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eddiesghxst · 5 months

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

Text

Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement.

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head.

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

“Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it.

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because he was terrified.

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her.

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death.

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that.

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over.

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it.

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you.

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you?

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it.

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on.

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder.

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke.

God, he loved that smile.

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong.

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white.

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months.

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?”

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one.

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart.

You missed him.

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions.

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.”

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair.

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again.

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hederasgarden · 9 days

Note

Today I’m thinking about a somehow equally nerdy navy medic with a crush on sweet Bob and Phoenix and hangman obsessed with trying to get these 2 to realise they like each other that’s all…

Hangman would be so amused, I think, and view it as his personal reality TV show. Maybe Rooster catches on because Hangman is staring awfully hard at Bob one day.

“Working on a crush there, buddy?" Rooster asks, tilting his head in Bob's direction. "It's okay, you can tell me. This is a safe space."

“Huh?" Jake asks before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "No. But someone else is," he says, drawing the other man's attention to the way you're leaning against the wall, openly staring at their WSO. You're watching him so intently that it takes you a few tries to find your straw with your tongue. It's almost endearing how inept you are.

Then the two of them end up working together to help you get the attention of a clueless Bob and oblivious Phoenix. After a few mishaps, Hangman decides a direct approach is necessary because as oblivious as his two teammates are, you’re even worse.

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Word count: 700

Rating: Gen. Humor and flirting.

Hangman first comes to you after you've finished the annual mandatory CPR training course for the pilots.

“Look,” he starts, leaning in close enough for you to get a whiff of his overpowering aftershave. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. “I get it, you’re a little inept at this whole thing but I’m here to help.”

“Okay, buddy...I think I know way more about anatomy than you do,” you tell him, packing away the CPR dummies. His friend with the mustache coughs and Hangman arches one golden eyebrow looking bemused. It takes you a few seconds to realize what you said. Before you have the chance to feel embarrassed or over explain yourself, he speaks.

"I get it," he assures you. "But I was referring to your little crush on Bob and Phoenix."

“That's not… what… you're crazy," you sputter, shaking your head. "You're way off base," you go on, internally freaking out because you'd been SO careful to play it cool and keep it on the DL. You were a consummate professional every time you interacted with Bob and Phoenix. Calm, cool, and collected. Smooth as butter.

"Uh-huh. There's no need to be shy, sweetheart. We're gonna help you get your man. And girl," he adds.

You're not sure if it's his insufferable smirk or the ridiculousness of the situation but your embarrassment fizzles out and you're left feeling more annoyed than anything else. Who did this guy think he was?

"First, Lieutenant Trace isn't a girl. She is a woman and an accomplished pilot to boot. Also, don't call me sweetheart. It's weird and creepy.” You poke him in the chest to drive home your point. "Also, you can tell Tom Selleck over there I don't need his help either."

“Woah, hey," the other man says, hands raised. "I'm just an innocent bystander here."

"What's your plan?" Hangman questions. "Stare at them some more?"

You scowl but before you can reply another voice interjects. “This guy bothering you?”

Your freeze at the familiar voice, your surprised expression mirroring Hangman’s. Phoenix’s dark brown eyes meet yours when you turn and oh god, she looks so effortlessly beautiful. You should reply with something witty and funny but it’s all you can do to stand there, slack jawed until you see Bob right behind her.

He offers you a bright smile and Phoenix touches your shoulder as she leans in to mock whisper, “Hangman’s not always the best at knowing when he’s not wanted. Like now for example.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Hangman asks.

“As entertaining as it was to watch you obsess over this whole thing, I decided the direct approach was easier for everyone involved,” the mustached man says.

“Okay, Tom. You’re good people,” you finally say.

“It’s Rooster actually and I know. Such a good person,” he says with a wink, nudging Hangman.

“Bye, Bagman,” Bob says, staring at the other man until he finally leaves with Rooster.

“Now,” Phoenix begins, fingertips dancing down your arm to capture your hand in hers. “What’s this about you having a crush on us?”

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #Bob x reader #bob floyd x you #phoenix x reader x bob #phoenix x reader #natasha trace x reader x robert floyd #Natasha trace x you #natasha trace x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Flirty Bradley, Sassy Bob, Talks of the supernatural, Mentions of drowning, An almost fight?, Possessive behavior, Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So tomorrow I leave town for a couple of days! I don't know how much I'll be able to post until Saturday or Sunday, but I'll do my best! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You awoke feeling groggy, eyes blinking against the stream of sunlight that filtered through the window. You didn’t remember drinking enough last night to feel this hungover. No, you were sure you’d only had the two whiskey cokes, not nearly enough to make you feel this way. Perhaps it was the drive catching up with you. Yeah, that had to be it.

You slowly sat up, head throbbing as you caught a glimpse of the ocean outside your window. You thought back to the silver tail you had seen disappear beneath the waves.

“What a weird dream,” you muttered, shaking your head. You moved to get up, quickly getting dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts combo before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Bob was already munching away at the plate of bacon Susan had set out, the older woman flipping over a pancake on the stove.

“Robert Floyd, you better save some bacon for everyone else,” she warned without even a glance over her shoulder at him. Bob paused mid-chew to stare wide-eyed at her back before seeing you at the doorway, a grin already on your lips.

“Yeah, Robert,” you giggled, “save some for the rest of us.”

He scowled at you as Susan turned to smile warmly at you.

“Good morning, dear!” She beamed. “How did you sleep?”

You sat down at the island next to Bob just as Susan placed a plate at the same spot.

“I had the craziest dream last night,” you hummed, stealing a piece of bacon off of Bob’s plate, earning yourself an unamused look from said man.

“Oh yeah?” Susan asked. “What about?”

“Well,” you started, chewing on your bite of bacon, “I dreamed that I woke up last night and heard a weird song.”

“What?” Bob laughed, looking over at you. You giggled, continuing.

“Yeah! And it was weird because it sounded like a weird mix between a human and a whale. And when I got up, I went to look out the window, and I saw a giant silver tail disappear into the water!”

Bob’s chewing slowed to a stop as the smile dropped from his face, and Susan stiffened by the stove. Your eyes darted between the two of them.

“Did I say something wrong?” You asked them, unsure as to what had them so tense. Bob shook his head with a reassuring smile.

“No, of course not,” he told you. Susan relaxed her shoulders and turned to you with an apologetic look.

“It seems I’ll have to have a talk with my husband about him and his stories,” she said, a look of annoyance passing over her face.

You shook your head. “Oh, it’s no worries! I’m sure I just drank too much last night. That coupled with the drive here, I’m sure it was nothing.”

Susan looked at you for a beat longer before turning back to her pancakes. Bob huffed a laugh as he took another bite of his breakfast. “Dad is so getting his ass chewed out later.”

“Hey!” Susan barked, whipping back around to point her spatula at him. “Language, mister.”

“Sorry, Mom,” he blushed, ducking his head sheepishly. You laughed at the two of them before bumping your shoulder into his.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You asked. Bob perked up at your question.

“Oh!” He chirped. “I figured we could go hang out with Mickey and Nat today. The others are going to be busy setting up for the festival, so it’ll just be the four of us.”

“Sounds great!” You smiled. “Any specific plans?”

“You should take her to see the different shops!” Susan suggested over her shoulder.

Bob rolled his eyes with a grimace. “The tourist traps?”

“Not all of them are tourist traps, Bobby,” she chided. “Besides, maybe she’ll find something she likes while you’re there. A souvenir for the summer!”

You stared at the porcelain figurine intently. It reminded you of the one sitting on your dresser back home, except this mermaid was mid-song, her red lips parted like she was crooning.

“I told you it was a tourist trap,” Bob muttered beside you. You looked up at him with a grin.

“Nah, it’s cute,” you giggled. “I love mermaids, remember?”

“I know a couple someones who will love to hear that,” Mickey muttered with a smirk, crying out when Nat elbowed him in the rib.

“What do you mean?” You ask, brow furrowing at him. Nat smiled at you, pushing past the scowling man at her side.

“Nothing,” she said. “Have you found anything you like yet?”

You hummed, glancing around the store. “No, not yet. I don’t know if I want a souvenir from a shop, anyway. I think I’d prefer collecting seashells from the beach.”

“Perhaps you’ll get lucky and catch the eye of a handsome merman,” the older shopkeeper said. Your group turned to look at her, her eyes twinkling.

“Oh, yeah?” You giggled. You faltered when you saw the others frowning at the old woman, but she continued on.

“Oh my, yes,” she smiled. “The legend goes that every year the sea people undergo what can only be described as a mating season. They seek out a partner for the summer, satiating their hunger. That’s what the festival celebrates, after all. But every five years, an individual will undergo a much more intense version, seeking out a permanent mate. It’s called the frenzy.”

“Why do they call it that?” You ask her, curiosity getting the better of you.

The old woman chuckled. “Simply put? The sea people will go crazy trying to find and stake claim to their chosen mate. The desire nearly drives them mad, turning them into the monsters the legends claim them to be.”

“What do you mean by mate?”

“Just that, dear child. During the frenzy is when a sea person picks their life partner. It’s an irreversible bond.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Nat frowned, grabbing your elbow. She shot a glare at the old woman before tugging you towards the door. “We need to get going.”

“But I still have questions!” You cried, stumbling out the door after her. The bell above the door rang as the four of you exited onto the sidewalk. All around, people were setting up for the summer long festival. Banners were being hung up over the streets and decorations lined the sidewalks, mermaids covering nearly every surface you looked at.

Nat dropped her grip from your arm, and you scowled at her.

“What was that for?” You grumbled, rubbing at your arm. “It was just getting interesting!”

“Mrs. Cambroni needs to learn when to shut her mouth,” she huffed, glaring back at the door. Bob slung an arm around your shoulder with a small smile.

“They’re just stories, anyway,” he told you, hugging you close. “Besides, you’ll have all summer to learn about the town legends. We’re here to have fun, remember?”

“I thought you said it was impossible to have fun in a small town?” You teased him, anger quickly melting as you all began making your way down the sidewalk. He rolled his eyes playfully at you.

“I did not say that.”

“You definitely implied it.”

“Alright,” he grinned. “You got me there.”

“Do you guys wanna go get ice cream?” Mickey asked, looking over his shoulder from where he walked next to Nat.

You perked up. “Ice cream sounds amazing!”

After securing your double scoop of rocky road, you followed the others back down the street as they argued over what to do next.

“But they have some really good movies out!” Mickey exclaimed, and Nat rolled her eyes at him.

“There are way better things we could do than go see a damn movie,” she snarked.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“We could take one of the boats out?” Bob suggested.

Nat smiled as Mickey scowled.

“And do what?” The other man huffed.

“Obviously, we would be swimming,” Nat shot back at him. You giggled as the three continued to argue amongst themselves.

“Hey! If it isn’t the three stooges plus y/n!”

All four of you looked up to see Bradley leaning off a ladder holding a banner in his hands. He was grinning widely, shirt nowhere to be seen. Below him, holding the ladder, was the blond man, Jake, from the bar the night before. He was also shirtless, and his green eyes were already on you, and you felt your cheeks heat up. You prayed none of your ice cream had made a home on your face. Javy and Reuben came walking out of the nearest building carrying another banner and also missing their shirts.

“Hey meatheads,” Nat huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Where are your shirts?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Bradley drawled, rolling his eyes back at her, “It’s like a billion degrees out here. A man’s gotta keep cool, ain’t that right, sunshine?”

You giggled as he shot a wink at you, and you noticed as Jake clenched his jaw at the exchange. Bradley hopped off the ladder and strolled over towards the rest of you with the blond right behind him, eyes still trained on you.

“What do you guys have planned for the rest of the day?” Reuben asked. Nat swung an arm around your shoulder.

“We’re gonna teach Skipper here how to drive a boat,” she grinned.

“Skipper?” You questioned, raising your eyebrow. She nodded excitedly, and Bradley hummed, looking at you thoughtfully.

“I like it,” he decided with a nod. “It suits you.”

“Whatever that means,” you mumbled. Mickey put his hands on his hips as he glared at the brunette beside you.

“I thought we were going swimming?” He demanded.

Nat dropped her arm from around your shoulder, crossing her arms in front of her. “We are, but we’re going to teach Skipper how to captain a boat first. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to go?”

