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rebelfell · 8 days ago

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for your viewing pleasure┃vol. 1

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

all my pornstar!eddie blurbs together at last b/c I hated how I published them originally. the og posts are still here, but they have been edited/expanded somewhat, and I’ve included a “finale” of sorts that is new! index for this story is here.

cw: pornstar!au, so…porn. but it’s also a kind of fantasy porn company/industry, so not really at all based in reality or fact. sex work, oral sex (f & m rec), public-ish sex, piv sex.

18+, MDNI┃8.7k

special thanks to @urhoneycombwitch for helping come up with like 90% of this via mutual flailing in my inbox 🥰 ilyaaf

After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddie…who gets fired from his first job.

Because he’s great at sex, but bad at porn.

So, so, so bad. Like, he’s incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. We’re talking fully and wholly submerged in her folds, as though she’s his breathing apparatus.

And that’s great for her, but terrible for camera.

They keep stopping him, telling him he has to pull it back, that they have to see her pussy and they can’t with his big head and bigger hair blocking their view. But much like a dog that’s been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer and moving back in little by little until he’s right back where he wants to be—and they’re yelling “CUT” and scolding him all over again.

And the girl is getting frustrated because, like, she’s about to actually come and she looks at the director with this look of pure desperation and ‘just do me this solid—please?’ in her eyes.

So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so it’s really obvious how real it really is.

And so they can move the fuck on already.

Then they’re filming the fucking, and once again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.

He’s not just slamming into her without any care; he’s not using her to get off; he’s trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her.

Like so good, she’s this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.

Her boyfriend of six years be damned.

And once they wrap, Eddie’s not exactly “fired” but he’s pretty sure he’s not getting called back.

Except then the movie comes out and BLOWS UP. People are obsessed. Women are buying it in droves (who knew women even watched porn??) and the VHS is back-ordered to shit.

So the production company is like, “We gotta lock this kid into a contract. Now.”

And just so we’re clear, he gets that contract.

But he (rightfully) feels like he has a bit of juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again. And they agree to his terms, but that first guy is hardly an anomaly and Eddie is still butting heads with these other ass hats who keep trying to force him to do it their way.

“My buddy, my guy, my man, you’re fucking her like she’s a person and that’s not gonna sell. It may have worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.”

So Eddie walks. And he’s ready to call it quits entirely…until you approach him.

Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. So you went to the heads of production and told them even if all they gave you was a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson, you can spin some gold. Spoiler alert—you do.

You come to Eddie with your vision of porn for women: story-based, more realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. Some of the same tropes, but done in a way that doesn’t feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless. Something new.

Something different. Something special.

And, oh. He is so on board with that.

Meanwhile, back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling. Because how in the hell did Eddie “The Freak” Munson become a sex symbol overnight? It has to be a deal with the devil—that’s the only possible explanation, right? He clearly sold his soul for a magic cock and a porn career.

And Steve Harrington is LIVID.

He would have bet his entire college tuition Eddie was a virgin, but now every babe who comes into Family Video is renting that damn tape.

They’re literally pouring in looking for it, marching straight to the back, going behind that red curtain where normally only the creepers go. And they don’t so much as blush when Steve scans it.

Robin teases him about it mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, he’ll pick up some new moves. And, like, Steve has watched plenty of porn. He can’t imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. There’s only so much to it, you know? People must just be caught up in the novelty of it being someone that they kind-of sort-of know. It will wear off, it has to.

Then he watches it.

And, oh…Steve has been doing sex all wrong.

For one, he wasn’t going down on girls. He just wasn’t. He’s not like…against it, or anything. But he sort of didn’t realize that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fuck’s sake—what did he know besides porn and magazines? And that was all the same, so wasn’t that what girls wanted? (Oh, you sweet summer dingus, Robin would shake her head and lament later.)

Secondly…the girls he was with never sounded like that. And he never realized just how fake all those other “orgasms” in porn sounded until he heard the real deal. Now he can’t un-hear it.

From that day forward, for almost two months, they are short one copy of Eddie’s tape because Steve snuck it home in his bag one night after closing. For research purposes only.

No, seriously.

Eddie is a fucking star. Literally.

The second you and he get together, (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like a long-laid plan plotted from a distant corner of the vast universe has finally come to fruition.

Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, it’s a hit.

The concept isn’t anything crazy—Eddie shows up to deliver a pizza, and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for a poker game her boyfriend is hosting. He canceled date night for it and she’s been sitting out here all alone while they play in the other room.

Not on Eddie’s watch.

He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriend’s pizzas go cold on the countertop. You push the camera in close on both of them, really trying to give the sense of Eddie as a person. So he’s not just another disembodied guy with a nice dick.

Although his is very, very nice.

His personality shines through when he does things like hike her leg up to fuck into her pussy deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own; and when he grins down at her all devilishly as she tries to stifle her sounds so her “boyfriend” won’t hear; or when Eddie mocks her, making her own little whines and huffs and squeals right back at her in a way that is so infuriatingly hot.

He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans, until at last she can’t hold it back any longer and explodes.

And you have the sound guy stand off to the side and call out, “Everything okay in there, babe?” after she’s done. Nothing but a shuddering, trembling mess on a black leather sofa.

Cut. Print. That’s a wrap, folks.

Eddie is a dream to work with. He’s collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.

It’s alarming, almost. To be seen so clearly.

Even short on crew, equipment, time, money—you can’t seem to fail when you’re together.

The one thing you’re never short on is actresses. Ever since Eddie’s first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) has spread. Rapidly. And since you know most of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience you’re trying to create. So Eddie trusts your judgment, completely.

He just waits for you to tell him who he’s fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.

The fucker has chemistry with everyone—down to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. He’s so charming and funny and considerate practically to a fault. He’s fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to when you wrap for the day. And afterwards, he’s checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay because he’ll be happy to.

It’s…completely and utterly disarming.

He has every right to be a full blown asshole. This entire venture hinges on him and his magic dick, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon. But he doesn’t ever stray from that unflagging decency that’s so rare in this industry.

And you pray he never will.

It’s Eddie who pitches your next film.

He’s got this notion of a good girl—a cheerleader—who’s having a hard time and goes looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.

(One guess who’s playing him.)

Except he’s not so mean and scary. He’s actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself in the heart and flailing around like a clown, throwing himself off the picnic bench you and he dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.

All part of the vision, he assured you.

They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything in direct contrast to her sweet, round face and bright pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistry’s off the charts, as usual. She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anything…stronger.

Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread out on this table in the middle of the forest.

It’s oddly lush and romantic with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that filters in through the branches—a foil to the lewdness of their acts and their wanton sounds.

And when they’re dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on gray weathered wood, they look almost like forest nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.

Especially with the leaves still clinging to Eddie’s hair from when he fell off the table.

Not for the first time, you feel a certain twinge of something that squirms low in the pit of your stomach while you watch them.

Except you’re not watching them…because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

After you wrap, he hangs back. Asks what you thought of the shoot while he helps break down the equipment. Blushes when you tell him you loved it and how good he looked. Explains how it was inspired by these daydreams he used to have about this one girl he knew in high-school.

And you almost, almost, ask him about her—but you’re cut off by a PA who runs up in a panic.

The studio is calling, and they’re pissed.

They’ve just gotten a look at the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner, unlimited use of their distribution channels. Full creative control and intellectual property rights to anything and everything.

Plus exclusive use of Eddie.

(Effectively nullifying that horseshit deal they originally gave him for a much, much better one.)

You know they’re gonna fight you on a lot of it—you swung big so you’d have plenty of room to negotiate—but it will all be worth it when they fold. Because you and Eddie have big plans.

You both know you’re onto something special and you’re in it together, to the end of the line.

Apparently, Eddie is also interested in editing.

He shows up to the production offices on a day he’s supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and an egg sandwich like a literal angel on earth.

An angel dressed like the devil, maybe. Because he’s got on this tank top with arm holes that’ve been stretched way, way beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos and the tops of his obliques. And you aren’t entirely sure why you’re getting all hot and bothered over a tank top when there’s not a single intimate inch of his body you haven’t already seen up close and personal through your viewfinder.

In fact, it’s the same body you’re watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago. And he’s wearing a whole lot less than a tank top.

You share a brief chuckle over it—the fact that his bare ass is flickering on three screens while you scroll through footage. And it’s not so much that it’s awkward, more like you’re mutually tickled by the fact that it’s not? There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two.

In a way, it’s like there never was.

He asks if you want any help, or if you mind him sitting in. He’s interested in the process, thinks it might help him on set too. There’s such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him, a real thirst to be better and to learn. It’s ridiculous it took him three tries to graduate.

You think it’s a great idea…at first.

But then you’re watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded grunts and groans of pleasure in your ears coming through your headphones that are starting to slicken with the sweat.

It’s all wildly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because (not for the first time) you can’t help but wonder how he makes all these women come the way they do.

“So, uh, what…what exactly are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, trying to cover the tremor in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way he’s using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose pushes firmly on her clit. Pretending not to notice your chest heaving with his every word.

“How do you even breathe?” you chuckle.

“I find my moments,” he says.

Smirks back. Winks.

And uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to rub his thumb over your bare skin through the hole in your jeans? When did his long, ringed fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did he start to lean further into your space? When did you get so wet?

He’s close now. It wouldn’t take anything for you to bridge the gap and let your lips meet his. You can’t, though. You don’t. Because it would be so…stupid. It would be wrong and bad, and it could jeopardize both of your careers. Everything you’re working towards, totally gone.

You’re starting the porn for women movement, here. You can’t fuck your first star!

And you don’t. You keep it professional. You tell him you’re going to call it a day and head home so he’ll do the same. But later that night, when he calls with some new ideas for a script, asking if he can run a few lines by you (just to know how it sounds out loud, you know?), and you wind up having the most insane, mind-blowing phone sex of your entire life…Well, that’s different.

That’s totally and completely different.

The next time you see him, it’s business as usual.

You knew it would be. You two are nothing if not consummate professionals, fully committed to this endeavor. Neither of you would dare let your goals be derailed by a silly little crush.

And it is just a crush. It has to be.

Just the natural result of working so closely with him; of seeing him so completely in his element; appreciating his work ethic and his creativity.

Not to mention the fact that you are consistently watching him have the hottest sex you’ve ever seen in your life. But that’s unrelated.

The next shoot is your biggest yet. It’s at this massive mansion that you’re dressing to look like a spa with two massage tables set up by the pool that looks like something straight out of a resort. Eddie is playing a masseur who offers a lonely, neglected housewife consolation in the form of his cock after her husband chooses work over their couples massage.

After the success of the pizza delivery tape, you think it’s best you lean hard into the “Eddie fucks it better” sort of storylines.

Because why not play to your strengths?

Except that the call time of your female lead has come and gone and she’s nowhere to be found. You know Trina, this isn’t like her, she’s never late. But you called and got no answer. Twice.

The light is perfect, everyone’s in place…but there’s no one for Eddie to fuck.

Even if you could get a replacement, it would take at least an hour for anyone to get out here and that was being generous. By then, the shoot would be way behind and you’ve literally only got today in this stupid model home before some fucking billionaire moves in tomorrow.

It’s gonna be a massive loss of time and money if you don’t think of something. Like, right now.

Eddie can see you’re stressed. He comes over and you huddle by your storyboards. And neither of you has to say it, but you both are thinking the exact same thing. As per usual.

You could do it.

You’re here, for one. And you’ve done this plenty of times. It just makes good business sense.

