#40 years of classic writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cillianhead · 7 months

Note

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!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #cillian x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy fanfiction

607 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 5 months

Text

This story inspired by the classic writings of @macstevens.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

"You feeling nervous, Dad?" I asked as we walked back into our hotel room. We'd taken a walk around and had scoped out a lot of the other men we'd be seeing tomorrow.

Dad was surprisingly earnest as he thought over for a second. "I should be telling you I'm not," he replied. "I guess I get a little too caught up in the competitive thing."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't," I assured him. "Trust me, you're gonna kill it tomorrow."

I could read all the doubts in my father's head. In 2018 he'd come here and had fallen short of placing. The pandemic came, and that meant time away from the gym. More than that there was Dad's self-imposed backaway from bodybuilding. "It's just not worth it," he'd said. "The time, the dieting, making yourself into some muscle bimbo," he said.

Until it was worth it. About a year and a half ago, Dad started getting that itch again. It took even more work this time, as he was in his mid-50s now, which meant would be competing in the Master's 50+ division

Now, Dad was probably in his best form of his life. Growing up, he'd always seemed just big - tall, beefy, ex-jock kind of body. Around the time of my parents' divorce, he'd gotten into better shape. My his mid 40s, that fitness kick got channeled into serious lifting. No two ways about it, my cop dad was a beast now.

And he was pulling off his XXL t-shirt, showing me all the ripped muscle he'd been bulking and fine tuning the last year. Dad tossed the shirt aside and turned to me. "Guess it's time for you to work your magic, Drew."

"Jesus, fuck," I gasped. It wasn't from surprise, since I was well familiar with my dad's body. But it never failed to take my breath away. He was hard, vascular, and covered with a pelt of silvery hair.

Dad chuckled. "I know you like the fur, buddy."

I gulped. Something had changed the last couple of years where the salt and pepper in Dad's chest hair was getting closer to full-on silver. "Yeah, I do," I admitted. "But you gotta show off your work, Dad."

"Yeah," he said, and started taking off his shorts. "You get everything ready."

I'd learned the hard way to put down newspaper on the bathroom floor. Dad's really fucking hair. I pulled out the supplies from my backpack - clippers, shave gels, a couple of additional razor cartridges, some aloe moisturizer. I used to wax Dad down, but we both enjoyed the slower, more intimate ritual of the shaving. And this way, his hair would grow back sooner, which was a plus for us.

"I'm afraid I'm giving you a lot of work," he chuckled as he stepped into the small space of the hotel bathroom. Dad was fully naked and his cock was already firming up into a healthy-sized hardon. We'd gotten beyond the awkwardness of this process and now got turned on by it.

I realized I was fully hard in my basketball shorts and I was glad I decided to freeball it, because otherwise my erection would feel uncomfortably constrained. I stripped off my shirt and affectionately patted his back, taking some time to feel the competition-ready muscle. "Jesus, Dad... being away at college... it's incredible to see you now."

That made my father smile. But he didn't say anything more. It was time for the shavedown.

I started the clippers and sheared off big swipes of that thick fur, watching the silvery curls fall down to the floor, some catching on his hair below. I then worked the clipped on the other side, from his lower abdomen to the base of his giant pecs. His cock jerked as I did and I could see the hunger in his eyes.

I pulled back the clippers and kissed him. Tongue and all, we make out, and I felt his prick nudge against the hard ridge in my shorts. I was actually a couple inches taller than Dad, a classic basketball jock build, and times like this, I loved the similarity and yet contrast between our bodies.

Dad was thinking something similar, too, and as I pulled back he growled. "I swear each time I see ya, you're bigger, boy."

I flexed for him some and laughed. In high school, I'd been on the leaner side, and even now my muscle looked less imposing because of my height. But I'd been working a lot with the team's strength coach and my effort had paid off. I placed the clippers back on him, focusing on the round swell of his chest muscle. "I got a bodybuilding Dad I gotta keep up with," I said.

It was Dad's turn to flex, making his knotted arms almost balloon in size. "I couldn't have gotten here without you, buddy," my father said, a twinkle in his handsome brown eyes that seemed lighter in color now that his hair was graying.

"Lift your arm," I instructed. This was the one part where the hair seemed less thick as Dad got older, but his pit was still well-furred. Dad's hair just had a way of growing in fast and thick.

It was going now, as I buzzed the clipper along the growth, shearing it down to a quarter inch.

Then I did the other arm pit.

My father's back isn't that hairy but I zapped away a couple of patches, along his lower back and along his upper traps. The forearms needed touching up to.

Dad reached down and gripped my boner, massaging it through the nylon of my shorts. It felt tantalizing, but we both kept the libido in check for now. Still, I pulled back with a huge wet spot at the tip of my cock. Dad used to tease me for my lack of patience in the bedroom, but now I knew how to be a good boy.

I squatted down and trimmed the legs, front and back. Then the hard cannonball ass that had been the first thing that required Dad to size up his police uniform.

This whole process took a while, about five to ten minutes for the initial trim. Now I turned off the clippers and set them aside. I wiped down the legs with a wet washcloth and put a good amount of shaving gel in my palm. This was the laborious part, but Dad would have a fresh, close shave for competition tomorrow.

It was quiet and sexual, Dad's prick dripping that slick clear fluid as I ran the razor over the quads, revealing hard muscle more fully. His dieting and diuretics meant every vein popped on the surface of his leg. I finished and wiped him down, admiring my handiwork. I took a strange pride in this, not only my skill in shaving Dad down but also an embrace of my kink. It was like each swipe of the razor blade was an act of power, of taking away Dad's masculinity, and yet giving him an even more amazing masculine form.

I started on the other leg. We broke the spell of silence some by talking about the likely competition he'd have tomorrow. Soon, I was wiping down the smooth muscle and rinsing off the blade in the sink.

I took my time with his calved and powerful hamstrings. Dad's hardon flagged. Mine didn't. I remembered when my father's ass has a little of that meaty give to it. The first time I'd touched his bare buns, or eaten him out, of fucked him. Now it was hard steeliness in my hands as I ran the razor over it, clearing a path in the foamy gel to reveal the smooth hard skin beneath. I don't know what it was, but there was something about a 55 year old's skin that was distinctive from a younger man's, even in Dad's competition ready muscle physique. Maybe because of his muscle physique.

"Want me to get in there?" I asked, my voice hoarse in excitement.

"Might as well," Dad said. And like that, he was leaning over and bracing his arms on the shower-tub rim, spreading his legs for me.

The first time Dad showed his hole to me, I had a premature ejaculation, I was so turned on. Those days were past me, but my heart always pounded double time to see this sight.

"I love you, Dad," I hissed. I had meant to save that kind of talk for later in the weekend. Or at least for a more appropriately intimate moment. But it just came out.

"Love ya too, Drew," he replied.

I could tell he was holding himself dead steady. This part involved more delicate razor work. I spread his crack further open with my fingers and flicked away the hairs around his pucker. My father's ring had seen more use lately. It wasn't a puffy, slutty hole or anything, but he'd gotten fucked more regularly, even with my absence at school.

"There," I announced, splashing some water on the pucker and wiping it down.

Dad leaned up and turned around. His prick was throbbing again. "You're the best, son," he said, reaching down to ruffle my hair.

I laughed. "Dad, you know how much this drive me crazy." I was already taking the shaving gel and smearing it around his lower abdomen. Dad trained natural and competed in a natural tournament. It put a cap to his size but also meant his belly was normal and relatively flat for a man his age.

He looked down with a look that had a good deal of pride mixed in with the lust. "I've been too scared to ask, but you having fun in college?"

I knew what he was getting at. I kept my attention on the shaving process but as I rinsed of the blade, I answered him. "Not really. Playing ball and keeping up my GPA keeps me pretty focused, you know?"

I knew he liked my answer but he nodded. "Well, I wouldn't mind if you found someone, you know." I think he half believed it. Trying to be the good parent.

I stood up. I was SO hard now. I knew I was tempting myself, but I pulled the waist band over my cock and slid my shorts down. Dad's eyes widened. "He'd probably have to be a cop," I said. "You and Rick spoiled me."

Dad chuckled. "I can't tell if you're kidding sometimes."

I raised my eyebrow. "I'm not kidding," I said. I pumped some more gel into my hand. The can was running low now, and I'd have to start on the second. I smeared it over his hard round pecs. I wetted down a new blade and brought it up. "I've been thinking a lot actually... I don't know, I'm seriously thinking about going into law enforcement."

"Drew," Dad objected, but he didn't complete his thought.

I shaved the chest in slow, broad swaths. It was beautiful to see Dad's new body emerge before my eyes. "Basketball's great, but I know I'm not NBA material," I explained. I gave a wry smile as I quickly glanced from his chest to his face. "And the pension's good, right?"

He laughed. "Pretty good," he replied. "But it's better in a city." Dad was police chief in a small town force.

"Then you get big city problems," I countered. I now ran the razor gingerly around dad's thick brownish nipple. "But you know what I'm thinking, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Just promise me you're not gonna rush into that decision lightly. I want you to think practically before you commit to anything."