You watched as the two began to bicker amongst themselves again. If you hadn’t known any better, you would think the two hated each other. Bob walked off to help Reuben, Bradley, and Javy hang up the other banner a little ways down the street. You felt someone step up beside you, and you turned to see Jake still looking down at you.

“Hi,” he said softly, smirking. “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Jake.”

You smiled up at him shyly. “I’m y/n, but I guess it’s Skipper now.”

He let out a chuckle as he leaned in closer to you. You felt your heartbeat quicken, and the way his smirk grew wider made you think that maybe he could hear it. You shook off the thought, putting all of your effort into maintaining some semblance of rationale.

“You know,” he hummed, eyes studying you, “Bradley isn’t right about a lot of things, but he is right about that.”

“What?” You breathed, eyes becoming hooded. You could have sworn you saw the glow in his eyes again as they bore into yours. Your head began to feel lighter the longer you stared at him, a yearning tugging you towards him. His breath fanned over you as he leaned in closer.

“Skipper!”

You jumped, taking a stumbling step back, nearly falling as someone caught you. You thought you heard a growl as your head began to throb. You looked up to see that it was Bob who had his arms around you, keeping you steady. His eyes were trained in a glare past where you stood, and you turned to see Bradley and Javy on either side of Jake. If looks could kill, Bob would be six feet under already. Jake’s jaw was clenched so tight, you wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth were cracked. Green eyes stared intently at Bob, whose gaze didn’t waver from his friends.

“Bob?” You questioned, the bespectacled man looking down at you. “What happened?”

“Uh,” he started, seeming to be unsure as to how to respond.

“Bob bumped into you on accident, and you almost fell,” Natasha smiled, stepping forward to take you out of Bob’s arms. You saw Jake relax a little out of the corner of your eye, but your head was still too fuzzy to pay it much mind.

“Why is everyone so angry?” You asked her, your voice sounding weak and uncertain even to you. She smiled gently down at you as she sat you down on the steps by the sidewalk.

“It’s just a combination of the heat and good old-fashioned testosterone,” she explained, patting your back soothingly. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“My head,” you trailed off, rubbing at your temples.

“Here,” Reuben smiled at you, offering you a bottle of water. You took it with a grateful smile, taking small sips from the bottle.

“Feeling better?” Mickey asked you, brows pinched in worry. You smiled and gave him a nod.

“Much,” you said, looking around at the group who looked back at you worriedly.

You sighed. “I’m sorry, everyone.”

“What on earth for?” Asked Javy.

Grimacing, you responded, “For making everyone worry about me.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Skipper,” Bradley assured you, smiling at you reassuringly. “The heat gets to the best of us. Isn’t that right, Jake?”

Bradley clapped the blond on the shoulder, giving him a pointed look. Jake frowned, letting out a muttered “yeah” as he looked away.

“Do you wanna call it a day?” Mickey asked you, and you shook your head.

“I’d still like to go swimming if that’s okay.”

“You sure?” Bob asked you, eyes still full of worry. You smiled back at him with a nod.

“Absolutely!”

“You should be careful,” Jake spoke up, and you turned to look at him. The anger was still in his eyes, but it had calmed significantly. An unreadable expression now graced his face. “A storm is coming.”

“How do you know?” You asked him, brow furrowing.

“He’s right,” Javy said as Reuben and Bradley nodded. “A storm is on the way.”

“We’ll be extra careful,” Nat promised them, helping you to your feet. “Scout’s honor!”

Bradley chuckled at her mock salute before shooting you another wink. “Maybe we’ll catch up with you guys later?”

“If not tonight, then we’ll see you at the bonfire tomorrow!” Mickey hollered as you, Nat, and Bob followed him down the sidewalk towards the docks.

“Don’t have too much fun without us!” Reuben called after you all.

“We’ll hold off on teaching Skipper how to drive the boat until you guys can join us!” Nat yelled back.

“Wait, you were serious about that?” You squawked, earning a chorus of laughter from your group.

A couple of hours later, you found yourself sitting on Mickey’s parent’s boat, the rock of the waves sending a wave of nerves up your spine as they became rougher. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to being on a boat. The sun had long been obscured by the grey clouds that seemed to have rolled in out of nowhere, but the others didn’t seem shocked by the sudden turn.

“How did they know it was going to storm?” You asked them, watching as darker clouds began to roll in.

“When you live by the ocean your whole life, you just get a sense for those types of things,” Nat told you as Mickey and Bob scrambled to get the boat ready to leave. You eyed the clouds wearily as Mickey cursed behind you.

“They’re never going to let us hear the end of it if they find out we stayed out this long,” he muttered.

Nat rolled her eyes. “So hurry up and get us back to shore before they do.”

Mickey scowled at her but continued with what he was doing. A couple of minutes later, and the waves were rocking the boat almost violently, and you found yourself gripping your seat anxiously.

“Alright, we’re ready!” Bob called from the side. Mickey started up the boat’s engine, and the vessel jerked as he began to maneuver it back to land. You hit a particularly rough wave, causing Nat to lose her balance and topple into the seats opposite yours.

“Easy, Mickey!” She snapped, glaring at the man.

“I’m taking her as easy as I can!” He hollered back at her, a look of worry flashing across his face as the boat dipped into the waves. A gush of water hit you, and your arms flew up to shield your face. At that same moment, another wave knocked into the boat, causing you to fly over the side as you jerked back from the wall of water to your front.

“Y/n!” You heard someone shout, Bob maybe, but it was too late.

The water swallowed you whole, gripping you in its clutches as you scrambled to get your bearings. The water was dark, and you began to panic as you realized you couldn’t tell which was up and which way was down. Your arms thrashed around you as you fought for air, but it was no use. Your lungs ached and burned from lack of oxygen, and you felt a sense of dread as you realized that you were about to die. You stopped fighting, feeling a sense of acceptance at your fate. Your vision began to darken as you let your mind drift off. You hoped your parents wouldn’t mourn you for too long and hoped desperately that your friends wouldn’t blame themselves.

You were just about to enter unconsciousness when you heard an eerily familiar song. The sound of a human and a whale mixed together pulled at you, getting closer with each passing second. It was strange what the mind came up with to calm itself in its last moments. You felt a pair of strong, muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you up, your bare legs brushing against what felt like scales. Of course your mind would turn to mermaids in the end. Maybe you’d be reborn as one in your next life. You hoped as much, at the very least.

Your head broke the surface, rain pelting your face as small waves of water rushed up to you.

“C’mon, darlin’,” a voice called to you from far off, “stay with me.”

You felt the water rush up out of your lungs as you hacked and coughed, clutching weakly at whoever held you. You groaned, head falling forward, resting on a solid chest. The arms around you gripped you tighter, and you heard the song again, this time sounding much more desperate and sorrowful than last time. It was the last thing you heard before you fell unconscious.

You weren’t sure how long you were out for, but you felt the last few rays of the sun wash over you as you came to. You were vaguely aware of the solid rock underneath you and the gentle fingertips that grazed your forehead. You heard short bursts of the song, this time coming from the person hovering over you. It put you at ease, but you so desperately wanted to see who the song belonged to.

You slowly tried to pry your eyes open, head protesting as it gave a particularly sharp throb. You winced, and the man above you cooed at you. You managed to open your eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of the glowing green that stared down at you, entrancing you.

“Sleep,” the man sang, and you obediently let your eyes fall closed. The man’s fingertips ran down the side of your face and to your neck. He turned your head to expose more of your neck, lips brushing over the base where it met your shoulder. You let out a whimper at the pleasant feeling, and the man hushed you softly. You were surprised at how good it felt, and you found yourself arching up into his touch.

The man continued to nuzzle at you, and you heard the vague sound of your name coming from off in the distance. You whined for the man, silently begging for more of his touch, and you felt him smirk against you.

“Skipper!”

The voices were louder now, and you heard the man let out an inhuman snarl. You cried out in pain as you felt a prick of what you assumed were teeth pierce your skin. The pain was quickly dulled by the feel of a tongue laving over the small wound. The man pulled away from you, and you reached for him weakly, opening your eyes just enough to see the flash of silver scales disappear back into the sea.

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fatecantstopme · 2 years

Text

Just You Wait

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus size!Reader

Summary: Big girl, giant man, perfect pair.

Warnings: RPF. An insane amount of smut: Size kink, praise kink, dom/sub vibes, Oral (M/F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), face sitting, orgasm denial, light choking, spanking. Use of pet names (darling, baby, love). Cursing.

A/N: My first RPF and I feel kinda weird about it, but this man has been living in my brain rent-free for days and I couldn't help myself.

When you first met Henry Cavill, you almost had a heart attack. The man was even more deliciously gorgeous in person than you could have ever imagined. You felt like you had absolutely no right to even be looking at this man, let alone meeting him. It was pretty much the luckiest day of your life, all thanks to your childhood best friend, Chris Evans. Chris was a couple years older than you, but you were born and raised in the same town, family friends since before you were even born.

On this particular evening, Chris had dragged you along with him to an A-list holiday party, insisting that he didn’t want to go alone. You weren’t exactly a party person, but you’d just moved to LA and didn’t really know anyone. So when Chris begged you to come with him, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe you’d even meet a couple people, make some friends and whatnot. You did not, however, expect to meet the single most beautiful man on planet earth. A man that you’d had a crush on from the very first time you saw him on the TV show The Tudors.

Chris knew you had a massive crush on Henry, and if his expression was anything to go by, he also knew that Henry would be at this party.

“Christopher Robert Evans, if you did this on purpose, I swear to god—” you started.

“Do what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Just as you were about to verbally assault him, you heard a delicious English accent from directly behind you.

“Hey, Evans, good to see you again.”

You turned around and found yourself face-to-face with Henry Freaking Cavill. You stared at him like a guppy fish, mouth opening and closing, no words coming out.

Chris pulled the larger man into a bro hug. “Always good to see you, man.” He turned to you, clearly intent on introducing you. “This is my best friend, (Y/N). She just moved to LA.”

Henry looked you up and down, eyes moving salaciously slowly. You silently begged the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Unfortunately for you, the floor remained completely solid.

Henry offered you a warm smile and extended his hand to take yours. When you placed your own hand in his, instead of shaking it, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to it.

You almost died right then and there. If it weren’t for Chris, you probably would have just stood there in awkward silence for the rest of time. Chris elbowed you in the side and you yelped in surprise. He gave you a look and you immediately cleared your throat.

“Sorry, um—hi.” You literally couldn’t have sounded more like an idiot if you tried.

To your surprise, Henry just smiled at you. He seemed almost…intrigued, by your awkwardness. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

You nodded and Chris cleared his throat again. “I swear I’m not normally this awkward,” you mumbled.

Chris and Henry both laughed. “I can confirm that. She’s actually usually the life of the party.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, I think you’re positively charming,” Henry replied.

You nearly choked on your own saliva. The mere idea that Henry could have found you charming was actually laughable.

Chris slid his arm around you and gave your shoulders a squeeze. “She’s the most charming person I know.”

You recognized the teasing tone in Chris’s voice, but Henry clearly didn’t know him as well as you did. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “Are you two, a—uh—couple?”

You laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. “Dear god, no,” you managed between fits of laughter.

Chris was laughing too, but he smacked you on the arm when you didn’t stop laughing. “Laughing hard enough there, (Y/N/N)? I’m not that terrible, ya know.”

“Oh you know that’s not what I meant, it’s just…I know you waaaay too well to ever date you.”

Chris grinned ear to ear. “You know me too well, period.”

Henry looked back and forth between the two of you before shaking his head with a chuckle. “I can see why you like her, Evans, even if it’s only in a friendly way.”

“Strictly platonic,” Chris said. “She’s completely available!”

“Christopher!” you hissed in embarrassment.

“What? It’s true,” he insisted with a shrug.

You groaned under your breath, but your mood changed instantly when Henry said gently, “I’m also completely available.”

“How is that even physically possible?” you asked before your better judgment could stop you.

Henry grinned teasingly. “Whatever do you mean?”

Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. “I—umm—well…have you seen a mirror lately?” you squeaked out.

Chris was desperately trying to control his laughter, his face twitching slightly as the mask began to slip.

Henry simply smirked. “Are you saying I’m attractive?” he teased.

You figured you couldn’t get any more awkward, so you might as well go all in. “Easily the sexiest man alive.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Chris interjected. “Pretty sure that’s my title.”

