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archaeren · 5 months ago

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How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

#creative writing #writers block #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #writerscommunity #fanfic writing #writeblr #writing advice

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monstersflashlight · 3 months ago

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Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning again! Means a whole lot <3 Hope you like it, it was super fun to write.

Request: Two Co workers in an office setting where they have to work closely together every day, one is a male!werewolf, the other is a fem!bunny girl that experiences heat. Bunnygirl is going through heat, trying to focus on the task and trying not to run to the bathroom to masturbate. Werewolf notices this, they have a convo about her being in heat, and werewolf offers to help her out. She almost says yes but says no and is afraid it would be unprofessional, he gets closer to her and rubs her clit and she relents for the chance at relief and to focus back on work. He fingers her and eats her out in her cubicle. Aaaaand more scenes of him “helping” her out until eventually they just start fucking at her apartment before work It becomes an at least twice a day thing for the duration of her heat, half the time in The cubicle half the time in his car, both trying to convince themselves it’s just so she can focus on work again,(though werewolf is a little smug about it) and the werewolf is just helping her out as a coworking favor, nothing more, but they’re both secretly catching feelings.

The key to productivity

Werewolf x fem!werebunny || heat, oral sex, fingering, knotting, semi-public sex, dub-con (kinda?)

You told your doctor you were feeling weird and the blood tests came back positive. You were going into heat, and your suppressants stopped working. He told you he could give you different ones, but you would have to ride at least two heats before that. You tried to argue that you couldn’t do it, you had to work, you had stuff to do… But there was no other way around it.

That’s how you find yourself in the middle of your stupidly boring desk job shift when the first wave hit. You think you are dealing okay with it, moving a bit more than normal, but everything is going as normally would. The world feels a bit off, but you convince yourself you can do it. Nobody has to know. You can ride the heat off and be okay after it. You can. You are a strong werebunny and you can get through that and more. Totally…

Surprisingly for anybody: you cannot.

Your cubicle coworker, a big werewolf that you might or might not have a crush on is the first one to notice. “Why are you so restless?” He asks in the middle of your day.

You turn your chair around and look at him trying to look confused as you deny it. “I- I’m not restless.” As you say it, you start feeling the blush creeping at your cheeks, your ears twitching.

“Yes, you are. And,” he sniffs the air, “aroused?” You blush harder. “Are you going into heat?” His tone is teasing and you want to kick that stupid grin off his face. “Can I help?” He grins at you, such a puppy gesture that you want to kiss his stupid snout as he shows you his canines.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused. There’s no way he’s offering what you think he’s offering, is it? There’s no way a big handsome werewolf like he wants you, a werebunny nobody. No way.

But to your surprise, he just rationalizes it. “We need to finish this project today, and we can’t if you keep being jumpy and stressed and clearly restless. Let me help. Smelling how wet you are I bet it won’t even take that long.” The way he says it like it meant nothing should have been offending, but instead it turns you on more, your pussy twitching over nothing as you whined low. You cover your mouth instantly, embarrassed. “Come on, it’s just sex between coworkers, just some friendly... helping out.” His tone is teasing but there’s a hint of heat under it.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you just because I smell…” You lower your tone, “like arousal.” You have to spit the last part out because you are so embarrassed you don’t even want to know how red your face is.

“I offered, remember? Also, you smell fucking delicious, I could eat you whole.” His confession makes you want to squirm, your brain sending alarm bells because of butterflies taking flight inside your tummy, but you ignore them. “Is that a yes? Can I touch your wet pussy?” His smirk is even more teasing now, and your pussy twitches again, your clit demanding attention.

You blush as you ask: “Why do you need to be so… crude?” His words are turning you on but you don’t want him to know that.

He smirks bigger, all his teeth showing and making you squirm under his heated eyes. “You like it, I can smell the spike of arousal when I tell you dirty things.” He sniffs the air and makes a humming noise, like he’s savoring your smell.

“Yo- You can?” You choked out, surprised by that but also embarrassed about it.

“Yes, I can. Your smell turns sweeter when I talk about licking your clit and finger fucking your tight pussy.” You groaned at his words, his crudeness indeed doing it for you. Damn him for being so fucking hot and filthy. And damn you for finding it extra hot.

“Okay,” you whisper. “You can help me.” In the back of your brain, there’s a voice saying that is going to be a bad idea, but you ignore that too, the voice that tells you to let him fuck you senseless is a lot louder.

“Hell yeah!” His enthusiasm shocks you, but you don’t have time to say anything. “Come here.” He didn’t let you move your chair, he grabbed it and pulled, positioning it next to his across the cubicle. You groaned, the manhandling apparently doing it for you, too. Good goddess, why was everything he did so hot?

He parts your legs with a forceful pull, making you groan and cover your mouth with your hand, once again dying of embarrassment. He chuckles and goes for it. You were never so happy to have worn a skirt in your life. He doesn’t even take your panties off, he pulls them to the side and starts rubbing your clit like a pro.

You are muffling your sounds as he chuckles and keeps going, acting uninterested as you squirm under his ministrations. Not two seconds later he has a finger in your pussy as his thumb circles over your oversensitive clit. And then he adds a finger, and by the time he has three, not even a minute has passed. Your pussy is so eager to get his attention that it feels like it’s claiming him, like it doesn’t want to let him go. And you… You can’t deny how good it is, how fucking filthy it feels to be finger fucked in the middle of the work day, in your cubicle, by tour werewolf coworker who you might or might not have a crush on.

And when he leans down and whispers against your ear: “You smell so fucking sweet. Can’t wait to eat you out.” The way he just assumes that’s gonna happen it’s what does it. As soon as he says that, you are coming around his fingers. The dirtiness of the situation making you orgasm in less than two minutes, how embarrassing. When you come down from the high he looks at you and asks softly: “Do you feel better?” You nod, too shy to say something.

He gets back to work and so do you. And it does help, you feel a lot more focused for a couple hours. But after that you go back to being restless and needy, your pussy sensitive and your panties dripping wet. This time around he goes under the table and eats you out until you are panting against your hand and your chair is so wet you have to get tissues to clean it afterwards.

That continues for a couple days. It starts only in the cubicle, but soon turns into hourly toilet trips, he tails after you like an eager puppy. It shouldn’t make you so happy, but it does. He finger fucks you, sucks your clit and pinches your nipples. He learns every single erogenous zone in your body and plays you like a fine instrument.

Every. Single. Hour.

By the third day, he suggests following you home to help you out a bit more. He goes down on you for at least three hours, making humming noises as he enjoys himself. You try to return the favor, but he stops you, going down on you once again and grunting as he jerks off while at it. You can’t think of anything more erotic than him jerking himself off with his big paw as he eats you out until his face is shiny with your juices. Having him there… Like that… It’s driving you a bit insane.

It’s the day before your heat ends when you start feeling it worse than ever, the last spike of It making you feel restless and anxious. You won’t stop moving, your legs bouncing up and down non stop and making him look at you with concern in his eyes. He fingers you under your desk once again, making you come messily as his other hand rubs your nipples over your dress. But it’s not enough, not nearly enough.

He helps you out like that two more times before you start whining. It’s too much but not nearly enough, and his concerned face only grows and grows. You don’t know what to tell him, your forehead is sweaty and your pussy is so wet you can feel it sticking to your chair. It makes you feel disgusting, but you can’t do nothing but to roll your hips in an effort to relieve some pressure, without any luck.

“Let’s get out of here,” he tells you after hearing you sigh for the thousand times in ten minutes. His eyes on you only make the heat stronger, your pussy wetter.

You look at him, your eyes unfocused, brain fuzzy. “What?” You look at him scandalized. There’s no way he’s suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You need relief and I have a perfectly big car outside with tinted windows where I can knot you sweet pussy and get you more… focused.” You blush hard at his choice of words, your ears twitching at the top of your head. He’s right, you know he’s right, but you’ve never been knotted, what if…

“I’ve never been knotted,” you confess. He growls at you and you blush harder, the heat in his eyes turning molten lava when he looks down at you.

“That ends today.” He pulls at your arm and you try to suppress a giggle at his insistence. “Let’s go.”

