#calvin weir fields x you

[always-andromeda]

Drunk on Halloween || Calvin Weir-Fields x Fem!Reader

Calvin Weir Fields x Fem!Reader

Word Count || 3,195

Summary || Calvin is aching for one night of peace; a bottle of wine, a cheesy horror movie, and the love of his life. However, some trick-or-treaters have different plans in mind.

Author’s Note || can you guys tell that I'm a Calvin apologist with this one? can you guys tell that even though I think he can be toxic as fuck, I'd sell my left nipple for a dime to have him just for a night? am I writing this note at four in the morning and that's why it's so unhinged? mind your own business, perhaps.

Warnings || smut (minors, do not interact or I will dip you into an ooky spooky vat of acid <3), thigh riding, slight use of pet names (Calvin calls the reader a good girl like twice lol), Calvin is an uptight little freak, reader is just in for a good time (good for her), nothing else I can think of!!

"Work all night on a drink of rum, daylight come and me wan' go home..."

Calvin pulls away from your neck, nearly breathless, "Are you really going to do that?"

You continue singing quietly but dramatically from underneath him, "Stack banana 'til the mornin' come, daylight come and me wan' go home..."

"Are you kidding me?" He groans.

"Come Mister Tally Man, tally me banana, daylight come and me wan' go home..."

Hair flopping forward, Calvin's head tips downward, mere millimeters from being buried in your chest, "Wow. You're really committing to this."

You giggle at his expense, "It's not my fault you decided to start something right before the dinner scene."

With nearly every night having been a movie night, you'd waited for something like this. However, you knew that tonight was likely that night as soon as Calvin pulled out a bottle of red wine, insisting that he bring some modicum of culture to the table. A few glasses later and all he'd manifested was a heavy haze that came to smother both of your lazily lounging figures.

Calvin says in disbelief, "I've never seen this before, how was I supposed to know what this scene would turn you into?"

"You should know because you know me, Cal." you slur.

He sounds even more tired than he really is when he replies, "I doubt that more and more with each passing day." Then he shakes his head as if he's actually upset. Your lighthearted demeanor dulls.

Voice softening, your hand rests on his cheek, "Hey, why does it matter? We're having fun, right?"

Calvin watches your eyes go wide, staring at him wearily. It reminds him a little of how his mother would look at him when he was upset. Like he was a child who'd thrown a fit. The next thing he was expecting out of your mouth was something akin to, "There, there, Calvin. It's okay." He can't tell if that annoys or comforts him.

"I guess..." he sighs.

You ask, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The cogs in Calvin's head turn as he tries to figure out exactly what had ruffled him so much. You never let him get away with passive aggression. He's not even sure why he does it in the first place; there's something that tells him there's no chance that anyone would even care why he was frustrated. So why should he bother to even try verbalizing it?

Your dumb runs over his cheekbone, "Cal, what's wrong?"

He begins shakily, "You know...I like when things go to plan..."

Your tone is laced with a little giggle, "So you were just planning to fuck me ahead of time? Is that how all of our sexual encounters go?"

"Don't call it that."

Your smile turns into a full grin as you stare incredulously, "What? Fucking? You mean what we've been doing for months?"

Immediately clamming up, Calvin replies, "It's just...it's not romantic when you say it like that."

You laugh, "Ah, because having sex while drunk on your couch is peak romance." Calvin watches your finger slide down the bumped bridge of his nose before you tap the tip.

Something in the teasing action makes him lighten. Maybe it's the fact that he swears he saw you wink afterwards. Or maybe it was the way the light from the television and the shadows of the darkness twisting and tricking his imagination. Or maybe he's just sick of worrying; maybe he's finally hit the threshold between his nervousness and his want. 

He mumbles, "It could be."

You scoff, "You're so silly."

"Says the one who wanted to put me in fishnets and a corset." He reminds you of the conversation that took place during one of your previous Halloween movie nights. The film: Rocky Horror Picture Show. You had laughed while comparing him to the hero of the film, teasing him with breathy repetitions of the line, "Oh, Brad." He'd scowled and rolled his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered every time he heard it. It reminded him far too much of other sounds he'd heard you say.

"I stand by the fact that you were made to be Brad."  You add daringly, "And I think you would've looked super hot in them. I probably would've gotten undressed half an hour ago if you looked like that." Then you looked at him; eyelids at half mast and finger running down one of his arms bracing the weight of his body over you. His skin shivers at the languid movements. He wishes he wasn't wearing a damned sweater so he could feel the soft drag of your nails.

He hears the resigned lyric of Brad Majors ring in his skull, Damn it, Janet. I love you.

Without a second thought he dives back in, delivering a swift kiss that quickly turns more fervent as he tastes more of the dark red wine from earlier. Or maybe the taste is on his own taste buds. He's not entirely sure and he's far too lost in the moment to really differentiate the flavors. All he knows is that the view of you beneath him is alluring and convincing him that his timing is auspicious. Your fingers tangle in his hair, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

He moans right as the song playing ends and breathes, "Can I touch you?"

Though you hear his desperate question just fine, you decide to taunt him a little bit more. "Huh?"

Calvin demonstrates an unusual level of assertion when he fishes around the top the couch and grabs the remote, mashing a button to lower the volume of the television until the movie was almost completely silenced.

You can now hear his khaki covered knee slide up the upholstery of the couch, slow as it eases comfortably between your own legs and presses just slightly against you. It's just enough pressure on your clit that you begin to ache for more. More movement. More warmth. More tension. He's close enough that you can practically see yourself coming down from your high already. Then Calvin repeats himself, rewording the question to reflect his insistence.

"I want to touch you."

You don't dare laugh now. You're too busy teetering on the edge of something big, you can taste it in the back of your throat. 

"Please," you croak.

No matter how indifferent he can come off at times, Calvin can't be cruel to you. Instead, he's immensely satisfied with himself as he kisses you again, allowing his tongue to slip between your own lips. He takes as much as he wants and gives just a little more, allowing you some purchase from the heady tease of his knee grinding a little further against your pussy.

Wrenching away from the kiss, you regress into a pleading, mewling tangle of arousal, "Calvin, please-- please just let me...let me--"

His low voice bites you in an almost fatal way. "Let you what? Let you fuck yourself on my leg?"

You like the way the curse leaves his lips. Somehow, a man like Calvin can make the most vulgar words sound poetic even as he practically spits them at you. It makes more heat pool between your legs. It makes you fucking whimper for him. This is a rare form for both of you.

With you regurgitating the same cry of, "Please, Calvin, please..." He lets out his own chuckle.

"I'll let you move soon." He promises, "I just want to touch you first."

Calvin stays true to his word, anchoring a hand on your hip, rubbing circles with his thumb on your hip bone. Your sweater had begun to ride up your torso, exposing your soft stomach and the underside of your chest. Calvin lips curl at the sight of the pumpkin patterned sweater than matched his own. The idea of getting matching holiday sweaters had sounded terribly romantic; something he's sure he'd read in some romance novel as a teenager and simply filed it away in his subconscious. Now he finds his head filling with less than romantic thoughts as his fingers graze the hem of the brown, knitted garment and he realizes that underneath the silly sweater, you're not wearing a bra.

His hand wanders, caressing your side until it disappears entirely underneath the sweater. Cold fingers brush against your ribs and your breath hitches. With the television turned down, Calvin hears it and attempts to amend it by bringing his mouth to your jaw, peppering imprecise, open mouthed kisses along it until he reaches your ear. 

He whispers that you're pretty. So pretty as you gasp when his hand finally reaches one of your rounded breasts. He wastes no time focusing on the nipple, swiping his thumb over it carefully. And there it is again: the want that is just dying to keep building. It leaves your clit feeling like it's been set on fire. Another string of miserable pleas leave your lips as you turn your head to the side.

You stare at the television screen now, watching as the titular Beetlejuice torments Lydia's father. Despite the volume being turned all the way down, you know the line that comes out of his mouth. But, even then, you don't have it in you to utter, "We've come for your daughter, Chuck." because fuck, you need to come first.

Calvin takes a hold of your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently turning your head back to stare into his eyes, blown out and glassy just from feeling your skin. Your breath is raggedly trailing through your burning lungs. 

Pitying you just enough, Calvin grants you the permission you've been waiting for. "You can move now." He says simply, as if he isn't just as worked up as you are. As if he isn't just waiting for you to ruin his pants; as if he isn't already preparing himself for the gloating he'll get to do when he does laundry tomorrow.

You respond eagerly but not to get too ahead of yourself, not wanting to unravel the knot inside you too quickly. You rock against his knee with smooth, unwaveringly slow motions. Calvin notices your restraint and lets praise drip from his tongue like raw honey, "Good girl...good girl."

The pet name sounds marginally awkward coming from him, but you're too far gone to second guess it. You let it spur you on even more when your thigh brushes against his erection. Based on how solid it is, you can't even imagine how much control it's taking him to hold back from letting himself get off. And a part of you is proud that just the feeling of your supple skin under his palms and your breathy cries were enough to get him that good. So you offer him a little relief by pulling him down on you, giving your thigh more of a chance to graze him fully.

Beautifully, Calvin groans shakily at the friction. Though it doesn't compare to being inside of you in the slightest, the mere movements are just enough to begin brewing his own climax.

Before too long, you're a tangled mess, hopelessly humping against each other on the couch, the movie long forgotten as you both aim to reach your releases. It only serves to provide mood lighting that flashes against your faces, illuminating how Calvin's expression contorts gracefully with the pleasure. He squeezes your breast with every restricted stroke against your thigh, making you whimper. It's a slurry of heaving chests, uneven breaths, and messily placed kisses and you both inch closer and closer to the end.

