sits in the barber’s chair, telling a story of how a mysterious man saved him from a natural disaster,

while a strange bloke trims his hair and beard.

‘The storm rose from nowhere, and I had miles to trek to reach the city. Then, from out of the blue came this red box. From within, a man scattered the sand, ending the storm. This is how I met the Inspector.’

[ghostdrinkssoup]

seeing the weird boys you went to school with suddenly become weird men is deeply shocking

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)

Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.

Yet he feels completely out of control.

This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent months—months gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They don’t come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.

Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.

A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.

Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not dating—not anything—but somehow that doesn't matter.

His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.

Good. Fucking good.

You turn too, brow furrowed.

"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.

John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."

"Y—yes. Sir."

The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesn’t unclench his jaw.

What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? He’s a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.

Do you even realize he’s flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like there’s nothing amiss.

Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.

“You look right scunnered.” Soap appears at Kyle’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“That,” he growls.

Soap frowns, following Kyle’s line of sight. Soap’s frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. “Want Ghost to scare the shit out of him?”

The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they don’t comment on it.

“That would be great,” says Kyle flatly.

Soap lightly pats Kyle’s shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Lt!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. That’d be fucking brilliant,” murmurs Johnny.

"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,” replies Kyle.

"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"

"That’s fucking childish, Johnny,” mutters Simon.

Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.

He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.

The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.

You are not Johnny’s spouse. You are not dating. You are not his…anything.

But that hardly matters.

Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. He’s put his hands on your body. He’s been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.

He is so close to making you his.

No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)

"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."

Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hot—fierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.

It still hurts. Still aches.

The two of you are not together—not dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.

His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon weren’t ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldn’t be so bold.

"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.

Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.

"I'm doing this for you, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.

"She's mine."

"We know,” reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.

One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.

"Take a deep breath, Lt."

"I'm trying."

[hyperprosexia]

cw: 18+ | omegaverse au; a/b/o dynamics; sexism; curvy/fat!reader (some physical descriptions); strangers to lovers/mates; eventual smut

pairing: omega!soap x fem!alpha!reader

part I

it all takes but one glance at you and johnny doesn't know left from right anymore.

pair that with the captain's introduction of you being his new personal assistant and the 141's secretary and being a bloody alpha and johnny's whole being is in a sudden frenzy.

a female alpha he's rarely met one in his life.

most females serving in the military are betas. female alpha's choose different careers due to the military being a male dominated field, and everyone knows that female and male alphas don't get along most of the time.

or it takes lots of work and, in some cases, lots of fights for dominance to balance out a pack order and the cycle repeats itself until someone is transferred or, in the rarest of cases, someone gets injured.

but you don't look like a typical alpha, certainly don't smell or behave like one.

you look comically tiny next to captain price, his packs alpha, his leader. you look tame, well-mannered, friendly and... warm... soft.

he can barely imagine you in some feral alpha rut, and oh there goes his heart skipping a beat that leaves him straightening his stance, rolling his broad shoulders.

and as a male omega, johnny knows the struggles; he knows how difficult it is to look a certain way, but present another.

he doesn't look like an omega, doesn't behave like one. never has.

johnny isn't dainty nor soft or small. he's not some darling docile omega that alphas go wild for. he's a large bloke, rugged and strong, and before people get a dulled whiff of his scent through his scent suppressants, they usually take him for an alpha or even a beta.

the alphas he's met have always given him an ick, left him feeling anxious, weak, and with the need to flee and rather find comfort in solitude or with other omegas he trusted, like his sisters.

johnny gets lost in his thoughts until the captain dismisses everyone from the briefing, and suddenly, he's left alone in the room while you sort out some papers at the front desk.

ever the social one, he decides to approach you directly, despite his past experiences with strange alphas.

"john mactavish," he says, holding out his gloved hand confidently, "but everyone 'round here just calls me soap."

and as you look up at him through your lashes, lips splitting into a bright smile, his knees nearly go weak.

you take his hand and shake it firmly as you give him your name personally and with the right pronunciation, not like price had butchered it previously.

"aye," he replies, eyes glinting mischievously as they drink in your supple curves underneath your neat office skirt and blouse combo.

"soap's your callsign, i take it?" you ask with a curious adorable tilt of your head as you release his hand, and goddammit, johnny hopes your scent will stick to the fabric of his gloves, so he can sniff it later while stroking his pathetic omega cock.

he licks his teeth. the buttons of your white blouse look bloody near ready to pop; the lace of your white bra faintly imprinting through the thin fabric. his instincts are buzzing to life despite suppressants, and it's taking him off guard in your presence.

and then you chuff with a chuckle. "you don't smell like soap. definitely not like the military-issued kind."

oh. so you're a playful one.

his broad back straightens. not even trying nor bothering to make him submit. you're giving him space, treating him like a normal person rather than his secondary gender. that's new.

and he fucking hates it.

are you not interested in him like that? it's his omega wailing inside him for the first time since his youth, when everything was still new and foreign, and his first heats almost made him go mad without a bloody alpha to soothe him.

"ah i " he gulps. struggles to come up with something witty as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, causing your scent to drift to his nostrils. he inhales deeply.

it's not intrusive or sharp like alphas usually smell to him, but his breath stutters in his lungs anyway. you smell like the wildflowers one can find in the highlands, saccharine, spicy licorice schnaps, and burnt bark mulch.

his omega whines inside him, wants him to submit, to be good for you, to make you see what he could be for you. don't you want to smell him, too?

"are you okay, sergeant?"

he blinks and his dark lashes flutter as he peers down at you. fucking hell, your voice your concern. it's making his chest feel tight. what the bloody fuck is happening?

"aye, ah'm jus' "

you reach for his right hand and bring it up to your face, and johnny doesn't pull back like he usually would.

"it's fine," you reassure him as your thumb pushes the fabric of his tac glove to the side, exposing his small scent gland there. a shiver runs down his spine.

"you're just tired, hm?"

he swallows down a whine, grits his teeth to keep it together before he nods slowly.

"guess so," he rasps, sounding like he's spent the past week in the desert. thirsty... needy. "been a few tough months." years, really.

you hum understandingly. "may i?"

he nods again. john mactavish, lost for words, a bloody rarity.

he wonders if you're just doing this because of your duty as an alpha to soothe some poor, pathetic omega like him, or because you truly want to get to know him. he'd certainly prefer to believe the latter.

and then his breath hitches when your nose brushes over his scent gland the one that shouldn't feel as sensitive as it does right now. you're scenting him, getting to know him, and he almost purrs. almost.

you're absolutely gorgeous. everything he ever secretly craved in an alpha, and he's suddenly so aware of how ugly he is compared to other omegas.

an ugly scottish bugger.

his omega thrashes inside him, whines and snarls in distress, and his hand clutched in your gentle grasp, balls into a fist when his scent sours and your nose wrinkles.

you pull back, gaze up at him in question, still holding on to his wrist, but johnny doesn't have an answer for your unspoken words.

"dinnae know what ye're doin' to me."

all he knows is that he wants to be yours.

》 continue

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! Here's a new au for you all! Don't worry, I'm still going to be doing a part 3 for the Disir au, but this is something for you all while you wait! Enjoy! :D

This au takes place in a modern setting where Merlin has been waiting for Arthur for over 1500 years. Merlin believes that Arthur will rise directly from the lake, as Kilgharrah led him to believe, but in actuality, Arthur, Gwen, and all the knights were reincarnated and born into new lives without any memory of their past lives.

In this modern setting, Arthur's reincarnation, Arthur Penn, works for a top-secret task force in MI6, known as the Knights. The Knights are tasked with monitoring and hunting down dangerous otherworldly or supernatural threats.

The Knights task force was successful for many years, up until one fateful mission. The team was exploring a cave with high levels of strange radiation, which usually indicated strong supernatural forces. While they didn’t encounter anything in the cave, agent Lance DuLac got separated from the group somehow and was missing for several hours before they found him sitting in front of some crystals, seemingly entranced. 

While he was physically fine, Lance was never quite the same afterwards, having strange dreams or speaking in an unknown language at random. Since one of their best agents was left near-insane and they didn't even find anything, that mission was deemed a disaster, which led to the Knights getting disbanded by their superiors. 

After the Knights were disbanded, Arthur was put on several solo missions, hunting down supernatural creatures, but he eventually got a new mission. 

MI6 had been following and observing an entity known as Emrys for decades, ever since the 1930’s, when reports of an “immortal man” first reached intelligence agencies. 

Ever since Emrys's immortality and presence through history was confirmed, MI6 always had someone trailing him and documenting his actions. However, he had never shown any real threat to humanity despite his estimated power level sitting at that of a god’s. In fact, the only documented case of any sort of power from that they had observed in their 90 years of tailing him was during WWII, when a bomb was dropped over his little cottage and he made it disappear with a wave of his hand. 

Over the years, the post of watching Emrys had become the most laid-back and least threatening job in the entire supernatural department of MI6. After all, he had never hurt anyone in the entire time that they had watched him, so all an agent had to do was keep their distance and they’d be fine. Hell, it was practically a 9 to 5 job. It was, as far as jobs within the supernatural department went, extremely boring. 

Which made agent Arthur Penn extremely overqualified for the post. Unfortunately, agent Gwaine Greene, who had been assigned to Emrys post in the years following the Knights’ disbandment, had been running his mouth to their superiors that Arthur was too high strung and throwing himself into one dangerous mission after the next and needed a lighter mission to cool down. And, even more unfortunately, their superiors had listened to that loudmouth.

So now Arthur was being assigned to watch an old man for an unspecified amount of time. Yay, this was exactly what he hoped his career as an agent at MI6 would look like. Agent coordinator Gwen Smith gave him his debrief, showing him the extensive file that MI6 had on Emrys, his abilities, his routine, and his alternate appearances, because apparently this bloke could change his age as well. 

So, Arthur begins his new assignment with a generally bad attitude, but he still performs his duties. Arthur tails Emrys, during which time Emrys mostly sticks to the routine that Gwen had showed him: walking around a nearby lake every morning, then going into town for lunch and to chat with locals about mundane things like the weather, going back home, reading and writing and cooking and cleaning, and then going to bed. Rinse and repeat. 

However, as the weeks go by, Arthur notices something… strange. All the previous agents who had post had reported that, even if he knew they were trailing him, Emrys never really paid them much attention. A passing glance or a knowing smile perhaps, but never anything overt. A few years ago, one agent even made the bold move of having a drink next to Emrys in a pub, and Emrys had only asked him if he was "off the clock". If Emrys was upset about being followed, he certainly didn't show it.

So this? This had never happened to any of the other agents watching Emrys before.

A few weeks into his new post, Emrys had started… staring at Arthur. The stares were accompanies by an unnerving feeling, like Arthur was an insect pinned against a microscope. Like Emrys was looking into Arthur very soul and judging him for something. 

The feeling of being watched by Emrys made the hairs of the back of Arthur's neck rise, just like whenever he was facing down monsters that looked like they crawled out of humanity's worst nightmares. He was the one supposed to do the watching, not the other way around!

After only three days of Emrys's petrifying stares, Arthur decided to go back to headquarters and give them an update. If Emrys's behavior had changed so suddenly, it might be a sign that the entity was planning something bigger, and they needed to be prepared for anything the immortal could throw their way.

Arthur's paranoia at being watched must have really gotten to him over the past few days though, because for the entire trip back to London, he swore he could see glimpses of Emrys out of the corner of his eyes. But every time he whirled around to see if Emrys truly was following him, there was nothing there. Besides, Emrys had never once left that little town by the lake in over 90 years. Why would he leave now?

Arthur arrived back at headquarters by the end of the day, and he quickly arranged a meeting with his superiors. If Emrys was plotting something, the entire supernatural division had to go on high alert.

About halfway through through the meeting, however, the lights started to flicker and the entire building started to shake, as if a massive earthquake was happening. Everyone sprang into action, weapons in hand and ready for any attack, but Arthur's eyes went wide with panic. He knew, somehow, what- or who- was behind this.

Sure enough, a guard burst into the room a couple second later, yelling about how Emrys was in the lobby making demands and shaking the earth with his anger.

Arthur and his bosses ran out to the lobby and were met with a horrible sight: Emrys standing at their front door with the guards' weapons disintegrating before they could even take aim at him.

"I will not ask you again. Where is he?"

Emrys's voice was more impatient than furious, but the threat of his power was more than enough to send a shover down everyone's spine, Arthur's most of all. Because while his superiors and fellow agents were frantically whispering to each other, trying to figure out who Emrys could be referring to, Arthur knew. There was only one mortal Emrys had shown any interest in over the past 90 years, after all.

"He's after me." The whispering of the agents around Arthur ceased as a horrified hush fell over the group. "I don't know why, but he's looking for me."

The agents around him shared a look, which slowly morphed from terrified to determined.

"Then we have to make sure he doesn't get to you," Gwaine said, uncharacteristically solemn. "Whatever reason he wants you for, it can't be good for anyone."

The other agents around them nodded and murmured in agreement, even as their voices were quickly drowned out by the rumbling of the building around them and the sounds of gunfire and screams behind them.

Suddenly, Lance, who had been silent the entire time, cut in.

"I know a back way out of the building. I can sneak Arthur through the back and escape to a safehouse, somewhere Emrys can't find us."

"No, absolutely not. I won't run away and leave you all to fight-"

"Arthur." Gwen's voice cut off his denial. "For all we know, if he gets his hands on you, he could become even more dangerous. Please, if not for your sake, then for everyone's: don't let him get to you."

Arthur swallowed thickly, holding back tears. Lance looked at him, his face growing more and more panicked as the sounds of conflict grew closer and closer to their hiding spot.

"Alright, I'll go, but I expect to see all of you when I get back. You told me not to let him get ahold of me, but the same goes for all of you: no dying on me today, got it? Especially not to some ancient bloke."

His friends smiled and nodded at him, and Lance took his arm and started leading him through the building, running down narrow hallways and darkened corridors until they reached a small, hidden exit on the side of the building, disguised among the building's brick exterior. The two of them burst out of the building into the adjacent alleyway, out of breath from their frantic sprint.

"Alright, where to now? How do we get to this safehouse of yours?"

Lance turned to face Arthur, but there was something strange about him. His face looked oddly conflicted and... guilty?

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"What? Lance, what are you-"

Arthur froze as a figure stepped into entrance to the alley, blocking the only escape route. Arthur's hands reached for his gun, but he froze as two burning golden eyes stared into his soul.

And then, the world around him went dark.

I hope you all enjoyed this au! To clarify, Lance was trapped in the crystal cave and saw his memories of his past life as Lancelot, which led to him seeking out Merlin and forming a plan with him to get Arthur assigned to Emrys watching post so that Merlin could take Arthur to the crystal cave and finally reunite with his king.

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[revelboo]

not a request but just wanted to let you know that bc of you I got into blokees and now I’m obsessed with them. Already got three on the way and they look so cute and the bigger figures look amazing!!! Got tfone sentinel, Optimus and Megatron but I’m eyeing g1 prowl and ratchet 👀 literally cant wait until they release one Starscream gods what have you done to me

All part of my evil master plan- get you guys to buy them so the company has to release more, new figures.

Inside Out Pt 3

TFO Starscream x Reader

• Why does it twist like a blade through his spark when you cringe away from him, a wrongness that chafes at him. Makes him want to reach out to you, soothe away the fear that he caused. It’s irrational, insane. Wings flicking up aggressively, he draws back anyway. Giving you space not so you’ll calm down, but because he wants to. Because whatever this is can’t control him, he won’t let it. He doesn’t want this, but can’t deny the urge to reach out even as he curls his servos under into fists so he won’t. “Just let me go,” you whisper, eyes shiny. “Please.” That broken plea hurts him, but also steels his resolve.

• Jaw working as he looms over you, those wings on his back fidget in little flicks. “Why would I do that?” He growls, an arm lifting, servos reaching to send your heart racing in panic. But stopping short of touching you with those servos curled almost around you, almost caging you, and to your horror there’s the urge to close that distance. Put yourself willingly in his hand. You don’t dare move, holding your breath. “You’re mine for as long as I decide to keep you.” Those words are soft, almost deceptively tender as a single servo reaches and touches your chest, slides along your throat to tip your chin up forcing you to meet his optics. Hating that his touch settles something inside you, that you want to lean into that touch as those optics narrow at you. Hating yourself and him for doing this to you.

