#A mash of their themes or something- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 1 month ago

Text

Monster (S)mash - Task Force 141 x Female Reader - Porn Star AU

Content & Warnings: Porn Star AU, group sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, cnc, restraints, anal sex, double penetration, haunted houses, masks, knifeplay, creampie, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Group Sex)

On the set of Monster (S)mash, the monsters come out to play. It's your first themed porn film and it's set in a haunted house. You're eager. Excited. But you've never taken something like this on before. You're filming with four of the greatest names in porn, and you don't want to mess this up.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Would you like to review the scene? Go over boundaries again?"

Kate Laswell, the Intimacy Coordinator, takes a seat on the opposite couch.

"I'd like a refresh," replies Johnny. "Now that I'm in character." He grins, gesturing at himself, and you almost laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

Johnny MacTavish, known in the industry for his many creampie videos, is dressed as a crazed clown with a red wig and exaggerated makeup. His clothing is nothing more than a black industrial vinyl apron covering up the important bits. Kyle Garrick, a connoisseur of the cam world, sits next to him in a fresh white robe with a Jason Voorhees mask sitting on top of his head, the elastic band digging into his skin behind his ears.

Kyle taps away at his phone. "I should go before you, mate." Kyle glances up and winks at you. "Since I’m up first."

You feel heat rush to your cheeks. Kyle is incredibly handsome—all four of them are—but Kyle has a gentle swagger that flusters you a bit every time he addresses you. The two others, John Price and Simon Riley, are still in the makeup tent transforming into a werewolf and a demon.

While you've been on various porn sets, this one is far more complex than previous films you've been a part of. Monster (S)mash is set in a "haunted house." You'll go room to room, each containing one of the four men before it ends with the five of you partaking in each other. Filming is expected to take all day and possibly into the next.

Kate finds a comfortable spot on the sofa and addresses the two of you. "Your scene takes place in a forest with a cabin. They'll be a fake machete. We're looking at knife play. Some c-n-c. A bit of a chase. What do you think about that?"

Kyle shrugs and then glances at you. "Sounds fun. I'm excited. But it's what you want." He gazes at you expectantly.

You shrug. "What we talked about during our meeting yesterday is good with me."

Kyle nods. "I remember."

"And we know the safe word and the non-verbal signal in case anyone needs to stop?" asks Kate.

"Apple," says Johnny.

"Three fingers with a wrist shake for non-verbal," adds Kyle.

Kate smirks. "And what if someone is restrained and cannot shake their hand?"

"Then three fingers will do," you finish.

She smiles, clearly content with that answer. "Very good." She clasps her hands and then pushes up from the couch. "My assistant and I will be standing off to the side watching and listening for a signal."

Rodolfo, the director’s personal assistant pops his head in. “We’re ready for the first scene.”

Kyle groans as he stands, returning the Jason mask to its proper place. The robe is gone and tossed onto the sofa beside Johnny. Kyle is completely naked underneath it all. You follow him out, robe still on.

"Head that way to mark," Rodolfo says to Kyle and then he gestures at you, beckoning you closer. "Stand here."

You find your mark and then remove your robe, handing it off to Rodolfo who politely keeps his gaze averted. Unlike Kyle who wears nothing, you're in a skimpy black thong that's more string than material.

“Quiet on set!” comes Alejandro Vargas’ voice from the director’s area. He’s standing behind a monitor, watching whatever is coming through on the camera.

There's some minor rustling before all goes silent.

"On three...two...one."

You stand just outside the entrance of the fake haunted house. Taking a deep breath, you count to three. Glancing over your shoulder, you deliberately stare off-camera, and then head inside. The camera moves forward as you walk, focusing in on the makeshift sign.

You will be touched, carried, restrained, played with...

The camera lingers on the sign for a few seconds before following you into the dark.

"Cut!" Alejandro calls out. "Let's hold there. Get her to mark two."

Rodolfo appears, gesturing toward the first "room" of the haunted house.

Each set is separated by curtains. With the lights on, it looks a bit silly, but during filming and post-production editing, no one will know that these scenes weren't filmed in an actual haunted house attraction.

As you step up to your mark, a tingle of excitement swells in your belly. You've always found your job fun and enjoyable, but this is the first themed film you've attempted. While the film crew and intimacy coordinator have solid reputations in the industry, the four men you're working alongside are known for their decency, politeness, and general kindness when working with others. During yesterday's meetings, they were incredibly focused, asking questions, and spent extra time wanting to know and remember your boundaries and limitations.

When you first started out, that was unheard of. You’d show up to set and hope for the best. Discussions about limitations and boundaries were few and far between.

"Going on three...two...one."

You enter the first room.

It's arranged to resemble the front of a cabin in the middle of the woods near a lake. The cabin is just a facade anchored onto a wall while blue lighting creates water-like ripples off the front of the cabin. The path to the "exit" is lined with two folding chairs, a metal picnic table, and a makeshift campfire with fake flame included. Ambient nature sounds play in the background, but it's only loud enough to create an unsettling atmosphere.

Slowly, you step around the two folding chairs and walk past the picnic table, glancing around in feigned nervousness as if danger lurks around every corner. That danger is just Kyle in his Jason mask.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Kyle appears. Standing near the makeshift exit, he is completely naked other than the mask and the machete clenched in his right fist. You freeze, holding up your hands in a placating gesture.

Kyle rolls his shoulders and neck. You hear the audible pop from where you're standing. He saunters forward, turning the machete handle end-over-end in his palm. Though you know the machete is fake, and that Kyle won't harm you, your fight-or-flight response kicks in. It fuses with your excitement and underlying arousal, sending your senses into overdrive. Your vision narrows, focusing on Kyle as he swaggers toward you.

"No," you whisper, backing toward the spot you entered from.

Kyle lunges, and you shriek, turning on your heel to dodge out of the way.

Spreading his arms wide, Kyle blocks your way forward. You step to the left and he matches your movement, the machete blade outstretched. While the two of you discussed this scene with the intimacy coordinator, the chase is entirely improvised. You don't know what Kyle will do or how he'll eventually trap you. The idea is thrilling, warming your body with heightened anticipation.

Stepping around the edge of the picnic table, you aim to dart around him on the right side. Kyle leaps over the fake flames and lands in your path. He swings the machete and you duck. The blade is nothing more than rubber, and his aim is purposefully wide.

As you turn away, Kyle follows, his stride casual and calm. It's infuriatingly sexy how sure of himself he is. And somehow, you're flustered by him, even as you try to make for the exit.

But there is no escape—and it's not like you want to get away from him.

Kyle's muscled arm catches you by the stomach. He hauls you against his chest, even as you wiggle and squirm, lashing out as if that will do anything. His strength is apparent in the way he confidently keeps you close, unafraid that you might accidentally clip his jaw with your knuckles.

The camera moves in as he brings the machete up to your throat, pressing the rubber blade against your jugular.

"Stop moving," he growls, the mask muffling the sound.

You cease your squirming, both hands grasping his forearm. The edge of the mask digs into the side of your face, and his hard cock presses roughly against your back.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asks. The low gruffness in his voice sends a bolt of heat straight to your pussy.

You whimper, but say nothing.

Kyle lightly slaps the inside of your upper thigh. "Answer me."

"I'll be good," you gasp, the sting of his strike causing your muscles to clench, ass bucking into his pelvis.

"You'll be what?" This time he squeezes your thigh.

"A good girl."

He makes a pleased sound as the machete falls away and his arm releases you. Grabbing the back of your neck, Kyle uses his grip to turn you around, to force you to look at his face. With the mask, all you can see are his eyes. They're in shadow, but fuck, they're gorgeous.

With a final squeeze, Kyle forces you to your knees. His cock bobs in front of your face. Your lips part, but Kyle keeps a firm grip, allowing nothing. He is in control.

Your gaze is entirely focused on him. You have no idea where the camera is, and there is no point in looking. It's not your concern.

"Wider," he instructs, and you present your mouth to him, tongue out. "That's it."

The head of his cock taps against your tongue and then slides back and forth over its surface, teasing what's to come.

You want it. You want him.

Kyle's hand moves from the back of your neck to the top of your head. He fists your hair there, and then guides your mouth around his cock, forcing you to take every inch of him. The cool rubber of the machete presses against your neck. Your hands rise, anchoring yourself by grasping the front of his bare thighs.

You hold on as he fucks your throat. Keeping your gaze on the mask, you relax your muscles, focusing on not gagging. Kyle is more length than girth, and the head of his cock roughly hits the back of your throat with each stroke.

"That's a good girl," he rasps. "My perfect slut."

The praise is wonderful. Perfect. You hold on to it, humming with contentment around him, the vibrations making him shiver. In your peripheral, you notice the glint of a camera lens but you don't glance over. You focus on Kyle, and how eager you are to get both of you off.

Kyle is rough but not overly slow. He's careful not to go too far. His movements are restrained but controlled, and that only turns you on more. One of your hands slips between your thighs and you find yourself blissfully wet.

You circle your clit and then dive downward to slip one finger, and then two, inside your pussy. Repeating the motions only builds the oncoming orgasm like a viper hidden in a pile of leaves, waiting to strike.

"Are you fucking yourself with your fingers?" Kyle's question isn't meant to be answered. It's rhetorical. He knows you are. He can see it.

With his cock in your mouth, you're unable to answer. One watery tear rolls down your cheek and Kyle lightly taps the machete blade against your throat.

"Not being a good girl. Didn't tell you to do that."

The machete disappears. Using his grip on the top of your head, Kyle guides your mouth off and away with a wet pop. He drags you to your feet, and as you move to run from him, Kyle presses the tip of the machete against your stomach.

"Get on the table," he growls. "Now."

You glance over your shoulder briefly to figure out where it is. The path is clear—just a few steps and you're on it. Kyle prods you with another poke of the machete.

Moving backward, you eventually bump into the edge of the table. Kyle does not help you up but the top is just below hip-level. You get on easily.

"On your back. Legs spread."

The command in his tone is undeniable. You do exactly as Kyle says. The camera is directly behind him, following his forward advance. Kyle wraps his hand around your ankle and tugs, dragging you to the very edge until you're close to falling off.

Without ceremony or elegance, he tears away your thong and tosses it aside. Kyle lines himself up and thrusts.

"Fucking hell," he groans.

