#Robert M. Coates

[ultraozzie3000]

Art of the Machine

Above, at left, self-aligning ball bearing from SKF Industries, featured in MoMA's 1934 Exhibition of Machine Art; at right, judges for the exhibit were aviator Amelia Earhart and professors John Dewey and Charles R. Richards, holding first, second and third prizes, respectively. (MoMA) The notion that machine-made objects have aesthetic value has been with us for some time, dating back to…

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TOEING THE LINE ─── robert fischer ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Love him. Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” — ‘Giovanni’s Room’, James Baldwin.

pairing. robert fischer x secretary!reader

summary. being robert’s secretary means doing everything for him. everything.

warnings. swearing, oral sex (m), creampie, p in v, mention of handjob, sex as stress relief, intimacy issues, quickies, crying, fluff, SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 6.8k

a/n. honestly this is just downright filth. robert & reader’s relationship/the way they treat each other is also a little confusing so i apologize LOL

i. 

Being Robert’s secretary means doing everything for him: sending congratulatory gifts to his clients, picking up his drycleaning, answering his emails, and even booking his dentist appointments.

It means doing everything he asks, and everything you think he needs; he trusts your judgment, he said, because you know more about him than anyone in the entire world — even himself. 

It means doing everything for him. Everything.

Robert had heaved a large sigh as he sat down in the backseat of his car; undone his tie; ran a veiny hand through his gelled hair. From that much, you could tell he was stressed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and, after being his secretary for three years, you also knew what relieved him best.

Your lips are wrapped around his cock the moment he gets home. 

You were kneeling between his legs, hands curling around the base of his cock and stroking whatever you couldn’t fit - which wasn’t much, your throat having long since been trained to take his length all the way. 

Grunts and groans spilled out of his mouth above you, but you didn’t look at him; you never looked at him - he’d been adamant about that, when you first sucked him off. Robert never told you why, just that your gaze should never reach his; you thought it had something to do with his vulnerability, his parental issues rearing its ugly head in every part of his life, even his sexual one. 

Robert’s hands wrapped around your wispy locks, giving you a makeshift ponytail, and you flicked small licks on his tip before descending back down on him. His grip on your hair tightened, and as you curled your warm tongue along his shaft, he began to bob your head up and down on him, faster, harder, hard enough tears formed in your eyes. 

He was stressed, so he was rough. But you took it in stride: he was your boss, after all, paying you the big bucks for your service, be it actual secretarial duties or requests just a step away from prostitution. 

You gag, once or twice, on account of how brutally the head of his cock is bruising the back of your throat, and Robert slows down; stills like he’s nervous you’ll break, but you continue expertly, focussing on lapping up the beads of precome spilling from his slit. You breathed in and out shakily, ignoring the ache in your jaw. 

His hands then left your hair, instead fumbling for the armrests of the leather chair and squeezing down on them as his back arched and his head threw back: he was close.

When one of your hands left his length and reached down to fondle his balls, Robert let go, a stuttered moan leaving him, and he released his load straight down your throat. You felt it spurt and coat your mouth, wet and thick. The only thing left in the room was your breathing, his high and tinny, yours haggard and desperate for oxygen. 

After a moment, you got up, noting how tight your legs felt while wiping a drop of come from the side of your mouth with your thumb. “Rest up, Mr. Fischer,” you insisted gently, resuming immediate professionalism, “you have a nine-o-clock with the head of Proclus Global tomorrow.”

Between breaths, Robert finally looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, buttoning his dress pants back up. “Saito?” he wondered aloud. 

You nodded silently in response. It was certainly odd to inform Robert about his schedule and meetings like you didn’t just have his hard cock in your mouth, but after three years it became part of the job. You reckon you could ride him and still arrange his doctors appointments by phone. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Fischer.” You addressed him with that title, ‘Mr. Fischer’, to keep a distance. Despite what you often did for him, you still considered yourself just his subordinate; just his secretary. 

You then turned, kitten heels clacking quietly on his hardwood floor, primly and properly leaving his condo with the taste of his salty come still imprinted on your tongue. 

ii. 

By eight am sharp, you’ve returned to his condo. Robert would need a little more than what he got last night, especially since he’d be meeting Saito, like you said. 

You mapped out his habits and what he was like a long, long time ago. He’s got a higher-than-average sex drive, but no time to be in a relationship with anyone — thus, your duties. Blowjobs after a long day and a quickie at least five times a week are a must, and never, ever, kiss him. 

Robert’s… well, a slight sex addict, having to regularly fuck or get pleasured just to keep sane, but intimacy’s got him hiding under the covers like he’s just seen a ghost. You, on the other hand, can’t discern the difference between if you have sex and kiss or just have sex - it's both sex. 

It’s just a thing that needs to be done in the end, and in Robert’s case, it’s like eating or sleeping: he needs it to live, so he gets it and lives. Simple as that. There are no feelings between you two, and it’s been that way for as long as you’ve been his secretary. 

You entered Robert’s condo easily, having a key and all, where you then found him pacing in his large walk-in closet, fiddling with his rings. 

You knocked lightly on the wall to alert him, stepping in when he noticed you and visibly relaxed. “Good morning, Mr. Fischer.” you stated, setting his drycleaning down on one of the velvet settee benches in the middle of the room. 

“Morning,” Robert said absently. Without warning nor another word, he stepped closer to you, hands immediately pressing into your waist. His palms were sweaty, a feverish need radiating off him as he kneaded at you, pressing you against one of the many closet doors. 

He was nervous, no doubt the result of the impending meeting with Saito, which equated a frenzied mood sexually. So, you wasted no time, quickly unbuckling his trousers and unzipping his fly, letting your stockings pool at your ankles, hiking your skirt up to your hips. 

Robert’s hands grasped at your soft thighs, lifting a leg around him as one of your hands slipped down the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock out. You pumped his length slowly, before spitting into your other hand, pushing your panties to the side and coating your cunt in the slick. You decorated your lips with the wetness, then carefully lined up his thick head with your entrance. 

You bit your lip, wincing as he pushed in; no matter how many times you’d fucked — which was plenty — you always felt that stinging stretch when he first entered you. 

From then on, Robert focussed solely on his own pleasure; on ridding himself of that anxious need, trying to fuck his insecure feelings deep into your cunt prior to seeing Saito. He grunted, a string of breathless curses leaving his mouth with every harsh thrust, just snapping his hips against yours repeatedly and chasing his high. 

Your face was pressed flat against the shoulder of his cashmere suit jacket, and you shut your eyes, letting Robert use you - use your hole, specifically. You’d asked him once why he didn’t just masturbate or use a sextoy, and he told you that nothing beats a hot, wet cunt. 

It didn’t matter to him what the girl looked like or what she cost, as long as her pussy felt good. That’s how he hired you: you’d spent an entire month by his side, and before returning to America from his vacation in Sydney, he confessed he’d never taken a cunt as delicious as yours. He didn’t have time to date, but he did have time for a secretary. 

That was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him, pleading for you to work under him, just so he could feel your plush pussy clenching around his cock once more. You’d never been a secretary before, but he promised you’d be taught, that the pay would be good, and that once he got married you could be whatever you wanted in the company - as long as, while you were still his secretary, you’d fuck him when he asked.

“Fuck,” Robert growled out near your ear, pounding mercilessly into your sopping cunt. Despite the selfishness of this quickie, him paying absolutely no mind to you, you couldn’t help how your mouth went ajar and your hips rutted into his. 

Robert had the best dick you’d ever fucking felt, average length but girthy, stretching you wide open. That first time you’d fucked, the one night stand, he kept telling you how tight your cunt was around his thick cock, and the next time after that, he remarked how you were just as tight as before. He was impressed, it seemed, how after each round of splitting you open with his dick, you always seemed to tighten back up.

You bit your lip, fighting back any moans from leaving your mouth, and focussed on gripping your arms around Robert’s neck. You noted how one of his hands dug into you soft thighs, pulling you toward him and sliding in and out of you desperately, like he’d never fuck again, while his other hand came up to the crown of your head, petting you softly. 

Though your mind was foggy with pleasure, you knew it was an out-of-character gesture: being gentle with you, acknowledging your presence rather than just your cunt. Robert wasn’t a romantic man - you didn’t think he knew how to romance someone, especially since his parents' marriage certainly wasn’t winning any awards for perfection.

So, just doing that had the gears in your mind turning. You’d fucked him for three years straight, and not for a moment did he ever do something like that. 

But then, as you were building toward an orgasm, that familiar pull in your stomach sending heat over your body, begging to go faster, Robert came, jetting his creamy load deep within you — and you forgot all about his odd actions. 

“Feel s’good,” he mumbled, fucking you still. You were unsure whether he meant his high or your cunt, but nonetheless, he came down from his orgasm by shoving his come deeper in your cunt with his length. 

Then, “What - time is it?” he said breathlessly, quickly pulling his softening cock out of your pussy and turning away so as not to face you. 

You blinked rapidly, leaning against the wall and trying to regain your composure, ignoring the grief swelling in your insides at the incompletion of your orgasm. “8– 8:10, sir.” 

Robert hummed in acknowledgment, still not looking at you as he redressed himself. You took in your boss’s form, how quickly his attitude changed from desperate to stone cold after sex; after receiving what he needed, like a fucking transaction, and you suddenly felt shameful: this here was one of the most powerful men in the world, owner of Fischer Morrow, and there you were, his secretary and fucktoy he could replace at any time. 

You weren’t special - you weren’t anything, especially not to him. If - no, when, he meets someone who pleasures him better, you’re out of a job. He said he’d help you when he got married, but you don’t think that’s happening anytime soon… and you know Robert: he’ll get tired of you, like the spoiled little kid he probably was, and will just find some other toy to play with. 

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby, Mr. Fischer.” you informed him numbly after pulling up your panties and stockings, shakily stepping out of the walk-in closet. It wasn’t often you felt like this - this being pathetic and used, because on the surface, this job was perfection. Good pay, good reputation, a boss who fucks you - and fucks you good. 

Sure, you could probably count on one hand how many times he made you come in these past three years, but it still felt nice, even if he never drove you past the edge. But, these days… you started wondering if this was the rest of your life. 

You couldn’t get a boyfriend, no, not without lying to him about what you did for a living, and there was still that uncertainty in the stability of this job. Robert had deep parental and intimacy issues - as stated by his therapist, in which, after eight weeks of seeing him Robert left in a fitful, teary, suffocating rage - and, beneath his cold exterior, was a hotpot of bubbling emotions he never deigned to reveal until he was seconds away from blowing up. 

In short: Robert was the most moody, unpredictable person you’d ever met, and working under him was like balancing on a tightrope. Because he never said what irritated him, always emotionlessly telling you to stop if he preferred you didn’t do something, you could never tell what was actually pushing all the wrong buttons. 

Before waiting in his condo’s front lobby like you said, you ducked into one of his many bathrooms and wiped the warm come dripping down your leg, flushing as you saw the ruined state of your panties and stockings: his white load had smeared all over the fabric, and, while you could get most of it off your dark stockings, it stayed on your underwear. 

You had to wear his come on your panties for the entire day, and in a way, it felt like Robert owned you. 

That’s why… you had decided to quit. You wrote your two weeks three months ago and have been holding onto it ever since — because you didn’t know how to tell him you wanted to quit, especially since your heart didn’t want to. 

Your head knew you were meant for more than secretarial duties and a quick fuck, but your heart ached for the lonely being that was Robert Fischer. That young CEO whose grievous relationship with his father was aired out in the newspaper, the man who went through succeeding the company as well as any young person could: fumbling, being crushed by the weight of his late father’s suffocating legacy, and the boy who didn’t know why he could never get his fathers love or approval. 

The heart wants what it wants, but the head knows best. You resolved to hand him your resignation by the end of the day, listening to your head, and got ready to leave this part of your life behind; to leave Robert Fischer behind. 

iii.

“What's this?” Robert asked in his office without looking up at you, gaze still trained on the papers he was signing. You had entered his office to deliver his mail and ask questions about various appointments - when best to schedule that lunch with his godfather, that kind of stuff. 

And… to hand him your 2-weeks. 

“It’s my 2-weeks, Mr. Fischer.” 

“…What?” Robert set his weighted fountain pen down, looking up in disbelief.

“I’m resigning, sir.” You said gingerly, gaze trailing away from his own, ignoring how his expression went from neutral to crestfallen.

“I pay you well enough, I’m sure?” He said, sounding frantic and not doing the best job of hiding it with the shaky smile on his face. 

“It’s not - about the pay. I’m just… I’m ready to do other things.” 