You're ascending the final hill, seconds away from the peak. Every time your clothed clit brushes against his knee, you feel your climax slowly and steadily clicking continually, just about to slot right into place when--

"Happy Halloween, Calvin Weird-Fields!" you manage to hear the yell faintly through your lust filled haze. You try to ignore it and continue rutting against him. But Calvin's hand leaves the confines of your sweater, hastily pulling it down over your torso before scrambling off of you. Your climax careens backwards down the hill, leaving you high and dry and ready to tear your hair out.

"Wait--" you barely have a chance to get an extra word in when he sits up.

He raises a finger quickly, shushing you.

Then you hear it again, a similar voice screaming from outside, "Yeah, happy fucking Halloween, Weird-Fields!"

"You've got to be kidding me. Not again." Calvin groans to himself before clambers away to his front door, barely having enough of a grip on himself to smooth his hair back. With the movie and you and the swiftly fading arousal fading, the tension returns to his shoulders, promptly weighing him down.

By the time he gets out the door, the teenagers have gotten back on their bicycles. They pull Halloween masks back over their faces and have already begun to ride back down the hill. At the risk of sounding too much like his late father, Calvin holds back the urge to yell obscenities back at them. He can't even think of the words to accurately express his anger anyways. 

He just turns back, staring at the stark white stucco of his two story home, now adorned with garlands of toilet paper. Right then, you emerge from the entrance, following him out to the little concrete sidewalk at the front of his home and looking at the damage. This time, the one thing keeping you from chuckling at the sight is the outrage clearly radiating from your boyfriend.

Calvin reaches up, only just tall enough to reach a strand that hangs down. Though he tugs on it gently, it rips off quickly, leaving him with two and a half pitiful squares of toilet paper in his grasp. 

His voice wobbles with frustration, "Are you-- you've gotta be kidding me." He jumps a little this time, reaching for the same sheet as it flutters in the wind, pulling off yet another few squares that he crumples in his trembling fist.

You watch him begin to breathe heavily, his lip quivering as he only works himself up more and more.

You reach out to lay a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, honey, stop..." but that doesn't quite catch his attention. You repeat firmly, "Calvin, stop."

He whips around and shoots you a venomous reply, "What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?"

"I don't know. Can't you pay someone to come out and clean it up?" A guy as wealthy and with as many connections as he did had to know someone who would be willing to take care of the mess.

"How the fuck am I going to get someone out here tonight?" he continues to rant, "Why the fuck are those kids even allowed to be out after dark? 

You raise your voice, "Calvin!"

"What?" he snaps.

"You don't need to worry about this right now. Why don't we just go back inside and--"

"What's the point?" he laughs dejectedly, "The night's already ruined anyways."

"It isn't ruined." you insist.

"Yes, it is. They fucked it up and I fucked it up even more and fuck it's all just fucking fucked." His tone only gets more irritated as he rambles on, dropping the crumpled toilet paper squares to the concrete and running his quivering hand through his hair once more.

This hadn't been the first time those teenagers had done something like this. It started with them leaving empty beer bottles on his sidewalk after drunkenly laughing on his porch all night. Calvin had heard the antics of course, but had been too hesitant to do anything. He just hoped they'd go away. So he simply recycled the bottle and thought that was the last of it. But they were spoiled rich kids that lived in the hills and were determined to make the pretentious author's life a living hell.

The last incident, weeks before this, had almost been the straw that broke the camel's back. They'd managed to get their hands on a copy of one of his books and torn the pages out, crumpling them up and littering the bushes in front of the entrance with them. Placed directly on his doormat was the bent and destroyed cover. They'd taken permanent markers to the duster jacket and written insults all over it. Most of them were childish scribblings. The one that stuck up to him most was the simple addition of an extra "D" in his name.

Thus came the creation of the most clever quip these teenagers had against him: Calvin Weird-Fields.

It was silly, he knew it and his cheeks grew red every time he thought about it. But it only ever reminded him of growing up being the prodigal genius. Most people thought he was brilliant. That presented a certain set of issues, all laced with a paradoxical sense of narcissism and self loathing. But the people that insisted he'd peaked during his teenage years? That opened up a brand new avenue of anxieties, ones that made him feel sick to his stomach every time he thought of them.

He really was nothing special. Just a kid who got lucky once. And he'd never amount else aside from that. Those bratty teenagers would probably do more than he ever had managed to do in his few decades of life.

Feeling your hands set on his shoulders once more, you bring him back into the moment. "Calvin. It's late. We can worry about this tomorrow. We're both kind of drunk and I'm sure we're both really tired. So why don't we go back inside and try to get some sleep?"

Eyes glazed over, he stares back at you blankly through his tortoiseshell glasses.

You continue, bringing your hands down to his and hold them tightly in yours, hoping he can feel your sincerity in the touch. "Honey," Right as you start, you remember his words from earlier. "Just because things didn't go exactly to plan, it doesn't mean everything is fucked. We're going to be just fine. We'll figure it out in the morning."

"We?"

Your head tilts bittersweetly, affected entirely by his tenderness and all too aware that he's still too used to going at things alone. You can't imagine what it's like being stuck in his head sometimes; caught between a self aggrandizing front and an inner voice that is probably far more critical of himself than even the harshest reviewer.

"Yes. We." you answer finally. "Now can we go inside? I'm getting really fucking cold. Maybe you can warm me up." With the chunky sweater you're wearing, it's obviously a complete lie. But you don't think Calvin notices or cares. 

The anger starts to melt away and he squeezes your hands in his before bringing them to his lips and giving them a chaste kiss. You see his gloomy green eyes are misty with the beginnings of a few tears that he quickly wipes away with the sleeve of his own sweater.

"That sounds nice." he concludes quietly, letting you lead him back inside his apartment.

#danonation #paul dano #danocel #ruby sparks #calvin weir fields #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields x you #calvin weir fields x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

[abrcmswrld]

Can you give us some Calvin, and celebrity ( actor/model/singer, you can pick ) reader head-cannons ♡ ♡

Calvin Weir-Fields x Actor!Reader

Authors Note: My first request! Ah!! Thank you anon, I hope this isn’t too short. I think I’d like to keep this dynamic in mind for a possible longer fic in the future but for now enjoy some headcanons!

Warnings: Literally like one suggestive sentence, the rest is pretty fluffy with some typical Calvin jealousy

It takes Calvin a bit to adjust to dating an actor. I mean, you’re talented, he knows this. You’re actually made for this job, and he can’t help but notice how happy you look doing so. But he can’t seem to fight off that tingling in his stomach that comes with watching you interact with your male coworkers.

It’s a bad habit that’s carried on through past relationships and yet he thinks to himself ‘you have to give him credit for trying!’ He’s been a good boy. Hasn’t brought up how much he hates the way that your male coworker brushes your arm in that one scene.

It’s why he loves attending those red carpet events with you. Sure, it’s not an event to celebrate him, but it makes him feel just as good to have you dressed up and holding the bend of his elbow. It makes him feel such pride having the cameras capturing your beauty next to him. Ah yes that’s his partner. You come home to him at the end of the day and nobody else.

It fuels his fantasies in the bedroom. He waits till he has you totally bare and pressed close to him to growl out a quick “You’re mine.” You don’t mind, because yes, you’re all his. You knew he was a jealous person from the start, but you can tell he holds it in. It’s something you can appreciate. Of course it hasn’t always been that way.

You had brought Calvin to a special premiere of the latest movie you had worked on. It’s not a romance film by any means but there is a bit of love interest drama that involved a quick kiss scene between your character and your costar’s character. You hadn’t told Calvin about the kiss during the filming, because well, how do you even bring that sort of thing up. Would he even want to know? Maybe that one was on you.

The car ride home was quiet. You dread the worst, hell maybe he just didn’t enjoy the movie. As soon as you’re parked outside your shared apartment, you sigh. “Did you not enjoy the movie?” He only stares at you for a second. You cannot meet his eyes. “It was a fine movie. I just wish-“ He stops himself, giving himself a second to find the words he needs to use. “Why didn’t you tell me about the kiss?”

You’re picking at your cuticles and looking down. “I guess I just didn’t think it was a big deal. It’s just part of the job. When you’ve done it for long enough you learn to tune those things out.” You finally meet his eyes. “I’m your boyfriend. Don’t you think I deserve to know when you’re kissing other men at work?”

You’re stunned by his words as they hold a slight edge to them that is crossing the line. “Calvin, it’s my job. I’m sorry for not telling you and if it’ll make you feel better I will take that into consideration for the future, but you can’t be disrespectful.” You can see his eyes soften. It takes him a moment to respond, seemingly wrestling with an internal compass. He settles on a quiet whisper, “I’m sorry.”

You give him a reassuring smile before giving his lips a deep kiss. It leaves his eyelids heavier as he tries to lean in for more, only to stopped by your finger on his lips. “It’s okay. Let’s go inside, I’m starving.”

He secretly loves a couple of paparazzi experiences. Although you may loath them, they make him feel so incredibly special being seen out holding your hand and hugging you close. He also loves when he is asked about you and your inspirations on his writings in interviews. He could talk about you all day.

At the end of the day, Calvin has learned to embrace the talents each of you have and the life that you share with each other. He will always bring you flowers to your rare theater performance. You will always give him feedback on his rough drafts. He will always give you a smile and acknowledge your presence in the audience of his book readings.

In your collective world full of fame and fiction, you can always bask in the warm calm of Calvin’s arms wrapped around you as you sleep. It’s the one thing you can enjoy for yourselves without all of the eyes on you, and you’re so grateful for that feeling.

In your collective world full of fame and fiction, you can always bask in the warm calm of Calvin’s arms wrapped around you as you sleep. It’s the one thing you can enjoy for yourselves without all of the eyes on you, and you’re so grateful for that feeling.

In your collective world full of fame and fiction, you can always bask in the warm calm of Calvin’s arms wrapped around you as you sleep. It’s the one thing you can enjoy for yourselves without all of the eyes on you, and you’re so grateful for that feeling.

