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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months ago

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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.

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

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

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

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kurooh · 8 months ago

Text

LIGHTS, CAMERAS, ACTION.

🎬 includes: aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, & kaminark denki; + kirishima eijirō cameo!

🎬 warnings: 18+ content, fem! reader, pornstar & quirkless au, oral [m&f giving/receiving], vibrators, lots of fucking, threesome, orgasm torture but gentle, lingerie, shower sex, slight name calling (“slut”). not proofread so some parts may sound as though they were written by a degenerate

🎬 notes: here is THEE fabled pornstar au. hero names -> pornstar names. i had so much fun writing this — it may be the new crowning jewel of my blog.. after hours of writing, i hope you all enjoy! <3

DEKU.

☆ known as UA studios’ sweetheart, he has a wild side that viewers go crazy for! his most successful videos involve pussy eating, anal sex, food play, and ads for sex toys/clothing.

“alright,” the director, iida, says to you, “have you reviewed the script? do you understand our requirements?” a friendly makeup artist dusts a hint of blush across your cheeks, and smiles at her work. the makeup look is balanced between noticeable and natural — meant to compliment the lingerie adorning your body beneath your short dress.

“yes, i’ve reviewed it. no fake moans, of course.”

“that’s right. everything must be completely natural. we’re trying to sell pleasure, good sex, and lingerie.”

iida smiles at you, and looks around at the staff waiting for his order. “everyone, please get into position! deku, y/n, remember, you can say cut at any time.”

the cameramen assemble behind their equipment, and iida sits in his chair, script packet in hand. you and deku walk towards the bedroom setup, standing behind the door, preparing to walk on set. “action!”

deku pulls you into his arms, kissing you hard while one of his hands yanks at the door handle. he rams into it with his shoulder, and the both of you are suddenly beneath the warm set lights looking down into the cozy bedroom. you moan, tipping your head back slightly to suck on one of his soft lips, earning a desperate groan from him. when he pushes his hips against yours, your breath catches in your throat when his clothed cock presses against your thinly covered pelvis. part of you didn’t expect him to be this aroused, considering the amount of women he’s been with. you pull back gently, lines from the script flashing in your mind. “i need you so badly, deku.”

deku knows it’s a script, but goddamn do you sound convincing — like you truly want him more than anything. he kisses at your neck, arms wrapped around you, and tugs you with him down onto the bed. now you’re on top of him, in your see-through dress, grinding down on his pelvis and cock desperately. groaning, he flips the two of you over and cages you beneath him with his arms and chest. according to the script, one of his hands should be wandering under your dress and caressing whatever he can touch, but he stares at you instead, enamored with how beautiful you look. he kisses you one last time, and slips off your dress, his eyes going wide at the lacy lingerie adorning your body.

squirming under his gaze, you let your legs fall open, and he leans forward to kiss down your body, starting at your collarbone. he yanks at your bra straps, struggling to get the damn thing off you.

“sit up for me, baby.” deku murmurs, undoing the clasps on your back swiftly and laying you back down on the duvet once the bra’s off. going off script again, he squeezes your tits and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “oh, you’re so fucking beautiful.” your face warms and your back arches off the bed, pressing your tits into his face. his large, scarred hands grasp your tits eagerly, and more wetness pools in the underwear you’re supposed to be selling.

your hips jerk and twist beneath and against his own, and he moans loudly, desperately. deku finally pulls away from your tits, and focuses his attention on your clothed pussy. you’ve completely wet the lacy underwear through and through, causing it to become skin tight against your pussy; your wet folds are now extra defined.

“what a pretty pussy,” deku gasps, slipping his fingers into the crotch part of the underwear and yanking it to the side, exposing your fluttering cunt. with the script and its lines completely abandoned, you and deku make your own ad — “please, deku, wanna cum for you.”

breathlessly, he grabs your hips and tugs your pussy into his face, your clit bumping against his nose. now propped up against the pillows and fully naked, you watch the way he jerks his hips into the bed through lidded eyes. the sight of his desperation adds to your arousal, and you let out a whimper when he easily slips two fingers into you. deku begins a fast, rough pace with his fingers, pumping them in and out of you mercilessly. he takes your clit between his lips and sucks, switching between sucking and licking. you’re blissed out, eyes rolled back and body trembling — all you can hear are deku’s moans and the squelches your pussy makes from his fingers.