There it was: you didn’t want to wait until he got tired of you and kicked you to the curb. This job was fucking comfortable, and that unnerved you. Working diligently, fucking him diligently, saving up money your younger self would’ve never thought could ever come your way - it was comfortable and you were used to it, but you just… couldn’t take it anymore. 

You weren’t going anywhere like this. Not with Robert, not with your life, not with yourself. When you first took this job, you wanted to help him. Call it naive pity, but you thought the terribly mournful Robert Fischer could be fixed by getting fucked. God, your younger self had been out of her mind. 

So, here you were, three years later and resigning from one of the wealthiest men in the world, heart begging you not to, head wanting to leave immediately. 

Robert sighed, but nodded slightly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll send you your wages as soon as possible, and I can write a recommendation for your next—“

“There’s no need, Mr. Fischer,” you protested quietly. “My duties here weren’t exactly… just secretarial.”

Robert blanched, but agreed quietly. As you were about to leave, he spoke up. “Are you… free tonight?”

You tilted your head slightly, processing the topic change. “I have no plans for the evening, if that’s what you’re asking. I can come over after work—“

“No— no, not…” Robert grimaced, pressing two fingers between his eyes. “Proclus Global’s holding a charity gala. Tonight. Come with me; it’ll be your last event as my secretary.”

Your face warmed at your previous assumption he just wanted to fuck. “…Certainly, Mr. Fischer. There’s no need to ask, I’m obligated to agree.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to ruin any plans you have.” Robert’s lips pressed into a thin white line at your words. “If it - you don’t—“ He sighed, unable to say what he wanted properly, “You don’t have to say yes to everything I ask of you.”

“Work takes precedent, sir. You’re my boss - it’s only natural I follow orders.”

Then: “If that’s all,” you said, before promptly exiting his office, turning away and ignoring how crestfallen he looked. 

It was normal for you to accompany him to various events, seeing as he was single, and you were his hot, young secretary — and it was an expected duty of yours after the first time you went with him. 

You couldn’t figure out why his behavior had suddenly changed, why he’d become considerate— but perhaps it was because you were quitting. Although Robert’s emotional state was generally unpredictable, you supposed the professional part of him wanted to send you off nicely; have these last two weeks of yours not be soured. 

Anyway, it seemed inviting Robert to the gala was what Saito was here for - and, presumably, to add some pressure onto Robert, since their companies were rivals. Robert was always… bothered, you could say, prior to seeing Saito. 

The man made it a habit, consciously or unconsciously, to set Robert off, either by not-so-innocently referencing the late Maurice Fischer in their conversations, or by down right comparing Robert to him. It certainly wasn’t motivated by a personal grudge, no, Saito just wanted to see Fischer Morrow suffer, and for Proclus Global to rise. It was business politics, something you couldn’t - and didn’t want to - wrap your head around. 

The only thing you had in mind now was if you’d dressed up well enough: you had a small collection of gowns that you’d gathered over the years attending events with Robert, but every time, he gave you his card and told you to pick out something nice. You guessed that he was the kind of man who preferred to always show up in something new, something better — and that translated to whoever was perched on his arm.

That, being you, who’d bought a black satin and lace dress with a slit on the left thigh. You knew what Robert usually wore to these occasions, so you dressed accordingly - and it was an accurate foretelling, to say the least. When you’d entered Robert’s condo, he was standing in the lobby, strapping a Tudor onto his left wrist. He was head to toe in black satin, just as you were, hair neatly coiffed against his forehead. 

Your heels clacked loudly on the lobby tile, and he noticed your presence. “Black satin,” he scanned you up and down, “good.”

“Of course, Mr. Fischer.” You said politely, taking his arm when he lifted it up. The two of you headed to the car, and you didn’t miss how Robert opened the door for you first, like you really were his date for that night. 

His behavior throughout that entire day had been downright weird, and even more so now, because if you really pressed Robert, he’d tell you you were just a piece of eye candy for his clients to ogle over, so they’d lower their guards; get distracted and forget to pry him for information regarding the company. 

When you got to the event — which was taking place in a grand banquet hall in one of the many buildings Saito and his wife owned — a flock of people amassed, all greeting Robert and not-so-subtly alluding for him to head over to their table and discuss business matters. 

There were also various clients and colleagues of Robert’s who’d come over to catch up with the young CEO, and many of them commented, as usual, about the plus-one by his side. 

“And who’s this beautiful young lady?” One of the older men asked, raking his gaze all over you. It was clear as day: all of the men there were undressing you with their eyes. 

You didn’t shy away, however, instead smiling thinly. “I’m Mr. Fischer’s secretary,” you told the group, tilting your head slightly and baring your canines. They could stare at you all they liked, but you weren’t interested in letting them know much more about you than your position. 

It didn’t matter, anyway - finding out you were just his secretary made them see you differently. In whispered tones, they’d tell Robert they’d give anything to see you squirming beneath them, and he’d laugh a hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes and certainly didn’t come from the heart. To keep up appearances, buttering up his clients and letting them believe he was an easygoing guy, Robert would agree good-naturedly, but not without looking abashed, like he was too professional to actually ever breach that line. 

Like his hand hadn’t disappeared from your arm, trailing across your backside and groping the soft fat of your ass, digging into you. Like you hadn’t stroked his cock in the car, gently pumping him with your spit-slicked hand.  

You then broke away from Robert and the large group of businessmen to chase after a waiter who was holding a tray of champagne. In doing so you found out that Saito’s wife was, really, the main host of this charity ball when she, and several other women and wives of said business men, crowded around you, not unlike their husbands did to Robert. 

You greeted them kindly, blandly replying to their invasive questions: no, I’m just Mr. Fischer’s secretary, no, he is not accepting marriage proposals, sure, I can set up a meeting between you and one of our energy advisors if you give Fischer Morrow a call tomorrow. 

You let them talk circles over themselves, silently nodding, for Robert always reminded you to speak as little as possible. It would do no good for them to assume you and Robert were together —  they’d tear you apart. 

When the conversation drew its focus away from you entirely, you skittered away to find the waiter from earlier. An hour or two had passed since you’d arrived at the gala, and you indulged, letting yourself down a couple more glasses of that addictive drink. You were just about to grab one more, when you conveniently reunited with your boss and date for the night. 

Robert looked peeved, perhaps something to do with how boisterously Saito was laughing across the hall, and in a moment of quick thinking, you pulled him closer to you. “Mr. Fischer,” you whispered, voice tranquil, “if all has been accomplished for the night, I suggest we take our leave.”

He looked up at you, oddly, like he was seeing you for the first time. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “yes… you’re quite right.” 

Without any goodbyes, the two of you swiftly hooked arms once more, and exited the building. The cool night air bristled around you, nipping at your skin, and Robert’s hands dropped from your arm, instead slipping into your own and keeping you close to him. 

At the car, he opened the door for you again, helping you in gently, before sliding in on the opposite side. When you turned to face him, he absently brushed something out of your hair with his long, nimble fingers. “Dust,” he said simply, peering deep into your eyes. 

You stared back at him, but your thoughts were elsewhere. He’d never toed the line like this before; 

he’d never looked you in the eyes so much, held your hand, plucked something out of your hair or pet you or held you so close — out of the context of sex —  that you could smell his cologne. He had never been so compassionate, so romantic, like this relationship of yours was organic and authentic, not transactional and emotionless. 

The car ride back to his condo was quiet. His hand did not find yours again, not even to hungrily snake up your thigh and under your skirt — Robert was frozen, staring out the window and nowhere at all meeting your gaze. 

Finally, when you got back to his place, you trailed after him — he trusted you to do what he asked and to do what you thought he needed, and that look of vexation he’d had before leaving only meant one thing to you: he was bothered, and a bothered boss does not mean good business. 

When you’d both entered his bedroom, Robert stopped, and turned to face you. His hands found yours, tenderly slipping his fingers into your own and pulling you close to him, and you backtracked. 

“Mr. Fischer?” You murmured, feeling how his rough skin brushed against you. “What are you… doing?” you questioned, your mind filled to the brim with the same question: what was Robert feeling right now? About you? For you?

He called your name out softly, like it was the only word he knew, shining blue eyes examining you intensely and flicking down to your lips every so often. “Don’t quit. I - I… need you.” 

Your brows knitted - so it was about your resignation. “Mr. Fischer, you don’t need me, you… you need sex, you need someone to - to fuck you—“ You protested, wrenching yourself away from his grip.

“No! No. I don’t need you like that. I need you, not - not your fucking cunt, I - can’t live without you.” Robert’s hands pulled you back to him, holding you close like you’d crumble into ash if he didn’t. 

Then, he kissed you, soft lips benevolently pressing into your own, long and deep like he was trying to melt into your touch. He was slow and chaste but there was a hint of desperation in his saliva, like he wanted to consume you, and you him. 

You pulled back, alarmed, your chests rising and falling in sync. Robert had kissed you; he had crossed the line he vehemently set, the line he commanded be kept in place. You blinked, mouth opening and closing, unable to form words. 

“Robert,” You said at last. Robert, not Mr. Fischer. Not Mr. Fischer, not now, not with how quickly his face had fallen from feverish to devastated. “you don’t think you love me, do you?”

Robert’s brows furrowed. “Think?” He repeated incredulously. “Do I think I love you— god, I… I do love you. I don’t think I love you, I know I’m in love with you.”

You looked at him dolefully, willing your heart not to beat out of your chest. “But why? I am certain you can’t answer that, Robert, because you don’t love me, you are - are merely feeling abandoned—“

“I love you because you know more about me than anyone in the entire world—“

“That is my job, Robert—“

“No, it’s not, and you fucking know it. You did more than I’ve ever asked of you: you know me, Robert, not Mr. Fischer, CEO of Fischer Morrow. You know me.” His finger dug into his chest, enunciating each point, and you couldn’t help the way his words swayed you - consciously or not. 

In your silence, Robert continued. “And - and, I adore the way you think, how you laugh and how you see the world, how - how you understand people, people who’ve never had someone take the time to ever fucking do that. How you care. So - so… stay. Stay by my side.”

In the kiss, you two had found yourselves perched on his bed, and he looked at you, lips bitten between his teeth nervously. “Please,” he murmured, hand coming up to your cheek and meekly tracing shapes on your skin.

“…I can’t do this. Not with you. Robert, you - you don’t fuck a woman you say you love then pretend you didn’t.” You replied, shying away from his touch like he’d burnt you. 

“I - I didn’t want to push that on you, not when - when we were…” he trailed off, hands leaving you and instead scrubbing his grimacing face. 

“What, when I was your personal prostitute?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he said weakly, but didn’t protest. “I just… I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was just another part of the job.”

“Is it not?” You questioned, watching his expression change and flit through several emotions. “You’re telling me you love me, and you’re asking me to keep being your secretary. Robert, is this not just part of my job?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he pleaded. “It - you, can be more than that. You are the woman I worship and adore and - and will listen to, no matter what. So don’t leave.”

The words “me behind” did not come out of his mouth, but you felt it, like he etched it on your heart. Your eyes searched his own for even a semblance of fallacy — but it was so terribly real, truthful, that you felt a lump in the back of your throat form. 

You pressed your forehead to his own, trying to digest this information: the reveal of his feelings… and the remembrance of your own. 

His idealistic talk, his professions of love, his raw, long-suffering pleading made you remember the deep seated, stirring warmth in your heart that you’d beat to death all those years ago. 

You remembered the fondness you’d felt for a melancholy man back in Sydney, the man with the demure demeanor, the charming words; the man who you spent a month with, the man who took you on sweet dates, who wormed his way into your life like he belonged there; the man who fucked you slowly and graciously and cherishingly; the man who, at the end, had to go back to America, to the life he never talked about; the man who you wanted to explore a forever relationship with, but had offered you a job instead. 

“You love me?” you asked, vulnerability apparent in your tone. 

“More than anything in the entire world.”

“Then kiss me.” 

And Robert did, his hands sliding down your back to your waist, bringing you closed to him. This kiss was passionate, but patient and sheepish like you’d never kissed one another before. It was a sweet dance, all tongue and no teeth; curling around each other tenderly, desperately, like there was never going to be enough time in the world to express how you felt about each other, because you felt so infinitely. 

Your fingers carded through his hair, tugging lightly on his feather-soft locks, and his movements grew eager, gripping your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly as I did you,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing hungry kisses on the delicate skin. 

“I dreamed of this, in Sydney,” you told him, slipping off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt and dress pants, “I dreamed of forever together.”

He shrugged off the many articles of clothing, then began unzipping the back of your dress without looking, “I dream of us and forever without an end: you are my ever-present thought.” 

