I am a fic writer on Ao3, this is my tumblr account!!
I go by Boyfriend_Bunny on Ao3.
Pronouns: They/Them
DNI: MINORS, TERFS, RACISTS, SEXISTS, HOMOPHOBES
Hello friends, followers and freaks, and welcome to a little project I'm provisionally calling 'Roll For Smut'.
Intended to help me work on my ability to write more original shorter monster smut pieces, I'm going to be rolling prompts from three lists I made, entirely on a whim, and writing whatever the dice tell me to write.
Now, I started this because I wanted to work on my inability to write without adding in a ton of set-up, but my first attempt did not meet that goal. It is, however, 2.5k words of fantasy fuckery that I am rather proud of, so I'm sharing it anyway.
My first roll gave me the prompts:
* Centaur
* Scent
* Co-workers.
I had planned to write about 500 words or so, but getting into the scent kink meant I still had to do some set-up first. So here is 2.5k words of smutty flash-fiction, written in one sitting without edits.
Centaur/Scent/Co-workers
Roll For Smut
Centaur
Scent
Co-workers
Farm work comes with all manner of smells: some of them fresh and invigorating, some pungent and avoided as much as possible, but all of them inescapable. That includes the scent of Eurus, the field-worker who shares most of my shifts, whose unmistakable scent always seems to permeate everything else when we're in close proximity.
Today, even through the scent of fresh-mown hay, I can smell him. He doesn't bother with a shirt on hot days like these, and his upper torso gleams with the clean sweat of hard work. His lower half is glistening, too, with hints of white lather showing through the glossy brown hair on his hindquarters. When we pause for a break, he rubs a forearm over his face to keep the sweat from his eyes, his tail flicking over his haunches as if he might wipe them clean too. He must catch me staring, because he flashes me a smile that says he doesn't mind being watched.
“You should go get a drink,” I tell him, thinking that maybe one of us needs to leave before I embarrass myself. I'm about to offer to go fetch the water, when he gestures at me.
“You too. You've moved about as much as I have this morning.”
When I look down, I can't disagree. My own shirt is soaked, sticking to my chest as if I got caught in a rain shower.
“We'll both go inside,” he insists, nodding towards the barn, “maybe even take an early lunch.” He sets off before I can answer, and I stumble to keep up, my two legs no competition for his four.
Inside the barn, away from the incessant sun, it's blessedly cool, but the enclosed space only seems to amplify the farm smells. By the workstation where we usually stow our belongings, Eurus crowds in close as I pour water for the both of us, and I'm assaulted by the scent of him, clean sweat and hay and earth, until even the water seems to taste like him.
I try to retreat, sitting on a bench by the wall, but he insists on following. He throws a clean rag into my lap before dropping to his knees beside me to wipe himself down with another, quickly soaking it through with perspiration. Desperate not to be caught staring again, I try to focus on myself, wiping sweat from my face and neck, but it soon becomes clear that my shirt is completely wrecked, more uncomfortable than going without it. In the end, I have little choice but to take it off, and I spread it out over the bench in the vain hope that it might dry off at least a little before we get back to work.
When I dare look back, Eurus is trying to reach behind himself, twisting awkwardly to wipe away the white lather that's built up over his coat. But it's clearly futile; no matter how far he turns, he can't reach far enough.
“Want some help?”
I speak without thinking, not fully realising that 'help' means getting up close while he's warm and sweat-soaked. But the way he smiles when I ask makes it impossible to stop myself getting up from the bench and taking the rag he's holding out for me.
I make a coupe of passes with it over his haunches, trying to focus all my attention on sweeping away the foamy sweat from his coat, and not on the heat from his skin or the flex of his muscles as he shifts under my hand. Just as I think I can make it through this task without embarrassing myself, he turns to look at me over his shoulder.
“Actually, I've got a brush that'll do a better job than that flimsy rag.”
He points to his little pile of belongings, and I follow his directions without question. In the few seconds that I'm away from him, I try to breathe in as much of the outside air from the open door as I can, in the hopes that it will clear my head of his overwhelmingly enticing scent, but I only have a small reprieve before I'm back to my task, smoothing the stiff-bristled brush over his coat.
The white lather pools under the brush, and I pause after each few strokes to shake it away. It's a surprisingly satisfying task, and I soon settle into the rhythm of it. In different circumstances, it might simply have been a quick distraction from the day's work. But with just the two of us in the barn, both warm from the morning's exertions, and the smell of clean sweat and earth on our bodies, it feels like a precursor for something else.
With each sweep of the brush, Eurus seems to press back against my hand. I can see the twitch of his muscles under the sheen of his coat, and as I work my way around from his left side to his right, he seems to soften under my touch, relaxing deeper into the straw that covers the floor of the barn. When I dare to glance up at his face, he's watching me work, his upper shoulders relaxed but his face oddly tense.