• His words are possessive, a claim that rings in his spark. While he may not understand what this strange sense of connection is, that sense of belonging and familiarity that comes from touching you is almost intoxicating. Singing through his spark that everything will be fine, that all’s well. And your eyes are shiny, head turning away and almost against his will he reaches to stroke the tip of a servo over your cheek to wipe the tears away when they fall and he knows he’s in trouble. Feeling your little hand on him, trying to push him away, then just hanging on to his servo like you’re as helpless as he is, pressing your face against him as his spark constricts. “I don’t want this,” you whisper. Neither does he, but there’s no letting you go. He can’t lose this sense of belonging. Needs this, because it’s been so long since there’s been any sense of home. Since Cybertron was lost.

• Big servos curl around you, lifting you. There’s no fighting his grip as he lifts you and cradles you against him, his warmth and that connection spilling through you, overwhelming as you relax against your will. Feeling safe, even though you know you’re not. Just wanting to cling to him, to the trap of safety and belonging even knowing it’s a lie. “Hate me all you like, little one,” he says, rasping voice rumbling through you as a servo slides against your spine. “Despise me and rage, but you’re mine to keep.”

Previous

Next

[elexaria]

price has a very strange relationship with simon. absolutely loves him to bits, dont get me wrong. but he can’t help but feel a weird pang of jealousy every now and then. hes a complex bloke too, but you dont see him brooding around on missions! i think a part of him sees simon as a younger john price, or even an extension of himself in some ways.

he gets his boxer briefs in a twist when simon invites the lads round his place for some drinks, and his eyes practically bulge out of his head when he sees mrs riley. she’s absolutely gorgeous, a 10 doesn’t even summarises her beauty enough.

my god. she’s like an oasis in the fucking desert, and he cant not stare every chance he gets. the sight of her wearing a cute apron as she puts batches of party food into the oven has his romantic heart racing so fast. he clenches his jaw when he catches simon’s hand at the small of her back, the cute giggles and kissing making him sour up. simon’s not a man like price.

pricey could definitely take care of her better. if she was mrs price, she’d barely be able to be productive with him around, having her apron lifted up for easy access as price slips his cock inside of her while the lads are too busy guffawing and roaring with laughter to even notice :(

[cillianhead]

Red Eyes || Cillian Murphy x Reader

summary: You and Cillian take a plane trip and a certain Jackson Rippner steals his spot.

PART TWO to A New Pair Of Glasses

put my vibrator on and smoked a j and then wrote away on this one so i'm so very sorry if it is bad or strange or something.

Enjoy my lovely readers <3

warnings: SMUT!!, unprotected p in v, DUBCON AND NONCON THEMES!!!, Daddy kink, vulgar language, swearing, choking, car/airplane sex / public sex, tight spaces, handjobs, oral sex (f and m receiving + reader sucks on his balls?!), slapping, spitting, claustrophobia, roleplay (Cillian is roleplaying as Jackson Rippner), some mentions of subspace/being in subspace sort of, some more dacryphilia, degradation, overstimulation, talks of FAKE! Explosives and talks of FAKE! plane crashes, biting, fake cheating scenarios, vibrators, and general adult content!!!

LONG FIC!!

18+ MINORS DNI

Standing in the crowded airport, you leaned against Cillian for support as you waited in line to check in your bags for your flight. You were going on a trip to New York, and the flight would be almost eight hours.

"How are you feeling, love?" Cillian whispered, subtly kissing your neck. "You nervous about our flight?" "I feel a little nervous... yeah..." You nodded, smiling softly up at him. "But we'll be fine... just... you know how I get..."

"It's alright, I'll be right there with you... the whole time," He hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder. The line was long and the waiting was tedious but at least you had the comfort of your boyfriend beside you.

After checking in and waiting for your flight, which wasn't for another hour and a half, Cillian and you decided to stroll along the airport stores, hand in hand.

"What's happening with that interview you have tomorrow?" You asked, leaning on him a bit.

"Oh... erm... I've forgotten his name..." Cillian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's literally something I had written down 'cause I t'aught it was funny..." Cillian groaned. "Oh... it was some bloke literally called Neil Lewis... some American guy..."

"No way," You laughed loudly, and Cillian looked at you, grinning fondly. "That's awesome, what's the interview even for?"

"I betcha a million bucks it's gonna be like sumn' about like..." He said these words while painting the air with his hands to make imaginary captions. "Neil Lewis.... and how he would react to different characters of mine..." He snickered and you laughed.

"That's a fun idea, though! Neil Lewis has always been a sweet spot of mine..." You sighed dreamily. You remembered when you and Cillian had first started talking and were only really doing all that sugar daddy stuff; you watched 'Watching The Detectives' for the first time. Of course, you hadn't seen all the Batman films at that point. You saw Inception when you were high and in some guy's Mom's garage and weren't comprehensive of what was happening except for when that one really sexy guy, Robert Fischer, showed up. That's when the movie had your attention. The guy was kissing your neck, and suddenly Robert showed up, and you didn't give a single shit about how hot the guy kissing you was; you'd look at the TV and moan louder than you did before. Neil Lewis had really awakened something else inside of you, though.

Something a little more tender.

He was just so cute, and as Violet said, 'You're like the sweetest guy I've ever met' (or something along those lines). You were sitting in a cute new little nightgown Cillian had bought you (oh, and a new vibrator with his initials carved in the middle). It was Valentine's Day, and unfortunately, he was in America shooting a film, and he wouldn't be back until the 17th. You were bratty and whiny, but you were grateful, and he knew that; you just liked to get sassy. You put on the romcom, an obvious choice as to why you picked it.

'Watching The Detectives' Starring Lucy Liu and Cillian Murphy.

You were already riled up when you saw him in the opening shot, but as time went on, you grew increasingly jealous of Violet and more in love with Neil Lewis, thus falling in love with Cillian Murphy. You remember calling Cillian up, despite the time difference, and rambling on about how cute he was in the movie.

Anyway... as you walk through the airport together and look at each other with your blazing love. Cillian lovingly kissed you on your forehead as you walked back to your gate.

"So about this flight..." Cillian cleared his throat after you walked along quietly.

"Yeah?" You hummed, tearing your eyes away from the cute dress you saw in one of those window stores and looked to Cillian with a grin.

"I won't be... erm... boarding on with you," Cillian cleared his throat. "I'm sitting in a different part of... de.... er... plane."

"What?!" You exclaimed, eyes widening and grabbing onto his arm tightly as you two swayed along. "What do you mean, Cill?"

"This flight is quite packed... and so I couldn't manage to fit us together so... yer gonna be in first class while I'm in coach..."

"What? Cillian? No... y-you take first class... you need it more than me..." You were pouting at him with the most pitiful eyes.

"No, baby... it's okay," Cillian hushed. "I'm sure you're gonna meet some guy in first class... who you can pretend is me..."

"I would never do that," You whispered, shaking your head insistently as you fiddled with the red ruby around your neck, thinking about Jonathan Crane. "Why would you say that?"

"It's okay, baby... you'll be able to sleep..." Cillian and you walked into a quiet little cafe. "They'll wake you right before we land... I doubt you'll be sittin' next to anyone since you're in first class..."

"Cillian... why didn't you tell me this sooner?" You whined, sitting down right beside him and clinging onto him while you still can.

"'Cause I know you'd never come if you realized we won't be sittin' together..."

"That's a fair point..." You mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder.

After sitting for a while and sipping the teas you had gotten from the airport coffee shop, it was time to board the plane. You wrapped your arms around Cillian and kissed him passionately.

"I'm gonna miss you so much... Cill..." You whispered against his lips breathily.

"I know, baby," He hummed, stroking your hair. "You're gonna do so good for me... you can handle it... I love you so much..."

"I love you..."

You couldn't dare look back as you walked off with just the weight of your onboard bag. You found your seat... and fuck, it was nice, you had plenty of legroom, and you could even push your headrest back so you could lie down. You watched people start to board the rest of the plane, waiting to see Cillian walk past, but he never did. You sighed and rested back in your seat, buckling up for the takeoff that always made you anxious.

"...F7... F8... Oh, here we go..." You heard an American accent from behind you and turned to look Cillian in the eyes. He had styled his hair differently and was wearing a completely different outfit from what he was wearing before. Cillian smirked as he coldly approached, and you realized what he was doing. He was being Jackson. Honestly, you had completely forgotten about that conversation you two had and didn't expect Cillian to follow through with it. "Oh, hello, seems we're sitting together?" He gave you a strange smile as he sat beside you and smirked. "The name's Jackson..." He reached out his hand for you to shake.

"Oh... it's... it's Y/N..." You smiled, playing along. It was unnerving the way he moved and spoke. It was truly like it was just another person who happened to look exactly like Cillian. Jackson shook your hand with a nod before receding back into his chair beside you.

The flight took off, and you clutched onto your seat for dear life, trying to ignore the feeling of having Jackson's eyes on you the whole time.

"You're a very pretty girl..." He hummed once you were in the air and could unbuckle yourself, looking at you with a tilted head and lustful eyes. "You got a boyfriend?" He asked as if he were interested.

"Y-Yes..." You nodded, feeling flustered, playing along with a hidden grin.

"Aw... that's a shame," He cooed mockingly. "If only he had been here... to protect you..."

"Wh-What?" You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, laughing nervously. He just shook his head, scratching at his stubbly chin.

"Oh, don't worry," He reassured, mocking your trembling lip with a pout of his own. "I'm gonna take good care of you... sweetheart..."

"How... how...?" You stammered.

"You stupid slut," He spat, rolling his eyes at how pathetic you were. "You know how I'm gonna take care of ya..." Jackson's mouth got real close to your ear as he spoke the words, "I'm gonna fill that perfect little pussy with my seed..." He hissed.

"No... you can't... please..." You whimpered. About five or six people were sitting in the first-class cabin, yet luckily, none were sitting in front of you or behind you. "My boyfriend's in the... other cabin..."

"Oh, I know all about your little boyfriend... in fact... in the left pocket of his jacket... you see... I've been taking some sewing classes... and I was in your room one night while you were there, and he wasn't..." He laughed dryly, licking his teeth as he sucked in more air to speak. Your eyes were wide with horror and dismay... yet your legs squeezed together with arousal. "Anyway... as I was saying, in the pocket in his jacket is a tiny... yet very powerful explosive..."

"Wh-What...?" You panicked, speaking a bit too loudly. Jackson slapped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"If you don't do everything I say, I've got the remote here in my pocket and this whole fuckin' plane will go down over the Atlantic," He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. "Do you hear me, bitch? I'm an impatient man. You're going to do every fuckin' thing I tell you to do or say bye-bye to your boyfriend and the death of everyone on this fuckin' plane..."

You nodded your head desperately, tears slipping down your cheeks. He pulled his hand off of your mouth and wiped your spit off his hand with your shirt. "I understand..."

"Good," He said gruffly, checking his watch. "They won't be bringing out any of the meals for another hour, so I say we have a little... fun while we wait for our meals... and then, of course... there'll be dessert after our dinner..." Jackson smirked.

"We'll get caught... we'll get in trouble," You protested, tucking your knees up into your chest.

"Oh babydoll, don't you know what I do for a living?" He snarked, flashing his sharp teeth at you in that cold, threatening smile. "I know how to do many things... and not get caught..." He whispered into your ear, biting at your neck. "Now open your legs for me. I'm gonna put this cute little vibrator in your pussy, do you understand?" "Al-Alright..." You slowly opened your legs. Your shorts were loose and thin, so you felt him slip his fingers up your thighs and in through the sides of your underwear.

"Fuck, you're soaking for me, princess..." He panted in your ear as he easily pressed two fingers into your cunt. "Doesn't that boyfriend of yours treat you well enough?" He teased. "I wasn't expecting you to be this turned on... I bet he doesn't make you cum enough, is that it?" His fingers began massaging your already sensitive G-spot.

"O-Oh... god..." Your head fell low as he continued panting in your ear, clearly getting affected by how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you. His cock strained against his tight sweatpants. "Jackson..."

"Wow, you gave in to that easily," He laughed, and you felt ashamed at how good you were feeling and how hard you were trying not to make much noise. It was good. The lights were quite dim since it was an overnight flight... everyone else was asleep or had their earbuds in. "You've gotta stay quiet, don't make me gag you," He demanded quietly as you saw the small pink vibrator that perfectly sucked on your throbbing clit. He slipped it into your underwear and turned it on... it was dead silent, but you could feel the intense vibrations. "Look at you, squirmin' for me, and that's only the first setting." His American accent was sickening and impossibly sexy.

"Jackson... I can't... it's too much," You dug your fingernails into the leather seats, clenching your teeth together. Your pussy quivered as he slipped his left hand into your underwear and covered you in a blanket provided to first-class flyers. Anyone walking by wouldn't even notice where his hand placement was. "I'm too... sensitive... it's too much, Daddy..." You whined, pressing your face into his shoulder and biting down on the material of his coat to quieten your stifled moans.

"Wow, look at that, I've got you calling me daddy..." He snorted, leaning back in his chair as he finger-fucked you and turned up the setting on your vibrator that sent crippling waves of pleasure through you. "Bet your real daddy wouldn't be too happy to hear that sweetheart..."

"You're not... you're not my daddy... it was a mistake..." You mewled quietly.

"I am right now, sweetheart," He took a whiff of your hair and bit back a groan. He was so turned on right now, and he wanted to drag you into the bathrooms and fuck you right now, but he wanted to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible. "I'm your daddy, say it... I'm gonna fuck you so much better than your daddy... gonna show you how a real man likes to fuck."

You caved in on yourself, squirming further into a ball as your entire body tensed. Your pussy clenched onto his fingers. Every time he flicked them out of you, a quiet yet distinct squelch of your arousal would be heard. Your orgasm lit you on fire, and he didn't slow down. In fact, his fingers moved even more precisely against your G-spot, causing you to croak and bury your face in your hands. You saw stars as you gushed around his fingers, and Jackson showed no signs of stopping as you came down from your high.

"Jackson... stop... stop it..." You cried, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts!"

"Oh, shut up, you spoiled brat," He grumbled, continuing to fuck you brutally with his talented fingers. "I saw what you did with that little doctor last week," He chuckled. "Your blinds are never closed... anyone passing by could see you whoring yourself out to other men..."

"Jackson, please... I just... I just need a break..." You whispered, flinching every time he massaged your spongy walls. He slowed down his fingers just a bit, it was enough to give you some relief.

"Does your daddy know about what you did with that doctor?" Jackson chuckled. "Imagine when he finds out about that... and finds out about... what you did with me on the plane..." He was getting off on your tears of guilt. "What a shame..." He whispered. "Especially since this means he'll have to cancel the reservation at that restaurant where... I'm pretty sure I saw him out shopping... the same day you fucked your doctor... could he have possibly bought a ring?" Jackson laughed mischievously. It would sound like someone told a funny joke to anyone else but to you... it was bloodcurdling at the realization of what he was implying.

"N-No..." You whispered, clutching at his wrist to slow him down.

"Would you have married him, or are you too much of a whore to settle down?" You could tell there was a deeper meaning in that question. Obviously, he was still playing along with the character. But you realized he wanted to know if you were ready for him to propose.

"Of... of course, I would have... I want to spend my whole life with him..." You whispered. "I... I... he doesn't have to know about what happened between my doctor and I..."

"I'll keep my mouth shut," He smiled with a rosy blush on his cheeks... burning through his cold demeanor. He grabbed a hold of you and kissed you sloppily, tongues and spit clashing together. He made out with you as he picked up the speed, and he was probably playing a dangerous game here by reaching up and groping at your tits. But the plane was dead silent, and he was getting desperate.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." You whimpered as he ran soft circles over your shirt, perfectly teasing your hard nipples. "I'm... cumming...." You whispered, arching your back into his hands, and you heard the familiar sound of him clicking the button to turn the vibrator up. You quietly thrashed around as he milked you for all you had.

"That's it... make even more of a mess all over my fingers..." He cooed, watching you throw your head back with your vision going black. "Such a fucking slut..." He grunted as he pulled his sticky fingers out from your underwear and popped them in his mouth. You watched, still mewling and squirming around with pleasure as you came. He closed his eyes and groaned with satisfaction as he licked his fingers clean. "Open your mouth,"

Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, and he grabbed your jaw roughly and spat onto your tongue. You moaned at the taste.

"Swallow it, bitch," He barked quietly, turning off the vibrator and slipping it back into his pocket. You had no idea how he managed to get that thing through checkage, but right now, you were too fucked out to care. "That's it..." He sighed happily as you gulped his spit down.

"Jackson..." You whispered, chest rising rapidly. "Need a break..." Jackson scoffed. "You're not gettin' one, princess," He chuckled darkly in your ear. "Right now, you're gettin' up and going into that bathroom there..." He points to the first-class bathroom. "And in five minutes, I will follow in after you... and you're going to take my cock... like a good girl..."

You opened your mouth to protest but he looked away with a firm nod of his head. "Go on, Y/N, or I'll fuck you right here."