You paused your movements, looking at him squarely - though not without allowing your dress to fall off your shoulders - and pulling him into another kiss. “How could I ever have been content with just fucking you,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, “when these are the things you say to me?”

Finally, the two of you were reverently tossing and turning on the bed, completely naked and completely feverish, not just in lust, but in dizzying adoration and love for the other. Then, he was on top of you, holding himself up by the arms. His leg slotted between your thighs, your soaking wetness practically dripping onto him, and he could’ve fallen apart right then and there if not for your arm digging into his left bicep kept him grounded in reality.

His hard cock rested against your thigh, and after a moment longer of watching eachother intently, memorizing each and every feature you both had, he spread your legs wide and pressed his fat tip plush against your clit, introducing himself slowly. 

“Is this okay?” Robert asked, biting his lip and reveling in how good you took him, even if it was just the head. 

You looked at him blearily, barely registering his question, mind already losing itself to the pleasure he was inflicting on your cunt; how, the slower he was with you, the easier it was to completely succumb. 

“Yes, fuck,” you ground out, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking him in, his groans growing louder as he pushed the rest of his length in. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you blurted simultaneously to his various noises of pleasure, your fingernails digging deep crescent moon shapes into his back. 

“Best cunt I ever fucking had,” he grunted, hands gripping the sheets beside your head for dear life. He stilled for a few moments, letting you get used to his whole length in you — yes, when he’d fucked you all those times before, he was so desperate to come he hadn’t bottomed out his entire length in you, which… had already filled you to the brim. 

“M’gonna,” he shuddered, feeling your walls bear down on him suddenly, “gonna move now.” 

You nodded breathlessly, arching into his touch as he set a steady pace. He would drive into you slowly, teasingly, almost torturously, before suddenly pulling out, then thrusting into you regularly for a few moments, and finally starting all over again. It would’ve made you mad, if not for how sweetly he was handling you: his hand stroking your forehead shyly, gaze flitting over you like you were the only thing left in the entire world. 

Robert leaned down to your bare tits, brushing his wet tongue over your nipples, which had grown sensitive and erect. At his touch, you let out a small squeak, “Oh, Robert,” you keened, rutting your hips up into his own on instinct.

You could feel him smile against your skin, and then, he slipped one of your nipples into his warm mouth, suckling loudly and making you tremble. His tongue devouring your tits, his hips snapping into you, his hands caressing you gently; fuck, you realized, it was all too much, but still just enough. 

The way Robert fucked you was absolute perfection, the way he ravished and pleasured your body was heavenly; divine. Sweet moans left your mouth as Robert’s pace grew more frenzied, your sticky cunt making a sick squelching noise whenever he pulled out. You were like a fucking suction; even your pussy knew how delicious Robert’s veiny cock was, and held onto him desperately. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Robert sighed, pressing his face into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Your are the only one for me— fuck— its you, and only you.”

Though your thoughts were growing foggier, only focussing on feeling pleasure, you still had it in you to beam at his words, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a close embrace.

“Faster, please, god, I adore you,” you said after letting go, a string of words barely coherent. Still, you thought that even if you’d not said anything at all, Robert would have understood, for he began sliding his cock in and out of you rapidly. His hands found themselves at your hips, and he began pushing you up into him as he slammed down into your cunt. 

His thrusts drew breathy moans from your lips, and you could tell how swiftly it affected him, knowing his cock made you shudder and whine like that, writhing beneath him, because he commanded gently for you to: “Look at me,” he said, and you obliged, taking in those sweet, wet blue eyes, lashes fluttering as he blinked. He wanted to look at you, and he wanted you to look at him. 

“I’m looking,” you responded, barely able to speak. 

“Good,” he said breathily, “I wanna know what you look like when you come.” Then, his cock began pounding into you, not cautiously and delicately, like he had been earlier, but insatiably, unable to think of much else but making the woman he loves orgasm. You could count on one hand how many times Robert made you come, but it seemed that’d be the only thing he’d be thinking about for the foreseeable future: devoting his time to making the odds even. 

His words made your insides twist, the knot in your abdomen growing larger; it turned you on much more than you thought it would, for the notion of him coming in you because he wanted to, because he wanted to fill you with his seed and mark you as his, not just because he wanted to release and didn’t have time to clean it up elsewhere. Suddenly, you found yourself knowing the difference between sex with kissing, and just sex.

You hadn’t realized how close you were, steadily building toward an orgasm when your brain has turned off thinking and let you melt completely into the ecstacy, and only really comprehended it when Robert mumbled, “Jesus, you’re so wet, taking me so well,” and his praise sent you off the deep end.

Honestly, you couldn’t describe how it felt. You could, however, do so in comparison to your previous orgasms with Robert. Usually, it would feel good, but like it ended too fast. You’d conveniently orgasm when Robert came in you, and he’d drive out his high in your cunt, then pull out immediately. If you’d had your way, you’d keep him thrusting until you couldn’t take it anymore, wanting to drag out your blissful orgasm as long as possible.

That’s what happened here. The heat that encompassed your body was unfamiliar, but damn well fucking delectable, making your body buck up uncontrollably into his cock. You were high on the pleasure, drunk on his length, and he knew this, still gliding in and out of you. Your climax was like entering a deep pool: it took you over completely, and was a little hard to come out of. 

“S’good,” Robert mumbled, not unlike he did earlier that day, but you knew it was different. “Your face look s’fucking gorgeous,” he commented, mind growing fuzzy as he saw your expression change throughout your high. 

Your hands found themselves back in his hair, and you tugged him slightly so you could whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Robert,” you spoke warmly, though still panting, “for loving me. For letting me love you.”

You swore you saw light tears well in his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure, because he cocked his head back, neck clenching and his mouth falling open as he released his cream deep into your cunt, flush against your cervix. He let out a low moan as he climaxed, thrusts still coming but considerably slower. It felt like he’d been coming forever when his arms gave out and he finally went limp, falling down beside you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” is what he said first, peering up at you and brushing an eyelash off your cheek. “I’d have loved you no matter what you did.”

Now you felt the waterworks coming. How was it, that through such a strained relationship and broken examples of intimacy, did Robert know how to be so sweet? Or was that just him, just how his thoughts came to him; was it just his instinct and nature that made him so darling?

Weakly, you slip your arms under his, combining the two of you in a sweaty embrace. The room smelt like come and sex, the lights impossibly bright and beaming down on the two of you uncomfortably, but you could deal with it— and everything, so long as you were with Robert. 

“If only I knew sooner how cheesy you were, Mr. Fischer.”

“Well, you’ll have the rest of your life to keep finding out… Mrs. Fischer.”

[bobgasm]

oral technique [part two] | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 2449 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], oral sex [f & m receiving], reader rides bob’s face in a parking lot, a mind blowing blowjob, male moaning, whimpering, bob has a praise kink, bob gets head, bob’s a virgin in this, it’s pure filth

summary: in which you give bob head

author’s note: @attapullman convinced me to write this a while ago. everyone say “thank you morgan” 🤭

part one | oneshot | masterlist 

If there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that you never wanted to be “just friends” with Bob. You’d had feelings for him for a while, enjoying the time you spent together that made your feelings develop tenfold. 

He was smart, usually the smartest person in the room. His shyness and shy nature made it seem like whoever commandeered the conversation ruled him out of the running. But you knew – he’d mumble under his breath with correct facts, never needing anyone else to confirm for him. He didn’t want the recognition, or everyone’s attention on him. 

But you? He craved your attention. He enjoyed the smug grin you wore whenever he corrected someone. The look you shared with him whenever the person he was correcting was Hangman. You understood he didn’t like being the centre of attention, and so you basked in his victory quietly. 

A game of truth or drink brought forth your feelings for someone in the circle. While everyone tried to ask you questions about who it was, you’d always take a sip as you held Bob’s gaze. You understood how embarrassed he’d feel if the entire group knew; the merciless teasing and insistence on setting the two of you up. The way you viewed it, he’d act on it once he was ready to, once your hints and lingering touches became more obvious. 

You hadn’t been surprised to watch Bob drink when the question about virginities came into play one night. He was a private person, and if he didn’t want to talk about his experience – or lack thereof, – you’d do what you could to draw the attention away from him. Even if that meant over exaggerating your own experience, everyone was quick to move on and forget that Bob had drank instead of telling a story. 

It was how Bob decided to confide in you, and you soon learnt that he was still a virgin. He’d told you with his head hung in shame, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. You hadn’t made fun of him, no. Instead, you’d offered to teach him how to go down on a woman. 

By practicing on you. 

Sure, it was fuelling your own agenda, but Bob was eager to learn and you were more than willing. 

Your mind still spun in circles whenever you remembered that night. The way his hands and mouth felt on you, inside you. His lust-blown pupils and crooked glasses, hair a mess from your hands and your slick coating his chin when you finally let him up. 

“You taste so good,” he’d uttered, mouth barely an inch from your heat as he’d made the confession. You replayed it over and over again whenever your fingers expertly brought you over the edge. 

You wanted him again, of course you did. Your skin felt alive whenever you were in close proximity to him, his cheeks always rosy whenever you looked in his direction. Your little secret. 

He drove you wild. 

He’d told you about his crush, and you’d finally confessed to yours. He’d been bashful and shy, asking, “wait, really?” It made you chuckle as you tenderly cupped his face and said, “yeah, Bobby, really.”

Getting it out in the open had been the first step. Sure, you’d skipped a bunch by offering to teach him how to eat you out, but it had been more than worth it. Since then, he’d asked for more “tutoring sessions,” which you were more than happy to oblige with. 

It had reached the point where you’d catch him staring at you hungrily from across the room and you’d make an excuse about being tired. Bob would offer to drive you home, and he’d wind up with his mouth on your cunt, making you scream his name. 

Tonight was much the same, except Bob was feeling a lot more confident about himself around you. He’d softly kissed the skin behind your ear as he’d given you a hug. His fingers wandered dangerously high under your dress. But tonight you had a plan to pitch a new idea to him, something new you could show him instead. 

You wanted to switch places. You wanted to be the one on your knees, driving him wild with your mouth and hands. You wanted to make him come undone and listen to all the pretty noises he’d make. 

You announced you were feeling tired not too long after catching Bob ogling your chest. He was being discreet about it, to the point you knew all your friends were oblivious, but you caught him. He blushed something fierce before offering to drive you home. 

You had a routine down pat. No one questioned the two of you leaving together. No one questioned the blush on Bob’s cheeks. They all assumed he had a crush and would never act on it, but they underestimate you. Your own crush on Bob that only he knew about. 

Outside, you marched towards Bob’s car with purpose, but he was hot on your heels. 

“Eager, are we?” He asked cockily, catching your hand and spinning you around. Pressing his body against yours as he backed you up against the door, hands on your thighs under your dress. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, giving you almost what you wanted. You let out a small whine, “Bob,” and he chuckled. 

“Here?” He teased, sliding his hands further under your dress. “Anyone could catch us.”

“Doesn’t it excite you just a little bit?” You countered, hands fisting his shirt as you cocked your head to the side. “The thought of me riding your face in a parking lot? On your knees, Lieutenant.”

Bob groaned as he sank to his knees on the gravel ground. He didn’t care about the large stone beneath his left kneecap. All he cared about was having you fuck his face and making you cum harder than you ever have before. 

He started with the soft kisses along your thighs, fingertips pushing up the material of your dress as he inched his way higher. His mouth was hot against your already warm skin, teeth nipping and tongue laving at your soft skin. Your thighs were covered in his little ministrations, marks of his time spent between your legs making you come undone over and over and over again. 

He kissed you over the material of your panties, taking a deep inhale of your delicious sex as he moved the material to the side. 

“Spread your legs a little more,” he instructed, shuffling himself forward a little more. He wanted you perched on his face properly.

You did as he said, leaning back against the side of the car. One hand tangled itself in his hair, the other lifted your dress so you could see him. Bob wasted no time licking a bold stripe up your centre, flattening his tongue so he could taste all of you. 

You whimpered as he found your swollen nub, his tongue dancing over it. Tasting, teasing. 

He’d become more bold in his actions since his initial first time eating you out. You’d taught him what you liked, the failsafe combination of his mouth on your clit and two fingers hooked inside your cunt, drawing out an orgasm time and time again. But he’d wanted to try more, make shared experiences. You’d been more than willing to let him practice. More than willing to accept any time he wanted to spend with his face buried in your cunt. 

You gasped as he stiffened his tongue and pressed into your tight entrance, arms hooked under your legs as you felt him bear your weight. The delicious squelching and slurping had your head falling back against the door with a soft ‘thunk’ that didn’t stop him. He moaned against you as you started bucking your hips, grinding your clit against his nose. 