“Is that better?” I ask as I flick away the last specks of white sweat from the brush. “I expect it, uh, it's good to have someone else do that for you?”
I try to laugh, but he doesn't do much more than nod.
“I didn't brush too hard, did I?”
Eurus doesn't answer; at least, not with words. Looking up at me, he rolls on to his side, propping up his upper torso with one elbow. Beneath his finely muscled haunches, the evidence of his enjoyment is impossible not to notice.
“Oh.” Now that I've seen it, I can't look away. I ought to, but then again, he's basically showing it to me by choice.
“Well?” Eurus looks down between his own legs, then back up at me. “Are you going to take responsibility?”
That's enough for me to tear my eyes away from the thick cock quickly filling out under his lower half, and I meet his eyes, my own mouth hanging open with shock.
“For that?” The hand that still holds the brush makes a vague gesture towards his erection. “How – what – I mean, I can't”-
Eurus just laughs at me, waving his free hand to signal that he's not entirely serious.
“Relax, I know you could never take it. As much as I might want to give it to you.” My mouth bobs closed and then open like a hooked fish; he just laughs again. “But you've got two hands. You'll figure it out.”
Some treacherous part of me is tempted to throw the brush at him, to tell him to stop being such a twit and deal with it himself so we can get back to work. But the inside of the barn is blessedly cool after a morning in the sun, and the hours I've spent surreptitiously watching the shift of his muscles under his sweat-slick skin hold a far stronger pull than the threat of embarrassment. I can smell him; the musk of his arousal already overpowers the smell of his clean sweat, heady and intoxicating.
As Eurus watches me, I drop to my knees and let go of the brush. He cants his legs just enough to give me unfettered access to the thick erection that curves against his belly, and I finally summon the courage to touch it.
My right hand splays against the base of it, where it emerges from its sheath. The flesh is hot, moreso than his sun-warmed hindquarters had been when I brushed them, and my farmworker's hand, big as it is, can't even wrap around its girth. Still, Eurus makes a sound when I touch him that tells me he enjoys the touch, and I set to 'figuring it out'.
Turning my head to watch for his reaction, I sweep my hand from root to tip, fingers brushing against the blunt head, and then back down again, and Eurus inhales sharp and fast. The look of it is so strange, so unlike my own, that it's hard to process that I'm actually stroking his cock. My own has begun to throb, pushing against my breeches, and in other circumstances I might have taken it out to join in, but alongside his it would be laughable. So I try to ignore the ache between my legs and focus on him.
My one hand is likely not much more than a tease, so I wrap both hands around his cock, finally managing to capture the whole thing in my grip. With splayed fingers, I stroke up to that oddly blunted head, then pull down to the root, as if to mimic the drag of penetration. Eurus lets me know with a satisfied moan that I am indeed figuring it out, and he rolls a little more on to his side so that the monstrous erection stands a little prouder.
Months and months of farm work have toned my muscles and my stamina such that my two-handed stroke feels more game than work, and I allow myself to indulge in the heat of his moans and the thick smell of his arousal, the knowledge that Eurus is going to come at my touch. He's right, I could never dream to take his cock inside me, but there are many other ways we could enjoy each other, away from the barn where we could be discovered at any moment, and with more time to indulge and explore. As it is, we have a few minutes at most before someone notices we are missing from the field and comes searching for us, so I focus on bringing him to his release the way I had focused on brushing away the sweat from his coat.
Still, as I sweep my hands along his length, I indulge in thoughts of what else we might do, in another time and place. How I might take my time to explore the rest of him, my hands sweeping under his belly or back to his heavy balls to find where else he is sensitive. How I might use my mouth, to see if he tastes half as good as he smells. Perhaps, in a more private place, I might even take out my own erection, forgetting our ridiculous size difference and align it against his to rub both of us, feeling his heat against mine. The thought comes, unbidden, of Eurus kneeling over me, pushing his hindquarters so that his cock rubs against my bare stomach and chest, mimicking the way he might take my if our bodies weren't so different.
His body now fully stretched out on the floor of the barn, Eurus grunts as if he is the one doing all the work. He goads me on with filthy words and delicious sounds, urging me to go quicker, harder, to get him there before someone stumbles into the barn. Almost out of spite, I raise myself up on to my knees to give myself room to move more, yanking both hands down the length of his cock as hard as I can. To make the stroke easier, I spit into my palms, and the sensation makes him groan as I pick up my pace, firing back with filth of my own.