You hurriedly stood up on shaky legs, smoothing out your shorts, and tried your best to act casual as you made your way to the tiny stall at the end of the aisle. Jackson's eyes burnt holes in the back of your head. You glanced back at him momentarily to see him smirking at you devilishly.

The bathroom was small and tight, but it was enough to fit you in it {almost} comfortably. The following five minutes were long and torturous as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your once neatly combed hair was now messed up like you had just gotten out of bed. Anxiously and insensibly, you looked over yourself in the mirror, making sure you looked good and fuckable for your boyfriend. Two soft raps were heard in your stall.

"It's me," Jackson mumbled. "Let me in."

You quickly unlocked the door, and just as quickly as it opened, it was closed and locked. Jackson didn't say a word; he just grabbed you by the throat and pushed you up against the wall. Fuck, it was cramped in here with the two of you. He immediately latched himself onto your neck and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to stop you from crying as his hands worked to undoing your top and bra.

"Fucking hell, of course you've got perfect tits," Jackson groaned, lowering his mouth even more to pop your nipples into his mouth. Jackson's mean glare relaxed into shut eyes and furrowed brows of concentration. He moaned into your tits as he now slid down your shorts til you were just in your shorts and your blouse was wide open. "Whore..." He growled demeaningly as he was now face to face with your throbbing cunt. "Look how wet your panties are..." He whispered, tracing his fingers along your clothed slit. "This all for me?" He smirked as he pushed your panties to the side and kissed your clit.

"Oh... oh... god... J-Jackson..." You whined breathily, pushing your hands into his hair as he sucked on your clit like it was a cherry lollipop. His lips sucked harshly on your bud as his tongue slipped down and lapped your arousal up. His mouth was sinfully talented, and with the impending pleasure, you squeezed his head with your quivering thighs. "Fuck... you eat my pussy so good... fuck... oh..." You were giving it everything you had to not scream as he slipped two fingers into your juice-gushing cunt.

You were simply the sweetest of them all. Cillian grew high off of the way you tasted. It was like no other, truly incomparable to anything. None of the ripest and sweetest fruits could even begin to beat the taste of you. He'd happily die right here with your pussy in his mouth and the sound of your pretty sighs. Despite the deafening grip your thighs had on his skull, he was reveling in the way he was completely wrapped up in you. Like you were a spider luring in prey, and now you've caught it. But let's not forget who's in charge here... of course, it's Jackson. He's not eating pussy to get her off. He's eating pussy to get himself off. It doesn't matter if she screams or cries for him to stop. If that's what he wants, he'll drink her up like the essence of life for the rest of time. And oh, how good your fucked out pussy tasted. Jackson made you cum over and over again on his tongue until you were sobbing and trying to shove him away from you, but you were so fucking dizzy and still in the middle of cumming, so you had the strength of a twig.

"Pl-Please... Jackson..." You mewled, tugging on the roots of his hair to get him off of your pounding cunt. "It's too much... please... it's too much... fuck... stop... please!"

Tears were streaming down your face, and with your blurred vision, you looked down to see Jackson's newly opened ice-cold eyes staring straight up at you. You had seen that look from him a million times. You knew how much Cillian loved eating your pussy, and at this point, it wasn't even about being his character but enjoying the feeling of your heavenly sex in his mouth. The look in his eyes was identical to what a blood-drunk beast would look like as it devoured its unwilling and innocent victim. His pupils were blown wide, and his nostrils flared at the sight of your overstimulated tears. And this only made his cock that much harder.

"I'm serious, stop... please..." You whimpered, eyes falling in and out of focus. It truly felt like he was consuming you. "F-Fuck... you've had enough... please... Jacks... Jackson..." Your head falls back as you dissociate from reality. The confined space of being in this airplane bathroom with him wasn't helping with the overstimulation. Jackson had you cornered, as a predator would with its prey, and there truly was nowhere else for you to go from here.

"Alright..." He panted, lips smeared in cum and arousal as well as his own spit. "Time for me to fill you with my fucking babies."

"Just need a break... please... I need a break..." You wheezed, leaning against the wall for support. "Please... Jackson... I don't think I can handle it..."

"Oh, but that's not what your cute little pussy is saying... is it now?" He purred, spreading your folds open with two lazy fingers to peek at the sight of your dripping hole. "I'm fucking you whether you like it or not, princess... don't fucking deny me of what I'm so fucking entitled to..." He growled as he manhandled you into being in a more bent over position. You were completely helpless to him now. "If you even make a noise, I swear to god..." He huffed as he shoved your now discarded panties into your mouth to gag you. You let your head hang low with shame as you heard him undo his belt and zipper. "You're gonna enjoy this, I know you are," He whispered condescendingly into your ear, swiping a falling teardrop off of your cheek and licking it off of his thumb.

Your eyes squeezed shut as he poked at your entrance with the thick head of his cock, slowly teasing it in and out. Not enough to honestly give you anything, but just enough to rile you up. You pressed your ass back into his hips, and he willingly slipped in his cock. Despite how overstimulated you were just moments ago... your pussy changed its mind and decided it needed cock like your entire life depended on it.

"Look at that," He cooed as he slowly rutted his dick in and out of you. "I didn't think you'd fit so snugly around my cock. I thought you were gonna be a loose whore based on all the men you sleep with..." He said, and you mumbled through your cotton panties, but it barely made a sound. "Fuck... I see why he wants to marry you now..." Jackson hissed as he began truly pistoning his cock in and out of you. The wet noises were disgustingly loud, and anyone walking past could hear what was happening and immediately be suspicious. As well as the sound of his hips clapping with your ass as he fed you with his cock. Your mind was completely blank, like a loading screen almost the feeling of his dick was the only thing that mattered to you, your mind barely perceiving anything else.

The claustrophobia you felt before was non-existent, and it no longer was clear to you that you were literally in an airplane bathroom. You felt like you genuinely just were made to be fucked in the best way possible. Only by Cillian, of course... or well... uh... Jonathan... or Jackson...

"Excuse me?!" A knock from the outside pulled you out of your dumb whore state and made you look back at Jackson with a panicked expression. "How much longer are you gonna be in there? I really need to use this bathroom!"

"Too bad, wait for another one," Jackson grunted to the unwanted customer. "I'm gonna be a while."

"For fuck's sake..." The stranger grumbled before you heard the sound of them waddling away.

"You heard that?" Jackson growled in your ear, piercing your G-spot with every thrust of his hips. "I'm gonna take my sweet time with you, princess..." He moaned, hips trembling a bit at how good it felt to fuck you like this. The thrill of doing this was also an aphrodisiac to this situation, only fueling the fire. Of course, you'd done sneaky little things like this with Cillian before, but nothing this... outrageous... this risky. "How will your boyfriend feel about getting back to your hotel to find you full of another man's cum?" Jackson was groaning quietly. He was on the edge of bursting inside of her, but he wanted to hold on just a little longer. "He's not gonna be very happy, hmm?" He laughed at your tears, feeling the way you squeezed around him and told him you were starting another orgasm. And holding on to the edge was getting much harder for Jackson... with the way your cunt was absolutely trying to milk him for his cum.

"Mmmphhff!!" You moaned through your cotton gag, now soaked in your spit. Jackson laughed at the sounds you were making. He grabbed ahold of you by your hair while also keeping a steady grip on your lower back to keep you in place. He yanked on your hair like you were just a doll and looked at your big red eyes, sore from all the crying.

"Keep on cryin' like that, baby," He huffed, squinting his eyes on your orgasmic face. "Gonna spill my load into you cause of how fucking pretty you look when you cry..."

You cried in shame and embarrassment but also in pure pleasure that he was making you feel with his cock alone. You felt the hot spurts of cum begin to fill you up, and with that sensation alone, you felt yourself coming undone again. Jackson used you like a fleshlight, painting the inside of you white with his seed and getting off on how fucking pathetic you looked with tears smeared all over your face as well as your tits hanging out of your top. He looked away from your wet face to your coincidentally gushing pussy. He had never seen you so wet before, and his cock slid in and out of you like a waterslide. His cum was spilling out of you as his orgasm intensified at the beautiful sight of what his cock was doing to you.

"Shit," He hissed. His movements were sloppy, but it didn't matter to you because you had pretty much left this realm with how fucked-out you were. "Fuck, I need you to have my kids," He cried out, and you noticed that little bit of Irish slip out in his shaky voice. "Need to see ya pregnant... and fuck... fuckin' plump with my baby in ya... and... everyone will know who you fuckin' belong to..." Cillian whimpered, his hands now on both of your hips as he stilled himself completely. He shot the last squirts of cum deep into your womb.

He panted heavily as he remained inside of you. You both came down from your highs collectively. He slowly pulled out of you and that softness that lingered in the air immediately dissipated as he pushed you roughly down on your knees, face smushed against his wet cock.

"Lick me clean, slut," He commanded, hand placing your head firmly against his cock. "Want to see how good you are with your mouth."

You closed your eyes as you sucked off his cock. He was biting his lip to keep in the soft moans. His cock was still highly sensitive, but fuck... the feeling of you licking and sucking on him like he was a lollipop or some kind of sweet treat. He watched you with hooded eyes as you kissed down his clean shaft, now only coated in your saliva. Your lips wrapped around one of his balls, and swirled your tongue around them softly. He let out a loud gasp, growing properly hard again at the feeling of your mouth on his balls.

"Fuck... open your mouth... I'm gonna cum again... fucking hell..." Jackson grumbled, pushing you off of him and stroked his cock with his tip on your tongue. "I want you to swallow every last drop..."

"Yes... sir..." You nodded obediently, mouth watering, ready for the taste of his cum on your tongue.

With one last groan, he released his sperm into your waiting mouth. "Oh... fuck... princesss..." He sighed, cum spilling from your full mouth. As you tried to gulp it all down. His cock twitched a few more times before he stopped and pulled away, panting for air.

You licked your cum-covered lips and chin, smiling dopily like you were stoned. He tucked himself carefully back into his underwear and did his pants and belt back up, all while smirking at you.

"Jackson..." You whispered, melting to the floor after putting your underwear back on.

"Cillian, now, love," He whispered, crouching before you to help you back onto your feet. "You did so good for me... I'm so in love with ya..." He kissed along your face, holding you in his arms. "It's okay... baby girl, I'm right here," You buried your face in his neck and breathed heavily. You stood there while hugging until Cillian was fully dressed and stepped out. You waited it out in there for a little longer. You looked at yourself with red eyes and a dazed expression on your face. What had just happened to you, if anyone were to see you, was pretty clear. So as you slipped out of the bathroom, you didn't notice the two air hostesses watching you leave the bathroom that reeked of sex and cum now.

Cillian was sitting calmly, reading a book, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were full of love and also a look of concern.

"You alright, baby?" He hummed, stroking your hair affectionately. You nodded and pushed your face into his soft shirt, whining. "What is it? Did I hurt you too much?" He whispered with knitted eyebrows.

"N-No... daddy..." You whispered and he knew immediately what was wrong.

"Oh... baby," He hummed, quickly realizing you could push the armrest between you up, and he did just that, scooting closer to you and pulling your legs over his lap to cradle you more. "You sweet thing... you did so good for me," He praised lovingly, leaning down and kissing you softly. The position was a little suggestive to onlookers but not quite enough to necessarily get you in any trouble. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," He whispered with your spit drenching his lips, teeth, and chin. "Best girl... my best girl," He muttered before placing wet, sloppy kisses on the crowns of your forehead. "I love you..."

"I love you... Cill..." You smiled sleepily up at him, pussy mildly throbbing as you looked up at him. You just felt heavy with love and primal desire. It was hard to even focus on what you were saying or doing. Too preoccupied with taking in everything Cillian was doing. In a way, it was as if you were feeling everything he was feeling as if you had become one in mind and soul, both just existing, eternally connected and synced. It was symbiotic and so full of love. "You take such good care of me..."

Cillian laughed softly and kissed your face harder. "I could never care more about anything than you..." He hummed into your scalp. "You're my girl... you're... my world."

After those six words, nothing else really was comprehensive for you. You two cuddled up for the rest of the flight until you were made to buckle up for the touchdown. The long and treacherous journey of getting off an airplane into one of the busiest airports in the world was all a mind-numbing bore to you, and all your mind could really focus on was that Cillian was by your side with his hand resting on your lower back, guiding you through the maze-like hallways. In fact, you were in a trance at the way his arms looked carrying the heavy bags. You practically drooling with your lips parted, nearly wanting to take a bite from him. His arms drove you crazy, and the pure strength that he radiated from his body... that older, warm man.. sort of energy.

"C'mon, honey, this way, we're catchin' a car," He wrapped you up in one of his arms as he pushed along the trolley with your suitcases on it. "Don't wanna lose ya in New York City..." Cillian chuckled, and you just smiled up at him, silently looking around in amazement. "Still bein' quiet for me? Tha's okay, love, take your time..." He whispered sweetly.

You sat in the back of a black car, headed to a hotel on the city's other side. You sat in the middle, leaning on Cillian to rest as he looked down at you, the rising sun shining on his face angelically.

"Cillian..." You mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm cold."

"Yeah, baby, that's okay... you can hug me, c'mere... let me hold ya..."

This time, Cillian wrapped you up into his arms and ran his hands up and down your body. Checking into the lobby was long and tedious and dealing with Americans and other women ogling at Cillian made you want to puke your guts out. Like... stop looking at him like that. It was irritating the way they looked at you too, but at this point, you were too tired to care.

"Go on, baby... they've already sent our luggage to our room. I'll meet you there... Just gonna get us a snack..." He whispered in your ear as he was speaking to the receptionist. "It's okay..." He slid you one of the key cards to the room and patted you on the back. Hesitantly, you looked at him with a pout before walking to the elevator to find your room.

You were on one of the top floors of the tall building, and the hallways were long and white and blinding. It took you around another ten minutes to find your room. You sighed as you unlocked the door at the sound of a loud *BEEP* and waddled your way in; you let out a bloodcurdling scream at the sight of a man sitting on your bed with a sickening smile.

"Hello, darling," Jackson's cold voice chuckled in the dark. "I guess you weren't expecting me..." He laughed as he stood up from the bed. Your heart dropped, and part of you panicked... stupidly, you knew it was just Cillian continuing this little affair you were having. But part of you genuinely believed that it was Jackson, and you thought Cillian was downstairs, utterly unaware of this. He was so convincing.

"Wh-What...?" You murmured dumbly as he walked over to the door and locked it behind you.

"Oh darling, did you miss me?" His eyes in the dark were still eerily bright and unnerving, pupils blown wide as he looked at you like an owl in the night. "I bet your little pussy did," He said in faux sympathy, his hand cupping you through your shorts. You still hadn't fully recovered from what you two did just four hours ago, or however long it had been. "I can feel how hot you are for me..." Jackson spat. You were so entranced by what was happening that you didn't notice the complete outfit change. He was wearing a full suit. How would Cillian have time to beat you to your room and also get changed into a nice suit? But you didn't care. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

"Jack-Jackson... Cillian will be back... at any moment..." You whimpered as he pinned you against the wall and tugged your shorts down. "He'll... He'll hurt you... for touching me!" Jackson laughed wildly at your whimpering.

"Oh baby, I'd like to see him try," His laugh was sadistic and that of a villain's. "Think I'd... strap him to a chair and make him watch as I fuck you better than he ever could..." Jackson growled, pulling off his clothes. "Imagine how jealous he'd be... seein' me treat you like a whore, taking my cock so nicely... bet he'd never be able to look at you the same way again..."

"Jackson..." You said with tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you gonna cry more?" He snickered as he curled his fingers around your throat and pushed you down onto the bed. As quickly as you fell, he was on top of you, undoing his pants. "Fucking hell... thought about this tight pussy... gonna have to fill it with all of my cum..."

"Pl-Please... I'm still too sensitive..." You whispered and squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled your shorts down completely and ripped open your shirt. He was treating you like an inanimate object.

"Oh shut up, I know you fucking want me," He huffed. Your underwear was pushed to the side now, and the tip of his cock was pressing into your used hole. "Fuck..." Jackson groaned, shutting his eyes as your cunt squeezed around him like a vice.

"Please... I can't... I can't do anymore..." You cried, trying to push him off you, but it was no use. Your arms were like noodles at the moment. "Jackson..."

"Your pussy says otherwise," He laughed menacingly before slowly pulling back out with just his thick head in you. "You're so cute when you cry..." He snapped his hips back into you roughly, and you mewled as he brushed against your G-spot.

"Oh!" You cried. His hands groped at your tits as he began fucking you like some sort of inanimate sex doll. You couldn't deny the pleasure that was mixed in with the pain. It was all-consuming and truly debilitating. "Fuck..." Tears were slipping down your face as your body bounced with each thrust.