"I will, Dad," I said. Feeling chastised some, but he was right. I had a way of letting my cock do the thinking for me. I leaned in as I flicked the razor along his upper chest, next to the neck. Our cocks touched, wet and leaking.

"Fuck!" Dad gasped.

"I didn't nick you, did I?" I asked, concerned. I'd been more prone to that when we started this, but I'd gotten better and a lot more careful.

"No," he responded. "But please tell me we're gonna make up for lost time this weekend, son."

"We're gonna make up for lost time, Dad," I breathed. Then setting down the razor, I kissed him once more. This once feel deeper and more powerful.

"Damn, buddy," my father said as we broke off. "You've gotten even better at that."

I grinned. "Finish you up?" I asked. "We're almost done."

He nodded and lifted his right arm to let me get the trimmed hairs beneath, then the other. Up close, my father's hard muscled body now seemed bigger and heavier. We were both tall and our combined sized made the bathroom quarters seem particularly close.

"Maybe you can trim the crotch tomorrow. Figure out how much you wanna do." Dad said as I shaved his arms smooth. I could never decide what I thought about a shaved crotch. I used to hate it, but now there was a kinkiness in seeing his mature muscled cop body shaved completely smooth. Dad mostly like not worrying the posing trunks area and was glad for me to go as tight a shave as I wanted.

"Yep," I said.

Finally Dad started up the shower and we both got in. I loved sudsing up his shaved-down body and making out with him. We'd barely stepped out and dried off when we heard a knock.

"What fucking timing," I heard Dad say as he turned his upper body some.

I patted his smooth rump and picked up my shorts to slide them back on. I was achingly hard in them, obscenely so, but I had a good idea who was at the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Rick Caldwell grinned as I opened the door. He was fifteen years younger than Dad and six inches shorter. He was pretty much the textbook example of meathead cop, having been lifting and competing since he was 18. He stood now in full uniform, the bulletproof vest beneath his poly-blue shirt making his chest look that much more expansive, and his huge guns straining the sleeves.

"Dude, it's your room, too," I laughed.

Rick stepped in and set down his bag. He had a big grin on his closely shaved face. "Been too long, kid," he smiled as he stepped up for a kiss. I used to joke that Rick was Dad's boyfriend, but it seemed more and more like he was mine. I groped his hard body and felt him up beneath the uniform.

"Bout damn time, Caldwell," Dad joked as he stepped in to see us making out.

Rick pulled back. "Hiya Chief. Hit some traffic after my shift." He looked up my father up and down. "Your boy does good work."

"He does," Dad said as he stepped up, pulling his hand on my bare shoulder. "Takes his time."

Rick smiked. "I bet." Then, "You guys see all the beef parading around? Lots of law enforcement, too. I figured Junior here's gotta be pretty worked up," he winked at me. I didn't share a first name with my father but that didn't stop Rick from using that as a nickname.

"Understatement," I said. While Rick always encouraged my horndog side, I didn't always like to scope out other guys around Dad. But it was impossible to hide it on occasions like this .

Dad didn't seem to mind now. His fingers playfully dug into my delt muscle. "Drew here's thinking about signing up for the Academy after college." There was some pride in his voice, even tough I knew my father was stubborn enough to try to talk me out of the idea a few times over the upcoming year.

"Yeah?" Rick asked, turning to look at my own smirk. "You'll make a good officer, Junior," he said. Already he was crouching down in front of me and working my shorts.

I almost objected and I knew my body stiffened defensively. Dad and I had just had the most exquisite 40 minutes of foreplay and I worried now that all my patience would be squandered in a half minute's time.

"It's OK, buddy," Dad whispered hoarsely, pullling my upper body tighter against his nakedness. "Let him."

I gapsed as Rick sank his mouth over my precum-wet boner.

"Holy fuck," I gasped, looking down at him, beginning to blow me in full uniform. Big muscle head cop going down on me. Rick was skilled, but more than that he just loved doing it.

It was the two personalities of the men in my life. Dad always telling me to take it slow, to be patient. Training me almost. Rick indulging me and encouraging me to be as horny as any 20 year old would. Rick knew I had several loads in me in a given night. Why wait for the first?

I now rode the pleasure that Rick's bobbing mouth and throat were now giving me. Dad's eyes were cast down too, watching my thick son dick and his reporting officer's talented mouth quickly milking me.

"You're beautiful to watch, son," my father now whispered in my ear. Just us, something Rick probably couldn't hear. That excited me. "And Rick's right, buddy. You'd make a great officer."

I turned and like magic our mouths met. Tongues connecting a second before I started cumming. I shot hard and heavy into Rick Caldwell's craw. He not only swallowed greedily but kept working me to get the dribbles out of me.

"Goddamn," I muttered when Dad finally pulled back.

"Need a minute?" Dad asked. I knew his need was getting more urgent. And Rick had now turned his attention to my father, his chief. Licking along the thick tool that matched mine.

"Yeah," I replied. "Just a sec." I knew I should cool off completely, but I couldn't keep my eyes off these two men.

Rick sucked some more then went back to teasing mode. I don't know why he was doing this to Dad while he went right to sucking me off. But it was hot to watch. Rick finally turned to me. "You up for shaving me down in a bit, Junior?" He ran his hands openly along my father's smooth abdomen. "Get me competition ready?"

"God, yes," I said.

Dad chuckled. "Drives my boy crazy, doesn't it?" he said, looking at me.

I blushed. I don't know why I was embarrassed of the fact but I was.

Rick grinned, seeming to enjoy seeing my shy side. "Junior's gonna be SO worked up after tomorrow afternoon, he might even let us fuck him." Since going to college, I'd gotten into more of a top kick with these guys. Rick and I liked to have playful arguments about that, but he'd just shake his head and said it was a phase for me, that I just needed to prove something.

Rick never felt like he had anything to prove, at least in bed, and Dad was increasingly very open and flexible.

"How long has it been, Junior?" Rick teased, standing up and undoing his utility belt. "You let any of those college coaches sweet talk their way into your hot jock hole?"

Dad laughed. He was enjoying this. "Drew's been a monk up at school," he chimed in. "So he says."

Rick's blue eyes lit up as he pulled up one uniform shoe to a nearby chair to take off, then the other. "Is that right? Well, it's a whole weekend of bodybuilding, buddy," he said to me. "I'm pretty sure you're gonna get laid." It wasn't clear from his words whether he meant just him and Dad, or some other guy. Maybe for Dad's sake he kept it ambiguous, though I knew Rick liked to fool around and encouraged me to get my rocks off when I could.

"Come on, Rick," Dad complained. "Don't corrupt the poor boy."

Rick smirked. "Junior doesn't need me to do any corrupting. I've never met a dude so wired for big muscle."

Dad gave an exasperated smile. He knew his fellow cop was right. Fer christsake, I'd first come out to Dad when he discovered cum-crusted bodybuilding mags in my bedroom. He now turned to me and I could see a lot of emotion in his face, with the lust that had been building. "I know I keep a short leash on ya, Drew. But you're 20 now... you're your own man."

I didn't know if I was gonna take advantage of Dad's implicit offer. Or if I'd even have a chance to. Rick Caldwell had some wild talk sometimes, but the reality didn't always live up to it. I felt strangely touched by the idea of Dad letting me go off for some fun here.

I turned to Rick, "Why don't you get on the bed?" I asked, almost ordered. "No... leave the uniform on." His cock was already poking out of his zipper but it had been a while since I'd experienced a uniform scene.

The request made Rick smile. He gave a mock salute, "Aye aye, Junior." I watched as he got on, lying back, his big muscle body making the mattress sink. I had confidence in my father, but he'd have a hard time winning his division. Rick would have no problem winning his.

I climbed on, mounting his reclined, clothed body and meeting him for a kiss. Dad still didn't know what I had in mind but he stroked his cock and stepped closer to the bed. He told me he never thought he had a voyeur side until he first watched me and Rick fuck. I made out with the cop and pawed the muscled body before I pulled back and looked at my father.

"Just take it easy, Dad, OK?" I said. "It's been a year and a half."

"Yep," Dad answered in his deep voice.

"Fuck, Junior," I heard Rick say. I looked back into his handsome mug. He now whispered to me, almost mouthed the word. "He's missed this, you know?"

I felt bad, but any misgiving were pushed aside as I felt my father's strong hands run my hamstrings and over my bare buns. Then I felt a cool drizzle of lube and his warm finger press it into me.

"He's good at this right?" Rick said as he watched me get into my dad's prep work. The man was kneeling beside me and Rick. I'd alternate between kissing the cop and just enjoying the fingering.

Finally, I was mid-kiss when Dad stretched his muscled body on top of mine and guided his prick to my tight ring. He had the force to work me open, but he didn't rush it. Just steady prodding at my defenses, and once he entered me slow mini thrusts to open me up.

This was incredible. Getting fucked by Dad in the first time in a while. Getting past my stubborn top-only phase. And being there with Rick while I did.

Dad's thrusts were getting more vigorous, more athletic. I could feel the smoothness of his torso against my bare back as he fucked. The man had a hell of a lot of power in him, and Rick and I both gazed into each other's eyes in a feedback loop of horniness. Me getting off on him seeing the incestuous mating and him egging me on.