Before you can think twice about it, or more like before your heat-fuzzy head lets you understand what’s fully happening, you are naked and spread in the back of his car. He pushes your legs against your chest, folding you almost completely and going right for your pussy. You’d never know somebody who enjoyed oral as much as him, good goddess does he love to eat pussy, specifically yours… And you can’t complain about it. He’s great at it and you are cumming before he has even two fingers inside your pussy.

When he comes back for air and looks up at you from between your legs, his face is all shiny with your juices and his perfect fucking smirk is showing all his canines, making a spark of danger grow inside of you and sending your arousal even higher.

“Please…” You beg in a broken moan, that’s the only word you can get out. Your heat-induced brain is completely off line seeing him like that, seeing him like the representation of lust and deprivacy. He’s your best wet dream turned into reality, and it’s driving you insane.

He seems to see something in your face because he’s suddenly smiling tenderly at you and unbuttoning his pants. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you.” His dick is so big, you’ve seen it before when he was jerking himself as he fingered you in the cubicle, but nothing could have prepared you for the feel of it.

He starts pushing inside slowly but surely, his dick so big you want to scream, but he covers your mouth before you can do it. He starts fucking you at a slow pace, letting you accommodate his girth, but it’s not enough. It feels like torture for you.

You urge him to go faster, harder, but it’s just a muffled moan against his palm. He seems to understand you either way, chuckling and complying. He fucks into you deep and hard, hitting your G-spot with every thrust and making your eyes roll back into your head as he grunts with every thrust.

“Are you ready?” You nod fervently, licking his hand and rolling your hips against his dick buried deep inside of you.

Your scream is muffled by his hand when the knot starts expanding in you. It’s exhilarating, way more than you expected. So big, so much, so wonderful… And then he starts coming in you and you feel every little twitch and spur of his come, making you dizzy with pleasure as you come and come and come… It feels like the longest and strongest orgasm of your life.

When the knot goes down and he helps you get back into your dress, slowly caressing your body while at it, you realize two things: 1) You could never live through a heat without a knot ever again, and 2) You might be a bit in love with your werewolf coworker.

Fuck.

Reminder that you can also commission me (info here).

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marvelouslizzie · 1 year ago

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Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard.

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order.

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features.

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right?

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him.

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved.

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down.

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious.

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.”

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that.

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?”

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck.

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

“That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you.

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess.

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too.

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

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luveline · 7 months ago

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hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey

ty (ily)!! fem!reader

Spencer’s feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and you’re pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. It’s completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine he’s ever read.

“Why are you frowning?” you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together.

“I’m not.”

You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. “You’re frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.” You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs.

“I’m tired,” he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you.

“You’ve had a long day, that’s why. When we get back to your place I’ll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.”

“I don’t want a foot massage. My feet don’t even hurt,” he lies.

“Don’t bother.” You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. “I know all your tells, baby boy,” —he laughs through a wrinkled nose— “nothing gets past me.”

“Why’d you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?” he asks. You could’ve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.

“They do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and it’s kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?” You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable.

“Do you think I should get someone to do my laundry?” he asks.

“You can afford it. But maybe not. There’s nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.” You side eye him carefully. “Maybe I’m over the top.”

“You’re high maintenance,” he agrees. “Is it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.”

“What? Why would you pay for it?”

“‘Cos we’re together?” He’s more worried than dry about it. “I’d like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“And I won’t… s’kind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.” You’re blinking funny. “I think that’s more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?”

Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think you’re interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. “I like maintaining you.”

You curl your arm through his. “That’s a funny way to say it.”

He laughs at your obvious delight. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “You like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.”

“Thank you very much,” you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. “You make me happier than you know.”

His cheeks turn pink. He doesn’t need to see himself to confirm. It’s a high statistical probability.

“Kiss?” you ask, voice still soft.

Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. You’re like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat.

“What if you pay for my dry cleaning,” you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. “And I pay for yours?”

Spencer thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, just you.”

“Well, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?” you ask. “Would you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?”

He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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minminbunny · 3 months ago

Text

Best Friends to Lovers AU - Big Cock Singer! Bang Chan/Virgin Writer Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"Chris, are you bitchless?" you asked, biting the ends of your pencil. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "If you mean single then, yeah?" he said, setting his headphones down. "What brought this up?" he asked, leaning back against his chair. You purse your lips, "It's just your new song for the talent show. It's very intimate," you said, pointing the pencil at him. Chan chuckled, rubbing the back of his nape, "I didn't write that, Changbin helped," he said, gulping down the denial. You squint your eyes, "Damn so your co-writer was the one that was getting laid?" you said, tilting your head.

Chan nodded, "Exactly, I don't have time for a one night stand. I work at night," he said, defending himself. "Was it Changbin's idea to be topless too?" you asked, seeing through his lies. Chan gulped, "That wasn't me. It was a stunt devil. That looked exactly like me," he said, his ears heating. You nodded your head, "Ah. Is that so? He sounded just like you, too. That's amazing," you said, your tone heavy with sarcasm. Chan bit his bottom lip and nodded, "Ahm, very amazing," he replied, having the same tone of sarcasm.

You sighed and smiled, "Bestie between the both of us. You're the one who needs to get bitches," you said, faux sobbing. Chan blinked, "Wha- Why?" he asked, his face in disbelief. You faux a frown, "Because if you're writing imaginary sexual songs. Then you're basically me just song edition. One of us gotta not be a virgin in this friendship," you said, wiping your faux tears. Chan scoffed, his eyes wavering, "Of course. The stuff I write is definitely about someone, not creative freedom at all," he said, nervously laughing.

You gave him a deadpan look, "You're a terrible liar," you said, cupping his cheeks. Chan frowned and looked up from his seat, "You're one to say," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You pulled away, "So, you really want someone to ride you, huh?" you asked, crossing your arms. Chan gulped, "Writing about riding is easier in terms of metaphors!" he exclaimed, shaking his fist. You scoffed, "Sure, if it were one song. I'm pretty sure you made like three," you said, squinting at him.

Chan pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, "Fine! You fucking cunt, yes! Maybe I fantasize about myself getting rode . It makes a good song and it spurs the fans on. Are you happy now?" he huffed, cheeks flushed with blush. You nodded, "Pleased. When's the last time you got some anyway?" you asked, setting your stuff aside. Clearly, this was more important than assignments. Chan nibbled his lip, "Months ago? I don't remember, I woke up the next day alone with no note," he sighed, brushing his hair back.

You licked your lips, "What if I rode you? Would you allow that?" you asked, shuddering at his icy look. Chan tilted his head back, "You're tempting a dangerous game, little one," he said, his voice husky and low. You gulped, "I didn't know you have this side," you said, feeling intimidated. Chan chuckled, "Well, you were always my bratty little dongsaeng. There wasn't a need to overpower you," he said, standing up to pet your head. Your breath turned shallow and heavy, "Chris," you whispered, not knowing how to proceed. Chan noticed your dilemma, "Say please if you want me to take care of you, baby. Say no if you want me to stop. It's up to you, little one. I'm only here to provide," he reassured, stroking your hair. His fingers lightly brush against your cheek. You shuddered, looking up, "Please. Please take care of me," you said, your voice breathy and needy. Chan smirked, holding your chin, "Of course, anything for you, baby," he said, booping your nose.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"You're too big in this position," you whined, trying to ease yourself down his cock but it kept slipping between your dripping folds. Chan chuckled, "Baby, I already fingered your cunt open with four fingers, I'm pretty sure you're letting it slip away on purpose," he teases, lightly tapping his cockhead on your clit. You're mewling at the stimulation, "Help me? It's scary on my own," you sniffled, arching for his cock to fill up your ribbed walls after the long dragging foreplay his fingers teased to loosen your tight cunt. Chan hummed, aligning his leaking cockhead with your slightly gaping hole, "Deep breaths, little girl," he growled, hearing the audible crude pop of your cunt accepting his girthy tip.

You whimpered against his chest, slowly easing yourself lower and lower down his hot veiny shaft. Chan kissed your hair, "That's it. You're so close, baby. Another half more," he said, rubbing your waist. You lifted your head, "This is only half?" you whined, feeling so full. Chan cooed, gripping your hips, "Let me help," he chuckled, bucking his hips upwards. "Hah, ah, hah," you moaned, arching your chest towards him. Chan hissed, rolling his hips, "There we go. Down to the hilt," he groaned, stroking your thighs as searing hot walls engulfed his throbbing hard cock.