“oh, deku,” the thought that your throat will be sore from how loud you are tomorrow flashes through your mind briefly, “please don’t stop!”

he grips you tighter, pushes his face into your pussy more, trying to get impossibly closer to you. his hips quicken against the bed, his pants slipping off him. wait, when had he undone them?

you muffle a scream by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth when he starts to curl his fingers inside you, his large fingers hitting the right spots deep inside you and stretching you out. “pleasepleaseplease,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, you’re so far gone. “deku, don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

suddenly, your hips buck into his face and there are hot sparks inside of your body, all over you. something in your pussy snaps, and you squirt all over him helplessly. the duvet is splashed, and you even get some on your belly and pelvis. deku takes most of your cum right in the face, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open.

shaking, you use your fingers to collect some of the liquid on your pelvis, and then press them into his open mouth. he moans, sucking on your fingers, his own body shaking. you lean forward slightly, eyes widening when you see a very noticeable wet spot on the front of his boxers, and some dampness on the duvet beneath him. his face is completely wet with your slick and squirt, and you cup his cheeks in your hands and kiss him, moaning when you taste yourself.

you both sit like that in silence, panting and coming down from your highs. until you both turn to iida and the cameramen, who look very surprised. he clears his throat. “we said cut a while ago.”

DYNAMIGHT.

☆ notorious for his rough demeanor and handling of co-stars, UA studios’ dynamight is popular internationally. his close friendship with fellow star red riot is revered; very occasionally, they collaborate together.

“okay, is everyone situated?” the director, iida asks, taking a step back to look over the setup. a stage crew member adds a pillow behind red riot, and smooths out the crimson couch cushion.

“hurry up and start fuckin’ filming.” dynamight holds the base of his cock tightly, trying to not lose his erection. you’re positioned between him and red riot, tits out, legs spread and sitting lazily. red riot sits behind you, a ring around the base of his cock, squeezing hard enough for a bit of precum to sit atop the head of his cock.

“bakugo!” he hisses, “no need to be so rude to them. i’m sorry for him, everyone.” typically, the rule is to only call co-stars by their porn names, to protect each other’s identities, but the three of you are friends outside of the industry, so none of you follow that rule with each other.

“thank you, kirishima.” iida glances at bakugo pointedly, then turns to sit in his director’s chair. he holds the script packet in his hand, and the clapperboard in the other. “action!” the cameras begin rolling at the clap.

immediately, bakugo grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss, nipping at your lips while kirishima takes one of your nipples into his mouth and starts to suck. you moan against bakugo’s lips, your left hand sliding from your side up and into kirishima’s soft red hair, and you push his head into your chest further. at your right thigh, you feel bakugo’s cock hardening, ready for your attention. your hand wraps around it, thumb rubbing at the sensitive spot below his tip, and he groans, glaring at how kirishima’s taking up most of your focus. he leans over, and threads his fingers through his hair and tugs him right off your chest.

“oi! d’you want her pussy or her mouth?” kirishima’s face flushes, and he glances towards your pelvis silently.

“get on your hands and knees.” bakugo’s command leaves no room for hesitation, and you do exactly what he tells you. kirishima positions himself on his stomach, and places each of his hands on your ass cheeks. while bakugo gestures for you to open your mouth, kirishima presses his face into your pussy, his tongue dragging up and down your slit and collecting all your wetness. his fingers slip inside you, and your eyes fall shut for a moment when he matches bakugo’s pace.

you moan loudly, wiggling your ass back onto kirishima’s face, your mouth opening for bakugo’s large cock. “take it, princess.” he says, using a rare nickname. he exhales shakily once his tip passes between your lips, and pushes all the way in, smirking when you choke loudly.

slowly, he pistons his cock in and out of your mouth, speeding up when he hears you moan. you gasp around his cock when kirishima laps at your clit, his tongue silky soft against you. “red—! don’t stop.” your plea is muffled on bakugo’s cock, and he snaps his hips into your mouth faster when he hears you. bakugo groans loudly when he looks over your body, making eye contact with kirishima.

kirishima’s hands move from your ass cheeks to your hips, and he tugs you closer to him, licking your clit harder. “…taste so sweet,” he moans softly, and you clench on his fingers, jerking your hips back. the faster you cum, the faster he gets to have his way with you when he fucks you. gasping, your eyes travel from bakugo’s pelvis, up his sculpted body, to his face; his brows are knitted in concentration to not cum, and his jaw is slack from the pleasure.