#calvin weir fields #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields x you #paul dano #ruby sparks #danonation #paul dano x reader #anon request #calvin weir fields headcanons #paul dano headcanons

[lost-in-sokovia]

the wizarding world of the weir-fields

my first calvin fic, and it’s a halloween one🤭

warnings: none, fluff with no plot🤪

“amuck! amuck! amuck! amuck!” your six year old daughter gleefully yelled as she jumped about your living room, scotty running around her legs. her long, gingery hair flowed down to her back as the skirt of her dress swished about. this halloween had been the first year eloise had watched the classic film “hocus pocus,” and your darling little girl fell immediately in love with the youngest sanderson sister, sarah. she thought sarah was beautiful, funny, and who she wanted to grow up to be.

she knew from the moment that movie finished that sarah sanderson was exactly who she wanted to be for halloween. so, you got her a red and purple dress very similar to the young witch’s, loosely curled the tips of her already long hair, and even let her put on red lipstick and mascara to complete the look. el was ecstatic and squealed incredibly loud when she saw her reflection of the final product in the mirror. her energy was high and you hoped a night of trick-or-treating would put her down easily that night.

“y/n, is ben almost ready?” you heard your husband call from the living room where he waited with eloise. you finished drawing the small lightning bolt on your eight year old son’s forehead and smiled at him as you admired him wholly.

“yep, we’ll be out in a minute!” you replied happily. eloise was going as sarah sanderson, and since she was a witch, ben insisted he go as harry potter so he could be a wizard. he was just starting to read the popular series, and you thought it was a wonderful idea to have your two kids go as magic characters. “look how nice you look, ben!” you complimented. ben adjusted the round black glasses on his face and gave a small smile.

“you think daddy will like it?” he asked nervously, always dying for his father’s approval. you nodded, smiling warmly.

“i think daddy will love it. let’s go show him,” you said. ben held your hand as the two of you walked back out into the living room from your bathroom, calvin watching eloise bounce about and run off some of her energy. scotty barked at ben when he walked in and quickly ran over to sniff him. calvin turned smiled at his son, eyeing his costume up and down through his glasses.

“well if it isn’t young mr. potter?” calvin said fondly. ben did a small little bounce at his father’s approval and eloise ran into your arms.

“mommy! is it time to go tricker treating now?” she asked as you hoisted her up into your arms. ben shook his head.

“el, it’s ‘trick-or-treating,’” he corrected. your daughter blinked.

“that’s what i said!” she replied simply as you giggled. calvin stood up from the couch and looked outside the window, the la sun casting an orange glow into your home.

“let’s get on our way, weir-fields,” he announced. you kissed el’s cheek and plopped her down as she grabbed her little plastic witch’s cauldron to collect her candy in. she bounced about and ben took calvin’s hand before being led out the door. you coaxed your hyperactive six year old out the door and took a deep breath as calvin locked the door behind you. you locked eyes with him and smiled.

“our kids are the cutest,” you whispered sweetly. your husband gave a small smile, glancing around at all the halloween decorations gracing the neighboring homes.

“i think you’re right,” he winked back. you took his free hand and smiled, setting off into the evening as eloise bounced and jumped about ahead of you.

#calvin weir fields #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields x you #calvin weir fields x y/n #ruby sparks #ruby sparks fanfiction #eloise alcott weir fields #benjamin thoreau weir fields #paul dano x reader #paul dano fanfiction #paul dano fanfic #paul dano

[danoberry]

★ sugar baby (burt fabelman x reader) SMUT 18+

description: you notice an attractive older man taking a seat close to you on a park bench. you didn’t know he would end up spending so much to make you happy when you finally talked to him.

content: 18+ SMUT!!!, age gap (reader is of age obviously), burt is a sugar daddy, burt is also very much a dad, takes place after the movie “the fabelmans,” lots of use of “bunny” and pet names, cunnilingus, overstim, fingering, cum play if you squint

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 3.5k

afab genitalia

A/N :

i wanted to post something on christmas for everyone but sadly i just did not have the motivation. so i present this instead (thank you to everyone in the discord server who encouraged this fic- it’s one of my favs now). happy new year’s eve!

Burt Fabelman takes a seat not a terribly great distance from you. He reads a book- a manual of some sort- while his fingers tip-tap on his thigh. You watch the man with intent. He must be approaching his 40s, you think. The minute stubble growing on his chin and pudginess on his stomach are pure indicators. There’s something about him that’s attracting you. The way he’s carrying himself, the way he’s handling everything he has in his clutch with care. Your cheeks started to heat up just looking at the man. You would’ve never expected him to be a sugar daddy.

I’m probably half his age! Who am I kidding? You think to yourself, taking your eyes off of him and looking down at the concrete. A homewrecker is never something you’d want to be labeled. You drown in thought as your eyes stare a hole into the ground, until a voice startles you, almost out of your seat.

“Hon?” 

You look up, and there he is. The man you were just fixated on, right in front of you. Your face flushes a deep red. You can feel the heat in your neck. 

“Oh- hi!” You say with innocence, like you weren’t just staring at him like he was eye candy.

“I uh… saw you staring a second ago. Are you alright?”

You smile, incredibly nervous. “Yeah! Hah… I’ve always had a staring problem.” You watch him slightly cock his eyebrow. 

“I mean- I didn’t mean to stare so much… I’m sorry.” You blush deeper, heating up.

“Oh honey, it’s alright! I was just making sure you were doing okay! You seemed a bit… disheveled.” He sits down right next to you, as you curse yourself internally. Your legs slowly turn to jello.

“Nope! I’m doing pretty good…” 

“I’m glad to hear that… I have a few kids who I can usually tell when they’re not alright. Of course they’re with their mom for the season… I guess I was trying to find someone to take care of when they’re away!” He laughs. 

You sit there with your legs crossed and your hands in your lap. Not necessarily uncomfortable from the man himself, but from the fact he was making you feel so damn flustered. You giggle at his remark, before he speaks again.

“I’m sure you have children of yourself, what’s a girl like yourself doing at a park with nobody?” 

You actually laugh this time. 

“Kids? Absolutely not, not yet.” 

“Really? I mean- you definitely don’t look old, definitely not as old as me, but you seem mature!” He says with genuine surprise.

“Oh, sir, I don’t even have a boyfriend- let alone a child.”

“Wow!” He breathes out. “It’s Burt, by the way, Burt Fabelman. No need to call me sir, you’d make me feel too old.” 

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant by it all!” You defend, scared that you blew it. But he’s quick to reassure you simply.

“It’s okay hon, I know.” 

You sit there for a moment, twiddling your thumbs, and look back up at him. Burt’s staring down at you. When his eyes meet yours, he smiles. It’s warm, sweet. It gives you a tingly feeling in your core.

“Are you really alright?” He asks again, concerned. “Your face is very red…”

He lays the back of his palm on your forehead and you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“No, I’m fine, really!”

He chuckles at your response and feels your cheek with the back of his hand, still very concerned with your state. 

“I have four kids, I know when they’re lying, too, honey.”

You hesitate. Should I lie? You debate. You revel in the consequences before you finally decide that you would come clean. You have nothing to lose, you don't even know the man, hardly. 

“Do you want the truth?” You ask, fiddling with your dress. 

“If it’s not gonna scare me off,” he says as he laughs.

“Well,” you start, ”this is embarrassing, but I saw you sitting on that bench, and I thought you were attractive and I guess I couldn’t stop staring- and I know that sounds really weird but It wasn’t like I was going to just get up and walk on over to say ‘Hello!’ because God only knows-”

“Woah! Hey!”

You bury your face as deep as they could possibly go into your hands out of embarrassment. God, you think, I sound like a fucking baby!

“I’m not mad at you!” He laughs. Oh. “Quite frankly, I think you’re beautiful... actually, way out of my league! Why would such a young, pretty girl want anything to do with an old man like me?”

Oh…?

“I… you just look like you know how to take care of someone… and I think you’re quite handsome,” You reply shyly, not daring to look up at him. 

“Well aren’t you just so sweet,” Burt replies affectionately, coddling you. “Look up at me, please.”

You look up into his eyes, afraid yet unable to look away. 

“How about this… I can take you back to your car, and I’ll give you my phone number so we can talk about it this evening. Does that sound good to you?”

You nod your head and walk with him to your car. If he were any other older man walking you to your car, you would have been exceedingly uncomfortable, but Burt Fabelman had a comforting presence as he loomed over you.

Approaching your car, your lips curl into a smile when you sit in the front seat. 

“Do you have a napkin?” He asks.

You reply with a simple “mhm” and hand him a napkin after digging through your purse.

He grabs a pen from his coat pocket and clicks it, writing his phone number on the napkin laying against his hand. You watch him finish his writing and hand the napkin back to you, leaning over the car. You stare at the writing, before looking back at him as he stands over you. 

“Promise me you’ll call?” He asks with a smile.

“I’m looking forward to it, Burt.”

…

Over the next few days you and Burt constantly talk over the phone. You even leave a chair under the phone on the wall for when either of you decide to call. You learn much about him over the days following— and vice versa. 

Those late night phone calls turn into less of casual discussions of the past, and more playful conversations of the present. You slowly realize how much of a flirt Burt can become when he’s comfortable. He proposes the idea of a date while you fiddle with the cord one late night, saying, “I can’t wait to see you again, bunny. Let me take you somewhere— the shops. I’ll get you whatever you want.” 

Burt was more than delighted to hear you’d be willing to go on a date with him. He hadn’t gone on a real date in years, and he was glad he’d be able to go on one with you. It was kind of strange for a first date, you thought, to go to the shops instead of the traditional dinner at a fancy restaurant, but you wouldn’t dare complain about getting spoiled by a charming, handsome older man.