The gates to heaven were at the apex between your thighs and Bob’s tongue held the key. 

“Bob,” you gasped, feeling the coil in your abdomen tighten. 

But he didn’t stop. He helped guide your hips when your thrusts grew weaker, your hand growing tighter in his hair to the point of pain, making him moan against you one more time. 

“‘m so close, baby,” you purred. “Fuck, just like that. Such a good boy.”

Bob’s groan was low and guttural, your words spurring him on. His cock strained against his pants almost painfully. His own hips bucking for any kind of friction as you used his face to come, body shuddering without any further warning and your slick gushing from your cunt with a vengeance. 

He slurped and gulped and moaned up a storm as your legs closed around his head, eyes blinking out spots in your vision. 

When he felt you gently stroking his hair, he helped you lower your legs to the ground before he gazed up at you. His glasses were askew, pupils lust-blown and and goofy, fucked out smile on his face. The lower half of his face was still covered with remnants of your orgasm, as well as spotted across the dark material of his shirt. 

“Such a good boy,” you repeated, just to watch his eyelids flutter close under the praise. “C’mon.”

You helped him stand, admiring the wet patch staining his jeans. The first time he’d cum while eating you out, he’d been embarrassed. Now he felt pride, that getting you off was enough to get him off. You never made him feel bad for it, but you were hoping he’d be ready to go again by the time you got home. 

Bob happily drove, holding your hand while you rested in the front seat. The silence was peaceful, and by the time you made it to Bob’s place, he kissed you hungrily. 

“Want you to ride my face properly,” he told you. “Straddling my face while you use me to get off.”

Your breath hitched at the idea, your hands tangled in his hair as you tasted yourself on his lips. You shared a moan as he pressed you up against the door of his apartment, fumbling to get the key in the lock so you could continue inside. 

“I have a better idea,” you told him, voice sultry as you kissed along his jaw, lips brushing against his air. “I want to reward you for being such a good boy.”

Bob whimpered as the key turned in the lock before the door opened. He held onto you as you stumbled a bit before kicking the door closed. 

“What’s that?” He asked, voice thick with desire. 

“Get on the couch, baby,” you instructed, watching him drunkenly stumble towards the couch and plop down. You slowly walked towards him, his eyes tracking you. His breath came out ragged as you reached for a decorative cushion and knelt on it in front of him. 

“Oh, I–you don’t,” he stammered, swallowing thickly as you ran your hands up and down his thighs, slowly parting his legs. 

“You’re always so good to me, baby. I wanna be good for you.”

Bob moaned as your hands reached for the button on his jeans. “Please. Please,” he begged. “Fuck, I don’t–I won’t last.”

His breath came in short pants as you peered up at him. 

“It’s not about lasting long, baby. It’s about getting you off. Enjoying the feeling of my mouth,” you assured him. “Please? Please can I suck your cock?”

He keened in response. “Yes, fuck. Please.”

You smiled sweetly, enjoying how wound up he already was at the prospect of your mouth on his cock. He lifted his hips without much prompting, helping you to remove his soiled pants and underwear. His cock sprang to life and rested heavy against his stomach. Thick and long with an angry red tip and droplets of cum streaking down his length. 

You rubbed your hands along his thighs, nails lightly raking down to just above his knees, still spotted with dents from the gravel. His cock twitched as you pressed a kiss to his pubic bone, a soft gasp falling past his lips. 

You lightly wrapped your hand around his cock, peering up at him through your lashes as you licked and sucked his balls. Bob’s hips bucked of their own accord as you started to stroke your hand up and down his shaft. Precum oozed from his slit with each stroke from base to tip. 

Taking a page from Bob’s own oral handbook, you licked him from base to tip, tongue delving into the puddle of precum. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he whined, doing his best to watch your delicious assault on his cock. 

You wrapped your lips around his tip and hummed, laying your tongue flat against the sensitive underside and gently sucking. Your mouth salivated as he groaned, hands fisting the couch cushion beneath him and you reached for one of them, bringing it up to your hair. 

“Guide me slowly,” you instructed. “Find my limits.”

You let your spit trickle down his length, saving more in your mouth before you took him in again. He gently urged your head further down, eyes widening as his cock slowly disappeared in your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby,” he panted. “Takin’ me so well.”

You moaned around him, watching his head fall back at the sensation. You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, the other lightly playing with his balls. Working him into a state you’d only dreamed of. 

When you gagged around his cock, his eyes flew open and his grip lessened in your hair. You held his gaze even as your eyes watered and you worked to take him in further. 

When you slowly lifted your head, a large bridge of spit from your mouth to his cock had you grinning. You hands continue working his cock. 

“How you feeling, baby?” You asked him. 

“Good, so good,” he moaned, your thumb rubbing circles at the ridge under his cock. “Fuck, I need your mouth.”

You hummed as you obliged, sucking the tip of his cock while you continued to jerk him off. Slowly taking more of him into your mouth as he guided your head. Starting to quicken your motions as his hips bucked and his balls pulled in tight. 

“I’m close. I’m gonna–fuck,” he grunted, whining as you continued your blissful assault until his seed filled your mouth. Hand wound tightly in your hair as you pulled off him with a ‘pop’, mouth full of his salty cum as you swallowed his load. 

You hummed, swiping at the corner of your mouth before sucking it clean. 

“Good boys should always be rewarded,” you praised. 

[aliorsboxostuff]

Can I request grey house x male reader fluff or smut is fine , if that's not too much

Yessss honestly i was in the mood to write some fluff but if this turns out slightly bitter sweet erm,,,, i can only apologize hgdhdghjfjgh i can only write House so much before he goes out of character HAHAHA 

Within his arms.

Tags: Greg House x M!reader, Greg House, male!Reader, doctor!reader, Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, fluff, slight OOC on House's side whoops, Cuddling, Bantering, just pure cuteness and maybe bittersweet at the end.

The tests are done, and the results are on House’s desk. Surely he wouldn't mind you taking a short nap before checking in with the patient, right?

—

It was midnight, precisely 15 minutes past 12 AM. 

For the past 3 days, the current patient House’s team is diagnosing has been going from stable to unstable in a matter of hours. With each problem they solved, another pop-up, and with the week ending it seems like you'd have to cancel your weekend plans if the patient's condition keeps deteriorating. 

You’ve just finished the last batch of blood tests, eyes grimy as you try to blink away the claws of sleep. There were a couple of times where you had to violently jerk yourself away, and then hold the urge to stick a needle of adrenaline into yourself just to keep testing stuff.

Somewhere in your head, about a couple of hours ago, Cameron came by to tell you that House might still be in his office until late. She was the only other doctor who knew of your little crush on the diagnostician, and pity you for it. You don't blame her. After knowing what the girl went through with him, you can't help but be sympathetic, though, despite her blatant warning, your heart can't seem to stop doing flips whenever House is around. 

A machine beeps. You grumble, standing from where you sat to retrieve the result.

“I should check in on House…” You mumble, betting on him still being around. 

Stumbling through the halls, you finally made it to your Boss’ office, and while it’s disappointing, you're not surprised he’s no longer present. The man must've gone home ages ago, he probably was packing up when Cameron informed you of his overtime possibility. You sigh, dropping the results of the blood tests on his desk before your eyes glance at the couch, enticing you with its soft cushions. 

The tests are done, and the results are on House’s desk. Surely he wouldn't mind you taking a short nap before checking in with the patient, right?

You check the perimeters, around the office and into the hall. House is nowhere to be seen. The night shift nurses as milling about, busy with their patients to monitor. Finally, you nudge the door to close softly, the glass making a short clink, before you drape your aching body onto the sofa. After hours of testing and sitting hunched on the stool, the sofa comforts your back. Groaning as you stretch your arms above your head, fringe dropping slightly as your head leans back.

You sigh, relieved, a mixture of boredom and sleepyness a toxic concoction luring you to close your heavy eyes. You drape your arms around yourself, your lab coat long forgotten somewhere in the office. Bringing your legs to your chest, you lean slightly to your left, resting your cheek on the headrest, eyes fluttering close. Surely House, if he was still even here, wouldn't mind, right? 

If he did he would've shouted at me by now, that was the last thought you had before darkness slowly engulfed your vision, even the insistent tapping of a familiar cane didn't wake you.

—

“–ow are they so comfortable together? That couch is way too small,” 

“And House is all long limbs and- Honestly its impressive,” 

“Can't you two just hurry up and grab my phone? I can take a picture of them!” 

Soft light slowly penetrates your grogginess, eyes blinking open, trying to adjust to your slow-awakening nerves. You yawn, sighing at the feeling of being well-rested, it felt comfy and warm, something soft draped over your body, and someone’s long arms wrapped around you. Leaning back slightly to try and greedily soak up what is left of the person's warmth, a small smile makes it way to your lips when-

Wait. Someone? 

“Are you three going to keep gawking or should I test how hard I can throw my cane?” House’s voice snaps at your senses, vibrating through you as your ears are pressed beneath his collarbone. You hear the man behind you groan, knowing House he probably gave the team the worst eye roll known to mankind. 

“I thought I asked for the test results last night? I don't see them on my desk,” His tone drops lower. Instead of seeing, you hear a quick sequence of shuffling and shoes shuffling on carpeted floors, knowing it must be your other co-workers hurrying out of the office. 

You gulp, finally finding your voice after you're sure it won't crack. “The results are already on your desk, know…”

House nods above you. His chin rests atop your head. “I’ve read through them.” 

He pauses. “You got the PTT wrong.”

“No? I’m sure it didn't…” Your voice fades.

You feel House shift. He moves your legs to drape over the couch’s armrest, alleviating more of his limped leg. “No, but I just bought us another half an hour, so unless you want to go back to acting professional, I suggest you-”

“No,” You croak out. “No it’s…. Fine. Thanks,” 

You feel House sighs. Either way, you decide to push your luck as you lean deeper into the doctor's neck, sighing, and pull at the blanket further. Something deep in you worries, a ball of anxiety growing steadily. You don't know if House knows of your little infatuation, if he resents it or lets it fester to consume you whole. He and his puzzles are too advanced for you to understand, though eventually, it boils down to his entertainment. Is he letting you do this to see how far you’ll go? 

Suddenly, you feel House’s hand rest on your shoulder, one finger tapping gently. “You lucky I was also staying late last night,”

You hum, relief settles in. Despite the outcome of this predicament, sleeping in House’s embrace while the man himself seems content enough to let you off the hook, you cherish this and compile it into your memory. 

Requests are open! Reblogs appreciated <3

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

The Irish Princess and her dynastic marriage to a Norman that helped shape Europe. Aoife, Princess of Leinster -> Catherine, The Princess of Wales. The Princess of Wales is Aoife, Princess of Leinster and Richard de Clare, Earl of Pembroke 26th Great-Granddaughter  via her paternal grandfather’s line.

** Aoife or Eva, Princess of Leinster, played a pivotal role in the history of Ireland and the Norman expansion. She was the daughter of Diarmaid MacMurrough, King of Leinster, who sought the help of the Normans to secure his throne and defeat his enemies. As part of this alliance, Aoife married the Norman leader Richard de Clare, known as ‘Strongbow,’ on 25 August 1170. This marriage marked the arrival of the Normans in Ireland, just 104 years after their conquest of England by William the Conqueror.

Through their daughter, Isabelle de Clare, The 4th Countess of Pembroke, the union of Aoife and Strongbow forged a lineage that would shape the future of European nobility. Isabelle became an ancestor of nearly every reigning monarch across Europe. Within a few generations, her descendants included much of the European aristocracy, including all the Kings of Scotland since Robert the Bruce (1274–1329) and every monarch of England, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom since Henry IV (1367–1413). 

Family Line

Aoife MacMurrough, Princess of Leinster and Richard de Clare, 2nd Earl of Pembroke. Painting of their wedding, depicting the political and cultural consequences. 

Isabelle de Clare 4th Countess of Pembroke m. William Marshall 1st Earl of Pembroke. 

Eve Marshall m William de Briouze, born  Pembroke Castle.

Eve de Briouze m. William de Cauntelo, Coat of Arms

Millicent de Cauntelo m. Eon la Zouche, Coat of Arms

Eva la Zouche m. Maurice de Berkeley, 2nd Lord Berkeley, buried St Mary's Church, Portbury. 

Thomas de Berkeley, 3rd Lord Berkeley m. Catherine Clivedon

Sir John Berkeley m. Elizabeth Betteshorne, burial location.

Eleanor Berkeley m. Sir Richard Poynings, burial tomb.