“gonna cum,” you whine, your voice likely unheard over the sounds of bakugo’s groans and your throat being fucked. kirishima hears you, however, and licks your clit through your orgasm. he rises to his knees, uses his hands to spread your ass cheeks, and while you’re still twitching from cumming, he pushes his tip into you. then he snaps his hips forward, his cock sliding all the way inside you and bottoming out.

you gasp loudly, tears forming in your eyes and you stare into bakugo’s eyes. however, he and kirishima exchange a glance, and kirishima starts to fuck you hard and deep, and bakugo matches his pace. choking, you let out a sob at the way you’re being absolutely pounded from both ends. kirishima slaps your ass hard, and tosses his head back in bliss.

“fuck, i needed this. dynamight, should we cover her in cum or fill her up?”

“fill her up, red,” bakugo groans, desperately fighting off his orgasm, “and fuck her harder, for god’s sake.”

one of kirishima’s hands wanders to the small of your back, and he presses down slightly, keeping the both of you steady. the other hand snakes beneath your belly, and presses hard on your lower stomach, right above your pelvis. then, he slams his hips into you with much more gusto, his sounds reverberating throughout the studio. spit drips from your lips and down your chin, and tears flow freely down your face. kirishima’s thick cock is so deep inside you, and you’re so full of pressure you feel like you might explode. and bakugo — god, his cock’s stuffing your throat to its limit, and all you can think about is how much you need their cum.

you pull back off bakugo’s cock and bury your face in the couch cushions below you, sobbing as you throw your ass back onto kirishima. when you come back up, gasping, you say to both of them, begging, “fill me up and make me yours.” then you put all of your weight on your knees, and lift your arms to wrap them around bakugo’s waist, tugging him and his sexy adonis belt into your face. your mouth opens, welcoming his cock again, and with the change of position, he’s able to pound your mouth deeply enough for your nose to hit his pelvis.

with kirishima’s balls smacking into your clit and his cock pounding you so well, plus the added pressure on your lower belly, you find yourself cumming a second time, bakugo’s cock absorbing your loud, whiny moans. that one orgasm causes some sort of chain reaction — as kirishima fucks you through it, you feel another building, then crescendoing just as quickly as it came. but this one is different than the orgasms that preceded it; it feels so much stronger, and your pussy sounds really wet.

bakugo’s cock tightens and you know he can’t hold it back anymore. “shit, i’m so close.”

kirishima is the loudest of the three of you, his voice shaking and wavering as he registers that the three of you are all about to cum at the same time. “fuckfuckfuck, cumming, cum—”

“‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna—”

bakugo cups the back of your head harshly, pushing you into his pelvis as he fills up your mouth with an uncharacteristic whimper that he could care less about quieting. your pussy clenches like a vice, and you squirt, spraying kirishima’s abs and pelvis with your cum. the redhead pushes as deep as he can inside you when he fills you up, and whines as he fucks you through it, his cock screaming with overstimulation. bakugo does the same, overstimulating himself too, and they both collapse towards each other, the three of you knocked out in a pile.

“cut!” iida shouts, and the crew rushes to grab cleanup supplies.

SHŌTŌ.

☆ one of UA studios’ most popular stars, shōtō is the audience’s dream fuck. men and women alike go wild over his simple yet sinful roleplay videos, moans, physique, and gentle yet firm treatment of his co-stars.

“now, we’ve already taken most of the footage for the rest of the film, so the shower scene will wrap this up.” director iida eyes both you and shoto earnestly, then adjusts his glasses. “i’d prefer to shoot this in one take, since it’s the end of the day and i’m sure everyone is raring to clock out.”

