#pfh wips

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

ahem. sliding you a little snippet of a simon riley x reader something under the cut.

“y’good?” simon grunts out, clearly holding himself back from sliding into you. 

you manage to hiss out a prolonged yes through your teeth as simon rocks his hips forward in a controlled thrust, the movement causing his car to roll on its suspension again. you’re practically delirious from where you’re split open on his cock, the warm muggy air inside the car making your head spin.

you’re completely surrounded by simon. the bulk of his cotton covered chest blocking your vision of the interior of the car with one of his thick forearms propping himself up so he doesn’t crush you under his weight. the thought of being smothered by him makes you clench down and his slow thrusts stutter to a stop. 

“don’t - don’t fuckin’ do that. y’gonna make me come if you keep that up.” he rumbles from above you sounding pained between heaving breaths that fog up the windows even further.

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

crawling out of my depression hole to drop a little WIP wednesday snippet courtesy of a screenshot on my phone because Last Leg Fred (my laptop) is still in his death throes

and a big thank you to @dragonnarrative-writes for the tag and the very excellent fic they wrote as a fundraising treat 💜

it’s not my usual fandom (CoD), so have a little something i’m cooking up for Ted Lasso under the cut!

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

it's technically wednesday in my timezone so have a WIP wednesday snippet for a fic that i've been ignoring since i thought about it a year ago.

featuring competitive eater soap x paramedic reader.

tw: emetophobia/vomit, johnny being an idiot, medical inaccuracies that you will graciously gloss over please and thank you.

__ __ __

the first time you meet johnny mactavish, he's crying. 

okay no, he's not crying exactly but you have no other way to describe the way tears are streaming from bloodshot eyes or the way sweat pours from his forehead. 

"steamin' j-jesus!" he cuts himself off to cough violently, twisting head to pull his away from the grounding points of your smooth nitrile covered hands that cup his face. 

technically it's your day off. but here you are, crouched next to possibly the stupidest man you've ever met (aside from the bloke who got his head stuck inside of a traffic cone on a dare) at the mouth of the first aid tent of the local food festival.

“how’re you feeling?” you ask, moving to rummage through the unwieldy med bag next to your leg. fucking festival med bags, they’re never organised and always half stocked somehow.

a mohawked head lolls, rolling to face you and tear filled blue eyes meet yours. his pupils are blown out so only the thinnest ring of sky blue edges the fathomless depths, contrasting fetchingly with the broken capillaries in his sclera. 

“‘m havin’ a spiritual experience.” the man replies, a shaky grin squishing the apples of his blotchy cheeks. you think it’d probably be rude to point out that he has flecks of pepper stuck in his teeth so you don’t, even as you snort out a disbelieving sound. 

“yeah? how’s that going for you?”

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

so i lied about getting a whole fic posted (i'm re-writing it) but i blew some cobwebs off the leather daddy price thought i had back in april and i thought i'd share a snippet chunk in honour of it being wip wednesday today.

cw/tw: alcohol mention, transmasc reader, public sex/semi-public sex, reader is wearing a packer, reader's genitals are referred to as both clit and cock in this snippet.

“w-wait, i, uh - hah - need to tell you something.” you manage to pant out into a sweat slick neck, tilting your hips away from his insistent exploration. 

glittering blue eyes pin you in place from under the brim of his hat and your head spins with a heady mix of tequila and desire that not even your sudden nervousness can extinguish.

“yeah? what’s that then sweetheart?” the stranger’s low rumble is nearly lost to the pounding bassline you can hear through the locked bathroom door. he lowers his face to suck a mark onto your neck, evidently wanting to leave a claim for all to see when you eventually stagger out of here.

“i’m - fucking hell -” you break off to moan loudly as he nips at your earlobe. jesus, you’re really learning things about yourself tonight. you’d never thought of your ears as an erogenous zone, clearly an oversight on your part. 

“go on, i’m listening.” he murmurs. the prickle of his moustache against the side of your neck makes you pant desperately and your hips jerk forward searching for friction. your packer catches against your swollen clit and you feel his fingers tug at the zipper of your borrowed jeans and pop the button of the fly one-handed. thick fingers slide into your underwear, over the neatly trimmed patch of hair on your mons, to lightly pinch at your clit – completely ignoring the flaccid cock you had painstakingly tucked into the pouch in your boxer briefs. 

your breath catches in your throat. oh god. 

he groans and you feel the vibration against your chest.