You decide on a pretty dress and flats, adorning yourself with silver jewelry and floral perfume. Lipstick paints your lips and mascara enhances your eyelashes with every flutter. You carry your purse under your arm as you walk to the entrance, looking around for any sign of Burt. Almost immediately, he catches your eye. He stands tall next to the fountain, his glasses seated on his nose quite low, in a turtleneck and a blazer, an outfit that made you heat up admiring him.

Your face flushes as you stare up at him. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” he breathes quietly, pushing your hair behind your ear. 

“Hi- thanks for inviting me here,” you say as you smile at him. 

“Of course. Where did you want to go first?”

“Uhh- well, I have been wanting to hear the new ‘Temptations’ record.“ 

Burt chuckles, “Oh honey, I’d be more than glad to get you a record, but what do you really want?” 

You tap your foot out of nervousness, you didn’t really think he was being serious when he told you he’d buy you whatever you wanted on that phone call a few nights prior. “If I was being honest I’d really appreciate some new earrings, but you don’t-“ 

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll look at! Is that okay? I can get your record, too.” 

You feel slightly aghast by his offer, but you’re quick to comply. “I mean, it sounds good to me!” 

“Great,” He says, holding his hand out for you to grasp.

You take his hand and walk with him down the atrium, to the jewelry store. When you arrive, you both are greeted by a salesperson who helps you pick out a beautiful pair of earrings: pretty diamond studs. Despite your protests to Burt, because of how expensive they turn out to be, he buys them for you. 

“You really don’t have to spend this much money on me- I appreciate it so much, Burt, but really-“ 

“A beautiful lady like you needs a beautiful pair of earrings. Don’t mention it, doll. I insist.” 

He walks with you out of the store, holding the bag for you. 

“You should put your earrings in, I want to see them!” 

“Oh,” you started, “sure, why not!”

He holds the bag up to you to take the earrings out and put them in your ears. After you do this, you place the box back into the bag, thanking him again.

“They’re gorgeous,” Burt says, astonished. 

“Thank you,” you say, grinning wide.

He kisses you on the cheek and looms over you again. 

“Not as gorgeous as you though, for sure.” 

“Thank you,” is all you can dreamily mutter again, blushing at the floor. 

You hold Burt’s hand on the walk to the record store, blushing the way there. You arrive and quickly find what you’re looking for. You head to the register alone, but Burt insists you pick out a few more, and one for him to listen to. You pick up The Beatles, Beach Boys, and a few more with interesting covers. At the checkout, he forks out money from his wallet like it was nothing, rubbing your shoulder with his left hand. 

You two walk out of the store hand in hand, and mutually decide it’s time to go home, though neither of you want to truly leave each other's company. When you both reach the front gate, he asks if you want to sit in his car and talk for a moment. You immediately oblige and walk with him, taking a seat in the front passenger. 

“I don’t want to leave right now- I feel like I could spend hours with you,” you say with ruby-red cheeks, looking down at your feet. 

“I don’t want to leave you either, bunny. Look at me.” 

He gently tilts your head up at him, using the back of his palm against your chin. 

“Do you want to come home with me tonight? I’ll make sure we come back and get your car in the morning.” 

You look in Burt’s eyes for a moment and nod your head. He leans into you and plants a kiss on your lips, letting it linger for a moment, and pulls away.

“Throw the stuff in the back. I’ll take you, baby.” 

Your eyes frost over with tears formed from pure excitement, and a haze prohibits your view while you grin secretly, looking out the window.

You put your bags in the back and he drives off with you almost giggling in the passenger seat. You admire him at stoplights, his stature, mixed with the glow of the red, yellow, green on his face. You couldn’t believe it. He’s taking you back to his house. Who knows what you’re about to do.

He pulls into his dark driveway and turns off the engine, stepping out, as you do the same. He shows  you to the front door, and you both walk into the beautiful living room together, surrounded by windows. He turns on the light behind you and hangs his blazer on the rack.

“Wanna sit?” He asks as you walk in, motioning over to the couch. 

“Oh, yeah sure.” 

“Make yourself comfortable, hon.” 

You watched him grab two glasses of water from the kitchen and walk over to you, sitting them down on the coffee table and sitting down himself. 

“You really are such a beautiful lady, you know?” 

“Thank you, Burt,” you flustered. “You’re very handsome as well.” 

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet someone as pretty and sweet as you are, dear. You make me feel wonderful.”  

“I feel wonderful when I’m with you, too.” 

A grin formed on Burt’s face and he leaned to kiss you, to which you completely oblige as you deepen the kiss, humming into his mouth. Burt lays one of his large hands on your thigh, playing with his thumb, rubbing under the hem of your dress. His calloused fingertips toyed with the fabric. 

“Do you like it when I touch you there?” 

You nodded your head. 

“Okay, baby.” 

You feel your pussy slowly start to ache as he rubs  your inner thigh, kissing you hungrily. You feel completely swallowed by your attraction to him, as you spread your thighs apart and invite his hand farther up your dress. 

“Please, Burt,” you whisper. 

“I’ll take care of you, bunny.” 

He picks you up bridal style and kisses you again, walking you back to his room. You're placed on the bed and Burt lifts up the bottom of your dress, exposing your lace panties and the lower half of your stomach. 

“You wear these often?” He asks, gently squeezing the meat of your thigh. 

“Not necessarily…” you shyly remark. 

“They’re cute, sweetheart. Red’s your color.” 

He dips down and kisses you again. “Can I get this dress off of you?

You squeak, absolutely overtaken by affection, “Mhm.”

You sit up and Burt helps you take the dress off above your head. You feel exposed— lying there in your lace, while he hovers over you fully clothed. The feeling doesn’t last long, however, because before you know it, Burt is taking off his turtleneck and you see his pudgy belly sitting at the top of his pants. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, bunny. You want me to fuck you, hm?” 

“Yes, daddy,”  you whisper boldly.

“I haven’t heard that one before,” Burt chuckles. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. Come here.” 

You sit up and get closer to him, batting your eyes. He cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing it with his thumb. You kiss and nuzzle into the side of his hand, looking up at Burt with a neediness in your eyes.

“Such a pretty baby,” he says, in awe. “Lay back.” 

You obey his demand and lay on your back, your breasts almost spilling out of your bra. Burt leans over you and puts his hands behind your back, unsnapping your bra and taking it off. He cups one of your tits and pinches your nipple, requiting a squeak out of your mouth. Burt laughs and kisses your forehead, apologizing for shocking you like that, before he trails his fingers down your body, making you shiver in reaction. 

Burt grabs your sides and shifts you forward, beginning to peel off the sides of your lace panties. The slick, already formed on your panties, strung out for a moment while you watch him slowly peel them off, from your thighs to off of your ankles.

“So wet,” you hear him purr. 

He takes his thumb and lays it over your sensitive clit, making you hum a moan. He leans over the bed and brings his face to your heat, pulsing with need. You feel his hot breath against your folds, before he brings his lips to you, collecting your slick with his tongue, lapping up and down as you begin to cry out moans and curses. 

You feel him fuck you with his tongue and suck at your clit, making your back arch away from the matress. You hold his head down with your hand, screaming out against your other one. Your thighs begin to squeeze together as you cry out his name, almost squeezing his head along with them. You feel Burt take his rough hands and use both of them to hold your legs down on each side, squeezing into the plush of your thighs. The resistance turns you on more than you already are.

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and uses them to spread around your pussy, lathering his fingers with fluid, pushing one into you while he sucks you all that he could. He begins slowly, but gets decently faster as he curls into you perfectly. You feel the knot in your stomach forming as he gets faster with his movements. You moan his name more and more, giving him validation that he’s doing a good job.

Your walls tighten around his fingers, making it harder for Burt to curl in and out of you. You feel your impending orgasm build and build as you try to relax your muscles and prolong your pleasure. 

“C’mon, I know you can do it bunny. Cum all over my fingers,” Burt praises. 

“Burt I- ohh- I- fuck!”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a huge wave, your muscles contract while you pant and repeat his name like a prayer. You notice your orgasm slowly calming, but your arousal sticking, and you realize he never stopped finger-fucking you in the first place. 

“O-Oh, baby! Ah-hnng… Burt!” 

He kisses up your stomach with wet lips. 

“I told you I was gonna fuck you good, bunny.” He raises his eyebrows and pulls his fingers out of you, smearing the cum all over the front of your cunt, all spent and red and wet, and wiping the rest on your tits, hardening your nipples from cold air. 

Burt picks you up by the hips again and adjusts you towards the headboard, shuffling off his pants and underwear. He towers over you, his cock leaking from his bright pink tip, thick enough to stretch you out but not long enough to hurt your cervix. 

“You ready for my cock, hon? Gonna let daddy stretch you out?” 

“Mmm, ‘m so ready, ‘m so ready, daddy,” you say, though absolutely spent. 

Burt spends no time hesitating to lather his cock with your juices, feeling your folds with his thickness and slowly putting himself inside you. You mewl as he leans over your body, his lower half deliciously touching your clit. You feel overstimulated but absolutely desperate for his body to be close to yours.

He fucks into you while wet noises fill the room, combining with your moans of ecstasy and his groans and grunts of pleasure. Your legs wrap around his back and he uses his hands to cup behind your head, bringing your bodies closer together. Your foreheads touch together, and Burt looks into your eyes, overwhelmed by your beauty and how good you make him feel. 

“Mm- Burt, baby, hnng- Daddy… please,” you cry out, salivating, pinching your eyes shut as he rutted into you and tears fell down your face, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of your bodies.

“Take it… all for me… bunny.” 

Burt gives you a kiss, mid moan, and by the time the kiss was over, your second orgasm happened almost immediately, crashing over you harder than your previous one. You let out a scream of pleasure while he fucked into you a few more times, finally cumming as well, painting your walls with warm, thick stripes of cum, that made your cunt clench even harder from the feeling. 