“of course, i understand,” you nod, and shoto says, “that’s right.”

“great! you’ve read over the script well, yes?”

the two of you nod silently; director iida quickly rushes over to his chair and snatches the clapperboard from his assistant with a whispered thank you. shoto steps out of the bathroom set, and walks into the living room area. you shed your robe and place it on a hanger, then step into the shower, drawing the curtain closed behind you. then, you turn on the water and wait.

“action!”

having already shot the rest of the footage prior to the shower scene, there’s no need to waste any time. squeezing a bit of softly scented body wash onto your hands, you lather it up until it becomes bubbly, then you rub it all over your torso, making sure to get plenty of suds onto your tits. scanning the shower for your face wash, you groan audibly when you realize it was misplaced elsewhere in your shared apartment.

“sho!” you call loudly, your heart fluttering at the thought of what’s coming next. “could you get my face wash, please?”

you continue washing your body, bubbles sliding from your skin to the floor. you hear faint footsteps in the hallway, then the door opens and shoto says from behind the curtain, “here’s your face wash, it was in the kitchen, by the sink.”

“thank you!” he’s been watching your silhouette move on the other side of the flowery curtain, face visibly warming at the thought of you being completely naked, this close to him. he’s still holding onto the face wash, now looking at your used panties and shorts on the counter. his eyes are honing in on the damp spot in the middle of your panties, the way it looks just a bit too sticky to be regular discharge — you were horny today, weren’t you?

fuck, all he can think about is stealing your panties… wrapping them around his cock and using them to help him jerk off to you. the camera zooms in on his hands when he allows himself to pick up your panties, then on his mouth when he brings them to his lips and licks away your slick.

“sho, my face wash?” you ask, sounding confused. your (fake) roommate tosses the panties down, his cock now rock hard in his sweats.

“right, i’m so sorry.” not thinking straight, he snatches the fabric of the shower curtain and its lining and yanks it to the side, exposing you. you, his pretty little roommate, with suds all over her tits, tiny bubbles caught in the fine hairs at your pelvis (yes, he looked. and for a rather long time). you’re surprised, shock and shyness and embarrassment written all over your face, but you don’t dare to close the shower curtain and kick him out of the bathroom.

after all, you’d hoped something like this would happen.

following the script, he’s the first to look away as he hands you the face wash. the curtain falls from his grasp; you notice the outline of his cock in his sweats, and he acts as though he’s about to walk away, off to jerk his cock somewhere in his room.

“sho,” your tone is flirtatious, yet oh so needy as you set the face wash down and open the curtain further. “if you don’t get the hell in here and fuck me right now, i swear i’ll—”

before you know it, his clothes are in a messy pile on the floor, and his cock is bobbing as he gets into the shower with you. your back hits cool tiles and yet all you feel is warmth when shoto kisses you, your heart starting to race as his pelvis meets yours. shoto pulls you off the tiles and closer into his chest, groaning quietly at your soapy tits and hard nipples.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve needed this,” he chokes out, squeezing your tits in his hand. “how i’ve always been waiting for this.”

so far, the script is halfway through. “oh yeah?” you reply breathlessly, “you’re talkin’ like i haven’t been waiting either.”

“waiting for you to—ah!—fill me up and fuck me u-until i can’t stand.” your body and voice shake as his fingers slip between your thighs, the pads of his fingertips grazing your clit and dipping into your soaked slit.

“you’re ready, aren’t you, babygirl?” the nickname rolls off his tongue easily, “prepped yourself before this shower, yes?”

“yes, shoto.”

“what a slut.”

your face burns when you moan involuntarily, hips twisting as he pulls away his fingers. he licks away your wetness, slaps your ass, and whispers heavily, “bend over for me.”

and you do, suds washing off your back since you’re in the stream of the water, both hands planted firmly against the wall. as shoto positions himself behind you, he takes off the shower head; the camera zooms in on your sticky folds, your cunt fluttering at what’s to come. you’d heard privately from some of shoto’s last co-stars, and rumors from all around the studio — his cock was big, and he knew how to use it to make whoever he was with scream. additionally you’d seen the videos online, clips of him stretching out so many women, their screams of pleasure heard in each.