You moan loudly, toes curling as your pussy takes all of him. The stretch is just enough to hurt but entirely euphoric.

Kyle slams the machete down onto the table next to you. In seconds, he has one hand over the front of your throat and the other on your inner thigh, keeping you wide as he drives in and out of your body.

This is where he's roughest, and you don't care at all. It's delicious. Glorious. From this angle you can watch every corded muscle shiver as he moves.

And the eye contact.

Kyle won't stop looking at you. His gaze is firm. Heavy. You are trapped by it as much as by his strength. His hand on your inner thigh slides further inward until he's almost on your pelvis. The camera shifts to point directly at where your bodies meet just as Kyle's thumb starts rubbing slow circles around your clit.

The building orgasm shivers outward, stretching into your limbs. A sense of numbness comes with it, as if you're floating above your body. It lingers there at the heightened apex before crashing down around you.

Your body tenses—seizes. Kyle groans, continuing to thrust through it. His thumb keeps stroking, and the intensity continues, wave after wave flooding through your system until you near overstimulation.

Kyle's thrusting increases, a pounding rhythm that signals his coming end.

"Fuck," he groans, hand around your throat tightening slightly.

The fingers on your thigh dig in, and Kyle stills, his sigh a gentle rainfall. You feel your pussy flood with warmth as his release hits him. You see the shudder, watch as his eyelids close behind the mask, and the keen pulse of his veins in his arms.

Kyle thrusts once. Twice. And then with a heavy sigh, grasps the base of his cock, stroking it as he slowly eases out. The camera comes into view, panning inward to catch the sight of his cum. Kyle keeps you still, gaze lingering on you. He's waiting for the camera's retreat.

Just as it backs away, Kyle's grip on you loosens. You're the pretend, helpless victim no longer.

Gripping the machete, you strike out. Kyle avoids your terrible swing, and that gives you your change. Off the table and onto the floor, you rush toward the exit, not looking back though you hear his enraged growl and the swoosh of air as he lunges for you.

You disappear, nearly stumbling into the next room as the director calls for the end of the scene.

"Cut!"

You catch yourself before falling forward, a little breathless. Poking your head out from behind the curtain, the set team comes rushing in, moving objects out.

"Let's set the next scene."

As you step out, Rodolfo and someone from the makeup department rush in. You're offered your robe which you politely decline but accept the water.

"You good, love?" Kyle approaches, removing his mask, gaze expectant and observing.

"Yeah. I'm good," you reply, taking another gulp of water.

His observation isn't one of keen interest but one of concern. He's checking you over. Making sure he didn't harm you.

"I didn't hurt you?"

You're a little sore but it feels good. "No," you answer. "Promise. I'm fine."

He grins, relief clear on his face. "Thought I might have been too much."

You shake your head. "Not at all."

Rodolfo checks his watch. "Ready for the next scene? Or would you like a break?"

You cap the water and hand it to him. "I can handle it."

He nods. "Be ready in five."

After a bathroom break, a brief touch-up, and a gentle cleanse between the thighs, you're herded to the next mark.

"We're going in ten...nine..."

Your robe is removed and water whisked away. The camera is somewhere in the room already, ready for you to step out from behind the curtain.

"...three...two...one."

You emerge, knowing that this might be the scene you need to call a stop to. Not that it'll be Johnny's fault, but the place is absolutely ghastly.

It's set up like a meat processing warehouse. The room is bathed in red light. Fake bodies wrapped up in cloth hang from the ceiling along with a few hooks on chains. There are two "exits" covered in plastic strip curtains. One is a true exit and the other is where Johnny is supposed to emerge from, but you have no idea which.

The camera follows your forward movements as you navigate around the hanging set pieces. Against the wall is a stainless-steel table. On it are bloody body parts all haphazardly stacked on top of each other.

As you make it to the middle of the room, Johnny appears—not that you see him. You don't notice him at all. It isn't until he revs the chainsaw he's holding that you do. It startles you so bad that you stumble backward into a fake body, almost tripping on your own foot.

Johnny charges forward, much faster than Kyle. The hanging bodies, hooks, and chains are in the way. You try to push them aside, to run as you're supposed to, but it hampers your movement.

Johnny catches you quickly.

Cornering you between a trio of hanging bodies, Johnny circles the space, revving the chainsaw as he walks. There is no chain on it, but he doesn't point it at you. He keeps it pointed away from his body and yours.

Transferring the chainsaw to one hand, Johnny snags your upper arm, dragging you against him. You beat at his chest, the vinyl apron slippery when your skin makes contact. Nothing happens. Johnny is solid.

With his grip on your arm, Johnny hauls you toward the body-covered table. He sets the chainsaw down and then both hands are on you. Spinning you around to face him, you attempt to fight him off even as he restrains you, attaching handcuffs to your wrists with ease.

“Let me go!” you shriek, but Johnny only laughs. It’s manic and high—completely deranged. It’s wonderful acting. You’ll give him that.

With a sharp tug on the connecting chain, Johnny sends you stumbling. He steps out of the way, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp slap. You yelp but manage not to fall. The smirk on his face tells you everything. He’s loving this.

You attempt to strike out at him but Johnny is so much stronger.

Using his massive, muscled arms, Johnny wrestles for control, winning easily. You’re herded to the center of the room. At one of the hooks, Johnny lifts your arms over your head, hooking the connecting chain on the nearest one.

Everything stretches, but it’s not painful. It's a good stretch and just enough to keep you on your feet but appear as if you're hanging in the air. It's a great trick. You're on full display for the camera and for Johnny.

You’re facing away from Johnny, and you have no idea where the camera is. All you’re aware of is your breathing, and the swelling tightness in your muscles as the stretch starts to curl forth a gentle ache.

You’re hanging there. Untouched. Waiting.

There’s a gentle brush against the back of your thigh. You jerk against the touch, tilting your head to catch a glimpse of him. Johnny appears before you like a phantom. He steps into your view slowly. The red light bathes him in a blood-tinged glow.

Johnny grins, grasping your chin in his hand.

“Are you going to remain a good girl for us?” His Scottish lilt is sinful. You find yourself leaning forward as if you’ll kiss him. That grin softens, and then becomes a wicked thing.

Johnny drops to his knees before you.

His hands grab the backs of your upper thighs, lifting you off your feet. He guides your legs over his shoulders, hands adjusting to support your ass. Johnny’s mouth is on your pussy immediately, tongue teasing your entrance. The fake plastic nose he wears perfectly presses against your clit. It rubs back and forth against it as he devours your pussy.

The orgasm comes quickly and with sharp intensity. You scream out your pleasure, head falling back, eyes closed as Johnny continues to feast between your thighs. Your toes curl, the muscles in your lower back seizing and relaxing with each wave.

With a final lick, Johnny tilts his head back, smug with himself.

You’re gasping for air, chest heaving as Johnny returns your feet to solid ground. He ascends, hand undoing the ties that keep his black vinyl apron in place. He circles you as he does it, a teasing dance before it falls away.

Your gaze immediately drops, and fuck—Johnny is thick. There’s a decent amount of length but this man is all girth.

He palms his hard cock, gaze enraptured with the sight of you. Circling you like a predator, Johnny takes his opportunity to run his hands over your body, to touch everything. It’s been he comes to a stop behind you that the anticipation builds.

Johnny’s face presses against your neck as his hands grab hold of your hips. His cock rubs against your ass and then slides between your thighs. He rocks back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. The head of his cock pokes at your sensitive clit.

You whimper, and Johnny gives you relief.

With his grip on your hips, Johnny angles himself at your entrance. A quick thrust, and Johnny is home to the hilt. Your thighs are pressed against each other, and the thickness of Johnny’s cock is only intensified by the limited space.

He remains behind you, pumping steadily as you hang from the hook. Johnny’s hands on your hips delve, squeezing your thighs. He brings one palm down in a quick slap against it, your thigh jiggling from the strike.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers into your ear, and you know that’s only for you to hear.

While Kyle was a bit rough with you, but Johnny is steady, his rhythm hitting all the right beats until you’re numb with lust. You fall into it, heading leaning back against his as Johnny as his way with you.

At his end, Johnny’s groan morphs into a whimper. He comes inside you, his grip tight as he holds you flush against him. A few more thrusts and then Johnny is pulling you, forcing your thighs apart to show the camera the mess there.

You expect a pause as the camera lingers there. What you don’t expect is for Johnny to put his mouth back to your pussy, to suck his cum out of it, to stand and force your head back, slipping his fingers between your lips only to spit his cum down your throat.

He grins at you, licks his lips.

This dirty fucker.

Your thumb finds the small button on the cuffs. Like everything else, it’s a prop. You press the button. The chain breaks as it’s supposed to. The moment your feet are flat, you take off, rushing toward the exit.

You hear pounding footsteps and then—

“Cut!”

Johnny almost knocks you down on the way out. “Shit,” he gasps, grabbing on to you before you topple forward.

“Take ten!”

A robe is thrust at you, and Johnny is pulled away as someone else shoves another water into your face and someone else fusses with your hair and makeup.

It’s the maze that’s next. This one is completely staged compared to the other scenes. At a certain point, you, Johnny, and Kyle will converge on a singular point. Johnny on one side of you. Kyle on the other.

When you’re set, you enter into the makeshift maze. You don’t need to go far. Just a few feet. Johnny is right behind you, every step heavy and loud as he navigates the maze. Only a couple striders further and you’re trapped.

Kyle steps out of the dark and you come to a halt. But as you retreat, Johnny is right there, blocking your exit. Their hands are on you immediately. You have no control. You give in to them, allowing them everything. It’s nice to surrender, to hand control off to someone else.

They move you into position. Johnny’s cock slides home, filling your pussy. Kyle takes the other side, and then you’re full in both holes, groaning loudly with each thrust. Your hands seek, fingers digging into whatever they can find.

Over your shoulder, Kyle pushes up his mask enough to reveal his lips. You go in, tasting Kyle’s sweetness. His hand grasps the front of your throat, dragging you in for a deeper kiss.

Johnny isn’t one to be left out.

As Kyle breaks away from the kiss, Johnny reaches for him, the two men locking lips next to your face as they both move in and out of your body. You drape your arm over the back of your Johnny’s neck, and all you know is the perfect way they fill you, and the feel of their lips against your skin.