"Hold on a sec," I finally said. Dad's pumping stopped and he held his body still against mine while he softly kissed my neck.

"You OK, son?" he asked. I could tell from his voice he SO wanted to fuck to completion right then.

"Pull back," I instructed. As he did, I pulled back enough to give Rick enough room for what I was gonna ask. "Flip over officer," I urged.

Rick got the message, pulling down his uniform trousers all the way, his belt clinging and his prick jerking hard. But I didn't have long to see it. Already the big man was squirming to maneuver to a face down position.

Dad figured out what I was angling for and already was smearing lube on to my cock, adding some extra.

I was getting impatient now, and I reached down to guide my boner into Rick's muscle ass. He gave a soft grunt as I found and penetrated his cop hole. I should have gone easier, I knew, but Rick sensed my need and wanted this too.

Already my jock body was collapsing onto his meatier one, fucking deeper into his ass while I felt my dad cover tightly from behind, his own cop dick finding my entrance naturally and boring back in easily.

A sandwich threeway fuck isn't easy to get a rhythm on, and ours wasn't perfect. It was our first, in fact. But Dad did the driving, his hips and ass piledriving that meaty cock deep into me, jamming it against my throbbing prostate and pushing me into Rick, too.

I heard Dad's rumble of orgasm first and the idea he was shooting inside me had me nutting too. My body spasmed as I gave it up and simultaneously accepted Dad's load deep inside.

"Nice, Drew," my father whispered and slowly eased his body off mine."

I now worried it all been too hard on Rick, but as I rolled off, I saw him turn on his side, finally unbuttoning his uniform shirt and peeling it off his kevlar. His prick was angry red and it took me a second to realize the tip was wet.

"You fuckers," he laughed. "I don't know the last time I had a load fucked out of me like that."

"As long as I don't have to sleep in the wet spot," Dad deadpanned.

Rick grinned, peeling down his trousers, down those tree trunk legs and kicking them off. "I think Junior usually takes the middle spot," Rick said.

I got up off the bed. I'd gotten off twice now, in the span of twenty minutes, and I now felt more than a little drained. "I'll take it," I said. "Gladly." My dad was circling around the king bed to step up to me. I was used to the way his fur would get wet with sweat during sex but now the dewy perspiration rolled down smooth muscle.

"That was amazing kiddo," he said. "Thank you."

We kissed softly. We got so absorbed in our making out that I didn't feel Rick's presence until he placed a hand on both of our backs.

"I love watching you guys," he said.

I turned and leaned down to kiss Rick now, and Dad then had his turn.

"OK if we take a rain check on the shave down?" Rick asked. "There should be enough time tomorrow right?"

Dad felt up Rick's front. "You just got some stubble," he observed. "Shouldn't take as long for Drew to do his thing."

Dad rinsed off first, and then while Rick hopped in the shower, I applied the aloe to Dad's body. It was sexual and intimate, but the orgasms had taken the edge off and I could enjoy the act in all its sensuality. Dad and were both chubbed by shy of fully erect.

"You're killing it, Chief," Rick said as he towelled off. I still had to pinch myself that I had both these amazing muscle men to play around with. "You're gonna blow 'em away on stage tomorrow."

"We'll see," Dad said, that earlier nervousness and doubt creeping into his voice again.

The younger cop hung his towel on the hook. "You ever think of competing, Junior?" he asked.

"His body's perfect, Caldwell," Dad interjected. My father had an embarrassed look as he turned to me. "You should do what makes you happy, buddy, but I mean... you're fucking perfect." His voice cracked in a serious tone. "And any one of those muscle heads walking around this weekend would be lucky to make it with you."

Rick patted my back and winked in a conspiratorial way. "Chief's a big softie. But he's right. You are looking extra studly these days." He turned to Dad. "They looking for some extra tall recruits at the Academy, Chief?"

Dad grinned and nodded. "If that's what the boy wants to do... I'd say so." My father held my gaze and then winked, patting my on the shoulder before going back into the main part of our room.

Somehow, unbelievably, I had a fully hard cock once more.

"You want another crack at my ass, Junior?" Rick asked quietly.

It was tempting. But I needed a break, and I knew waiting would make it all the better. "Tomorrow, OK?"" I asked.

The big cop reached down and gave my dick a quick tug. "You got it. A celebration after I win, maybe?"

"Definitely," I said. I knew Rick would win, all right.

"All right, Junior, let's get some rest... big day tomorrow."

"Yes, Officer," I said and followed him back into the bedroom.

#drakestories

246 notes · View notes

syd-djarin · 7 months

Text

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter one: the new neighbors

*18+ Minors DNI*

Word count: ~2000+

Warnings: FLUFF, nervous reader, a hint of masturbation (f & m), neighbor!joel needs a warning, eventual smut

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

Author/s Notes: this is my first fic, so ofc I had to write Joel, and I have a weakness for neighbor!Joel.

this will be a series and I'm so excited to share this :) this is super self-indulgent, making reader based off myself so shameless self-insert kinda? lol

a huge thank you & ily to my babe @katiexpunk for helping me make edits/bouncing ideas and encouraging me to dive into writing <3

Tags: no outbreak AU, neighbor!joel, reader is sweetie pie, age gap (reader is mid-late 20's, joel is late 30's-early 40's in this), dilf!joel, gratuitous descriptions of joel being strong & sexy, f & m masturbation, eventual smut, fluff

AUSTIN, TX OCT 2005

You’ve lived in this neighborhood for the majority of your life, with the exception of your time in college.

Now that you’ve finished your undergrad, your parents, now retired and living in Maine, have graciously offered for you to stay in your childhood home. It wouldn’t be forever, you think, just until something comes through for you to use your degree on.

The neighborhood hasn’t changed that much through the years; some of the houses got renovations or additions, although many of the homes were the same that they have always been. Many of the people living in the cul-de-sac had known you since you were just a baby, and like to remind you of that more often than you’d like.

Occasionally a home would go up for sale, and it just so happened that the house directly across the street from yours was one of them – a classic blue Ranch style home, well maintained, albeit a bit outdated, but full of potential. The previous owners lived there for nearly four decades, and the entire neighborhood is antsy to solve the mystery of who’ll move in next.

You had assumed that the next tenants would be another nuclear family type – the stereotypical, American family - husband, wife, two kids, the works. Much to your surprise, a single father and his daughter were the succeeding residents of the house. A ruggedly handsome single father, at that.

+++

Move in day came for your new neighbors and just like everyone else who resided here, you couldn’t help but to be nosy, curiosity getting the best of you.

You discreetly parted your living room blinds, your curiosity at its peak, as your new neighbors began unloading the hefty boxes from their U-Haul and settling into their new abode. You even went to check the mail to get a closer peek, despite having already checked it earlier in the day when it arrived.

You couldn’t help but ogle at the broad-shouldered man lifting boxes as if they weigh nothing. His dark gray t-shirt clings to his biceps for dear life and you feel your pussy involuntarily throb every time he lifts up the bottom of it, bringing it to his forehead to wipe the sweat collecting there, each time revealing his soft tummy and the dark hair that trailed down from his belly button.

You imagine yourself holding onto those brawny arms, while he pounds-

Oh my god, get a grip, you internally chastise yourself. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten laid, defending yourself for conjuring up dirty fantasies of a man whose name you didn’t even know.

You decided you’d go introduce yourself once it appeared that they’d finished unloading the moving truck, not wanting to disrupt or cause an intrusion.

Baking being one of your love languages, you decide to make your new neighbors your grandma's famous cookies – snickerdoodles and chocolate chip. The recipes don’t call for much, but your grandma swears it’s the love that goes into them that makes them as good as they are. She had taught you to bake at a young age; ensuring you knew the fundamentals, techniques, and the importance of quality ingredients. She also taught you that the best gift you could give is a dessert, one that requires your time and attention.

Besides wanting to be a welcoming neighbor, baking provides you with a necessary distraction to your nefarious thoughts about the new neighborhood DILF. Were these cookies for him, sure, but it proved to be quite a successful deterrent from your naughty thoughts, allowing you the space to fully engross yourself in the task of making the dough, folding in the chocolate chips, rolling the batches into little balls, and spacing them out evenly on the tray before popping them in the oven.

After a couple of hours, the cookies now cool, and the warm autumn sun begins to set. Your home smells of warm sugar, a nostalgia that brings a smile to your face. You peek out the window and notice the moving truck is now gone, and figure now was as good a time as any to introduce yourself.

You neatly package the goodies into their designated container, draw on your oversized flannel and shoes, and begin your brief trek across the street. As you begin walking down your porch steps you’re hit with a wave of nervousness, your stomach does backflips and your heart beats faster. Get it together. You take several deep breaths and hold onto the cookie container a little tighter before continuing on your mission. Why are you such a nervous wreck? I mean, it’s just some guy, you (unsuccessfully) try to reason with yourself.

Reaching the front door, you knock– tap, tap, tap. A brief moment passes, and the door opens, leaving only the space of the doorframe between you and a young girl with wide, curious eyes and beautiful curly brown hair staring back at you.