“fuck!” a shockwave of pleasure rushes through you and you register that shoto’s got the shower head aimed at your clit, and the settings are up high. he slaps your ass hard, and your legs spread slightly. grabbing the base of his cock firmly, he guides his tip between your folds, and pushes in gently. you moan, pushing your ass towards him, desperately wanting his full length. “so fucking eager, huh?” he teases, using his free hand to grip your hip firmly; he draws his hips back, then slams all the way inside you, his cock stretching you close to your limits.

you moan sharply, tears burning in your eyes almost immediately. “g-god, you’re perfect,” he hisses, pressing the shower head closer to you, already pounding you hard.

“isn’t this better than taking my panties?” you ask boldly, breathlessly.

“isn’t this better than jerking off in your room, listening to me and my hookups fuck?” he questions you smoothly, and your attitude falls away when the head of his cock slams right into your g-spot.

“oh! r-right there, sho, please.”

“i want to hear you,” he insists, “i want to hear you begging f’me.”

“fuck me hard,” you gasp, tears flowing down your cheeks just as the suds on your tits do. “fuck me, and cum inside me, and u-use me how you want to!”

the script is halfway through, as is the scene, but you don’t want him to stop. the camera zooms in on where you’re connected to him, his cock wet with your stringy slick as he snaps himself in and out of your creamy pussy.

“i will, i will,” he soothes you, his hand slipping and pressing the shower head flush again your clit. with the settings as high as they are, the water proves to be too much, and you find yourself letting out a scream.

“sho—oh! shoto, i’m cumming—”

he fucks you through your orgasm, his head lolling back as he gasps, beginning to struggle to hold his own back. your body shakes as he continues with his ruthless pounding; you feel dizzy when his cock hits the deepest spots inside of you. the shower head is still at your clit, overstimulating you, and even though your pussy is screaming, you don’t remove it.

“fill me up, pleasepleaseplease— i need your cum more than anything else!”

only one orgasm and you’re already feeling dumb on his cock, pussy clenching with desperation as his cock twitches inside you.

shoto pictures the panties outside of the shower that he’d had on his face, taking in your scent and taste. he remembers the times he’d heard you indulging in your own pleasure, messing around with your fingers, hoping that you’d one day be full of cock. his cock. your roommate used to toss and turn in his bed before he’d get out the lotion and open your instagram.

(clips will be edited into the current scene by director iida and the rest of the crew.)

“oh god, fuck— i’m gonna fill you up, and i-i don’t want you to wash it out. i want you to be dripping when you come back and i fuck you again.”

his part of the script is over, and it’s now your turn to nod desperately, then beg him for his cum like a good slut, for the sake of the film— but you’re not acting like he is.

with a deep, gasping groan, shoto unloads inside of you, his cock twitching as he fills you to the brim, some cum leaking out of the sides of your pussy. he collects it on his fingers, and puts the shower head away, then pushes his fingers into your mouth.

“cut! that was excellent, the two of you! we won’t be needing to do another take.” director iida rushes up to you with praises, and shoto fucks into you shallowly, causing you to gasp.

“let’s meet in my office sometime later,” shoto offers with a smile, “to review the footage.”

CHARGEBOLT.

☆ sponsored by many sex toy companies, large and small, UA studios’ chargebolt is recognized by the way he wields his large collection of vibrators! the audience never knows what to expect from him, besides overstimulation of either himself, or his co-star.

after hours, chargebolt—denki, your best friend from UA studios— relaxes with you in your shared apartment and watches movies with you on the couch. occasionally, he’ll start his camboy streams in his bedroom, but he’s usually by himself, until tonight.

as he empties a box of vibrators beside his clothed lap, his phone buzzes as more of his fans join his livestream and leave comments. “guys, slow down,” he whines, struggling to read all the comments; his face changes when he reads a certain comment. “WHAT!? WHO JUST TOLD ME TO BEND OVER AND GET OILED UP??” after a pause, he huffs, “guys, i’m so close to making you all pay to join these lives.”

before denki can start talking to his audience again, the door opens rather loudly and he startles, his body jerking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, eyes moving from his phone and then to his own slowly. your hand finds its place on your hip, and you lean against the door frame, an eyebrow raised.

denki warms, his mouth suddenly dry. “oh.. i’m on a live stream.”