You hiccuped, your walls fluttering around his curved length, "Hah, fuck, fuck, fuck. It feels so good," you mewled, feeling the obvious tummy bulge when you leaned back. Chan growled at the sight, “Ah, shit. You took me so well, babygirl. Look at that bulge, so perfect for me," he rambled, his hair matting to his forehead as hot breaths escaped his lips. You lifted your hips, and gripped his shoulders, "Oh, yes. Hah, hah, ah," you whimpered, feeling his cockhead messaged against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Chan growled, watching your thigh trembled each time to fucked yourself down his cock.

Your bounce's were deep and through, his cockhead kissed your cervix every time you rode. Chan huffed, gripping your hips firmer, "I'm sorry, little one. I know it feels good but fuck are you slow," he groaned, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounces. You cried out at the sudden thrust, tears dripping down your cheek, "Chris, chris, hah, fuck!" You cried, burrowing your face into his chest as he fucked up into your needy cunt at a relentless pace. Chan nosed your neck, he licked and kissed your skin, "That feels way better, yeah? My big fucking cock pounding your tiny little cunt," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster.

"Hhgh, hah, more please, ah," you moaned, your eyes rolling back at the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Chan chuckled, kissing your forehead, "Cum for me, little girl. I can feel your needy cunt milk my cock. Your walls are fluttering so fucking much," he said, his voice husky and low. "There, there, fuck!" You cried, dragging your nails down his chest as your orgasm broke. Chan hissed at your scratches, your walls squeezing around his girthy cock, "Good girl," he praised, thrusting through your orgasm. You sniffled, whimpering when he continued, "Too much, Chris," you whined, feeling his rough fingers rub your clit in tandem.

Chan groaned against your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, "Shit, shit, hah. I'm cumming," he groaned, thrusting deeply one last time before pumping deep within your walls. Another climax broke from you, your ears buzzed from the pleasure. Chan rubbed your back, stroking your cheek, "I'm never letting you go now, little one. The moment you said please means you agreed to the casualties," he whispered, nuzzling your hair. You sniffled, burrowing yourself into his chest. Chan chuckled, "You're alright, baby. It's safe. It's just you and me," he hummed, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of your dripping cunt

AMAB

"You're too big in this position," you whined, trying to ease yourself down his cock but it kept slipping between your dripping ass. Chan chuckled, "Baby, I already fingered your hole open with four fingers, I'm pretty sure you're letting it slip away on purpose," he teases, lightly tapping his cockhead on your rim. You're mewling at the stimulation, "Help me? It's scary on my own," you sniffled, arching for his cock to fill up your ribbed walls after the long dragging foreplay his fingers teased to loosen your tight hole. Chan hummed, aligning his leaking cockhead with your slightly gaping hole, "Deep breaths, little boy," he growled, hearing the audible crude pop of your hole accepting his girthy tip.

You hiccuped, your walls fluttering around his curved length, "Hah, fuck, fuck, fuck. It feels so good," you mewled, feeling the obvious tummy bulge when you leaned back. Chan growled at the sight, “Ah, shit. You took me so well, babyboy. Look at that bulge, so perfect for me," he rambled, his hair matting to his forehead as hot breaths escaped his lips. You lifted your hips, and gripped his shoulders, "Oh, yes. Hah, hah, ah," you whimpered, feeling his cockhead messaged against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Chan growled, watching your thigh trembled each time to fucked yourself down his cock.

Your bounce's were deep and through, his cockhead kissed your prostate every time you rode. Chan huffed, gripping your hips firmer, "I'm sorry, little one. I know it feels good but fuck are you slow," he groaned, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounces. You cried out at the sudden thrust, tears dripping down your cheek, "Chris, chris, hah, fuck!" You cried, burrowing your face into his chest as he fucked up into your needy hole at a relentless pace. Chan nosed your neck, he licked and kissed your skin, "That feels way better, yeah? My big fucking cock pounding your tiny little hole," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster.

"Hhgh, hah, more please, ah," you moaned, your eyes rolling back at the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Chan chuckled, kissing your forehead, "Cum for me, little boy. I can feel your needy hole milk my cock. Your walls are fluttering so fucking much," he said, his voice husky and low. "There, there, fuck!" You cried, dragging your nails down his chest as your orgasm broke. Chan hissed at your scratches, your walls squeezing around his girthy cock, "Good boy," he praised, thrusting through your orgasm. You sniffled, whimpering when he continued, "Too much, Chris," you whined, feeling his rough fingers stroke your cock in tandem.

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theabigailthorn · 1 month ago

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Do you think you’ll ever write a book, either philosophy related or maybe memoirs? I really love your content and your ideas and would love to know more about how you organize your worldview.

FUNNILY ENOUGH

I've been seriously considering writing a book about the way the NHS treats trans people, and more broadly about institutional pathologisation in the current global moment we're having. I've had meetings with some big publishers, even drafted an introduction and proposal, and gotten offers back!

BUT

I don't think I'm going to do it, for a few reasons. In no particular order:

Writing a book about that subject might raise the consciousness of a few folks, but does it help build material power for trans people against my country's healthcare system, and the other systems that subjectify trans people globally? Not really, no. In fact it would legitimise the elite media consensus that engaging with elite media is the path to achieving change. Books aren't just books, they're "media events," and accordingly they increase the power and prestige of the media they happen in. If I wrote this book, newspapers would review it, chart it, I'd be invited onto Radio 4 and shit to "debate" and "discuss" it... Does doing that actually help get medicine into trans people's hands? Not really! Writing books and "getting ideas out there" is pretty busted as a theory of change unless it builds power. The fantasy of writing a really good speech or article or book and suddenly the scales fall from cis people's eyes is just that - a fantasy. No minority group has ever gotten change or justice that way. All that would happen is I'd "enhance my brand" - which means that I, with my private education and privilege and opportunities, would make money and get clout whilst contributing to the elite capture of trans rights as a political struggle. I'd become "a leader in the community" and get invited to some dinners and media events and blah blah blah - meanwhile the violence continues. That media event would also enhance the brands of those cis-dominated media outlets and the "having conversations" industrial complex, who are part of the fucking problem! The struggle should be led by the poorest and most vulnerable among us and link up with other material struggles like resisting immigration raids, prison abolition, decriminalisation of drugs and sex work, etc. So I could likely do more good for my community by donating my time and money to good causes and also by some uhhhh... other stuff - let's call it 'direct assistance' - which I already do and find fulfilling.

The offers aren't that big! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Writing that book might do harm if it's co-opted into ongoing right wing attempts to dismantle the NHS and all trans care. It'd be intellectually satisfying but not creatively satisfying or fun. I'd have to immerse myself in a very bleak world for a long time: I would enjoy having done it but not the doing.

It'd ruin my career. Right now I actually fly pretty under the radar of a lot of my country's nastiest transphobes. That would end if I wrote a book about the NHS. Newspapers, editors, publishers, journalists, and probably some MPs and Lords would become very invested in tearing me down. I've seen it happen to queer writers and journalists before. Remember, Britain is a small country and our media is run out of one city by a very small group of people who all know each other and who also know all our politicians, in some cases because they're literally the same people! That book would be like kicking a hornets' nest. Maybe they'd come after me publicly, or maybe it would be more British: somebody would make a quiet phone call and I'd suddenly be radioactive. Bye-bye acting career, bye-bye any public career.

For related reasons, writing that book and doing the necessary media campaign would expose me to a WORLD of harassment and shit from some of the worst people in the universe, which I frankly don't want. That might include lawsuits.

My dream job is to play [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. Writing a book wouldn't take me closer to that. It would cement my brand as 'trans educational writer' instead of 'actress and writer,' which is what I am.

So yeah, all in all, I don't think I'm going to do it. Not right now anyway. I reserve the right to change my mind. Think I'll write a screenplay instead!

#books #rant #philosophy tube #normal life by dean spade #elite capture by Olúfẹ́mi Táíwò

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bettsfic · 8 months ago

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Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.

story time:

so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.

and we all became very good friends!

and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."

and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."

i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.

jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.

actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.

when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.

so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.

even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.

so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.