Jackson was fucking you like a feral animal, with absolutely no concern as to how you were feeling. Sweat was dripping down his neck, his pelvis slapping against your swollen clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body. God, it was shameful how good he fucked you. Cillian was really giving it his all to be this character.

"So fucking easy," He grunted. "You're such a fucking whore..." He growled. His American accent was spot on and eerily felt like someone else was talking and not Cillian.

"J-Jackson... you need to slow down... you're hurting me..." You whined as he pulled out of you and shoved you over onto your stomach before shoving his fat cock back in you. "O-Oh!" You choked out, reaching out your arms and gripping the bedsheets. "Slow... slow down... Jackson..." You whined, pressing your face into the sheets as you moaned pathetically.

"Shut the fuck up," He hissed, holding your plush hips in his hands as he rocked you back and forth on his cock. Jackson was loving the sight of your ass bouncing back and forth while he fucked you like a doll. The way he was fucking you was simply animalistic. Like he was the predator and you were the prey, he had found your weak spot, and he was now tearing you open, licking his teeth as he prepared you to eat. "Take my cock like a good girl would, bitch."

"Fuuuuuuck...." You cried out dizzily, mouth gaping wide as he tugged on your hair from behind. It was like a shot out of a porno, the sickening way his skin slapped against yours, or the way his hips were like literal pistons, drilling in and out of you. Meanwhile, the harsh grip on your hair was lulling you into a state of pure sex. You truly did not give a fuck what was happening, too distracted and in love with the fullness of his cock, fucking like all you were good for. "Jackson... Jackson.... please... fuck... please!" You weren't quite sure what you were trying to say. Your brain was no longer in coerce with your teeth and tongue and you were just spewing out broken sentences.

"What? You gonna cum?" He laughed sadistically. "That's right, cum on my dick, get it wet."

"Ernghhggghhg....." You drooled, moaning as he dropped your hair and quickly grabbed at your ass to fuck you further into your orgasm. Gee, you hoped the walls were thick with how loud you were being. With the slamming headboard and the way you were screaming for it, the surrounding hotel guests and people passing by in the hallways outside would surely hear every echo of it.

"So pretty when you're cockdrunk," Jackson grunted. "Bet your pretty boyfriend never fucks you like this... bet he's never got you seein' stars," His American accent made you squeeze. And in a way, he was right. You had never been so thoroughly spent as you were right now, and every nerve in your being was lit in some sort of rampageous flame and was endlessly burning in the pleasure. "Mmmm... I'm right... and you know it." He slapped your ass hard, having you seeing stars hanging around the room.

"J-Jaaaaccck...." You whined, pussy clenching down on his cock.

"Fuck..." He hissed disapprovingly. "Don't fuckin' do that, bitch... I'm not cumming in you yet."

"Please..." You whined. "Please, I need you... daddy... please..."

At this point, you were too dumb to realize it truly wasn't Cillian who was fucking you. You'd never call another man daddy if it weren't Cillian, no matter how in love or obsessed you were with that person, no man could ever be your daddy the way Cillian is. There was something fundamentally twisted inside of you that you didn't realize or immediately recognize the fact that this cock wasn't uncut and was a different shape. But anyway... on with the story...

"Aw... daddy?" He cooed mockingly. "You need your daddy?" Jackson cackled, gripping your hips in a painfully hard way, enough to leave hand-shaped bruises. "That's right, I'll cum in you... you can make me a daddy..." He smirked. "You're gonna take all that cum I give you and make us a fuckin' baby."

"Fuck... whatever you want..." You sighed, still delirious on pleasure. "Please... just want you to cum in me... please..."

Jackson chuffed cheekily and continued using you like some sort of cum-dump. "You're gonna do good in being full of my cum... I think you'll be able to handle it."

You nodded helplessly; your ass and your hips were throbbing with the way he was holding you. A never-ending give-and-take pushing you over the edge over and over again. It was a miracle when he finally came, groaning and moaning.

"Fuck, take it, milk my fucking cock," Jackson moaned loudly, throwing his head back and his hair splayed out on his face. His cum was thick and strong, hitting you like some sort of shotgun. You moaned with each spurt, gasping for air with how much arousal you were spilling from your used cunt.

"Oh... fuck..." You whispered, biting into your arm. "So good... so good... daddy..." He groaned as he pulled out of you and pushed you down onto the bed carelessly, not even bothering to watch how his load slowly leaked from your pussy or even to watch you finger it back in cherishingly.

"Wh-Where are you going, Cillian?" You asked softly, looking back up to meet him in the eyes. A chill went down your spine at the sight of his slightly longer hair and lighter-colored roots; he stared at you with the face of a thirty-year-old man, not a forty-year-old one. You were so confused and still so out of it.

Jackson just laughed and pulled his pants back on, grabbing his things before waving goodbye as he walked out of the room. What the fuck just happened? Cillian was doing a convincing job at how he was playing this Jackson character. You wondered how long he would be gone for. You needed comforting. You tucked yourself into bed with shaky legs and tears because Cillian wasn't there. You really needed him to hold you and to hear his voice.

Eventually, after about a dozen tears were shed, the door cracked open, and Cillian came with two small plates of cake for you to eat. "Oh baby, was I gone that long?" Cillian whispered, setting the plates down neatly on the bedside table. "I'm so sorry, my sweet girl," He whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing you on the forehead. He seemed... so... not sweaty... and different. You stayed quiet and just nodded sadly as he pulled away and quickly got changed.

He crawled into bed with you, pulling the covers up, and quickly wrapped you up in his arms. "Daddy..." You whispered.

"Mmm?" He hummed while brushing your hair with his fingers.

"You were really rough with me... just then..." "What?" He asked with a confused tone. "What do you mean? I'm so sorry... did I sit on your hand or something?" "N-No... I'm talking about when... you were just in here... doing Jackson..."

"What do you mean?" He sat you up now. You two were sitting in each other's arms and staring at each other. His eyebrows were knitted as if he didn't recall what just happened. "I did pretend to be Jackson... on the plane? Yes?" He nodded, trying to see where you were going with this.

"No... I'm not talkin' bout the plane, silly..." You shook your head, laughing softly. "Just now... in the room... when you... you know... from behind..." You bit your lip, looking down at the sheets that were covering your bare legs entangled with Cillian's.

"I haven't been in here for..." Cillian hummed while checking his watch for the time. "Twenty minutes or so?" He looked back up at you, blue eyes flashing even more confusion. "Did you fall asleep and have a wet dream about daddy?" Cillian teased, leaning in and nuzzling your cheek while giggling.

"N-No! It was real... what do you mean?" You asked, now slightly offended that Cillian was trying to trick you. But part of you was putting the pieces together in your head, even if they didn't make sense. "Cillian... I've still got your cum... dripping out of me..."

"That must've been from earlier," Cillian sighed as he laid you back down, still in a laughing fit. "You're so cute... baby... can't believe you dream about me..." Cillian laughed, not noticing your silence. He looked up at the ceiling with a big grin on his face while you just pressed your face to his chest in hopes of it calming you down. Your eyebrows were furrowed deeply, and your mouth held a heavy frown. "Do you dream about me often?"

"Yes... but this wasn't a dream... Cillian... why are you trying to make that up? I'm being serious..."

"Love, I haven't been in here this whole time..." Cillian said a bit more seriously. He ran his thumb along your cheek lovingly. "You must've just fallen asleep... and had a little sexy dream about 'ye old Jackson Rippner."

"Yeah..."

"I know how sleepy you can get," Cillian whispered before pecking you softly. He talked against your lips, and for a brief moment, as if a screen were flashing, you saw Neil Lewis talking to you hotly against your lips, his breath and yours connected. He had you pinned on the couch. It was straight out of that scene with Violet and Neil on his couch. But as quickly as it came, it left. "We did travel quite a lot."

"Yeah..." You whispered, still taken aback by your vision. "Erm... let's just go to sleep... Cillian... I'm really tired..."

"Okay... yer not upset by me are ya?" He asked softly as you laid down and got into your usual spooning position. You faced away from him with that look on your face.

"No, baby, I'm just tired..." You whispered with red eyes. "Please just hold me... I love you so much..."

"I love you too, darling..." Cillian hummed, kissing along your shoulders. "Goodnight, my love, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight..." You murmured back absentmindedly.

Eventually, Cillian was snoring softly behind you, and though you felt sleepy, you just lay there and stared at the glowing clock face. You truly felt like you were going crazy. Why would Cillian lie to you and say that that was just a dream? You glanced down at your hips, which now held faint purple bruise-like indents from where Cillian had held you so hard. That did happen, right? You didn't dream that. Your dreams are never that vivid... or realistic.

Or maybe you were that tired? You have been traveling a lot. It was literally impossible for a movie character to come to life and fuck you. Right? You're just tired and confused, that's all. It was a dream. You convinced yourself.

Just a dream.

Just a...

Harmless...

Little...

Dream...

You repeated in your head as you let yourself fall asleep.

Was it?

-

EHEHEHEH ENJOY <3 I CAN'T WAIT TO RELEASE THE THIRD PART YAYAYAAYAYY!!!

(there will be a part 3 and it'll be the last part)

[kruegerspillow]

serendipity ; simon ghost riley

creators note: i love this man he deserves all the kisses in the world mwamwamwa my hyperfixation is stuck on him aaarghhh this is just little scenario i had in my own mind LMAO

warnings: swearing, this is after johnny had died guys sorry :(, might be ooc! Simon, NOT PROOFREAD

pt 2 here!

The battlefield shouldn't be a place where you could joke around, no, not at all. It is a result of greed— it is the effect that has been left by politics. It captures the eyes of many, yet, it doesn't stop. No matter how many times you plead, no matter how hard you beg, it won't stop. War isn't God, it won't forgive you for what you've done.

The screaming of children will echo through the hollowness of your mind. It will follow you around like a shadow. It will be implanted in your soul like a curse left by Adam. Their body parts are scattered and no longer recognizable. The city that was once your shelter had faded into nothing but debris. War is a consequence of our sins.

The wind howled loudly as you made your way through the isolated village. The field was now left with silence apart from the heavy breathing of your teammates through the radio. Your hand gripped the rifle as you furrowed your brows, watching through the bush to see if there were any movements left in the area. For once, the atmosphere in war was strangely... quiet. Clear. You thought to yourself before clicking on the button of the radio.

"Area's clear. I will be exfiltrating, cap'n." You whispered into the radio, hearing static noises from the other line before a gruff 'affirm' was returned.

Your heartbeat quickened with adrenaline as you walked through the bushes, searching for more enemies before making your way to the extraction point. Suddenly, the rustling of a bush could be heard— that was definitely not you. Your head perked up at the sudden noise, feeling your body tense before turning to the source of the sound. A sharp bang can be heard from behind you and the sound was not even a few yards away. You felt a gloved hand abruptly covering your mouth, the material of the gloves felt familiar—

"Quiet." Your lieutenant's voice came out as a whisper, having just killed a hostile enemy from their team. "More of 'em are 'ere, don't make a single noise ya bloody sod."

"I've gotten rid of them, haven't I—"

"Bloody reinforcements."

There were a few minutes of silence, apart from your heavy breathing. Your back pressed against his chest while his hand covered your mouth. Helicopters hovered over the both of you, flying towards the secure area before making its landing. Simon let go of your mouth before standing up, glancing at you from the holes of his mask as he waited for you to stand. You quickly stood back up before the two of you made your way towards the helicopter, seeing your other teammates jogging to the helicopter before getting in. Captain Price pulled you up while Simon went to sit in one of the seats. Captain Price tugged you to a safer corner of the helicopter, making sure no one fell out.

"Fuckin' aced it, team." Captain Price spoke up, his voice hinted with pride. "Bloody nice."

“Paperworks won't be bloody nice, eh?”

"Christ, ya already thinkin' of the responsibilities, Gaz?"

You swore you could feel Simon's gaze burning a hole through your body as you stood in the corner, watching the banter between Gaz and the Captain. The helicopter ascended before flying back to the base. You could feel the tension between the both of you, surrounding you with an almost overwhelming intensity. Why's he starin' at me like that? You thought to yourself, though you quickly dismissed the thought as you looked out the window. Suddenly, you felt a small nudge on your elbow.

"Muppet, won't ya talk to that lonely bloke there?" Gaz whispered, making sure it's inaudible for Simon to hear before he motioned towards your lieutenant. Gaz had a small, playful grin on his lips.

"Who are you callin' a muppet, huh?"

"Hey, don't ignore what I've jus' said. Last time I've seen lieutenant all cheery was when Soap was still with us, aye?"

"... What're you tryin' to do, Gaz?"

"Jesus, jus' give 'im some company, alrigh'? You both are alike. Remember, great minds think alike."

You scoffed at his words, shaking your head in disbelief as he let out a small laugh. You crossed your arms in an almost defensive way, making your decision before you strode towards your lieutenant. The words in your throat died down when you got closer to him, sitting down beside him before leaning back on the seat. His gaze followed your weary form, and not a single word left his mouth. Finally, you gathered the courage to look up at him.

"Well, 'ello lieutenant." You greeted him.

"You don't need'a talk to me, y'know tha'?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"I 'eard what Gaz said to ya. 'M not one for idle talk, anyway."

You let out a small huff, taking in his words before resting your hands in your lap. The silence took over the conversation, creating an almost awkward atmosphere between the both of you. Simon's gaze lingered on you, as if reading you like an open book. He blinked a few times, waiting for your next move.

"Well, he isn't very good at whisperin', isn't he..."

A small scoff left his lips, "What do ya think?"

'It's not like you're any better, aye, lieutenant? Nearly got the both of us killed when you tried talkin' to me in the bushes."

The words left your mouth almost instantly, nearly making you regret your abrupt comment on him. Just as you were about to apologize, the helicopter landed. Simon stood up from his seat, glancing down at you once more before waiting for the rest of the team to jump out of the helicopter. You went along with him, feeling almost nervous after talking to your superior like that. Though, you could see the small crinkle in the corner of his eyes— a small sign that he was smiling underneath his mask, even if it was just a little. His smile was quickly washed away by his stoic facade as he turned his head to you. Did the stone-cold lieutenant let down his walls around you?

"...I don't bite, don't worry." The words left his mouth as he made his way through the base, before leaving you to walk to his quarters.

Fuck, what have you gotten yourself into now?

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[mrsparrasblog]

Jealousy Jealousy

Summary: Ghost wanted you but was to afraid to break the rules of fraternization, giving you only the last possibility of seducing him.

TW: Smut, Sex, Creampie, Spermplay, rough fucking, seduction, swearing, dirty talk

Wordcount: 3,9 K

MDNI

So Im back lol , and like always procrastinating and writing something else then I should and definitely more words then I planed thought about 1,5 K max . Dunno just enjoy your daily doses of COD smut.

You were aware of fraternization rules even if rules didn’t count that much for people like you, people who worked in the TF141, but your way too hot Lieutenant savored these rules because they were so important to him, or maybe he just didn’t find you attractive, you thought, until he kissed you last week after the mission in Las Almas, telling you he thought you were fucking dead. Graves captured you, but you managed to run away with your half-limp body. When he saw you, he couldn’t hold back, pushing his backlava up to kiss you, and then, after Las Almas, when you were in the pub, he punched a bloke just for looking at you. „Leave my girl alone,“ he barked, and of course, if a 6´5 masked man screamed, the man ran survival instinct, but you still needed to get laid, so you planned the perfect plan to seduce Ghost.

You looked into the mirror. The black dress clung to every curve and dip of your body like a glove. It was perfect. You knew what Ghost loved and how to highlight it. You pulled the stockings up to your lingerie and hummed in approval. He was just a man, after all, so of course he couldn’t decline this offer. At least you thought so, so you walked towards the common room. Now your only hope was that Ghost was alone and there was no Price in sight.

So as you walked into the room, the play of Manchester was visible on the TV, and he immediately turned around, noticing the different scents in the air when you entered—vanilla and amber—his weakness. “What the fuck are you wearin’?“ He looked at you from head to toe, trying to hide a smirk.

"Don't you think it's pretty? You asked while fluttering your lashes at him.

"Pretty? You're asking if this is pretty. You look like a fucking hooker." His voice was gruff and unapologetic. "Go change before Price sees you like this, or I swear to God."

„No, I would rather stay like this“

He grunted and turned back to the TV, not wanting to be bothered by changing your mind. But there was a strange part of him, a soft part, that found you so fucking attractive.

Now it was time for the next step of your plan. You sat down next to him, watching the match.

"Fuck off." He growled, trying to focus on the game but finding it difficult with you sitting so close. "Why are you always in my fucking space?“

„Because you know, I like watching Manchester too.“

„Well, then you should get your own damn TV and watch it in your room." He muttered, frustrated by your constant presence. But even as he spoke harshly, a small smile crept onto his face at the thought of you liking the same team as him.