Burt kisses you again, slowly removing his cock from your dripping pussy, spewing it out with a pulse. Cum pools below your thighs, making the sheet sticky from under you. You both know it— it’s gross, but neither of you want to leave each other’s company. He lays down beside you, while your eyes flutter. You look cock-drunk from your drool and tears.

“You’re so good baby,” he kisses you. “You’re so good for me.” 

Burt puts the hair out of your face before you reply. 

“Thank you so much, Burt ,” you say with a yawn and a smile. 

“Of course, my pretty girl.”

#paul dano #burt fabelman #edward nashton x reader #calvin weir fields x reader #edward nashton fic #edward nashton smut #edward nashton x you #calvin weir fields #edward nashton #burt fableman x reader #burt fabelman smut #paul dano x you #paul dano x reader #danonation #danocel #batman 2022 #dano riddler #paul dano riddler #paul dano nation #paul dano fanfic #kisses4calvin #danoberry

[cannedbeefaroni]

thoughts on college professor calvin weir fields x student DESPERATE to get an A?

Ok I know exactly what kind of professor Calvin would be.

As a professor, his ego would be massive but fragile. he'd feel washed up and underappreciated, having to teach so many students who don't know of nor like him as an author. the fragile ego of an older male artist turned teacher is a sight to beheld.

taking one of his classes would be one of the most frustrating tasks. when he first entered the profession, he was slightly more laid back, but throughout the years, he'd become progressively bitter. he's excessively critical over grammatical errors, and be quick to call anyone and everyone's writing lazy. instructions he'd give for assignments would be worded so unclear that each student would come up with completely unrelated results to one another. he's the kind of professor who'd make you cry, not because of how difficult his course is, but because of how unapologetically cold he is. of course, worst of all, his own books would be required material for the class.

if you were DESPERATE for an A, well i'm very sorry, but even if you sucked his cock, i don't think he'd give it to you. would he fuck a student? yeah. he def would. his morals are down the shitter and he's already a shitty professor. pussywhipping prof. weir-fields into giving you an A would be a SEMESTER LONG task. yes, he's easy, and he'd give it up in an instant, but you gotta really earn that A.

#I FUCKING HATE YOU CALVIN WEIR-FIELDS #<3 #danonation #danocel #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields smut

[danosrosegarden]

first time w burt or calvin? 👀 <3 ur work queen

Always, Forever - Calvin Weir-Fields x Fem!Reader Headcannons (NSFW)

Contains: protected sex...for once!

Note: can you imagine picking Calvin over Burt? Kind of embarrassing for me...hehehe.

♡ Calvin's got a heart that overflows with hopeless romance with each blood-pumping beat. He would never do to you what he did to Ruby; he decided it as soon as he laid eyes on your beaming grin. You were walking your dog along the beach while he was reading in the sand. Goodness gracious, you were gorgeous. The flow of your hair, the sparkle of your eyes, the musicality of your laughter as your dog tugged on the leash. He was entranced.

♡ He gave it his all to build a healthy relationship with you: stolen coffee kisses in the heat of shimmering summer afternoons and clammy hands laced together as you both read on his couch until the broiling sun dipped below the horizon. With you, he didn't feel the need to pretend. He didn't feel the need to control you like a puppet on a string. You were you. That was perfect for him.

♡ There was one thing that bothered him, though...every time he slipped his hands down into your lap while kissing you softly, you pulled away. Each time his fingers laced themselves around the curve of your hips, you suddenly were tired and wanted to sleep. Was he doing something wrong? Calvin's stomach sloshed with warm worry. Why didn't you want him?

♡ Truth be told, you did want him. Badly. More than anything. But first times are always a bit frightening, aren't they? Calvin's willing to wait until you're ready.

♡ When you are ready, though...oh, boy!

♡ Calvin is a dom, for sure. He's not willing to let the control slip out from his desperate grasp...at least not yet.

♡ But fear not! He's the most gentle dom you ever did see. He asks if you're okay before every touch, tucking your hair behind your ear and giving you soft, sweet kisses with each thrust. He treats you as if you might unfurl if he squeezes too hard.

♡ Don't let his soft, gentle aura fool you...he knows how to please you. Call me crazy for this, but I do, in fact, think Calvin knows where the clit is.

♡ I can imagine Calvin to be the type that wants to make love instead of just fucking. He wants it to really mean something. And that makes it feel so much warmer, so much more magical.

♡ It's some simple, sweet, protected missionary in bed for your first time. He doesn't want to overwhelm you. You can explore more later.

♡ It doesn't matter how weak and uncoordinated his thrusts become...he wants to feel you cum. He powers through his own overstimulation and rubs your clit gently, his body begging to feel you release.

♡ He's holding your hips with tender hands as he slowly pulls out. I personally can see him being a big cuddler after sex. Anything to connect your bodies together.

♡ The first time with Calvin is the type of sex that makes you want to cry afterwards. You feel your bones glowing with love. Your blood glitters with flowing devotion. You fall into slumber in the heated bloom of the quiet bedroom, your head resting against his chest. You drift off towards sleep, feeling his heartbeat pound behind his skin, and above all else...knowing you are loved. Knowing you will be loved.

#Eli's writing #Danonation #Paul Dano #Calvin Weir-Fields #Ruby Sparks #Calvin Weir-Fields x reader #Calvin Weir-Fields x you #Calvin Weir-Fields x Y/N

[sagexsenorita]

could i have a klitz x reader with prompt #14 (“ithink i’m falling in love with you.”)? or eli sunday with “we’re going to be a family”? thanks 💕

Our Children

Eli Sunday x Reader

This is a imagine based off the character Eli Sunday in There Will Be Blood.

This imagine is dedicated to the girl who stole 40$ out of my purse. Fuck you and your busted lip <3

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, Christianity

My Masterlist

Eli I think I have something to tell you?

You think?

I do.

Eli walked down the middle of the church, his head cocked to the side in curiosity. His small calculated steps towards you made you nervous but safe all at the same time. He wasn’t panicking like you were, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

He had always been your protector, ever since you were both little he scared away the monsters, the mean boys, even the devils inside you that came when Eli looked too handsome. He was everything you could’ve ever asked for, when he asked for your hand you couldn’t believe it. And now the next chapter of your life was starting.

Okay tell me then, what is troubling you dove?

When Eli first mentioned having children it was surprising really, so nonchalant and simple. But you could tell he had put plenty of thought into it. 

You were both standing under the palo verde tree. It had been planted by the town long ago before either of you were born. Eli had always dreamed of building his church right next to it, and now his dream had come true. But at this point he could care less about the tree. Out of all of God’s creations there was nothing he admired more than you. As you both watched the town children play in front of the church Eli felt a sense of calm within him. He felt deep inside him that one day he would get this, his new dream. 

They’re going to be so beautiful 

Who?

Our children

His words stunned you. Your grip on his arm that was resting at his side was just a little bit tighter. It's not as if you had been avoiding getting pregnant, both you and Eli believed that having a child was nothing short of a miracle, he’d just never been so forward with his words.

From then on things were different, every time you went into town the two of you came back with a new toy, rocking chair, etc. The both of you were more than ready for your family to grow.

And now you were standing in front of him, with news that you knew would shock him much more than it shocked you. 

Eli I haven’t had my cycle in months, I went to the doctor, he said everything is fine, there’s nothing to worry about and that… I’m pregnant.

The wind blew through the open doors of the church, the warm breeze didn't help the perspiration gathering on your forehead. Your heartbeat was growing faster by the minute.

He didn’t say much, his silence scared you at first. You tried to remember all the times Eli had lay next to you, whispering into your ear about your future. So many years the two of you had spent planning your life. Together or separate the both of you had spent a long time thinking of your family that had yet to come. You both had already picked out middle names for all 10 children (in Eli’s fantasy). Turns out his silence wasn’t critical, Eli was just entirely speechless

Eli?

Pregnant? With a child?

Yes, I’m pregnant with a child.

Our child?

You almost wanted to roll your eyes at his genuine cluelessness. He was just spouting questions at this point, his excitement was getting the best of him, his ears were red and his hands were almost shaking as he held yours.

He was suddenly quiet again as you tried to meet his eyes, he looked scared, excited, and out of breath all at the same time. You remembered him looking like this when he was younger, he had just found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. Its wings were flapping confidently and it gave out loud cries that let him know it was still okay. Eli told you that was the first time he cried happy tears, that was also the first time you realized you would always love him. 

Eli gently placed his hands on your belly, a small bump had formed already, he had barely noticed before but now he couldn't keep his eyes off it. He finally met your gaze, tears pooled in his waterline and his face was exercising every muscle to stop from crying. 

We’re going to be a family

And you’re going to be an amazing father 

Eli could feel his heart filling up his entire body, the warmth of your love spread across his chest as he pulled you and your child into his arms. Nothing was ever going to make him feel better than this.

Hope u enjoyed!

Comment Your Thoughts!

#eli sunday x reader #paul dano #dwayne hoover #jay okja #calvin weir fields #dano nation #paul dano x reader #paul dano fluff #ruby sparks #paul dano smut #brian fast food nation #eli sunday #there will be blood #twbb #daniel day lewis #little miss sunshine #daniel plainview #paul dano x you #paul dano fanfic #paul dano fanart #edward nashton #danocel #paul dano riddler #danonation #paul dano imagine #paul dano brain rot #paul dano edit

[lovelybunn]

baking a cake with calvin weir-fields ✧ ˚

warning(s): uses of pet names, kind of suggestive flirting(?), swearing

author's note: idk why, but i just think calvin doesn't really show love through his words very often (which is kind of ironic bc he's literally an author), just my personal headcanon :)

ㅤ

ㅤ

"Hey, watch it! You're gonna get frosting all over my apron!" You shrugged, the spoon covered in sweet, fluffy frosting spun around in your wrist. You turned to give Calvin an unbothered glance. "Isn't that what it's for? To get dirty?" You strutted toward him and booped his big ol' ethnical nose. You were always fond of it, especially what it looked like on his side profile.