“This year,” you teased. “Perhaps Henry will win it next year.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I just want it to be very clear that I held it first.”

His tone was light and joking, and it made you laugh. Henry’s eyes were watching you, the beautiful blue orbs incredibly intense.

“It’s much more of a compliment coming from you than any sort of public voting poll,” Henry said warmly, a teasing tone in his voice.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Technically, I’ve personally voted you sexiest man in the universe at least twice.”

Henry laughed loudly, the sound warm and sweet. “Now that’s a title I can get behind.”

“You can get behind me,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Sorry, love, what was that?” Henry asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear what you said, hell you hadn’t really intended to say it out loud at all. “Um—I—uh.”

Henry leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered in your ear, low enough that only you could hear him. “I would be more than happy to, darling. If that’s something you really want.”

He pulled back from you, giving you a wink. You stood there, rooted to the spot, jaw practically on the floor.

Chris seemed to sense the change in the mood and slowly backed away. “I’m gonna go do something, uh, somewhere else.” He disappeared into the crowd of people filling the room.

Your heart was beating so loudly that you were pretty sure Henry could hear it. Your breathing was shallow and rapid and you could feel heat pooling in your lower body.

“So? Is that something you want?” Henry asked you again, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

You nodded your head rapidly, not trusting your voice in the moment.

Henry leaned forward, large body towering over you. “I need to hear you say it, beautiful.”

“Yes, please,” you whispered.

He smiled warmly and took your hand. “Come with me.”

You followed along behind Henry, unsure of where exactly this was heading. He guided you up the stairs of the beautiful mansion, escorting you quickly to the nearest empty bedroom. The moment you were inside, he shut the door and locked it. You could still hear the music playing downstairs, but you were completely and utterly alone with the man you’d fantasized about for years.

“I have to know, (Y/N), how long have you wanted me?”

You gulped, feeling so incredibly small under his intense gaze. “Years,” you whispered honestly.

Henry groaned audibly. “I wish Chris had introduced us sooner. You’re gorgeous and I’m quite certain you’ll taste delicious.” He took a step towards you, eyes filled with desire.

“Really?” you whimpered softly.

“Oh sweet girl, I wanted you the moment I saw you. I said hi to Chris in hopes that he would introduce me to you.”

Surprise lit up your pretty face. You’d been a bigger girl most of your life, puberty slamming into you like a fucking freight train. You had large breasts, a round butt, wide hips, thick thighs, and a soft belly. Henry was the polar-opposite in every possible way. His entire body was covered in muscles, strong and sturdy. You were much shorter than him, and despite your curvy body, he was so much larger than you. The mere size difference between the two of you made you wet. Desire pooled in your belly and you found yourself wanting to be used by this man in every possible way.

You licked your lips and looked up at him, trying to determine exactly what type of man he would be in the bedroom. You knew exactly what you liked and you silently prayed that he would oblige you. “What do you want me to do, sir?” you asked in your most submissive voice.

“Fuuuuck,” Henry groaned. His body immediately responds to you, cock hardening in his already tight pants. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You move to stand directly in front of him and he grabbed your hips to pull you flush against his body before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started gentle enough, but quickly turned into a deeper, more passionate one. You could feel Henry’s hard length against your abdomen, and his hands tangled into your hair, tugging lightly. You moaned against his lips, unintentionally inviting his tongue to enter your mouth.

His tongue immediately asserted dominance over yours, everything about him deliciously predatory. Even the way he held your body against his reminded you that you were completely at his mercy. There was no place you’d rather be.

When Henry finally allowed you to pull away to breathe, you gulped air down as quickly as possible, desperate to feel his lips against yours again.

“Can you take your clothes off for me, darling?” he asked softly.

You nodded your head, but your self-consciousness about your body started to rear its ugly head. You started to take off your pants, feeling less uncomfortable with him seeing your lower body than your torso.

Henry watched your movements hungrily. He was desperate to touch every single inch of your body, but he knew he needed to be patient. He was enjoying watching you strip too much to stop you.

When your pants were lying on the floor of the room, you started to remove your shirt, but stopped just before lifting it to reveal your stomach. You took a deep breath before quickly removing the shirt completely. Your arms immediately moved to cover your stomach, as if on instinct.

Henry was trying to appreciate your beautiful form and was annoyed when you put your arms in the way, hiding yourself. He was about to correct you when he looked at your face and realized the truth.

He took a step towards you and laid a large hand on your arm. “Don’t hide yourself darling. I want to see every single inch of you.”

You swallowed thickly, but allowed him to peel your arms away from your body, giving him a full view of your scantily clad form.

He groaned softly, eyes raking over your body. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“Now, how about you let me take off that pretty bra?”

“Please,” you whispered.

The moment he got a full view of your breasts, he inhaled sharply. Normally, he would have asked first, or at least taken his time with you, but he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

Henry seemed to realize that he might have moved too quickly and immediately removed his lips from your breast. “Sorry, darling. I should have asked first.”

“It’s quite fine,” you murmured. “You’re in charge, sir.”

The use of the title made his body shiver involuntarily. “That’s my good girl.”

You gasped and pressed your hips against him, the praise clearly going straight to your core.

Henry obviously noticed too. “You like that don’t you? When I tell you you’re a good girl?”

You nodded quickly.

“Darling,” he said in a warning tone.

“Yes, sir,” you said hastily.

“Much better.” His lips attached to your breasts again, hands sliding up your body to assist his mouth in pleasuring you. He took his time, enjoying the sweet little sounds you were making.

Your moans turned into soft whimpers of desire. You needed more, desperate to feel his touch on every part of you.

Henry seemed to sense your need and he lifted his mouth off of you. “You need more, baby?” he asked softly.

“Please, sir. I need you.”

“Well how could I deny such a sweet request?” Henry took a step away from you and directed you to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Watch me,” he said firmly as he began to remove his clothes.

Each movement was painfully slow and you wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him so badly that you almost jumped out of your own skin. Henry knew exactly what he was doing to you and damnit if it didn’t turn you on even more.

When Henry unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his body, you nearly passed out. “Holy shit,” you murmured.

He grinned, practically preening under your appreciative gaze. He removed his pants much more quickly than he had his shirt, his own desperation controlling his actions. He tugged his boxer briefs down, his massive cock standing tall, begging for attention.

If you thought he looked good before, there weren’t even words for how incredible he looked completely naked like this. Every inch of his body was hard and chiseled, and you felt an intense desire to touch him.

Without a single thought, you dropped to your knees in front of him, mouth mere inches from his hard length. You looked up at him, eyes begging him for permission.

He looked down at you with a dark expression. “Open your mouth for me, love.”

You immediately did as he asked, mouth parting for him, tongue ready to taste him.

He slipped the head of his cock between your lips with a groan. “Can I fuck your pretty little mouth, darling?”

You pulled back slightly. “Henry, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Stop asking me for permission, you already have it.”

He raised his eyebrows, a small smirk playing on his lips. “As you wish.”

The moment the words left his lips, he was grabbing your hair and thrusting his cock into your mouth so deeply you gagged. You dug your nails into his thighs and pulled him even closer, letting him know you liked it.

Henry let go of any sort of inhibition he may have had and began fucking your mouth relentlessly. Every single thrust hit the back of your throat, and within seconds you were a drooling, whimpering mess.

“Fuck, baby, feels so good. Doing so well for me.”

You moaned as loudly as you could, the vibrations reverberating through his cock.

“Shit,” he groaned as his thrusts became more frantic. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You tightened your throat around his cock and his hips bucked as he came in your mouth, seed spilling down your throat. He pulled out and pulled you up off the floor, gently cleaning your face, wiping the saliva and tears from it. “Loose the panties, sweetheart,” he said softly before climbing on the bed.

You did as he asked before climbing onto the bed with him. He beckoned you closer, pulling you up to straddle his chest the moment your body was within reach.

“Sir?” you asked in confusion.

“Come up here, baby. Wanna taste you.”

There is absolutely no way that he meant what you think he meant…you were much too big for that.

As if he read your mind, he dug his large fingers into the flesh of your hips. “Get up here, now.” His voice and expression practically dripped with dominance and it was extremely hard for you to resist him.

“But—I, um—I don’t wanna hurt you,” you mumbled.

Henry sat up slightly, large hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look directly at him. “I could pick you up and toss you around if I felt like it, baby. You’re not going to hurt me or smother me or whatever other nonsense you’re thinking.”

Your eyes widened, pussy clenching at the mere thought of him tossing you around like a ragdoll.

Henry seemed to notice and he shot you a little grin. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna talk about that later, but right now, I want to eat that little pussy until you can’t breathe.”

You couldn’t deny that it sounded incredible, so you started to crawl up his body until your pussy hovered directly over his mouth. Henry dug his fingers into your thighs, pulling you down against his mouth, holding you tightly.

His tongue darted out to taste you and he moaned loudly. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned into you. He started to lick and suck at your pussy, skills clearly evident.

You cried out loudly as he ate you with abandon. You started to ride his face slowly without even realizing it. The moment your hips started to move, Henry gripped them and started to guide you gently, helping you reach your high more quickly.

“Oh god, please,” you whimpered. Your legs were already shaking and you could feel your impending orgasm ready to rip through you. “Please, I—I’m so close.”

Henry loved the sound of you begging for him. He couldn’t speak without stopping what he was doing, so instead he moaned against your core as his tongue assaulted your clit.

The vibrations from his moan mixed with his current actions, quickly pushed you straight over the edge. In the heat of the intensity of your orgasm, you cried out his name.

Henry helped you through your high before gently lifting you off his face and onto the bed beside him. The fact that he did so with almost no effort was a massive turn-on.

Henry immediately rolled on top of you, hovering over your body, arms caging you in place. “You tasted even better than I imagined,” he whispered into your skin as he kissed your neck.

You sighed softly, loving the way his lips felt against your skin.

“But you made a big mistake, darling.” His voice was dark and he bit your shoulder gently.

“I—I did?”

“What did you call me when you came, baby?”

You quickly realized your mistake and hastily apologized. “I’m so sorry, sir. I—I didn’t mean to. I was just—you were so good—and I—”

His teeth nipped at your pulse point, effectively silencing your stuttered apology. “I know you’re sorry, love, but unfortunately your bad behavior must be punished.”

Your body immediately responds to the threat of punishment, fluid dripping from your core as a shudder raked through your body. Neither of which went unnoticed by Henry. He grinned devilishly, knowing you were so wanting and willing.

Henry’s cock was hard again and pressing against your core. You whimpered slightly and he looked at your face. Seeing worry in your eyes, Henry’s expression softened. “I’ll go slow, darling.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Hey,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, okay?”

You nodded again. “I just haven’t—umm—haven’t had anyone that big before.”

Henry smirked, eyes filling with lust. “Yeah? Never had a big thick cock in your sweet little pussy before?”

Your eyes widened, clearly enjoying the dirty talk. “No, sir.”

He groaned, the head of his cock pressing between your folds. You gasped as he slowly began to enter you. The intensity of the stretch was almost unbearable. Henry paid close attention to your face as he continued to push into you, making sure you weren’t in too much pain. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent some pain, but he would be damned if he hurt you more than was necessary. “You with me, pretty girl?”

“Ye—yes, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” He pushed even farther into you, almost bottoming out. “You’re taking me so well. Just a little more.”

You clung to Henry’s shoulders as he fully sheathed himself inside of you, going still to allow you time to adjust. You had never in all your life felt so incredible and the man hadn’t even moved yet. Your pussy was stretched deliciously and so full of him, and you loved it.

“Hen—sir, please move, please.”

Henry decided to ignore your near-mistake since you corrected it so quickly. Instead, he obliged your request, hips almost immediately setting a brutal pace.

“Oh—god—” you moaned loudly, words barely able to form in your mouth.

“Fuck, darling, this pussy is so tight. Made for me,” Henry groaned out as he fucked you harshly.

You could already feel an orgasm building within you and Henry seemed to notice it almost immediately.

“You’re close aren’t you, baby?” he grunted.

You nodded rapidly.

“Don’t cum until I give you permission. Understand?”

You looked upset, but nodded again.

Henry grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you to look at him. “Words, love.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good girl.” Henry’s agile fingers quickly found your clit and began to gently rub it in exactly the way you liked as if he’d fucked you 100 times before.