#writing advice #feelings #jealousy

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bunji-enthusiast · 9 months ago

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I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!!! 💕💕

No joke, I love reading your stuff! It always has me kicking and giggling :}

I hope you're not stressing yourself out with the writing tho!! I know you prod want it perfect or close enough to it, but please remember it always doesn't have to be 💕

I love dogday as much as the next person but- huggy was my first and even tho you barely even write him I still end up loving him so much when you do lol. I really liked your jealousy one! I was hoping you could do one with huggy?? With an employee reader pls. So sorry if that's every little information, not rlly the best at requesting still.

Tysm!! 💕💕

{So sorry if I send this when request r closed}

Jealous, Jealous Toy

Note || AHHH your so sweet, absolutely I’ll try to write Huggy for this :)

WC || 642

Sypnosis || What happens when a jealous toy gets possessive of an employee?

Order was an important piece to your life, you liked to be orderly and keep things to an absolute T. Even if it had meant fraternizing with your superiors, though you weren’t much of a sociable person really. Being more so closed off and introverted, you simply had opted to be straightforward and cold when necessary, never to employees younger then you or even lower then your position at Playtime Co.

Many had viewed you as odd when you began talking to the life-sized huggy, made real and ready to always interact with children. Benign enough to be harmless one would guess, just nobody would ever truly understand the level of ferocity one would possess if you were there. If anyone in the room had seen the same thing you did when that very event had happened, nothing was estranged enough to be sure – yet you still couldn’t explain it to this day.

Huggy Wuggy was interesting, strange but very cuddly to hug (as he was made to do). You always had thought he was neat, clean and cool to a point.

“Hey Huggy! How are you?” Yet ever as always, the Huggy Wuggy statue had remained cold and conclusive, never moving unless it was in strange specific circumstances. “Right.” You never expected him to move anyway, another voice had snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hey brat.” Your superior, though he was one of the many, he was like an older brother to you. You thought he was lazy for lack of a better word, but his work ethics and accountability of words from other employees had proved that otherwise. You let out a large breath, stifling a feigned huff. “Yo, what’s your deal Daniel?” You asked him.

He nodded his head at your weaponized words, then walked up to you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Just needing you to fill out some paperwork, ain’t nothing major then I’ll–” A choked noise escaped his throat, causing you to look up from where you stood, eyeing him wearily as you began to get concerned as to why he looked so pale.

“Daniel.. You alright man?” His hand on your shoulder fell off from where it had laid so gently, Daniel’s other hand raised to the spot he seemed to be in such a ghostly panic about. You too had been shocked, seeing Huggy’s row of teeth hanging over Daniel’s head, you didn’t know what to do. Huggy never had behaved in such a way, leaving you to raise a brow – lips pursed as you maintained calm in the inconceivable silence.

“Huggy..” You began, raising your hands as a gesture toward Daniel to back away slowly. “Chill out, that’s just my friend.” Daniel had obeyed you, inching away from Huggy who clearly seemed to be pissed off. Conveying a means of anger as his hands were outstretched toward Daniel ever so slightly, Daniel nodded once more and slowly he had done so, trying to get him to cool off at the same time as you were.

“Can you get him to stop.. This?” Daniel whisper-shouted, you shrugged. Then you looked up at Huggy, maintaining a sense of eye contact with his own eyes. It struck a sudden chill throughout your spine, causing you to flinch as you had noticed his murderous intent, now it was slowly dissipating the further away Daniel had gone. “I think he doesn’t like you very much, I’ll come later for those papers all right?” To which he had nodded with an exasperated sigh.

Finally once he was out of sight, Huggy seemed to be less tense now – teeth relaxed and resuming his original position. You sigh, crossing your arms as you try to coerce your own mind about the events that had happened just mere seconds ago.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you my friend.”

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime huggy #huggy wuggy #huggy wuggy x reader

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spenceragnewfics · 4 months ago

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HEY EFFIEEE!!!

I just want to start off by saying that I literally love all of your fics so much they are all so well written!! 😍😍

I was wondering if you would be willing to write a Spencer fic where the reader is new to working at smosh and they become fast friends and end up dating and everything?????

So sorry this took so long! Hope it's worth it!

LUCKY | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

Summary: Y/N, a new employee at Smosh, begins her journey surrounded by welcoming faces. As she settles into her role, she forms a close friendship with Spencer, the director of the gaming channel. Despite frequent speculation from colleagues like Erin about their relationship, Y/N and Spencer insist they're just friends. However, as they collaborate closely and share personal moments, their bond deepens.

Word Count: 1.2k

“And this will be your desk. I’m so excited for you to start here, is there any questions? Did I go too fast on the tour?” Selina asks, her face shining with a friendly smile while looking at the new girl. “No, no, you did amazing. I don’t have any questions currently but I’m sure there will be later.” She says, a curious glint in her eye as she looks around.

“Okay, well, I am very excited to see how well you get along here. Remember, my office isn’t very far away.” Selina reminds her before walking off back to her office. The new girl at Smosh looks around in awe at the office around her, the pod she will be working in is currently empty so she has a moment to just soak everything in.

Sitting at the empty desk, she starts to pull some stuff out of her bag and arrange how she wants it all to look. Her moment of solitude is broken when she hears feet quickly approaching, “Courtney, do you happen to have-” A male voice says but stops when he notices that the blonde isn’t around.

She turns to look over her shoulder and feel her heartbeat pick up, “Oh, hi, um I’m not Courtney…and I don’t think I could help you…but hi.” She says awkwardly, smiling at him. “Uh…yeah, no, don’t worry about it. I’m Spencer. You must be the new girl.” He puts his hand out for her to shake. Their hands intertwine and it feels like a warm hug, “Yeah, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Spencer” Her hand moves up and down, shaking his before she pulls it away.

“Well, I don’t know how much you know about this place, but I’m the director of the gaming channel, so we might be working together sometime.” He says, of course she knew who he was but she didn’t wanna make him feel like he was bragging. She nodded with a small smile, “Yeah, that sounds super cool,”

Their conversation gets cut off when a female voice breaks through, “Ugh! Spencer! You met the new girl before we did!” A girl with short black hair whines, “Erin, I was just looking for Coutrney, who is right behind you, when I ran into her.” He crosses his arms as the shorter woman sighs, “Whatever, Spence.” She brushes past him and stands in front of Y/N.

“Hi, I’m Erin.” That was the start of her career at Smosh. It didn’t take long for Y/N to meet everyone at Smosh and was soon pulled into the whirlwind of being a reliable member of the team.

This was also the start of her friendship with Spencer. The two worked closely together a lot and spent a lot of hours brainstorming ways to make the gaming channel better. There were several late nights between the two of them with creative meetings and a lot of trips to different conferences that they were sent on.

The two had become very close friends, so close that many people at Smosh thought they were dating. They’d been called to HR a couple of times to sign some paperwork that was standard if co-workers dated but they always denied it, they were only friends.

“Erin, how many times do I have to tell you, Spencer and I are just friends!” Y/N stresses, not taking her eyes of her computer as the girl continues to annoy her. “You can’t keep lying to yourself! You two are meant to be and are just too scared to admit it.” Erin says, fully allowing herself to be the captain of the ship that is Y/N and Spencer.

She shouldn’t be surprised, Erin is a major One Direction fangirl and one of the main things of that is being a hardcore shipper of certain things, so really she should just be used to it at this point. “You can say that all you want, Erin. The fact is that Spencer has not told me he wants to be more than friends. If he ever tells me that, then we will cross that bridge when we get to it.” She explains, her E/C eyes moving off her screen for a second.

“So, you do have feelings for him!” Erin cheers, making the woman across from her roll her eyes. “I am not entertaining this any longer.” She says before getting out of her seat, “You will admit them one day!” Erin yells as she continues to walk away.

Entering the kitchen, she laughs to herself at Erin’s theories. The girl was always thinking of something to keep everyone on their toes, but it’s one of the reasons she’s Y/N’s best friend.

Grabbing a juice from the fridge, she walks over to look at the snacks when someone else walks in. “You’re idea for this week’s games shoot is awesome! I don’t know how I didn’t think it of it before.” Spencer says, walking over to Y/N. She smiles at him as she grabs a bag of pretzels, “Eh, I just scoured the comments the other night and saw a small pattern. It’s not something I would’ve suggested if I didn’t see the fans asking for it.”