ㅤ

If you were being honest, everything, all of him, you were fond of. You loved it, you loved him. From his light brunet hair to his gorgeous sky blue eyes, every inch of him was perfect. And Calvin's hands, oh lord, his hands! They were so skillful, they could do anything he put them out to. They had a large range of uses, from cooking full course meals for the two of you, typing up an over 500 page novel, to the basic task of being able to touch and feel you in all the right places. He was your dream guy, and it was like a gift from the gods to have him.

ㅤ

Moreover, today was special. It was you and Calvin's anniversary. Of course, because you were dying for something sweet (other than your boyfriend), you suggested to bake a cake together. Nevertheless, he agreed. "That's a great idea, honey! It'll be a perfect way for us to bond, even more than we already do, that is." Calvin had wholeheartedly exclaimed.

ㅤ

Little did either one of you know, the bonding that the two of you oh-so ever desired for, was sadly going to be messy. Very messy.

ㅤ

If someone ever walked into you and Calvin's kitchen, completely unannounced, they may have assumed that a sugar hurricane ran into it on some sort of frenzy. Flour coated the once sparkly clean counters with pale white, with a few specs of cake batter splattered in-between. The dishwasher was flooded in bowls, measuring cups, and other baking utensils, to the point where the thing wouldn't even close all the way.

ㅤ

Taking into no consideration of the disaster before you, you clung onto Calvin and went on your tip-toes. "I love you." You hummed in his ear. He shook his head in response, "Mhm.." With you still glued onto him like some kind of tumor, Calvin drug you across the kitchen with two cake pans balanced in either of his hands. He put the raw cake batter filled pans into the oven and closed it, huffing to himself.

ㅤ

You sighed dreamily and slithered your arms around his shoulders, "Baby, Calvin! Aren't you gonna say it back?" You fake pouted, your eyes played a pitiful part in your act. He ran his long fingers through his hair before peering down at you. Calvin's eyes half-lidded, he leaned toward you. He stopped right in front of your face. Your eyes practically popped out of your head out of embarrassment. He chuckled, "You have some of that frosting on your face, sweetheart." You almost removed one of your hands from their place of resting on Calvin, but he gently put it back where it was.

ㅤ

With a teasing smirk on his face, Calvin waved his pointer finger back and forth as if he was scolding a small child. "No, no, no. Let me." Without warning, he kissed your cheek where the frosting was, but it felt kinda wet. "Calvin, did you just lick my face?" He nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah." He turned on his heels to go and wash his hands. You batted your eyelashes, baffled. "Hello? Licking my face doesn't instantly translate to 'I love you, too', you know that right?" Calvin finished washing his hands and walked up to you casually. He then wrapped them around your waist and pulled you closer to him. Calvin muttered against your ear, "Yeah, I love you, my sweet shortcake. I can't help but to taste you. You're addictive, like sugar." You froze in shock, exchanging a glance from everywhere else and Calvin's smug face. Thankfully, the oven saved you of the rest of your dignity, distracting him.

ㅤ

"Shit, how did I completely forget to preheat the damn oven? How is it gonna bake jack shit if it isn't hot?" Calvin groaned; he didn't take the cakes out, but he actually set up the temperature to 360. He ruffled his hair into a brown fluffy bush. You smiled, 'He's so cute.' Even with Calvin's back turned, he knew that you were eyeing him. "Honey, quit gawking and help me clean up, m'k?"

ㅤ

About thirty-five minutes passed, and you and Calvin were stuffing your faces with yummy homeade cake, nothing too sweet or bitter, just right. Calvin took a tiny sip of water and glanced at you. "This is delicious, shortcake. I'm so happy to have such a sweet tooth as a lover." You gulped down a chunk of cake down your throat before replying, "Best. Anniversary. Ever." Calvin was about to agree with you until his glasses fell straight off his face and into his slice.

ㅤ

"Shit!" He hissed, desperately trying to clean the frosting that had now covered the lenses. It was no use, the glasses were permanently fogged up. Calvin sighed heavily, "Well, that's one way to end your evening. And those were my signature glasses too." You giggled and scooted closer to him. You rested your head on his shoulder. "I'll buy you new ones, I promise." He tilted his head and glanced at you; Calvin's pupils dilated emmensly. He looked even prettier without his glasses, even though he was half-blind. You didn't realize it at first, but Calvin had wrapped his arms around you in a gentle hug. You grinned. He may not say it a lot, but he loves you, more than you think.

#paul dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano x you #danonation #calvin weir fields #calvin weir fields x reader #fluff #drabble #drabbles

[taco-bell-chipotle-sauce]

random Brian (Fast Food Nation) headcanons

by random i do mean just anything that pops into my head, you have been warned

he eats condiments with a spoon

like he’ll ask you to pass him the ranch or whatever and then he’ll just whip out a plastic spoon and pour it on the spoon and shove it in his mouth

his favorite condiment is taco bell’s chipotle sauce

contrary to popular belief, he’s not actually a bad influence

not to say that he’s super responsible or anything, just that he never pressures anyone into making poor decisions with him

owns multiple pairs of platform shoes but has been wearing the same pair almost every day since he was 16

also yes he does listen to Nine Inch Nails and other similar artists i agree

he’s not a super avid comic reader but he does enjoy the occasional DC run

his hair smells like fast food all the time because he just does not wash it very often

it’s also very greasy because of that

you cannot tell me he cares about personal hygiene, i’m sorry

#brian paul dano #danonation #fast food nation #fast food nation brian #paul dano #brain fast food nation #headcanon #paul dano nation #paul dano x you #little miss sunshine #the riddler 2022 #dwayne hoover #calvin weir fields #paul dano x reader

[riddlerxl]

Decided to start doing Match-Ups!!! So send in some info and I’ll try my best to match you up with a Dano character! I’ll even make you a lil playlist for you and your character’s relationship.

18+ only please

#paul dano #edward nashton #calvin weir fields #tim klitz #Klitz #jay okja #eli sunday #burt fabelman #paul dano x reader #idk why I’m forgetting characters #but you get it

[always-andromeda]

strawberry crème for Calvin pls? :) your layout for the event is so pretty! ❤️

– 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐫-𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you so very much, anon!! and aGH thank you for feeding my love for Calvin!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lmao Calvin is an out of touch little weirdo, 100% fluff, nothing else I can think of!

If Calvin could write his first kiss with you, he'd know exactly how to set the scene. It would be the perfect balance between planned and spontaneous. Something cinematic yet quaint.

And really, under those parameters he could go about a dozen different directions. He'd certainly dreamt about it many times.

In one, he took you to an expensive dinner and you both waited all night only for the chef to completely botch your entire order. Instead, you ate fast food burgers in Calvin's car all while softly talking and laughing over the eclectic LA crowd that you'd observed in the restaurant. When you took a sip of your strawberry milkshake, he asked, "Let me have a sip." Only for you to reply, "Why don't I do this instead?" Then grasped Calvin's tie and brought him to your lips. And even in his dreams, he could taste the cool, creamy strawberry on your tongue.

Another one saw him walking with you in a park with Scotty. And of course Scotty couldn't help but drag him along on his leash before trampling in mud. The dog then proudly hopped up to paw at Calvin's legs, tracking the sludge all over his khaki pants and leaving Calvin very frustrated. To which you merely giggled and said, "He's just showing you he loves you, Cal. Here, let me give it a try too." Within seconds, he stopped caring about the inevitable stains that would never wash out of his pants because your mouth was press firmly against his.

Then there was the one that intrigued him most. He was still trying his best to write that one up in a way that did the dream justice. In it, you and him were at his mother's house, up in that treehouse that he often hid away in when his mother and Mort were becoming too much. But he would always be willing to share that treehouse with you. All he could remember was the light of golden hour falling over both of your figures as he took hold of your chin and slowly brought you closer. Your lips barely ghosted over his own before he closed his eyes and sank into the languid kiss. That one was his favorite. He would live in that treehouse with you for the rest of his life if he could. It would just be you and him in a world alone.

Calvin had been writing all day. The more you heard the faint tapping on the keys of his laptop, the more your frustration increased. He had this terrible habit of getting so lost in an idea that it would suck up an entire afternoon if he wasn't careful.

"Cal?" You called from his living room couch downstairs. "Are we going to watch our movie?" No answer. Aaaand he's still typing. You sigh and get up, making your way upstairs.

You found him lost in...something. His eyes were completely glazed over as he typed like a madman. "Calvin?" you tried hopefully.

"Hm?"

"Are you coming down sometime soon? It's been about an hour since you said you'd be finished up here."

"Uh-huh, yeah," he replied distantly.

You folded your arms over your chest, walked around the front side of his desk, and stood beside him. Still, Calvin wouldn't stop typing; hell, he didn't even seem to notice that you were now reading what he was typing from over his shoulder.

And as soon as you saw your name scattered among the paragraphs on his screen, you wanted to tear your hair out. "You're seriously writing about kissing me when I have literally been downstairs for the past hour waiting for you to do it?"

Calvin jumped in his seat and looked at you with wide eyes. Immediately, his mouth began to hang open, speechless and completely unable to form a comprehensive sentence.

"Fine, if I have to do everything myself, might as well add this one to the list," you grumbled. You leaned down and pressed an indignant peck to his lips. Getting ready to turn and leave him, you started to say, "There, now you won't have to stress about planning our your first ki–"

But within seconds, Calvin was on his feet, taking your wrists in his hands and spinning you back towards him before spattering an assortment of little kisses all along the planes of your mouth, cheeks, and jaw. Soon, that lingering frustration was replaced with butterflies tickling at your insides as he continued his onslaught of quick kisses.