And when it’s over, you’re a little disappointed that it couldn’t continue.

There’s another break—this one longer than the others. Kate’s assistant massages your muscles, and she checks in before the graveyard scene with John Price. You’ll truly need some rest before the final scene with Simon Riley and the rest of the men, but you can do one more.

But only one.

And it’s the easiest of the bunch.

There is no chasing. No running.

You play the helpless damsel, pushing at John’s chest as if you don’t want it. All around you is smoke and shadow. The headstones around the two of you create a little circle, almost as if you’re in the center of a ritual.

You’re put on your hands and knees on the ground, the fog from the fog machine swallowing up your hands and legs. Price is behind you, already pumping, already taking from you like the wolf he’s supposed to be.

The makeup department did wonders. They gave him sharp teeth, yellow contacts, and a partially transformed look to him. It’s brilliant, really. He looks very much the monster.

Each stroke is deep. John presses on your lower back, forcing you into a different position, pushing your ass higher into the air. Your legs widen and then John increases his pace, his pelvis smacking loudly against yours. Skin meets skin, and your pussy quivers with excitement as the orgasm builds.

You stroke yourself between your legs, leaning on one side to keep yourself upright enough not to slip. You’re slippery between your thighs, and you can’t help but trace where your bodies meet. Your nail grazes John’s cock, and he emits a low moan.

John grips your ass harder, and then he’s pounding into you, using your body like it belongs to him. You lightly bite your lip, trying to focus on your building orgasm. Each stroke comes with a spank, jerking you against your teasing fingers.

“Oh—fuck,” you mewl as your orgasm comes raging forward, curling outward.

John fucks you through it, growling like a fucking animal behind you. When your orgasm wanes, his hand grasps the back of your throat, holding you in place as he continues. All you have to do is sink into it, to grin with contentment and let him have what he wants.

There’s something primal to the way he holds you down and fucks you. It’s different from the way Kyle kept you in place or the way Johnny fucked you. Even in their roughness they were sweet. John is all business, and you’re perfectly fine with that.

His cock is fucking perfect, his dominating demeanor a soothingly sensual experience. There’s something to be said about giving in—to submitting.

But it’s after the extended break that completely alters your brain chemistry.

Simon is the last. The very last.

There is no chase. No true lead up.

This room is set in hell. There are fake flames, reddish-orange backlighting, and a throne. Simons sits on that throne, lounging casually, legs wide, his cock and heavy balls on full display. He’s dressed like the devil, but there are no plastic horns or dollar store red cape. He is perfectly painted in red and black. From his head are twisting black horns that curl up and back. They’ve given him red contacts and fake canines for a vampiric bite.

You are in his thrall, sitting at the base of his throne when the camera turns on. There is a leather collar around your neck connected to a silver chain that Simon holds in his fist. He lightly tugs on it, urging you forward.

Your hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, coaxing him toward hardness. You tease the head with a swirl of your tongue before taking him into your mouth. Simon fists the chain, twisting another link around his fist. Every time you take him deeper, Simon shortens the chain further and further.

At first, there is no tightness. It grows shorter. Shorter still. The leather begins to bite into your skin. With each twist of Simon’s wrist, the leash shortens. It draws you closer to Simon, leaving no room for you to retreat—to get air.

Your nostrils flare as you breathe through your nose. Relaxing your throat, you suck him down, cupping his testicles gently in tandem with your movements. The only sound he makes is a grunt and you have no idea if that’s good or bad.

But his cock is hard. Solid. You can’t take all of him or you’ll fucking choke on it.

He tugs sharply on the leash. "In my lap, pet."

You do as Simon instructs, standing between his legs before turning around toward the camera. You sink down into his lap, and Simon leans back, gently guiding you to straddle his lap, legs wide and draped over his thick thighs. He rubs his cock against your pussy, and then you’re sinking down on him.

John arrives from the dark, still in costume. He prowls forward, coming up to the left side of the throne. He grabs your wrist as he comes to a stop, guiding it to his cock. You fist John just as Simon thrusts upward.

Kyle arrives soon after. He kneels in front of you and Simon, teasing your clit with his fingers. It starts as a gentle stroke before his tongue replaces them, swirling little circles against your clit. Simon thrusts upward again, and your pussy clenches.

Just before your orgasm crests, Kyle’s tongue descends, stroking against the space where Simon’s cock intrudes. He descends further, lightly sucking one of Simon’s balls into his mouth. It’s brief. Just a blip. And then his tongue is back on your clit.

Your orgasm comes raging forward, but just as your mouth opens to cry out, Johnny appears, grabbing the back of your head, filling your mouth with his cock.

Your body is theirs to use.

Theirs to enjoy.

Simon thrusts upward, and Kyle draws back, his lips glossy with your arousal. He puts the mask back into place, and Simon lifts you off his cock. You’re picked up. Turned around. You sink back down on Simon’s cock, and Kyle is right there, adding his cock to your pussy. It’s an incredibly tight fit. They rock their hips gentle as John and Johnny touch your body, guiding your hand and mouth back to them.

One of them comes inside you—but you have no idea who before you’re full of just one cock. There are two sets of hands on your ass, bouncing you on whoever’s cock is filling you up. You’re simply clinging on, fingers digging into Simon’s shoulders. His head dips, the horns brushing against your cheek as his tongue circles a nipple.

John grabs the bottom half of your face. “Open,” he instructs and you do so, eagerly sticking out your tongue. John jerks himself until his cum explodes on your tongue. He tips your head to the side and Johnny follow suit.

“Swallow,” growls John and you do exactly that.

Someone groans, and whoever is inside you comes. You’re lifted off Simon’s lap, brought to standing, and then promptly bent over the arm of the throne. Simon’s cock returns to your mouth, and someone settles behind you, spreading your legs before sliding inside.

Every time someone comes in your pussy, you’re moved. Switched. Bent over. Spread wide. Forced onto your knees. You take it all. Enjoying every orgasm. Enjoying every touch.

As your energy fades, it is Simon that takes the final fuck, who brings you into his lap. His hands are firm on your ass, bouncing you up and down his shaft as the camera zooms in on it. You are lost in him—lost in the bliss that pulses throughout your body.

You are perfectly fucked.

Perfectly content.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@marispunk @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @spookyscaryspoon

@ash-tarte @waves-against-a-cliff @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

636 notes · View notes

brunchable · 1 month ago

Text

This is your boyfriend, Mom? PT. 2

《 Lucas takes Bucky to bring-your-dad-to-school. 》

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Single Mom reader. Themes: Comedy. Fluff with Lucas <3 Also Bucky getting cockblocked at the end. Summary: Lucas has an upcoming bring your dad to school day, and he chose to being Bucky with him. A/N: Bucky x Lucas is starting to grow on me help🥲 Parts : 1 and 1.5

Lucas had been suspiciously quiet during dinner. Normally, you’d be hearing about how his day went, including stories about how he managed to outwit his teacher with some clever quip. But tonight, he was pushing his food around his plate like it had personally offended him.

You and Bucky exchange a glance. Something’s up.

“What’s wrong, Lucky?” you ask gently, leaning forward. “You’ve barely touched your mashed potatoes, and you love those.”

Lucas sighs dramatically, not even looking up. “It’s bring-your-dad-to-school day tomorrow.”

Bucky pauses mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “And?”

“And… nothing,” Lucas mutters, eyes fixed on his plate.

You tilt your head, trying to decipher the sudden gloom. “Well, that sounds fun. Maybe you should bring your dad. I’m sure he’d—”

Lucas immediately cuts you off with a loud groan, throwing his head back in frustration. “Ughhh, Mom! No! Dad's so boring. He works in finance. All he does is talk about spreadsheets and stocks. None of the kids will care!”

You can’t help but laugh softly. “He’s not that bad, Lucas. He could probably teach your classmates a lot about—”

“Boring stuff,” Lucas finishes for you, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout. “Last time he tried to explain stocks to me, I fell asleep with my eyes open.”

Bucky nearly chokes on his water, trying to stifle a laugh. “You fell asleep with your eyes open?”

Lucas nods seriously, “Mid-sentence, too. I think I went into some kind of boredom coma.”

You smirk, brushing a hand through Lucas’s hair. “Come on, he’s your dad. He’d probably love to come.”

Lucas gives you an exasperated look, then glances over at Bucky, who’s watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Well,” Lucas says, avoiding eye contact, “I was kinda thinking… maybe Bucky could come instead.”

Bucky looks surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “Me?”

Lucas shrugs, his eyes fixed on the table. “Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a metal arm and you work with the Avengers. You’re way cooler than someone who talks about dividends all day.”

You stifle a chuckle, giving Lucas a gentle nudge. “You’re sure? I mean, it’s bring-your-dad-to-school day, not bring-your-mom’s-boyfriend-to-school day.”

Lucas huffs and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, it should be. Besides, Bucky’s basically, like, half-superhero, half-robot, and a little bit grumpy old man.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “A little grumpy?”

“Only sometimes,” Lucas adds quickly. “But the metal arm makes up for it.”

You shoot Bucky a look, stifling a laugh, while Bucky grins down at Lucas. “So, you want me to come, huh? Even though I’m just ‘kinda’ cool?”

Lucas rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re cooler than spreadsheets.”

Bucky snorts and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “High praise.”

× × × ×

The Next Day: Bring Your Dad to School Day

Lucas had been jittery all morning, and you weren’t sure whether it was nerves or excitement. He kept fixing his hair and adjusting his backpack, sneaking glances at Bucky as if checking to see if he’d changed his mind about coming.

When you finally arrive at the school, Lucas shifts uncomfortably, standing close to you and Bucky with a mixture of anxiety and hope in his eyes. “You’ll come inside, right?”

Bucky crouches slightly to meet Lucas at eye level, offering him a reassuring smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it, buddy. Besides, I’ve gotta make sure I look cool enough for your friends, right?”

Lucas lets out a breath and nods, though he tries to play it off cool. “Just… don’t embarrass me, okay?”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender. “No embarrassment. Got it.”

As you enter the classroom, the air is buzzing with excitement. Kids are introducing their dads, proudly sharing what they do for work—doctors, engineers, even a dad who runs a bakery, much to everyone’s delight.