Eleanor de Poynings m. Henry Percy, 3rd Earl of Northumberland

Lady Margaret Percy m. Sir William Gascoigne 

Anne Gascoigne m. Sir Thomas Fairfax - Gawthorpe Hall, family seat.

William Fairfax m. Anne Baker - Gilling Castle, family seat. 

John Fairfax m. Mary Birch - Master of the Great Hospital at Norwich, Norfolk

Rev. Benjamin Fairfax m. Sarah Galliard - Preacher at Rumburgh, Suffolk.

Benjamin Fairfax m. Bridget Stringer - died in Halesworth, Suffolk.

Sarah Fairfax m. Rev. John Meadows - died in Ousedon, Suffolk.

Philip Meadows m. Margaret Hall

Sarah Meadows m. Dr. David Martineau

Thomas Martineau m. Elizabeth Rankin - buried at Rosary Cemetery, Norwich.

Elizabeth Martineau m. Dr. Thomas Michael Greenhow - died in Newcastle upon Tyne, Northumberland.

Frances Elizabeth Greenhow m. Francis Lupton

Francis Martineau Lupton m. Harriet Davis

Olive Lupton m. Richard Middleton

Peter Middleton m. Valerie Glassborow

Michael Middleton m. Carole Goldsmith 

Catherine Middleton m. Prince William of Wales

*Catherine is also a descendant of Aoife via her mother Caroles maternal line.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

I have a thought that lives rent free in my head, and I need to read it under your perfect writing, please? Wife reader waking up a very hot, delicious and naked husband robert downey with a delicious blowjob... can you imagine that??? The sounds that he'll make 🥵 and feel free to add whatever else you want, and thank you in advance.

Breakfast is served

PAIRING | Husband!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | ~ 700 words

SUMMARY | You decide to wake up your husband, Robert, in one of the most delicious ways you can think of, and he's definitely not one when he feels your mouth wrapped around him ever so perfectly.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, established relationship (husband and wife), porn with very minimal plot, unspecified age gap, consensual somnophilia (consent was given off-screen by both parties involved), smut ( sex dream, a little bit of dirty talk, slight sir-kink, oral (M receiving), female masturbation, implied love making ).

A/N | You've caught me in the perfect mood for this one, Nonnie! So you're lucky, and I'm pulling this request right to the front (I apologize deeply to everyone else waiting for theirs to be done!) because I can't wait to work on this! I hope you enjoy what I did with this one 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist

You've always been a light sleeper, but lately, it's been even worse, and this morning is no different. Robert's been having a dream and keeps whimpering and moaning softly, waking you up.

The first thought that goes through your mind is that he's having a nightmare, but when you listen a little longer, you realize that's not the case. When your name slips from his lips, it's confirmed he's having a sex dream.

At the thought alone, you immediately get goosebumps when your gaze travels from his face down to his light dusting of hair covering his chest and abdomen, down to where the sheets cover his lower body.

You start drooling at the sight of Robert being extremely hard right now, and if you were wearing panties, they'd be ruined, so thank the heavens for sleeping naked.

''Please…'' Robert whines softly in his dream, and you've never been one to say no to him, so you crawl down the bed, pulling the sheet over his hard member and off his legs to reveal his rock-hard cock laying against his abdomen, a small trickle of precum leaking onto his stomach.

''Oh, fuck,'' you whisper as you slowly nudge his thighs apart enough to take your place between them comfortably; your warm hands slowly slide over his thighs and abdomen, avoiding him right where he needs you most.

Your lips ghost over his length as you breathe out, sending a warm feeling through him, and the groan leaving his chest makes you undeniably wetter between your legs.

When you reach his tip, you grab the base of his shaft, and your lips wrap around his tip as you suckle softly, moaning as the taste of his precum coats your tongue.

You can tell he's on the verge of waking up, so to pull him back to reality, you slowly move your head down as you take more and more of him, soft moans and whimpers leaving Robert's mouth as his fists are holding the sheet over the mattress tightly.

Once you've taken as much of him as you can, you squeeze him softly at the base before pulling back while you hollow your cheeks. This is guaranteed to wake him up, and when he groans loudly, you almost cum while you're not even being touched.

''Fuckin' hell, Gorgeous, you feel so good around my dick first thing in the morning,'' Robert says as he wipes some hair away from your face, so he can see how good you look as you suck him.

''Taste so good, Sir,'' you say sensually when you've let him go with a pop, and you feel his dick twitch in your hand before moving back down and taking him to your max again.

Robert lets his head fall back into the pillow as his hand finds its way into your hair, guiding you precisely how he likes it.

''Hmm, suck my cock like the fucking cockslut you are,'' Robert groans, and you move your free hand down to your dripping cunt, finding your clit without effort and rubbing in tight circles.

You moan around Robert, and the vibrations make him feel even better, so before he can even warn you what's happening, he's shooting his cum into your throat and mouth right as you fall apart on your fingers, as well.

''Did I make Sir feel good?'' you ask as you look at him with innocent eyes, and he pulls you up, molding his lips to yours perfectly as he explores your mouth with his tongue.

His length is poking against your entrance after his refractory period is over, and you slowly sink onto him, letting him take the lead as the two of you make sweet love together until it's time to get up and make breakfast together.

''You can wake me up like that every single day, Gorgeous,'' Robert jokes, and you smack his chest softly in answer, but you can't help but laugh at his comment.

''Who knows, maybe I'll make it a routine,'' you tease him, and you seal your comment with a soft kiss on his cheek before running off to the shower, followed by him close behind you.

[april-is]

April 7, 2024: The First Line is the Deepest, Kim Addonizio

The First Line is the Deepest Kim Addonizio

I have been one acquainted with the spatula, the slotted, scuffed, Teflon-coated spatula

that lifts a solitary hamburger from pan to plate, acquainted with the vibrator known as the Pocket Rocket

and the dildo that goes by Tex, and I have gone out, a drunken bitch,

in order to ruin what love I was given,

and also I have measured out my life in little pills—Zoloft,

Restoril, Celexa, Xanax.

I have. For I am a poet. And it is my job, my duty to know wherein lies the beauty

of this degraded body, or maybe

it's the degradation in the beautiful body, the ugly me

groping back to my desk to piss on perfection, to lay my kiss

of mortal confusion upon the mouth of infinite wisdom.

My kiss says razors and pain, my kiss says America is charged with the madness

of God. Sundays, too, the soldiers get up early, and put on their fatigues in the blue-

black day. Black milk. Black gold. Texas tea. Into the valley of Halliburton rides the infantry—

Why does one month have to be the cruelest, can't they all be equally cruel? I have seen the best

gamers of your generation, joysticking their M1 tanks through the sewage-filled streets. Whose

world this is I think I know.

--

Poetry nerd extra credit: How many repurposed bits from famous poems can you find? I count 7 and I'm probably missing some!

Also by Kim Addonizio:

+ For Desire + Mermaid Song* + Onset + My Heart

* (Weird fact: this is about her daughter, Aya Cash, who starred in the sitcom You're the Worst. What!)

Today in:

2023: Insha’Allah, Danusha Laméris 2022: To the Woman Crying Uncontrollably in the Next Stall, Kim Addonizio 2021: You Mean You Don’t Weep at the Nail Salon?, Elizabeth Acevedo 2020: Let Me Begin Again, Philip Levine 2019: Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi 2018: Siren Song, Margaret Atwood 2017: A Sunset, Ari Banias 2016: Coming, Philip Larkin 2015: The Taxi, Amy Lowell 2014: Winter Sunrise Outside a Café Near Butte, Montana, Joe Hutchison 2013: The Last Night in Mithymna, Linda Gregg 2012: America [Try saying wren], Joseph Lease 2011: Boston, Aaron Smith 2010: How Simile Works, Albert Goldbarth 2009: Crossing Over, William Meredith 2008: The World Wakes Up, Andrew Michael Roberts 2007: Hour, Christian Hawkey 2006: For the Anniversary of My Death, W.S. Merwin 2005: The Last Poem About the Snow Queen, Sandra M. Gilbert

[eddieintheocean]

Big news for hagfish fans!!

references

Bardack, D. (1991). First Fossil Hagfish (Myxinoidea): A Record from the Pennsylvanian of Illinois. Science, 254(5032), 701–703. https://doi.org/10.1126/SCIENCE.254.5032.701

Fernholm, B., & Mincarone, M. M. (2023). A new species of the hagfish genus Eptatretus (Myxinidae) from the Bahamas, western North Atlantic. Journal of Fish Biology, 102(4), 962–967. https://doi.org/10.1111/JFB.15343

Fudge, D. S., Levy, N., Chiu, S., & Gosline, J. M. (2005). Composition, morphology and mechanics of hagfish slime. Journal of Experimental Biology, 208(24), 4613–4625. https://doi.org/10.1242/JEB.01963

Hirasawa, T., Oisi, Y., & Kuratani, S. (2016). Palaeospondylus as a primitive hagfish. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40851-016-0057-0

Miyashita, T., Coates, M. I., Farrar, R., Larson, P., Manning, P. L., Wogelius, R. A., Edwards, N. P., Anné, J., Bergmann, U., Richard Palmer, A., & Currie, P. J. (2019). Hagfish from the Cretaceous Tethys Sea and a reconciliation of the morphological-molecular conflict in early vertebrate phylogeny. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 116(6), 2146–2151. https://doi.org/10.1073/PNAS.1814794116/-/DCSUPPLEMENTAL

Parasramka, V. (2023). Manufacturing synthetic Hagfish slime skeins using embedded 3D printing. https://hdl.handle.net/2142/120467

Siu, R. (2023). Additive manufacturing methods for fabricating synthetic Hagfish skeins. https://hdl.handle.net/2142/120593

Zintzen, V., Roberts, C. D., Anderson, M. J., Stewart, A. L., Struthers, C. D., & Harvey, E. S. (2011). Hagfish predatory behaviour and slime defence mechanism. Scientific Reports 2011 1:1, 1(1), 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1038/srep00131

[fangirlvibez]

The Festival Of Hearts (a Royal Au) - part 1

Characters: King!Jake “hangman” Seresin x Queen!female!reader, Royal Huntsman!Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Master of Arms!Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, lady-in-waiting!Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Royal Advisor!Robert “Bob” Floyd, King Champion!Javy “Coyote” Machado, Queen Champion!Reuben “Payback” Fitch and Queen Champion!Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia

Warnings: mention of arrange marriage, mention of dead parents, mention of killing, mention of attacking a person, inaccuracies in terms of the Middle Ages (Let me know if I forgot a warning)

Summary of the story: princess, now Queen Y/N (Y/M/N) Y/L/N was forced into marrying King Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Leaving her own kingdom, Eldoria, behind, she left to live and rule Jake kingdom, Misthaven. The time for an age-old tradition in Y/N kingdom came. Miraculously the Queen convinces Jake to invite her old village to come celebrate the tradition with them. This is the story on how the ruthless King learns how to love his Queen.

A/N: English is not my first language, so if there is any spelling or grammar errors: please let me know

Previous part - Next part - masterlist

Princess - now Queen - y/n (y/m/n) y/l/n, never saw her life going down this road. It's not like she didn't picture herself walking down the aisle to her future partner. No, she's had dreams about this magical day since she was a little princess. Sharing imaginary stories about the most important day of her life with her lady-in-waiting Natasha Trace. She knew exactly what she wanted during her wedding day. She knew what dress she wanted to wear, which colors and flowers would decorate the church, the ballroom, even the town. She knew what music should be played and what food should be served to not only other royals but the whole village. She knew what she wanted, and this was not it.

King Jacob “Hangman” Seresin of Misthaven wasn't exactly her dream partner. She wanted to get married to a partner she met herself. Someone she got the chance to meet on her own, spend time with and actually fall in love with, naturally. Not in this arranged marriage circus. She knew her father meant the best when he passed away. She knew protection was needed for their kingdom, but why? Why did her father chose King Jake, the most ruthless king to ever exist. People described him as the baddest of the bad kings. And she went through all this at the age of 19.

Y/n stood in front of King Jake. On her left side stood the priest, slowly reading from the Bible. Y/n’s hands were laying softly in Jakes hands. Her eyes drew towards Jakes face. She decided to take in his appearance while he was watching the priest talk. He didn’t seem happy to be there either. The young king shifts his gaze back to his future wife. Y/n’s eyes left his face and met his chest. He was wearing his royal suit, the Misthavens coat of arms visible on his right peck.

Her eyes traveled to her shoes and her long wedding dress. The wedding dress was beautiful, a gift from her future kingdom. But the dress was not her style, she felt like she was wearing someone else's style. This wasn’t the wedding dress she dreamed of when she was knee-high. Her eyes wondered to a decoration piece in the church. The colors were dull, or at least duller than she hoped the decorations would look like on this day.