“Hi there, I’m your neighbor across the street,” you say, gesturing towards your own home, “I wanted to introduce myself – I brought you some cookies, just a little something to say welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Cookies! Ah sweet, I love cookies - what kind?” she asks, not at all trying to hide her fairly obvious interest for them and less in you.

“There’s chocolate chip and a few snickerdoodles,” you reply, giving her an amused smile.

Her father, the devastatingly handsome one, makes his way up behind her and stands in the doorframe, halfway inside and halfway onto the porch where you stand. He was a sight to behold up close: dark hair that had a loose curls and a beard, both lightly dusted with some grays, chocolate brown eyes you could drown in, a mustache that perched atop plush lips.

He’s muscled in the shoulders and arms, which act as a nice compliment to his soft torso. He had the kind of physique that came from hard labor, which only fuels your attraction to him more.

If this were a cartoon, you were sure your eyes would be bulging out of their sockets in the shape of hearts.

“Oh, uh–hi,” you say, perhaps an octave too loud. “I was telling your daughter here that I brought over some cookies, you know, as a welcome gift,” you pause, realizing you hadn’t even introduced yourself. “I’m your neighbor, I live just across the way,” you say, nodding to your house. You turn back to face him and fidget with your hair. Through a nervy smile, you manage to give him your name.

“I’m Joel, this here’s Sarah,” he says, voice gruff and smooth at the same time. He holds out his hand to shake yours. You hope he wouldn’t notice how sweaty your hand is; maybe it’s the nerves, or the still-sticky Texan air, despite it being October. Probably both.

His palm is warm; worn and calloused in some places, but firm and inviting. You couldn’t help but gawk at how small he made your hand feel in his. He releases your grip; bringing you out of your brief trance, and your eyes once again meet.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Joel and Sarah,” you smile and hold out the container of cookies for Joel to take. Before he can even reach up to grab them, Sarah already has her hands on them and has run back into the house, murmuring something that sounds like thanks as she does.

He had just met you, but Joel couldn’t deny how much he likes hearing you saying his name in your gentle, nectarous voice.

Your hands now empty, you nervously interlace your fingers and twirl your thumbs, unsure of what to say next. Joel’s eyes take note of the smudge of flour on your cheek – cute. He also notices the flour in the cleft of your cleavage, but he tries not to make that fact obvious. The flour between your breasts stares back at him, but he collects his composure, averting his gaze back to you. He should point it out to you, he thinks, but you seem shy and he doesn’t want to embarrass you, or scare you away from wanting to come over again.

“‘Preciate the cookies, sweetheart,” he says, voice low. His eyes stay glued to your face. You avert your eyes downwards and cross your arms, buckling under the weight of his gaze. You felt your cheeks and chest grow hot at his use of sweetheart.

“I’m just – uh,” you trip over your words, nervous, “I’m just across the street if you need me,” you offer, giggling at the suggestive way that sounds, “you know, like a cup of sugar or anything like that,” you add.

Joel nods in reply, edges of his mouth coming up in a smirk as if to acknowledge your kindness, being careful not to full on grin in amusement of his apparent effect on you.

“Same to you,” he says before closing the door, perhaps eyeing you a moment too long as you walk away. He turns to enter the house, only to find Sarah staring at him, cookie in hand, and a knowing grin on her face.

“Why didn’t you tell her she had flour all over herself?” she asks, teasing, like she could already tell he was embarrassed to admit the truth.

“Did she? Hmm, didn’t seem to notice,” he says, trying to hide the lie behind a weak cough, before walking away, cheeks obviously flushed.

Back in the safety of your own home, you come to a still with your hand pressing on the door, reeling from your interaction with Joel. You were wired up, buzzing with arousal and nerves.

And God, the way he called you sweetheart.

You replay the moment over and over in your head, not wanting to forget his Texan twang or the way he looked at you when he said it. You could have died, right then and there. You let your mind run wild, thinking of all the things you wanted to do with him, what you wanted to do to him.

Needing to relieve the throbbing ache in between your legs, you decide a shower is in order. When stepping into your bathroom, you catch yourself in the mirror. You were mortified at the discovery of the flour on your face and chest. You had been so engrossed with baking the cookies and too anxious about taking them over to Joel’s that you failed to give yourself a once-over in the mirror before heading out the door. The arousal you felt temporarily held precedent, you’d process your embarrassment later.

You step into the steamy shower and touch yourself, thinking of Joel. You shove two fingers inside your pussy, imagining they were Joel’s long, thick, dexterous fingers.

Little did you know Joel was having his own feelings about your little introduction.

Several of his new neighbors come to introduce themselves in the coming days, under the guise of welcoming him and his daughter, but in reality, they wanted to get scoop on who they were. Where had they moved from, what prompted the move, we’re they planning on staying short-term, what did he do for a living, was there a Mrs. Joel Miller? And once they found out he was a contractor, there were a whole other set of questions of “would you mind taking a look at my ____”.

He liked the neighborhood, and while the people were nice and seemingly mean well, Joel begins to feel irritation at the consistently prying questions, annoyed that people felt like they were entitled answers to begin with.

But you.

He was not expecting you.

Beautiful, endearing, kind eyes, a smile he thought could end wars. You had been sweet and respectful, and didn't appear to have ulterior motives. It made his heart palpitate and sent blood rushing somewhere he knew it shouldn’t. You were young, too young and sweet, too sweet for a man like him.

Then he saw how you stared at his hands, grew warm and shy when his gaze had lingered too long on you.

That night, with Sarah tucked into bed, he grabs one of the snickerdoodle cookies, Sarah insisting that he save all of the chocolate chip ones for her, but he doesn’t mind; snickerdoodles are his favorite.

He bites into the soft cookie, his eyes fluttering shut as he does, an involuntary reaction to the sweet, perfectly soft texture. He lets out a moan, the kind that is elicited when tasting something delicious.

And the fact that you made them? The thought sends blood straight to his dick.

Joel, in inner turmoil, was trying to resist the temptation to touch himself to the thought of you. God, if your cookies were this good, so sweet and fluffy, how good would you taste.

The thought consumes him, the temptation too strong.

He polishes off more than three of the cookies, before heading to shower. That night he takes his cock in his fist to the thought of you, and your stupidly delicious fucking cookies.

Joel was a gentleman, sure, but he was also a man.

And the best way to get to a man’s heart?

Through his stomach.

THE END

#joel x f!reader #joel miller #neighbor!joel x f!reader #first fanfic #joel fic #joel x reader #joel miller is babygirl #joel fanfic #reader insert #fluff #smut

232 notes · View notes

xplsn · 1 year

Note

Hi, ermh I would like to know more about your dilf!bakugou with a breeding kink ✋

cw: dilf!bakugou, breeding kink, hair pulling kink, oral, unprotected sex, afab parts mentioned, body worship, mentions of tits but if you don't have any you can still imagine its your pecs!! cumplay, sexting etc.

music: you know what's up. link.

a/n: you bet your pretty little ass i'm gonna go on a rant about dilf bakugou any chance i get 🤤 oh and i added some pics because i wanted to give you a visual representation of me while writing this but if you're on desktop the pictures might look a little wonky so sorry about that!!

grrr. he's so salvating. would put my whole pussy out in the open anywhere anytime if it pleases him.

he's in in 40s, more mature and he's aging like fine wine. got a bomb ass uppercut, piercings(lip and ears hello??), big beefy arms, a glimpse of a beard, big juicy titties spilling out of his classic black tanktop, scars from all the years of hero work all over his body that just make him sexier . he's a big booty bitch too!!

dilf!bakugou spending those hours lost doing hero work fucking you and pampering you in ways your sure no one's ever heard of because he didn't get to earlier in his prime as a hero.

dilf!bakugou that fucks you in doggy any chance he gets. obsessed with how deep his cock gets in you in that position. loves watching your ass jiggle, and this position gives him the best chance to let go of all his pent up tension.

dilf!bakugou that's ruthless when he wants to be. has a god sex stamina. can go round after round like nothing else mattered. fucks you till his legs don't work properly.

dilf!bakugou that after he gets tired makes you ride yourself on him. if you thought he'd stop after he got tired then you're dead wrong because he'd still help you bounce on his cock.

dilf!bakugou that has an obsession with your pussy.

dilf!bakugou that begs you to sit on his face till he turns purple.

dilf!bakugou gobbling you down like you're his last meal. your slick and cum running down his throat, your hand tugging at his hair, his nose teasing your clit as you grind up and down.

dilf!bakugou that makes you cum at least 5 times on his fingers and tounge alone.

dilf!bakugou that is obsessed with creampies. loves watching his cum run down and ruin his sheets. fucks you over and over till your bloated and full with loads and loads of his cum.

dilf!bakugou that lets his most vulnerable faces and sounds out around you.

dilf!bakugou losing his fucking mind as you dominate him in the amazon position. his curls bouncing on his face as he clings onto the sheets for dear life almost ripping them.

dilf!bakugou's thick ringed fingers stretching you for all your worth.

dilf!bakugou that has sensitive nips that you love to suckle on.

speaking of nips,

dilf!bakugou that's obsessed with your tits. It doesn't matter if they're big or small, a titty is a titty and he needs it in his face.