Your moans only increased in volume and number, signaling Henry that you were incredibly close. “Do you wanna cum, darling?”

“Yes sir—please,” you begged.

The moment the words left your mouth, Henry’s hands left your body and his hips slowed to shallow thrusts.

“No—no, please, sir. Don’t stop.”

“Sorry, love. This is part of your punishment,” he murmured as he placed gentle kisses to your neck and face.

Your orgasm quickly faded and Henry picked up his movements again. This went on for what felt like an eternity, at least 5 orgasms were denied by Henry, and by this point you were a sobbing mess beneath the behemoth of a man.

“Please, sir—please, I can’t—I need to cum,” you sobbed, actual tears sliding down your cheeks.

As much as Henry was enjoying denying you, he desperately wanted to feel you cum around his cock. “Yeah, baby? You need it?”

“Please,” you begged desperately.

Henry’s hand wrapped around your throat and gave it a very gentle squeeze as he fucked into you. You mewled desperately, clinging to him tightly.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he murmured.

The orgasm that hit you was the most incredible, intense orgasm of your life. You cried out, but no coherent words left your lips. Your body shook beneath the massive man, and he released your neck, shifting his weight to chase his own high.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”

“Please sir. I wanna feel you cum in me.”

“Fuck,” he gasped as he pumped into you, moans breaking through his dominant façade as his seed spilled into you. He worked himself through his orgasm before pulling out of you and collapsing beside you.

“Give me five minutes, darling, and I’ll finish your punishment.”

Your head whipped to face him so quickly, he was surprised you didn’t have whiplash. “More?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh yes. You just wait, pretty girl.”

“Can we make it ten minutes?”

He chuckled. “Only because you’re so difficult to say no to.”

You were incredibly thankful for those ten minutes, but they passed way too quickly. Before too long, Henry was back on top of you, lips hungrily pressed against yours.

“Roll over for me, darling.”

You did as you were asked, now laying against the bed, face pressed into the comforter, ass in the air.

Henry was directly behind you, admiring the view. His hands gently rubbed your ass, appreciating the supple skin. “Now this ass is the best I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.

Before you could reply, you felt a sharp stinging pain on your ass cheek. You gasped at the sensation, head whipping around to look at Henry. He was smirking back at you, his entire body oozing the dominance you so desperately craved.

“Count,” he demanded.

“One,” you gasped out as he hit you again. Slap after slap after slap, all of which were soothed by him immediately after. “Fifteen,” you said breathlessly.

Henry stopped, placing a gentle kiss to the reddened skin. “Such a good girl for me.”

You whimpered, pussy dripping with the anticipation of what was to come.

Henry lined himself up at your entrance, cock sliding back and forth along your folds to collect the juices there. Without warning, he fully sheathed himself in your tight pussy, your moans mixing with his soft curses. He once again set a relentlessly brutal pace.

“Sir,” you gasped, the feeling so overwhelming that you couldn’t even begin to formulate any other thoughts. All you could do was moan in pleasure.

“Shit, baby, so good for me,” he gasped. “I want you to cum all over my cock.”

You whimpered, orgasm already building within you.

“Don’t you worry, baby, I’m gonna mark you forever. You’re mine,” he growled.

The authority with which he said it had you clenching desperately around him. You wanted to be his, to be marked by him forever.

Henry’s hand slid up your back, gripping your neck to pull you back against his chest. He held you tightly against him, hips never faltering. One hand wrapped around the base of your neck and the other slid down to rub your clit, the combination of all three actions and his breathy moans in your ear had you begging for release.

“Please, sir—let me cum.”

“I’m gonna fill that sweet little pussy up, baby. You’ll never get rid of the feeling of me inside you,” he groaned in your ear. “Tell me you’re mine, baby. Wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m—I’m yours,” you gasped out.

“Fuck.” His movements became desperate and you could tell he was close to cumming. His hand tightened on your neck and you gasped in pleasure. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered.

Your orgasm slammed into you with even more intensity than the previous one. You cried out, moans mixing with Henry’s name. Your orgasm triggered his and he barked out your name as he spilled inside of you.

After a few moments, Henry pulled out and laid you down gently on the bed before stumbling to the bathroom to grab a wet towel. He came back to the bed and very gently cleaned you up. Each touch against your pussy made you gasp, your over-stimulated body shaking beneath his gentle touch.

“I’ve got you, darling. I’m here,” he whispered.

Henry tossed the towel onto the floor and began to get dressed. Once he had his clothes on, he started to help you back into yours, but he slipped your panties into his pocket, refusing to give them back to you.

“Give me those!” you demanded with a laugh.

“Absolutely not. These are mine now.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “So, um—I’m not sure I can walk.”

Henry grinned impishly. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you to the car.”

“Car?” you asked in confusion.

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you really think I’d just let you leave with Evans after this?”

“I—uh, yeah. I mean, I guess I didn’t think about it.”

Henry leaned over you, lips inches from yours. “I told you were mine, (Y/N). I wasn’t kidding.”

Your eyes widened. You’d just assumed that was a heat-of-the-moment sex thing.

“Unless you don’t want that,” Henry said softly, backtracking a little, fearing he’d gone too far.

“No!” you said quickly. “I mean, I want that. Definitely. You, uh—you kinda ruined me for all other men.”

He grinned and puffed out his chest proudly. “It only gets better from here, love.”

“Oh really?” you teased.

He kissed you passionately before pulling away. “Just you wait.”

#Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x reader smut #Henry Cavill x plus!size reader smut #Henry Cavill smut #Henry Cavill x plus!size reader

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mattitties · 6 months

Note

https://www.bostonmagazine.com/news/2022/09/06/sturniolo-triplets/

“They are polite and engaged but also couldn’t care less, and their manager doesn’t seem particularly interested in the story, either. I was only allowed to spend one day with them, and I won’t have the chance for any follow-ups. I’m also not allowed to talk to their parents or brother (as they, I am told, are not “media trained”), and I won’t get any help connecting with their friends in Somerville. Later, they and their management team will ignore repeated requests by the magazine for a photo shoot with a professional photographer who worked with actor Robert Pattinson and singer Lil Nas X.”

“I remember that day when Madi comes to me and goes, ‘Mom, you have to help them, look.’ And so I look, and everyone had, like, all these university [logos next to their pictures], and they had the YouTube logo,” she says. “And Madi goes, ‘They’re doing really well. We need to pick them up and we need to help them.’” Before the triplets, Filipowicz’s experience as a manager was limited to Madi, who began making videos for YouTube when she was 11, and a few other kid-creators, some of whom she dropped as soon as she landed the Sturniolos.

FUCK LMFAOOOO

that was a wild read. granted it was from last year still decently early in their career but you would think laura and the triplets would want as much coverage on them as possible to grow their careers? weird that they declined so many requests for things

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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princessofmarvel · 1 year

Text

Wonderland

summary | renfield sees a woman that catches his eye and knows that he shouldn’t speak to her, but he finds that he just can’t help himself.

pairing | robert montague renfield x fem!reader

wc | 1.2k

warnings! | none! maybe some cursing and not really proof read but it’s just fluff lol

genre | fluff!

author's note! | I saw renfield on sunday and just knew that I needed to write for him lol, especially since there are only a few fics on here about him, most of them are written by the amazing @youlightmeupfinn so definitely go check those out! this is a part of my “swift series” (where I write fics based on taylor swift songs) so if you have any requests for the swift series (or for just something that you would like for me to write) please send them in! I would be happy to write about them! and as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, but I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. and let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Renfield was taking a stroll down the streets of New Orleans, he tells himself that it is to relax and to clear his head but in reality he was trying to figure out what to bring his master to eat that night. He didn’t want to bring him anyone innocent like he so desperately wanted, that's why he joined the support group in the first place, to bring those people's monsters to him. To bring people that he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for. But, his boss didn’t like the taste of those people too much.

He spotted a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore a few paces down and decided to slip in to sit and think about this. That was when he spotted her. Someone he knew his master would actually praise him for bringing back to the lair. She was the most stunning beauty he had ever seen. Sat in the back corner with a latte and what appeared to be a new romance novel that she was on the last few pages of. She was perfect.

Renfield ordered some tea and took a seat not too far from her, but not so close that he would seem weird. He knew he couldn’t bring her to him. No matter how much his master would appreciate it. No matter how much praise he would get for doing such a good job, he just couldn’t do it, it couldn’t, wouldn’t be her.

He wanted to speak to her, he knew he shouldn’t though. He knew that he should never involve someone like her in his life. But, he also knew that if he had the chance to, that he would regret for the rest of his life if he didn’t

The girl then got up and moved towards the bookshelf. He watched her as she spotted something on the very top shelf that she wanted. He watched as she frowned to herself and huffed and she tried to reach for it but couldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t do this, that this one simple and kind gesture would end up leading him down a rabbit hole, but his feet thought for him as he stood up and made his way to the bookshelf and reached up and grabbed the book she wanted and handed it to her.

“Thank you so much! I wish these things weren’t so tall.” She said as she looked up at him. Her voice just added to her appeal, it was soft and you could tell she was kind just from the sound of it.

“I agree, It’s like the person who invented them just wanted a cruel laugh.” He said before he could stop himself.

“Yes! Exactly! Oh I’m (Y/n) by the way.” She said as she put her hand out to him, his body taking over his mind and shaking it.

“Robert Montague Renfield” He said as he shook her soft hand.

“That’s a nice name, sounds fancy.” She said which earned a chuckle from him. “I noticed you’re alone, would you like some company Robert?” She asked. He could tell she was nervous to ask, but seemed like she wasn’t asking out of pity, but out of genuine interest in talking to him. He found himself saying yes and following her back to her table in the corner.

The two spoke for hours, she asked about where he was from, which led to him talking about how hard it is to find good tea in america. He asked about the new book she had picked up, which was ‘Alice in wonderland’, which led to her talking about her love for the 1951 animated movie (He made a mental note to watch it later). They just laughed and talked for hours. Then the conversation led to work. He found himself telling her about having a narcissistic boss that worked him to the bone. And, it never seemed like he really Appreciated it. Then he accidentally let it slip that his boss made him feel like he was undeserving of happiness. He regretted it immediately because he saw how sad it made the girl look.

“Oh Robert, that's just not true. Everyone is deserving of happiness.” She held up her hand to keep him from interrupting and stopping her. “I know it seems like sometimes you don’t, maybe because you’ve done some things that you regret, but as long as you make peace with those things and accept those things, to know that they were the wrong things to do. And, you work to better yourself from them. Then there is no reason why you should not deserve happiness.” She said to him with a smile.

Then he realized that her hand was laying on top of his from across the table. She must have realized that she had done that because she pulled her hand away and seemed slightly embarrassed.

“Thank you, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” he said while looking at her. He felt like he needed to change the subject, in fear of making things awkward. “So, what do you do for work?”

“Oh, I uh, work here actually.” she said finally looking back at him after feeling embarrassed. “Oh god i seem pathetic, I swear I have a life and friends, I just like to come here when I have some time to relax.” She said while letting out a small laugh.

“You don’t seem pathetic, I would do the same if my work place was as relaxing as here.” Renfield said while giving her a soft smile.

“I actually go in later, wait what time is it?” She checked her phone and jumped up out of her seat when she saw the time. “Oh my god I was supposed to start an hour ago, and I’m here, Linda why didn’t you say anything?” She said turning around towards the older woman working the register. Who in return gave her a wink and a smile before tending to the customer now in line, the first in hours.

“I’m so sorry Robert, I have to go.” She said as she gathered her things. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to see her again.

“Perhaps we could do this again sometime?” he said, folding his jacket over his arms.

“I would love to, you could give me your number and we could plan something.” The girl said with a smile.

“Oh, I don’t have a phone.” He said, which he immediately regretted since he knew in this day and age was weird. “I broke it yesterday, I was going to replace it tomorrow.” He said quickly thinking of something. “But, I can pick you up here this weekend, if you would be interested.”

“That sounds great, what time?”

“I was thinking maybe around 1:00? I hear the weather will be nice on Saturday, so I thought maybe we could have a picnic.” He said, knowing that doing something during the day would mean that his boss could not interrupt it,

“That sounds wonderful, It’s a date.” She said while making her way to the registrar. “I’ll see you then Robert.”