„Why are you so grumpy today?“

„I'm not grumpy; I just don't like being bothered when I'm trying to watch my football." He snapped, annoyed by your question. But deep down, he knew it was just a lie. After what happened in Las Almas, this must stop, Ghost knew how to push people away, but you were just so resistant to his tantrums.

„I don't bother you, Ghost. Im only watching a match in the common room last time I checked. This area is for everyone.“

„Yes, you do. You always fucking do." He hissed, glaring at you briefly before turning back to the game. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the match again, hoping that would help him calm down.

„Are you bothered by this?" You gestured at your body.

"Yes, I'm bothered by it! You look like a goddamn whore, and it's bothering me!" He snaps, his patience finally snapping. He couldn't help but notice your body, however his mind was starting to wander inappropriately. Thinking of how you look without the dress, how he would rip it off you, and how good your red lipstick would look smeared on his dick while you cried from almost choking, but he was your superior,

„But a beautiful whore." You knew him long enough; you knew him when he was just a sergeant. This was just his way of pushing you away, and you were a patient girl, but now it was enough; he wanted you, or at least kept every male away from you within 20 miles distance. 

„Shut up." He growled, unable to deny the truth in your words. Despite himself, he found you so unbelievably attractive, and it was making him even more frustrated with your situation.

You rested your legs on his lap, leaning back into the soft cushion on the couch.

"What the fuck?" He immediately pulled your legs off his lap, glaring at you through the skull mask. "Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?" He snarled, trying to keep his temper in check.

„They are only legs.“

„It's still not okay!" He shouted, losing his cool completely. "You're my subordinate, for fuck's sake! Have some respect!" His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment as he stood up from the couch, needing some space to calm down.

„It's not like I touched you anywhere inappropriate, Lieutenant. You knew how crazy he was when you called him, and you really thought you had him there.

„That's not the point!" He yelled. "You should know better than to behave like this!" He turned away from you, trying to regain his composure and hide the heat that burned in his cheeks.

“Why?“

„Because I'm your superior, you are under my line of command, dammit!" He snapped back, spinning back around to face you. "We are working on the field; you take orders from me, which means there are certain boundaries we shouldn't cross! You know this.“

„Price and Gaz always fuck with each other, and it doesn’t change the dynamic." You argue, how could it be okay for the Captain to sleep with his Sergeant but not for the Lieutenant?

"It doesn't matter! The fact remains that I’m your commanding officer, and that changes things." He argued, his voice rising in pitch. "I can't just ignore the fact!“

„You want it, you want me too. You can't just scare every bloke away who is interested in me, Ghost, and then don’t act on your feelings.“

„I want you who care. I fucking long for you. That still doesn’t change a fuck about that. I'm your superior.“

You slowly let the straps of your dress fall. „You long for me, Ghost? Then show me how much you want me.“

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, taken aback by your sudden action. His eyes widened as he saw more of your exposed delicate skin, and a bulge began to form in his pants. Despite his anger, he couldn't help but be affected by your provocative move. His eyes stayed on your exposed shoulders, and you knew you had him. You slowly started to let the dress fall to the ground, revealing yourself in black lingerie, his favorite with straps, and everything he could dream of.

He quickly turned away, trying to regain his composure. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?" He said this, fighting the urge to turn and look at you. His heart was racing, and his body was reacting against his will.

„Don't you think im beautiful Ghost?“ You looked at him with dear eyes, walking closer to him.

„I think you're incredibly fucking annoying!" He snapped, turning back to face you. 

He couldn't deny that you were attractive, but the situation was too complicated for him to deal with right now. "You making this really difficult, Darling.“

Your face turned the prettiest shade of pink when he called you Darling, and the butterflies from your stomach only moved between your thighs.

"Get away from me. I'm a patient man, but if you don’t put something on, I can't promise to not fuck that brattiness out of you." He growled, taking a step back and holding up his hands to stop you. His mind was in turmoil as he watched your seductive walk, and he felt his pants tighten even more. "This isn't helping anything, darling.“

„Ghost, please just dunno give a shit about the rule.“

„I wish I could.“

„Then let me have another man, Ghost; you can't claim me as yours, and then act on it.“

„I kill every fucking man who even thinks of touching you,“ he barked, his eyes darkened with his possession, making you start to plan B.

„You can either fuck me or I'm going to Johnny, and He can do it your choice." You took your phone, typed the message for Johnny, and showed it to him. You had enough; he needed to sort out his thoughts about whether he wanted you or let you have someone else, even if you only wanted him.

„You're not serious." He said this, shaking his head in disbelief. His face turned red with anger. "You really think I'd let Johnny touch you after what you just did?" He stepped closer, towering over your vulnerable frame. You were in the military and definitely not a delicate flower, but in comparison to Ghost, everyone looked small.

„Why? You didn't want me.“

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the wall. "Johnny better not say anything about you to me unless it's to say he never will fucking touch you!" He growled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Do I make myself clear?“

„He will give me what I want, and don't complain about it,“ you said, pressing your finger deeper into his wound of possessiveness.

"No." He said it firmly, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "You're not going to go to him. You're coming with me." He turned and started walking towards his room, expecting you to follow. The thought of Johnny touching you made him even more angry and possessive. You were his, and no other bloody bloke will touch you.

„Oh, will I now?“ You asked, chuckling softly at his jealousy. Maybe you would make it harder for him after all you were just as fucked up as he.

„Yes, you will." He said it without turning around. "You owe me that much after what you just did." His voice was cold and unyielding. He stopped at his door and turned to face you again. "Now, are you coming, or do I have to drag you?“

„Drag me“

„Fine." He grunted, reaching for your wrist and pulling you towards him. His grip was rough and forceful, but you didn't struggle, getting used to his strength in several sparring matches where he pinned you down. You entered his room, and he slammed the door shut behind you, taking his sweet time to look at your ass in the lingerie.

"Now what?" He demanded it, glaring down at you.

„You could just fuck me like I want,“ you suggested, teasingly stroking his biceps through his compression shirt.

„Do you think this is a game?" He asked, pushing you against the wall. "You can't just snap your fingers and expect me to do whatever you want!" His anger was palpable, but he could also feel the lust building within him. "What did you do back there?“

„I just showed you lingerie; it's nothing wrong.“

„It's not the lingerie!" He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. "It's the fact that you're using your body to get what you want!" He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down.

„Are you too weak to resist?“

„I'm not weak!" He shouted, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. "But you're pushing me too far! Now, either you stop or I'll do something you'll regret." His face was close to yours, bodies pressed together.

 „I won't regret fucking you.“

„You don't know what you're saying; you will regret it after you can't walk straight for days." He growled, his rough, chapped lips brushing against yours. "But if that's what you really want, fine." With a sudden movement, he spun you around and pushed you down onto the bed.

He climbed on top of her, pinning her arms above her head once more. "This is how it's going to be." He asked, his voice low and husky. "You're going to use your body as a weapon against me?“

„Yes Sir“

Sir, you had the nerve to call him this, with a growl he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. His muscular frame was covered in scars from years of fighting, but they only added to his rugged charm. He leaned down and captured your soft lips with his own, kissing you fiercely like all the time back in Las Almas.

„Mhm Ghost“

„When we're like this, you’re going to fucking moan Simon, not Ghost?“ He pulled his mask away, throwing it in the corner, and showed you his scared face. It was fucking beautiful, his blonde lashes, the brown eyes, the blonde stubbles, and the way too long blonde hair for regulation. "You're beautiful, Si.“

„Do you understand what you're doing to me?" He asked between kisses, his voice rough with desire. "You're driving me mad!" He trailed kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin. "Are you sure this is what you want?“

„I have wanted this for years.“

His fingers found the claps of your black lacy bra, and he began to pull it off, revealing more of your lush body. "Even though you've ignored me for months?" He asked, his voice shaking with need. "Even though you've flirted with him?“ It wasn’t like you ignored him back then, it was like ages ago.

„With Johnny? Jealous?“

„Yes," he growled, hooking his thumbs into your sweet panties and pulling them down your perfect legs. "I'm so fucking jealous of him. Of everyone who fucking looks at you" he stared at your bare pussy for a moment, his lust burning brightly in his eyes. "You're beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to inhale your musk scent and then flicking his thick thong over your complete cunt, savoring the taste of your leaking juices.

His tongue darted out to trace the folds of your pleading pussy, tasting the sweet nectar that coated you. "Fuck Darlin’," he hissed, picking up the pace.

You pressed his head deeper into your wetness, his fingers found your clit, circling it gently before plunging down into your. He groaned against your mound, unable to hold back any longer.

You squirmed beneath him, your moans getting louder and more urgent as he continued to pleasure you. "Your cuny tastes so fucking good," he muttered against your skin, licking and sucking every inch of your hardened clit.

„Oh god, Simon“

As you gasped his name, he knew you were close. With one last thrust of his tongue deep into your tight core, he felt you shudder violently around him, and your hot cum spurted onto his face. "Fuck Darlin’, "he groaned, drinking in your essence as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You are exquisite," he rasped, pulling his lips away from your swollen, overstimulated clit. "Absolutely fucking exquisite." He licked his lips clean of your juices, the taste lingering in his mouth for a moment before disappearing altogether. 

„Sorry, I made a mess of you.“ You chuckled, looking at his face all smeared down with your sticky juices.

"Don't be sorry." He smiled, gazing at you with adoration. "I prefer you wetter.“

„Can you finally fuck me now?“

He grinned, his hands sliding down your hips to grasp your thighs. "Oh, darling," he growled as he thrust into you, his cock sliding easily into your slick heat at first, despite his enormous length. "I've wanted to do this for so fucking long.“

„Mhm Si,“ his thick length stretched you out like no one ever did; you felt him in places you didn’t even know you had, and when his cold piercing hit your gummy walls, you squealed, making him only chuckle.

He groaned, his hips slamming against yours as he took you with a force that left no doubt about his desire."Fuck, you're tight," he gasped, feeling every inch of his length stretch your pussy to its limits. 

„You’re too big, Si,“ you whined as he hit your cervix, a spot no man before ever reached, not even Johnny. The burn was between pain and pleasure, making you rethink all your life choices.

„You can take it; begged for it, Darlin', didn't you?“

His eyes locked with yours, and the intensity of your gaze increased as he moved within you. "You like that, don't you?" He growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "Feeling my cock fucking you from the inside out.“

God, he is a talker, you thought, and his British accent made it even worse for you, making your gummy walls flood him with your wetness.

„`S hurt, Si“

He leaned down, his teeth nipping at your neck as he thrust deeper, hitting your cervix with each forceful motion. "I know." He smirked, his hips grinding against yours in a powerful rhythm. "But you seem to be handling it quite well.“

„Oh god, you squirmed beneath him, your nails digging into his back as you tried to cope with the sensations coursing through your body. "You're amazing," he moaned, his lips finding your ear as he whispered encouragement and dirty talk.

„Mhm Si“ 

He leaned down to kiss you softly, his hands running through your hair as he traced patterns on your scalp. "You drive me insane," He whispered, his gaze locked with yours, "I can't get enough of you. I have been addicted to you since the first time you walked inside the gym.“

„Please“

Simon grinned wickedly. „You want it hard?“

„Yes,“ you moaned naively, thinking you could take more of him and more of his restless vigor.

He smirked, his hips starting an aggressive, pounding rhythm that left no doubt about his intentions. "Well, you got it," he growled, each thrust hitting your cervix with devastating force. "You like that?“ 

Simon leaned down to capture your lips in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing past your teeth as he took what he wanted. He pulled back with a satisfied smirk, his breathing labored from the intensity of your lovemaking. Even if it felt more like fucking for you, it was making love to him, proving to you he was the right one. You knew no one could protect you better than him; he knew he could provide for you and grant you every wish you had in your fucked-out mind, and now he took great pride in knowing no one could fuck you like him.

"I could fuck you like this all day." His lips pressed against your neck, nipping and teasing the sensitive skin. "Is that what you want?" He whispered, his hips thrusting harder as he felt your body tighten around him. "To be fucked all day?“

„Yes Lieutenant“ 

Simon laughed, a deep, husky sound that vibrated against your flesh. "You're such a dirty little thing," he praised, slamming into you once more. His free hand moved down to squeeze your ample ass, urging you to meet his hips stroke for stroke.

„Mhm, Si, please“

Simon's grin grew wider as he felt the familiar heat building within him. He knew you could take it all, and he was more than willing to give you everything he had. "Tell me what you want, baby girl. Want me to cum in you? Want me to fuck your ass? Want me to forget your own name? Because I'm more than fuckin’ willing to give it all to you,“ he growled against your ear, thrusting harder than ever before.

"Do you want me to make you cum?" He asked teasingly, feeling your pussy grip his cock tighter.

"Yes, please,“ you whined, almost unable to speak.

Simon’s hand moved from your ass to grip your hair, pulling slightly as he drove deeper inside you. His other hand moved between you too to rub against your overstimulated clit in a rough rhythm. "Say it," he demanded, needing to hear those words from your lips.

„Make me cum.“ 

With a triumphant groan, Simon increased his pace, his hips meeting yours in a brutal display of lust and desire. He felt your walls clenching around him, muscles contracting as you edged closer and closer to your awaiting climax. "Fuck, you're so tight," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening as he felt the orgasm building within him. "I'm going to cum all over your fucking face and paint you like a masterpiece.“

Simon felt your inner walls pulsing around him as you reached your climax, and with a primal roar of his own, he released himself inside of you. His thick cum filled you up, overflowing onto your willing womb as he held himself deep within you. His cum was sticky and hot, sending shivers down your spine.

It took a while for you to come back to your senses after he fucked every part of your brain out of you. After a while, you were able to perform a snarky comment. the brattiness was still not fucked out by your Lieutenant. "I thought you wanted to cum all over my face, huh.“

With a smirk, he pulled out and replaced his member with his tongue, licking up every drop he could find on your cunt. "I changed my mind," he said playfully. "It tastes better coming from you.“

This was new; most men feared to kiss you after you gave them head, and he just licked his cum out of your vagina. "Did you just taste yourself?“

Simon's eyes flashed with mischief. "And if I did?" He teased you, planting another kiss on your lips. "You liked it enough to taste it too, remember?“

You licked the remaining seed from his lips, eager to make him crazy.

“Oh fuck." Simon's head fell back with a groan as you licked him clean. "You're so fucking dirty, and I love it." He grabbed your hair, pulling you into a deep kiss that tasted salty and sweet.

„God Simon“

„Best fuck of your life,“ he looked at you with a cocky smile fucking arrogant idiot, but he was right.

„Yes“

„Pull that on“ he handed you a shirt, one of his Ghost Lieutenant military shirts he wore to the training, and you couldn’t stop a giggle thinking of how sweet that action was, but Ghost wasn’t a sweet individual, well, at least not always. When you pulled the shirts on and he nicked your panties, he ruffled through your hair, smearing his cum over your red lips, making you only look more fucked than ever before. 

„Stand up, Darlin'; it isn’t nice to cancel a meeting over the phone. Tell Johnny you won't come or ever again to him.“

„Just let me get ready first,“ you tried to wiggle yourself out of his grip.

„No, you go like this.“

„But-“

„This was a fucking order now, Sergeant.“

So you went to the next barrack. You knew Johnny must have already heard you, but now you were on your way to him naked, just covered in Simon's shirt, tangled hair, red lipstick everywhere, cum on your face, and the remaining cum that leaked out of your cunt to your thighs. Simon could only admire his masterpiece; he felt like a Picasso for doing this to you. 

„Sorry Johnny can't make it,“ you said to your friend with an embarrassed expression. Maybe you deserved it after teasing Simon this way.

„The Lt.?“

„Yes“ 

Simon stood only in the corner and admired you, already thinking about how he would praise and reward you for being such a good girl.

[cellophane-wasps]

Eddie Gluskin has a very strange grip on trans people and cis women. I rarely see cis gay men who are into him. Maybe the whole castration thing is too much for them. I am not going to say everything perfectly in this "dissertation" because I am in a manic episode. Please keep this in mind.

This is outlast and Eddie Gluskin. So CW for canon typical themes. I'm also gonna speak on certain things trans people deal with, along with the connection between trauma and kink, so enter at your own discretion.

I think for all of us, there's something about the dichotomy between violent slur throwing sex obsessed brute, and charming old timey gentleman. The former ties into the appeal of bodice rippers, and the latter is just... He's an older gentleman who calls you darling and dear and seems to have this reverence for you. This all consuming "love". Plus there's the "I can fix him/I'll be the exception" thing.