“so you’re a pornstar in the day, and a camboy in the night?” you chuckle ruefully, pushing off the door frame and walking towards him.

“well, yeah,” he forces himself to look away from his phone, and keep himself focused on you, standing over him.

chargeboltsballs — he has a gf ??

therockst4r — YOOO WHO IS SHE

sumumiya — istg if he doesnt fuck her

tipsnwhips — OMG SHE SOUNDS HOT ASF

BBYGIRLLL DONATED $20 AND SAID “invite her on”

“aren’t they curious?” you ask with a giggle, reading some of the comments.

he looks up at you, his face bright red. he can’t believe he’s introducing his camboy audience to his best friend with benefits, that he secretly has a crush on. at this point, you might as well be his girlfriend. “uh,” denki struggles to get over the embarrassment and shyness, “would you mind joining the stream with me?”

“sure,” you sit down cross legged beside him, wearing only a thin pajama top and short shorts. “i’ve actually never been on a stream before, what do we do?”

“we can answer and ask questions, or we can see what people ask of us. i typically do what people ask for donations, or if everyone is in favor of an idea. and there are rules that everyone must follow in here, so nothing bad will be suggested.”

you read a comment, laughing lightly. “no, i’m not his girlfriend. we’re best friends.”

denki notices how easily you laugh it off, and wishes he could find a way to tell you how he really feels. luckily, a commenter comes to the rescue.

Y/NSTITTY DONATED $25 AND SAID “wtf are y’all waiting for?? show us what being fwbs is like! :)”

you and denki scoot away from the camera, and closer to each other — you cup his jaw in your hand and pull him into a smoldering kiss, and he moans desperately, pressing himself closer to you. his hand lands on your back, fingers tugging at the hem of your thin pajama top. meanwhile, your hands insistently yank at the elastic waistband of his sweats.

with half lidded eyes, your lips part, still connected by a thin string of your shared saliva. now on your knees, you quickly rid yourself of your pajama top, and then drag his sweatpants down his legs. you remain in your underwear and shorts; he still has his shirt and boxers.

face hot and chest heaving, you glance towards the phone, which is exploding with comments that are moving far too quickly to read. “what next?” you both ask at the same time, his eyes on your tits.

unanimously, the comments are all asking for him to use his vibrators on you. some request that he tortures you with orgasms, others mention that you should be edged. in your UA studios videos, edging is one of your specialties.

hungrily, you fling yourself into his chest, biting and sucking at his neck. your hands pull his cock free from his boxers, which are wet with precum — he moans against your skin, shaking with need. “gonna torture me, hmm?” sloppily, you rub at his cock, thumb circling the wet head deliciously.

“lay back, babe,” denki finds himself saying, his confident persona back again. “gonna set you up here.”

the comments explode with celebration, excited for what’ll come next. you lay back onto the generous amount of towels he has set up, tugging off your shorts and underwear, ass looking soft and oh so delectable.

denki spreads your legs and spins you from your vertical position to a horizontal one, showing off your wet pussy. with some silky restraints, he secures a wand to your left thigh, the head of the vibrator nudging your clit. he repeats the same with your right thigh, your clit now trapped between two vibrators. in all your time being friends with benefits, he’s never used two vibrators on you at once.

“get on your knees,” he says, his cock bobbing as he stands. with greed that unmatches your excitement in your films or clips, you take his cock into your throat, hands rising to his hips to pull him towards your face. immediately, denki finds himself moaning, one hand tangling in your hair and pushing your head down further; his other hand grasps a small black remote that blinks with light.

chargeboltsballs — damn i’ve never seen her suck dick like that

coconutsss — they have chemistry fr.