He smiled and said goodbye as he made his way out the door and onto the street, the sun starting to go down. He had realized what exactly he had done. He knew that he couldn’t let his boss find out about her, and he also knew how hard that would be to do. But, knowing that he would get to be with her, made how hard this would be worth it.

“Oh fuck me.” he said making his way back to his boss, but with a smile on his face, something that hadn’t truly been there in a long time.

#renfield #renfield imagine #renfield fanfic #renfield x reader #renfield fluff #robert montague renfield #r.m. renfield #renfield fic #renfield movie #nicholas hoult #nicholas cage #ben shwartz #awkwafina

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slashingdisneypasta · 2 months

Text

Horror House Reacts... to Zoo Animals!

.I've been watching Robert Irwin and Dave Salmoni take wild animals onto the Jimmy Shows and scare the Jimmy's and various other guest stars sOooooo... I had to make this XD

Plot: We are gonna hand each horror Villains a dangerous animal and see how they handle it. Warnings: Swearing. No actual mention of meerkats despite the gif.

Audrey II: A European Brown Hare.

Audrey II, staring at this hare stood up on its hind legs giving them the Eye: ... that is one ugly bunny rabbit. Y/N: AUDREY TWO!!- Audrey II: wh- AM I WRONG?-

Audrey II has no fear, they're a plant from outer space. He also doesn't particularly care for animals though, since its pretty globally accepted that animals are allowed to eat plants when they're peckish... and understandably, they are not having that. Not in this green house XD Nu uh, no siree, nope nope nope, the hare is gonna get eaten first if he even looks at Audrey II wrong.

Billy Loomis: An Emperor Scorpion.

Y/N: Close your eyes and put out your hands. Billy: ... *sigh* *does as he's told as to not be called a coward* Y/N: *Places the scorpion in Billy's cupped hands* Open them! ^^ This is Phil, he's very chill. Please don't drop him. Billy: ... heheh, can I keep this?? Y/N: ?? What??? No, you cant keep Phil- Billy: I wanna leave him in Stu's bed. Y/N: DEFINITELY not-

Billy, is... *sigh*, a teenage boy.

Bubba Sawyer: A Red Kangaroo.

Bubba: *Very cautious, looking at this jacked foreign creature. He's never seen anything like this, he lives in buttfuck nowhere Texas with no tv.* Y/N: Here, Bubba. *hands Bubba a bouquet of gum leaves* Offer her these. Bubba: *Unsure, but approaches the weird pocketed creature and offers out the branches... Quickly calms down when the kangaroo starts simply munching on the leaves* Y/N: See? ^^ Bubba: *Already petting the kangaroo. Wants to take her home and keep her safe and pet her and give her leaves forever.*

Bubba does not love casually 😅😅😅 Once he's warmed up to someone, that person is his family and he wants to keep them safe. My suggestion?? Sneak the kangaroo back to the zoo in the dead of night while Bubba's asleep. (or call Drayton. He certainly don't want no goddamn kangaroo in his house)

Carrie White: A Boa Constrictor.

Carrie: Um, is this safe?? *Eyeing the snake's head closely as you place her gently over her shoulders* ... Y/N: Oh yeah, don't worry, this one's a sweetheart ^^ Carrie: Okay... *snake raises her head and looks around very peacefully, just surveying the room* Oh, she's sweet!... Y/N: She seems very comfortable with you! Carrie: ! Really??

Carrie was apprehensive at first, but when she realises that the boa is not feeling threatened (or hungry), she relaxes and spends quite a while with the snake in her arms! ^^ She's disappointed when she has to say goodbye ):

Chucky Lee Ray: An Eastern Canadian Moose.

Chucky: *staring up at this giant fucking creature, clearly ready to run at any second if the thing makes an unpleasant move* ... You have gotta be fucken kidding me. Y/N: Nope. This is Jessica-Mae! She's from Canada, and she's really nice. I think she'll let you sit on her back, if you wan- Chucky: No I don't wanna sit on Jessica-Mae's back actually Y/N, Jessica-Mae is a fucken monster- Y/N: c h u c k y

Chucky has a... healthy cautiousness when it comes to wild animals XD He does like tarantulas, though.

Freddy Krueger: A West African Lion.

Y/N: Okay so for this one, um, I'm uh... yeah I'm gonna step out. Freddy: ... wait. Wait wait wait. Why are you- *You close the door one side of the room and as soon as the lock clicks into place, the lion prowls in on the other side* Freddy: Oh. Freddy, hands out like 'i mean no harm': ... nice kitty Freddy: ... um. I saw the lion king. It was... a great piece of cinema; your people should be proud. Freddy: ... please don't eat me, you giant son of a bitch.

Freddy was SO EXCITED to meet an animal, but now he's got some concerns about those teeth and his privates.

Jason Voorhees: A Ussuri Grizzly Bear.

Bear: ... *Staring down Jason* Jason: ... *Staring down Bear* Bear and Jason: *Staring each other down* Y/N: ... *Wondering if you should do something* Jason: *Suddenly walks over and gives the bear neck scritches*

... this is a giant toothy puppy to Jason XD Jason loves wildlife, they were his friends growing up in the woods! ^^ And he knows how to keep them calm, so he's very good with them. He hangs out with the bear until its time to go outside, then Jason follows him outside and hangs with him out there ^^

Jennifer Check: A White Rhinoceros.

Jennifer, as soon as Grizelda the rhino steps in: -oh jesus fucking christ. Jennifer: You're fat. Y/N: Oy! Jennifer: What??? She's meant to be, right?? 🙄 G o d... look who's animal-cist. Jennifer: ... can I feed the fat bitch?

The fact that this is an animal does not change a thing about the way Jennifer talks to her XD She is so fascinated, though, and wants to feed Grizelda, pet Grizelda, ask many many questions about Grizelda... she loves her.

Jerry Dandridge: A Perentie Monitor Lizard (Goanna).

Y/N, helping goanna onto Jerry's lap: Now, be careful with Sandy, he can be kinda easily startled and then his claws will cut into your skin, and- Jerry: *Getting along great with the Sandy, Sandy is in the best mood you have ever seen him in; purring.* Y/N: ... Y/N: ... wtf, how?! Sandy's usually so grumpy!- Jerry: Oh I guess we just have a connection~

Jerry and reptiles get along great, they're cold blooded and he... is always cold. He has no blood. He's a vampire XD Try giving him a puppy, though, and watch that puppy leap away from him and growl like a possessed thing (Jerry gets so frowny about it XD).

Michael Myers: A Bengal Tiger.

Michael: *Stock still, actually considering running for the first time in 50 decades* Tiger: ... *yawns* *prowls over to Michael and lays on top of his feet, promptly falling asleep* Y/N: ... um. Well, I think she likes you?? Michael: *Does not move an inch for 3 hours while the tiger naps, staring at it*

Michael, just like cats... is a bitch. They basically adopt him into their family as their big dumb weirdo child (Yes, even the big terrifying ones) and there is not a thing grumpy old Myers can do about it XD

Pamela Voorhees: A Silver Fox.

Pam: *Loves the fox. Sitting in her chair and leaning down to give it treats. Cooing at her.* Y/N: You're so good with her! ^^ Pam: ~Stay away from my son, dear, and I wont have to sick her on you~ Y/N: ... D: What?

Pamela and a sharp toothed creature is a dangerous combination. Stay away from her son.

Patrick Bateman: An African Savanna Elephant.

Patrick: *A too-big smile glued to his face as he strokes the dirty wrinkly elephant* This is... this is fun... Y/N: I knew you'd like her! ^^ Anna is so sweet, and gentle, and quiet, so- Patrick: -You cant tell when I'm fucken lying through my t e e t h!?

Patrick doesn't like any animals, they're wild and filthy and break irreplaceable things he spent hard-earned money on to be unique, but he will force a pleasant face because that is what he does

Pennywise: A Mountain Zebra.

*i was tempted to do a turtle but... seemed too obvious XD Still unsure i made the right call*

Penny: Heheheheh, whats black, white and- Y/N: Don't do it. I swear. Dont do it. Penny: Okay okay okay, I'll be serious. Hey, why do zebras have stripes? Y/N: Oh, well they developed stripes because- Penny: Because they didn't want to be Spotted!

Penny c a n n o t s t o p m a k i n g z e b r a j o k e s. Otherwise, he's pretty good with the zebra. No problems ^^

Stu Macher: A Somali Ostrich.

Stu: Heheh... Y/N, these things don't bite, do they?? Y/N: Oh they totally do. *Hands Stu the leash* Anything with a mouth bites. Stu, levelling his gaze with the giant flightless bird: ... I will bite you back.

Stu is a little chicken, but he's also really curious!! XDD So sure, he'll hang onto the leash and feed the monster bird!! But he will absolutely crouch down and cover his head if the ostrich starts fluttering his wings. And don't you dare leave him XD

Tiffany Valentine: Baby Nile Crocodiles.

Tiff: Chucky!! We have new children now!! Chucky: THE FUCK WE DO- Y/N: N- no... you cant keep them actually... Tiff, ignoring you and Chucky: The kids are gonna love these ^^ Come on, sweethearts, into the sack, single file now- hey, Trudy, no biting your brother-

Tiffany is in love XD And you know how one-track-minded she can be when she's in love XD

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atopvisenyashill · 2 months

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Do you… do you maybe want to share the nedcat sex headcanons?

alsdfj i got you anon

so emotional/timeline wise my headcanons are-

Ned actually knows a lot about sex because he grew up with Brandon and Robert in his ear talking about the women they'd been fucking but he sticks to missionary until after Sansa is born because he doesn't want Cat to think he's a man slut, he canNot get hard if he's thinking about Brandon or anything Brandon ever said to him even a little, and he's also like 75% sure they were just straight up lying to him.

Ned doesn't want to pressure her because he's unsure how long it takes to recover from birth and he's worried she hates him so he awkwardly asks if the birth was hard, how she's feeling, and Catelyn realizes he's asking if she's cleared to fuck and she's just like "yeah I'll come to your room tonight if you want" but Ned is like "no no i'll come to you!!" so the first few years, they're doing all their fucking in her room instead of his.

With the three year gap between Robb and Sansa, I think the first year or so the two of them are barely fucking. There's barely an eye contact because Catelyn still thinks he's mid and he always looks so serious and Ned keeps thinking about Brandon, going soft, and getting embarrassed (i'm an expert on grief and sexual dysfunction bro trust me on this) (i'm being serious here i got a lot of dead family members)

The crying incident happens like a month after the Ashara incident. Ned doesn't skip their Scheduled Sex Day, but the bruise he left takes forever to fade away and they're both really aware of it when they're fucking and he can't like, apologize even though he feels like the biggest asshole and she can't be mad at him because that's not how Proper Wives act, so it's just a lot of no eye contact sex until he's crying into her hair and trying to hide it. Catelyn feels so weird about it because she's like "he's crying over Ashara he hates me he wanted to marry her instead of me and we'll never be happy" but she's also Elder Sister Extreme so his crying makes her start playing with his hair, and then they're sad making out and both crying and he goes soft and they're both laughing at how deeply stupid they're being.

He comes to her room the next night to apologize for being a fucking wreck and then when they're banging - and it's going really well - he suggests she get on top and she's like...I can do that? Hell yes she can and it's real good.

They start fucking more spontaneously, with her dropping hints outside of Scheduled Sex Days that he could drop by if he wants, and Ned awkwardly asking if he can come by on other days, but before they really find a groove she's pregnant with Sansa and he's like "if we fuck it'll hurt the baby" but he notices Cat is clearly feeling some type of way about the fact that they stopped having sex and this is when Ned goes down on her for the first time.

Literally the moment she's cleared they start having sex again. I love that scene in the show where Ros says he rang all the bells in Winter's Town for a week after Sansa was born, because I just love the idea that Cat is feeling slightly bummed that this one came out with red hair and a girl at that (she wants a daughter eventually but what she wants is a son that looks like Ned) but Ned is so jazzed about being here for this birth and getting to hold Sansa when she's still a newborn and the birth was easy so they're both healthy, and keeps stopping random servants to be like "look at my baby i made this!!" that Cat just completely falls in love and is dropping hints about him visiting her rooms whenever he wants and Ned loves affection so. It's so good none of the kids are old enough to be scarred by how often their parents fuck yet.