It’s been a while, and you’re not quite “camera-ready” after not having to be for the past couple of months, but you and Eddie have been talking about using more normal-looking bodies; bodies that jiggled and had hair where it grew naturally and are authentically real, regular bodies.

The camera guys know what sort of shots you want and you’ve got a bigger crew now—people who know your vision and can help bring it forth.

Plus, you’ll be with Eddie. You know he’ll take care of you. He’ll be sure that you get exactly what you need, no matter what. You’d bet your life on it.And, well…you and he did just rehearse your lines the other night.

The shoot is…interesting.

From the outside, it goes great. Perfect, even. Eddie looks all kinds of cute in his white polo and white pants. He’s got his long hair twisted up off his neck, a few loose tendrils framing his face.

And you somehow forgot until he puts his hands on you the first time that the whole concept for this shoot was born out of the fact that he actually went to massage school for real.

Before you even get to the sex stuff, you’re putty in his hands. He moves them up and down your calves, slides his thumbs over your muscles in a dizzying pattern en route to your thighs.

You’re not even faking the deep moans of relief you let out as he moves up higher and higher… arousal promptly pooling between your legs.

He starts going through his lines, striking that perfect balance between his casual, trying-to-be professional voice, while slowly getting more and more desperate and possessive.

As if he’s constantly fighting the urge to take you right then. Right now.

Telling you how awful it is your husband chose work over you like this; how you should always be his number one priority; how Eddie would never let you out of his sight if you were his…

His hands reach your ass and he grips one round globe in each, spreading you apart so he (and the camera) can see how you glisten, the sunlight reflecting like it does off the water in the pool.

You wait for his next line—when he offers you a very ‘special’ massage with a ‘special’ technique he ‘doesn’t use on just anyone.’

But Eddie goes off script.

He licks a fat, wide stripe directly through your folds and your head pops out of the little headrest at the end of the table, the pure shock and delight on your face captured instantly by the camera.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, his tongue still swirling in between the words muffled by your ass cheeks, like he can’t stand to take it away, even to speak. “I had to taste you…”

“It’s okay,” you moan, voice nearly cracking in a dry sob, “It’s okay, just please don’t stop—”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going until you come, until you’re reaching back behind you to grip his hair as you push your hips back to meet every thrust of his perfect tongue. From there, it’s back to regularly scheduled fucking. He stays on script, peppering in the sort of ad-libs he knows from experience get a good reaction every time—

That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.

Your husband doesn’t know what he’s missing.

This pussy is all mine now, you understand?

And, yeah, that stuff gets you off, no problem. But it’s the other stuff he does—the quieter, subtle things you aren’t expecting—that really push you over the edge again and again. And again.

It’s the things he whispers (actually whispers, not stage whispers) low in your ear so you’re the only one who can hear. You feel way too good/I gotta slow down or I’m gonna come/I know you faked that last one, gimme a real one now—

It’s…it’s almost too much. You knew he’d be good, you just didn’t expect how good.

And you definitely didn’t expect to feel the way you do when he checks in between takes: asking if you want more or less of anything, making sure he’s not being too rough, telling you how great you’re doing, apologizing again for that initial snafu. It makes you all…fluttery.

But it’s not until after you wrap for the day, after you’ve gotten in the shower at home and start to wash off the massage oil spread all over your skin, that you realize Eddie never kissed you.

Not once.

When Eddie calls later that week, it’s to ask you out. Not on a date, though.

Which is good. Really, it is. A relief, even. Because contrary to the way your heart leapt into your throat when he asked if you were busy this weekend, you absolutely cannot date him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re attracted to him. Or that you came out of your eyeballs multiple times with him the other day. Or that you haven’t been able to think about anything besides him since.

You. Can’t. Date.

You’re pretty much his boss, don’t forget. Maybe not technically, maybe not on paper—but if you start something up with him, it will be messy and complicated and it could put everything you and he have worked for in jeopardy. More than that, you don’t want anyone thinking he got where he is by any other means besides his hard work (pun intended). He’s earned everything he’s gotten.

And now that includes an award.

That’s what he’s calling about. He’s been nominated for what is essentially the porn equivalent of an Oscar for that first tape he made. And now he has to go to this ceremony, except he’s sort of freaking out because he’s never done anything like this before and he’s really nervous and he kind of needs you there because ‘you’re the only one I’m always comfortable with.’

So he asks if you’ll go with him. As friends.

And you say you will. And it’s fine. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this—FUCK.

Why does he have to be so hot? Showing up in a black Prada suit with a sheer shirt underneath? Almost as bad as wearing nothing under it at all. Worse, maybe.

It’s unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his torso, layered chains dangling low, hanging around that tree trunk of a neck you can’t stop wishing you could sink your teeth into, wrap a hand around—

Nope. Nope. You’re not going there. The only place you’re going tonight is these awards.

Except when you get there, the organizers don’t want you photographed with Eddie. At least not arriving together. People still aren’t familiar with you as a director, and you haven’t starred in a project in months. That’s practically a century in porn time.

Plus, the tape Eddie is nominated for you didn’t even work on. It wouldn’t make any sense.

Eddie is immediately poised to protest, but neither of you is given much of an opportunity. While you’re shuffled into the long line of people already being photographed in front of the venue, he’s being whisked away so he can walk with the girl he starred in that very first film with.

You know her, sort of. You did a group scene once upon a time. She’s a biter.

They even sneak him into her limo so it looks like they came together. He gets out first and then holds out a hand to help her, a storm of flash bulbs going off, making her jumpsuit sparkle.

And you tell yourself not to watch. You try to smile pretty for your own pictures and look like you are having a good time. Or at least not look like you’re chewing on glass. But it’s…difficult.

Especially when you look up at the worst possible time—the exact moment she places a dainty hand on his chest and he turns his face toward hers, their lips meeting for a long kiss.

Long enough for every camera there to capture it.And the very last shot they get of you that night is one of your back as you head inside to get a drink. Or ten. Trying not to think about this sour, putrid, inconvenient feeling in your chest.

Eddie should have walked with you.

He should have done a lot of things, actually.

He should have told those uppity event coordinators to fuck off. He should have ignored that girl from his first film when she whispered under her breath for him to look at her. He should have dodged that sticky, tacky kiss she planted on his lips without any kind of warning.

He should have asked you out for real instead of hiding behind this ‘as friends’ bullshit.

Maybe if he had, he’d be tasting your lipgloss instead of the glittery mess he was wiping off his chin. Maybe it would be your hand in his as you walked the carpet. And maybe it would be him getting you a drink and clinking his glass with yours instead of the guy you’re with right now.

Eddie knows him. Well, he doesn’t know him, he recognizes him from a tape with some absurd name like Sex Kittens 4 that featured a surprising amount of doggy style, considering the title.

Plus you in a never-ending stream of animal-print bikinis.

(He definitely did NOT go looking for every movie you’d ever made. No, that would be ridiculous. He just sort of…happened across one. Or five.)

And it’s not that he’s jealous—because there’s nothing to be jealous of. You met him doing a job. A job very much like the one you did with Eddie. You’re just catching up with an old coworker.

It’s fine. Totally fine. Did he mention it’s fine?

But then Tom Wanks put his hand on your hip, and before Eddie can take even a second to think, or to rationalize his actions, he’s striding up to you and taking your hand to drag you away.

The beaded fringe on your dress swishes noisily as he brings you with him behind a curtain that was set up as a backdrop for more photos. In the shadows behind it, your eyes glint a little meanly and your voice is barbed when you ask what the hell is the matter with him.

And he’s really not sure.

Because much like you, he’s not used to this; he’s not used to not saying exactly what is on his mind at any given time; he’s not used to holding anything back—not when it comes to you.

“I should have stayed with you,” he blurted out at last. “That was messed up, I—”

Your face falls and you dodge his gaze. “It’s fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it,” he shot back. “I could have said something, I could have told them—”

“What for?” you mutter, arms crossing in front of your chest. You look at the floor, hurt. Not just hurt, disappointed. “I mean, what…what would be the point? It’s not like we’re…or that you’re…”

He watches the words stall behind your lips, all of them trying to fight their way out like people on a crowded bus. But in their efforts, they only wind up clogging the exit so nothing gets through.

“God, listen to me!” you laugh bitterly. “I sound like some crazy, jealous…something, and I don’t know why I’m getting this upset when you don’t even like me—”

“Wait, what? Who the fuck said that?”

He can tell you’re shocked by the panic that rises in his voice, staring back at him wide-eyed.

“Wh-when we were filming, you never kissed me. So I thought…”

You fell silent as Eddie’s hands covered the sides of your face. Softly cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he stares straight into your eyes and determinedly holds your gaze.

Your breath stuttered, so lost in those deep brown pools you could hardly recall your own name. And even if you could speak, you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say.

Luckily, Eddie gave you something better to do with your mouth.

His lips meet yours in a gentle brush. His hold on your face never tightens, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like he’s resisting the urge to grip you harder. There’s a tenacity in his kiss, as if he’s trying to savor the taste of you, but struggling not to devour you whole.

You break apart too soon for his liking. He easily would have stayed there forever. And he braces himself for whatever might be coming—a slap across his face, a knee straight to his balls.

He might deserve both, but receives neither.

You don’t pull back so much as an inch, happy to let him keep your face close to his. He inhales shakily, still breathing you in, “I didn’t want the first time I did that to be on camera.”

You chuckle at him, dazed and grinning, trying to decide if this is a dream or not. If it is, you don’t ever want to wake up. You want to live in it. Your own hands creep up his stomach, tugging on his silky shirt, feeling the way he shivers in it when he feels the caress of your fingertips.

“What about the second?” you whisper.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Deeper. Hungrier. Messier.

He’s not kissing you like it’s his job; like he’s just doing what was written for him in a script—he’s doing it like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, desired, chosen to do. Like it’s all he needs.

Your bare back meets the cool wall as he pushes you up against it, sliding his hand inside the slit of your dress, hooking it under your knee to hitch your leg over his hip. He presses every single inch of himself against your seam, harder than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life.

The closest second being when you and he filmed just a few days ago.

You claw at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, pulling open more buttons on his shirt until the gossamer fabric tears and unravels.

“More,” he begs, kisses trailing down your neck. “Fucking please, sweetheart, I need more—”

Your hand takes on a life of its own, sliding down to cup his length through the luxurious suiting. It causes him to release a deep, desperate moan you can feel his lips spreading apart to let out. The sound of it ripples through your body like an electric shock in every extremity.

The dull roar of the crowd right on the other side of that curtain is only barely enough to cover the sound of you and Eddie’s passions. His touch is so enthralling, so engrossing, you are this close to letting him fuck you right there.

Room full of people be damned.

Eddie seems to have the same idea, his mouth blazing a trail down the middle of your chest and stomach as he drops to one knee, his other foot planted to support himself as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. A rush of excitement floods your body as you realize his intentions, fingers sliding into his unruly curls to grip them at the crown of his head.

But the very second his fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue finds its home in your folds, a commotion breaks through your bliss.

There’s a loud crash as a cater waiter stumbles into the curtain obscuring your entangled bodies and drags it down with them as they fall.

Light floods the darkened space and a sound of collective amusement ripples through the crowd. No one is exactly surprised to see people hooking up—but it’s usually not until the afterparty.

Cocktail hour isn’t even over, for crying out loud.

Then they realize who it is.

The shutters of opportunistic photographers snap as you give Eddie’s hair a sharp tug. But he just moans loudly—too absorbed in what he’s doing to even realize what’s happened.

Finally, you pull him off your clit and he looks over his shoulder at the rest of the room.