When it’s Lucas’s turn, the room grows quiet, and he shuffles nervously to the front of the class. He glances back at Bucky, his hands fidgeting at his sides, and when he starts speaking, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Um… this is Bucky. He’s not my dad, but he’s my mom’s boyfriend.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the room nervously before flicking back to Bucky, who gives him an encouraging nod.

At first, Lucas stammers, his voice soft and unsure. “He… um… he’s an Avenger.”

The entire class gasps, but Lucas doesn't look up. He shuffles a bit, glancing at the floor. “And, uh… he’s kinda cool.”

Bucky smiles warmly, but Lucas’s words grow more confident as he goes on, his voice gaining strength as he talks about Bucky.

“He helps me with my homework, even though he pretends like he doesn’t understand math… but he does. And… uh, he taught me how to ride a bike.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and you feel a lump forming in your throat as Lucas continues, his confidence building with every word.

“And… one time, when I was scared to sleep because of a thunderstorm, he sat with me until I fell asleep. He didn’t even get mad when I drooled on him.” A few kids giggle, and Lucas grins, glancing at Bucky. “He says his metal arm doesn’t feel anything, but I think he just says that so I don’t worry when I hold onto it too tight.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and your eyes start to well up with tears, your heart swelling as you hear the affection in Lucas’s voice.

“He helps me with stuff that’s hard for me, like when I don’t get something right away, and he never makes me feel bad about it. And… he told me that even superheroes need help sometimes, so it’s okay if I ask for help too.”

The classroom is silent, except for the occasional sniffle from you, tears pooling in your eyes as Lucas keeps talking, his confidence shining through.

“So yeah,” Lucas finishes, smiling now, “Bucky’s not my real dad, but he’s kinda like a superhero at home too. He doesn’t fly or have a shield, but… he’s the best.”

Bucky looks completely stunned, blinking back emotion as he stares at Lucas. The classroom erupts in applause, the kids clearly in awe of everything they just heard. You wipe a tear from your cheek, trying not to let anyone see how much Lucas’s words touched you.

As Lucas walks back to his seat, Bucky watches him with a mix of pride and disbelief. When Lucas sits down, the teacher looks at Bucky expectantly.

“Well, Mr. Barnes, it seems Lucas has given you quite the introduction,” she says warmly. “Would you like to say a few words about Lucas?”

Bucky clears his throat, standing a little taller as he glances over at Lucas, who’s avoiding eye contact, clearly a bit shy after all that. “Uh, sure,” Bucky says, his voice soft but steady.

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then smiles gently as he looks at Lucas.

“Lucas… he’s, uh, he’s kind of a big deal, y’know?” Bucky starts, his voice tender. “He’s got this heart that’s… I don’t even know how to describe it. Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. And he cares about people in ways that… well, I guess you don’t really expect from a kid his age.”

Bucky shifts, his eyes softening as he continues. “He’s tough. And not just the way he talks tough—which he definitely does, let me tell you. But he’s got this kind of strength that’s rare. The kind that makes him want to help other people, even when he’s having a rough day.”

He pauses, glancing at Lucas, who is trying to hide a small smile, his cheeks pink.

“I never expected to be the guy teaching a kid how to ride a bike or helping with homework. But with Lucas… I dunno, it’s different. It’s like he teaches me more than I could ever teach him. He’s patient with me when I mess up—‘cause, believe me, I mess up a lot.”

The class is quiet, listening intently as Bucky’s voice softens even more. “He makes me want to be better. And he never has to say that; it’s just the way he is. I didn’t think I’d be good at this kind of thing, being there for someone like him. But Lucas? He makes it easy. And… well, I’m just lucky I get to be part of his life.”

Bucky glances back at you for a moment, a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he looks at Lucas, smiling warmly. “I’m proud of him. More than I can put into words.”

The room is silent for a moment, the emotion in Bucky’s words hanging in the air, and you have to quickly wipe away a tear before anyone notices.

The teacher smiles, clearly touched. “That was beautiful, Mr. Barnes. Thank you for sharing.” She looks at the class. “Does anyone have any questions for Bucky?”

Dozens of hands shoot up, and Bucky laughs softly, still a little overwhelmed by the moment.

“Alright,” Bucky says, grinning. “Who’s first?”

A kid at the front waves his hand excitedly. “Is your metal arm, like, super strong? Can you crush stuff with it?”

Bucky chuckles and flexes his metal arm playfully. “It’s pretty strong. I’ve crushed a few things with it, but I try not to do that too often.”

Another kid raises their hand. “Do you know Captain America?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah, I know him. He’s my best friend.”

Lucas perks up at that, unable to resist adding, “He beat Captain America once. But that’s only because Steve tripped over his own shield.”

The class erupts into giggles, and Bucky shoots Lucas a mock glare. “Hey, I told you to keep that between us.”

The questions continue, with kids asking everything from how Bucky became an Avenger to whether he can fly. Every time Bucky answers, Lucas watches him with this quiet admiration, a look you hadn’t seen before.

Eventually, the teacher wraps up the session, thanking Bucky for his time. As you head out of the classroom, Lucas lingers by Bucky’s side, still a little shy but clearly proud of the whole experience.

“You didn’t embarrass me,” Lucas says softly, glancing up at Bucky as you walk outside.

Bucky smiles, ruffling Lucas’s hair gently. “And you made me look pretty good in front of your friends, kid. Thanks.”

Lucas shrugs, but you can see the small grin on his face. “Yeah, well… it wasn’t that hard.”

× × × ×

The house was quiet, the kind of calm that comes after a long, eventful day. You’d just finished tucking Lucas into bed, though his excitement from earlier had kept him talking longer than usual. His eyes had sparkled as he recounted every detail of the day, especially how cool his friends thought Bucky was.

Now, you found yourself standing at the doorway of Lucas’s room, watching him sleep peacefully, his small face nestled into his pillow, breathing steady.

Bucky’s footsteps were soft as he approached from behind, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin gently on your shoulder.

“He’s out like a light,” Bucky murmured, his voice low.

You nod, leaning back into him with a content sigh. “He had a big day.”

Bucky’s hold on you tightened slightly, and after a beat of silence, he asked, “Was it… okay? I mean, I didn’t mess anything up, did I?”

You turn in his arms, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Mess it up? Bucky, you were amazing. You saw how happy he was.” You pause, your voice growing more tender. “And how proud he was to bring you.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered, his usually stoic expression faltering for a moment as he glanced back at Lucas’s sleeping form. “I wasn’t sure… you know, about this whole ‘being a dad figure’ thing. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, overstep.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing lightly against the roughness of his stubble. “You didn’t overstep, Bucky. You’ve been exactly what he needs.”

Bucky looked down at you, his blue eyes reflecting a vulnerability he rarely let surface. “I didn’t think I’d be good at this,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think I could be.”

You shook your head gently. “You are, though. Lucas looks up to you. He trusts you.” You could feel your throat tighten, remembering the words Lucas had spoken earlier in the classroom, how he’d talked about Bucky with such affection and pride. “He loves you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as if the weight of your words was too much to take in. But then, after a long breath, he whispered, “Yeah. I think I love him too.”

There was a softness in his voice, a kind of admission that felt raw and real. You blinked away the tears that welled up again, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you murmured into his chest.

Bucky wrapped both arms around you, holding you close as if grounding himself in the warmth of the moment.

“I’m the lucky one,” he whispered into your hair.

After a few quiet moments, you pull away slightly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “You know, you didn’t embarrass him today, but you both did make me cry in the back of the classroom.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Yeah, I noticed that.” His smile turned warm, and he kissed your forehead softly. “Didn’t mean to make you cry, but I guess we’re all getting soft, huh?”

You laugh quietly, wiping the last of your tears. “Maybe just a little.”

Just then, there’s a small rustle from the bed, and Lucas’s sleepy voice drifts over to you both.

“Mom… Bucky?”

You both turn, finding Lucas sitting up slightly, rubbing his eyes with one small fist.

“Why are you guys whispering?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky grins, stepping over to the bed and sitting on the edge. “Just talking about how cool your day was, buddy.”

Lucas yawns, his eyes half-closed as he leans back into his pillow.

“You were cool today too,” he mutters sleepily, his words slurring a little. “Even if your hair still looks like it’s trying to run away.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “Thanks, kid.”

Lucas is quiet for a second before he adds, even softer now, “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky.”

Bucky’s expression softens. He reaches out, ruffling Lucas’s hair gently. “Me too, kid. Get some sleep.”

Lucas smiles faintly, his eyes already closing again as he settles back into sleep.

Bucky stands up, and the two of you tiptoe out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. Once in the hallway, Bucky exhales softly, as if letting go of something he hadn’t even realised he was holding on to.

You slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze. “You’re doing great,” you whisper.

Bucky looks down at your intertwined hands and nods, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, pulling you closer. “I think we all are.”

× × × ×

Lucas was sound asleep in his room, and you and Bucky finally had the house to yourselves. The TV flickered softly in the background, but you couldn’t care less about what was on. Bucky had already pulled you into his lap, his hands roaming under your shirt, his lips pressing hot kisses against your neck.

You let out a breathy laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed this.”

Bucky smirked, his voice low and dripping with desire.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” he growled, his hands gripping your waist. “I’m gonna take you upstairs, throw you on that bed, spread you out so wide—"

“Why would you do that to her?”

Both of you froze, and your heads whipped around in sync to see Lucas standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and holding his stuffed dinosaur.

Bucky blinked, his entire body going rigid as his face flushed a deep shade of red. "L-Lucas?" he choked out.

You quickly scrambled off Bucky’s lap, yanking your shirt back down while trying to hide your laughter.

“Lucky, what are you doing up? I thought you were asleep.”

Bucky's entire face flushed beet red, and he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "I didn't mean-what I said was-uh..." His brain was clearly not firing on all cylinders.

You bit your lip, trying not to burst into laughter as Bucky squirmed, knowing full well he had no idea how to recover.

"Why would you throw her? Then spread her out." Lucas asked again, his little face scrunched up in confusion. "She's not a ball or a sandwich.”

You stifled a giggle, watching Bucky flounder. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to string together some explanation.

"It's, uh... it's just an expression, buddy. You know, like when people say 'hit the hay' but they're not actually hitting anything?"

Lucas blinked, unconvinced. "But you said you were gonna throw her and make her spread open. What does that mean?"