"Sorry, I just didn't know–" he mumbled breathlessly against your skin. "Didn't know how to do it just yet..."

You giggled, "Well, you sure are doing it now!"

"Yeah," Calvin finally pulled back, hand going to hold your chin and his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "And I don't think I ever want to stop," he resolved.

#chocolate box valentine event❣️ #danonation #paul dano #danocel #ruby sparks #calvin weir fields #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields x you #calvin weir fields x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

[nowyouknowdano]

Sooo I'm posting a link to a Dark Eli Sunday fic I wrote where he manipulates a naive churchgoer🙊.

Idk why I made it dark but Eli kinda gives me creep vibes so read at your own risk! There is a TW: a forced sex act and religious manipulation, *PLEASE HONOR WHERE YOU ARE TODAY* and if this story isn’t for you that’s okay! (I have others without such harsh themes if u wanna check out my stuff).

As always sending love and big wet Dano kisses! ❤️

#eli sunday #eli sunday x reader #eli sunday x you #there will be blood #paul dano #the riddler #Eli Sunday fic #little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover #escape at dannemora #jay okja #okja #paul dano fanfic #the batman 2022 #paul dano x reader #calvin weir fields #klitz the girl next door #ruby sparks #the riddler x reader #inmate sweat #the riddler fanfiction #dark fanfiction

[imagine--if]

Hihi!! ♡ I recently started reading Dano fics and I stumbled upon your blog, I love your work and pairings!

I was wondering if I could get a Dano character match! Hope you have a great day! ♡

♡ I'm a 24 year old femme presenting nonbinary person! I'm 5'5" with brown eyes, curly hair brunette with a bob cut! I'm very shy and anxious around strangers but with given time I will open up and be my cheerful and bubbly self! I love wearing pink dresses and outfits! I love the color pink and bunnies! I'm a graphic designer professionally and work with art most of the time! During my free time I enjoy taking naps, listening to music and playing with my dog!! My little pleasures in life is going to the fruit market and studying biology! ♡

I match you with...

Calvin Weir-Fields!

Calvin isn't necessarily shy, but he isn't very social and overly friendly towards people he isn't familiar with, so you two go great together being introverts 😌

He loves your pink aesthetic because he thinks it's cute and kind of hot, so usually comes home after being out with random trinkets and pink things he knows you'll like 🎀💗

He'll definitely join art classes to connect with you that way too and make sure you aren't spending more time with other people than you are with him... because he's still Calvin 😅

You've probably done a lot of the covers and character art for his books, which is just perfect for him 🥰 Your dog and his dog are officially best friends and that can either cause chaos or cuteness, or both 🐶

Anything you're interested in, Calvin will most likely invest in too, so he'll make himself listen to music you like and like it too, test you on biology stuff and get info about it so it's another thing you two can talk about and bond over 🧪🎵

If you go out, Calvin's gonna go out too, because he's a pretty obsessive guy 😂

He doesn't nap much during the day because he has to write and do stuff like that, be occasionally he'll get too distracted watching you sleep like an angel and give up and join you 🥺

#calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields #ruby sparks #paul dano x reader #danonation #paul dano movies #paul dano characters #paul dano imagine #paul dano headcannons #paul dano fanfic #paul dano fluff #paul dano fic #paul dano x you #paul dano #paul dano x y/n #paul dano nation #dano nation

[danoberry]

★ i’m so sick (joby taylor x reader) SMUT 18+

description: joby finds your vibrator and has you put on a show.

content: SMUT 18+!!!, hella overstim, slight masochism, dumbification, squirting, cum play, voyeurism, degradation, just overall filthy

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 2.5k

afab genitalia

AN:

woah two posts in like three days? i’m on a roll! wrote this one on a whim because i got a good idea, and stayed up all night working! enjoy!!!

You’re tired— so fucking tired as you lie on Joby’s bed. You’ve had a long day at work, and he knows this. It’s only 5pm, but as the blinds cast a shadow over your body, the lamp outside of the apartment illuminates your body in stripes of shadow and light. Joby stands over the sink, washing his face with hot water, groaning from the warmth of the water while he holds his hands to his face. He found something of yours before you got home. He’s stalling to tell you… it’s for your own good. 

Joby slyly walks out of the bathroom, but you can’t see him yet, with your face buried in a pillow that smells like body odor and cigarettes. He opens his drawer nonchalantly. 

“Baby?” He calls out. 

“Hm?” You groan.

“I found something of yours today.” 

“Oh you did? What was it?” Your voice is muffled. 

“Turn around and I’ll show you.” 

“But baby,” you whine, “I’m tired!” 

Suddenly, you hear a buzz humming from the other side of the room. Surely he isn’t shaving. You turn over and Joby stands there, mockingly in awe of what he has in his hands. He’s looking it up and down. He’s touching the top and watching his fingertip shake. He found your vibrator. 

Your eyes widen and you sit up. 

“Where’d you get that?” 

“Your nightstand.” 

You scoff nervously. “What were you doing in my nightstand?” 

“I was looking for some chapstick… but I found this pretty thing instead! When do you have time to use this?” He continues to run his fingertips against the top of the pink, vibrating toy. 

“Joby I— I use it when you’re away. Turn it off, it’s gonna go dead. Just put it up and forget about it.” 

“Forget about it?” He asks. “You want me to forget about it? You’re so desperate you can’t even wait for me to fuck you? You have to use this cheap shit?”

“Joby seriously it’s not that big of a deal—“ 

He throws the vibrating toy onto the bed next to you and it vibrates against your thigh. You pick it up to turn it off, but Joby doesn’t approve. 

“Uh-uh, babydoll,” he tuts. 

“What?” You scoff, impatience bubbling as he gets cockier. Joby pulls a chair from the table and flips it around, straddling it. He leans his forearms on the top of the back of the chair and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Well, if you want to be a whore and use a cheap piece of plastic to fuck yourself, you can go ahead and show me.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me—“ 

“Nope. I wanna see how you fuck yourself when I’m not here.” 

You hesitate with your mouth agape, he raises his eyebrows, smirking patronizingly. 

“Show me baby.” 

Your cunt begins to clench around nothing as he speaks to you in such a degrading way. You’re quite angry with him, sure, but fuck is he turning you on. You argue one last time for full effect, “Joby come on, this is so stupid!”

He stares at you like you’re ignorant, not muttering a word. You huff a whine and grab the vibrator, dragging it along your clothed thighs, trailing to your cunt that was already clenching around nothing. 

You leave it at its lowest setting, pressing it gently on your clothed clit. You mewl at the feeling and grab one of your tits from under your shirt, squeezing it. You pull the vibrator away from your clit and use your hands to take off your shirt, and then your bra, your pants, and soon, you’re sat with nothing on but a thong. You fail to see Joby’s reactions. He licks his lips and palms at his growing erection while he’s watching you strip for him across the room.

You grab the vibrator again and hum when you press it back to your clit, grinding yourself onto the toy and whining quietly. 

“Oh- fuck Joby,” you whisper. He watches silently, entertained and aroused by the way your body moves against your toy. The way your back arches when you press just a little too hard, the way you shake your core around the vibrator when it isn’t giving you enough. He’s fascinated. He’s fucked you plenty of times and he’s seen you like this, under him before, but something about watching you from afar— really studying you, it’s making him weak. 

You turn up the setting on the vibrator, whining more and more as slick falls down your weeping hole, getting on the mattress. You press harder on your clit and moan out, gasping. A knot forms in your stomach, and you press harder on your bud, letting your orgasm crash over you, and quickly setting the toy aside to catch your breath. 

Joby watches as you do this and wants to come over and put it right back on your clit himself, to send you into overstimulation by his doing, but he doesn’t give into his fantasy so quickly. Firstly, he stands up and walks over to you and sits next to your tired body that’s panting, staring up at the ceiling. Joby kisses your forehead, but he feels anything but remorse for what he’ll order you to do. 

“Did I tell you you could stop?” He asks you, like you’re a baby. 

“Oh, Joby!” you whine loudly. 

“I didn’t, did I?”

“No…” 

“Correct!” he taunts. “Come here.”

You sit up and crawl in between his legs, laying against his chest. He grabs the vibrator and turns it onto the highest setting, not hesitating to hold it against your clit. The feeling shocks you immediately and you whine out against his shoulder. 

“Ah- I- Oh, Joby! It’s too much! It’s s’much Joby!” 

“If you want to act like a helpless little bitch I’m gonna treat you like one.” 

You moan while you shuffle your feet and move against his stomach, feeling the erection straining at his pants. You’re barely distracted though, because you’re so overwhelmed by the high pressure he’s emitting against your sensitive bud. You breathe against him— engulfed by body odor and cigarette smoke. You feel your second orgasm impending fast.

“Please, I- I’m- Hmngg- Please!” 

You flail against the toy and cry out against his shoulder as your orgasm crashes, to what feels like all over your body. Your legs shake while you yelp, losing feeling in your core for a brief moment. He keeps the vibrator pressed against your cunt, sobbing with cum and clenching hard on nothing.

“Joby it’s too much! Too much! I- ah- hmphh!” You scream against his chest and tears start to form in your eyes, the vibrator constantly hurts your core and stings at your clit. You weep against his body. His dick is rock hard, straining against his pants, and you can feel it while you rub and whine and cry and squirm against him. He simply kisses your head. 

“You can handle it.” 

The pain settles in fast as another knot snaps in your stomach, and all you can feel is hot. He presses down and lets up repetitively, drilling the vibrator onto your bud. You flail around while you shuffle your feet. Drool pools in your mouth as you scream and moan with your mouth agape. You dig your head against his side, and slobber drips out of your mouth, staining on his white tank top. His dick twitches again and you can hear a groan escape his mouth, quiet yet pronounced.