Now for us transgendereds. Trans people have this unique tie in to Eddie. I don't want to concretely speak on Trans men, because I am a doll, not a t-bloke. So take everything here with a grain of salt. Trans men are men, but they are all too familiar with the plights of how men treat women. There's the concept of being ABLE to appeal to Eddie's nuclear family delusions and obsession with pregnancy, while also being a man. You can read his actions in the game however you want, but there is a pretty solid interpretation of internalized homophobia. Trans men solve both of those issues. (Plus there's the whole force femme thing that plenty of trans men are into. Trauma and kink are a flat circle for many).

Now onto my demographic. The dolls. We know what it's like to have it implied that we're leading men on. We're all too familiar with a man who's into us, finds out we're trans, and becomes agitated and believes we're leading him on and tempting him (despite showing no signs of attraction). Trans women have a special relationship with castration. For those of us who want to be surged, it is by definition castration. We aren't as viscerally disturbed by it as cis men are. Like trans men there is this level of playing into Eddie's obsessions, but in reverse. You are a woman. You can be the housewife. But you also have the "vulgarity" that he is so fixated on. There's this level of "if I am already a woman, maybe that would be enough for his delusions".

Frankly, I think Eddie would be as satisfied with a cis woman as he is with a cis man. His initial crimes that had him institutionalized were against cis women. So for us trans people, the "best of both worlds" thing really does potentially apply here. As an aside, I feel like saying this is unfortunately necessary. Cis bi people, please don't call us the best of both worlds, it leans into the "heshe shemale" thing along with the "trans men are just tomboys" thing. We are not a concept, or a fantasy, or an object. We are people. Trans women are women. Trans men are men. Respect it, or you are not for us.

I don't really know how to approach enbies attraction to Eddie aside from again, "best of both worlds" which again. Transphobic. Most enbies don't aim for perfect androgyny.

Cis women. If you don't look at Eddie's in game actions as internalized homophobia, you are what he desires. There is the trauma aspect of Eddie being a misogynistic abusive murderer. But he's also a sweet, crooning, doting gentleman. Trauma tied in with the prototypical ideal man. You are what he wants. You can fix him. You can give him the nuclear family he so desires.

In the end. We're all convinced we can fix him (or make him worse), we all like that he's a dangerous gentleman, we all have the dealing with trauma through kink thing, and we all love this fucked up, handsome, poor sweet hurt man. Amen.

[krispdreemurr]

While kris and the knight's relationship is maria and [redacted] levels of tragic (if you assume dess is the knight ofc), strangely enough, it is also just.. really funny to me. Kris coughing to warn the knight to pack it up, kris and the knight just standing there at the top of the stairs for a moment, staring at each other. When I think of them I think of the "blokes who do fuck all" meme. Like, come on, guys, starting the roaring can not be that hard. There is this animation on YouTube of kris walking into the bunker to ask what their next course of action is only to find the knight too busy playing ultrakill, and its great.

Anyway, on a slightly sadder side, I like to think that when dess asked kris to do something when they were kids, kris would reply "on it, boss" in a jokingly mafia goon voice. Kris years later does the same thing when given a command from the knight, but the knight does not reply back.

it's really good. even if dess isn't the most With It they can still sometimes do some stupid shit together. kris gaming in the bunker so the knight can watch over their shoulder and offer screeching background commentary

and Augh that last bit hurts

[robin-the-enby]

Hello!! Could I request some sweeney todd x reader heavy fluff please? thanks!

Marked by an angel

Pairing: Sweeney Todd x gn!reader

Smmary: A chance meeting of two strange people on Fleet street. What started just as part of your job lead you to finding a new friend and perhaps...a lover.

Warnings: hints of murder (it's Sweeney, c'mon), unfair boss/employee dynamic, description of getting robbed and bruises (1 blackeye)

A/N: After what felt like an eternity, I am back! I am so glad I finished this. I was dealing with mental issues, financial struggles, work and uni so I had no time and time or energy to do anything. But I am very happy to post this! Maybe it's not as fluffy as you wanted and for that I am sorry, but I feel like it is as true to the character as possible :) I'll gladly hear your feedback on this piece and all likes, but especially reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also, if you'd like to hear some bonus stuff about this oneshot, feel free to shoot me a message!

There are many men in the world. And yet you can't say you've ever met anyone the likes of Mr. Todd.

The quiet barber from Fleet street. With his pale complexion, white streaked hair and dark eyes that held the depths of the ocean that surrounds Britain. He had captured your attention the very first time you made an appointment with him for your boss. The recommendations for his shop floated around your part of town and all the gentlemen could not seem to praise his skills enough.

Your boss had ordered you to find him a new barber, since his old one was ripping him off on money. Not that you blamed the poor bloke, times were tough, prices high and it wasn't like your boss couldn't spare a few pounds, especially since he liked to have his hair and beard trimmed once a month. Luckily, you managed to talk him out of getting the authorities involved, knowing that if the man was to be jailed, it would take a massive toll on his family.

Your job as an errand person, a sort of secretary, was simple enough in theory. You followed your boss around, a businessman dealing in produce from a few farms that he owned in the countryside. All you had to do was carry a notepad and a pencil with you to scribble down tasks that had to be managed and appointments that had to be made or dealt with. But in reality your legs were probably stronger than most people's, with how many steps you walked every day. Even though it wasn't in your job description, you did everything your boss didn't want to, went everywhere he wasn't exactly needed. You swore that the lazy bastard would have you walking to the latrine instead of him, if it were possible.

That was one of the reasons you liked the visits to the barber's, because you got to just sit on a chair by the window for an hour at least, quietly listening to the conversation made between your boss and the man grooming him, only occasionally having to scribble down one thing or another. But ever since your boss started to frequent Mr. Todd's shop, the rest wasn't the only reason accompanying your boss there was enjoyable or you.

Mr. Todd was an enigma. Mostly silent during work and outside of it, you learnt to appreciate the sound of his voice and to study his body language, little quirks that gave off pieces of his personality. The way his eyes flitted around, scanning the face of his customer for any imperfections that needed to be dealt with. His hands were steady, working seemingly without relying on his eyes or even brain, with a level of discipline you haven't seen before in your life. And from time to time, his eyes would flick up to meet yours, for a fraction of a second, before falling back down to your boss, lounging on Mr. Todd's intricate chair. You wondered why it had to be so intricate, compared to other barbers you've seen in your career, but you didn't question it, just as you never questioned the way the man's eyes would inevitably get stuck on your boss' neck every once in a while for some reason that had yet to reveal itself to you.

Maybe it was morbid curiosity or some other strange pull that made you want to find out just what was the cause of the deep emotion swirling behind Sweeney's eyes. The kind of pull that made sure the mysterious barber did not leave your mind for longer than a few hours. So you started to come around to the meat pie shop right under Mr. Todd's. The shop owner, Mrs. Lovett, was a sweet and terribly lonely woman, whose meat pies were, also, quickly gaining popularity around its part of town, and it didn't take long for her to take a shine to you as soon as she recognised you as one of her regulars.

While making a new friend wasn't your primary goal when you started hanging around the pie shop, you didn't mind how Mrs. Lovett warmed up to you. She was a sweet and funny woman, in her own way, and you soon recognised she was also dealing with romantic feelings towards Mr. Todd, as she confided in you one day. These feelings were unreciprocated, as far as you knew, although Sweeney visited the shop every night, coming down to fetch his dinner, for free of course. He usually came around after closing his own shop, sometimes even later, when even Mrs. Lovett closed down for the night. He would walk past you two sharing a glass of wine and exchanged a quiet and smooth, although cold 'good evening', before taking a pie and disappearing upstairs again.

But the longer you kept visiting Mrs. Lovett, the more Sweeney started to notice you. Once in a blue moon he would share a glass of wine with you both as you would more or less listen to Minnie ramble about this and that. After some time, one night, when Sweeney was upstairs and you were spending an evening at the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett told you cheekily that Mr. Todd asked about you, how you and her met and why you were around so much. Despite her mischievous smile you felt as if he was wary of your presence here, which puzzled you, but it did not deter you from wanting to get to know the man more.

In the end, it was him who made the first move, and you didn't even realise until much later. One time, when you were accompanying your boss for his monthly trim, Sweeney suggested that he should come around more often, at least every two weeks, because it would do wonders for his hair and beard health. It was evident your boss had no idea whether that was true or not, so he looked at you for confirmation. You shared a look with the barber, through which you tried to communicate to him that if he was planning to swindle your boss, it would be on your head, but something in those dark eyes of his made you trust him, so you confirmed to your boss that yes, coming to the barber more often would not only be beneficial to his hair, but it would also be good for appearances.

From that point on you got closer with the barber much faster than you could even register. One night, as you were sitting at the table in the pie shop across Minnie, nursing your second glass of wine and venting out frustration from your job, Sweeney came down to get his dinner. Before he left though, he stopped in the door to the kitchen, where the pies were made, and stared at you for a while, gaze calculating, but not as cold as you were used to. With the alcohol flowing through your veins you called him out on it, to which he simply replied "Your hair. It would do good with a trimming." before turning around on his heel and walking out. Mrs. Lovett cursed his lack of etiquette and assured you that you looked fine, although getting a trim wouldn't be a bad idea. She knew that given what your job was, you didn't have much time left to treat yourself.

The next time you accompanied your boss to his barber appointment yet again, Sweeney brought up the subject as your boss left you to pay. "Have you thought about my offer?" You blinked up at him, not knowing for a second what he meant, before his eyes shifted to your hair and you understood what he was implying. Feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, you tried to keep your cool as you asked, just to be sure "You meant that you would trim my hair?" You didn't want your voice to come out as unsure and surprised as it did, but if Sweeney noticed it, and something told you he did, the barber didn't mention it or let it show. He only smirked the slightest bit, making you wonder later if you didn't just imagine it, and replied "Well, at this point I would be offended if the first person you tasked with such a job wasn't me. Or do you deem my skills inadequate?" he raised his brow as he jokingly asked, knowing well what your answer would be. Feeling as hot as a boiled potato, you quickly settled the date of your appointment before you were out the door, so that your boss wouldn't scold you for dilly dallying.

When the day of your appointment came, you felt strangely nervous, your legs slightly shaking as you walked up the stairs to Sweeney's dark shop. For some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling of cattle being herded to a butcher. You chalked it up to your crush making you nervous, but that feeling only intensified when Sweeney positioned the barber chair you had sat on, so that you were half laying down. And yet when he tended to your locks, his touch was soft, quick and precise, never wandering where it didn't need to and leaving as soon as he was done in one area, moving swiftly to another. What came as a surprise to you was that he made small talk with you the entire time you were in that chair. Maybe it was because he sensed your nerves, but maybe not, you really couldn't tell. He asked you where you came from, why were you in London of all places, he even asked about your job and your family. The last topic he brushed upon quickly, which made you suspect it was a tough subject for him, an information you filed away safely in your brain to mull over later.

The last thing he told you when you were done and admiring yourself in the mirror he provided was to not tell Mrs. Lovett who cut your hair. You nodded softly and made your way home, feeling like a brand new person. Although the next time you set foot in the pie shop, Minnie's first question was "Did Mr. Todd cut your hair? It looks wonderful, darling!" You didn't confirm nor deny her rhetoric question, only smiling a bit bashfully before Mrs. Lovett insisted on opening 'the good wine' for the occasion. You didn't mention the fact that he refused to take payment for the service...

And as if that wasn't enough embarrassment in the short amount of time, this night at Minnie's pie shop turned out to have gone on much longer than any other one. Mrs. Lovett insisted you stay a bit longer any time you brought up going home for the night. Her reasoning being that since you finally did something for yourself after what must've been quite a long time in her opinion, you deserved to treat yourself some more, because when would an opportunity like this arise again?

And so you stayed seated in the dimly lit pie shop that smelled of baked meat, the likes of which you have never smelled before, and a mixture of herbs that reminded you of a memory long buried in your mind.

The conversation flowed freely and as the alcohol made its rounds through your bloodstream, your tongue became looser, as well as did Minnie's. She told you how her attempts at wooing Mr. Todd were progressing, or rather, were stagnating, with the man ignoring any and every romantic gesture or hint made towards him by his friend. That brought you to joining her in her admiring words for the handsome barber, leading to many laughs and jokes. Maybe it was because of her tipsy state, but you were surprised Mrs. Lovett took your admission of your crush on her upstairs neighbour better than you expected.

Your conversation then moved elsewhere and you were both so engrossed in it that neither of you heard the quiet footsteps leading to the shop. Sweeney's brows rose a little as he opened the door to a peculiar sight. The two people he had allowed closer to himself than anyone else since his return to London were sitting huddled at a table, which wouldn't have been that unusual, if it wasn't for the nearly empty bottle of old and undoubtedly strong wine. Both of your glasses were somewhat filled, the precious liquid spilled here and there in small amounts on the table. If Sweeney wasn't such a gentleman, despite his cold and often ruthless heart, he would say you were drunk. And not just a little bit.

Announcing his presence with a gruff cough, both your and Mrs. Lovett's heads snapped around to face him and he fought the small smirk that grew on his face at the sight. "Mr. Todd! We haven't even noticed you were here!" Minnie quickly addressed him with her signature friendliness. You stayed silent, instead opting to just admire the way Mr. Todd looked in the dim lighting in the shop. You felt you were seeing him completely differently than the other nights you spent there. His eyes reflected the light, making them look even more mysterious and alluring than usual and his normally pale face seemed more livelier. You would have spoken up, offered him some wine, but suddenly, being brought out so suddenly from your conversation with Minnie, your tongue felt big in your mouth, the weight of lead and you just did not have the energy to move it. Or open your mouth for that matter. Somewhere in the back of your mind crossed a thought that maybe you have had a bit too much to drink.

"It is quite late, I am surprised to catch you awake." Mr. Todd pointed out in a neutral tone, despite the playful mirth he was feeling. "Oh but the same could be said about you, Mr. Todd." Mrs. Lovett retaliated cheekily "Besides, we have a good reason to drink into the night! It is my friend's birthday, after all." she announced with an air of pride. You blinked at her a few times, not knowing where she had gotten that information from, because you were pretty sure today was not your birthday at all. Perhaps Minnie has forgotten the reason you were celebrating altogether and her drunken mind just made up a reason on the spot. As you were pondering when actually was your birthday, Mr. Todd spoke up again "Is that so? Well in that case-" and in a few strides he was at yours and Mrs. Lovett's table. He grabbed her half full glass of wine and before you could start wondering if it wasn't half empty, he raised it, grabbing your hand. "Happy birthday." he smiled slightly while you stood up, because you were being congratulated and you didn't want to appear rude, even though there wasn't actually a reason to congratulate you. Mr. Todd downed his, previously Minnie's, glass in one gulp before setting it down again.

Turning to Mrs. Lovett, he addressed her "I need to discuss something with you." he then turned his attention towards you "But it seems there is a more pressing matter at hand." he smirked as he gave you a once over. You felt your cheeks flush, knowing he was right. Standing up was the last straw before your alcohol fueled downfall. You were barely standing, your body swaying side to side slightly to keep itself balanced. Mrs. Lovett studied you for a while as well, before standing, with only a slightly lesser difficulty than you. "Oh I'm so sorry, dear, it seems that I have gone overboard with the drinks." she apologised and you couldn't help but smile softly at her sad tone. "'S alright, Minnie. 'M not mad." you shook your head with a small smile "I best be off though..." mumbling to yourself, you bid your friend a goodnight, not really paying attention to Sweeney, assuming he was waiting for you to leave so that he could discuss whatever it was with his neighbour.

Stumbling away from the table, you were surprised when a hand gripped your upper arm, supporting your weight and grounding your otherwise spinning world. Tracing the arm the hand was attached to with your eyes, you found Sweeney's already looking at your face. You said nothing, in the case that he only supported you in your struggle to weave through the tables in the shop, but as he continued to lead you out of the old building, Mrs. Lovett having gone in the back already, you were confused by this act of chivalry. Not that you took Mr. Todd for a brute, you just didn't expect such a gesture aimed at...yourself. The fact that this was also the first time he has touched you in any way while not necessarily needing so, unlike when he gave you your haircut, did not help your inebriated mind from running wild with conspiracies.