Bucky's eyes widened in horror, and you couldn't hold it back anymore-you let out a loud snort, which quickly turned into full-blown laughter. Bucky glared at you like this is your fault, but you were too busy wiping tears from your eyes to care.

Bucky’s face was buried in his hands now. He muttered something unintelligible into his palms, and you could tell he was dying inside.

“It’s… just an expression,” he groaned, finally looking up, but clearly at a loss.

Lucas blinked, still not understanding. “I don’t get it. Do adults spread each other out when they’re tired?”

You were doubled over in laughter now, barely able to catch your breath. “Oh my God, this is the best thing that’s ever happened.”

Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was considering moving to another planet. He let out the world’s longest sigh before saying, “No, Lucas, adults don’t… spread each other out when they’re tired.”

Lucas squinted, still confused. “Then why would you say that?”

"I'LL EXPLAIN TOMORROW," Bucky blurted out, clearly desperate to end the conversation.

“Okay. But it sounds weird. Like, why wouldn’t you just say you’re gonna tuck her in? That’s nicer than throwing her and spreading her out.” Lucas nodded, though it was clear he still didn’t get it.

Bucky muttered something under his breath, staring at the ceiling like he was silently asking the universe for strength.

“You’re right, Lucas. Tucking her in is a much better way to say it.”

Lucas gave him a satisfied nod, as if he’d just solved the world’s biggest mystery. “Yeah. So next time, just say you’re gonna tuck her in.”

Bucky shot you a look that was half I hate you and half I’m going to die. “Sure thing, champ. Next time, I’ll… tuck her in.”

“Good,” Lucas said, completely oblivious to the awkwardness. “Can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t wanna go back to mine.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, buddy.”

Lucas turned to head back toward the hallway but stopped just before he left. “And Bucky?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, dreading whatever was coming next. “Yeah, Lucas?”

“Next time you should say ‘I’m gonna tuck you in real tight.’ That sounds better than spreading her out.”

Bucky didn't even try to respond, but then, after a brief pause, a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Alright, Mr. Tuck Expert,” he said, standing up quickly. “You’re gonna get tucked in first!”

Before Lucas could react, Bucky scooped him up like a sack of potatoes, tossing him over his shoulder. Lucas squealed in surprise, kicking his legs in the air as Bucky made his way to the stairs.

“Bucky! What are you doing?!”

Bucky laughed, giving Lucas a playful bounce. “I’m tucking you in, but I’m gonna do it real tight just like you said!”

Lucas giggled uncontrollably as Bucky carried him toward the stairs. “Not like that! That’s too tight!”

Bucky threw you a playful grin over his shoulder. “See you upstairs, doll,” he said smoothly. “Looks like we’re gonna have company in the middle tonight.”

Lucas kept giggling the whole way as Bucky disappeared up the stairs, bouncing him lightly like a sack of potatoes. You shook your head, still laughing, knowing full well that once Lucas was settled in the middle of your bed, Bucky would come back down for some unfinished business.

711 notes · View notes

occamstfs · 2 months ago

Text

Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym.

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing.

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?”

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change.

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion.

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw.

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene.

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?”

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department.

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed.

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead, much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him.

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm.

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office.

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside.

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition.

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven.

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss.

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy.

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions.

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.

#male tf #occam2000 #hair growth #mental change #musk tf #dumber #muscle tf #jockification #masculinization #male transformation

577 notes · View notes

providencehq · 1 month ago

Text

You punch the weird new meta popping up in your city and he starts leaking weird green vapors from his mask you just broke, wyd?

Powerhouse AU aka where I just draw Danny in my silly AU in more outfits. This is before he goes into his actual costume and is using a mash of different themes, creating a red herring for those chasing after him. And because he's a nerd, it's plane related (I love the space theme adjacent Danny a lot however in this AU my boy is going to uni for maths and engineering and plans on going to a trade school for aircraft mechanics. This because 1) I like planes 2) he doesn't get everything he wants. Astronaut or honestly anything akin to that isn't possible in this AU, he has health issues. Not possible. 3) ties in with his parents and their inventions 4) I really like planes.)

This is basically when JL start to realize that maybe the new meta isn't something like a super and the best theory of being a green lantern is a bust, they have no fucking idea what they're dealing with.

Also I don't understand how to color, sketch is always better. Thus both.

#mine #my art #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #au #powerhouse au #crossover

426 notes · View notes

captain-joongz · 5 months ago

Text

Dragonheart; Masterlist

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut

Summary: The Gong-li Empire has been on the peak of its power for a little over a millenium, and there was a very simple reason for that - dragonkind. When the first emperor of the Li Dynasty struck a deal with a witch that would allow him to bind dragons to the crown and force them into obedience, it was the beginning of its reign of terror and the end of freedom for creatures as old as nature itself.

Now, a woman hoping to change everything enters the ranks of the elite dragon rider unit among the imperial army and meets seven men that not only change her life, but help her change the fate of the whole world.

Warnings and themes: unhealthy family dynamics, fighting against corruption and inequality, revolution, discussions and themes of slavery/sex slavery and forced bondings, violence, war, near death experiences, challenging relationship dynamics, angst, discussions of mortality and death, mating cycles (yes, i'm a slut, thank u), knotting (bc i said so), enough puns and jokes about riding to make you sick of me - each chapter will have it's individual warnings

Current word count: 35.9k

A/N: i've been really craving some good fantasy lately and i'm so in love with dragons, so of course i had to write something for our boys! for this setting, kind of imagine a fusion of asian and western fantasy, the same with clothing - it's going to be a mix of both together. also i'm doing whatever i want with the boys' hairstyles so it's different eras all mashed together, just based on what i liked the most

○ Chapter 1: On the wind of morning

⇝ The first encounter between a girl and a dragon. ⇜

○ Chapter 2: The moon hangs heavy

⇝ When meeting the thunder is bittersweet and family is complicated. ⇜

○ Chapter 3: Prove your heart

⇝ How far does a girl have to go to gain a dragon's trust? ⇜

Character studies

Notes to chapters:

Story lore: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Dictionary: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @stxrrielle @hobicakess @comicnerd557 @11thenightwemet11 @socksfirst1

@dachshunddame @channiespup @danielle143 @borahaetelevision @kingofbodyrolls

@jungshaking @futuristicenemychaos @ah2002 @tadomikiku @ambsv

@silscintilla @anaspectoflife @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @uniquecutie-puffs @starlight-1010

@authorpj @anjoellamorte @ami7-12bts @foreverddaeng @silscintilla

@canarystwin @ldysmfrst @nikkiordonez12 @mysteriousgeminizone @i-like-puppy-mg

@ttttt1re @xthefuckerysquaredx @crispynutella @asillyduck15 @icouldntcareless22

838 notes · View notes

p0orbaby · 2 months ago

Note

Could you do a blurb for alexia and reader and their daughters first bday? so fluffy it rottens my teeth

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the cake. It’s a two-tier monstrosity with pink icing and miniature elephants, because apparently, your daughter loves elephants. This is an assumption since she’s only one and her favourite activity seems to be slamming her tiny fists against the table and screaming at the Peppa Pig theme song. You glance over at Alexia, who’s meticulously arranging balloons into some sort of Pinterest-inspired arch. It’s tragic, really, because the balloons are deflating faster than her patience.

“You know she won’t remember any of this, right?” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her struggle with a particularly rebellious balloon.

Alexia doesn’t look up. “It’s not for her,” she mutters, teeth gritted, “it’s for us. And the photos. For the grandparents. You know”

You do know. The grandparents, who’ll scrutinise every detail, subtly implying that the cake should’ve been homemade and the balloons should’ve been organic or something. You glance at the clock. Two hours until the guests arrive. Two hours until you’re knee-deep in small talk with people you barely tolerate, discussing the milestones of babies that are all the same. They roll over, they laugh, they scream, and then they eat something they shouldn’t.

Speaking of, the baby—your baby—is currently sitting in her high chair, aggressively smearing mashed banana across her face like it’s avant-garde war paint. You sigh. At least she’s quiet for once. There’s a moment of eerie calm, like you’re in the eye of a storm. It won’t last. You sip your coffee, which is lukewarm and bitter, and stare at the pile of gifts in the corner of the room.

“Why do people insist on wrapping things for a one-year-old?” you ask, more to yourself than Alexia. “She’s going to eat the paper. And cry. In that order”

Alexia finally gives up on the balloon arch. “You’re right,” she says, walking over and inspecting the cake like it might explode. “But they want to feel like they contributed something. Everyone’s desperate to be relevant in a baby’s life”

You nod, because that’s exactly it. The party isn’t for the baby, or for you, or even Alexia. It’s for all these people who want to feel like they’ve done something. Like attending a one-year-old’s birthday party is some kind of moral achievement. A gold star for being a functional human.

The doorbell rings, far too early for guests, which means it’s probably your neighbour, Carol, who always shows up with unsolicited advice on baby care, as though she invented parenting. You open the door, and sure enough, it’s Carol, holding a gift bag that screams I bought this on sale at El Corte Inglés.

“Thought I’d come early to help,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan the room, resting on the cake. “Oh, you didn’t make it yourself?”

“Bought it,” you say, deadpan. “From the shop. With money”

Carol doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even blink. “Ah, well, the important thing is she’ll enjoy it. At this age, it’s all about the memories”

You glance at your daughter, now vigorously attempting to fling the banana off her high chair.

“She won’t remember this,” you say, but Carol’s already unpacking her baby advice, Alexia’s gone back to fighting with the balloons, and you’re suddenly wondering why you didn’t just fake an illness and cancel the entire thing.

“Happy birthday,” you mutter, to no one in particular.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader

260 notes · View notes

serpercival · 8 months ago

Text

MASH really is the show ever. Schrodingers sitcom. Themes that are still relevant today. Literal psychic who cannot be tainted by the mirror universe (the movie). Every shot and plot line that frames Frank/Margaret and Hawkeye/Trapper as rival couples. BJ Hunnicutt's gay swag. Klinger's everything. The delivery of every single line for Charles. Something in the water that makes people insane about guys who were on screen for four minutes. A head surgeon who needs to get pregnant. Show ever.

#MASH #mashposting

1K notes · View notes

tetheredfeathers · 8 months ago

Text

There's something so special about the fact that Katniss uses the word 'hunger' to describe her desire for Peeta. She could've said passion, desire, wanting but no she used hunger.