Another round of snaps and flashes go off and his eyes return to yours, brightening when he sees the way you’re covering your mouth, fighting back laughter. His own lips, still shiny with your arousal, spread into a wide grin. His gaze lands on an emergency exit and he jumps to his feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards it tucked securely under his arm.

Flipping off the room behind him as you leave.

Together.

The trip back to your apartment is the longest cab ride of your life.

Whereas on the way to the convention center, you’d ridden mashed against your door trying to leave a respectable distance across the middle seat, Eddie practically has you in his lap on the way back. It’s like he thinks he’ll die if he stops touching you for even a second—lips on your neck, his hands roaming hungrily, whispering filth in your ear under the cover of the radio.

You do your best to catch the driver’s eye in the rearview, trying to shoot him an apologetic look or at least mouth a wholly insincere ‘sorry’ for the display. But he seems unphased.

Still, you stuff a wad of extra bills in his hand as you scramble out of his car. Unceremoniously crashing through the front door, you’re lucky not to break it down in your haste to get Eddie inside.

Of your apartment, that is.

Lips locked for every step across your cramped studio, you tumble to the bed and let out a soft grunt when a plastic hanger digs into your back. Hearing you yelp, Eddie pulls back and can see you’re lying on top of the ten or so discarded outfits you went through trying to decide on what to wear tonight. Sequins rustle under your bodies as the bed shakes with your gentle laughter, and Eddie drops a kiss to the tip of your nose before he climbs off you. Reluctantly.

He watches while you gather the dresses strewn across the bed, smiling when you try and stuff them back in your closet, fumbling with only the amber street light filtering through your blinds to see by. When you finally turn back to face him, he’s still smiling. Head tilted at you, eyes slowly raking over your form, heart rate picking up in his chest when yours do the same to him.

The pause is nice. It gives you both a minute to catch your breaths, for your brains to catch up with your bodies. Your steps turn careful and slow as you move towards him. With trembling fingers, he pulls open the last remaining buttons of his sheer shirt and lets it fall to his feet.

Remembering only just now that his jacket is still on the floor of that hotel ballroom.

You come to a stop in front of him and he closes the distance left. He reaches around you and pulls down the zipper of your dress, fingertips dragging lightly along your spine as he reveals it.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to feeling like a gift someone is unwrapping.

With your dress pooled around your ankles, Eddie’s hands are free to wander. He runs them up and down your arms, sweeping them along the inside of your wrists to twine your fingers with his. He brings them to his lips to kiss and the sight of plush pink brushing your knuckles is bordering on being too much to handle—more erotic than anything you’ve ever filmed.

He’s going slow because it’s slowly dawning on him what you’re about to do.

And how this time it’s not going to be for work or for a camera. It’s going to be real.

Except…is it going to be real?

Should he do something different than what he did when you filmed? How can he, when he used all his best moves during the shoot? Shit…

He doesn’t want you thinking he’s just doing with you the same thing he does with everyone else; that this—that you—aren’t special to him.

Then suddenly, he’s not going slow anymore.

He’s stopped completely.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out, like the word is made of sawdust. “I just, ahhh…I don’t know, I think I’m psyching myself out? Thinking too hard.”

“Thinking about what?” you whisper, your teeth tugging back your bottom lip.

His head just shakes, eyes still scanning your face while his thumb lightly strokes your jaw, until he lets out a sigh that’s heavy with fondness and whispers, “How I don’t want to mess this up.”

He takes another deep breath, letting his forehead rest against your own as his chest shudders. Confounded as to how something he’s done in front of a whole-ass camera crew could make him feel so self-conscious when it’s just you here with him. A few seconds of silence pass until his lips part in a smirk and his gaze cuts to the side, right to where a camera would be.

“Is it just me…or does it feel like something is missing?”

It takes a few minutes of digging to find your old camcorder buried in the depths of your closet.

Eddie chuckles when you emerge, brandishing it with a flourish and a little ta-da! before you set it on top of your dresser pointed at the bed, angling it slightly to properly frame the shot.

The red light blinks as you hit ‘record,’ barely taking a second to check if there’s a tape inside. You let it run, capturing your figures half in shadows as he sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap. He helps you settle on his thighs, runs his hands up the backs of yours, slips his long fingers under the elastic band of your panties to rest on your hip. He pulls them back and snaps them softly on your skin, earning a hum of approval from behind your pressed lips.

You wriggle on top of him and delight in how it makes his chest reverberate with a low groan.

“That better?” you whisper, the answer to your question immediately stiffening underneath you. He nods fervently, his voice tight and strained as he struggles to keep his cool.

“Wanna taste you,” he grunts out roughly.

He moves his hands to grip your waist so he can flip you underneath him, but your hands find his shoulders and stop him before he can.

Big, doleful eyes look up at yours, his face etched with concern as you shake your head. His bottom lip wobbles as he searches your face for why.

In a reassuring press, you mash your lips to his and lace your fingers behind his neck. You kiss all the air out of his lungs, until his fingertips are digging into your flesh hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises. You kiss him like you’re trying to take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like you’re going to accept his every burden as your own so he doesn’t have to carry them alone.

There’s a quiet pop as your mouths separate and you press your chest flush with his, wrapping your arms around his neck so your lips find his ear as your nose nudges through his curls.

“Tell me you want me,” you whisper. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I don’t want it,” he groans back, “I need it. I’ve needed it since I fucking met you.”

The heat in his voice, the rumble of it in your ear, causes a wave of arousal to rush through your body. You unwind your arms from around his neck and slip slowly, painfully slowly, from his lap to stand between his legs. You place a finger under his chin and tip his face up for him to look at you, your thumb settling in the tiny dip at its center. Too small to see, it could only be felt.

“Everyone always uses you,” you tell him softly, almost mournfully.

His eyes stay wide and hopeful, never leaving yours as you sink down to your knees. His long, dark lashes flutter as your hands run up his muscled thighs, the edges of your thumbs grazing the outline of his cock. He hisses through his teeth and you grin devilishly at the sound.

“I want you to use me,” you instruct him. “Take whatever you need, as much as you want.”

And you can literally see how your words affect him, his eyes bugging wide as the wheels in his head are turning behind them. He reaches out to touch your face and you turn it to kiss his palm.

“Sweetheart, I—oh, fuck,” he gasps, cut off with your sudden squeeze of his clothed cock.

“I’ll stop you if I need a break,” you reply firmly.

The muscles in his neck pull taught as he nods. He leans back on one elbow, reluctant to let his other hand leave your face. You kiss his bare stomach along the top of his waistband and he curls his hand around the back of your head, gripping it tighter when you tug down his fly.

And you knew Eddie’s dick well by now. You knew it inside of you as well as out. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for the sight of it tonight. Thick, and veiny, and weeping with pre that dribbles down its sides. He’s almost ashamed of it, almost embarrassed by how hard he is for you; by how close he is to blowing his load when you’ve not even gotten started.

It was practically a miracle he didn’t soil the inside of his suit when you pulled his hair earlier.

His pupils are blown out when your eyes meet his, your lips hovering so close to his cock he can feel your breath on it. Saliva pools under your tongue so rapidly, you almost feel like you’re at risk of it spilling out of your mouth and running down your chin when you speak.

“Fuck my throat, Eddie. Please.”

And he does. He lets you set the pace at first, still holding fast on the back of your head he watches your lips surround his tip. His chest heaves with deep, gasping breaths as you take him fully into your mouth and start to bob on his perfect cock. It’s almost too much, too perfect, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth and your soft tongue and, fuck, your hand—

He pants wildly as you cradle his sack, your fingertips stroking them and spreading the spit from your mouth that’s dribbling down his shaft to his balls. They tense in your palm and his stomach tightens the faster your mouth moves, the more your throat relaxes to take him in deep.

The man who gives the best head imaginable finally having the favor returned.

“Jesus Christ…”

Eddie's words are whispered like a prayer and you look up to take in the sight of him.

Eyes pinched shut, his brows drawn like he’s in pain even though the sounds he’s releasing are nothing short of euphoric. You tease all the most sensitive nooks and crannies of his cock, all the places that make his eyes roll back and his head loll on his shoulders and his chest heave. Every ridge, every vein, every muscle that twitches under the attention of your tongue.

“Oh, pl…p-please,” he gasps, tightening his hold on your hair to still your movements as his hips start to move in an instinctive and primal thrust.

He hits the back of your throat and you swallow more of him down, taking him deeper, deeper until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base.

You groan around his length, enthralled by the exquisite ache of him hitting your soft palate, and the sound is Eddie’s undoing. He lets out a long, low moan and spills hot and thick down your throat. His arm trembles as he fights his own iron grip on the back of your head, forbidding himself from pulling your hair. You can feel the tremors of his fingers against your scalp.

His abdomen spasms as you stroke him through the aftershocks, flirting with overstimulation. Fucked-out eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepy, but nothing short of reverent, find yours and they’re wet—shiny, shimmering with tears that crowd their rims and threaten to spill down his cheeks.

Quick as you can, you’re on your feet cradling his jaw to ask if he’s okay. And Eddie can’t answer, can only nod as he kisses, kisses, kisses your palm, the heel of your hand, your wrist, down the inside of your arm all the way to your elbow.

He can’t kiss you enough, it seems.

You giggle softly as you sit beside him and reach out to ruffle his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and letting your touch linger on his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you brush a tear that has leaked out of the corner of his eye. He looks back at you with a smile and swipes the pad of his thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away a drop of his spend.

And you know there’s still a lot left to figure out—damage control that will have to be done, difficult conversations that will have to be had. There will be whispers and rumors and sidelong glances.

Not to mention the firestorm those pictures of you two at the ceremony will undoubtedly stir up.

But none of that matters right now. Nothing does, beyond this bed and this night. Nothing else even exists outside the confines of this room.

All that matters is you and him.

You lay there for a while, just…being. Your fingers tracing his tattoos and the soft planes of his chest and stomach; his, the slope of your shoulders and the lines of your body he’s always wanted to know better. Quiet words pass back and forth, teasing jokes and soft confessions. Admissions of fears that held you both back and don’t seem so daunting anymore. Don’t seem so scary.

When he’s hard again, you pick up the camera and point it at him as you guide him to lay on his back. You push in close on his face when you sink down fully onto his length and start to ride him at an egregiously slow pace just so your shot holds steady. And because he looks so pretty taking it.

“Something wrong, Ed?” you goad him a smidge, toying with him in more ways than one when your pussy squeezes so tight around his cock it makes him lose his breath and pant out of control.

“F-fu…fuuuuuck meeee…” he whines and writhes, throwing his head back into the mattress.

“Oh,” you chuckle at him, speeding up just a hair, “I’m sorry, is that not what I was doing?”

His head jerks up, eyes ablaze as he stares you down through the camera lens. You peer at him over the top of the viewfinder and shiver despite the thin layer of sweat building on your skin.

Okay, yeah, that might have been a little too far. Or just far enough, you think, almost giddy.

“Nah,” he growls, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Sorry is what you’re gonna be.”

A loud squeal bursts out of you as he rolls your bodies to the side and pins you underneath him, somehow managing to keep himself seated inside you the whole time. Breathless, you watch as he takes the camera from you and practically tosses it away so he can hold your arms over your head. For a while, all it captures is a blurry close-up of your duvet cover, the frame shaking in time with every deep, solid thrust of Eddie’s hips that rattles the entire bed and you in it when he gets going.

Your moans and his grunts mix in a symphony that will surely earn you some side-eyeing from your neighbors tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to give a single ounce of a shit.