dilf!bakugou that'll suck on your tits all the time. not just when he's horny, even when he isn't will force you to lift your shirt so he can just lay on your chest with a titty in his mouth as you do a mundane task like scrolling on your phone or reading.

if you lactate then it’s over for you because that man will be on your tits for the rest of his life.

he'll be balls deep in you and then get an urge to suck on your tits so he'll stop and lay on you as he slurps on them.

dilf!bakugou that holds you down on his cock as your sucking him with both hands, making you just be able to breath his musky scent cause he's that selfish .

dilf!bakugou that loves watching you gag on his cock.

dilf!bakugou that loves reducing you to tears.

dilf!bakugou that smells like a masculinity blend of his musk and something like patchouli and toffee.

dilf!bakugou that has you on his back as he does push ups to see if he still got it.

dilf!bakugou that'll carry you around by throwing you over his shoulder or by bridal.

dilf!bakugou that gets bath things like bath salts, and oils and scents so you and him can have a relaxing bath date every week. he'll rest is head against the tiles as you rest yours on his chest listening to his heart beat. cause god knows how much his body needs it. he's doing this 99% for himself but you don't need to know that plus it gives him an excuse to be with you more!

expect a lot of sexting. sure he's slowing down on hero work because his body and mind can't take it but he's still a hero so there will still be long nights spent in his agency doing paperwork and what not.

so he expects you to send loads of lewd pics and videos on those lonely nights spent at his office desk.

dilf!bakugou that can't keeps his eyes off of you. even though he's not a big fan of PDA he will hold your hand, keep you very close to you and on days where he just can't get enough of you, he'll whisper naughty things in your ear that leave you leaking and making a run for it to your house.

dilf!bakugou that buys you lots of lingere and undergarments specially tailored and custom just for you.

dilf!bakugou that has fucked you in every corner in the house.

dilf!bakugou that bends you over tables or counters. and makes you be pantie-less most of the time because it just gives him better access.

dilf!bakugou that will see it fit that all your cravings are satisfied because you are his it, and he'd be a fool to not make you his and honestly, you're his only will to keep going and wake up in the morning everyday.

dilf!bakugou that's big on body worship. will spend hours teasing every corner of your body until he reaches the spot you've been aching for this entire time. sucking and leaving hickies all over your body in his wake specially in places he knows only he'll get to see. like the insides of your thighs and the valleys between your breasts.

dilf!bakugou that would create minor problems, just so you two would argue and he could angry fuck you.

dilf!bakugou that knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. because aside from the amazing sex, you make him whole again.

#withoutyou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #katsuki #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki smut #mha smut #mha oneshot #bakugou katsuki drabble #dilf!bakugou #dilf!katsuki #dilf!katsukibakugou #mha fic #mha x y/n #mha bakugou

866 notes · View notes

charmwasjess · 6 months

Text

If there’s a legit good reason why Qui-Gon chose to specialize in form IV, Ataru, the Hawkbat lightsaber form, aside from the simple, likely fact that he did it to troll his old Master Dooku (who outright calls the acrobatics of the form “ridiculous,”) I’d like to hear it. By which I mean I’ll write you a post about it.

Ataru is fast, aggressive, and inclined to treat the battlefield as a 3D space where the air is just as comfortable a place to be as on your own two feet. A direct response to Soresu, the “defense is my attack” form, Ataru flips that into “attack is my defense.” (We won’t talk about Makashi’s contribution to the conversation: “no defense whatsoever, but think fast, I just threw a dinner fork at you so hard it stuck in your metal arm!”)

Of course, the most recognizable and classic application of Ataru is Yoda’s; we see him whizzing around people’s heads like a little green hummingbird in his AotC and RotS duels. Qui-Gon’s version looks nothing like that. If we weren’t told, I think it would be hard to guess that those characters are using the same form. In Duel of the Fates, Qui-Gon has to move down or over those infamous walkways repeatedly. He just jumps them: no flips, no aerial maneuvers, no bouncing off the walls. And this isn’t simply a practical choice for his age and build: Jocasta Nu is running up walls and leaping out of skyscrapers at easily aged 40 years older than Qui-Gon, and for all Dooku’s bitching over Ataru acrobatics, he does more flips to simply avoid walking down a few stairs than Qui-Gon, Master of the flip form, does in his entire time on screen.

And yet, on some level, all of that makes perfect sense for Qui-Gon. Who better to completely subvert a form? This is a character who is contrary as fuck, full of wonderful contradiction, who blends lightsaber theory centered on attack and aggression with literal meditation. While the most notable scene, actually kneeling in the pose and everything, is in TPM, he does battle meditation repeatedly on a mental level in the Master and Apprentice and Padawan novels. (And it rightfully freaks out Obi-Wan.) Qui-Gon takes Ataru’s “your whole body is a weapon” and doesn’t apply that to somersaults, but rather, to moves like punching Darth Maul off a balcony as we see him do in Duel of the Fates. He fights in a way that throws himself bodily up against obstacles. You can see the same physicality of his relationship with his weapon in the scene where he is simply burning through the blast doors in TPM. We’ve seen Jedi cut through things on screen other times, but that scene is remarkable and memorable for Qui-Gon’s level of intensity. He is the battering ram.

And we could loop back into lineage, couldn’t we? Qui-Gon stands in a line of Jedi with unconventional relationships to their lightsaber forms; their choices are formed in context of and in conversation with each other. Those backward, momentum-gaining swings from Duel of the Fates look very familiar, but who trained Qui-Gon? (And who notoriously had a problem with Ataru and might've pushed his student on some workarounds or encouraged him to cut out bits he didn't like, such as aerials?) And speaking of, is it a stretch to think that Dooku’s own casual backflips are less a considered choice and more an old habit, being himself trained by a Master who has only a theoretical relationship with gravity?

All this to enjoy just another example of how personal the lightsaber forms can be to specific Jedi, and what wonderful fun it is to unpack the ways they use them differently because of their unique personalities and lineage.

#lightsaber nerd stuff #lightsaber forms #qui gon jinn #count dooku #makashi #ataru #the clone wars #star wars analysis #yoda #the phantom menace #disaster lineage #master dooku

168 notes · View notes

mygreatadventurehasbegun · 11 months

Text

Something I’ve been thinking about lot lately are movies that I would introduce to people who haven’t seen many (or any) movies from Classic Hollywood. If a friend came to me and asked me to recommend old movies, what would I choose?

What do I consider Old Hollywood “gateway movies”?

*Originally was going to stick to movies made before 1960, but one 60′s movie could not be ignored.*

Roman Holiday

I’ve heard this referred to as a “reverse Cinderella story” and I think that’s a great description. It’s about a woman who just wants to get away from her stressful life and have fun...even if for only one day. It really has it all...it’s lighthearted, funny, romantic and bittersweet. And while these are in no particular order, this would probably be the first movie I’d suggest to someone.

On The Waterfront

To me, this works as a great introduction because it actually is a bit of a transition movie for Hollywood...and by that I’m referring to the acting style. Nearly every actor in this movie came from The Actor’s Studio, bringing the more grounded, realistic approach to acting that modern audiences are used to (compared to the more presentational style of the 30′s and 40′s). So, this movie is a great way to ease them into Old Hollywood. And the story still feels relevant today...trying to find the courage to stand up to the big guy who has his foot on the back of everyone’s neck...and risk alienating your friends in the process.

The Adventures of Robin Hood

Of course, I was going to recommend this one! This movie is just...so much fun...even if a person is new to Classic Hollywood, they are guaranteed to find something they like about this one. Even if it’s just the swordfights or the score...but honestly, everyone I’ve shown this to has really enjoyed it (even people who don’t like adventure movies).

Casablanca

Yes, this seems like an obvious choice, since it’s one of the greatest movies ever made. But there’s a reason for that. The acting, directing and writing are iconic and you really can’t ask for more. Plus, one of the main points of the story is about sticking it to the Nazi’s. I think we can all (hopefully) agree that that’s a point in this movie’s favor.

12 Angry Men

Another movie that still feels timeless and relevant even after all these years. It discusses themes of class, parent/child relationships, justice, ignorance and so much more, you’d believe it was written today. And the performances from every single actor in that room is outstanding...there are some scenes that are so electric as you feel the tension rising.

How to Steal a Million

Another Audrey movie! This is a perfect option is someone wants to watch a fun, fluffy comedy. It’s light and relatively low-stakes...it almost feels like a send-up of heist movies, except they don’t wink at the camera. It’s just that instead of stealing something because the fate of the nation depends on it, or to stick it to the man...Nicole just wants to steal back something she already owns. And the way they go about it is absurdly hilarious. The chemistry between our two leads helps a lot, as they are so much fun to watch.

Summer Stock

If I was only going to recommend one musical from back then, I’d have to recommend Summer Stock! Not just because it’s one of my favorites, but because I do think it’s a fairly good choice to ease someone into older musicals. It’s not super elaborate and grand...no Busby Berkely musical numbers or elaborate sequences...just a bunch of people trying to put on a show. And the love story between Joe and Jane feels so real and grounded...no love at first sight, no enemies to lovers...just two people who happen to be perfect for each other, and were lucky enough to meet. This is Gene Kelly and Judy Garland at their best and I want other people to see it.