He nods and grabs a Kickstart from the fridge before moving to stand next to her. “I heard people talking about Erin having some thoughts with you just a bit ago.” He says, vaguely bringing up what happened and it makes her sigh.

“You know how Erin is, she’s always up to something.” The two laugh before sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment. “What was she going on about this time? I thought we helped her figure out whatever was on her mind last time.” Spencer asks and Y/N feels her cheeks heat up.

“She, um, she was going on about how we secretly have feelings for each other and just need to let it all out.” She looks over at him confused when his breath hitches in his throat. “Everything okay, Spence?” She asks, her eyes becoming soft as she looks at him.

“Yeah, just shocked that Erin would think that.” His voice is shaky as he says it, “You’re lying, Spen. Come on, tell me what’s up.” She gently grabs his arm and he looks at her. “Maybe…maybe Erin’s right. I should just tell you how I feel.”

He walks to be in front of her as she looks at him with a raised brow, “I like you, Y/N. I have since basically the day I met you. You’re sweet, kind, super hardworking, and weirdly smart. You always make me laugh and I don’t think I’ve been able to be myself as much as I have with you.” He says, his hands on her arms.

“Are you serious?” She asks, shocked that he’s saying all this. “Yes, I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I just wanted to-” He stops talking as she puts her lips against his. His hands are still on her arms before he moves them to her waist. “I like you too, I like you a lot, Spence.” She says when she pulls away.

Their eyes are locked as they rest their forehead against each other. “So, do you wanna go out tonight?” He asks, “I’d love to.” She answers before they kiss again. It doesn’t last long as someone walks in and they pull away.

“I knew it!” Erin yells, cheering before running out of the kitchen and screaming “Y/N and Spencer are kissing!” throughout the office.

#smosh #smosh cast #smosh games #smosh mouth #spencer agnew #smosh pit #spencer agnew x reader #smosh imagine #smosh x reader #fanfiction #fluff #spencer agnew fluff #romance #imagine #request

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chrolloluvr · 6 months ago

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Hi, happy to see you back❤. I remember in one of your previous works, you mentioned Mammon possibly would babytrap reader. May you please write something on this topic?

♡ Toxic!Mammon: Babytrapping Hcs ♡

Note: Ty! Also she is referring to this post. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS!!! KEEP THEM COMING POOKIES! ALSO IK I HAVENT MADE AN ACTUAL POST IN A WHILE SO HERE YALL GO

Female!reader, AFAB

Warnings: NSFW, toxic themes, creampie, future child, exploiting

He will babytrap you, 100%

As I have said before, Mammon likes the idea of having complete control over you, your life, and everything you do. And what better of a way to do that than making you bear his child?

He gets this magical, invasive idea when talking to one of his work buddies. He was talking about how annoying you were, even though he cannot live without you, when his co-worker mentions how much responsibility and care a woman has for her children. And the idea hits him. If you are just going to sit around lazily all day like a spoiled brat, why not add a child into the mix?

So he will have you prowled up against his chest, his cock basically stuffing you full, as he pistons in and out of your already sore pussy. Seemingly out of nowhere, telling you

"You'd be such a good mother, wouldn't you babe."

"'Wanna see you swoll with my kids, wouldn't that be somethin'-"

Which makes you feel physically ill. Raising a child with Mamm would be basically impossible. You would never raise a child with this man. Would he support you? Would he genuinley care for your baby? Oh Satan, would he even care-

Your thoughts are abrupted as Mammon stuffs you with his seed, finishing inside yours walls and painting them with a loud groan. He gives your ass a harsh slap, as he watches his cum spilling out of you. He looks you in the eyes, and gives you a daunty chuckle. He forces you to look up at him with your tired, exhausted eyes, as he tells you ohoho babe, we aren't finished until i'm done, alright?.

And he keeps that promise, with the goal of getting you pregnant. He knows the public would go feral. The King of Greed? With a child? It gives him a publicity boost, which in turn, is good for his business, and his image.

Once you find out you are pregnant, you have to eventually tell Mammon, to your dismay. Every day, he makes you take an on brand pregnancy test as he watches. He will hold the test while you pee. Yes you heard me right. So when the test says positive one day, he is over the moon. Not at the fact that he is going to be a father, but at the fact that he is now in complete control over you, and that he can use another part of you as a pawn in his twisted fantasy.

The paparazzi have a field day over this news, because he ends up almost immediately making an announcement. There are headlines, candid photos of you going forcefully outside by mammon, etc. Its like a never ending nightmare. And dont be mistaken, he would never let you out of his sights, or get an abortion. He thinks this is too good of an opportunity.

Behind closed doors, he will actually treat you very well. Feeding you, paying attention to your every need, and not letting you lift a finger. He may even go out of his way to find some stuff by himself at the store. He'll will make you go outside with him. But at times he has to do a meeting, or host an event, he will have his goons escort you places, making sure you go public routes, to get a really good look at your swollen belly.

Brings you to meetings during this time, and picking your outfits carefully. He cant have his darling wearing any disgusting maternity clothes. So he will have you perches on his lap while he sits in his seat, embarrassment eating you whole as you see the sins/overlords snickering and bickering presumably at you. He has one hand rubbing your round belly, and one hand rubbing your shoulders as Mammon discusses his newest buisness plan.

He would create a Mammon Baby Care line. He knows he will profit off your pregnancy

"Alright fellas, so i was thinking for the ladys, a Mammon breast pump, hm? Its great right? Oh! And Mammon themed bibs, ha! Sure to make me a bunch, right babes?"

People think, how could you let Mammon knock you up? Of course, millions of girls idolize Mammon, and would want to be with him. But sometimes it feels like you are the only one who is infatuated with him. So you will try to look past the fact that he got you pregnant. You'll just try to be hopeful. But it is literally impossible with the way he keeps sweet talking you, as you snap back into the sad reality that you will be having Mammons child, and raising it. No questions to be asked.

He will lead you to subconsciously feel insecure about you and your body. He will squeeze your newly chubby cheeks, glaze his fingers over your stretch marks newly littering your body, etc. And he definitely does that on purpose.

As you reach up to the half full Nutella jar in the high cabinet in the kitchen, you hear a pair of loud footsteps coming behind you. Its Mammon. You try your best to ignore him, but you cant help but feel uneasy when you feel a pair of familiar eyes on you. It is currently 1:30 AM, and he is in a really tired mood.

"You need help sweets?"

He said with a suckle voice, knowing its affects on you are vast. He looks you up and down, admiring your perfect body in his mind. Your curves, belly, and the look your giving him. It makes him want to just bend you over and fuck your brains out likes theres no tomorrow. But he cant, he just has to be extra agile with you.

"Mamm..."

"Yeah?"

"Do I look fat?"

Ohhh boy. The question you always ask when you feel like he's eyeing you up. he hates when you ask that, because then he has to make up some half assed excuse to why he's looking at you a certain way. When your pregnant, he basically has to walk on eggshells around you.

"You... look like your carrying my child, and I like the sight of that."

"Okay, do you love me?"

He pauses. One wrong answer, and you'll refuse to talk to him for weeks. You two, as of your relationship, are in a really good spot right now. You will basically do anything for him. But you are really sensitive emotionally and physically, due to your hormones.

As he walks up behind you, he lifts you up by your waist, and hold you up to the cabinet, letting you reach.

"Y/N."

He says in a low, gruff voice.

"Yeah Mamm?"

"What the hell kind of question is that. Of course I love you."

He says as you look at him, face to face. You watch his eyes never leave yours, which makes you break off eye contact in a flustered state. You then realize that he is holding you, which makes you feel insecure.

"Okay, I love you too Mamm"

"Alright, now get your sweet treat, and get the fuck to bed, and hurry up. We've got a busy day tomorrow sweets."

He sets you down, and leaves the kitchen, leaving you with yourself, your Nutella and a spoon in hand. You look down at yourself, and your huge stomach. You wonder how you got yourself into this twisted predicament. You mostly worry about your baby's future as Mammons child. Because you are aware that Mammon will only use them for his own monetary gain. You cannot escape this man, even if you try. But you can always pretend you have your own free will, and you could always just eat your silly thoughts away, as Mammon always told you.