Her eyes caught a moving foot next to the decoration she was looking at. The foot belonged to Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, the Royal Huntsman of the kingdom. He was the third and last man standing next to the king. Y/n had never talked to Bradley before. Come to think of it, she never talked to any of the Kings acquaintances, apart from Javy “Coyote” Machado, the kings champion. He was the one welcoming her into the kingdom.

Next to Bradley stood Robert “Bob” Floyd, the Royal Advisor. Looking over the four men, Y/N already liked Bob the most. He looked the nicest. He even looked like he didn’t belong there, like he belonged to a whole different kingdom, not Misthaven. Y/n’s eyes met Bobs. He could see the fear in her eyes and gave the princess an assuring smile. For whatever reason that made Y/n less nervous.

Het eyes moved over to Javy, he was looking at the priest as well. The words of the priest faded in her ears but her eyes caught the movement of Javies arms, moving to hold the pillow with both rings in front of her and Jake. It was time, time to give each other the rings.

While she was repeating the words of the priest and looking into Jakes green eyes, she felt her veil move. Natasha must of fixed her veil to make it presentable. Y/n cried tears of joy when she found out not only Natasha but also Mickey and Rueben could come with her to Misthaven and leave Eldoria. It gave her a little hope that she won’t feel alone in a new place like this.

Mickey “Fanboy” García was standing next to Natasha, following by Rueben “Payback” Fitch. The sight was odd, seeing two men stand in a place where bridesmaids should stand. But the whole place looked odd. At the doors of the church stood Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, together with three other guards. Their swords reflected in the light, ready to attack when needed.

Looking over the crowd in the church, wasn’t pleasing either. The crowd wore dull colors as well and their faces represented more like they were attending a funeral instead of a wedding. Y/n felt a pinch in her hand, her eyes met Jakes again and the words of the priest came back in her ears: “You may kiss the bride”.

————————————————————

Y/n was seated next to Jake in the carriage. Her hands layed nervously in her lap. She looked outside. The streets were filled with families, throwing rice at the newly-wedded couple. Around the carriage was Bradley and Pete with 4 other knights. The only sound Y/n could hear was the rice hitting the roof and sides of the carriage. There was no music, barely any laughter. The supposedly most joyful day of the woman’s life, wasn’t the most joyful day of her life.

A throat cleared next to her. She shifts her focus to her newly-minted husband. “Maids will show you your new room when we will arrive at the castle. You can ask them anything and they will bring it to or do it for you. There will be a celebrating dinner at 7:30 pm for your companions and mine” king Jake spoke with his deep voice. He wasn’t looking at her, but staring outside. “I will be away with Rooster until then, you can explore the castle, but I expect you to be ready when time will come.”

Y/n swallows, then asks in a small voice, “What about the villagers? When will the feast start for them?” Jake let out a chuckle, he turned his head towards her. “If the villagers want a feast to celebrate, they should organize one themself. I have more important tasks to accomplish then organize a feast on the costs of the castle.”

Y/n frowned, the kingdom of Misthaven didn’t get to celebrate their new queen? In her homeland, any big or small event was cause for a town-wide celebration. Holidays, weddings, arrivals of newborns, the castle and village wouldn't miss a moment to enjoy life. Whenever a new king or queen joined the royal line, they would organize a marvelous feast for the villagers, with live music, a huge buffet and dancing until the sun rises the next day. This wasn’t the wedding Y/n wanted, nor the life she'd imagined.

Taglist: @mirrorball-6 @corriegrace06 @dempy @the-romanian-is-bae (let me know if you want to be tagged)

[redfurrycat]

🤠🏉🥇🥊🐓Sports Fic Recs🐓🥊🥇🏉🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Abliafina, Barnes_Brain, Discosleaze, Ginnydear, Greenstuff, Halestrom, Hangmanbradshaw, Hypnagogicpunisher, idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo, Infinitejaust, KatofKanals, Marchrain, Midnight___phoenix, Ok_thanks, Playingwiththeboysisagayanthem, Vahosi, SunMonTue, Teacupivy, Trinipedia.

Different Strokes by infinitejaust {E}

{Olympic swimming}

Jake looks over at Bradshaw, who’s got his arms crossed, biceps flexed. Outside the box, huh? Jake smiles. He has a wonderful awful idea.

and they were rivals (oh my god they were rivals) by ginnydear

{NFL}

unsportsmanlike conduct {M}

He didn’t expect there to be highlight reels of him and Jake Seresin arguing and jawing at each other after their first game against each other. His Uncle Mav’s recorded it, saying it’s the beginning of his long, successful career - to have a rival. Bradley thinks it’s a pain in the ass. or - the hangster nfl au

jersey swap {M}

“I think you’re right, and I’d dare to say that’s Bradley Bradshaw next to her. He and Robert Floyd have been friends since college, if you remember that from their draft.” The camera stays on the group for a second longer and then it switches to where Floyd is standing on the sideline, a large blue coat covering his body. He’s talking to Jake Seresin and the camera catches the moment they both look up towards the stands, Floyd waving excitedly. The screen splits in time to see Natasha waving back, as well as everyone around her. or - a hangster nfl au slice of life

skills test {E}

“I don’t have all day, Bradshaw,” Jake yells, dribbling the ball a few times. Bradley pauses and bends his knees, bouncing the ball between his hands. “Such impatience,” Bradley says, starting to move the other direction. Jake takes the ball in one hand and cocks his arm back, watching with glee as Bradley’s eyes widen a bit. “Take the shot then!” or - jake and bradley are selected to the pro bowl.

play-action fake {T}

“Come home with me.” Jake breathed against Bradley’s lips. His shallow breaths break up his words, but he gets them out all the same. Bradley chuckled and brushed his thumb across Jake’s bottom lip. “I’m always gonna come home with you.” He muttered, pulling his thumb down and leaving Jake's mouth agape. or: Jake asks Bradley to come home to Texas with him

top gun hockey au by ok_thanks

{Hockey}

invisible string {M}

Jake being traded to San Diego should definitely not cause Bradley to feel so unhinged. Not at all. He can be teammates, they've done that before, except that Jake is just as annoying and attractive to Bradley as he was when they were younger.

such great heights {E}

“Not sure if it’s clear by now, but I sort of had a huge thing for you.” No words come to mind — no, scratch that. Too many words flood Jake’s brain and sit at the tip of his tongue, but none of them seem fit for expressing the gooey feeling overtaking his heart.

Sliding Series by Barnes_Brain

{Baseball}

Parts 1-6 are the original Sliding Into Home Part 7 is an Alternate Universe Where Bradley is a reliever and Jake is his catcher

Sliding into Home {E}

{Baseball player!Bradley & Social Media/In-game host!Jake}

Bradley is the star shortstop for the St. Louis Cardinals. The announcers adore him, his teammates love him, and the fans, mostly female, relish that at 29 he’s still single. Right before the start of the season he meets Jake Seresin, the new in-game host and social media admin. Jake has a smile that lights up the sun, an ass that Bradley could stare at for hours, and abs that go for days. Most important? He does not seem to give a shit about the fact that Bradley’s one of the best shortstops in the game. Jake Seresin did not expect to end up in fucking Missouri of all places, but after 4 years in the Navy to pay for a Public Relations and Communications degree? He’s gonna fucking use it. So Imagine his surprise when a moustached hunk runs into him in the tunnels of Busch Stadium. Literally. Jake won’t lie he’d climb the man in front of him like a tree, and might actually if he lets him. The only problem? He doesn’t even know what a shortstop does? When Bradley finds out Jake doesn’t know the difference between a foul post and a goal post he makes it his mission to make Jake fall in love with the sport that changed his life. He never imagined he’d get Jake falling for him instead. He wasn’t going to complain.

Caught Looking {E}

{Pitcher!Bradley & Catcher!Jake}

After spending three seasons in the Japanese Major leagues, also known as the NPB, pitcher Bradley Bradshaw has finally made it back to The Show. Signed to the Seattle Mariners, not only does he have to get reacquainted with the league, he also needs to get adjusted to their new catcher, Jake Seresin. The only problem? No one knows that they fucked through the minors together. What if the accident never happened in Sliding into Home? What if Jake actually showed up to one of Javy’s games? This is how things would change.

You gave me time to find out what my heart was lookin' for by trinipedia {E}

{Boxer-Personal Trainer!Bradley}

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a personal trainer, among other things. He specializes in preparing young actors for their next action role, but when he's given the task of turning dancer/actor Jake "Hangman" Seresin into a believable boxer, he has his work cut out for him.

An Inside The Park Home Run by Midnight___phoenix {T}

{Baseball}

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was a First round draft pick for the New York Yankees. He was highlighted while in the minors as the next best Third baseman of our generation. He likes to think the hype was true. He bats over .300 every year (well despite his rookie year where he batted .282 and ended up winning Rookie Of The Year, but he likes to think of that year as a fluke when it comes to his batting average.) and has won the Gold Glove award three times in 10 seasons in the big show. He is without a doubt one of the best current ball players. He just wishes he wouldn’t get compared to Jake “Hangman” Seresin so much.

Formula 1: Deceive to Achieve by greenstuff {E}

{F1}

When new teammates, Jake and Bradley, agree to pretend they’re in a committed relationship to land a sponsorship deal, they probably should have factored in the possibility they might fall for their own lies.

Two-Way(s) Forward by Barnes_Brain {M}

{Hockey player!Jake & Rink owner!Bradley}

Jake Seresin was the LA King’s best two-way forward, leading not only his line, but his team with the coveted C on his chest. But when an injury sends him to Bob Floyd, PT extraordinaire, in hopes of getting back on the ice, he finds a little more than a path back to his career.

Desire is the only motivation by trinipedia {M}

{Rugby}

After a life-altering accident, Bradley Bradshaw moves to Texas to change his perspective. Bradley has decided not to think about American football ever again, but the chance meeting with an arrogant Texan, Jake Seresin, might change it all, not only for him but for the aforementioned Texan, as well.

IWTBY Verse by hangmanbradshaw

{NFL QB!Jake}

I want to brainwash you into loving me forever {E}

“So…this is fucking weird and I have no clue what to say here.” Bradley smiled warmly and leaned his forearms against the table. “Don’t worry, Mav already filled me in, and I’ll do it.” Jake blinked. “You’ll do it?” “Yeah.” Bradley sat back with a nod. “You want to come out, right? If us appearing to be in a stable relationship will help, then I’m in.” Or, Jake Seresin has it all- fame, money, a NFL MVP trophy, a Super Bowl appearance, a lonely house, and a problem. He wants to come out on his own terms. Enter Bradley Bradshaw, the solution to said problem, or maybe, the beginning of a new problem. After all, you don't fall in love with your fake boyfriend.

Wanna Be Your Left Hand Man {E}

Europe calls. Jake & Bradley answer.

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings {E}

Nine months into their official relationship, Jake and Bradley navigate a new season of the NFL, life, and their relationship. Or Ice and Mav get married, the gang all celebrates, and Bradley and Jake find home in each other once again, in more ways than one.

love thorns all over this rose {_}

Bradley's friends watch him lose himself, find himself, and then find something even better. Or Bradley doesn’t really do dating, until he does. Aka Bradley pre-IWTBY, and a little during, according to Reuben, Callie, and Jonathan.

these blokes warm the benches, we been on a winning streak {E}

Bradley & Jake prepare for the next season.

this love is ours {_}

The season before their wedding throws a curveball at Jake and Bradley. But they face it as they always do- together.

Watson Wildhearts by KatofKanals {E}

{HS Football}

16 year old Bradley Bradhsaw is new to Watson, Texas in the summer of 2000 and he is downright miserable—he hates the whole town and all the people in it. That includes Jake Seresin, the star quarterback and rich boy at the top of the social pyramid. Eventually, though, Bradley starts to wonder if maybe there’s more to Watson and Jake Seresin than he saw at first glance. Maybe there’s something special there after all.

get your head in the game by abliafina {T}

{Volleyball in Corporate setting}

Hangman thought he'd thrown in the towel when it came to his volleyball days, but when Rooster, the handsome team leader from another company, invites him to join the summer tournament he knows he's done for. There were worse fates than spending the day on the beach.