The crisp night air helped clear your head a little bit and you gulped it greedily with deep breaths when you walked out, arm in hand, with the barber. He stood, patiently, right next to you, his secure, but not tight grip on your arm never faltering. If he noticed how you took your sweet time collecting yourself, he didn't mention it, his eyes instead trained on the silver moon hanging in the sky like a lamp, blurred slightly by the infamous London fog. When he sensed you move more into the street, however, he tugged you back towards him slightly, as if he could not let you stray far.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion and yet his eyes shone in a particular way that you couldn't exactly put a finger on in your state. The smirk that once rested on his handsome face was gone and you were perhaps more confused than before. "Home?" you half answered, half asked, unsure of what was the problem. Mr. Todd shook his head sternly "I cannot send you home alone at this time of day and retain a sound mind." he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You couldn't help but laugh at his statement. Where were you supposed to sleep then? Inside the shop? Sliding your arm out of his grip, you grabbed your stomach, your laughter gaining in volume, making you double over. "Oh, you're funny, Mr. Todd!" you wheezed, not caring the man you were addressing was looking at your drunken self with a completely neutral expression, not understanding in the slightest what was so funny "I have to go home! Where else would you have me spend the night?" you asked when you caught your breath, your laughter simmering down into tired giggles. Drunk laughing was hard, but really fun at the same time, you thought.

Sweeney reached out to take your arm again, turning you around to face the stairs like a puppet and started leading you to his home. "You can spend the night upstairs. If I sent you home, alone, you're sure to get robbed...or worse." his voice was cold and harsh and yet you had the sense this sudden change of tone was not due to anything you said. Not taking any chances, just in case, you kept your mouth shut and let him lead you up the stairs while you could feel your face heat up. It felt awfully wrong to just...invade his space like that. If there's one thing you learned about Sweeney, and let's be honest, there weren't many to choose from, it was that he was a very private person. At the same time, he invited you here. If he didn't want you in his space, he could've just let you stay downstairs with Minnie, she would take good enough care of you without a doubt. But what did all this mean?

You said nothing else as you let the barber move you along, much like a puppet, while trying to focus on every confusing thought and feeling that ran through your head. But your energy was quickly dwindling and you couldn't help but to succumb to sleep as soon as our head hit the pillow.

Regaining consciousness again was...unpleasant, to say the least. The first thing you registered was rain. Not very unusual for London though. The next thing was a piercing headache, that threatened to split your skull in two. Groaning, you flipped over in bed. That's when you noticed the smell. This didn't smell like your sheets... Slowly, but surely, the events of the previous night came back to you, even the less than appropriate ending of it. Blinking open your eyes, you let yourself get adjusted to the lighting of the room, before taking a look around. You were, in fact, in Mr. Todd's small abode and you were very probably in his bed too. You could feel heat creeping up your neck as you registered the all too familiar objects of the barber shop, now from a brand new perspective. There was the barber chair, as ominous as ever, the normal chair to the side, where you usually sat, now occupied by the master of the house.

Polishing and sharpening his blades, Sweeney sat by the window, seemingly uninterested and unbothered by basically a stranger waking up in his bed. His unwavering focus was only on his blades, a focus so intense it would send shivers down your spine, if you weren't so engrossed in your own embarrassment. Only when you began to sit up, your arms threatening to give out underneath you, did the barber tear his gaze away from his tools. You tried to get up to your feet as quickly as you could, manners all but forgotten, your only desire was to get out and never return to Mr. Todd's barber shop or Mrs. Lovett's meat pie establishment ever again. But your knees were wobbly and you felt in your body like a newborn fawn, so your quick escape proved to be harder than you thought.

Sweeney looked at you inquisitively and it seemed like he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it, the thought of anything he could and probably would have said making bile rise in your throat. Fighting the nausea, you pushed yourself off the bed and lightly stumbled before standing in front of the barber. "I am so sorry for what transpired yesterday, Mr. Todd." you apologised first and foremost after clearing your throat "You should not have had to witness any of that." looking awkwardly to the side, you continued "However I am very grateful for everything you have done for me yesterday." And with those last words, you bee lined it for the door, only briefly noticing the 'closed' sign on the door that should have been turned around probably hours ago. It wasn't until you were in the middle of the journey home that you realised you didn't even know what time it was, nor did you at least have the decency to make up the bed after you have slept in it. Which brought forth a question...Where did Mr. Todd sleep? There didn't seem to be another sleeping area nor any kind of furniture suitable for such activity in his living/working quarters. You weren't sure what made you blush more, the possibility that you shared a bed or the possibility that he stayed awake somewhere in the same space as you were the whole night. Both seemed strangely...intimate.

For the next few weeks, you avoided Fleet street like the plague. Luckily for you, your boss wasn't in need of a trim anytime soon, even though you did convince him to visit the barber's more than he did previously. But whenever you thought about the mysterious gentleman residing above the pie shop, hot embarrassment flowed through your body like lightning. And so you didn't remind your boss to upkeep his appearance and as usual, the big oaf wouldn't think of such thing himself. He had money, so what if he looked a bit disheveled? Everybody was saving up on everything they could, the rich and poor alike.

Mrs. Lovett was especially vocal about your absence. She worried that she really did offend you or did you wrong somehow during that a bit too wild night. Whenever Sweeney would appear in the shop to fetch his meal, she would bombard him with questions, if he had any news of you, your whereabouts, your wellbeing, or whether your boss' appointment was coming up anytime soon. She regretted now never asking for your address, with how much she'd come to like you in the time you've spent together. You brought a normalcy to her life that she's dreamed of oh so much.

And while Sweeney wasn't pretty much vocal at all towards your sudden absence, when he closed down for the day and looked out of his window, overlooking the grey London sky and dark and gloomy rooftops, he wondered where you could possibly be. What were you doing? Were you alright?

You had came into the vengeful barber's life unexpectedly and while at first Minnie's obsession with you irritated him, making his goals, his work, that much more dangerous, he couldn't help but notice your good nature. Not only towards his neighbour, even though with how strange the woman could be it was surprising in itself, but towards him, even towards your boss. It wasn't that you were naive, no, he could see in your eyes that you knew exactly how cruel and unjust this world was, and yet you still chose to be kind. Despite all the hardships he knew you were dealt by destiny, no, by other people, the biggest monsters on this earth, you still remained with your heart open to others. And he admired that. Your presence on Fleet street was like a beacon of clean light in the constant grey fog, when he sometimes glanced at the street below him and you happened to be there, he always recognized you, as if you shone more brightly than others.

The lonely man spent many a night pondering on what was it that made you occupy his mind so much, what made you so special. He still loved his wife, and his daughter, wherever she may be, that much he knew. But sometimes...sometimes when he looked at you, your face, as you were laughing with Mrs. Lovett about this or that, he could see her smile. And it was so reassuring, as if Lucy herself was sending her mark upon you, signaling to him that you were someone he needed to protect. And when he came to terms with this revelation, he swore to himself that that was exactly what he was going to do.

So of course it was no problem for him to let you spend a night in his bed. He found your drunken antics and your embarrassment the next morning quite endearing. If you would've paid more attention to him and your surroundings that morning, you would've noticed the small smirk on his face as he watched you clumsily apologize, even though he saw no reason for it. And you would've noticed the two cups of coffee, along with some painkillers standing prepared on the table near the bed. But Sweeney didn't think his actions would've driven you away from him and Mrs. Lovett like that. He knew there was nothing that he could do except wait for you to come back, although he didn't like the idea of something happening to you without him knowing it, being able to prevent it. And he didn't even want to think about the scenario that you would never be back. He saw the way you looked at him, studied him, the confusion in your eyes from the way he behaved so often and now he wanted nothing more than to tell you everything and sort things out. Even if he wasn't sure how exactly to do that. Benjamin was good with words, but Sweeney? Sweeney was all about action, because unlike Benjamin, Sweeney Todd knew just how little weight words could hold in the world.

It didn't take long for you to start missing Fleet street, with your two favourite residents, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. You contemplated when should you pay them a visit and how you would explain your avoidance of them, until after one night, when that became irrelevant.

It happened in the evening. You were let go from work for the day and while you were on your way home, thinking mostly about whether you had any leftovers from yesterday or if you had to cook dinner from scratch and not paying much attention to your surroundings, when you were jumped. Two men, none of which you knew, cornered you against a wall of a building along which you were walking, asking for some money. You, not wanting any more trouble than necessary, pulled out your pouch, where you kept all the change you needed, but it wasn't enough for whatever they were planning. With two figures towering at least a good head above from you, demanding you do what they say, you didn't dare look them directly in their faces, so you knew little of what they looked like. But they smelled awful and faintly of fish. When they asked to show them what more you had in your bag, yo asked them to leave you be, that you've already given them everything important you had on you. That proved to be a mistake, since one of them grabbed you roughly by the arms from behind, while the other ripped your bag from your hands and turned it upside down. You struggled to get away from the bastard's bruising grip and started calling out for help, which was another mistake. The guy that was going through your things, most of which were only daily necessities, such as your keys and whatnot, suddenly sprung up and hit you in the face, gruffly telling you to shut up, if you valued your life. It was at that point you noticed his voice was slightly slurred.

Luckily, an officer must've been patrolling nearby, or someone must've taken pity on you and called him over, it wasn't that late in the evening after all, because as soon as you heard the distinct sound of a bobby whistle, the first guy let you go while the second one hastily grabbed your notebook and both of them booked it down the street, weaving through the city's intricate alleyways. The officer quickly asked what happened and told you to stay put while he chased after them. But it wasn't even five minutes before he was back, informing you that he lost them and he asked you to accompany him to the police station to give a statement on what happened and they would see what could be done.

The next day, you showed up to work with a nasty looking black eye, without your notebook or a single penny. The police officers told you that with the limited description you provided they weren't sure how much could be done. After telling your boss what happened, he surprisingly took the matter quite seriously. Not only did you write down ever single appointment he needed to attend to in your notebook, but some quite serious and important information, codes to safes, finance tracking, different information having to do with sales and so on. He asked what police station you went to yesterday and said he would get in touch with the officers, since it wasn't impossible that the attack wasn't planned ahead and the notebook was exactly what someone was after. You didn't need or want to know anything more than that. Your boss also gave you two weeks off, to let your eye heal, commenting how it would seem weird if you accompanied him looking like that and he didn't need any more rumors being spread about him, like physically abusing his personnel. He gave you your money back, saying it was going from your next paycheck until the police got your original money back, plus some more to buy a new notebook. As incompetent as he could sometimes be, he was still a businessman, and even though his motivation for these choices was questionable, you were still glad he made them.

As soon as you were outside again, your legs immediately took you in the direction of Fleet street. Still quite shaken up after the incident, the thing you needed the most at that moment was a friend and something told you Minnie would not turn you down.

And you were not mistaken. As you took a step inside the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett's arms were around you, her worried and apologetic rambling reaching your ears as soon as they got used to the buzz of the busy establishment. As soon as the woman pulled away from you, her relieved expression turned to one of shock as she carefully cradled your cheek where the bruise was, asking "What in god's name happened?" Immediately she brought you to the back of the shop and fetched the cleanest rag, which was then promptly soaked in cold water, so that you could relieve some of the ache of the black eye. And she had you remain there until closing, spending her time between serving customers and preparing pies chatting with you. She informed you that she wasn't mad about your sudden disappearance, that she was just very worried and then she promptly asked you your address "In case you want to pull something on me like that again." she reasoned with a cheeky smile.

After Minnie closed down in the evening, you both could sit uninterrupted in the main area, with the businesswoman cleaning up here and there and re-wetting your rag. Anytime you tried to offer her help as a thank you, she would just sternly order you to sit back down and not even think about work, since you've been given 'a sick leave'. Just as she was done with cleaning and was about to head out to get rid of the dirty water, a person you were still dreading to meet walked into the room. You immediately knew who it was by the way Mrs. Lovett's eyes brightened, her face blooming into one of sweet happiness as she cooed out a greeting "Oh, Mr. Todd! Look who decided to join us today! Poor thing got mugged yesterday, can you believe it?" she shook her head, carrying her bucket out the door "So nice of you to join us, there are some pies hidden in the oven in the back for you!" she called behind her as the door clicked close after her.

There was nothing for you to do but turn around, your face heating up again, only praying Mr. Todd wouldn't pay attention to it. But to your slight surprise, he only stared intently at the black eye adorning your face, like a joke of a monocle the more posh men liked to wear when out and about. With a few quick strides, the barber was next to you, his hand under your chin, tipping your head upwards, so he could assess your wound better under the light. His face was contorted into a frown, but his eyes were nothing but gentle as he murmured "Who did this to you?" His voice was ice cold, but somehow you knew you didn't need to be scared. "I don't know." you whispered "The police are after them now." You both said nothing as you only continued to study each other.

When the sound of a door being opened could be heard, Sweeney gently let go of your chin and took a step back from you, but not quite leaving your side. Mrs. Lovett trotted happily back into the room, taking the seat across from you and looking up at her neighbour, she patted the chair beside hers. Not waiting for him to comply, which was good, because Sweeney did not move an inch from where he stood, she asked you, her expression concerned "Darling, do you think it'll be okay for you to walk home alone at this hour?"

Looking out of the window, you saw the street was getting dark. It would not take much more time for night to completely settle over the city. You felt so safe and comfortable, that you completely forgot about the passage of time. Surely there will be little to no people out at this hour. And those who will be outside roaming the streets are definitely not the kind of people you want to associate yourself with. And while you had no problem walking on the bring of darkness alone before, after yesterday's events, you couldn't help the cold shiver that ran down your back at the thought of the many alleyways you'd have to pass before getting home.

Seeing your hesitance, Mrs. Lovett placed her hand softly on yours "It's alright, love. You can stay here for the night! I'm sure there's plenty of room for one more person in the house." her smile was so reassuring, you couldn't help your own taking over your face. But you shook your head "As much as I appreciate your offer, I have to go home. The officers might need me for more questionings, it's best I don't stay out of the house too long." you explained with a small smile and got up from your chair. Surprisingly, it was Sweeney who spoke next "I'll walk you home. If you wouldn't mind, that is." he offered, his eyes flickering between your face and the table during the latter part. "Oh, Mr. Todd! Such a gentleman!" Minnie squealed adoringly, standing up as well "Trust me, love, with Mr. Todd, you're in good hands." something about the way she looked at the barber when she said that made you feel strange, but you had no reason not to believe her or the quiet man standing beside you. So you nodded and looked towards the window again "Best we head off though, I wouldn't want you to have to return when it's completely dark." you muttered, more to yourself and then looked at your companion for confirmation. The dangerous glint you caught flashing through his eyes made you shiver again, but you ignored it.

After hugging Mrs. Lovett goodbye, you were on your way. The first few minutes passed in complete silence, you had no idea what to say and Mr. Todd wasn't one for many words. Sighing, you decide to be the one to break the ice "I...I'm sorry, once again, Mr. Todd. For running out on you like that. You've done so much for me and I repaid you horribly." your gaze was set on the stone path as you apologised. For a while, the barber said nothing, which did not help your nerves at all. "Sweeney." That was the only thing he said. You whipped your head around to look at him, your mouth hanging agape in confusion. "I'm sorry?" Sweeney then looked at you, a single chuckle escaping his chest through his smirking lips. In the dim night lights of the London street, he looked possibly more attractive than ever before. "My name. I feel like we don't have to keep up such formalities, since you've spent a night in my bed already."

You couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, your face heating up. "You make it sound like something much more serious." you pouted. He chuckled again. This was the most you've heard him talk or just express himself in any way since you've known him. "And it wasn't? I don't let just anyone into my bed, you know." It was clear as day he was enjoying this. But his words held an underlying meaning, one which was much more deeper than the lighthearted teasing. Sweeney slowed into a stop and you followed suit beside him. The last street lamp was now behind him, leaving his face covered mostly in shadows. And yet you could see his eyes, vulnerable in a way he probably hasn't been in a long, long time, you could feel his intense gaze on your face, studying your every small reaction. "What are you saying?" you breathed out, your heart in your throat. Sweeney took a step closer "What I'm saying is that you've grown to be quite important to me. After that night..." he stopped, searching for the right words to continue "I realised many things. And I've realised...that I want to keep you close. To protect you. To know you and to allow myself to be known by you. If you'll let me, that is." and he slowly reached for your hand, holding it in both of his oh so gently. "Do you deem me worthy of knowing your heart? Your soul?"

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat as you were overwhelmed by sudden conflicting emotions. But the one that stood out from all of them was... "As long as you'll deem me worthy of knowing yours." you replied in almost a whisper. And with those words, that one sentence, it was as if the tension in the air disappeared all at once. Sweeney stood beside you once more, this time offering you his arm to take and after you've linked your arm through his, he continued to escort you home. Not just as an acquaintance, not as a friend...but perhaps not yet as a lover. But there was time for all of that. Right now, there was the chilly London night air, you and him. And you could figure out the details, such as breaking the news to Minnie, or discovering why exactly there was a trapdoor behind the barber chair, some other time. Tonight was just for you.