The song that you make together swells to a crescendo as you topple over the precipice you’ve been dangling off the edge of practically from the moment you met him. Eddie fumbles like mad for the camera and picks it up, recording your blissful expression before he swoops in to press his lips back to yours. Kissing you like he’s trying to eat you, like he’s trying to fuse your faces.

You’re certainly not complaining.

And now that he’s the one with the camera, he’s eager to keep going. He pans it up and down your whole body, guiding you into every filthy position he’s been imagining all those long nights alone in his bed. Through his eyes behind the lens, there’s not a single angle on you that isn’t pristine.

He gets you up on all fours, films tight on your ass as he squeezes it and cracks his palm down on it when he lets go. The sting makes you keen, your back arching as your hips thrust back—seeking more, more. His hand then smooths over your buzzing flesh, soothes the ache he’s made.

And even as you’re making it, you can tell this is not just another sex tape.

It’s a love tape.

thank you for reading — love you, mean it! 🏝��

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #stranger things

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dovveri · 3 months ago

Text

strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

#momo #twice momo #hirai momo #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #momo smut #twice momo smut #hirai momo smut #twice x reader #twice imagines #momo imagines #twice smut #dovveri

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gothcsz · 6 months ago

Note

imagine javier peña as a pornstar holy shit-

Summary: You're a camerawoman that shoots pornos. Javi's the pornstar you can't stand. So why is it that you're so affected by him during this honeymoon scene between him and his co-star?

Tags: smut, voyeurism(?), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), no use of Y/N, reader doesn't fuck javi in this i'm sorry, yes it's steve murphy as the sound guy, unbeta'd asf we're here for the dirty vibes, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: well my beloved, this spiraled into something i wasn't expecting but i hope you enjoy, hehe 🖤 shoutout to my lovely mutual @almostempty for summoning the threesome demon that inspired me to finish this.

You’re not a prude. Sex isn’t aversive to you. And you suppose it can’t be considering what it is that you do for work.

A camerawoman for dirty films. Not a director, just the lucky girl that points and shoots. It’s not a bad gig, even though sometimes you do wish it paid a little more. Then you’d be able to drop your bartending job.

Recording people fucking all day then tending the bar all night, you rarely ever have time for yourself or any of the hobbies that you’ve attempted to start but haven’t nurtured simply because there aren’t enough hours in the day.

During your downtime, you’re either sleeping or tending to your shit apartment that’s conveniently located above Lucky’s–– your night job. The only reason you can afford to live in Los Angeles is because of the cheap rent there and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

You hit the button on the elevator, currently taking you to the sixth floor of the surprisingly nice hotel the production company has booked a room in for tonight’s shoot.

Once you make it to room 606, you’re greeted by Steve, the sound guy. “You’re early.”

“Daddy got us a new toy and I wanted to test it out before we shot.” There’s a playful smile on your lips as you carefully show off the brand new camera bag with the device inside.

Steve whistles lowly, stepping aside to let you into the room. Looks very typical. Nice, grand bed in the center of the space. Desk, television stand, blah blah blah, and a bar cart.

You suavely make your way towards it, eyeing the small bottles that littered the glass top.

“Surprised you even got that thing. He’s as cheap as they come.”

You shrug, uncapping the small Fireball plastic bottle and swiftly downing it, the burn familiar and taste delicious. “I know, but considering how much money we’re making him, maybe he’s starting to realize our worth.”

You both share a knowing look then laugh. As if. That man would find any way to cut a corner. It’s honestly surprising how well his pornos do.

“Who are we shooting today?” You ask casually, beginning to set out the camera and all its attachments neatly on the desk.

“Lexxie Gold and…” He trails off, lanky form walking over to where his equipment is half set up, pulling out a tattered notebook that he flips through until he lands on the intended page. “Javier Peña.”

You can’t help the grimace that crosses over your face. Great. You’ve shot Peña a few times, each with a story that reminds you how much you dislike the guy.

Sure he seems to be a good fuck— but man was he cocky, annoying, and so damn full of himself.

Just because you have the biggest dick in the world, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

“How fun.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on the blonde man across from you and he doesn’t press— knowing you don’t get along with the star.

You curiously start messing around with the camera, flitting through its different settings, taking random videos of Steve as he finishes setting up while you chastise him playfully from the other side.

Your fucking around is disrupted by a heavy knock on the door then the familiar voice of your boss and the director, Robbie, and you let him in with a brief hey.

The scene is simple enough: a honeymoon. How romantic. He wants to focus on close ups, hence why he bought the new camera.

“Gotta show them how pretty and erotic it really is.”

“I don’t really think they’re watching for the riveting cinematography.”

He shoots you a look and you raise your arms defensively before shrugging your shoulders and getting back to making some last minute camera adjustments.

Steve helps you finish dressing the place up, making the hotel room look like a lover’s getaway. Rose petals everywhere, moody lighting, it helps that the sun has fully set to really set the scene.

Not long after do Lexxie and Javier show up, his arm thrown around her shoulders, seemingly having met up on the ride up the elevator. She’s giggling over something he’s whispered in her ear, pushing at his chest playfully.

You suppose that’s why he’s so good at what he does— that goddamn charisma that seems to charm the underwear off of any woman, hell even some men, that cross his path.

His chemistry with his co-stars is what’s made him so popular in the industry. Aside from his appearance: cut jaw, full and fitting pornstache, golden lean body and nice cock; Javier ate pussy like his life depended on it and fucked women into oblivion— he usually ended up leaving set with one on his arm.

You remember one time his prowess had been so magnetizing, that he ended up taking the makeup artist home. The fucking makeup artist.

But things with you are different, somehow. You can feel it, he can too. Maybe it’s because you’re a no bullshit type of person that just shows up to do your job then you’re out.

In the beginning, he had attempted to flirt with you, but you weren’t really in the market to reciprocate.

A shock to anyone who meets him because what do you mean you didn’t jump at the chance to be charmed by Javier Peña?

You don’t mix business with pleasure, no matter if the pleasure seems to outweigh the business.

And since then he’s made it his life’s mission, it feels like, to push your buttons until you’re lit up like a fucking soundboard.

The flirting, petty comments, sometimes weaponized incompetence just to get you to move the camera into a more desirable position for him— yeah it really irks you.

With it being a simple, smaller shoot today: it’s only you, the director, Steve and the two stars in the room.

As Lexxie finishes doing some last minute touch ups in the bathroom, Steve and Robbie head out to the balcony for a quick smoke, leaving you in the room with Javier as he checks his appearance in the full-length mirror by your equipment.

The shoot is starting with them already half undressed, so he’s got an unbuttoned white collared shirt on, his toned chest on full display, with a pair of dress pants hanging low on his hips. He’s not wearing underwear, so you get a peek of the prominent V of his pelvis and the enticing trail of dark hair leading below the fabric.

Goddamn him.

“Lookin’ like somethin’ crawled up your ass and died, sweetheart. All good?” He asks, no real concern in his voice but the typical condescending tone he uses when he speaks to you.

You ignore him, wiping off the lens of your camera, lowkey wanting to down another small bottle of liquor.

“It’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not exactly thrilled to have your balls slapping against my new camera.”

He smirks at the bite in your voice, “With the amount of times you’ve seen my sack, I figured you’d be used to that by now.” You roll your eyes and bite your tongue because he’s right and that wasn’t the best retort you could have given him.

You’ll admit, sometimes his attractiveness throws you off and that only pisses you off further.

“New camera, huh?” His eyes meet yours in the reflection, thick brows raising in amusement, “Honored to be the one to christen it. ‘Specially with Lexxie.” He whistles lowly, brown eyes flickering over to the cracked door of the bathroom, “She’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she?”

You ignore him again so you don’t get tongue tied by trying to outwit him, breathing out a sigh of relief when Steve and your boss reenter and the older man begins to throw out orders for everyone to follow.

“I want this to feel real. Aside from the close ups, I need some filthy, dirty talk. Sell it, make those horny bastards bust their load over the believable newlyweds.”

Lexxie is leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, a beautiful white lingerie set on her curvy body, obscured by a silk robe.

You’re both jealous of her for looking so goddamn pretty and jealous of Javier for having the pleasure of getting to fuck her.

“We’re not amateurs, Robbie.”

Okay, so maybe Javier isn’t all that bad and you do tend to overreact sometimes.

It’s just hard not to, he has a penchant for getting under your skin like no other. Kind of like the annoying boys you used to go to high school with that would relentlessly tease you for being you.

No time to project your insecurities. You’re at work, you remind yourself, listening intently as your boss turns to you and begins to describe how he wants you to shoot the scene.

Intimate. Very. Intimate.

He yells action and the scene begins to play out naturally.

Lexxie stands by the window, her white silk robe loosely tied around her waist, revealing glimpses of her smooth, brown skin. The moonlight accentuates her curves, making her look like a vision of desire against the backdrop of the shimmering city.

Javier watches her from the bed, gaze dark with anticipation. He can’t take his eyes off her, the way the silk clings to her body, hinting at the treasures beneath.

She turns to him, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and slowly walks toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

Steve holds the boom mic above them, out of the camera’s view, as you follow Lexxie’s movements with careful precision, zooming in on her long legs then panning up to her thick thighs.

As she reaches the bed, she unties the belt of her robe, letting it fall open. Javier licks his lips, the outline of his cock prominent against the fabric of his pants.

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips, her hands gliding over his chest.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.” Her voice is a sultry whisper as she traces her fingers along Javier’s jawline. “I can’t believe we’re finally here, just you and me.”

There’s a lopsided smile on his lips, large hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. “You look incredible, baby. Couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. My pretty wife.”

She leans in, her breath warm against his ear. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.” Her words are a teasing challenge, her teeth biting down on his earlobe.

He groans softly, hands roaming over her curves. “I want to touch you, taste you. Feel you shiver under my hands, hear you moan my name.” His voice drops to a near-growl. “I want to make you mine, over and over again.”

You’re on the bed with them, knees digging into the comforter as you hold the camera at eye level, the small screen that extends from it giving it that grain that makes it look even more erotic.

All of this is beginning to feel too intimate but you block that out, even if it’s fucking hard to. This is what your boss wanted, anyways.

You feel your clit pulsing, heat pooling at your core as you watch them and it’s infuriating.

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she kisses him deeply, her tongue dancing with his and you make sure to get a good shot of it. “Then take me. Show me why I married you.” She pulls back slightly, her gaze locked with his.

He pulls her closer, his lips capturing hers in another passionate and hungry kiss. They’re absolutely unbothered by your presence.

“I’m going to worship every inch of you.” His tone is thick with promise, bringing his hand up to wrap around her neck. “I want to hear you scream for me, break that little throat then soothe it with my cum.”

Your breath hitches at his words and for the life of you, you don’t understand why you’re being so affected by this.

While faint, he hears your reaction and you don’t miss the subtle smirk that tugs at those pink, pouty lips of his.

“Yes. I want you. I need you. Fuck me like it’s our last night on earth.” Her words are a plea, filled with raw desire and feigning love.

A little corny, but what the hell, that’s half the appeal of these things anyway.

Their bodies press together, the heat between them palpable that you can feel it from where you are.

Her fingers tangled in Javi’s hair as she deepens the kiss, her body moving rhythmically against his.

The passion they exacerbate is undeniable, an electric charge that ropes you in as you move the camera closer, igniting your every nerve.

His skilled fingers move to pull down the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts and he uses his hold on her neck to tilt her back slightly, leaning down to wrap his lips around her stiff nipple. He suckles on it, drawing out a moan from the star on his lap as his wet tongue darts out to flick rapidly against the pebbled flesh.