Sometime after Arya is born and he's back from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they start getting super adventurous. He's going down on her in the godswood. She's going down on him in the middle of the day in his solar. One time she wears an old dress that's a lil too tight across the chest and he mumbles about visiting her later and she's just like you know what fuck it and they do it in a random room. He feels her up one time in the Sept but she's like i canNot do this with the Seven watching so he drags her to his room and it's not even lunchtime. They get ass over tits drunk at an Umber wedding and bang (really quickly and not very quietly) in a random hallway. Robb sees like the corner of Ned's ass one (1) time when they're fucking in the godswood and they calm down a little bit because Robb spends the rest of the month sullenly glaring at Ned while Jon is clearly trying to become one with whatever floor he's standing on because Robb obviously squealed immediately.

They start fucking in his room before Bran is born and she starts sleeping in there sometimes when they get tired out lmao. As they age, they gotta limber up a lil bit but that just means Ned has has an excuse to "massage" her aka feel her up. She will do that thing where she'll lightly massage his shoulders in public but it always gets him a lil rowdy (in an affectionate, loving way) and it makes Theon cackle and it makes Robb want to die and Jory is always saying he hopes he's happy like that with his wife while Robb is begging him to shut the fuck up.

Ned would never grab her ass in public but he definitely checks her out with zero shame in front of the gods and everyone because the pregnancies gave her a huge ass and sometimes Arya will narrow her eyes at him because she doesn't know what the fuck he's staring at but she knows it's inappropriate and then Ned feels guilty for being horny in front of his kids.

specific "what are they doing in bed" stuff-

most of the weird shit they get into is curiosity. neither of them is ever trying to be sexy (he doesn't want to pressure her, proper ladies don't enjoy they endure, etc) but she is naturally curious and they find each other so completely sexy that they just want to try everything to see how it feels.

they get into orgasm denial (for her). starts out as just like, they're unsure of what to do, he's fairly certain Robert was making up all that stuff about his girls screaming in ecstasy but once they find a groove, Ned finds he really enjoys like, methodically edging her until she's tearing her own hair out and then getting really rough, and it becomes a game to see how close he can get her without pushing her over, how long she can stay on the edge without going over, and then snowballs into how long they can fuck ~just for him~ until she's like, inconsolable. this is mostly because ~proper ladies don't ask for it~ right so Catelyn is always framing her own sexual desire as I'm Sure You Have Needs My Lord so Ned becomes determined to make her admit that she really wants him.

He goes down on her literally all the time. Man dreams about eating the pussy every night.

obviously Ned has a canon breeding kink a mile wide but that's because when they're fucking Catelyn is talking to him about making another son. she picked that up from a Manderly wedding they went to. she doesn't go down on him as often because he's like no it goes Inside You Cat and it's the most hilarious, most sexy thing he gets huffy about.

they do reverse cowgirl all the time specifically so he can watch her hair bounce all around. she really loves when she's in his lap and they're just kinda grinding and making out and he's playing with her hair because she really likes the feeling of her chest against his.

they go hard he has bruised her hips a lot but it's okay because she scratches the fuck out of his back. they're both really apologetic the first time it happens except as it turns out not only does Cat get a thrill out of pressing down on the bruises during the day, Ned likes looking at the scratches so they start doing it on purpose. he's really careful to never bruise her arms however (he did one time kind of accidentally because he was holding her wrists above her head and she was weird and moody all week until he realized he'd triggered The Bad Memory) but he will leave fingerprint bruises all over her thighs and chest. She'll scratch up his chest enough to draw blood and he'll be fingering the scrape and Luwin is like why do you two do this to me. make sure she washes her hands before at least so it doesn't get inflamed seven hells.

She catches Theon doing anal with a servant and gets curious and brings it to Ned and she likes how it's just a little painful and overwhelming. Ned never finishes inside her ass though he thinks it's really weird, so he finishes on her belly usually which he feels is a waste until she started scooping it up and licking it off her fingers again, mostly out of curiosity than anything, and he uh, really likes that.

He still refuses to come in her mouth though lmao.

#nedcat #asks #anons #ned stark #catelyn stark

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killersfool · 6 months

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hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.

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bonzos-number-1-fan · 5 days

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TMAGP 19 Thoughts: Bad Scientist

Another really strong episode, and one with a lot to get into. Probably the densest episode yet in terms of historical context, lore content, and mystery clues. So a lot to get into and no point in any more preamble.

Spoilers for episode 19 below the cut.

Sam and Celia's chat is somewhat interesting. She's now looking into alchemy. It looks like she's looking into the exact stuff Sam was, because she's also looking into the Magnus Institute now. Darrien 2 did a world hop and the Magnus Institute scooped him up so that lead makes sense to follow. Although it's curious that she hadn't done that yet. She's continuing to push Sam to keep up that research too. Celia is pretty much always trying to pull people's strings like that. It being such a consistent character trait does bring into question how sincere any of her actions really are with the rest of the office.

Before I get into the incident proper, this is going to be a bit of a weird one. There is a lot of historical context and alchemic terminology in this one. As such I'll be quoting the show more than usual to explain and explaining who people are, what they're doing, why it's relevant, etc. Like I said, it's very dense. There are also a couple of points of interesting grammar to mention as well which would be missed without the transcripts.

The incident's format is a letter from Robert Hook to Robert Boyle who are both Fellows of the Royal Society. Which is a lot of context off the bat. So, Robert Hook was a 17th century polymath who's most well know these days for his work in microscopy with a microscope of his own design, and for his work in helping rebuild London after the Great Fire (which we'll get to). He also did a lot of work on gravity and planetary rotations which ended up being quite foundational to Newton's law of universal gravitation. He wasn't, however, an alchemist. Boyle on the other hand very much was. Widely regarded as the first modern chemist and he's most famous for The Sceptical Chymist, a work that would be hard to overstate the importance of for the field. Hook, Boyle, and Newton all overlapped a lot in a lot of ways outside of these things too, especially in fields like optics and colour theory.

They were all also Fellows of the Royal Society at this stage too. Which to give it its full name is The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge. It's general goal is to promote science, offer support to scientists, and helping shape policy. It was only founded in 1660 and so hasn't been around for a very long time at the time of this incident. The Royal Society is also what's being referred to with the numerous mentions of "Good Science". In short, it's about using science for the public good and to aid in further the endeavours of other scientists to that end. So the Royal Society is probably not up to anything nefarious here. Despite the fact that Newton ends up becoming its president later in life.

Another big thing mentioned here and repeated throughout is the "Protocol". Capital P in the transcripts. So, yes, they said the thing. It's not the first time it's come up but both times it's come up it has been standalone. I don't know if I mentioned it in last time but I have a feeling that the "Magnus Protocol" isn't really a thing. There is just the Protocol and it was used against the Magnus Institute. For its full title to be the "Magnus Protocol" it'd likely have to be named after Albertus Magnus, who is a noted alchemist himself, but I think it's more likely that the Magnus Institute is named after him than the Protocol itself. The most interesting detail we get about it though is that whatever the Protocol is it was enacted against London to burn out a plague. Which would mean in this setting the Great Fire of London was deliberately set to combat the Great Plague of London.

So now we're at Newton himself. The gravity guy. But also the laws of motion guy, the calculus guy, the optics guy, and a lot of other guys guy. Of note here is that Newton was a very noted alchemist and theologian. Both fields were large parts of his full body of works. I think Newton is well known enough that I don't need to get into that though. Besides it's not the first time I've talked about him. As a quick reminder of that though Newton was Warden and Master of the Royal Mint. At the time he served in those roles the Royal Mint had moved out of the Tower of London to Royal Mint Court. Which is where the OIAR is currently located.

Okay for our first quote we have this:

It was only through the Protocol that we were spared from that Dread emission and I fear that such an act is once again required

The capitalisation there is how it appears in the transcript. Protocol we've talked about but "Dread emission" is very interesting. The capital implies that it's the name of something. Which I would wager is either one of, or the whole of, forces Lena mentioned that need to be kept in check.

Then we get to Newton's work proper with this:

he had finally perfected the work of Wilhelm Homberg to produce what he termed the Arbor Philosophorum Perfecta.

Which is very interesting for a number of reasons. Arbor Philosophorum, the Philosopher's Tree, or Diana's tree is a real thing. It's a dendritic amalgam of silver and mercury. Basically meaning it's a metal who's crystalline structure grows to resemble a tree. Wilhelm Homberg is German natural philosopher that wrote a fairly simple recipe for this process and while it's not known if Newton ever attempted it we do know he had a recipe for this. Although it's actually George Starkey's recipe which is a gold mercury amalgam instead. What's more important is that Diana's tree was thought to be a precursor to the philosopher's stone itself. So Newton has basically perfected something of similar nature to it. With some fairly fucked up results, as we'll see.

Out next quote is Latin:

de ligno autem scientiae boni et mali ne comedas in quocumque enim die comederis ex eo morte morieris

Which is Genesis 2:17, and in English (NET) it reads:

but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will surely die.

Because, as noted, Newton was a theologian too. People probably think of him as a rational scientist atheist type but back then there wasn't as much conflict between the two. He was a devout, if not exactly orthodox, Christian.

Christian or not he's playing God a little. We get to see what the fruit of his labours are and it's not looking like good science at all.

such a creature must by all natural law lack that essential and ephemeral anima that is required for such awful knowledge I tell you here Robert, it saw me and it knew me.

So this is an interesting thing to say. Anima in this context isn't the Jungian syzygy but something more akin to "spirit". The anima has a lot of overlap with the tria prima. Which I've spoken about a fair bit before but is an alchemical concept that sulfur, mercury, and salt embody three fundamental principals, but also defined human personality. Mercury is spirit and is related to concepts like morality, imagination, but most importantly for us higher reasoning. A lot of emphasis is placed on the dog's knowledge and Diana's tree, the catalyst for this transformation, is a silver mercury amalgam. So it looks like Newton found a way impart spirit onto something.

There is also this:

I propose that we enact the Protocol but limit it only to his laboratory, destroying his research and correspondence

Fun fact: the dog Newton is experimenting on is likely Diamond. Diamond has a lot of stories about him. The most important one is that he burned about 20 years worth of Newton's manuscripts.

And that's that. Quite a lot to break down as I said. But we're not quite done.

Sam talks to Alice about the computers listening to them. Which isn't the first time he's had that thought but it's nice to see him bringing it up. Alice is very Alice about it but Sam is at least trying to figure things out.

Lena and Gwen have a Lena and Gwen conversation about Lena sending Gwen to her probable doom. But Starkwall is mention again. Nothing too interesting to say on it though.

We finally get more of Colin. It's been too long. He obviously know's Freddy is listening in at this stage but what I want to focus on is the last two sentences here:

No, what I need is to not be seen. He sees too much already. Doing mummy and daddy Stasi proud, I’m sure. Not that anyone cares as long as it all balances, right? Not too much mercury or the world ends, not too much sulfur or we all go mad…

So as I was just talking about the tria prima, here it is again. Sulfur is the soul which is emotions and desires. Which lines up fairly well with how Colin describes what too much of it would do. But this whole thing seems to tie into Lena's talk about balancing forces. Which makes a great deal of sense as the alchemical symbols for the tria prima, along with the philosopher's stone, all appear in the OIAR's logo. How Newton ties into that remains to be seen but there is a very large link there. The mention of the Stasi is also sort of interesting here. For those that don't know the Stasi are the East German secret police. Germany has come up a few times before with Freddy having German source code, Klaus being a German, and most relevant to this in the ARG the largest body of text was a usenet group about people leaving East Germany. Which then ties back into Colin as one of its member hacked the OIAR, and also seemed to be helping out jmj.

Okay, all done. Now it's time for more of the same but nerdier and unhinged.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 1137 is very reasonable. Just a Weird thing that was very weird and had a little bit of mental manipulation to it which looks to be Helplessness' purview. It's also more weight on my idea that 1 is the floor with 0 being the ceiling and counting as 10. There was nothing in the supernatural element of this one that had any strong resonance with Death or Pain as concepts or themes. If 0 was the floor I'd expect to see it for this one.

CAT# Theory: CAT13 is a great a CAT#. It's exactly the sort of thing I was talking about in the essay on why it's not Person/Place/Object. The supernatural "person" here is either Newton performing the magic, or the dog that's the subject of the magic. The object is the crystal that induces the transformation. Which is a virtually identical setup to the tattoo incidents but those aren't CAT13. They're CAT3, CAT23, and CAT1. It's continuing that trend of data that you can explain in isolation but becomes incongruous when taken as a whole.