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cillianhead · 1 year ago

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Heeyy, love your work💜 aaand I was wondering could you write dad's Bestfriend! Cillian and how your dad keeps asking Cillian to go on a double date with him and his wife since he's been single for a while, but Cillian doesn't want to and (you're at your house) or then somehow you and him end up in the same place later and talk about it? one of you confesses they're glad he didn't go cos they had feelings for the other and then things get heated 😉😉

Sorry if it's all over the place, I have so many little ideas in my brain rn lol

Thank you☺️

Thank you so much for your request, I've literally been thinking sooooo much about the idea of Dad's BestFriend! Cillian and how I wanted to write about it, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Enjoy <3

Illicit Affairs || Dad's BestFriend! Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, age gap (Cillian is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), taboo relationship, unprotected P in V, oral sex (f receiving), a bit angsty, having to hide their relationship, jealousy, some homophobic comments I guess?? (not from Cillian), general adult content!! (Cillian isn't an actor/famous in this also he moved to America... in this!) (Also this fic is quite long... so that's a warning!)

18+ Minors DNI

Cillian Murphy was that charming Irish man who lived just down your street. He had moved there around five or six years ago, you couldn't really remember, it was when you were just seventeen. He had moved here in the hopes of getting away from his ex-wife back in Ireland and starting over. Your dad was incredibly welcoming to him when he first moved in and they quickly became good buddies. Your dad was into sports and drinking beer, cooking out on the grill, and all that classic dad stuff. Cillian enjoyed that stuff too but he was much more into the arts than your dad ever could be. You two bonded over that. Cillian taught you how to play guitar, you'd write songs together, you'd go to concerts of bands you both liked.

Now you were twenty-four, in your last year of college and Cillian was still around, you still got together and went to concerts or played the guitar together every now and then, though you were more busy now and so was he. You'd had a crush on him ever since you had laid your eyes on him but you understood why it was wrong, understood why he was off limits. You couldn't help but grow jealous though when you'd see him bring home women every now and then and then see them leaving in the morning. It wasn't an occasion that happened often but it got on your nerves regardless, you knew you had no right to feel that way. But it still made you feel sick to your stomach.

Of course, you'd had a couple of boyfriends, none of them were all that serious. You hated yourself for comparing them to him, knowing no man could ever compare to the man that Cillian is. Your dad was oblivious to your (not-so) little crush. You had to keep it that way, not that anything was ever going to happen between you but you knew your dad would be uncomfortable with the idea of you having a crush on one of his best buddies.

"Cillian's comin' over tonight, Y/N." Your dad popped his head into your room, you just nodded and smiled before he left. You still lived at home since you studied not too far from home, your parents were more than happy to let you live there for as long as you needed but you had plans of moving out soon, as soon as you graduated.

"Thanks, Dad... I already know that." You chuckled. Your mom was downstairs cooking dinner and you had also received text messages from the man himself, earlier that day informing you he was coming over, so you were very much aware that he was coming over.

Cillian: Can't wait to see you. It's been a while, kid. xxx

You'd read the message over and over and over again. Your heart fluttered each time you did so. You hated how he called you 'kid', you were a grown woman, you weren't a kid anymore. You really hated it because you knew you didn't hate it. In fact, the nickname made you all shy and giggly, it made you like him even more.

It was around six when your mom called out for you that dinner was ready. You had tried your best to look nice, for whatever reason that may be. It wasn't anything too crazy or too dressy but it was definitely nicer than how you'd normally dress when you had guests over. A small black skirt that was a bit risky with how short it was but you could definitely get away with wearing it and a tight long-sleeved black shirt, tucked into it. You could hear chattering from the dining room, the sound of Cillian's chortling made you smile as you entered the room to find yourself meeting the back of the head of an unfamiliar blonde woman, sitting next to Cillian, and making him laugh. Your smile had dropped.

"Oh, sweetie!" Your mom waved you over to the table, the food had been served, both parents sitting on either end of the table while you had to sit and face Cillian and this strange blonde lady. Was this his girlfriend? You knew it had been around a month or so since you'd last seen him but surely he hadn't gotten a girlfriend in such a short amount of time. "This is Cassandra... we've been friends since college, I thought it would be nice to introduce her to Cillian... I've always said how I thought they'd get along."

You just nodded politely, looking Cillian in the eyes to see the discomfort staring back at you. Cassandra was beaming, as any woman should be if she sat beside Cillian, you just glared as you prepared your plate of food. You remained civil, of course, nodding along to things being said and laughing extra hard at jokes your dad tried to make. But you couldn't get rid of the big fat elephant in the room, Cassandra. She was pretty enough, with long blonde hair (obviously bleached, you thought), and makeup done elegantly but it was a bit much. Lip fillers to the max and smooth botox-filled skin. But the thing was... her perfume was obnoxiously loud for a smell. It filled the room like someone had bombed the place with perfume-scented grenades and it absolutely ruined the food. You don't know how Cillian could just sit there, breathing in her perfume without vomiting all over the place. You were sitting across the table and it was horrible, practically on the verge of a migraine, how bad must it be having to sit right next to her?

You scolded yourself silently for trying to put down this woman in your head. She hadn't done anything wrong except breathe near Cillian. It wasn't her fault you had some sort of weird jealousy issues when it came to him.

"...What... what do you do for work, Cassandra?" Cillian asked politely before taking a bite from his fork, looking at Cassandra with genuine interest. That made your gut churn.

"Oh... well I actually work for the Catholic church just around the corner," Cassandra smiled. "I actually go around... um... telling people about Catholicism and its benefits, trying to get them to join." You took a sip of your wine with a cheeky grin on your face as you saw Cillian's discomfort with her response. You knew fully well he had no issue with people practicing religion but you knew how he felt for people to go around and shove their beliefs down people's throats. With the slightest bit of alcohol running through your veins, you found some courage to feign interest in her line of 'work'.

"That's really interesting, Cassie," You hummed delightfully, your parents looked over at you cautiously. You knew you had crossed a line by calling her 'Cassie'. "What are your thoughts on gay people?" The room went silent. The drop of a pin could be heard.

Her face went beet red at this question. Your mom gave you a disappointed look before faking a smile. Cillian looked amused before turning to Cassandra, everyone waiting for her response.

"I... erm...." She was looking around the room. Now maybe you had guessed wrong, maybe she was totally fine with gay people but you had a feeling her answer was going to be the complete opposite of that. "I think... if someone wishes... to live that lifestyle... then they should... keep it to themselves..." You cringed at that response. "I think God... I think God would not approve of... that sort of lifestyle." Bazinga. Cillian was immediately put off.

"I didn't realize you spoke for God himself." Cillian chuckled as he looked down into his glass of wine with that mischievous smile that mirrored your own. The two of you giggled at each other, Cillian seemed sort of relieved in a way that he didn't have to deal with this bozo of a woman anymore and your jealousy had disappeared along with the food on your plate.

Eventually, Cassandra left hurriedly. Your mom scolded you for being rude but you just shrugged it off. Cillian stuck around to hang out with your dad as you and your mom cleaned the dishes, you could hear them chattering on the back porch, probably about the latest baseball game or your dad trying to convince Cillian to come over one day for a barbecue.

"Go bring these to your father and Cillian, sweetie." Your mom hands a pack of beer which you take carefully as you nod.

Walking out to the back veranda, Cillian sat with a cigarette in between his lips. How could someone be so pretty? You sat the beers down on the small coffee table before turning back around to keep helping your mom but were quickly stopped by Cillian's hands curling around your wrist. Electric jolts ran through you with his touch. "Why don't you join us, kid?" Cillian hummed.

"Alright." You politely sat down beside him, he sat in between you and your father. It was a lovely summer's night, the crickets chirped and the sun was only just setting at almost nine at night. It was quiet and peaceful and warm. Cillian's presence especially helped provide that atmosphere.

You tucked your legs up into your chest, you and Cillian occasionally sharing glances at each other while your dad and he continued to talk about subjects that didn't capture your interest. Every time he looked at you, you felt like you could explode, his eyes so captivating and simply electrifying. "Here, love." Cillian passed the cigarette over to you, and you took a small drag. Your dad gave you a disapproving look but shook it off as you passed it back, letting out the bellowing smoke from the chambers of your lungs and mouth.