Love (Suite Love) by hangmanbradshaw {T}

{NFL QB!Jake}

Jake never thought he'd leave a pop concert with a public crush. Bradley was on vocal rest. Really, he was.

sparks fly (sereshaw's version) by marchrain {T}

{College Baseball & Football}

Bradley Bradshaw, the freshman starting pitcher for Pacific Harbor University, meets Jake Seresin, the new hot-shot quarterback. He hates Jake, there's not a single thing likeable about him. He hates the way his hair is held up by gel, the look in those stupid emerald eyes of his, the fact that he's a football player of all sports—Jake's insufferable. But then, why does he enjoy their banter? Why does he like the dumb toothpick that sits between Jake's teeth? Why does his stomach flip when Jake laughs? Why do his eyes keep flicking down to Jake's lips? - or, sereshaw sports uni slice of life au

when bradley falls in love (goose & carole's version) by discosleaze {T}

{NFL QB!Jake}

Snippets of i want to brainwash you into loving me-verse, from Goose & Carole's perspectives, aka watching their son fall in love.

I talk a big game that I'm scared of losin' by hangmanbradshaw {E}

{Boxer!Bradley}

Jake's a professor ready to jump back into the dating pool, Bradley's a little rough around the edges, and Nat swears they're perfect for each other. She might be right. Or Jake dumps his loser ex and moves to California to be near Nat and Javy. Nat knows a guy, and sometimes opposites attract.

cuz you know I love the players and you love the game by hangmanbradshaw {E}

{College Baseball & Football & Cheerleading}

Jake's the star quarterback, Bradley's the star baseball captain. They both like playing games, turns out they want the same prize. Or Bradley dresses as a cheerleader for the team and Jake hates him (except that he totally doesn't)

suburban legends ✈ by vahosi

{NFL QB!Bradley}

we were born to be suburban legends {G}

unmarked numbers in my peripheral vision (july) — chapters 1-12 flush with the currency of cool (august) — chapters 13-24 where the spirit meets the bones (september) — chapters 25-36

we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game {_}

you kiss me in a way that's going to screw me up forever (october) — chapters 1-12 dare to sit and watch what we'll become (november) — chapters 13-24 my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand (december) — chapters 25-36

and they were batterymates by teacupivy {E}

{Baseball}

They’ve been teammates for just a few months now, but plenty long enough to have the whole dick-measuring-in-the-locker-room, fist-fight-on-the-field, make-up-behind-the-scenes, suddenly-best-duo-in-the-MLB speedrun.

red river rivalry by hypnagogicpunisher {M}

{College Football}

He’s heard the buzz about the new 4-star on the Texas team. It piques his interest. Oklahoma had been dominating the last few years of the rivalry, but betting odds were hot against the Sooners going into the game week, partially because of this Seresin kid. A true freshman, with his kind of stats, was a rarity. Bradley wonders just a bit what his passing stats would look like with him, who seemingly has fucking magnets for hands and the ability to stretch for a pass like he’s made of rubber. -- He can feel the frustration snaking through his body, settling with a numbness in his fingertips. At 2nd and 10, his pass is tipped and ruled incomplete. He can hear a jeer from the sideline, and he fucking knows it’s Seresin.

Team Player by SunMonTue {E}

{NRL ➡️Not an AU but fits my kinda vibes}

Jake's cousin plays for the Sydney Roosters and gifts him with merchandise. Regularly. Bradley has an unexpected realization.

he's written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind by hangmanbradshaw {E}

{College Baseball & Tennis}

Jake is absolutely not going to spend his summer vacation alone at his family's beach house with his ex boyfriend and said ex's new boyfriend. Bradley needs a place to stay for the summer. Faking a relationship solves both their problems, until it creates a new problem when they start to fall for their own ruse. Unless it ends up not being a problem at all. Or Jake's a trust fund, tennis star at Vanderbilt. Bradley's an orphaned baseball star on scholarship. Their worlds are very different, but all they need is three months in Rhode Island to build a new one together.

this is me flying, this is me trying, this is what keeps me alive (like my daddy before me and his daddy before that) by playingwiththeboysisagayanthem {E}

{Barrel Racing}

" Bradley eyed his godfather questioningly and Mav sighed again, “I either break Carole’s rules behind her back or risk never being able to see her compete,” he stroked a soft hand over the horse’s nose, “And I don’t like either option.” The silence hung in the air for a long moment before Bradley broke it, “Soooo…” Mav chuckled and then sighed again, “I guess you just got your wish, kid, 'cause it looks like I’m about to have to teach you to be a barrel racer.” " --------------- aka, what if Mav and Goose were barrel racers instead of pilots? And Bradley followed in their footsteps?

but daddy I love him by hangmanbradshaw {E}

{Boxer!Bradley}

Bradley's life is far from perfect, especially with his injury and career going up in flames. Jake Seresin's life is gilded- golden and untouchable from his castle. He's everything Bradley's not- the son of one of Manhattan's most prestigious families, and the star of the New York Ballet. He's also, unfortunately, what Bradley needs right now, his last shot at getting back in the ring. He might end up being everything Bradley didn't know he needed, in the end. And as for Jake, well, it turns out he may need more than Bradley imagined.

nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo {T}

{Olympic pole vaulting & diver}

going to the Olympics to, hopefully, win gold in pole vaulting would be a lot more fun for Bradley if Jake Seresin, diver and asshole extraordinaire, wasn't also competing and making his life miserable. or would it?

got a shot of kerosene in my veins by halestrom {E}

{Fighter!Bradley}

Fighting was the only thing Bradley could do to help his family when they found themselves in a mountain of debt, and he didn't regret it, not if it meant they would be okay. But he never expected to meet Jake Seresin, nor to get drawn deeper into a world he didn't want any part of, even though, as time wore on, he realized he wanted Jake. More than he should.

[mariacallous]

Allies of Hungary’s far-right prime minister Viktor Orbán will hold a closed-door meeting with Republicans in Washington to push for an end to US military support for Ukraine, the Guardian has learned.

Members of the Hungarian Institute of International Affairs and staff from the Hungarian embassy in Washington will on Monday begin a two-day event hosted by the conservative Heritage Foundation thinktank.

The first day includes panel speeches about the Ukraine war as well as topics such as Transatlantic Culture Wars. It is expected to feature guests including Magor Ernyei, the international director of the Centre for Fundamental Rights, the institute that organized CPAC (Conservative Political Action Conference) Hungary. Kelley Currie, a former ambassador under then president Donald Trump, said she was invited “but declined”.

According to a Republican source, some of the attendees, including Republican members of Congress, have been invited to join closed-door talks the next day.

The meeting will take place against a backdrop of tense debate in Washington over Ukraine’s future. Last week the White House warned that, without congressional action, money to buy more weapons and equipment for Kyiv will run out by the end of the year. On Wednesday Senate Republicans blocked an emergency spending bill to fund the war in Ukraine.

A diplomatic source close to the Hungarian embassy said: “Orbán is confident that the Ukraine aid will not pass in Congress. That is why he is trying to block assistance from the EU as well.”

Orbán is a frequent critic of aid to help Ukraine against the Russian invasion. Seen as Vladimir Putin’s closest ally inside the EU for the past few years, he was photographed smiling and shaking hands with the Russian president two months ago in Beijing.

Orbán recently demanded that Ukraine’s European Union (EU) membership be taken off the European Council’s agenda in December. The Hungarian leader posted on X, the platform formerly known as Twitter: “It is clear that the proposal of the European Commission on Ukraine’s EU accession is unfounded and poorly prepared.”

The Heritage Foundation is leading Project 2025, a coalition preparing for the next conservative presidential administration, and has in recent months hosted speeches by leading British Conservative party members Liz Truss and Iain Duncan Smith.

The thinktank has also been a vocal opponent of US assistance to Ukraine. Last year Jessica Anderson, the executive director of its lobbying operation, released a statement under the headline: “Ukraine Aid Package Puts America Last.” In August, Victoria Coates, Heritage’s vice-president, posted on social media: “It’s time to end the blank, undated checks for Ukraine.”

When Heritage celebrated its 50th anniversary last April, Orbán’s political director, Balázs Orbán (no relation), was invited as a speaker for the event. Heritage’s president, Kevin Roberts, repeatedly praised the Hungarian leader on X: “One thing is clear from visiting Hungary and from being involved in current policy and cultural debates in America: the world needs a movement that fights for Truth, for tradition, for families, and for the average person.”

In recent years Orbán has championed a transatlantic far-right alliance with a hardline stance against immigration and “gender ideology”, staunch Christian nationalism and scorn for those who warn of a slide into authoritarianism.

Hungary has been portrayed by conservative media as an anti-“woke” paradise and model for the United States. Some far-right Republicans, such as Kari Lake and Paul Gosar, said they would like to see the “Hungarian model” transplanted to the US, especially when it comes to immigration and family policies. CPAC went to Hungary for the second time this year, and former Fox News host Tucker Carlson shot multiple episodes in Hungary touting Orbán policies.

Orbán has returned the favour by lavishing praise on Trump. During this year’s CPAC, where Roberts was also featured as a speaker, he claimed that if Trump were president, “there would be no war in Ukraine and Europe”. The Hungarian prime minister has criticised the multiple federal indictments against the former US president and called the judicial procedure a “very communist methodology” in a recent interview with Carlson.

Dalibor Rohac, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute thinktank in Washington, said: “The Hungarian embassy in DC has been very active lately, trying to repair ties with the Republicans and strengthen them where it’s appropriate.

“It is also not surprising that Heritage is the venue of these talks because they are different from other thinktanks in DC; they are more partisan, and their funding model heavily overlaps with the Trump base.”

But, Rohac said, despite his good relations with some Republicans it was “unlikely” that Orbán would have any leverage over US funding for Ukraine.

Supporters of Ukraine have also been making their case to Republicans in Congress. This week David Cameron, the British foreign secretary, held meetings on Capitol Hill. He told a press conference: “I am sure that goodwill will prevail and the money will be voted through, and it will have a huge effect not just on morale in Ukraine but also making sure that European countries keep asking themselves what more can they do.”

[brooklynbutterflyarts]

King Kong Movie Poster Framed King Kong Framed Movie Poster Dry mounted on a vacum press for a perfectly flat and smooth finish. This magnificent framed poster is printed at the highest resolution and thick specially coated paper for maximum detail and color brilliance. You will be amazed at the bright brilliant colors, contrast and detail of the print. King Kong is a 1933 American pre-Code monster adventure film[4] directed and produced by Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack. The screenplay by James Ashmore Creelman and Ruth Rose was developed from an idea conceived by Cooper and Edgar Wallace. It stars Fay Wray, Bruce Cabot and Robert Armstrong, and opened in New York City on March 2, 1933, to rave reviews. It has been ranked by Rotten Tomatoes as the fourth greatest horror film of all time[5] and the thirty-third greatest film of all time. The film portrays the story of a huge, gorilla-like creature dubbed Kong who perishes in an attempt to possess a beautiful young woman (Wray). King Kong contains stop-motion animation by Willis O'Brien and a music score by Max Steiner. In 1991, it was deemed "culturally, historically and aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress and selected for preservation in the National Film Registry.[7] A sequel quickly followed with Son of Kong (also released in 1933), with several more films made in the following decades.

[hummingbird-of-light]

Round 2: Third story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: Dressing For Revenge

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Original Male Character(s)

Relationship(s): /

Rating: M

Words: 1,525

Prompt: Defeated and Trophified

Warnings: Graphic Depiction Of Violence, Threats of Slaughter, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Selkie

(You can also find this story on AO3)

A/N: This story is based on my fanfiction "Call of the Sea"

~ Dressing For Revenge ~

1788, Orkney Islands

The strangest feeling off all. That was the only way Robert could describe what it felt like when he stripped off his fur and two long bare things grew where his tail fin usually was.

And not only that part of him was changing. When he stared at his reflection in the water he saw that his whole appearance was morphing into that of his kind's worst enemy.

The appearance of a human.

Robert bared his teeth in anger.

Humans. These monsters were the ones who took everything.

The Selkie's fish and their habitat and their family members. Humans were cruel and scary and horrible! His mother had always warned Robert about them. And not just him. His brother too.

The Selkie whimpered at the thought of his older brother. Not too long ago Montgomery had turned into his human form in order to save Robert from a human who had taken him. Montgomery had succeeded but the human had managed to burn his fur. And by doing that he had doomed Montgomery to stay in his human form for the rest of his life.

Montgomery had left the islands together with more humans. Nice humans - that's what his brother had called them. Aye... they had even helped him to save Robert.

Well, maybe there actually were friendly human beings, but Robert knew one that was the monster their mother had always described to the brothers.

The man who had taken him. The man who had wanted to dissect and kill him. The man who had taken his brother from him.

When Robert had found the shiny sharp thing that humans called dagger on the ground of the sea, he knew exactly what he needed to do with it.

And there he was, standing on his human feet, the dagger in his slim human fingers.

He would find him. He would find the man who had destroyed his life. And then? Then he would make him pay for it.