“fuck, you f-feel so good,” denki tosses his head back, turning on both vibrators. your hips jerk as he adjusts them to a low-medium setting, the vibrations hitting your clit and flowing through your body like waves.

he tugs you in, your nose pressing into the finely groomed blonde hairs of his pelvis. you moan loudly, your eyes closing as you lean into the sensations of the vibrators. when they open, denki’s looking down at you with a flushed face and eyes full of desire.

you slurp down his cock, developing a fast rhythm so good he bites his cheeks and prays for the strength to hold back his load. he turns up the vibrators, easily switching them to the maximum strength.

you choke on his length, eyes watering as you stare into his own, your hips jerking into thin air. still, you don’t let this newfound pleasure interfere with your cock sucking — you feel his cock tighten a few times, then realize he’s holding himself back.

“let me fuck your throat,” he murmurs, gently pushing you back so you’ll rest on your knees, soaking in more of the sensation from the vibrators. you moan loudly, “c-chargebolt!” even though you really mean to say his name.

smiling faintly, he presses his cock into your open mouth and cups the back of your head roughly. in and out, he fucks into your mouth, his head falling back every time his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag, tightening around him. between your legs, both vibrators are covered in your slick, dripping onto the floor. your back stiffens when the head of his cock hits a spot that’s extra deep in your throat, and then you can’t take the vibrators any more.

with a desperate whine, you cum hard, your pussy spasming and dripping with more of your juices. tears roll down your cheeks when he keeps fucking your mouth, his pace slowing with a few gasps. the vibrators continue, pushing you through your sensitivity, and you quickly orgasm again, nearly falling onto your back.

denki pulls his cock from your mouth, and instructs you to position yourself in front of the phone. “get on your forearms and knees. i want your face down and your ass up, babe.”

“y-yes!” you agree, reading some of the comments in hopes that they’ll help you ignore the vibrators.

juicybaby6 — he’s so lucky tf!!

grndmsters — wonder how many times she’ll cum… betting 6 times

CHARGEISMYMAN DONATED $10 AND SAID “fuck her brains out bro 🫡”

denki laughs, “will do!” and pushes into your vibrating pussy, groaning loudly at the feeling. you’re so tight around him, so wet and hot — and you’re also vibrating, which feels extra nice on his cock.

“oh, fuck!” you press your face into a towel, nearly squealing when he develops a decent pace, feeling overwhelmed. “i—i’m so sensitive, i don’t think i can take it.”

“don’t worry, babe,” denki coos affectionately, “you’ll be perfectly fine.” after the words leave him, he immediately starts to pound you, hand landing sharply against your ass.

you gasp, pushing your ass closer to his cock, body shaking with effort as you hold yourself up. “i—i’m gonna cum again, please—” you want to beg him to turn off the vibrators, but you feel too fucking good to stop. with a cry, you cum again, statin to sob when the vibrations continue.

denki fucks your puffy pussy mercilessly, groaning loudly. “babe,” he gasps, “i’m gonna —fuck!—cum soon, p-please cum with me!”

just the sounds of his moans have you cumming for a third time. feeling dizzy, you muster out an “mhm, mhm, i’ll try” as the vibrations begin to feel both pleasureful and painful.

crying, you stare right into the phone at your best friend behind you, at how he’s completely unraveling. comments flood in, thirsting over the both of you and how fucked out you look. denki whines loudly, “oh, i’m cumming— with me, cum with me baby!”

a scream rips from your throat as he cums inside you, filling you up to the brim and then some. your fourth orgasm of the night hits you like a train, and all you cry out, “denki!” as your pussy spasms on his cock, feeling a little raw from the vibrators but oh so satisfied. without wasting time, denki rips the tied vibrators from you; they hit the floor loudly, absolutely soaked.

he pulls out for a second and then flips you over and lays you down, pushes back in, and he fucks you until his cum spills out of you, one of his favorite sights. the comments explode with questions and surprise, some pointing out your accidental reveal of denki’s true name during your orgasm.

he slumps on top of you, face buried in your neck, pecking at your sweaty skin gently. “thank you for joining the stream tonight.. i really had a lot of fun.”

“i can only hope i’ll be invited to join more,” you laugh, brushing his hair away from his face.

“are you kidding me? of course!” denki exclaims, nuzzling into your neck now.

the reveal of denki’s name spreads like wildfire online, and you both wake up cuddling to find that you’ve both received angry texts from your managers.