Rear Window

And if they wanted to see a Hitchcock movie, but maybe aren’t super into horror...I think I’d start them off with Rear Window. This isn’t a traditional scary movie...as with most Hitchcock movies, it’s all about the tension. But it isn’t released with jump scare and music stingers. And around the tension, you have this romantic drama between James Stewart and Grace Kelly, which is so fun to watch (and we can’t forget Thelma Ritter and her one-liners!)

And once they become hooked, the next round of films I’d suggest would be: A Streetcar Named Desire, The Maltese Falcon, Psycho, The Philadelphia Story, The Heiress, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and Meet Me in St. Louis.

Any that you would add?

#roman holiday #rear window #summer stock #on the waterfront #the adventures of robin hood #how to steal a million #casablanca #12 angry men

328 notes · View notes

ceofjohnlennon · 14 days

Text

How did John Lennon spend his days off during cold, rainy days? Curled up on the smallest sofa in the house. ㅡ From the book "The Beatles' Paperback Writer: 40 years of classic writing" by Mike Evans.

#john lennon #the beatles #60s #40 years of classic writing #mike evans #my:read

74 notes · View notes

sunsetconcert · 15 days

Text

In 1994, the Muppets made one of their most bizarre films to date.

An adaptation of Goncharov, a cult classic that languished in obscurity until the 2020s. While the film was referred to internally and in public reviews of the film as "The Muppets of Naples", the actual marketing of the movie instead titled it after its main lead: "Gonzorov". This was one of many enigmatic choices made by the production crew, and has never been elaborated on by the cast or crew. The film was a gigantic flop for multiple reasons, but most agree that the source of the troubles stems from the nature of Goncharov as a tragedy and a generally depressing movie to watch.

Reportedly, conflicts among the writing staff began almost immediately due to being unable to decide on which cut of Goncharov to base the film on. Eventually, however, director Brian Henson put his foot down and forced the writers to adapt the Ambrosini Cut. Generally agreed to be a less depressing movie than the Morelli Cut, it was expected that "Gonzorov" should have been a much more entertaining and narratively adept movie than it was. As the Muppets proved just two years later in "Muppet Treasure Island", they are very capable of handling otherwise dramatic material with aplomb. This leaves the question of why this movie was such a flop.

To quote Kermit the Frog during the interviews after the cinema debut, the movie was allegedly emotionally draining for the crew to adapt. "You know, we have a script. Mostly. But we do a lot of improv too. I'd wager it's about 60% script, 40% improv on a good day of filming. But, uh… We just weren't feeling it with this one, you know? We watched the original, and… Boy, it's really sad. Goncharov's just kind of a lonely guy trying to make himself a life. And it's not a good life, but it's his to own, and it ultimately kinda falls apart. Gonzo tried to make the role his own, but I think we all realised that we couldn't really make a joke out of the movie in the way that we wanted to."

The Muppets were skillful enough to change the genre to an absurdist tragicomedy, a film where the tragic and meaningless cycle of violence is paradoxically played for laughter. However, despite this, the film is well-known for its bizarrely melancholy air and almost hopeless atmosphere. Everybody seems thoroughly certain that their improv will have little to no impact on the film as a whole, creating a strange and compelling meta-narrative where not even the actors themselves can escape the almost gravitational pull of the ticking clock. Their characters will die, and any attempts to joke their way out of it comes off as desperate, almost deluded in a sense.

The original Goncharov held a deep fascination with inevitability. Clocks are the primary theme, though it appears in other forms. It is this same inevitability that strangles the Muppets, their impressive comedic skills held captive by their own belief that the narrative is inescapable.

Of particular note is the bridge scene, wherein Gonzorov and Katya (played by the dazzling Miss Piggy) discuss the slow collapse of the Italian mafia. The original Goncharov scene had Goncharov desperately trying to hold things together, even as they slipped through his fingers, but here… Gonzorov realises that it's pointless. He can't fix it, but at the same time he can't let it go. He begs Katya to shoot him. Cut to the chase. She's going to shoot him anyway, that's how the movie ends, right? Might as well go out on his own terms. But this horrifies Katya, and she throws her gun away, accidentally saving Gonzorov in the process.

This adds a new layer to the themes of inevitability that Goncharov is wrapped up in, and it's this: Inevitability goes both ways. You're going to die, but only when you're meant to. You don't get lucky. You don't have accidents. Inevitability is a ticking clock, but that countdown is a safety net. As long as you can still hear that clock ticking down, it means you've stitll got time to burn. When a bomb is counting down, just five minutes until it detonates, you do everything you can to buy yourself more time on the clock. Even if all your effort only gains you an extra second, that's what you have to do, right? A single second is worth the blood of innocent men.

But again, inevitability. That second you earned cost you minutes, cost hours days weeks months years. The clock WILL run out.

54 notes · View notes

sweaterkittensahoy · 1 month

Text

Hey, you wanna crochet a pencil skirt? I got a tutorial for you!

Years ago, I made a video tutorial for making a pencil skirt. It ended up on the front page of ravelry, which was fucking wild.

Anyway, time has passed, I’ve kept making pencil skirts, and now I’m here with what we’ll call Tutorial 2.0. Let’s get to it:

Supplies:

Yarn

Hook

Clear Elastic Cord or woven belting

Buttons or Zipper

Step 1: Measuring

Measure the following things:

Your waist.

The widest part of your hips.

The length between your waist and the widest part of your hips.

For example measurements, I will use my own:

Waist: 33”

Hips: 43”

Length between: 8”

Step 2: Gauge swatch

A gauge swatch will help you accurately size your skirt. Work a gauge swatch of ten stitches across and ten rows. You can use any stitch you want for your skirt, but I tend to use single crochet for the waistband and double crochet for the body of the skirt. When I do a gauge swatch, I work it in double crochet since that is what I use for the skirt body.

Write down your number of stitches per inch, and the number of rows per inch.

For our example, let’s say I get 4 stitches per inch and 2 rows per inch.

Step 3: Make the waistband

Crochet a chain to the same length as your waist measurement. Work in single crochet rows until the waistband is 1 inch tall. You can work clear elastic cord on the wrong side of the rows to add some stretch to your waistband. You can also work the waistband without elastic and use belting at the end to help hold the skirt in place. I have an example of belting in this video.

Step 4: Start the body of the skirt

Once you have the waistband 1-inch tall, you can start the body of the skirt by completing a row in pattern stitch. Once you’ve done that, wrap the waistband where you want it to sit, with the open ends at the back.

Step 5: Add increases

This pencil skirt uses raglan increases. There will be four points on the skirt where you will always increase. You will work 3 stitches into each increase, always placing the next increase in the second stitch of a previous increase.

These increases should shape close to your body to give you the classic pencil skirt fit. For best results, place increases in the same places on either side of the skirt. Line them up with the front curve and back curve of your leg (the green line is the leg).

I find it easiest to mark one side of the skirt, then simply count over from the other end the same number of stitches for both increases on the other side.

Step 6: Let’s math it up!

To make sure your skirt’s gonna curve correctly, you need to be sure you can hit the last round of increases you need within the length you have between your waist and your hips. As I mentioned earlier, my waist is 33” and my hips are 43” with an 8” length between. I get 2 rows per inch and 4 stitches per inch.

First, I need to know how many stitches I will need to add to my starting count:

33 (waist measurement) x 4 (stitches per inch) = 132 stitches

43 (hip measurement) x 4 (stitches per inch) = 172 stitches

172 - 132 = 40 stitches

Second, I need to figure out how many sets of increases I need to do to add those 40 stitches. On every row I increase, I add 8 stitches.

40 / 8 = 5 rows of increases.

Third, I need figure out how many rows I have to work to reach the full 8 inches between my waist and the widest part of my hips. I know my waistband is 1 inch. I know the one row of pattern stitch I’ve completed for the skirt body is ½”.

8 inches (total length between waist and hips) - 1-½” (amount of skirt already worked) = 6-½” to work.

I get 2 rows per inch.

2 x 6 = 12 rows

And then 1 more row for the other ½”. So, that’s 13 rows I need to work, but I only need 5 rows of increases. This means that I can work increase rows, then work a row or two even. This will keep the curve of the skirt smooth. The increase pattern may look like this:

Row 2 of skirt body: Increase

Row 3: work even

Row 4: work even

Row 5: Increase

Row 6: work even

Row 7: Increase

Row 8: work even

Row 9: work even

Row 10: Increase

Row 11: work even

Row 12: Increase

Row 13: work even

I do recommend working one row even between each increase row. That is 100% a personal preference.

Step 7: Join and work in rounds!

After you’ve completed the final increase round, you can join to the first stitch of the row and work in rounds for the rest of the skirt. This will let you try it on as you add length, so you can see how it’s building. When it’s the final length you want, fasten off.

Step 7: Waist and fastenings.

If you carried elastic cord on the back of the waistband when you worked the waistband, you can either add a zipper or buttons, depending on what you’d prefer. I like zippers just because I’m bad at buttonholes.