Katniss' prime motivator throughout life has always been food, she's spent hours foraging through the woods to uphold herself and her family members. Her thoughts have always been food concentric and you can see her obsessing in the first book, going into excruciating detail even when unnecessary.

A thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a chocolate cake.

That I’m being upstaged by a dead pig. My heart starts to pound, I can feel my face burning. Without thinking, I pull an arrow from my quiver and send it straight at the Gamemakers’ table. I hear shouts of alarm as people stumble back. The arrow skewers the apple in the pig’s mouth and pins it to the wall behind it.

I always find this paragraph so interesting, that out of everything Collins could've chosen to upstage Katniss, she chose food as her competition.

Even in the games Haymitch has to bribe Katniss with food to stimulate her romance. That being said food/hunger is a heavy recurring theme in the books and Katniss has always been drawn by hunger on instinct.

So kissing Peeta for her is instinct, it it something that pulls at her. Something she cannot live with out, because without it she shall starve.

I think this also goes back to her first interaction with Peeta which is again associated with food ( burnt bread), I find this scene a literal parallel to her 'starving' without him to the beach scene.

when I saw the dandelion and I knew hope wasn’t lost. I plucked it carefully and hurried home. I grabbed a bucket and Prim’s hand and headed to the Meadow and yes, it was dotted with the golden-headed weeds. After we’d harvested those, we scrounged along inside the fence for probably a mile until we’d filled the bucket with the dandelion greens, stems, and flowers. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad and the rest of the bakery bread.

This scene as well, one of her most important interactions with him is again associated with food/hunger.

So really the word hunger is the perfect fit for what she feels for Peeta, Food brings her hope and happiness, it is a literal and physical metaphorical motivator to keep going. And only Peeta can give her that.

#everlark #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #thg #thg mockingjay #thg series #catching fire #thg catching fire #tethered feathers #the hunger games peeta #katniss x peeta #peeta x katniss #peeta supremacy #peeta my beloved #katniss #thg katniss #feather writes

545 notes · View notes

thedemoninme141 · 13 days ago

Text

Woeful Tooth. (set in the "Not A Bad Day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday doesn't want to go to the dentist.

Theme: FLUFF!!!

Pairings: Wednesday x Fem Reader.

Warnings: Root Canal?!?

Thanks for the insight @cobaltperun

You weren’t one to overthink—well, not much. But the subtle shift in Wednesday’s mood was undeniable. After dating her for months, you had come to learn every expression she wore, no matter how imperceptible it might seem to others.

And right now, something was wrong.

And while Wednesday Addams wasn’t exactly the conversational type, her words now came in curt whispers, that might not alarm anyone else, but it worried you.

In the past few days, her choices leaned exclusively toward soft foods like soups, puddings, and smoothies. And Wednesday eating puddings? That scared you.

“Mashed potatoes, Wednesday?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She leveled you with a glare. “They are not mashed potatoes. They are boiled tubers, pulverized into an unrecognizable state… much like most victims in my books. I find their texture fascinating.”

“You hate soft foods,” you countered, leaning forward. “Last week, you said pudding was ‘an insult to the human palate.’”

She didn’t respond, instead taking an excruciatingly slow bite, her jaw moving in a way that looked… wrong. She was chewing… carefully?

“Oh my god. You’re in pain,” you blurted, a mix of concern and frustration bubbling up.

Wednesday’s hand twitched, the only sign that you’d struck a nerve. “Your imagination is as dramatic as Enid’s wardrobe. I’m fine.”

“She’s not fine,” Enid chirped from her side of the table, “She’s been super moody these days.”

You shot her a look. “When isn’t she moody?”

“Good point.”

Wednesday stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “If this riveting discussion of my character flaws is over, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” Without another word, she strode off, leaving you and Enid.

You didn’t confront her again until later that evening in her dorm, “Alright, spill it.”

Wednesday raised a single eyebrow, still not looking at you. “I’ve spilled nothing.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, weirder than usual. You’re always quiet but how did you get quieter than quiet? And don’t get me started on your sudden love affair with soft foods. Care to explain what’s going on?"

"Is this a lovers’ quarrel? Do I need to—" Enid just entered the room,

"Enid, no," you interrupted. "Enid, yes," Enid countered, smirking. You ignored her and turned back to Wednesday. "I’m serious. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been eating soft foods, avoiding anything crunchy, and barely talking. That’s not you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Wednesday.” Still nothing.

“Enid, start blasting pop music until she cracks.” You ordered,

"On it mam," Enid smirked going for her laptop.

At that, Wednesday sighed—an actual sigh—and turned to face you. “You are as relentless as the Grim Reaper, though far less charming.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “If you must know, I’m experiencing a mild inconvenience. It’s nothing worth discussing.”

You tilted your head, studying her. “Define ‘mild.’”

“An intermittent, dull ache.”

“In English?”

She scowled. “A toothache.”

“Wait, you have a tooth problem?” Enid’s grin widened. “This is hilarious.”

“I fail to see the humor,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“I’m calling the dentist,” you announced.

“No, you are not.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, “Pain builds character.”

“Pain builds cavities if you don’t deal with it,” you shot back.

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I enjoy the pain. It’s a constant reminder of mortality, a delightful ache that—”

“Stop. Just stop,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re not romanticizing a toothache right now.”

“You are overreacting,” she said coolly.

“And you’re underreacting!” you replied, unable to hold back any longer.

Enid laughed. “This is way better than the TV shows Yoko watches.”

You pointed a finger at Wednesday. “If you think I’m letting that tooth-problemed mouth anywhere near my things—” “What things?” Enid interrupted. You ignored her, focusing on Wednesday’s icy glare. “—then you’ve got another thing coming.” Wednesday stood abruptly, somehow towering over you despite her "height".

“I refuse to be dragged into some sterile torture chamber.”

“Oh, you’re being dragged, alright.”

You grabbed her hand, your grip firm despite her half-hearted attempts to wriggle free.

“This is a violation of my autonomy,” she hissed as you pulled her toward the door. “You’ll thank me later.” “You’re insufferable,” Wednesday muttered. “I love you too,” you replied Behind you, Enid called out, “WHAT THINGS?”

"This place reeks of mundanity," Wednesday muttered. You sighed, gripping her hand, which she allowed but did not return. "Wednesday, it’s a dentist’s office, not a dungeon." "I would prefer the dungeon," she replied dryly. Before you could respond, you heard the assistant's voice, "Wednesday Addams?" "That’s us," you said, standing and tugging Wednesday up with you.

"Well, I have some good news and some bad news," The dentist began. "Start with the bad," Wednesday said flatly. "Your tooth isn’t just decayed—it’s broken."

You blinked. "Broken? What do you mean broken?"

"It looks like it was fractured with blunt force—something hard enough to crack it deep into the root. That’s likely why you’ve been in so much pain."

You whipped around to face her. "Blunt force? What the hell, Wednesday? What did you do?"

Wednesday’s eyes flicked to you, her expression carefully blank. "Nothing of note."

"Wednesday…"

"I fail to see how this line of questioning is relevant," she replied.

You opened your mouth to press further, but the dentist interjected. "I understand this might be a surprise, but for now, let’s focus on treatment. We’ll start with a root canal to clean out the infection and save the tooth. It’s a multi-step process, so today we’ll address the infection and prep the area. Afterward, we’ll schedule a follow-up to place a crown and finalize the procedure."

You sighed, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to interrogate Wednesday. "Fine. Let’s just get it fixed."

The dentist nodded. "Alright, Wednesday, I’ll numb the area first, and then we’ll get started."

Wednesday didn’t even flinch as the needle approached. Instead, she shot you a pointed glance, as if daring you to comment. "She’s handling this easily," The dentist remarked as she drilled the decay. "Most people squirm a little." "Wednesday doesn’t squirm," you muttered, half in admiration, half in exasperation.

After about half an hour, the dentist stepped back, wiping her hands. "That’s the worst of it done. I’ve placed a temporary filling, but she’ll need to return for the crown placement. I’ll schedule the next appointment before you leave."

"Thanks, Doc," you said, relieved.

"Avoid eating anything hard or chewy until the permanent crown is in place. And no blunt force trauma to your mouth, please."

You shot Wednesday a look. She remained silent.

The bus ride back to Nevermore was quiet, You sat beside Wednesday, leaning your head against her shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you. "That wasn’t so bad," you murmured sleepily, your eyes drifting shut.

Wednesday didn’t respond, her gaze fixed straight ahead. But as the minutes ticked by, her eyes softened, shifting down to you. Your breathing was slow and even, your face peaceful against her shoulder.

Beating those boys in Weathervane, who Enid mentioned had made comments about you, was worth it. Even if it had cost her a tooth.

[Author's note: Trying to improve my one-shot writings more, how do you feel about this one? You guys can consider this is set in "Not A Bad Day"s universe, prolly after you two started dating, maybe I can write a one set on how Wednesday asked you out]

MORE ONESHOTS HERE--->WORKLIST

159 notes · View notes

gothgoblinbabe · 2 months ago

Text

✮ Monster Mash ✮

Logan Howlett x fem reader

A/N: I wanted to do something for spooky month and I’ve been dying to go to Monster mini golf because. I mean. Look at it. Does that not look so fun. It’s so fun. I haven’t been since I was little and I’m determined to go soon - anyway, I wanted to explain that if you don’t know what that is, it’s a chain of indoor mini golf courses that are hand painted in neon paint and have all these cool monster statues and themed holes. Also an arcade <3 I fucking love the arcade

I even included some pictures in the moodboard!

Yes I did laugh like a twelve year old boy every time I wrote “hole” so get the giggles out now

Summary: Picking a group activity was never easy, but with Halloween right around the corner, you came up with the perfect idea. Even if Logan hated it.

Warnings: swearing, I think that’s it? Good amount of fluff, This is a cute one

Word Count: 4k

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ⭑꒷꒦

Team building exercises sounded great when Charles brought it up, in theory.

You’d all spend one day a week doing an activity together. Each person - you, Logan, Ororo, Jean and Scott - got a chance to pick said activity, decided by who got to pick the week before. It seemed like an easy and fair system - except that some of you were very stubborn and wouldn’t agree to go anywhere half the time.

“I’m not doing that. I don’t want to,” Logan would say flatly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Too bad,” Scott would always say, “get in the car.”