He does the same to the other, you following his movements and your own nipples hardening, the friction of them rubbing up against your sports bra with each deep breath you take enough to gradually turn you on even more.

After lavishing her chest with his attention, leaving her tits glistening with a layer of his spit, he goes to kiss her again and they share more of that porny dialogue that usually makes you cringe.

But not today.

Not as you watch how they touch up on each other, the way he slowly releases his hold on her neck and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders then shimmies down his body, pulling his pants down and revealing his cock.

You’ve seen it dozens of times, it shouldn’t phase you (just as how he reminded you of earlier), but fuck— with the way you’re so heated right now by unofficially being part of this twosome, you can’t help how your mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

It’s got just the right amount of hair surrounding it, looking real heavy and swollen with arousal as she wraps her fingers around it.

You move down to get a good POV shot, bending at the waist and accidentally wagging your ass in his face.

While Lexxie begins to blow him, showcasing her skill to the camera, Javier’s eyes are glued to your ass and how good it looks in the jean shorts you’re wearing.

You can feel it, his stare heavy as lead, as one of his hands comes down to make a makeshift ponytail of the woman’s curly hair while the other just barely grazes the back of your thighs.

If you weren’t so hyper aware of his touch, you would have missed it. Your hips involuntarily moving subtly and you play it off as you shuffling to get more comfortable to record the oral he’s currently receiving.

Sounds of her gagging and his grunts fill the room. Steve’s brows are furrowed in concentration, picking up every single thing and you pray that he doesn’t hear how ragged your breathing has become.

You didn’t even notice it until the camera in your hand started shaking just a little.

So unprofessional, this shoot is gonna haunt you for weeks.

But Robbie doesn’t seem to mind, and you wonder if you’re the problem with how Steve and him seem to be so locked in while you’re sitting here, all hot and bothered, trying not to think of Javier despite seeing his spit slick cock slipping in and out of her mouth so filthily.

The director orders them to switch and you try not to be too hasty when you move off the bed, allowing the couple to do as they’re told.

You avoid Javier’s eyes, the ones looking for yours, as he settles in between Lexxie’s spread legs.

He comments on how wet she is, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he begins to kiss her over the lacy fabric of her fancy panties.

There’s an obvious wet spot from both her slick and his saliva. You alternate, panning the camera from his ministrations, up her gorgeous body, then to capture the look of pure fucking bliss on her face.

She squeezes her tits, moaning obscenely as he pulls her underwear to the side and begins to suck and lick at her pussy— wet sounds of his lips smacking against her folds and clit has your own cunt dripping and the rough fabric of your jean shorts rubbing against your underwear is just embarrassingly pleasurable.

It’s like you can feel his tongue on you as it flicks over her flesh, her arousal coating his face and dampening his mustache.

Javier begins to finger her and the director urges you to get a closer shot of it, which you do and it has you so close to their intimacy; you can smell her pussy.

Your thighs clench.

She cums all over his fingers and he pulls back, traversing up her body slowly, his lips marking their path until he’s kissing her messily again before shoving those sinewy digits into her mouth, and she expertly cleans them off, not breaking eye contact with him.

You lick your lips, practically tasting her, and they’re directed to start off in missionary then end in doggy.

“Put her head on your lap, get a shot of her tits down with his torso in view. Lexxie, scream his name like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had inside you.”

“Won’t be hard to do. It is the best I’ve had.”

You roll your eyes at the smug smile that tugs at Javier’s lips at her words, that statement enough to calm you down as you shift into the optimal position, her head on your lap as Javier strokes his dick and rids her of her panties, leaving her with the cups of her bra still below her tits and the garter belt on her waist.

The white stockings brush up against his thighs as he hitches her legs up on his hips.

He begins to fuck her, each thrust sending her further up your body and you grip onto your camera as you zoom in on the way her body moves, her back arching and needy whimpers pushing past her plump, glossy lips.

Your eyes are glued to the small screen, his toned body looking like a sculpture and a thin sheen of sweat making him glow.

Yeah, this tape is going to fucking sell.

“Get over here and get a shot of her pretty pussy when I push her legs up.” Javier instructs you and you can’t help but drop your jaw at the audacity.

There’s an insult on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be lashed out but Robbie agrees and you fight the urge to fling the camera at him.

Javier senses your irritation and fucking smirks, but you pay it no mind (or at least try not to) as you move away from Lexxie, off the bed, and beside him.

He spreads her thighs and pushes her knees up to her chest, her pussy on full view as his cock continues to piston in and out of her.

It really is so hot. Usually, some stars would have to use lube to get the process going but not Javier. Never Javier.

He eats pussy so messily and knows just how to treat his girls, they’re usually fucking drenched and dripping by the time he’s ready to fuck them. He doesn’t need anything artificial to help him out.

Lexxie is moaning and spitting out pure filth as he continues to fuck her, you’re doing a good job at capturing it all.

Suddenly, Javi leans over to whisper into your ear.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, camera once more shaking slightly in your grasp and your skin warms. What the hell is his deal?

And why does the idea of being spread out like this for him suddenly so fucking enticing?

Your eyes flicker over to Steve, who both watched that little interaction happen and picked it up on his mic, an amused expression on his face.

You shoot him a look that basically translates to Don’t and he shakes his head lightly, holding back a snicker.

They’re directed to switch again, both stars getting closer to their orgasms, and you use this a chance to take a step back and fucking collect yourself. No doubt that your cunt is an absolute mess right now.

Maybe you’ll rub one out before going in tonight. That is if you have the time. Maybe if you’re not so tired after, you’ll pick up one of the men at the bar and use him to fuck Javier Peña out of your mind.

Now bent over, her ass and pussy are on full display. Javier, once more acting like he’s the goddamn director, moves aside so you can get a good shot of it. You do, bristling as he brushes against you whenever he gets back into position behind her, entering her pussy in one swift motion and beginning to fuck the shit out of her.

Jesus. Christ. It must be because of how fucking weird this shoot has been but man, is he giving it to her good.

A few delicious spanks are brought down to her ass, his large palm making the meaty flesh jiggle and he grunts loudly at how it feels against his dick.

There’s more dirty talk, him telling her how good this pussy feels and that it belongs to him now. Her doubling down and telling him that he’s the only cock she’s ever going to take.

You move below his spread legs, getting a good view of his heavy balls slapping against her clit, his precum and her arousal coating the flesh of his sack, the sound of it smacking against her is for sure going to make some poor soul release their spunk all over their keyboards or whatever it is that they’ll watch this on.

Getting more footage of their full bodies, you maneuver yourself all around the bed, knowing that when this sucker is edited together, it’s really going to feel like an intimate telling of a couple’s honeymoon night.

You’ll give it to Javi and Lexxie— they’re good at what they do.

She reaches her peak first, shouting that she’s coming and her body flails and tenses, squeezing his cock and gushing cum out of her hole.

You make the mistake of looking up at Javier, finding that he’s already staring at you and he growls, stilling inside her and filling her up with his load.

It’s like everything else melts and disappears, leaving just you two suspended in this moment. The way his brown eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite decipher has your entire body quivering and your heart beating wildly in your chest.

What the fuck is going on?

“Get the money shot!” Robbie barks at you, seeing that you’ve been lost in a fucking daze and you shake your head, snapping out of it and moving off the rose petal covered sheets, again moving next to Javier as he pulls out.

Lexxie positions herself sexily, and not long after does her pussy flutter and milky cum begins to seep out of it, an obscene squelching sound as it drips lazily onto her engorged clit then the mattress.

It’s so fucking hot, you’ll admit it. That’s the point of these things, isn’t it? To turn others on. You can’t blame yourself for the way its intended effect washes over you.

Except your mind is still hazy from how Javier had looked at you while coming inside of another woman.

The pornstar shakes her hips erotically, giggling as Javier smacks her ass.

“And cut. Great fucking job team. You guys just made me a whole lotta money.”

You quit recording, licking your lips and moving off the bed quickly, closing the camera and making a beeline to the other side of the room, not being shy about the way you snag up another travel sized bottle of Fireball and shoot it.

“Drinking on the job?” Javier tuts, walking over to you with his soft cock hanging between his legs and you do your best to not let your eyes drop down to it. He’s got an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. “Very unprofessional.”

Lexxie has disappeared off into the bathroom again to clean up, Steve and Robbie discussing who knows what.

“Yeah well.” You’re flustered and hate how you’re conveying it. He’s reveling in the sight of you. “I got thirsty.”

“Hmm,” he hums, gaze narrowing ever so slightly, “Camera like what it saw?”

You clench your jaw, turning from him to begin packing your stuff up. You don’t have time for this, for him. You need to leave and get ready for the bar.

“You heard Robbie— just made him a whole lotta money, so what do you think?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

You freeze, static in your brain like an interrupted television broadcast and your body feeling feverish. You need to get out of here.

“And you say I’m acting unprofessional.” You scoff, trying to act like you’re not affected by him and his stupid words and that dumb mustache and his fucking bare cock.

He snorts out a laugh, prepared to say something else to grate your nerves but you don’t give him a chance, slinging the strap of the camera bag over your shoulder and grabbing your purse, pushing past him.

“Alright, Robbie I’m out. I’ll swing by the office tomorrow and drop this off after I’ve reviewed the footage.”

You can see Javier from your peripheral, tight jeans up on his hips and moving out into the balcony to smoke.

You feel like you can breathe a little easier now.

“Sounds good. I’ll have your check for it then.”

You nod, saying bye to Steve who has a shit eating grin on his face. “You workin’ at Lucky’s tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there ‘round eleven for a beer… and to discuss whatever the fuck all that was.” He motions vaguely and you roll your eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“S’too damn bad. I drink Michelobs, by the way.”

Your face scrunches up, “I shouldn’t let you in based on that alone.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips at his reaction, but it’s all in good fun.

This little interaction is almost enough to make you forget about… all that. Almost. The door to the balcony slides open again and you take that as your cue to get the hell outta dodge.

“Alright, whatever, I’ll see you then. Hopefully we’re not too busy.”

You say goodbye to Lexxie over your shoulder, briskly walking down the hall to the elevator, looking forward to the cold shower you’re about to take to cool down your heated skin.

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #📞 next caller!