Anyone that's read most of these rambles will have heard me mention the notion of CAT# being related to the tria prima. It's something I talked about when the first couple of eps came out. Colin mentioning sulfur and mercury is a fairly overt reference to it, and Diana's tree is a silver mercury amalgam. In relation to CAT# it's always been something that felt right. What tria prima describes and how CAT# works would go hand in hand for this sort of thing. Now, I'd be a hypocrite if I clung to the idea just because it felt good. So I quickly discarded it because episodes didn't line up will with it pretty early on but it might warrant a fresh look. I might have been right but with too little data to see the pattern.

The way Colin talks about it also ties in with another idea I've floated that CAT# is about the domains of either three entities, a triple deity, three purviews multiple entities share, or that each combination is an entity that's a portion of a whole. Lena's comment about the OIAR balancing forces would obviously tie into that notion too.

R# Theory: Rank BC is about what I expected on this one. It's not something you'd think happened but it's at least backed up by a historical account of someone well known. So more weight behind it than a letter about a mass hysteria event, but still in the realms of "yeah, nah".

Header talk: Transformation (canine) -/- growth (Crystalline) is bonkers. Transformation (Canine) you would think is a Transformation that is somehow canine in nature. Transformation (Eyes) isn't just your eyes. So, if this is correctly filed, dogs have their own subsection that encompasses all of transformations that occur to dogs. Any transformation, regardless of what it does, so long as it transforms a dog would be Transformation (Canine)? Growth is fine. It grew root-like things/Diana's tree is grown. So it makes sense. Although I'm not sure it's the most compelling crosslink when it was doing the whole "know the nature of you" thing. Crystalline on the other hand is madness. Sure, Diana's tree is a crystal but it's formatted like the subsection of a crosslink. Or a sub-crosslink, I suppose. Which hasn't been implied to be possible thus far and if it is possible why don't they all include it? Surely this helps with the problem in specificity that was mentioned in the very first episode? This one feels the most like a misfile so far. No format again either.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #klaus = kl4-u5

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arialerendeair · 6 months

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Happy Birthday!!!!!! May all your wishes come true!!!! Good health and wealth to you!!!

As a Gabe anon, I feel compelled to give you a little idea and here it is. A Sleepless in Seattle AU!

Hob is a recently widowed father to a precocious 10-year-old, Robyn. They lost Eleanor just the year before and to help themselves, they pack up and move out of the city she grew up in to move to Seattle.

On the other side of the country, Dream is preparing to marry Calliope, whom he met at work. The relationship is fine. He likes her well enough and she likes him well enough. Marriage is just something that makes this all seem real.

It's Christmas Eve and while on a long drive home, Dream tunes into a radio show where Robyn is asking for a new wife or husband for his father. He's been real sad since his mom died and he just wants someone to join their little family.

Then Hob catches him and sends him off to bed and takes over the call. He gets to talking about what he loved about his wife and what he misses most. Dream heart melts for this stranger so many miles away.

Dream decides to write him a letter. He wants to meet Hob and Robyn on top of the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day, much to the chagrin of his friend Lucienne who rightly tells him he doesn't want to be in love in real life. He wants to be in love in a movie. He's also still engaged to Calliope after all. Dream thinks better of it and tosses the letter, which Lucienne still mails.

Hob meanwhile has moved on and has started dating again. Which Robyn doesn't like. He finds Gwen too weird for his tastes. Besides he likes Dream's letter the best. Which puts the house at odds. Robyn wants to go to New York for Valentine's Day, Hob wants to go to a cabin for the weekend with Gwen. They fight about it all day long until Eurydice, Robyn's new friend, uses her parent's travel agency to put him on a plane.

Robyn's going to New York to see his new dad <3

- 🤜 anon

ANON I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GRATEFUL IN MY LIFE THAT YOU DECIDED TO COME AND GRACE MY INBOX WITH THIS. BECAUSE THIS IS GLORIOUS.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Hob has never been more panicked in his entire life than he was when he got the phone call from his babysitter that Robyn wasn't at home. The ensuing fight with Gwen had been quick, vicious, and frustrating. She had understood his need to go after Robyn, of course, but when she found out that Robyn had left to meet this mystery letter person, they'd had a fight over the love letter that Hob still carried in his wallet.

(Why did he carry the letter in his wallet? How long had he had the loopy handwriting memorized, how long had he known every single word, no matter how many times he'd read it....)

Hob had taken Gwen home, and had accepted her demand to delete her number from his phone and hauled ass to the airport, purchasing a ticket the second he hit the counter, racing to the gate in time. The flight was agonizing, and Robyn had clearly turned his phone off, no matter how many times Hob looked at it and begged for his kid to answer one of his dozen or so texts.

~!~

Perhaps Dream should have known that Calliope would not stand to play second fiddle to anyone, even an imaginary man who had no basis or truth in reality. Yet when she'd handed him the ring back with a regretful look, he'd felt nothing but relief. He had no doubt that in another world, they could, perhaps, find happiness together, but every time Dream looked at the Empire State Building... he wondered.

Strange that the sound of a single man's voice had made him decide to abandon all reason. But Robert Gadling (call him Hob, according to his adorable son) had sounded so wistful and so lovely that it had been impossible not to be drawn to the possibility of offering what it was that the man was seeking. No matter that he lived across the entire country and the possibility of him being at the top of the Empire State Building tonight was so unlikely as to be called impossible...

The romantic in him couldn't deny it how much he wanted Hob to be waiting for him there. Even if Dream had no idea what he looked like, or how someone like Robyn would like him, it didn't matter. The possibility of it all was a break in the 'fine' that it seemed had been suffocating him his entire life.

So Dream raced to the Empire State Building, barely making it past the guard, promising a quick look before he left, and ran out onto the observation deck. The sight of no one there, only an empty chill, had his heart sinking, because of course he'd been foolish, of course he had wanted too much, wanted the impossible - when the door opened behind him.

Standing there was a man, with his son, and they were in the middle of an argument.

"I told you no one would be up here, they were closed-"

"But Dad, his letter promised! He promised!"

"I know, but sometimes adults make promises that they can't keep," Hob said, his voice softening, gentling.

Dream stared in shock, because it was impossible not to recognize both of those voices. He'd heard them in his dreams for weeks now, and they likely hadn't seen him because of his all black ensemble. He cleared his throat and stepped into the orange light from the inside.

"I am in the habit of keeping my promises," he offered up, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He stepped closer, even tough it was clear that they were both in shock. A moment later, Robyn was barreling toward him, and Dream caught the boy against his legs carefully, well aware that Robert Gadling (Hob, Hob, his name was Hob) was watching. "It's a pleasure to meet you Robyn."

"I knew you'd come, Mr. Dream. You promised. You said that everyone needs to have dreams, and how important they are, no matter how fantastical they are!" Robyn said, his face pressed tight to him. "You're perfect for Dad, I just know it."

Dream swallowed down the instinctive disagreement, because he was far from perfect for anyone, and in fact, it was the distinct opposite, where he was often too much. "I think that will be up to your Dad and I to determine, Robyn. But I have you to thank for our meeting." He knelt down, uncaring of he cold granite on his knees and met the warm brown eyes of the boy who loved his father so much, he'd tried to do the impossible.

"No matter what happens, Robyn, never forget how important it is to-"

"Put magic into the world," Hob finished, quoting Dream's letter from memory, meeting the wild blue eyes that sent his heart stuttering all over again. "Because if we do not make our own magic, if we do not rejoice in the magic there is to be had, it will fade away before we even know what we have lost."

Dream's breath caught and he stared at Hob. "You read my letter," he whispered.

"Dad keeps it tucked in his wallet," Robyn stage-whispered. "He's read it so many times when he thought I wasn't looking. I think he needs a little magic."

Dream's lips quirked and he grinned as Hob began to flush, his cheeks growing more and more red by the second. "Does he now?" He reached out and gave Robyn's hands a small squeeze before standing and moving closer to where Robert Gadling was tugging at his ear lobe in embarrassment.

"Hello Robert," Dream breathed, his voice soft. "My name is Morpheus Endless, but I would have you call me Dream."

"Hello Dream," Hob repeated, his voice soft, reverent. He could feel his cheeks were flaming red because the most beautiful man he'd ever seen swayed closer to him. "Call me Hob, please? If that's not too weird?"

Dream nodded. "Hob," he agreed. "You kept my letter?"

Hob nodded and reached out to pull it from his letter, unfolding it carefully. "I, I used to be a medieval professor. No one hand writes letters anymore. But yours was handwritten."

"Of course. It was important," Dream whispered. "It had to be a little bit magical. For the man I fell a little in love with over a radio show."

Hob gasped, his eyes widening. There was a story in the way Dream's chin tilted up, unrepentant, but aware it was too much, that it should be too much. It was a story he very much wanted to discover. He swallowed and looked down at Robyn who was grinning wildly at both of them.

"I think I fell a little in love with you when you turned around to tell Robyn you always keep your promises," Hob admitted, his heart pounding. Pink streaked across Dream's cheekbones and he wanted to chase it with his lips. "But don't you live in New York? We, we don't..."

"As it turns out," Dream said, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I am a children's author who is quite able to work from wherever he likes. So perhaps, I could offer my guest room to you both this evening, and I could visit the west coast soon?"

"Really soon, Mr. Dream?" Robyn asked. "Please?"

Dream winked at Hob and looked down at Robyn. "If I can manage it, I have every intention of flying back on the same flight as both of you. I can't have someone else stealing your father away when I have decided to properly court him, after all."

The noise that escaped his throat was embarrassing, but hearing Dream say that he intended to COURT him was... he wasn't the one who should be COURTED, not when Dream was, was, he was the one who deserved to be courted!

"If he will have me of course," Dream added, meeting Hob's eyes again. "I am perhaps out of practice, but I will do my best."

Hob could see the hesitancy there, the worry, and if he wasn't halfway in love with Dream already from that small declaration, he didn't know himself at all. So instead, he reached out, tangled his hands in the collar of Dream's jacket and pulled him in close. "We can practice together," he breathed against Dream's lips, swallowing his gasp with a soft kiss.

They broke apart to Robyn's loud cheer followed by the pointed clearing of the throat of the elevator bellman. Hob laughed and pressed his forehead against Dream's, holding onto his hand tightly as they made their way to the exit. Perhaps it would end horribly, perhaps it was a dream not meant to last, but...

Dream didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

Or on the flight home.

Or on the car ride back to his house.

Or when he offered the use of his guest room in return for Dream's kindness.

Or, when, three weeks later, he admitted that he had fallen in proper love, and he wanted Dream to stay.

Dream didn't let go, and Hob let himself believe in the magic of happily ever after.

#Aria Posts #Dreamling #Birthday Asks #Romance Novels #A SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE AU I AM DYING #AND SCREAMING

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 11 months

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You're waiting for a train...(2)

To Build Cathedrals

Robert Fischer x reader, Arthur x reader (if you squint)

description - You leave your dad to go look for a new architect as you and Arthur set up the workspace. But your mind is plagued with dreams of its own.

word count - 2.7k (ooo we're getting bigger)

warnings - allusions to sexual assault, mentions of death, allusion to child abuse

a/n - This chapter looks more into how y/n's mind is shaped much like her father's and we also see a hint of Arthur and y/n's relationship (and yes it is weird that she sees him as her uncle). I've realised this is gonna be a slow burn for Robert x reader because of the chronology of the inception plot I'm trying to follow; I promise it'll be worth it!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dad and I stood as statues outside the university. It all felt so familiar from my youth but when I walked through, I felt as absent as a stranger.

“He’ll want to see you.”

“I’ll leave the conversation to you. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know what he thinks of me. You didn’t have a choice, I did. In his eyes, I chose wrong.”

Dad let his arm rest on my shoulder in a silent act of comfort. I sucked back the tears, so he thought I was okay. The reality was I wanted nothing more than to run in there and jump into my grandads arms. But I couldn’t, in good fait,h knowing he thought of me as the girl who abandoned her siblings for no life at all.

I wiped away a rogue tear.