This week was your turn and you were ecstatic, except that you couldn’t decide on what you wanted to do. Something in you was feeling nostalgic and longed to revisit somewhere you hadn’t been in a long time. You tried to think of what you did as a kid with your friends, what you did for your birthdays or places you wanted to go but never got to. You also figured since Halloween was around the corner, you should choose something kind of spooky.

You knew exactly where you wanted to go.

“I don’t get it,” Logan narrowed his eyes and looked at the colorful sign plastered on the front of the building, “what do monsters have to do with it?”

You stifled a laugh.

“They’re cute.”

“Cute?” Logan eyed one of the monsters painted on the outside wall, “define ‘cute’.”

“It looks like fun,” Jean shrugged, hand in hand with Scott as you all walked in together.

Monster mini golf was one of your favorite places to go as a kid. The blacklights, patterned carpets, familiar monster displays and neon lights reminded you of simpler times.

Once inside, you all got clubs and golf balls. You tried to hand Logan a club and he shook his head.

“I am not playin’ golf like some yuppie.”

“Does this look like a country club to you?” you gestured to your surroundings, “Logan, it’s mini golf. It's fun. Take the damn club or you can sit in the car for the next three hours.”

After a moment of hesitation, he begrudgingly took it from your hands and followed you onto the little neon course.

“I’m gonna kick your ass at this - just so you know,” you told him. If there was anything that could get Logan to participate, it was to challenge him.

“Oh, are you?” he narrowed his eyes and you knew you had him.

“Yeah, duh! And when I do win,” you smiled and pointed at a distant photo booth in the arcade room adjacent from the course, “you’ve gotta get in the photo booth with me.”

It may or may not have been an excuse to sit shoulder to shoulder in a little booth where you could smell his cologne and see his pretty face up close. Plus, you’d have a strip of photos to help you remember it. Having such a huge crush on him and never saying a thing about it meant that a moment in a Photo Booth could be all you’d ever have, and you still wanted it anyway.

“Deal,” he replied, holding out his pinkie so you could lock yours with his. You can’t remember where it started - maybe during downtime on a mission or a late night talk on the couch in the living room - but every time you made some sort of deal or agreement, you locked pinkies. It was like a pinkie promise to fulfill your end of the deal.

You locked yours around his and he goofily shook your hand all around while he still had a grip on you.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled, “let me go!”

He finally did with a short laugh.

“Okay, Romeo and Juliet,” Scott’s voice made you turn around, “can we actually start playing?”

Logan rolled his eyes and lifted the mini golf club over his shoulder to hit him with it, but you grabbed his bicep and made him slowly lower it.

“Is this gonna be like the last time we all went out?” Ororo asked, “because I can’t do a repeat of Six Flags.”

“We’re still banned for another six months,” Jean pointed out.

“I didn’t think they could kick you out for destroyin’ a concession stand,” Logan shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Scott asked.

“You started it, anyway.”

“So?”

“So? I’ll throw you through another one, fuckface -“

“Alright!” you interrupted with a false smile, “if either one of you get us kicked out of here, I will personally shave your heads in your sleep. Got it?”

Logan shuddered and immediately brought a protective hand up to his hair. They both nodded and you patted them on the backs.

“Okay, boys! Time to golf.”

You couldn’t even get past the first hole without hitting your ball over ten times.

“This sucks,” you said under your breath. The place itself didn’t suck, but you sure did at mini golf. You did this as a kid all the time - why was it so hard as an adult? Maybe because the clubs were much shorter now.

Except your six-foot best friend was hunched over the little club as he swung and he was still doing well.

“Looks like I’m winnin’,” Logan flashed a smug grin as he hit a hole in one.

“Ugh,” you groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration.

“Someone’s a sore loser,” he teased in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be you soon,” you pointed over to where you saw Scott, who was playing effortlessly.

“Alright, hey - it’s you and me, one on one. Forget Summers, I’m gonna be the one to kick your ass.”

As much as it probably shouldn't have, Logan’s voice made your heart flutter.

“Sure you are, big cat.”

His eyebrows furrowed when you said the nickname, one you used to tease him often.

“You think ‘roro and Jean are doin’ any better?” he asked, intending to ignore your inherent need to press every single one of his buttons.

You saw the both of them a little bit ahead of you, celebrating as Jean completed that part of the course.

“I’d say so,” you pursed your lips and leaned down to align your club with the ball.

“Your feet aren't right.”

You stood up straight and looked back at Logan.

“What?”

“Your feet are too close together,” he explained, coming closer to lightly knock his boot against the inside of your foot, “there.”

He stood back again and crossed his arms. You positioned yourself to hit the ball until he spoke again.

“You need to straighten your back.”

You chuckled and turned around.

“I thought golf was for yuppies, hm?” you mocked his earlier statement and he rolled his eyes.

“You want help or not?”

You genuinely contemplated his question before answering.

“Alright.”

He came closer behind you before you could even ask what he was doing. He blanketed his hands and arms over yours to help your aim, inadvertently pulling your back against his chest. He was warm and smelled like leather and pine. You were trying to listen to everything he was saying, but his voice so close to your ear made your head spin and turned your brain to mush.

There was a sudden flash of light and you heard something click. You instantly spotted Ororo with a digital camera in her hands and a wide smile on her face.

“You guys look so cute, I had to!”

Logan rolled his eyes and you shook your head, but you couldn’t see him bite down a smile behind you. If you didn’t ask for a copy of that picture later, he would.

You were so distracted by your thoughts that you almost forgot there was actually a point to him crowding you like this.

“Anyway, here,” he readjusted his hands over yours and pulled the club back a bit to swing, “ready?”

You nodded and he rested his head over your shoulder so he could see the ball and help you aim. You could feel his warm breath grazing your ear.

You felt like your legs were going to give out from underneath you.

The ball went rolling with a light tap and you watched it travel straight into the hole.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, excitedly raising your hands in the air when he let you go. For some reason, a part of you felt bold enough to lean up and kiss him on the cheek as a thank you, so you did.

He was lucky you couldn’t see the tips of his ears turn pink under the black light.

“With your help, I’ll be better than Tiger Woods in no time,” you joked.

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a shy smile, “I’m no professional trainer. Besides, it was all you.”

“You had your hands over mine and swung for me.”

“Again, all you.”

You laughed and motioned for him to follow you to the next hole in the course. The spot was next to a particularly grotesque monster sculpture.

“Ew,” Logan cringed, pointing at the towering neon statue, “he is ugly.”

“He looks like you,” you joked, gesturing to its face.

“Ha - ha,” he said flatly, “very funny.”

Logan shot you a mischievous smile and looked around the room, locking eyes with Ororo.

“ ‘roro! Pull out that camera!”

Before you could ask any questions, he was lifting you up with his arms around your waist and holding you up next to the statue.

“Logan! Put me down!” you tried to yell but couldn’t stop laughing, kicking your feet in an attempt to get loose and failing miserably. He held you tight - not enough to hurt, of course - and practically squished the side of his face against yours. Your cheeks felt hot from laughing so hard - or having Logan so close, you weren’t sure which.

Ororo, Jean and Scott were all chuckling while the picture was taken. The flash went off and you couldn’t help the wide smile on your face that unknowingly mirrored Logan’s.

“How cute are they?” Jean pouted and spoke under her breath, looking over Ororo’s shoulder at the digital camera screen.

“Lemme see!” you demanded as Logan set you down, jogging over to peek at the screen.

You knew you smiled as wide as you could, but seeing him smile so big that his eyes were nearly closed made your heart feel like it would burst.

“I didn’t even know you could smile,” Scott teased him, earning a glare from Logan.

“Hey, you remember six flags,” you reminded Scott, “he smiled when he threw you through that concession stand!”

“I was kind of too busy with my head stuck in the front of a popcorn sign to see it, but I believe you.”

“That was pretty funny,” Logan smiled to himself, “your hair smelled like butter for weeks.”

“Yeah, funny,” Scott rolled his eyes.

You continued the game and having Logan’s guide at the start increased your skill significantly. When you got down to the last hole, you were tied.

“This is it, big cat,” you told him, hands on your hips as he lined up his shot.

“If I win, you’ve gotta stop callin’ me that.”

“Hm,” you pretended to think for a moment, “nah, I don’t think I will.”

“You’re gonna have to in a minute,” he said in a cocky tone, pulling his club back to swing.

When he hit the ball, it rocketed across the carpeted floor and hit the little neon side wall, ricocheting it from one side to the other until it lost momentum. It was nowhere near the hole.

You clicked your tongue.

“Step aside, big cat,” you flashed him a smug grin and playfully nudged him with your elbow.

He groaned in frustration and crossed his arms, watching from behind as you lined up your shot. You hit the ball and watched it roll straight into the hole.

“Ooh, how does that feel, babe?”

You didn’t really mean to let the nickname slip - you called people ‘babe’ all the time - but you didn’t correct yourself either.

“Feels like I let you win, babe.”

Hearing it in his voice made you undeniably giddy.

“Sure, sure - whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

“Well, I can guarantee you one thing,” he started and you raised your eyebrows, “you’d never beat me in Mortal Kombat.”

He pointed into the arcade you’d seen before.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Who do you usually choose to fight?”

“Reptile. Who do you pick?”

“Kitana.”

“That’s..” Logan paused in thought, “a pretty good fight, actually.”

“I’m still gonna kick your ass.”

“Not at this one, kid.”

You were walking hurriedly on the neon carpet like you were a kid again, eager to feed money into rewardless games. You spotted the Mortal Kombat machine almost immediately and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket to get his attention. You made your way over to the brightly colored machine and put in some quarters, changing the screen to the select character menu.

“Ready to lose?” He asked and you playfully scoffed, eyes glued to the screen.

“Whatever, kitty. You still owe me a photo booth picture, so I’m the real winner today anyway.

“What’d I say about ‘kitty’?”

“That you hate it? Oh, yeah, I know, that’s why I use it.”

The round started and you and Logan stood shoulder to shoulder, mashing buttons and driving the joysticks in different directions. It was a two player machine - technically, you had enough room to put space between you, but neither of you actually wanted to.

The first round was over before you knew it, a bright ‘FATALITY’ written across your side of the screen.

“Now how did that feel, babe?”