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b00tyliciousbabe · 5 months ago

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waves

pairing: surfer!bf x THICC!male reader

summary: oh, how i need a tall, curly headed goofball…

notes: HOPE MY LOVELIES ARE DOING WELL. trying to get through my requests, but this was a personal one of mine. slowly but surely y’all! as summer is coming to an end, it was SO necessary for me to feed my hot girl delusions at least a couple more times. also, enjoy the new style i have been experimenting with!

song rec: they. - diamonds and pearls

album rec: sabrina carpenter - short n sweet (my girl sabz ate so hard with this project, i just wish it was released in early aug so she could’ve rly CONQUERED summer 2024) THEE POP PRINCESS!

brief background:

your boyfriend was raised with a silver spoon; he’d never had to work a day in his life and everything he ever wanted, he got. well, everything except you. throwing money to impress people had worked on all of his other childhood crushes, but not you, which made him all the more determined to prove to you he wasn’t just some fuck boi the media painted him out to be. his family owned the richest resort in the carribean, and had hotels in every mega city worldwide. but wherever they travelled to, your man was never too far from a beach. call it fate, but the sea would always lead you back to him. it was where he first laid eyes on you; reading a very lengthy novel as you laid on the sand, watching your friends play in the water. after their surf practice, your mutual friends introduced the two of you and you were SMITTEN - but you couldn’t show your interest too soon. he too was whipped, and didn’t take nearly as much effort to hide it, practically drooling whilst staring at you. his mates would constantly ridicule him for his dazed expression around you, and he could never hear the end of the new nickname ‘bambi boy’ you gave him because he looked so cute when he was flustered. after weeks of regular conversation and a couple walks on the beach, he officially asked to be your boyfriend and you said yes.

when it came to finally introducing you to his family, they loved you almost as much as he did. he was the youngest of six and so he got the privilege of this. his parents especially were wishing y’all would stay together. they believed you were the perfect match for their goofball of a son.

core memory sfw:

the first time he said ‘i love you’ with TRUE meaning; you were always worried that you were just one fuck away from being forgotten, but your man made sure to constantly affirm his love for you. he brought you the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers, and stood outside in the pouring rain, playing a mixtape he’d made for you. it was genuinely a scene out of a film, he was your knight in shining armour (a hawaiian shirt and matching shorts) and it was then that you knew that you guys were endgame.

core memory nsfw:

to say your bf loves your body is an understatement. the way he’s hooked on your body, some might say it’s borderline unhealthy. he’s so handy and keeps his hands on your ass all the time. whether it’s a spank, watching it jiggle as you walk away from him, or a full on grip as his pulls you onto his dick, he’s a man that would gladly die between your cheeks. one time during dinner you wore a wrap skirt paired with a tank top, paired with a thong that was peeping out enough to make your man’s eyes pop out of his head like a cartoon character. as his jaw dropped, practically salivating at the sight of your body moving closer to him, you picked it up and giggled, stroking his chin endearingly. for the entire meal he was practically sat right next to you, breathing in your luscious skin. ‘boy, you better calm down, we have company.’ you giggled. ‘fuck bby, how can you say that when you look good enough for me to eat?’ he whispered into your ear, trying not to bring too much attention. before you knew it you were face down, ass up and your thong was pulled to the side, as he used it as a pseudo leash keeping your pussy bouncing on his cock.

your favourite thing about him: his oddball nature.

as much as it can annoy you that he’s always cracking jokes, leaving no room for respite, your bf never fails to bring joy to your life. as the life of the party he’s always bringing that much needed energy to the dull world of his mostly corporate family. whether it be seeing you hollering at some unhinged thing he’d said, or watching him (ironically) fuck the smile onto your lips, you can tell that comedy is who he is, and you wouldn’t change your weirdo for anything.

his favourite thing about you: how artistic you are.

almost impossibly, it makes your boyfriend fall in love with you even more seeing your creativity flourish. you’re always making him jewellery out of the shells and stones you find. he loves to wear them, it gets you going when you see the necklace you made for him swing back and forth as he fucks into you. or when you feel the cold of his rings and bracelet on your waist as he holds you in position to fuck you even harder. he’s so proud of you.

his insta post: mostly just him showing off his good looks (we love a cocky man around here) and his beach flix.

surfer!bf my face is his favourite seat.

y/n: that big dick is a very close second though.

tinashe replied: @y/n, you a nasty girl fr.

sabrinacarpenter replied: @y/n girl, need you on that bed chem remix. about to do some damage…in a good way x

your insta post: almost always pictures of your creations; you like to keep your relationship with him private, that’s YOUR man, and you can get very possessive.

y/n feel free to add to your pinterest boards.

surfer!bf: baby you’re so talented 🩵

viviennewestwood: so excited to see your next collection!

surfer!bf: i love you.

y/n replied: @surfer!bf aw, i love you too babes!

plans for the future!

being with one of the greatest surfers in the world, definitely came with some amazing perks.

marriage:

oh, he’s 100% thought about it, and would definitely be the one to propose. the free spirit in him doesn’t need a piece of paper to prove that he loves you, truly. But would totally be your husband if you let him x

children:

your surfer!bf ABSOLUTELY WANTS TO HAVE A FAMILY WITH YOU! sees himself as the best father and y’all would have the cutest kids ever.

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@multireese

@malereadermaniac

@lysanderplume

@ghostking4m

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #gay smut #male bottom reader #male x male fluff #male reader #bottom reader

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girlkisser13 · 6 months ago

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being married to spencer reid would include

• spencer is very gentle with you, not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because he loves you so much and couldn’t bear to hurt you in any way.

• the two of you have a designated "no serial killer talk" time.

• your home is filled with shelves upon shelves of books, with new ones constantly being added. spencer likes to surprise you with rare editions or books he thinks you’d love.

• spencer isn’t the most outwardly expressive, but he shows his love through small, thoughtful gestures. he leaves notes in your favorite books and brew your coffee exactly how you like it before you wake up.

• due to his work, spencer can be a bit overprotective. he’d worry about your safety but would do his best not to let it interfere with your happiness.

• spencer would cherish the quiet moments you spend together, whether it’s reading side by side, watching classic films, or simply enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

• the two of you have annual matching halloween costumes that somehow get exponentially better each year.

• though he’s often serious, spencer has a sharp wit and a subtle sense of humor that would come out more often around you, making you laugh when you least expect it.

• spencer is incredibly caring and would always make sure you feel loved and appreciated. he’d be attuned to your emotions and would do his best to make you feel better when you’re down.

• he overcame his hatred for driving for you but only because you got drunk with jj, emily, and penelope and needed a ride home.

• date nights with spencer range from museum visits and bookshop crawls to stargazing or attending a lecture on a topic you’re both curious about. he’d love to create unique experiences that align with both your interests.

• SOO many coffee dates.

• though he might not be overly demonstrative in public, in private, spencer is incredibly affectionate. he’d hold your hand while reading, leave gentle kisses on your forehead, and give you reassuring hugs after a long day.

• he calls you before each flight to let you know where he’s headed for a case or to tell you when he’s finally coming home. although he usually doesn’t have time to call when he lands because he has to hit the ground running with the case, he always makes sure to send you a text to let you know they landed safely.

• he bought you a stuffed animal to cuddle with when he’s gone. he was nervous about giving it to you and had an entire speech prepared, explaining how they could be beneficial in many cases.

• spencer likes to leave sweet, thoughtful notes for you around the house, often filled with his favorite quotes, little reminders of his love, or even just a simple "have a great day" message in the morning.

• your relationship is built on a mutual love of learning. whether it’s sharing articles, watching documentaries, or attending seminars, you’d constantly be expanding your horizons together.

• spencer LOVES cuddling with you. he finds a lot comfort in your presence. he’d often pull you close while reading or watching tv, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to you.

• in some ways, being in love with you scares him because he’s never felt this way before. but in other ways, it excites him because he now has someone to share himself with, judgment-free, and a partner to experience life’s highs and lows with.

• this man knows you better than any subject he’s ever studied. <33

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut

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hannieehaee · 3 months ago

Note

I know your request are closed but I just wanna send this before I forget 😓 (sorry if you’re already being flooded with requests) but could you do Jun x actress!reader? Maybe a costars to lovers plot? They act in a romance drama and the on screen chemistry is perfect because they genuinely like each other in a romantic way.

THANK YOU SM I LOVE YOUR WORK!! ❤️

18+ / mdi

content: actor!jun, some small rivalry between jun and reader, smut, afab reader, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1710

a/n: thank you so much!!! i hope you enjoy what i came up with<33

masterlist

"are you here to practice lines again?", you asked as you opened your dressing room door to welcome jun into your private area yet again.

he gave you sheepish smile as he walked in and took a seat on the couch the two of you would usually lounge on in between shoots, "already annoyed of me?", he asked as he settled in.

you followed him, taking a seat next to him as you handed him a drink, "just rethinking how good your acting skills could be if you need to go over the lines so often," you responded in jest.

"oh, is that how it is?", he gaped at you, giving you that big smile he always reserved for you.

it had only been a few months since you'd met jun. after being cast as the leading couple in a long-awaited chinese drama, you quickly became good friends. you were already well known for your good chemistry with one another, leading the drama to a renewal halfway through the first season.

being jun's costar was the easiest thing you'd ever done. he was an easygoing guy (easy on the eyes too), and just overall extremely likable. you didn't want to get your hopes up, but you liked to believe that he found you just as likable, considering how often he sought you out.

jun had grown a tendency of stopping by your dressing room every day after filming with the excuse of going over lines for the following day. this usually meant staying on set a little later than anyone else, but you enjoyed the company too much to ever even think of complaining. the overtime was completely worth it if it meant spending a little extra alone time with wen junhui.

there was a slight huge chance that the romance you'd been portraying on screen had begun making its way onto real life. you didnt want to get your hopes up, but if jun's flirtatious demeanor was anything to go by, you were pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

there was truly no need for jun to stop by and go over his lines with you outside of official rehearsal hours — especially considering that he had been acting since infancy. you liked to believe that he simply liked the alone time with you and wanted to keep you to himself for as long as he could. you only hoped he would eventually ask you out for real, or else you'd have to take matters into your own hands.

"show me your acting skills, then, wen," you challenged, gesturing at him to get closer to you on the couch.

with a smirk, he scoot over, taking hold of the stacked up pile of papers on the coffee table in front of you which contained the script.

"what do you want to start with?," he asked, "the confession scene from the twelfth episode?", he began listing off scenes, "the big conflict on episode ten?", then his grin grew bigger, "or the sex scene for the season finale?"

"please," you scoffed, "no way you can start with the sex scene. you've never done any sex scenes before, wen. i have," you challenged.

it was true. despite his history as an actor, he had never engaged in any explicit roles before. this did not diminish him as an actor, nor did you actually believe he'd have any trouble getting the mood right for the scene, but riling him up was just far too enticing. it was also one of the only areas where you had more experience than him, having done roles that involved such scenes a few times already.

"what, you think i can't make a convincing sex scene?", he fake gasped, "people always say our chemistry's unmatched, and we both know why," he smirked by the end of his statement, chuckling at your scowl.

"oh? why's that?", you challenged him.

"i exude sex appeal," he claimed, "i'd be the best sex scene you'd ever shot," he leaned towards you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"show me," you dared him, "if you're that good, show me. no script."

he swallowed a scoff, both shocked at at the defiant look in your eyes and the very sudden change of atmosphere in the room.

"you're serious?" he almost gulped at the way you reclined against the couch, allowing the angle to show him the heavy breathing that had your chest going up and down, "you want me to-"

"i wanna see if you're all talk. we haven't had any steamy kiss scenes yet, so show me. give me a preview of the season finale."

those were the last words you needed to say before he began invading your space, pushing you slowly until you were laying on the couch while he hovered over you. he was slow yet intentional in his moves, wordless as he adjusted himself on top of you.

he was slow as he lowered his lips onto yours, eyeing them heavily before closing in on you. contrary to what you'd believed, he started at full force, not bothering to build up the kiss and instead giving you all of him immediately.

the original scene involved a very slow build up with a steamy finish, so you knew within seconds that jun had thrown away any intention to actually rehearse the scene but rather prove you wrong about your assertion about his lack of expertise in the area. however, you knew that it was far more than that. the kiss felt like more than just arguing against your assessment.

you mewled into his lips when his hands went to touch you, gripping onto your waist to pull you closer and adjusting himself so he could grind his hips into your own.

"i thought i couldn't do a sex scene? whats with all those noises? i've barely touched you," his breath was warm as he chuckled against you, moving onto your neck to lay kisses there.

"shut up. this is nothing. i could do this in my sleep," you challenged.

it didn't take long for him to begin undressing you, frustrated huffs accompanying his every move. you ended up in mere panties and a bra while he remained in his boxers. far too many illicit touches and kisses were shared in between to count.