“So needy,” I scold him, looking up over the bulk of his foreleg to catch his eye as he lolls on the ground, “so worked up just from a brush. If I'd known that was all it took, I might have offered to do it sooner. For now, I'll just enjoy seeing you remember this moment every time you clean off your own sweat, or perhaps every time you set foot in the barn. Do you think you can make it through a shift without getting hard again, Eurus? Can you keep this monster cock where it belongs and not get hard when I'm around? Or will I see you sneaking off to the barn every morning when I show up to work? I know now how randy you are, and I know you'll be itching for me to touch you at every opportunity.”
His moans are are near-constant now, almost a never-ending wail as he nears his climax, and I tug at his cock with every bit of strength I have. I feel the way he tightens up as his body prepares for its release, and I know I'll be hearing that sound every time I close my eyes. I keep stroking as he shoots, turning myself away so as not to be hit with the force of it and watching the thick white splash of his spend as it hits the ground, wave after wave of it pumped from the blunt head of his huge cock.
When I am sure that he is finally done, I take one hand away and push my breeches down just enough to get my own prick out. I watch him watching me as I stroke myself, the relief of finally getting a hand between my legs like scratching an itch that's been irritating all day. It doesn't take me long, not with the memory of his guttural moans and the sight of his softening cock and the overwhelming scent of his release filling the barn. I turn myself as my own climax hits, my own release not quite shooting as far across the floor as his did.
Once I've finally emptied my balls, I take my hand away from him, his cock beginning to slip back inside its sheath. With clumsy hands, I tuck myself away and readjust my breeches, as if there's a chance I might regain some semblance of dignity if we are discovered. When no one appears in the barn doorway, I feel myself hit with a sudden ache in my muscles, a reminder of how I've spent the past few minutes, and I realise that I am panting, drawing in great heaving breaths as if I've just ploughed an entire field by myself. I shift just enough to lay back against his solid body, cushioning my shoulders against his lower shoulders. Eurus seems to be still spent, not moving much except to reach a hand down and pat my shoulder.
“Perhaps,” I start to say, only to trail off as my breath still comes in gasps, “perhaps next time, you'll just clean yourself off.”
“Hah.” Eurus' lower torso expands beneath me as he laughs. “And miss the chance to do that again? You offered, my friend. And now I know how much you just wanted to get your hands on me, there's no way I'm going to let you forget it.”
Soon enough, we manage to get back to our feet. There is still work to be done, and the others must surely have noticed our absence by now.
“You know,” Eurus says as we kick straw over the wet spots on the floor of the barn, “they say tomorrow's going to be even hotter.”
dan really said "i can't do the bit where i act like i've never seen it and am horrified so i'm gonna talk about how the lights are giving me a new pov after 16 years of being very used to seeing phil's body and knowing it like the back of my hand and it's a lot".
My lawyer has advised me that I cannot legally prove that he's in love with his coworker, but I can draw him looking at the man and that's basically the same thing
Hey, man, c'mere. Listen. Get in real close, this is important.
You're gonna make stuff again. You're gonna make stuff you're proud of. You're gonna make stuff you're excited to share. You're going to feel that overwhelming drive to create, not just the frantic I want to want to you're stuck in now. You're going to have awesome ideas, and you're going to make them into reality. You're going to create again. You're still an artist. You're still a writer. You're still home to the same passion you had before. You'll find it again. It's not gone. It's just resting. Let it rest. You're going to make stuff again. I promise.
CHAPTER 2 OF SWISS KNIFE IS FINALLY OUT!! WOOHOO!!
read here!!
Swiss Knife (4383 words) by Boyfriend_Bunny
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (Video Blogging RPF)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Characters: Dan Howell, Phil Lester
Additional Tags: Shibari, Bondage, Rope Bondage, Crying, Crying During Sex, Subspace, Kneeling, Dom/sub, Ambiguous Relationships, Smoking, Rough Kissing, Hair-pulling, Oral Sex, Dry Humping, Collars, Leashes, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Dan Howell, Dom Phil Lester, Sub Dan Howell, Fuck AI, 2026 Era (Phandom), Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Dan Howell Is Not A YouTuber, Phil Lester Is Not A YouTuber, Trans Phil Lester, Puppy Play, Pet Play, very mild tho, Phil just calls Dan his puppy/pet, Dirty Talk, BDSM, Introspection, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Self-Esteem Issues, no ai was used in making this, no beta we die like It Takes Two, Begging, Cunnilingus, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, very
Series: Part 1 of The Swiss Knife series
Summary:
"Are you going to apologize properly?"
His darling nods, but doesn't move.
"Open your mouth" Phil commands and doesn't give Dan time to obey as he shoves two fingers into the warmth of his mouth.
He feels his puppy choke, like he always does at the start, trying to adjust to the intrusion as he tries to take Phil deeper.
A dom/sub fic that ran away from me the moment I looked away.