[thegnomelord]

NSFW; Smut idea rotting my brain nr.1749274: heavy pet play and Dom/sub dynamics with—

Cat shifters Ghost and Alejandro; being your good little kitties with nice bell collars around their necks in human and cat forms, that gingle softly whenever Ghost lazily goes down on Alejandro. Hearing Ale go from cursing in Spanish to mewling softly when Ghost purrs deep and gutteral around him when you scratch Ghost behind a feline ear. Also brushing Ghost's tail while he's in human form, biting Alejandro's shoulder to keep quiet when you rub the base of it.

Dog shifters Soap, Price, Rudy, Graves; you've basically got yourself a pack of dogs and that mangy coyote you mistook for an abused dog- Graves - is the bottom bitch. Sure, he tries to play top dog and bully Rudy since he's the smallest, but usually ends up mounted and knotted by Soap or Price and can't even do anything about it because of that cone of shame you keep around his head so he doesn't lick off what fur he has left. Usually comes running to hide behind you since you're strict (if you don't know about them), but when you go to sleep all bets are off.

Also Price def. runs the pack and keeps Johnny from exposing them too much (but leaves the punishment for Ghost to handle)

Also also cuddling on the bed with your two very big and very fluffy dogs and you're so conked out you don't even feel them shift into human bodies, Price gripping Johnny by the back on the neck and growling when he gropes you too much and you nearly wake up. Then Ghost just pulls him out of the bed like he's a whelp

Crow shifter Gaz; he's so sweet for a crow, sitting on your shoulder after his wing's healed and cawing whenever the others look at him with jealousy because he can get to places they can't. You're changing and you close the door? Not a problem for a bloke with wings who just flies out one window to spy on you through another window, and how could you possibly tell him apart from any other crow. Also his human form having his tail and just begging you constantly to preen it, complaining that he can't reach and looking at you with big begging eyes until you submit.

You end up having to move to a bigger house out in the countryside to house all the pets you've acquired and it's heaven for the perverts as A) no people to peek through the window and see strange men in your house at night, B) All the time in the world to be fucking pervers (headcannon: Johnny stole and burried most of your underwear in the back yard)

Idk mates @auspicioustidings help me with these thoughts I don't know what to doooo😓

[nglgfics]

The roadie - part 1

(Warning: Mention of an abusive relationship)

(18+)

Masterlist

You got there too early.

Not so early it looked desperate—just early enough that the air still held a touch of warmth, and the queue was just a vague idea, a scuff on the pavement in front of the venue.

You told yourself it was for the music.

A good spot. A clean view. Something to do.

But really, you just didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The venue itself was nothing special.

Brick walls with the paint peeling off in corners. Posters stapled over posters until the staples themselves seemed to be holding the whole place together.

You sat on the low wall near the front of the building and folded your arms against your chest, pretending not to notice the slow shuffle of crew slipping in and out of the side door.

There was a buzz in your chest you hadn’t expected. Restlessness. The edge of something you couldn’t name.

You hadn’t felt it in a while.

Not since everything ended. Not since the last few months of your previous relationship had scraped the shine off everything you used to love.

By the end, he’d made you feel like you were always the one in the way. And it was strange how long that feeling stayed, even after he was gone.

You didn’t realise you were watching someone until he looked back.

Lean. Dark shaggy hair. Hoodie half-zipped, cigarette tucked behind his ear. One of the crew, by the look of it.

He’d been dragging a case toward the door, moving like he had all the time in the world. Like he did this in his sleep.

And then—he looked up.

Eyes sharp. Blue. Steady.

And he didn’t look away.

Not right away.

Your breath caught—just a little.

You looked down like it hadn’t happened. Like it didn’t land right in your chest.

A while later, Lisa appeared from god-knows-where with flushed cheeks, smudged eyeliner, and a half-sure grin.

“There you are,” she said, like she’d been looking for you. “You’re not gonna believe who I just met.”

You raised a brow. “Let me guess. Local with a band, four pints in, thinks you’re his twin flame?”

“Mark,” she said brightly. “One of the crew. And he’s fit.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He said he knows the one you were staring at.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were. He said your guy’s been pretending not to look since load-in.”

You stared at her. “You spoke to him?”

“No,” she said, drawing out the word. “Mark did.”

And right on cue, Mark himself appeared—tallish, lean, dark hair and tired eyes that looked like they’d seen every gig and every afterparty since 1989.

He gave Lisa a grin, then turned to you.

You blinked. “What look?”

Mark smirked. “Noel said you’ve got that ‘don’t talk to me’ face. Which apparently made him want to.”

You felt your stomach dip, then flip.

Lisa laughed. “I told you.”

And before you could think of a clever reply, the side door creaked open again.

And he was there.

Up close, he looked a little older than you’d guessed. Early twenties, maybe mid. Shaggy fringe half in his eyes, hoodie sleeves shoved up past his elbows. Pale blue stare, unreadable.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just looked at you.

Like he’d been thinking about what to say, and hadn’t landed on anything yet.

Mark elbowed him. “Didn’t take much to drag him out.”

Noel flicked him a look. “Cheers for the subtle intro.”

His voice was dry. Quiet.

That soft, clipped Northern tone that somehow made everything sound like it came with a warning label.

You raised an eyebrow, turned toward Noel. “So. I’ve got a don’t talk to me face?”

Noel didn’t flinch. “You’ve got that look like you’d make a bloke regret trying.”

You tilted your head. “But you tried anyway?”

He shrugged, taking a slow drag off his cigarette. “Didn’t say I was clever.”

Lisa laughed too loud. Mark choked on a swig of something flat.

You didn’t laugh.

But you smiled.

Small. Real.

He caught it.

Noel’s gaze held yours for a second too long, like he was trying to decide whether he’d already said too much.

Then he looked down at the ground. Scratched his neck.

You studied him. “You always come out swinging, or is that just for special occasions?”

He shrugged. “Only when someone sends Mark to do the talking.”

Mark scoffed. “Don’t make me lie for you next time.”

Noel didn’t reply. Just lit his cigarette and looked back at you—calmer now.

And quieter.

The four of you stood there in the cool shade, not really talking. Lisa started chatting again. Mark joined in.

But Noel stayed near you.

And when he caught your eye one last time before heading inside, he didn’t smile.

But he didn’t look away.

By the time the house lights dropped, the room was packed and heavy with heat.

You were close to the stage—close enough to feel the bass through your chest, close enough to smell sweat and lager and a little bit of something green wafting from the crowd two bodies over.

Lisa had peeled off before the band even came on. Some promise of a drink from Mark and the low-lit pull of a back corner. You let her go. You didn’t need company right now.

You were here for the noise.

And maybe—though you weren’t going to say it out loud—for him.

The band walked onstage like they weren’t trying to impress anyone. No grand entrance. Just a quick nod, a burst of tuning, a thud of the bass drum—and then they were in it.

The sound hit fast and full. Familiar but still a little unsteady, like it could go off the rails if someone wasn’t keeping it in line.

You closed your eyes for the first few bars, let it pour over you.

And then you saw him.

Leaning just off stage, near the monitors. Headset around his neck, sleeves pushed up again, arms folded like he was half-listening, half-bored—but his eyes weren’t on the band. They were on you.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t smile.

But you felt it.

That steady blue gaze, lit briefly by the stage flash, landing like a palm pressed to the centre of your chest.

It wasn’t performative. He wasn’t trying to be caught. He was just… looking.

And when you didn’t look away something shifted.

The crowd bounced into the chorus around you, arms flying, bodies knocking into each other like waves. You moved with them without thinking, loose-limbed and a little unmoored.

The music was good. Better than you expected. But your focus was split. Every time your eyes drifted left, he was still there.

Sometimes he was adjusting a cable. Sometimes talking into the mic clipped to his collar.

But he always found you again. And held your gaze.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

You weren’t used to being seen without being assessed.

And he wasn’t doing that.

He was just… taking you in. Like he didn’t need anything from you, but didn’t want to miss whatever it was you were giving away without meaning to.

Near the end of the set, the lights turned low and golden. The band slowed into a deeper groove, something heavy and sludgy that made the floor hum through the soles of your boots.

You let your head tilt back. Closed your eyes again.

Not trying to be anything. Just letting go.

And when you opened them—

He was still watching.

And for a moment, you wondered if he was doing the exact same thing.

Letting go of whatever it was he normally held onto.

You held his gaze a second too long.

This time, he looked away first.

When the last chord rang out and the crowd erupted, you didn’t move right away.

Your hands were still clenched slightly. Your heart louder than the drums had been.

You turned slowly, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before the house lights came up.

But he was already gone.

The air outside was cooler than you expected, sharp against your skin where your shirt clung with sweat. The crowd spilled out around you in uneven clusters—some lighting cigarettes, others still singing as they passed, like the set hadn’t fully ended.

You stood just outside the venue, back to the wall, arms crossed, the hum of it all still running under your skin.

Noel hadn’t reappeared yet.

Not that you were waiting.

Not exactly.

Lisa spotted you first, half-drunk and glowing with the kind of post-gig high she was built for.

“There she is,” she called, already steering Mark toward you.

He had a pint in his hand from god knows where, and was still mid-joke as they reached you.

“You just disappear when the lights come up now?” Lisa asked, nudging your elbow.

“Just stepped outside,” you said.

Mark leaned back against the wall beside her. “Good show, yeah?”

You nodded. “Better than expected.”

Lisa gave you a look. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with who was watching you the entire time, would it?”

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

Because just then—he walked out.

Hood up now, but not over his head. Smoke already curling from the cigarette he lit without breaking stride.

His eyes found you before he joined the group.

He didn’t smile. But he looked… settled. Like something clicked back into place just from seeing you again.

He stepped in next to Mark, who gave him a quick nudge. “Took your time.”

“Had to wrangle a bassist with a God complex,” Noel muttered, voice flat.

Lisa laughed. “Sounds like you.”

Noel side-eyed her. “I’ve got a different kind of complex.”

Then, to you—calmly: “Didn’t lose you then.”

You shrugged. “I’m hard to shake.”

A beat. You caught the edge of a smile in the smoke.

The four of you stood there a while, mid-conversation, mid-linger. Mark talking, Lisa laughing, the pub across the street still open but looking less inviting by the second.

You didn’t say much.

Neither did Noel.

But you caught him watching you when the others weren’t looking.

Not intensely. Not obviously.

Just… aware of you.

Like the silence between you was saying more than the words around you.

And when Lisa said something to Mark that made him laugh too loud, Noel leaned slightly toward you. Just close enough that you felt the shift in pressure.

“You alright?” he asked, quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He looked straight ahead, blew out a stream of smoke.

“Yeah. Better now.”

And then—he reached out.

You didn’t even notice at first.

It was that subtle.

Just the backs of his fingers brushing yours.

Once.

Then again.

A slow trace along the side of your hand, deliberate but light.

You felt it all the way through your chest.

You didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

He didn’t look at you.

Just left his hand near yours.

Not touching now. But close.

Like the space between was the point.

Lisa started to say something to you, but Noel stepped back before she could.

“Alright,” he said to Mark. “We should head.”

Mark nodded. “Tourbus waits for no man.”

Lisa glanced at you. “You good?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She gave you a little look—somewhere between approval and suspicion—then linked her arm through Mark’s again as the two of them started off.

Noel lingered.

“Poole?” he said.

You met his eyes. “Yeah.”

He gave a slow nod. “Alright.”

Then—just before he turned—he stepped in one half-step closer.

And with the same unhurried hand that had brushed yours minutes earlier, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

Soft. Casual.

But not careless.

His knuckles grazed your cheek.

And you swore—for a second—he looked like he was about to say something else.

But he didn’t.

He just gave you one last look.

Then turned, and walked away.

—-

You almost didn’t come.

Lisa was supposed to be with you—cheap hotel, plastic cups of wine, the familiar buffer of her laughter. But she’d called that morning—half breathless, half guilty—saying she’d picked up a shift she couldn’t turn down.

“Manchester,” she promised. “I’m there. Swear on my nan.”

You told her it was fine. You meant it, mostly.

But the closer the train took you to Poole, the more that excuse stopped feeling like a reason.

Because the truth was—

you’d been thinking about him.

Not constantly. Not dramatically. But often.

He slipped in when you were least expecting it—during songs, on long walks, in that quiet moment just before sleep. The way he’d looked at you. That almost-smile. The way he said things like he didn’t mean them, but always did.

You hadn’t said anything. Not to Lisa. Not even to yourself, not properly.

But you knew it.

And you hadn’t wanted it to end outside a venue, without at least seeing him once more.

You wandered down the side of the building on instinct, not expecting anything.

But you saw him before he saw you.

Leaning against the wall, hoodie open, cigarette between his fingers. He looked like he wasn’t waiting for anyone.

Until he saw you.

He straightened, flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushed it out with the heel of his boot. Walked toward you without hesitation.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said.

Then—after a beat, softer, like he wasn’t planning to say it—

“Thought about it though.”

The words landed somewhere low in your chest.

Not romantic. Not flirtatious. Just real. And far more than you expected.

You didn’t answer.

He didn’t ask you to.

He came to a stop a few feet from you. Just far enough for the space between you to crackle.

You could smell the smoke on his clothes. Faint engine oil. The kind of scent that clung to people who lived in vans and venues.

“Lisa not with you?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Got called into work.”

He nodded. “That checks out.”

You smiled—small. “She says she’s making it to Manchester.”

He tipped his chin. “That’ll be a mess.”

A pause.

Not awkward. Just… cautious. Like both of you were still trying to figure out how real this was.

“Didn’t expect you to come alone,” he said after a moment. Not teasing. Just observant.

You shrugged. “Neither did I.”

“Brave,” he said.

You gave a soft scoff. “Stupid, more like.”

His mouth twitched. But he didn’t say anything more.

And that was fine. You liked the quiet with him.

You both stood like that for a while. The noise from inside thudded dully through the walls. A door slammed somewhere down the alley.

But it didn’t touch the silence between you.

He glanced over once, like he was about to speak again, and then—

“Noely.”

The voice cut through the air like someone flipping a switch.

You turned just as she appeared.

Blonde. Confident. Effortless. That kind of beauty that moved like it knew where it was going.

She didn’t look at you.

She walked right up to him, hand brushing his sleeve like she’d done it before.

“Didn’t think I’d find you still playing places like this,” she said, already smiling.

Noel blinked. “Jess?”

“Passing through. Saw the Inspirals name up. Figured I’d stop by.”

She didn’t explain more than that. She didn’t need to.

And he didn’t step back.

You did.

Not dramatically—just a quiet shift in weight, a retreat so small no one else would’ve noticed.

But inside, something folded in on itself.

Jess hadn’t looked at you. She didn’t have to. She moved like someone who was used to being welcome, used to being wanted. She touched him without asking, smiled like she already knew where the evening might end, and Noel didn’t stop her.

He didn’t encourage it either.

But he didn’t stop her.

And that was enough.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly.

It was the old reflex kicking in. The one you’d trained yourself not to name.

Because this—this moment—felt too familiar.

You’d been in something like this before. A relationship that lived in those blurred edges. Where every woman was “just a friend,” every moment was easily explained, and your discomfort was framed as insecurity.

He’d told you you were too sensitive. Too reactive.

He’d made you apologise for being hurt.

So you learned to pull back before it showed.

To smile and excuse yourself before you were made to feel small for needing clarity.

You weren’t angry now. Not with Noel. Not even with her.

But your body still remembered what it felt like to be wrong about someone. To believe in something soft, only to realise it was hollow.

And that memory—that instinct—was louder than anything he could’ve said.

You looked at Noel.

He’d turned slightly, like he was just now remembering you were there. His brow creased, like maybe something had registered—that shift in you. The withdrawal. The cold.

“She’s just—” he started.

You shook your head quickly. “It’s fine.”

He stepped forward. “It’s not—”

“I said it’s fine.” You smiled. You hated how automatic it felt.

That smile had saved you before. Smoothed over a thousand sharp edges. It was the one you wore when you didn’t want anyone to see that you were hurting.

Because if you didn’t show it, they couldn’t use it.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you said, and it came out steadier than you expected.

Noel’s mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to answer. Maybe explain. Maybe apologise.

But you didn’t wait.

You glanced toward the door. “I should go in.”

You gave him the same smile again—soft, unbothered, practiced.

And then you turned and walked away.

Not because you didn’t want to stay, but because you weren’t ready to find out if he would’ve let you.

You stayed at the back of the venue.

Close to the wall.

Hands in your pockets.

Trying not to feel stupid.

The band played loud, tight, messy in a way that worked.

You watched them.

And sometimes, you watched him.

He looked for you.

You could feel it.

His eyes swept the crowd more than once—searching. Quick. Focused.

But you didn’t let him find you.

Not fully.

You just stood there and told yourself you hadn’t misread anything.

Even if some part of you already knew you had.

Part 2