"why am i naked, wen? i thought we were just rehearsing."

"im just making sure i get my point across," he lied through his teeth, hovering over you once more in order to get the upper hand again.

"god, you're so pretty. no wonder everyone wants you in their shows," he awe'd at you as he took off your bra, hands softly touching at the uncovered skin.

"or maybe because i'm a great actress."

"yeah, but you already know that," he smiled.

"i already know that," you affirmed with a similar smile before connecting your lips again.

any pretense for rehearsing left you after that point. both your hands itched to get the other closer, finally ending up with him lined up to your cunt and with your hands pulling at his boxers, lowering them just enough to pump at his hardness.

"baby ..."

"thought you were good at this, wen. thought you were gonna show me your skills," you teased.

"shut up. i'll, fuck, i'll show you."

his hands copied your movements, sneaking beneath your panties to tease at your arousal with his fingers. his actions elicited a similar reaction from you, moaning into his mouth as you both played with each other, so close to finally connecting in that carnal way you'd been aching but not close enough.

you worked him with your hand as he did the same to you, only stopping when he huffed what sounded like a painful breath and pleaded at you to stop. you were going to laugh at him once more, tease him for his weakness at your touch, but you needed to feel him now and decided to let it go.

grabbing onto his own cock, he began running up through your swollen lips, further lubricating them with his precum and groaning at the pulse he felt under his touch.

"hmph, f-fuck," he cried into your lips upon beginning to enter you, seeking silent permission to move.

a nod from you and he began pumping into you, groaning at every single move. the stretch made your eyes roll back, making you lose your mind little by little at every thrust.

"you're tighter than i imagined, shit," he groaned.

"o-oh? you imagined this?", you couldn't help stammering when he hammered into you as he did.

"shut up," was all he said before burying his face in the crook of your neck, nose breathing you in and lips pressing onto the skin.

your nails dragged down his back, careless despite knowing you'd both get scolded by your stylists for adding to their workload. it was fine, though, you thought. this was all in the name of working on your on-screen chemistry after all, right?

but it felt like way more. jun may have fucked into you with conviction, but the words of affection murmured into your skin gave a different story.

"beautiful, fuck."

"feel like a fucking dream ..."

"prettiest, tightest cunt ive ever had."

those were some of the many words kissed and bitten against your skin. it made you so dizzy you didn't even register when your orgasm began to approach.

his hand had at some point snuck between you, toying at your swollen clit as his thrusts became erratic. the end was near and he wanted to take you down with him.

"with me? cum with me, baby," he practically pleaded as his lips found yours again.

it was like this that you swallowed each other's moans, keeping your pleasure as a secret between the two of you.

even as he filled you up, he remained inside you. he managed to sit you up, allowing for the two of you to cuddle on the uncomfortably small couch in which he'd just defiled you.

"so, no sex-appeal, huh?"

"shut up, wen. i'd run laps with you on set."

"wanna bet?", his hands began feeling up at your body with a challenging glint in his eye.

and yes. yes, you did.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt oneshot #jun scenarios #jun smut #jun fanfic #jun x reader #jun imagines

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chaplinfortheages · 10 months ago

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Charlie Chaplin in 1916, most people were quite surprised how handsome he was outside his tramp character.

He had just signed a lucrative contract with Mutual Film Company who set him up with his own film studio called The Lone Star Studio. The facility was formerly the Climax Studios, located at 1025 Lillian Way in Hollywood, and later would be used by Buster Keaton to make all his independently produced silent two-reel and feature-length films.

The contract called for twelve two-reel comedies in twelve months, he ended up taking 16 months (films released May 1916-October 1917) for which Chaplin was paid the unprecedented amount of $10,000 a week plus $150,000 sign on bonus = $670,000 ($20 million in 2024)

The $670,000 made Chaplin the highest-paid-entertainer in history to that date. He ultimately took 16 months

#charlie chaplin #1916 #mutual film company #contract #$675

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chaplinlegend · 4 months ago

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On February 26, 1916, Charlie Chaplin signed a contract with the Mutual Film Company.

In the photo, Charlie Chaplin with H.P. Caufield (manager of Chaplin's Lone Star Studio) and with stock investor Leo White (on the left).

A short story about Charlie Chaplin signing contracts with the companies: Essanay, and then with Mutual, and a list of films shot by Chaplin for these companies) - (X) .

#charlie chaplin #1916 #mutual film company #silent cinema #history of silent cinema

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bkenber · 2 years ago

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Eric Bana on Portraying Such a Charming Villain in 'Deadfall'

WRITER’S NOTE: This article was originally written in 2012. Watching Eric Bana as Addison in Stefan Ruzowitzky’s “Deadfall” will remind many of his breakthrough performance as Chopper Read in “Chopper.” Both films have him playing characters who are charming yet fearsome, and his unpredictability as an actor had us on the edge of our seats throughout. But hearing Bana talk about how he prepared…

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drunkkenobi · 10 months ago

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Hi bb, ty for the prompt to write my thoughts!

So I can't get on tumblr at work anymore unless I go outside to get good signal on my phone so I have only been privy to what's going on here today from friends on discord. So maybe I'm missing some nuance or the what my mutuals think and I apologize in advance for that but I'm going to speak plainly.

This is the only way Watcher is going to survive.

The view counts have been steady through Mystery Files season 2 but they aren't, like, astronomical. A video with a million views nets a channel between $10,000 - $30,000. Guys. That's nothing for Watcher. They have to pay each of their 25+ employees a salary with insurance and benefits and for everything else their channel requires. Steven said in the video today that a season of Ghost Files costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. I don't think everyone is hearing that part and understanding how much money that is, especially compared to many other YouTubers they watch. I'm not an expert on other YouTubers but I look at the Sims people I watch. They are successful with views in the hundred k range because they are a company of one. Themselves and maybe paying a freelancer to help edit their videos. For one person, the stakes are lower and the potential for profit is higher! Especially for gamers that are filming in their homes. YouTubers like this, making niche content on the cheap, are who is going to make it in YouTube now.

Watcher is none of those things. They have, from day one, wanted to make high quality unscripted content. All of their shows are shows. They aren't just "Ryan and Shane do [thing]" or "Steven eats [whatever]". They are shows, like ones you see on cable TV or any streamer. And shows are not cheap. Unscripted is cheaper, sure, than scripted. But that doesn't mean cheap. Especially not with the sheer production value we've seen on all their shows, in particular Ghost Files (hundreds of thousands of dollars). That is how much something like Ghost Adventures costs, which is on Travel Channel, an actual TV network that puts up all those costs.

So. That's why Watcher has to pivot to survive.

I think it's a great idea, personally. And yes, I am in a position where I can financially afford it no problem, which I know is a privilege! I am very lucky in that regard. And I understand that many people are upset they won't see the boys as easily on YouTube anymore. That is valid! But they have openly said they are totally fine with password sharing and I think that's a great way to cut down on costs for some folks. Also right now there's a great deal on the yearly sub for early subscribers. $40 for a year is cheaper than any streaming service and it doesn't go to anyone other than Watcher.

I understand that people feel hurt and blindsided, but I think Watcher is also feeling this too. They have been so excited about this and being able to make whatever they want without having to worry about sponsors and now they're mostly seeing anger directed their way. Especially at Steven. Steven is not rich. You know who's rich? David Zaslav, a man who is single-handedly ruining Warner Brothers and making himself a billionaire while he's at it. THAT is the kind of person we should be directing our anger at streaming prices and quality of the media landscape at. Not one small business that is just trying to survive so they can continue paying their employees.

And one more thing. I've seen folks saying they'd rather watch more ads than pay and while I get that, that's not going to help Watcher make what they want. YouTube famously demonetizes videos with swears which is why I can't watch a video with DRAG QUEENS without every other line being bleeped and Watcher has been so good about not bleeping their content because they know we would hate it. And YouTube does this because of advertisers. Advertisers only want to appeal to the most broad of audiences so that means not supporting anything slightly left of center. Having to deal with ads sucks from the creator perspective and does not help them in the long run.

Anyway, this is all a bit rambling, but these are my thoughts on WatcherTV. I'm extremely excited to subscribe and make them make more Weird Wonderful World. I hope to see you all there.

#watcher #steven lim #ryan bergara #shane madej

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berzahoes · 1 year ago

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“slut!” | tom blyth

summary: in a word full of boys, tom is a gentleman.

an: takes place before filming billy the kid

warnings: mean names hence the title also if you care, reader is the same age as tom lol

“so keep your boyfriends hidden because y/n is newly single!”

“how many boyfriends has she had in the last four years?”

“clearly she’s the problem if she can’t keep a boyfriend.”

you heard it all. the names people called you, the headlines, news reports. it was always the same. people would rather shame you for your love life than be quiet. in the past you did joke that you went on many dates, clearly the media didn’t care if you were joking or not.

your manager had even banned you from looking at the really negative comments on your phone. twitter was having a field day with your love life.

“slut!” was the phrase often directed towards you. while your loyal fans defend you, you could still see all the hurtful things people said about you.

“do you want to cancel tomorrow’s interview?” lisa, your manager, asked one day. you hadn’t answered your phone at all and she was concerned so she drove to your new york apartment and let herself in with the spare key she had. she had found you in the darkness of your room curled up with your plethora of blankets.

“cancel everything. i just want to rest for a while.” you managed to say. lisa was like your second mom. she cared about you more than anything.

“we can do that.” lisa assured.

“lisa?” you turned to face her.

“yes?”

“thanks for checking on me.”

“always.”

after that conversation, lisa made some calls and any movie or tv show deal you had were quickly cancelled. over the next few days, the media found out that you pulled out of many movies from big franchises like marvel and star wars. it was always a dream of yours to be in anything marvel or star wars related, but for now, those projects had to continue without you.

many friends and colleagues reached out to you, but all you could do was send a simple ‘thank you’ and be done with it.

days passed and you were still in your apartment. you didn’t mind being alone, you liked it better that way. sometimes lisa or your parents would drop by or even your upstairs neighbor, mrs. davis, a nice old lady who knew that your favorite cupcakes were red velvet so she made you some to cheer you up.

it was a tuesday afternoon when you heard someone cursing multiple out in the hallway. you figured someone got locked out so you ignored it. pretty much everyone in the entire building got locked out at least once. you were ignoring the cursing as you continued reading your book and ate your red velvet cupcake that your kind neighbor had made you. a few seconds later, you heard a knock on your door.

“no.” you groaned as you stood up to answer the door. you opened it to find tom. you had only known him because you had a mutual friend so you were surprised to see him at your door.

“hi,” he spoke. “i called and texted . . a lot. i just wanted to see how you were.”

“i’m alive as you can see.” you said.

“i know you’ve been asked this question a lot lately but are you okay?”

that’s when you broke down. you couldn’t keep it together in front of tom, but he didn’t mind comforting you. somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear.

he would often come over to keep you company when lisa or your parents couldn’t. he understood you didn’t want to step foot outside so he didn’t force you. instead, you two would go up to the terrace of your apartment building and hang out. tom would bring lunch or dinner depending on the time that he decided to visit. during that time, you two would talk about whatever would come to mind. tom did his best to avoid talking about work, but you always asked how his filming was going or if he had auditioned for anything new.

“i got the part,” he admitted. “i’m playing billy the kid.” he smiled brightly.

“I’m so happy for you, tom! you deserve it!” you hugged him.

“it’ll be announced next week. you’re the first to know, well apart from my manager.” he chuckled.