“it’s my lucky fucking night.” you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or to the universe at large but before you can question him further he lifts his head to slot his lips over yours. 

you’re not ashamed to admit that you whimper into the kiss. it’s absolutely filthy, his whiskey flavoured tongue slides against yours, his facial hair sending little pinpricks of pleasure when he tilts his head so that he can deepen the kiss further. everything fades away except the feeling of his lips on yours and his fingers rubbing small circles on your cock.

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

it's not wip wednesday but i've been poking various WIPs for fun tonight so have a snippet of something i started back in november 2024 under the cut.

CW: alcohol / hangovers and the assorted symptoms (headache, nausea)

you wake up with a thick head and a mouth that tastes exactly like the inside of an ashtray left out in a pub beer garden – sticky, yeasty and disgustingly ashy. 

“oh, fuck me.” you groan, flinching at the volume of your own voice as you bury your face into a surprisingly warm t-shirt. 

“shhh, not so loud.” the t-shirt rasps.

/-/

wait. 

shit.

shit. shit. shit. 

your stomach takes this moment to roll uneasily and you break out in a cold sweat. 

“‘m i deid?” the t-shirt, which, now that your hangover has decided to drag it’s godawful mickey finns – why the fuck did you drink mickey finns?! – flavoured fingers out of your ears, sounds an awful lot like the man you may or may not have drunkenly snogged last night. 

oh so slowly you lift your face away from the sinfully soft heather grey cotton. oh fuck. 

“oh fuck.” you blurt out. because, yep, there he was. johnny “never have i ever choked on six inches” mactavish.

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

oh hey look another snippet of something for wip wednesday because i missed a few and i feel a little bad.

kyle "gaz" garrick x AFAB!reader

cw/tw: pet play, smut (PiV), breath play, spit, reader gets called "puppy", reader's genitals referred to as "cunt".

kyle grunts in time with his thrusts, shoving his cock deeper into your cunt, punching desperate ah-ah-ahs out from you as you scrabble for purchase against the rug in front of the sofa. 

“f-fuck yes. that’s it, puppy.” kyle huffs, his hands like two brands on your hips, dragging you back to meet his brutal pace. your knees are burning from the friction and your tongue lolls out of your open mouth, a thin trickle of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth as you keen and whine brainlessly, no better than a bitch in heat.  one of kyle’s hands leave your hips to hook clumsy fingers in the back of your collar, pulling it tight against your neck as the weight of him pushes your cheek into the rug. your elbows collapse out from under you and kyle’s weight shifts so his sweat soaked chest slides along your back, his pace doesn’t falter for a second and you howl as he fucks deeper into you, the thick head of his cock drilling relentlessly against your g-spot.

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

okay so i lied about not continuing the werewolf thing. have another blurb.

trigger warnings: alcohol mention.

the skin on the back of your neck prickles uncomfortably as you watch the four strangers traipse into your pub, your territory, from behind the bar.

they're clearly scoping out the exits as they move through the early evening crowd and you fight the urge to growl as three of them peel away to sit at ed's usual booth in the back corner.

"alright mate? four pints of hobgoblin ruby. cheers."

your eyes snap back to the mutton-chopped stranger in front of you and you offer him a short nod, ignoring the affable twinkle in his shockingly blue eyes.

"£19.76."

"didn't realise the price of a pint went up so much." the stranger whistles lowly at the cost and fishes out a crisp £20 note from his wallet which you take carefully, avoiding his calloused fingers.

"mm." you shrug and hand him his change, ignoring the smell of copper from the till drawer and move away to grab the glasses and beer mats.

over the smell of hops and long extinguished cigarettes you catch the sharp scent of metal, not unusual but in this particular instance it makes your nose itch and a low rumble sounds from your chest unbidden.

silver.

[pfhwrittesabandoned]

good morning. have a snippet of pervy!reader because some cobwebs got blown out and i've been awake all night.

john "soap" mactivish x female!reader x kyle "gaz" garrick

there’s a pause as kyle waits for johnny to blink whatever love hearts are clouding his vision out of his eyes before kyle plasters on his most charming smile and offers up his hand for you to shake. 

“kyle, lovely to meet you.” and yeah, maybe it was overkill to drop a wink at you but hey, it’s always charmed the knickers off everyone he’s met before. no harm, no foul as that american prick graves had said once upon a time. 

(it’s hours later when kyle is flat on his back as you bounce on his cock as johnny begs you to let him come one more time, that he thinks he may have miscalculated. badly.)