~

It didn't take him too long to find the cabin where the human was living. It was right at the sea. A small home with a boat.

Robert clenched his jaw.

A boat the man used to hunt his kind. A boat the Selkie needed to destroy.

But first, he wanted to end the man himself. He wanted to still his hunger for revenge.

So he sneaked up to the cabin and looked through one of the glassen stones, the humans called windows.

A smile formed on Robert's lips as he saw the human fast asleep. It was just perfect! All he needed to do was sneak inside the house and stab the sharp dagger into the human's body. His grandfather had once told him that that was a way to kill these monsters.

Robert stared down at his furry coat. Since it was a very cold night, he had tied it around his body so that it could warm him.

His eyes fell onto the flames burning in the fireplace inside the cabin. He needed to put them out so that the man didn't have the chance to throw his coat into them, in case he woke up.

But that would probably wake him up anyway.

No... Robert just had to be fast enough. He needed to sneak inside, stab the human and then get back into the water.

An easy plan. A good plan.

~

Slowly, Robert opened the door and he winced when it made a squeaking sound. The Selkie quickly stared at the man in bed and noticed that he hadn't moved. He let out a sigh of relief and took one step forward.

A huge mistake.

It all happened way too fast. Before he knew what was happening, something dropped down from above him and seconds later Robert was lying on the wooden ground of the cabin, wriggling and squirming helplessly.

A net!

A cold chuckle caused Robert to stop moving and he watched in horror as the man who had appeared to be asleep only moments ago, stepped in front of him, grinning down at what he had caught.

"Well, well... what do we have here? A great catch!"

Robert gritted his teeth and he started to squirm once more while the human's gaze fell upon the coat the helpless intruder was wearing.

"Now, if it isn't my wee friend, eh? How lovely of ye to come visit me again."

Forcefully, the man grabbed the net and pulled it further inside the cabin so that he could close the door.

Robert yelped in surprise and for one moment he was paralyzed with fear, but then he remembered the weapon he was carrying with him.

Firmly determined, he used the dagger to cut a whole into the net and once he had shaken it off, he instantly lunged at the human.

Unfortunately though, the Selkie wasn't used to walking and fighting on legs, and the man was stronger and faster. Robert was merely able to inflict one cut to the man's face before this one disarmed him and pushed him to the hard ground.

"My, my. We have a wee fighter here, I see. Not as strong as yer brother though, are ye?"

At hearing Montgomery being mentioned, another wave of anger washed over Robert and he let out an inarticulated cry, trying to get to his feet again. He didn't get too far though. The human kicked him into his ribs and the Selkie could only whimper in pain as he hit the floor again.

He yelped when the man grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head backwards. Then he sat down on his legs to keep him down.

"Ye really chose a perfect timing to come back to me, ye know? I didn't catch a lot of fish in the past few days, but ye'll make a nice stew. And I'm sure yer head will look great above the fireplace."

The man forcefully grabbed the furry coat and started to cover Robert's body with it.

"Let's see how this works. If my studies are right, we're gonna need a little bit of this."

From the corner of his eye, Robert could see that the man was reaching for a nearby bucket of water. He shook his head, eyes wide.

When the water soaked through his coat and he slowly started to turn back into a seal, the Selkie could hear the human laughing loudly.

"It works! It actually works! Perfect!"

Robert yolwed and moved his fin tail back and forth to shove the man off of him, but he wasn't strong enough.

He squeezed his eyes shut in fear when he heard the voice next to his ear.

"Let's cut you open, shall we?"

There was a sharp pain in his left flank and Robert yelped and whimpered as the human slowly started to cut out a big piece of fat and meat. He felt blood rushing from his body and his heart was beating out of his chest from the pain and panic.

He would kill him. The human would kill him. And then he would make a trophy out of him. A trophy to show everyone what kind of monster humans were.

And then... all of Montgomery's efforts would have been in vain.

Montgomery.

Tears filled the Selkie's eyes at the thought of his brother and suddenly he found new strength.

He wouldn't let this happen! He wouldn't let Montgomery's sacrifice be in vain!

Once again, he twisted and turned and this time, he was somehow able to throw the human off. In the process, the man's head hit the edge of the bed and he dropped to the ground unconsciously.

Robert looked at him for a moment, then his eyes fell onto the fireplace. A grim smile formed on the Selkie's lips as he weakly stripped off his fur again and turned back into his human form.

He gathered all the wood he could find and threw it into the flames, causing the fire to grow and grow and when he was sure that it would swallow the whole cabin in no time, Robert glanced at the human one last time.

The monster would die, would burn just like Montgomery's fur.

And when he left the building that was quickly starting to catch fire, Robert knew that he had gotten the revenge he had longed for.

His feet carried him towards the sea and he hurried to put his coat back on. He didn't even look at the trail of blood that was following him. The waves would wash it away sooner or later.

When the water, his home, engulfed his body and he turned back into a seal, he let himself sink deeper and deeper.

He knew that he wouldn't get back to his mother. His grandfather. His friends.

He was too weak to swim. He could only let his body float through the deep water of the sea.

And when he closed his eyes and gave in to the feeling of fatigue, his last thoughts were with his brother.

'I'm sorry, a bhràthair. I'm sorry that I didn't make it.'

[filled-with-fat]

The Wall Street whale 🐳🫦🐳

- story credits; dennisgroww

*Alarm beeps*

It’s 6:30 on Monday the 1st September. A sleepy, Oscar DeLuca pulls himself out of bed, heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the toilet, then puts on his freshly-steamed suit. He quickly has a bite of toast, before he grabs his briefcase and rushes out the door. Oscar, a 6ft1, brown-haired and blue eyed, native New Yorker, recently landed a highly-contested job as an intern at Goldman Sachs. It’s his first day.

*8:00*

The office is a hive of activity. Each employee moves as if unseeing hands drag them this way and that, drawing their attention to one thing and then another. It’s overwhelming for Oscar, and the other interns: Benji Greenly, Olivia Hall, Leo Carter and Noah Roberts. It’s no surprise the added stress of a new job, in one of the worlds most hyperactive investment banks, leads to excessive weight gain of interns.

*8:30*

All the interns, along with all the senior officials at the office, are called into the meeting room for the morning’s discussion. General conversation about the aims for increased investment and revenue was lead by the CEO and other shareholders. Afterwards, the CEO and his colleagues made their annual predictions as to which intern would become the ‘wall street whale’ (the fattest intern) by the end of the year. David M. Solomon, the CEO of Goldman Sachs international, suggested Oscar DeLuca as the future ‘wall street whale.’

*10:30*

Already feeling overwhelmed by the workload and expectations thrusted onto the interns, Oscar and Leo decide it’s time for a quick break. They head to the coffee station located near the lift shaft. Leo pours himself a coffee, whilst Oscar helps himself to the triple-glazed chocolate doughnuts - specifically reserved for interns.

*12:45*

Lunch break. All the interns head to the ground floor food court, and order at the ‘Grimelda’s’ Restaurant. Curiously, despite ordering a Caesar Salad and bruschetta, Oscar was bought a ‘Grimelda’s special double burger, with twice-garnished fries.’ Full knowing of the short 30 minute lunch break interns were given, and not wishing to waste time reordering, Oscar willingly ate the burger and fries.

*17:00*

Home time.

The next day, Oscar again, unintentionally, devoured a calorific foods throughout the course of the day. At 11:15, Oscar went to the toilet to gather himself after feeling queasy, there he found a whole tray of untouched, freshly cooked Beignets, coated in sugar. Oscar tried one, before finishing the whole tray after realising that food made the anxious feelings in his stomach subside. At Lunch, Oscar’s order was gotten wrong again, this time he was presented with two, full-sized, pepperoni pizzas. During the afternoon, when Oscar ordered a coffee from the cafe near the lift shaft, he was presented with a thick chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and marshmallows on top.

After his first week, Oscar had become concerned as to why he was consistently being presented with fatty, weight-encouraging, foods and drinks. However, Oscar accepted that it was purely coincidental, and he thought nothing more of it.

Slowly Oscar’s body morphed into a blob of fat, unrecognisable from the attractive, athletic man he once was. All the tempting foods he had been consuming at work had built him a swole belly, it nested in his lap, and rolled behind into his back fat. Oscar’s moobs we’re larger than the average female’s, and his butt was so fat the company had to get him a reinforced chair so as he could sit comfortably at his desk. He hadn’t thought twice about why he was no longer this muscly man and instead had become an obese intern. Whenever, he felt pressure or queasy feelings in his stomach, Oscar would reach for a bag of sweets often mysteriously placed at the edge of his desk, or he would waddle over to where the doughnuts were, and eat several. Sometimes, when he was sobbing in the bathroom after being shouted at by a senior employee, Oscar would somehow find lollipops, beignets or hot dogs on a tray by the sinks, he always filled his stomach with these before returning to his hefty body to his desk.

One morning, at 6:30 when his alarm went off, Oscar was struggling to get out of bed, more so than usual. He tried to use what was left of his inactive stomach muscles, buried under a mountain of flab, to lift his body up and out of bed - to no avail. Oscar had to call his best friend, who lived two apartment blocks down the street, to come over and heave his mass out of bed. Oscar jokily said to him that he was ‘just exhausted’ after a tough day at work yesterday. But the truth was, Oscar had gotten so fat from all the unhealthy foods he was now consuming, that he had reached the obese point where it was a struggle to perform daily tasks. This made Oscar rethink why there were always calorific foods left out at work. He decided to raise it with his other colleagues. Oscar advocated that it was strange there were always processed foods laid out around the office; his colleague, Olivia Hall, said she had noticed this too, and that she had felt obliged to eat the sweet treats. She went on to say that last week she overheard Mr Solomon, the CEO, laughing in his office about how morbidly obese Oscar DeLuca had gotten. Immediately Oscar’s face went bright red with embarrassment. He realised what had been happening. The boss had left out calorific foods for each intern, and delighted in watching them cave in and uncontrollably devour the fat-filled foods left out for them.

The next day, Oscar was called into a whole company meeting, including several oversees partners. Oscar wasn’t given a seat, he had to stand for the entire meeting. Oscar’s body crippled under his massive weight, his huge belly, sagging beneath his thighs and covering his huge fat pad, weighed down his back, his enormously thick thighs struggled under their weight. Within five minutes, Oscar was out of breath, red-faced and desperately leaning on the office wall to support his morbidly obese body. Sweat dripped down his fatty cheeks and triple chin. Soon the boss asked if Oscar was alright, everyone was now staring at this morbidly obese, red-faced intern, who had a belly as fat and wide as the door he tried to squeeze through. Suddenly everyone began cheering for Oscar, the whole meeting room burst out in applause, Mr Solomon congratulated Oscar, letting him know he had won the title of ‘wall street whale,’ embarrassed, Oscar waddled his weight to accept the award.

[frankiesbugs]

Okay some of these I haven't read so I can't 100% endorse (I'll asterisk those). It seems like you really like a more reflective/meditative book than a huge plot so that's what I'm prioritizing.

Monstrilio by Gerardo Sámano Córdova*

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke (I LOVED this book, best to go in blind)

The Imperial Radch series by Ann Leckie (hard scifi)

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells (if you want something a little lighter)

The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa

Not exactly new but if you haven't read any Shirley Jackson I'd start with The Haunting of Hill House

Sea of Rust by C. Robert Cargill*

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers*

The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami

Light Years From Home by Mike Chen

This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno

The Luminous Dead + The Death of Jane Lawrence by Caitlin Starling (Two very different books but I really enjoyed both. The latter of which is kind of Crimson Peak if Crimson Peak was extra weird)

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M Danforth (A real TOME of a book, back and forth in time sapphic horror)

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer (less magical realism and more surrealism but the books are VERY different from the movie and definitely worth checking out)

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots (very dry and darkly funny superhero book

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno Garcia

The Water Dancer by Ta Nehisi Coates

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward*

basically anything by Rivers Solomon

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah* (haven't gotten to this yet but I've heard nothing but good things)

Babel by R.F. Kuang*

Nothing But the Rain by Emily Salman* (this sounds a lot like The Memory Police but idk for sure)

If you're looking for modern magical realism, I'd especially keep an eye out for African American/African Diasporic authors (Rivers Solomon, Colson Whitehead, Toni Morrison, etc etc).

Sorry if this is overwhelming!

I think you grasped my tastes because I've read some of the books you mentioned already. <3

Thank you SOOO MUCH! And thanks for adding authors from all over the world!

[verifiedaccount]

“But:

And:

Then:”

The Eater of Darkness

Robert M. Coates

1926