“you deserve that and more.” you smiled.

“you do too. other people should see that,” tom said. “you’re so talented and amazing and everything about you is so. . . incredible. i wish people see you the way i do.”

you were speechless.

“are you okay?” tom asked when he noticed you were quiet.

fuck. fuck. fuck FUCK he thought to himself

“you mean it?” you managed to say. you could feel yourself start to blush.

“every bit and more. i enjoy being with you and if i could be with you for the rest of my life then i would die a happy man.”

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #actress!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth one shot

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digonthis · 1 month ago

Text

Catered Audience- Pt. 3

Spencer Agnew x f!Reader

2.2k words

( ᴅᴍ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛᴀɢ :] )

slow burn-ish, fluff, mutual pining, all that shit

part 1 part 2

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧♡‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

You were honestly surprised by the amount of friends you’d made just from catering for Smosh. At Mythical you had a few people you’d stop and chat with casually, just regular small-talk stuff. But every time you showed up here you seemed to make at least a few new friends, the kinds of friends you could actually see yourself hanging out with regularly.

That day, you had caught some guy inspecting the order receipt. Thinking you’d messed up, a conversation started and soon enough it was casual chit chat, something like what old friends would do. He said his name was Alex, a good friend of Kiana who had apparently brought you up one or twice in conversation the last little while. He was happy to answer your somewhat silly questions about what his job was like as you finished up your work, but a question of his own stopped you in your tracks.

“Have you seen the little moments of fame you’ve had on the channel lately?”

He brought it up as casually as you would the latest news report or a change in the weather, but the topic had your heart beating a little faster. “I think it’s absolutely hilarious, and between you and me I did think that Spencer guy was super funny!”

You lean on your cart as you bring Spencer up, the truth was that you’d been watching Smosh in the background during all your cooking lately, primarily videos where he’d been present. That was only a little bit on purpose. “I mean like- in the video I watched you guys film. I love Limp Bizkit, so the impression killed me. And he was so funny and full of energy, even if he sucked at darts! I was cheering for him the whole time, even though it was pretty obvious he wasn’t gonna win-” You cut yourself off suddenly, realizing you’d started to ramble about a guy you’ve never met to a complete stranger.

Alex, sensing he’d really caught your attention, proceeded to hype Spencer up. Coolest guy in the office, super nice, super fun to be around. Absentmindedly, he crumpled and uncrumpled the catering receipt in the pocket of his jacket as he spoke. You were pretty much hooked on every word, all the while trying and failing to keep a casual look about the whole thing. “It’s pretty impressive, you know. The amount of credit you’re getting without even being in the studio. If people didn’t already know you for the bangin’ food they definitely know you now…” He says, and you sense a small ulterior motive behind his words.

“Hell, you could come to the office Christmas party and nobody would even bat an eye…” He says slyly, sipping his drink as wheels turn in your head.

“Uh… I dunno about that much, hm. Wouldn’t want to cause a fuss or be out of place or anything…” You say, the social anxiety already creeping up on you. What would you even say? What would you do? Who would you talk to? What would you wear? You noticed your hands moving a little more quickly and messily as you packed everything up, barely listening as he continued. “I’m sure everyone would be happy to see you, you know. No pressure or anything, just an idea.”

He left the room after dropping that idea, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of being nothing more to Smosh than a one-off joke was a little saddening, especially after enjoying conversations with people as much as you had. Fading to the background now would mean likely losing a lot of that interaction, but the alternative was arguably worse, crashing a company Christmas party and hoping people like that plan. If they didn’t… well, the idea sent a shiver down your spine.

You spent the next few weeks as usual, scolding yourself internally as the christmas party came to your mind more than a few times. You busied yourself in your work, prepping excessively and way too far in advance, just as an excuse to give your mind something to do other than think about it.

In one of the videos you watched as you worked, a ‘who knows me best’ starring Spencer, Angela mentioned you again. You refused to look at the screen, not even wanting to see how anyone reacted, but like any other video it was only minutes before you were rewinding the video, pausing and zooming and analyzing people’s reactions to you. Giggles were audible behind the camera and Angela had a big shit-eating grin on her face, but Spencer was what you really cared about.

The way he pursed his lips, shoulders shaking to give away his quiet chuckle before he finally broke into a small smile. You told yourself the light blush across his cheeks was the lighting, and forced your eyes away. Back to work, a blush forming on your own cheeks as you continued.

As you finally sat down on the couch, you felt your phone buzz from your pocket. Fishing it out, an email from Smosh was the first thing you saw. You immediately perked back up, despite your exhaustion. and cracked open a redbull. A gigantic and fairly extravagant order, definitely meant for the holiday party. You were surprised at the quality of the ingredients they were springing on, nothing like golf leaf or caviar but a lot of high-ticket products that made you cringe when sending over the price quote.

Within minutes they had agreed without protest, and the redbull had already been downed. You decide against watching any more Smosh for your mental health’s sake, so you throw on some vinyl and get to work.

After a few days of non-stop work, you were glad to have a regularly scheduled dinner delivery to Smosh, as a break from being alone and doing nothing but baking. The christmas party order had an insane amount of sweets, so you’d been making plenty of cakes, cookies, squares, bars… thinking about it too long makes your head hurt.Wheeling your cart into the studio as usual put a smile on your face quickly though, as you immediately met Angela’s eye.

“What’s for dinner today?” She asks, falling into step with you as she attempts to peek under the foil of the containers. “At least let me put them on the counters first!” You giggle, quickening your pace a little to tease her. “Whatever it is, it smells so good…”

As the two of you walk along and chat, you lock eyes with the same guy you’d met last time. The one who suggested you come to the christmas party, Alex. He smiles, waving to you and Angela. “What’s up? Did you convince her to come yet?” “Come to what?” Angela asks. “I just tracked her down now, haven had time to ask anything yet…” She adds mischievously, a smirk on her face.

“I just meant the christmas party” Alex returns pointedly. It felt like there was something in this conversation you couldn’t fully understand, but you didn’t have time to ponder this as Angela’s hand shot to your shoulder, an excited glint in her eye. “You gotta come, it’ll be so fun! The girls are planning matching outfits and there’s always great drinks and people and something crazy always happens, it’s such a good time…” She continues her rant on and on until you’ve got all the food set up and people start making plates. The only thing that seemed to stop her tirade was the idea that something would run out before she’d get to eat.

You sigh and lean against the wall, finally having a moment of peace. You still found it to be a horrible idea, like crashing a party you weren’t meant to be at. Alex seemed to read your mind, leaning next to you.

“She has a point, somewhere in all that rambling. People would love to have you there, but… no pressure.”

He seemed apprehensive at the end of the statement, pondering something to himself before deciding to stay quiet. Needing to break it, you voiced your own opinion.

“It’s just so foreign to me, I guess. I’m not technically part of the company, or really ever been part of a company. It’s always just been me working for me, I have no clue how to act at a work party. It’s not my party to go to, and it’d just be too… weird.”

To your surprise, Alex didn’t argue your opinion. Just nodded and shrugged. “You’re not weird. Nobody would think you’re weird. From what I've seen, you have a knack for getting people to favour you, especially when you throw in a freebie with the order.”

With that strange anecdote he left the room casually, leaving you to think. What did he mean? At least it was good that people liked you but what freebies had you-

oh.

Why the fuck did he know about that???

You were a little glad he had left the room and wasn’t witnessing your little freak out, packing your things quickly and getting out of there as fast as possible. Selina caught you by the door before you can leave, your frazzled expression worrying her. “Who is Alex… close friends with?” You ask awkwardly as she tries to get you to spill whatever is on your mind. “Ah, he’s a super friendly guy but he’s definitely closest with Spenc-” “Nope!” You cut her off blankly, carting your shit out of the building without explanation leaving poor Selina confused and worried for you.

Alex must’ve talked to Spencer about you. Spencer must’ve talked about you to Alex. He took that receipt. How much does he know? What is there to know at all? Why did you tell Alex, a whole stranger that much the other day? You stand in front of your car door, weighing your options.

You could storm back in there, track him down and make him swear to secrecy. Search his office for the receipt, and threaten him for any information he had about you.

You could… drive all the way to Canada, change your name and start a new life?

You could grab a pint of ice cream and watch movies alone on your apartment until you fall asleep…

You went with the third option.

Ben and Jerry weren’t the best at giving advice but they sure did provide a comfort that you needed, until your phone buzzed with a instagram DM from Selina checking in. You assured her you were fine, but she wanted to know more. Within minutes you caved and sent paragraphs upon paragraphs of everything, from initially seeing Spencer to making the stupid cupcake to Alex and the receipt to the christmas party, and all Selina had to say in response was… laughing emojis. You threw your phone against the wall and fell asleep promptly.

Soon enough, it was the day of the christmas party and you were in a bit of a craze from all the cooking and baking you’d been submerging yourself in to forget about your feelings. You couldn’t help but feel proud as you looked over the vast expanse of food you’d made, the intricate and huge gingerbread house the star of the show.

Once everything was packed into your car, you felt a slight pang of dread. It would be the first time going back to Smosh since Alex’s little comment and your realization that Spencer probably knew more about you than you thought, but you quickly shook the feeling away. You had planned for this, it would take you a long time to set everything up at the venue so you’d given yourself plenty of time, enough so that you would be out the door and gone before any partygoers even show up. Keys in ignition and brave face on, you headed out.

The venue was just as extravagant as the catering order. It took you a few trips to get everything in, the only other person already there was Ian himself, and you insisted you didn’t need his help bringing things in. You hadn’t had the chance to speak with him much prior, but he was really nice and very complimentary to your work, especially the gingerbread house and gingerbread cookie of himself. You were having a great time talking to him, pleasantly surprised with his interest in the process of making everything, until you were tackled from behind with a hug.

“Thank God you decided to show!” Shrieked a voice so energetic it could only be Angela’s. “I knew you would, I did! I should have got you the dress to match, shit! This is gonna be so fun, don’t even worry-”

Ian looked at you confused as you gently pried her off, trying to quiet the excitement down so you could get going. “Show… for what?” He asked, catching Angela’s attention. “The party! I told her to come but she insisted she wouldn’t, but I think Alex changed her mind…”

“Um, no. Sorry… I was just dropping the stuff off…” You interject awkwardly, gesturing to the tables of food and dessert you’d just finished arranging. Ian took the brief silence as an opportunity to make you an offer that had your stomach dropping.

“Whatever we’re paying you for all this food definitely isn’t enough. The least I could do is let you eat some of it! Since it seems you’re friendly with the cast, it only makes sense.” He says casually, a completely oblivious smile on his face.

The only thing worse than intruding on a party was rejecting an invite once you’re already there. With Angela looking at you so hopefully and Ian sharing such a gracious offer, you really couldn’t say no without being insanely rude, so you nodded and smiled, your brain going haywire.

“Thanks, I hope I'm dressed okay, I really didn’t plan on staying…” You smooth your slightly wrinkled shirt down before Angela places a hand on yours. “Have you ever seen our costume department?”

The grin on her face tells you that you would be seeing it soon.

(A/N- ɪ ᴘʀᴇᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ɪғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ғᴡ ᴛʜɪs ! ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀs ɢᴏ ᴜᴘ sᴏ ɪғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ɪʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ! ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴊᴜɪᴄʏ ᴋɪss ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ )

Part 4>>

#smosh #smosh games #smosh fanfic #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew #spencer x reader #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfic #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer agnew imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #smosh x reader #smoshblr #spencer smosh #proofreading is for the weak

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