"Weird seein' my little girl smoking a cigarette," Your father grumbled, cracking open a cold one and handing it over to Cillian. "S'not right, you've grown up too fast." While he opened himself a beer, Cillian laid his eyes on you, sucking in the thick smoke of his fag.

You just rolled your eyes at your father's comment. "If it makes you feel better... the only time I have ever smoked a cigarette is when I've been around Cillian." You giggled, looking over at Cillian to see him tilting his head at you, playfully nudging you.

"Hey," He whispered. "Don't dob me in, kid!" His voice was low and husky, you felt yourself squeeze a little at the tremor his tone caused.

Grasping your lip in between your bottom lip you just shook your head as you leaned your head against the wall of the house, staring out at the sunset. You sat out there for a little while, sharing puffs of the cigarette with Cillian until your dad got up, grumbling somethin' about how he was going to help your mother. Leaving you and Cillian alone together. Alone.

"Your parents are pretty eager to hook me up with someone," Cillian said, breaking the silence between you.

"Yeah?" You sucked in a breath.

"Yeah," He took a sip of his beer, setting it down on the table before stretching an arm back and laying it behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. You were flustered, being so close to him, in this sort of dim lighting. "Apparently, I'm goin' out this Saturday to go on a double date wit' your folks... and some woman named Naomi."

You bit back a scowl. "Oh... that's nice..." You lied through your teeth, Cillian just let out an amused huff. It gave off the impression he was irritated with something but you couldn't quite pick up on why he would be annoyed. He wanted you to stand up and tell him to stay, to tell him to be with you instead, he wanted you to be angry, he thought.

You knew who Naomi was. She worked with your dad, you had met her a few times. She was incredibly bright, charming, and nonetheless beautiful, ageing gracefully. Cillian and her were going to get along quite well, in fact, you felt yourself grow sad over the fact they would probably flourish as a couple. You and Cillian sat in silence for a little while longer, you didn't know what else to say. You felt ashamed that this wasn't just a crush you had, you harbored genuine and strong feelings for him that you knew he could never reciprocate. It was wrong. But how could you not want to be with him? He was the best man you'd ever met. Cillian was kind, he understood your silence, and he made you laugh until your ribs hurt. He comforted you like no other, without even trying and god... he was magnetic, the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

"She's not the woman I'm interested in though," Cillian groused, his fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, his thumb occasionally brushing over the bare skin on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him with a frown. His face perfectly aligned with yours, hot breath on your face, his pale blue eyes lit up by the rising moon. You could kiss him at that moment... but you wouldn't. You shouldn't. "Y/N..." He took in a deep breath, and your heart raced, it seemed like he was about to confess something. "I..."

"Come on! Let me walk ya home!" Your dad stepped out, and you immediately hopped up and out of the seat, not wanting your dad to see the close proximity you and Cillian were in, not that anything was happening between you two. Not that your dad would see anything you were feeling at that moment. "Sorry was I interrupting something?" Your dad murmured obliviously, disappointment painting both of your faces.

"No... no... I'd better be goin'," Cillian stood up, brushing himself off before pulling you into a tight hug. "See ya round, kid." He whispered into your hair before letting go of you, he gave you a longing stare before turning away.

"Bye, Cillian..."

Your heart sank as you watched him go. Curiosity that ate away at you bubbled in your stomach. What was he going to tell you? Surely... it's not what you were thinking? Sitting in your room that night, you struggled to think about anything else. You hated the idea of Cillian meeting this Naomi woman and falling in love with her. You hated that you felt like you had some sort of possession over him, he wasn't yours and he never would be.

Stormy Saturday rolled around and you had no plans, you just watched your parents get ready for this double date of theirs as you wallowed in self-pity and the sky opened up, just as moody as you were. They pestered you on why you were so grumpy, you just shrugged them off, blaming it on hormones. With every step they took towards the door, your heart broke more and more. You wished them goodbye before sitting on the couch with a tub of ice cream to soothe away the pain. An hour went by and you figured the date had started by now, Naomi and Cillian were probably planning their marriage straight away and you would have to watch him give himself away, you would have to sit in the church pews and resist from standing up and screaming when the minister asks if anyone has any objections. You imagined yourself watching their first dance, watching Cillian stand up and tell the world how she's the most amazing woman he's ever known and that he loves her. You imagined having to congratulate him, you imagined growing old and alone, still just as in love with him as you are now. You groaned at your silly thoughts.

"Get over yourself." You said through gritted teeth, talking to yourself as you bit back tears.

You had some stupid rom-com on, only further reminding you of how painfully alone you were and how desperately you wished to be the one Cillian wanted. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing beside you, quickly picked it up when you saw it was your dad calling.

"Hey dad, how's it going?" You asked with a casual hum, plopping another bit of the vanilla ice cream into your mouth.

"Have you seen Cillian? He's yet to arrive." Your dad sounded worried, he was never a worrier. "He said he was going to show up earlier but we haven't heard from him since... have you heard from him?"

"No, I haven't, is he okay... do you think?" You sat up fully now, setting the ice cream aside. It wasn't like Cillian to not respond at all for so long. If he wasn't going to show up, he'd at least let the people know. You hear a loud strike of lightning outside, shaking the room.

"I don't know, I don't know, Y/N, it's been an hour and a half, he should be here..." Your dad grumbles. You can hear the sound of your mom apologizing to someone else, no doubt Naomi was the person she was apologizing to. Sorry, your future husband hasn't arrived, you imagined her saying. "Alright, I'm gonna go, we're gonna stick around here for a little longer... call me if you hear from him."

The call ends and you're left with an uneasy feeling in your chest. What if Cillian was hurt? You tried to brush away that feeling, getting up and putting the ice cream back in the freezer and the spoon in the sink. A knock at your front door, as loud as the thunder outside made you jump about halfway across the kitchen. Who would be knocking at this time? Especially during this weather?

You rush to the door, the rain pouring out, the trees just about to be ripped out of the ground with how harsh the wind was and you open the door, scowling at the wind.

"Y/N." Cillian gasped out, he looked straight out of a movie scene. Soaking wet. He took a step in, dripping all over the place. His eyebrows furrowed together as he approached you.

"Cillian, what? What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed, shutting the door. "My parents are worried sick about you!"

"I...."

"Why aren't you at your date?" You interrupted, scolding him like a naughty child. He was shivering as he took off his sopping coat, leaving him in a white button-up shirt that was equally soaked. It didn't leave much to the imagination, with the already somewhat translucent material and the water leaking through. It stuck to every inch of his skin like cellophane, his nipples peeked through, his chest and stomach on full display. You stopped yourself from checking him out any further, growing flustered as you felt him corner you in the living room. He had a wild look in his eyes.

"Cillian?" You ask again, concerned. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his eyes locked on you. He didn't seem to really care that he was as wet as a dog.

"Y/N..."

"Cillian..." You repeated.

His eyes said everything he was thinking. Hunger, love, and deep untamed desperation. You winced a bit at the feeling of hand cupping your face. "I love you." He whispered and you gasped.

"Cillian..." You whispered back, hesitant to respond to what he just said. "Have you... have you had something to drink tonight?"

"I'm completely sober, kid," He grunted as he leaned in to kiss you, hot breath on your neck as you quickly turned your cheek to him. You pushed him away, you knew this was wrong. You took a step away from him, and Cillian gave you a look of hurt. "Y/N, baby, I need to tell you this. I have to know you feel the same way." His voice was shaking. The room shook with him, you sat down on your sofa and curled your body up into a tiny ball. "Look at me, kid, look at me." "Don't call me kid!" You yelled with tears in your eyes, finally looking him in the eyes. Cillian jumped a bit at the sudden outburst, it wasn't like you to yell.

"Y/N..." Cillian whispered, a look of hurt.

"We... we can't... I don't know... what's going on right now... but this isn't right... you're my dad's best friend..."

"And you're my best friend's daughter," He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh and the other on your chin, making you look at him. "But it doesn't.... it doesn't change these feelings... I have for you."

"Why?" You shook your head away, trying to hide the hot tears that slipped down your face. "Why would you have feelings for me? You could have anyone... and you decide me." "I didn't decide this," Cillian sighed, he leaned in and pressed his face into your warm shoulder. His cold wet hair tickles along your jawline. "But I want you... it doesn't matter... any woman could beg to have me... I'd still want you, Y/N. No one else matters... I need you." Your heart ached. It felt like Cillian had wrapped his warm hand around your poor heart and squeezed it until warm raspberry jam spilled out of his fist. You felt torn.