If you did not carry elastic, you can either sew in a strip, or you can use belting to create a stronger waistband that will keep its shape over time. If you choose to use a zipper with the belting, I recommend putting the belting in first because then it can act as extra support for the top of the zipper.

Once you’ve finished off that way, you’re good to go. I bet you look great!

Final notes:

If you need more than 8 increases per increase row to get your skirt the right hip measurement at the correct point in your hip, you can add more increases. Here’s an example:

If you want a pencil skirt that is a big snugger in the butt, work an inch without increases, then complete decreases in the same spots you had previously been increasing (You’ll decrease over 3 stitches for each decrease to match your increase count). Work a row or two even, try on, and then decrease again if you want to. Repeat as much as you’d like to get a very close fit.

If you keep working increases, you’ll get an A-line skirt. You can still join at the end of the final increase you need to hit your hip width and work in rounds after that.

#crochet tutorial #tutorial #crochet skirt #pencil skirt #crochetblr #this will go on the official blog i have probably tomorrow #but it's done so have it now

51 notes · View notes

racfoam · 6 months

Text

A Muggle AU Harrymort fic where Voldemort is a killer (he is in his late 40s/early 50s when the fic happens. I had to push his year of birth forward by 4 decades but if you want me to write Old Man Muggle Voldemort fucking Harry I AM NOT AFRAID BRING IT ON) who killed Harry's parents and 20 years later 21-year-old Harry visits him in jail and he ends up becoming obsessed with her.

Some background info for the scenes below:

1st Scene - First meeting, short sentences.

2nd scene: This is set in the jail when Harry visits Voldemort and gifts him Shakespeare’s Plays Hardcover Book for his birthday. This capybara is absolutely using this fic as an excuse to extend my knowledge on English and classic literature.

3rd scene: At this point, Voldemort has kidnapped Harry and is driving her to the Riddle Manor from London to Yorkshire and there is Forced Marriage, they are married already in this scene.

4th scene: They stop at a petrol station and Harry has a plan to get free. Bcs tumblr is being a little bastard and not letting me paste it, I'll make a post exactly for it. FUCK YOU, TUMBLR.

1st Scene (First Meeting)

He did not look like a killer. Except… Except the eyes. Those were a killer’s eyes.

2nd Scene (Jail Visit)

“What’s your favourite?” asked Voldemort, pulling Harry out of her thoughts. “What?” asked Harry, blinking. “Shakespeare,” he replied calmly. “What’s your favourite play of his?” Harry shrugged. “They were all boring to me, really.” Voldemort chuckled. His long, slender fingers touched the cover of the book, in the exact same spot where Harry's fingers had been holding it a few minutes ago. A slow, fond caress. His cold gaze never strayed from hers.

[Voldemort is wishing his fingers were caressing Harry’s skin rather than the leather cover of the book.]

“I think you’d like A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” said Voldemort, continuing to brush the cover of the thick book. It was making Harry uneasy. His gaze was burning into her. “Because it isn't a tragedy, unlike so many of his works. Some are so dark and morbid, aren't they? And you don’t like tragedies, Harry.”

“There is a scene, where Lysander, who has forgotten Hernia because of a flower juice poured over his eyes, sees her once again, and falls in love with her all over again.” said Voldemort, looking at Harry.

Harry wondered how a man so old could be so beautiful.

3rd Scene (Roadtrip)

It was a dark Bentley Arnage Uncle Vernon would be jealous of. Harry couldn’t truly appreciate it with her right hand handcuffed to the door handle. Harry also couldn’t appreciate the casettes it was playing, either, because she wanted to chuck herself out of the window because it was playing Sweet Caroline. What was worse... Voldemort was singing over it. And the bloody bastard was a bloody good singer. “Sweet Caroline,” sang Voldemort, his silken voice somehow better than Neil Diamond’s, and Harry truly hated thinking it. “Good times never seemed so good...” Voldemort was jolly, smiling broadly, like a man from the 50s celebrating marrying the prettiest girl in town. It was unnerving, chilling the blood in her veins. “Oh, come on, Harry,” said Voldemort, glancing Harry's way with a slightly offended expression when he saw she was glaring at him instead of joining him in singing. “You know this one.” Clenching her jaw, Harry was starting to truly, consciously consider committing first degree murder.

4th Scene (Petrol Station)

Voldemort parked the Bentley beside the petrol pump. He shut off the car engine, pulled out the car key and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Stay here, my dear.” he said, leaning over to place a quick, but nevertheless warm kiss on Harry’s left cheek. By the time Harry registered what happened, Voldemort was opening the doors, closing them shut. The heat of his lips lingered on her cheek, molten hot like venom. Harry leaned her head over the seat, her heart racing. She watched Voldemort move to the petrol container on the left side of the car. It was better not to do anything. He’ll have to go in and pay for the petrol. That’s when Harry will start digging for the key of the handcuffs. Harry watched Voldemort, and he must have noticed it, because he turned his gaze toward her, giving her an ardent, covetous look, the sharpness of his eyes softening, his lips pulling into a charming smile. Harry’s heart performed a sommersault. Flinching, she turned back around, facing forward. Her face felt hot, and there was a burning heat low in her belly. She heard the hum of the petrol as the petrol pump turned on, pouring petrol into the petrol tank of the car. For a while, Harry focused on that, trying to forget the soft lines of Voldemort’s face. Voldemort opened the doors, making Harry jump. “Are you hungry?” he asked her. “No,” replied Harry dully, staring at the shop because she didn’t want to look at Voldemort in that moment. It was the truth. Harry wasn’t having much of an appetite at all. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” “Um,” said Harry awkwardly, because she was feeling her bladder was getting full. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Voldemort hummed. “After I pay.” he said, then closed the doors gently. To think such gentle movements and gallant behaviour could shift to monstrous within a blink. Harry watched Voldemort walk into the petrol station store. When the doors closed behind him, Harry started reaching her free left hand toward the storage compartment, but then she saw Voldemort pull out a credit card and swipe it across the card-reader. Fuck. The next second, Harry retracted her hand back to her lap, and the second after that, Voldemort exited the petrol station carrying a plastic bag. Harry’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Voldemort got back in the car.

“I brought you pads,” he said, much to Harry’s horror, placing the bag in the backseat. He turned on the car and drove to the right, in one of the many empty parking spots, near the bathroom sign. Then, he leaned down and unbuckled Harry’s seatbelt. Harry watched where the key — Fucking hell! Voldemort pulled out the small key of the cuffs from his back pocket, placed it into the lock, and unlocked the cuff. Harry got her right hand away from the open cuff as quickly as she could.

Voldemort got out of the car and opened the doors for Harry, offering her his hand. Harry only put her hand in his because she knew he’d be displeased if she didn’t. His hand was big and surprisingly warm. His long fingers wrapped around her palm, holding her hand tightly, and he helped Harry out of the car, then closed the doors. It was rather warm outside in the summer weather, but nothing serious. They walked, hand-in-hand, to the bathroom section. There wasn't anyone in the women's section. Uncaring, Voldemort stepped in, letting go of Harry’s hand at last and letting her go into the cubicle. Just to be safe — or have an illusion of safety and privacy — Harry locked the doors. She heard Voldemort laugh amusedly, a low sound. Harry quickly did her business, glaring all the while at the doors, flushing red at the awareness Voldemort was on the other side of the doors, listening... Harry couldn’t believe how bad her luck was. The only options she had were to make a run for it now (impossible, she’d need to turn invisible) or steal the keys which were in Voldemort’s back pocket. Harry wanted to smash her head against the wall. Rather death than whatever awaited her with that psychopathic, remorseless murderer. She had to think, and do it fast. Hang on... Pads. “Harry,” said Voldemort coldly, voice darker; it sent chills down her spine, goosebumps along her flesh. “If you’re stalling —” “Um,” said Harry in the most genuine, awkward tone possible.

“I got my period.” A moment of silence. Harry could feel Voldemort’s eyes through the door, and she wondered if he could hear the lie in her voice. “I see.” said Voldemort. Harry smiled at her genius plan. Now Voldemort will have to go back to the car for the pads and Harry can run for it. “Open the doors. I brought one with me.” What kind of creep are you?! Harry thought to scream, but choked it down by a growl. It must have come out as pained (it was pained, but for an entirely different reason, such as this bastard being too thorough!) because she heard Voldemort’s footsteps on the tile. “I won’t enter.” he said, while Harry’s heart raced along with her mind. “I’ll pass it to you.” The plan to run was ruined. Harry doubted she’d get a chance to steal the keys anytime soon before they reached a motel before nightfall, before he... Harry’s breaths quickened, coming out in wheezing, rattling breaths. God. God. God. Why her? She never should have gone there. She never should have stepped foot in that prison. She never should have picked up the phone on the other side of the glass. She never should have bought him that fucking book for his fucking birthday as some fucking kindness. He deserved to rot in there, he deserved to die in there, he was a monster in human form. But Voldemort broke out because of her! Because he wanted her! Because... what had she even done that... What made him... A sniffle broke through Harry’s tumbling thoughts of despair; it belonged to Harry. It was Harry. Harry was sniffling. On the verge of crying. “Harry.” It was his voice. Silken and soft. “I won’t do anything until tonight, as I promised you. Now open the door.” Miserable, Harry got up from the toilet, uncaring for her lack of underwear. Right as she reached for the lock, an epiphany swept over her. Voldemort wanted Harry. It was so simple that Harry felt like laughing. Voldemort wanted Harry. Harry's breaths calmed as sudden realisation swept over her. Any sign of tears vanished. Harry would get those keys even if she had to suck Voldemort off in this bathroom cubicle. Determination burned inside of Harry. Then, she opened the doors, and when Voldemort's hand entered through the gap, holding the pad, Harry grasped his wrist instead, and pulled.