Your face felt hot when he used the affectionate nickname and you hoped he was too focused on the second round to notice you were smiling like an idiot.

He was too, though.

“Oh, permanent nickname now?” you tried to play cool while you were still focused on the fight.

“Mhm,” he hummed, “get used to it, babe.”

You could most definitely get used to it.

“Okay, babe.”

You were still with your eyes glued to the screen, but in your mind, you were jumping around and doing cartwheels and screaming in victory.

So, you were amazed that you’d won the second round even while daydreaming about the guy beside you.

“Suck on that, Howlett,” you said smugly, grinning up at him.

“Ooh, so your trash talkin’ gets dirty, now?”

You only laughed in response.

“I think I prefer being called ‘babe’, though,” he told you, looking into your eyes in a way that made your hands sweat.

“Well,” you tried to calm your nerves, “you’re on, babe.”

The third round would determine who won and you were both locked in. The colored light from the screen painted your features as you vigorously slammed buttons. You watched your health bar steadily get lower, lower and lower before it was empty completely. The third and final end screen popped up and you let your head fall back in frustration.

“See, what’d I tell you? You never had a chance,” he teased.

“It’s Photo Booth time, anyway,” you said excitedly, grabbing his hand and attempting to pull him with you as you walked. He followed you, but it wasn’t actually because you were holding onto him - you couldn’t move him even if there were two of you - but because he’d really follow you anywhere if it meant he could hold your hand.

You passed a row of claw machines and halted in front of one of them when something inside caught your eye. Logan stopped behind you, confused as to what you were looking at.

Smack dab in the middle of the pile of stuffed creatures, you saw her.

A Halloween themed stuffed Hello Kitty, complete with a glow in the dark bow and bat patterned dress. Her small beady eyes stared back at you from behind the glass and you knew you had to have her. It was love at first sight.

“You see her?” you looked at Logan with a deadly serious expression and pressed your finger to the glass, “I’m not leaving without her. We’re coming back after the pictures.”

You found the Photo Booth and eagerly slid into the small space behind the curtain with Logan next to you. You looked up at the screen that showed the both of you and smiled wide. Maybe it was your own bias, but you thought you looked cute together.

You followed the instructions and the photo countdown began. You and Logan looked at each other in mild panic, realizing you didn’t know how to pose.

“Silly one?” you asked and you were both immediately moving to strike a pose before the photo was taken.

You were crossing your eyes with your tongue stuck out and he had his hands up in claws, forcing an underbite so that his lower teeth were covering his upper lip. When the picture was snapped and you looked up to see it, you laughed so hard at Logan’s face that you were nearly in tears. Your laughter was contagious and he was infected immediately, both of you starting to tear up from laughing so hard. You hadn't heard the camera timer over your laughing and when it made the click noise, you looked back at the screen.

You were leaned over Logan a little, your mouth open mid-laugh and your eyes closed. His smile was wide as could be, his cheeks actually red from laughing.

“That’s cute!”

You really didn’t mean to say it aloud but it slipped anyway and you pursed your lips.

“Very,” he said.

You felt the turn and twist of excitement in your stomach.

“Okay, next one,” you told him, “wanna do a regular picture?”

“Sure.”

Instantly, he slung his arm over your shoulder and leaned his head against yours while you kept your cheek-aching grin. He had a genuine smile, his eyes stuck on your face on the screen.

It felt like there was something there, something in the air between you, some kind of effect that made your longing for him almost unbearable.

The picture was snapped and you turned to look at him. He didn’t move his arm, instead keeping it hooked around you to pull you close. He looked back at you with a semi-serious expression while his eyes studied your features.

“What?” you laughed, small and nervous.

You were too entranced by him to hear the last photo countdown, but Logan heard it fine.

Three

You leaned in close to each other, almost nose to nose.

Two

He brought his other hand up to hold your face tenderly, swiping his thumb over your skin in an affectionate manner. His stare was intense in the best way possible. You felt like your heart was beating so hard it might give out.

One

He kissed you.

He closed the gap and you wanted to squeal in excitement, though you’d wait till you told Ororo to do that. His lips were soft like you always thought they’d be and you reveled in the overwhelming scent of him - leather and pine. You had your hands in the hair at the back of his head, as if you were holding him against you. It was like a dream come true, somehow everything you’d hoped it would be.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were speechless. He took your silence as rejection and awkwardly avoided your stare.

“I’m sorry, I - uh, I don’t know why I-“

You pulled him close to kiss him again and silence his rambling. You could feel him relax under your touch and you did the same, smiling against his lips when it finally set in that he had actually kissed you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for awhile now,” you admitted quietly when your lips disconnected.

“Me too.”

He was smirking like he’d beat you in another arcade game, proudly basking in the afterglow of victory. This time, you were the prize, one he never thought he’d win.

“We should probably get the pictures, huh?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah, uh, one more thing,” he replied and kissed you again, “okay, let’s go.”

You giggled and followed him out of the booth. He picked up the two strips of photos from the printer on the side of the booth and handed you one.

All of the pictures came out great, but you were really just focused on the last one. It was perfect. Not only did he kiss you, but now you had proof to remind yourself it wasn’t a dream.

“Hey, how’re you guys making out over here?”

You jumped at the sound of Jean's voice and blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“We weren’t making out.”

Jean tilted her head and looked between the two of you.

“Hm,” she hummed, “okay, then.”

Logan discreetly interlaced his fingers with yours when she turned away and tugged you further into the isles of games. He stopped in front of the row of claw machines again.

You spotted Hello Kitty and looked back and forth between her and Logan.

“I’m gonna get that stuffed cat,” he told you matter of factly, starting the game with a press of a button.

“She has a name, you know,” you informed him, trying to bite down another beaming smile just from the fact that he wanted to do that for you.

“Oh, does she?”

“Mhm, Hello Kitty.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” he sighed and you started to laugh, taking a deep breath before responding.

“No, no - that’s her name, she’s Hello Kitty.”

“Ah, I see,” he smiled while his eyes were glued to the metal claw of the machine, “Well, I’ll let you teach me all about her when I get her out.”

The metal claw lowered slowly and its talons gripped around Hello Kitty’s rotund head, but she slipped from its grasp the moment the claw started to rise.

“Rigged,” you said simply, “I never win at these.”

“No one does - I will, though.”

“Sure,” you giggled, watching him try once more. He got it but the stuffed cat, of course, slipped from the claws grasp.

“Third try, this is it. If I don’t get that damn thing, I’m gonna put a hole through the machine and get it myself.”

You were going to get that cat no matter what he had to do. It was undeniably sweet to see him so determined to do something for you, especially something as unserious as winning a stuffed animal.

You both watched anxiously as the claw lowered for the third and final time. The talons wrapped around Hello Kitty’s head once more and lifted her into the air. You gasped and watched in silent concentration as the claw took from one side of the box to the other, dropping her into the prize slot.

“Yeah!,” Logan exclaimed excitedly in his deep voice and you giggled at his enthusiasm.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat, “you’re welcome.”

You took Hello Kitty from the prize slot in the front of the machine and held her close to your chest.

“Thank you very much.”

He would’ve stayed at the damn machine all day to get that thing if he had to.

You all decide to leave a little while later, stepping into the parking lot, only to be met with light rain.

“Ugh,” you groaned, looking down at your shoes, “I just got these - if they get wet, they’re ruined.”

“I gotcha.”

Without a second to protest, Logan lifted you up with one arm under your knees and the other around your back. You giggled - something you couldn’t really help when his hands were on you - and grabbed ahold of the front of his jacket. You weren’t really sure why. You told yourself it was to keep him from dropping you, but you knew he never would, especially with how strong he was. Truthfully, it was probably just to keep him so close.

“Go carry your bride to the car,” Jean teased, nodding towards the vehicle parked not so far away.

Neither of you challenged the ‘bride’ comment.

As Logan carried you the short distance, his hand on your back reached your side so he could poke you, knowing it made you ticklish.

“Ah!,” you squealed and laughed, kicking your feet, “you’re gonna drop me if you do that!”

He did it again and you squirmed, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you from hitting the ground.

Neither of you realized that when you had kicked around, one of the photo strips fell from the pocket of your jacket. Scott saw and picked it up before it could get wet without a second thought, failing to even look at what it was.

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” Logan finally replied, “promise.”

“Promise?”

“Nope!”

He poked your side and you shrieked out of instinct, lightly hitting his chest with your open palm.

“Logan!”

“Okay, really, I’ll stop.”

He set you down and opened the car door for you. You slid in to escape from the rain and he did the same, everyone else piling in after. Scott was in the front seat and remembered that he picked up something of yours. He pulled the paper from his jacket pocket and turned it around to figure out what it actually was, turning in his seat to speak to you at the same time.

“Hey, one of you dropped this pa-“

He went silent and smiled, chuckling to himself.

“What?” Logan asked, but when you saw what was in Scott’s hands, you instantly knew what it was.

“Oh, that’s not - that’s..” you tried to explain but your voice trailed off as Jean peeked at the photo from the passenger seat and gasped.

“Finally!” she turned the picture to Ororo so she could see, “I told you!”

You and Logan both made the same confused expression, looking between the three of them.

“ ‘Told you’ what?” he asked Ororo, who sat beside the two of you.

She sighed.

“Jean said you’d get together in the next month. I said it would be two months, so - she told me so.”

You and Logan were both still very confused.

“So you knew I liked him?” you asked Jean blatantly, but Logan spoke first.

“You liked me this whole time?”

“Yeah,” you felt bashful, “of course I did.”

“I liked you this whole time, though.”

“You did?”

“Alright, we get that you like each other,” Scott interrupted with a huff, “is there anything else you guys want to tell us?”

You were silent but Logan spoke again after a minute.

“Yeah, all the quarters I used in the arcade were yours.”

Scott was visibly grinding his teeth.

“Alright,” he turned back around and started the car, “we’re going home.”

Logan wrapped his arm around your shoulder like he did in the photo booth, lovingly pulling you into him so you could rest your head on him.

You stayed like that the entire ride home, stuffed Hello Kitty tucked in your arms.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ⭑꒷꒦

A/N: If you made it this far ily! and I wanted to say I'm absolutely still working on requests, I just take a long time to write </3

Anyway pls interact if you enjoyed and follow me 4 more!

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #fluff

394 notes · View notes