 The pain subsides and turns into pleasure again. You’re melted into an incoherent, babbling mess. 

“Job- ah, uh, ff- hmngg, Jo- ah- by!” You’re screaming against him. You can barely breathe. You love it. 

“Such a pathetic whore,” He growls into your ear, grinding his erection against your back. “You like that, huh? You like being fucked by this cheap shit? Do I need to stop fucking you so you can use your toy more often? ‘Ah- ah, oh Joby!’— you’re hilarious!” 

“‘Need you— you— ah!— in me,” you whine all over him.

He takes the vibrator off of your cunt abruptly and turns it off. 

“Do you need my cock,” he asks, “or do you need this?” he waves the toy in front of your face, and presses it to your lip. He throws it next to you. You look up at him against his chest as he stares down at you. Your eyes flutter. 

“Both— please,” you’re starting to cry from the lack of contact. 

Joby wouldn’t admit this to you, but watching you cry in his lap made him feel a bit remorseful for being such an asshole to you. He doesn’t relent, though, he simply pets your hair and growls again, “Flip over, you dumb bitch.” 

You try to move, mewling as you pick your arms up and attempt to face him. You just can’t. 

“Aww, is my pretty baby too sore to move?” He taunts.

You nod your head and sniffle. Joby sits up and lays you down in front of him, your pussy inches away from his crotch. He swipes his fingers between your drenched folds, bringing his hands to lips, licking off your slick. He unbuckles his belt and throws it to the side, unbuttoning and unzipping his tight jeans. He pulls down his boxers and his cock springs out immediately. Precum leaks from his bright pink tip, begging to be inside you. He swipes his fingers over your slit again and rubs his cock against your thigh, shoving his slick covered fingers in your mouth, gagging you for a moment. You moan, and he takes his fingers out of your mouth.

“Joby please!” You beg, coughing— spitting. 

“God I don’t know how you aren’t embarrassed at yourself. Drooling for my cock. You want my cock?” He mocks your whining, “Huh, yeah?” 

“Please,” you beg in a broken sob. 

Joby scoffs and laughs at you, bringing his cock away from your thigh and rubbing it against your soaked folds. You moan when his cock touches your swollen clit, and yelp when he finally shoves himself in you, giving you no time to adjust. He takes your legs and wraps them around his hips, fucking into you fast. 

He leans over your body, grabbing one of your tits and flipping at your nipple. You’re weak— voice getting sore from screaming and moaning. He fucks in and out of you relentlessly, grunting when your walls spasm around him. 

All that he can give you isn’t enough, as much as you try and convince yourself it is. With all of the prior simulation compared to him fucking you, it’s not enough, even if his cock is hitting all of the right places. You look up at him, and he’s squeezing his eyes at the ceiling, swallowing hard as you see his Adam's apple disappear and appear quickly.

You grab the vibrator from your side and quickly flip it onto the highest setting, applying it to your clit and crying out from the double stimulation. Joby snaps his head down when he feels the vibrator hum around you. 

“Can’t get enough huh? Fucking slut.” 

He leans over you and takes control of the vibrator while he ruts into you at a brutal pace. He uses his thumb against the tip to press down onto you. You’re squirming against him with tears rolling down your face in bliss. Spit is pooling to the side of your face, thrashing back and fourth. 

His cock curls deliciously, kissing your cervix when he fucks into you. You’re whining and moaning his name when you look into his eyes and begin to squirt clear liquid onto the lower part of his shirt. He holds the toy against your clit, and it doesn’t stop streaming. You’re moaning with euphoria, and you cum almost immediately around his cock, squirting all over the front of his shirt. 

He’s fucking into you harder and riding out your high while you clamp down on him, and the tightness is enough to make him cum as well, but he quickly pulls out and lets the white droplets bead all over your stomach, leaning over and kissing your tits. 

Your squirting ends and Joby finally takes the vibrator off of your cunt and turns it off. He’s drenched in your fluid, towering over your body and groaning as he smears his cum all over your stomach with his hand, and grabbing your tits with the stickiness making noises as he takes his hands off of you. 

Joby lays down next to you, and you’re moaning out quiet sobs as you’re still coming down from your high. 

“Are you okay baby?” He asks with sincerity, the juxtaposition of how he’s acting almost enough to alarm you.

Your eyes flutter, you nod your head slowly. “Legs… hurt s’bad,” you mutter. 

“They’re hurting you, princess? Do I need to kiss them better?” 

“Mhmm…”

He sits toward your thighs and licks them, tasting your juices and pecking at them. You’re so tired from the countless orgasms you just endured. Your eyes are closing with tiredness. Joby takes his head from your thighs and massages them when he lays back next to you. 

“You got me soaked, baby.” 

“I know…” You acknowledge quietly. 

“Do you need to sleep?” 

“Mhm…”

“Go ahead and sleep baby, I’ll get you all cleaned up when you wake up.” 

“Thank you Job.”

“Of course, my cockdrunk babydoll.” He chuckles at the name he gives you. You kiss Joby on the cheek and fall asleep with your hand on the back of his neck. 

#edward nashton #paul dano #burt fabelman #calvin weir fields x reader #calvin weir fields #danonation #edward nashton smut #edward nashton fic #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #joby taylor #joby taylor smut #joby taylor x reader #paul dano x you #paul dano fanfic #paul dano nation #paul dano riddler #paul dano x reader #danoberry

[cannedbeefaroni]

May I ask very politely for some NSFW Calvin head canons please and thank you 🥹

bro i was literally just thinking about that man. this one's for u anon <3

to him sex is like a game. he is equal parts a top and a bottom, but if you wanna top him you have to fight for it. he's an annoying little brat when it comes it, and if you really wanna top him, you gotta be a good brat tamer.

when he tops you, he's very much into degradation, edging, hatefucking, all that shit. he's just a little bit sadistic.

if he likes you enough, he'll be totally pussywhipped. he'll do anything you ask of him. he'll still be a brat but he'll give you a break.

i think he'd like getting fucked. dont hate me for this but i think he has a mommy/daddy kink. he wouldnt wanna be called daddy, but he'd def call you mommy/daddy while you top him.

he whimpers loud. next bullet point

when dating him at first, it would probably take a while for things to escalate to sex. once he knows you want it, he would probably feel as if you only want him for shallow reasons, and hold off from sex until he trusts you more (this does not apply to ruby. the second she started existing he was railing her 24/7 ON GOD. wish we could've seen it).

speaking of ruby, remember how she would always leave her underwear around the house in random spots? she def did it because cal is a filthy pervert with an underwear/panty fetish. girl even ripped off her panties in public.

i think he is capable of having sweet and romantic sex, especially if its make up sex.

this man would not make a good boyfriend. idk if you can fix him but you can impregnate him ig. if i had a friend who was dating him i'd tell them to dump his ass.

he's the kind of person who'd fuck his ex, obviously only if they're both single.

if you date him you two will probably break up and get back together 500 times if you end up being long term

#thank you for the ask #danonation #danocel #paul dano #calvin weir fields smut #calvin weir fields #calvin weir fields x reader #ruby sparks #nsft

[danosrosegarden]

about time - calvin weir-fields x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day sixteen. prompt: hatefucking. 🎃}

{contains: a toxic relationship, penetrative sex (genitals/gender of reader not specified), hair pulling, and something of an orgasm denial.}

☽ What were you trying to prove, burrowing yourself into a situationship with a guy like Calvin? Were you trying to prove to yourself that you could change him, whip the acidic toxicity right out of him, make him husband material? Not likely, you've learned, unless you had possessed magical powers.

☽ There were times Calvin tap-danced on your nerves and genuinely hurt your feelings. There were times it seemed he thought so little of you, you wondered what it said about you that you were still sticking around. You derived no pleasure out of the moments where he'd coldly shoo you away while he was working. It wasn't fun to feel his disapproving eyes glaring, burning through your skin when you were spotted talking to another man. Could he really blame you, though? Those writer's parties were so damn boring. And you just wanted to talk to him and share his company sometimes. It's not like it's your fault he's constantly working.

☽ Whatever. Who cares. Everything felt equal when you had him by the roots of his hair, anyway. He was laughably pathetic like this, squirming around hopelessly while you'd ride him, your hips swirling and snapping onto him at a brutal, unforgiving pace. As much as the warm, sweet, forgiving core burning inside of you wished to give in to his whimpering pleads for more, you don't really think he deserves it.

☽ You give him another rough tug by his hair and giggle at the sight of his thick glasses slipping down his nose. It was a blast to make him writhe and tremble and watch a thin sheet of sweat cover each inch of his hot skin.

☽ Stupid whore. Dumb slut. You're gonna feel everything you've made me felt. You're going to feel the burning shame of hearing your own pitiful mewls broiling on your cheeks. It's about time you learn your place: beneath me. Worshiping me. Adoring me wholly. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to beg for it.

☽ He's just about broken by the time he's ready to cum, scratched record spitting please, I want it, please, I need it. But does he deserve it? you think with a devilish smirk. Does he deserve it at all?

☽ You know, with a deep and dark cloud of dread fogging up your gut, that you've sealed your fate by moving your hips up so that he slips out of you, left to finish himself off. You can't even imagine the sheet-gripping, tear-stained kind of overwhelm he's going to put you through when it's his turn to be in charge. But seeing his pathetic, pleading, pouting lips quiver...watching his slick, glossy eyes glaze over with pained lust...seeing those quavering hips buck up into nothing, desperate for anything...it's enough to make you quit caring entirely.

#eli's writing #danonation #paul dano #calvin weir-fields #ruby sparks #calvin weir-fields x reader #calvin weir-fields x you #calvin weir-fields x y/n #kinktober #kinktober 23