“Anyways, Arthur needs me to help him set up. But I’ll be waiting at the warehouse, okay. And I promise I won’t leave to go anywhere without Arthur.” I raised my hand to cup his cheek, so he felt the sincerity of my words. I went to leave my father to his search.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find someone as good as you were.”

Without turning back, I shouted. “Find someone better!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Cobb’s pov*

“You never did like your office.” Dad raised his head surprised to hear my voice, even more shocked to see my body.

“No space to think in that broom cupboard.” He quipped. “Is it safe for you to be here? Where’s y/n?”

“Extradition between France and the USA is a bureaucratic nightmare. Y/n is fine, she’s with Arthur.”

“I think they might find a way to make it work in your case.”

I made my way down and sat the meek gesture of toys on his desk.

“Look, y/n bought these, she thought the kids would like them. Saw them in Amsterdam.”

“It’s gonna take more than the occasional stuffed animal to remind those kids that they still have a father…and a sister. Y/n knows that.”

“She’s trying her best. She wants to make the best out of the situation she’s in.”

“The situation you put her in.” His voice became stern, and I cowered like a small boy.

“It was her choice. She said that she couldn’t let me go just like that.”

“She was your child; you shouldn’t have let her have the choice in the first place. The choice was life or death and you let her choose death just so you could imagine you still had a family and that it all hadn’t crumbled before you.”

“Yes. I am being selfish because I like that she’s still with me. I like having her here because without her I couldn’t cope.”

“You let her follow you into this life and it seems she suffers the consequences the most.”

“She told you?”

“She told grandma.”

“What the projections or the subjects do is unpredictable. Sometimes they respond to the presence put in front of them, in her case, a beautiful young girl.”

He looks down, ashamed of what he’s hearing.

“Look I’m just doing what I know. I’m doing what you taught me.”

“I never taught you to be a thief.”

“No, you taught me to navigate people’s minds. But after what happened, there weren’t a whole lot of legitimate ways to do that.”

He suddenly felt the meaning of my visit and retreated back into his chair. He punctuated the silence.

“What are you doing here, Dom?” I paused, wondering how to phrase this without inviting a lot of questions.

“I think we found a way home. It’s a job for some very very powerful people. People who I believe can fix my charges permanently. But I need your help.”

“You’re here to corrupt one of my best and brightest.” He taunted me by brandishing the end of his pen.

“You know what I’m offering, you have to let them decide for themselves.”

“Money.”

“Not just money. You remember, the chance to build cathedrals, entire cities, things that never existed. Things that couldn’t exist in the real world.”

“So, you want me to let someone else, follow you into your fantasy.”

“They won’t actually come into the dream. They just design the levels and teach them to the dreamers.”

“Design it yourself.”

“Mal won’t let me.” I saw his face droop at the mention of her. Already sighing at the sight of my delusion.

“What about y/n, she was always better than you were anyway.”

“She refuses. She’ll help with a maze or a paradox occasionally when she gets bored of our architects incompetence, but she won’t build herself anymore. I don’t know why. She won’t tell me.” He sat forward in his chair. Eyes pleading with me to bring y/n home.

“Come back to reality. Please.”

“Those kids are waiting for their father and sister to come home. That’s their reality. This job-this last job- that’s how we get there. I would not be standing here if I knew another way. I need an architect who is as good as I was.”

“I’ve got someone better.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Ariadne?” A perky petite girl runs to meet Miles’ inviting hand. “I’d like you to meet Mr Cobb.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“If you have a few moments, Mr Cobb has a job offer he’d like to discuss with you.”

“A work placement?”

“Not exactly.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I made it to the warehouse and walked in to see Arthur fiddling with different pieces of equipment.

“You look funny handling tech equipment in that suit.” I loudly teased to get his attention.

He turned towards me with a smile. “Thought you’d be with Cobb and the new recruit.”

“He can do it without me; besides I didn’t fancy the third degree from grandad.”

“He’s just protective. This job isn’t exactly made for you.”

“What? You don’t think I can handle myself?”

“Oh, don’t worry I know you can. The scar on my eye proves it.” We laughed together in a way we hadn’t done in a while. I’d always found comfort around Arthur. When I first left with my dad, I was young and innocent. I had no idea what I’d signed up for. So, once we started working with Arthur I began to loosen up a little as I felt I had someone I could truly trust. Yes, there were people like Eames who came around for the odd job and who I could rely on on the mission. But Arthur was different. I trusted him in a way that encapsulated my whole heart.

We began to unpack the equipment, preparing for when dad would be back to introduce the new recruit to dream-walking. I had just found some old deck chairs stuffed at the back that I dragged to the centre. They made a horrible squeak as the metal scraped on concrete.

“Are you okay?” Arthur pondered.

“Yeah why?”

“Just after Nash and that last job, I worried you would shut down.”

“This could be Dad’s chance to clear his name, I got no time to shut down.” I put on a confidence and winked his way before punching his arm as I passed for good measure.

“Anyways,” I spoke facing the window. “It’s not like I’ve not dealt with that before. It’s old news.”

“I know.” Arthur said solemnly, refusing to look my way. “But you shouldn’t.”

“Well, it happened, it happens, and it’s going to happen again.” I giggled through my tear-filled eyes. I felt Arthur’s presence behind me, bringing me into the lightest hug.

“You know I’m here for you. And if you don’t want to tell your dad when it happens, that’s fine but promise you’ll at least tell me. You know I love giving a guy a good punch, especially on your behalf.”

I turned around in his arms and found our noses almost touching.

“Thank you, Arthur. My knight in shining armour.” I could see the muscles in his neck strain as he very gently leaned in. I copied and moved until our lips softly grazed.

*SCREEEEECH*

We jumped back from each other, in a spook.

“That’ll be them I guess.” I quickly fled the scene and brushed my fingers against my lips. That was about to happen, wasn’t it?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ariadne gasped as she awoke. Her eyes were flamed, and her pupils darted around the room, trying to make sense of it all. The music bubbled throughout the room adding a flare of theatrics to the situation. This was her second time under, so I assumed her jerk meant she hadn’t woken up in the most pleasant way.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Arthur quickly reassured her. Calming her down through gentle caresses.

“Why didn’t I wake up?”

I answered whilst making sure Dad was okay. “Because there was still time on the clock, and you can’t wake up from a dream unless you die.”

“She’ll need a totem.” Dad announced, already leaving the room.

“Dad give her a minute, geez.”

“What? Dad? Wait what?” Ariadne was shaken and looked between Cobb, and I confused.

“A totem it’s a small, personal-“

“That’s some subconscious you’ve got on you, Cobb! She’s a real charmer.”

“Ah I see you met my mom.”

“She’s, his wife?” She asked breathlessly, looking up at me. I nodded sadly.

“So, a totem, you need a small object, potentially heavy, something you can have on you all the time.” Ariadne covered her eyes to mentally acknowledge what she had just been through. I knew none of Arthur’s words were registering. It was too soon. She needed to go away so she can see how addicting it feels. I remembered my first time. I was so scared, but it was a delicious fear. “Something that no one else knows.”

“Like a coin?”

“No, it needs to be more unique than that. Like this is a loaded die,” Arthur brought out his totem, similar to mine. “I can’t let you touch it, see that would defeat the purpose. Only I know the balance and the weight of this loaded die. That way when you look at your totem, you know that you’re not in someone else’s dream.” I stuck my hand in my pocket to feel my own. It was a picture of me, James, and Philippa but it has a small mistake on it. In the picture I have braces, when in reality I’ve never worn them.

I left Arthur and Ariadne to talk and went to check on my dad. He had the spinning top again. We both watched it spin out, helpless to do anything else. When it fell, he loudly exhaled. I knew he had to do it, I just didn’t know why.

We both re-joined Arthur to find that the girl had left. It was probably all too much for such little time. And any run in with Mal’s projection would make anyone uneasy.

“She’ll be back. I’ve never seen anyone pick it up that quickly before.”

“I’ll try not to be offended.” I said with a smirk. Dad kissed my forehead. “Of course, except you, sweetie.”

“Reality’s not gonna be enough for her now, I remember the feeling.”

“When she comes back, you’re gonna have her building mazes.”

“Where are you gonna be?”

“I gotta go visit Eames.” I quietly clapped and celebrated in the corner. Eames was my favourite person to work with and we’ve always had a great partnership since our first time when I was only 15. He was the one who taught me impersonation and forgery, much to my dad’s admiration. If Arthur was like my uncle, then Eames was my rebellious older brother, letting me get away with anything I wanted.

“Eames? No, he’s in Mombasa, it’s Cobol’s backyard.”

“It’s a necessary risk.”

“Well, there’s plenty of good thieves.”

“We don’t just need a thief. We need a forger.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Arthur had reluctantly gone home for the night. I promised him I would be fine sleeping in the warehouse since my dad was away. He didn’t trust me, but he knew he couldn’t argue with me. I mean I didn’t lie. I did want to sleep.

I got myself comfortable on the deck chair and let the sedative seep into my veins.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your dream space*

I opened my eyes in the lobby of the hotel. Over the years I had fashioned my subconscious in this specifically navigable layout. I could bury things on different floors, and revisit things in different rooms.

It was empty. Just how I liked it. Projections of your mind are easier to get rid of than you think. I clipped my heels all the way down to the large metal elevator. I entered into the 1920s style tiled lift and looked at the numbers. -3, -2, -1, 0, 1, 2, 3.

My painted finger pressed harshly down into ‘1’.

The lift rung to life and pushed me up into the crevices of my mind. And as quickly as it started the doors were back open on to a brightly lit white corridor. The hall was as clean and perfect as I wanted to keep these memories. I opened up the door ‘101’.

Inside I saw James, Philippa and I dancing at the beach. As my projection pushes her feet through the sand, I curl my toes as I feel it soft beneath me. We are running about playing a game of tig as mom and dad look on from the picnic blanket laid out with food. The colours have faded like an old photograph, and I struggle to make out the different faces.

I decided to jump ahead a little and reach for room ‘111’.

I walk hand in hand down a beautifully decorated woodland path. Mom and dad flank me on either side. I stand tall, a child of 11, in the midst of my very own dream. That was the first time. Like the previous one it’s colours have all but gone.

I hurry back into the elevator and change the floor to number ‘2’.

This floor is harshly painted yellow, and its lights flicker incessantly. I trudge down the disgustingly patterned carpet to room ‘204’. My hand questions itself as it reaches for the handle. The door flies open into the living room of our house. I stand face to face with my mother in all her beauty. She is shouting.

“You are not my daughter; don’t you think I’d know if you were.”

My young voice shakes as it answers. “Mom, please, it’s me. You have to believe me.”

“You. Are. Not. Real.”

Her hand grasps the kitchen knife and raises it. I slam the door shut and hear the yelp of my self projection. I wait to calm my heavy breathing. I don’t want to remember her like this but it’s the only room she frequents now.

My limp body returns to the lift, and I finally reach for ‘3’. The box whirrs to life and almost gently raises me up into the final floor. This is my newest creation, where I store the unexplained and the prophetic.

I walk out onto the beautiful sage green corridor, adorned with expensive antique decorations. I make my way to room ‘301’. The door softly creaks open, and my eyes are blinded by a white light filtering in from an open window. The transparent net curtain hinders my eyeline. But in front of me I see the silhouette of a man. He is only wearing a pair of briefs and I am able to make out the lean but structured outline of his body. His hair is thick and luscious. A few chocolate strands have fallen to kiss his sharp cheekbones. I struggle to discern a face, yet I still feel stuck in this man’s gaze. Like his eyes have me in their grip. I push my way through the netting, but it works against me, rooting me to the spot. I struggle and I struggle. The constraint of the curtain becoming too much to bear. It’s difficult to breathe in my panic.

“Are you alright?” The strangers voice is the last thing I hear permeating the darkness before I’m woken up by the clock. The sedative wore off.

I sat there for a minute, gathering my breath. He was there. Again. He’s always there. No matter what I build, or where I hide, he finds a way through.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I wonder who that mysterious man could be ;)

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage

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odiesdayoff · 4 months

Text

The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress.

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him.

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank.

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now.

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all.

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that.

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to.

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in.

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this.

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt.

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open.

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat.

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents.

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.”

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured?

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you.

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes.

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it.

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable.

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered.

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face.

He had won.

#inception #robert fischer x reader #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer #odiesdayoff #cillian murphy

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