Continuation of 4th scene cus tumblr is a little bitch - This is where Explicit Content is.

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #female harry potter #muggle au

84 notes · View notes

nestofstraightlines · 5 months

Text

I saw a post noting the Hitchhiker's Guide vibes in Wild Blue Yonder, and noticed the replies were full of Doctor Who fans to whom the references were news - fair enough, obviously, Tumblr has a young and international population.

Most Who fans probably know the name Douglas Adams if only vaguely - that this independently successful author was also at once stage in the late 70s Script Editor for Doctor Who and himself wrote three very well-regarded serials for the show.

They may also be aware that he's a particular influence on New Who partly because of that direct connection, and partly because he's kind of to British and/or comedic science fiction what was Tolkein is to fantasy.

So the suggestion you try some Adams if you're a Doctor Who fan is probably not a new idea. But for many, diving into fairly tangentially related fiction from 40+ years ago might not seem very tempting on those grounds alone.

But just in case no one's told you, what Hitchhiker's Guide can offer you as a New Who fan is kind of more New Who.

As I say, though Adams was only briefly (though significantly) in charge of Who itself, his influence on modern Who writing is almost as big on its own as the rest of Classic Who combined.

And it's not just the voice and humour that will ring a bell.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is what happens when you tell the Doctor Who story but take away the Tardis from the Doctor figure. It's a twist on the Doctor Who format where an alien grabs a human away from Earth to travel through a mad galaxy with them, but this alien has no transport of his own and must thumb a ride, and instead of a Littlest Hobo urge to fix every bad situation he stumbles into wishes only to have a good time (bit of a Hartnell touch there I guess).

Crucially I'm not describing a parody of Doctor Who. I don't now that Adams was even super conscious of this read of his most famous tale. But he had certain archetypes in his brain and the comedy writer's habit of wondering 'what if X but Y' and what you get from it could absolutely be described as the Doctor Who show of a different timeline. Something which offers all the pleasures of Doctor Who approached from a different angle.

Finally, in terms of what format to seek out (because Hitchhiker's exists as a radio serial, a set of novels, a TV series and a much later film adaptation) I'd strongly recommend the radio series. In general, and specifically as having the most of offer Doctor Who fans.

The books have become often regarded as somehow the central 'canon' because people assume as books they must have come first. In fact the radio series came first.

I also think it couldn't be more perfect for Doctor Who fans because like that show it's got all the pleasures of great performances as well as the great writing (there is a Hitchhiker's TV series but trust me when I say this is tale built for audio). It's not just full of great performances delivering Adams' comedy perfectly, it also feels huge; the music and sound design evoking such an existentially big, grand, weird, thrilling universe. So especially if you already like Big Finish stories but haven't listened to Hitchhiker's Guide before, you've got such a Who-ish treat awaiting you.

(Toppodcast dot com has it all available.)

#the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy #doctor who #douglas adams #cw warning naturally for the occassional piece of language or framing #nothing egregious that I remember but it's an older text now

73 notes · View notes

ironstrange1991 · 8 months

Text

Defender Strange Random Headcanons

Word Count: 0,800k

Warnings: None.

A/N: Headcanons written picturing the same reader from my previous Defender fics. Let me know if you want headcanons for the other Stephens

1. Defender is definitely a winter person, but since the accident he feels a lot of pain in his hands on cold days.

2. Spooky season is his favorite time of the year. Secretly loves Halloween but he won't admit it because he thinks halloween is a kid's thing.

3. Loves to read. He can spend all night reading. Likes to read novels but prefers to read his magic books. Always ready to learn something new.

4. Forests on rainy days is probably his favorite landscape. He would definitely live in a cabin in the middle of a forest in a tiny town if he could.

5. He's always working, but when he can rest he'll want to spend all day cuddling on the couch with you, eating junk food and watching your shitty tv shows.

6. Loves classical music, but also enjoys classic rock and other music genres. Loves Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds.

7. Amazing cook. Defender can cook any type of food with incredible ease.

8. Watch recipe videos secretly to learn how to cook new dishes to impress you.

9. Writes poetry.

10. Presents you with poems he writes for you.

11. Wears glasses to read, but is terrified you'll see him with them on.

12. Meditates when is very anxious for a mission.

13. Reads to calm you down when you're having an anxiety crisis or just because you asked him to. Will usually read until you fall asleep.

14. He doesn't usually have nightmares, but when he does, he loses sleep and ends up in the library reading.

15. Has nighmares where he's losing you.

16. He is sure he's not strong enough to live without you anymore.

17. It's a light sleeper. Sleeps on his stomach when sleeping alone in bed, but prefers to sleep with you in his arms, usually using his chest as a pillow and caressing his hair.

18. Very romantic and affectionate.

19. Kissing your forehead is his favorite way of saying he loves you without having to say the words.

20. Loves children. Is an amazing father.

21. Takes too many risks in his missions trying to protect everybody else.

22. He is a very serious man.

23. Thinks very carefully before saying anything. Reason always above feelings. His smiles and laughter are reserved only for you.

24. He's definitely a know-it-all, but tries not to come off as arrogant. He doesn't always succeed.

25. Very organized. Hates things out of place.

26. Hates having his things taken away from where he left them.

27. Very strict. He lives by his rules and expects everyone else to follow them too, especially you.

28. Loves to teach. He's a wonderful teacher, but since becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, doesn't teach anymore.

29. Likes animals, but believes the Sanctum is not the place for them, so won't allow you to have them.

30. He's not as vain as he was before the accident, but he spends a lot of time grooming his hair and beard. He's always flawless.

31. Before the accident he used to work out, but now the missions are enough to drain his energy.

32. Feels guilty for spending too much time working.

33. He loves that you take care of him when he arrives tired from his missions.

34. Loves hot baths with you. Loves that you wash and comb his hair.

35. Loves that you massage his back.

36. He doesn't swear a lot, but when he does, his favorite curse word is fuck.

37. It's not competitive.

38. He is extremely respected by everyone as Sorcerer Supreme and leader of the Defenders, for that reason he doesn't usually get into confrontations, but when necessary he can be extremely angry.

39. He doesn't usually get into fights or arguments, least of all with you. Tries his best to work things out by talking.

40. He knows how to hide his emotions very well, but he manages to open up to you a little.

41. Loves going to the theater. Loves musicals.

42. Gets mad if you disobey any of his rules and end up putting yourself in danger.

43. He hates asking for help with anything, especially if it has to do with his hands, but if he needs it he will ask you for help.

44. He hates driving since he had the accident so he uses magic to go anywhere.

45. Breakfast is his favorite food.

46. He prefers salty food to sweet food.

47. He doesn't usually drink, but when he does, he prefers wine to whiskey.

48. Drinks whiskey when nervous about something or extremely anxious.

49. Never gets drunk.

50. Doesn't tend to get mad at you easily, but gets mad when you get in the way of his work. However, he ends up giving in when he realizes that you just want his attention.

51. Will always be the first to apologize to you, even when he's right.

52. Is extremely resistant to pain. Usually takes care of himself when he comes home hurt after a mission, but will let you take care of him if you ask.

53. He is very quiet when he is tired or upset about something related to work.

54. He is extremely considerate of you.

55. Loves to take care of you whether it's because you're sick, on your period, had a bad day at work or any other reason.

56. He is not jealous.

57. Not given to public displays of affection.

58. He gets extremely shy when you kiss him around his defenders friends.

59. He is extremely selfless. Will always put your needs first.

60. He tends to be very focused on work, but sometimes he catches himself daydreaming about you which always brings a smile to his lips.

61. Is secretly afraid that you will one day get tired of his lifestyle.

62. Trust your love for him, but fear that one day you might leave him.

63. Never got over his sister's death, still blames himself for it and can't talk about it, not even to you.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tag list: @doctorstrangelovemusic-blog @rachelessfreedom-world @a-tong @ppatricia34me @strangesgirls @dreamxonxx @benaddictcumberpatch @iamsherlocked1479 @evelyn-kingsley @veryladyqueen @notglucose @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @rmoonstoner @fanartka @katehawke @nicoletk @azu21 @captaincarmel416 @harlekin6 @coffedraven @withalittlehoney

@dontmindme262 @dementeddoll @yourmajesty13 @strangeions @bloodyflowerrr @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @dragonqueen89 @newtsniffles @whiskeyho @sherlux @xourownsidee @kakashibabe02 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @lykaonimagines @d0ct0rstrangewife @classickook @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @aphroditesdilemma @sassenach-on-the-rocks

@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @singhfae

117 notes · View notes