"Don't cry, baby..." His voice was low and every bit of you wanted to fling yourself at him, to confess your undying love, to run away to Paris with him and never come back. The way he called you baby was delectable. But you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, about the look on their faces if they saw this. "Y/N... baby..." "Stop calling me baby..." You cried, turning your face full of anguish towards him. Cillian's lip quivered, thumb swiping away your tears. "I don't... I don't get it. I just don't get it, Cillian... why... you? Why... me?"

"You are the most extraordinary person I have ever met, kid..." Cillian's petal-like lips whispered to you oh-so-gently. Your eyes locked on the way his mouth moved as he spoke. "I... I know it's wrong, I know I'm a fuckin' creep... for feeling this way for you... I'm old enough to be your goddamn father... I've known you since you were... just seventeen-"

"How long... have you... you known...?"

"Since you came home from your trip to California last year..." He replied all too quickly. "I saw you with that stupid boy... Kyle or whatever the fuck his bloody name was and all I saw was red... I didn't... I couldn't handle seeing you with him." You bit back a smile. "You're too good... for any of those college boys..." He grumbled. "A lady like you... she needs to be treated right."

You can treat me right Cillian, you thought. "I've never wanted them... the way I've wanted you..." "Fuck..." He let out quietly, biting his own lip in response. "You can't say things like that." His blue eyes were just a sliver of what they once were, pupils were blown wide as if he were high from just staring at you. "Most brilliant girl... fuck... that last gig we went to... I wanted to wrap me arm around you and kiss you silly... claim you as mine... but... I was too afraid."

"What gave you the courage?"

"I've just had enough," Cillian swiped another tear off your cheek. "Had enough of waiting... I can't wait any longer..."

"I can't wait any longer either... it's been eating away at me, the idea of you with anyone else. I just... I can't picture you with anyone else."

Cillian grinned at you, still shivering from his wet clothes. You put him out of his misery, connecting your lips. After all this time, what felt like an eternity, you kissed. The oxygen around you no longer mattered, you had each other to breathe in now. This kiss was not slow and romantic, it was violent like you were trying to consume each other, trying to see who could win in this cannibalistic fight. His hands grasped at your waist, pulling you onto his lap and wetting your clothes with his soggy ones.

"Take my shirt off..." He whispered, he didn't have to ask you twice.

You unbuttoned his shirt as best you could while it was wet before ripping it open and revealing his delicious skin. "You're so pretty, Cillian..." This moment was surreal. The man of your dreams, twenty years older than you, with crow's feet and grey hairs, and the most beautiful soul you had ever found, sitting in front of you with his body on display for you. Your soulmate. You both had known it for a long time now. Making out on your couch was unacceptable to Cillian so he picked you up and carried you upstairs with your legs wrapped around his slim waist.

He had been in your room plenty of times before but never for reasons like this. Never with the desire to rip all your clothes off and crawl inside you. Cillian closed and locked the door behind you before throwing you down onto your well-cushioned bed. You watched him slide out of his shoes and pull off the sticky shirt that draped off his shoulders. Now he was completely shirtless and was prowling towards you like a tiger to its prey. "Gonna take your clothes off of now, love, is that alright?" He asked quickly, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts. You nodded desperately, your brain lost in some sort of fog of disbelief and horniness.

"God..." You whispered as you helped him shimmy off your shorts and you pulled your shirt quickly over your head. Leaving you in nothing but some small boxer shorts. He grinned madly.

"S'pretty..." His hands slid up your waist until both hands cupped each of your tits in his hands. "Fucking hell, kid." You rolled your head back at him calling you that, groaning at how it turned you on and gasping as you felt his hot mouth latch itself onto your hard nipple.

"Cillian... oh my god!" Your fingers tugged on his hair before he pulled off of you with a pop.

His lips were quickly back on yours as he pulled down your shorts, now you were completely naked and he knelt down on his knees so his face was perfectly aligned with what was between your legs. Your pussy was already soaking wet for him, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. "You are the most beautiful thing..." He whispered, staring directly at your throbbing cunt. "And the sweetest." His mouth worked deliciously on you and as if his tongue wasn't already enough, he slipped a finger into you, fingering at your g-spot.

"Oh!" You writhed around on the sheets, thighs tightly locked around his head, wet hair sticking to your soft skin. He was truly devouring you, like a man who had been malnourished for years, he feasted on you as if you were his last meal. And when you came on his face, he moaned loudly. The orgasm crept on you and hit you out of nowhere, you couldn't hold in the noises that came out of your throat.

You were delirious as you lay there, whining as he continued to finger you. "Fuck... I could eat your pussy all night long, baby," Cillian panted, chin dripping in your juices. "But I've gotta be inside ya."

"I'm... on the pill..." You murmured out, he pulled his finger out of you, sucking it clean as he undid his slacks. He moaned lowly at your words, letting his pants and underwear fall to his ankles. Cillian carried you up until your head rested on the pillows now. It was romantic the way he was handling you, the moment was so intimate as he stroked his cock, lining it up with your wanting hole. "I've thought about this... for so long..." "Me too, baby." Cillian huffed, rolling his eyes back into his skull as he fit the head of his cock into your pussy, pushing the rest in there slowly but surely. You arched your back against him, whimpering as he pressed fully into you. "So good." Cillian groaned as he leaned down and bit down on your lip, pulling it away and watching it pop back into place before properly kissing you. You made out while he remained still inside of you, his hands on either side of your head as your tongues twisted together. The first thrust sent your body into a state of euphoria as he began picking up the pace, rocking his hips in and out of you. Your fingers ran scratches up and down his back. Your bed old and creaky, slamming against the wall as soon as he fucked you hard and fast while remaining still so painfully romantic.

"I love you," You gasped out. "I love you... Cillian!"

"I fuckin' love you so much," His head hung low, and you got the perfect view of him above you. His face flushed and his eyes fixed on your own face full of pleasure. "You're mine, all mine... and I'm yours."

"All mine..." You repeated with a moan, clenching around him, feeling your own high slowly begin to grow.

"You're takin' me so good," Cillian's praise made you throb, his grunting making you gush around him. "My good girl, my best girl."

The look of love in his eyes and in your own could be seen a thousand miles away. Your souls' grand reunion, your bodies becoming one, and your love finally coming out into the open, like a beautiful fruitful spring after a long and dark winter. "I'm close, Cillian."

"Cum around me, love, I wanna feel you come undone." "I want you to cum inside me..." "Fuck," He groaned, hips stuttering into you. "I'll give ya what you want since you asked so nicely." Your vision went white, ears ringing as your hot sweaty bodies pressed together, fitting so perfectly together. Never had anyone made you cum like this before. Your orgasm washes over you in foamy waves, like a stormy ocean hitting the shore over and over and over again. Cillian's rhythm slowed down as he rutted into you, warm cum filling you, and you felt so relieved, this was how it was always meant to be. His lips pressed sloppy kisses to your neck, moaning directly into your ear, both of you riding out your intense highs.

He stilled, letting a bit more of his seed spill into you before he hissed as he pulled out. Cillian lay beside you, wrapping an arm around you as shook softly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasm hitting you. His eyes examined you so gently, a dopey smile on his fairy-like face and his hair beginning to grow curly from how wet it was.

"Cillian..." You whispered, rolling over onto your side to look at him. "I love you." "I love you, kid." He whispered back, holding you like he had the world in his arms. To him, you were his world.

"We'll be okay, right?" "We just... have to keep this a secret... from your parents..." Cillian said, disappointment evident in his voice.

"Yeah... I know..." You pressed your face into his bare chest, loving the warmth. "Cillian... I wish you knew how strongly I felt about you."

"I feel the same way."

You shared sweet nothings with each other. Still, in disbelief, this was actually happening as you fell asleep with smiles on your faces, in each other's arms. Unfortunately in the morning, you'd have to suffer the consequences of your dad walking in on you and Cillian resting peacefully in your bed.

hi! sorry this was so long but i hope you enjoyed <3

also sorry if there are any major mistakes!

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