#kurooh #HAPPY 1K !!#maybe do a pt 2 with hawks & others?#mha smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #deku smut #deku x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #denki x reader #denki smut

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nightpool · 8 months ago

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If you are an auditor, and you call up the chief financial officer of the company you are auditing and ask “hey when is a convenient time for me to come to your office to review the books,” and he replies “no, no office, parking lot,” and you say “okay I’ll drive to your office and you’ll come down—” and he says “oh no, not our parking lot, a different parking lot,” and you meet him in a parking lot 40 miles from his office, and he hands you printouts of the financial statements and drives away, how should you begin your audit? Which of the financial statements is most likely to contain red flags or discrepancies to be addressed? I feel like the answer is “the parking lot”? If I were auditing those financial statements, most of my questions would not be about technical accounting matters but “why are we meeting in a parking lot again?”

Here is a story about the CFO of the Detroit Riverfront Conservancy, William Smith, who was arrested last week for allegedly stealing $40 million from the nonprofit:

"Mr. Smith’s grip on the nonprofit’s finances was so tight that even the nonprofit’s accountant, charged with tracking spending, could not log into one of the group’s bank accounts. Only Mr. Smith had the password. He gave her the bank statements on paper and met her only four times a year, in the parking lot of a Honey Baked Ham store 40 miles from the office. […]

"Brian Mittendorf, a professor who studies nonprofit accounting at Ohio State University, said that the conservancy’s official documents show that it took steps to safeguard its finances — including oversight from its board of directors and annual audits.

"‘All these things sound as if it’s an organization with a pretty robust review in place. On the other hand, only one person can access the money, and provides paper copies in a Honey Baked Ham parking lot?’ Mr. Mittendorf said. ‘Those sound like the opposite of a robust governance mechanism.’"

As it happens, Smith allegedly altered the bank statements by “[removing] the payments to himself and [replacing] them with fake payments to other vendors.” I still don’t fully understand the parking lot, though? Like you can meet the accountant in your office to hand over the doctored paper financial statements; just unplug your computer first. I just feel like meeting in the parking lot sends a pretty strong message of “I AM DOING CRIME” that you might want to avoid, if you are doing crime.

#your stock options look gnc af

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crownofgildedlilies · 2 months ago

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fake dating

pairing: midoriya x reader

summary: Izuku really needs a favor.

wc: 2.8k

event masterlist

You probably should have just said no.

Though it was so incredibly hard to deny Izuku of anything, it wasn’t impossible. Difficult beyond belief, but not impossible. You only had yourself to blame, really, when you agreed to his request. You even had a few days to back out, but a part of you just couldn’t get yourself to let him down.

But really, you wished you didn’t sign up to pretend to be Izuku’s partner when all you wanted was for it to be real.

“Are you ready?”

No, you weren’t, but you couldn’t exactly tell Izuku the truth as you stood outside his family home, second away from attempting to convince everyone that you were dating. The very thought made you flush.

“Wait, hold on,” You hesitated, grabbing his arm gently to stop him from opening the doorway. He followed your direction immediately, checking you once over to make sure you were alright. Just another reason why you were hopelessly in love with your friend—he was just so good. “Do you remember the backstory?”

“Yeah, do you? I wrote it all down if you need to review.” He nodded, and the fact that he had taken notes on your fake relationship made a grin form on your lips.

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You trailed off, dropping your gaze from him in an effort to make the heat in your cheeks disappear. “Will your mom be suspicious if we aren’t physically affectionate? We never really talked about that.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched the color rise up Izuku’s neck and take over his features.

“I don’t think so? W-we could hold hands, but only if you want!” He hurried to ensure you were comfortable, just like he had from the moment his plan was brought up. He was just as nervous as you were, only you were doing a better job at hiding it.

Barely.

“Okay, yeah.” You agreed, sliding the hand that was holding his arm down until it wrapped around his own. You could feel the raised skin from his scars under the pads of your fingers. Subconsciously, you brushed your thumb over the worst of the damage on the back of his hand.

“S-sorry about my scars. I know they’re weird.” He apologized, not able to look at you. Frowning, you squeezed his hand once in silent reprimand. He had led you to the front door and was seconds away from letting you into his childhood home, but you couldn’t let him continue on thinking you thought his scars were weird.

“They’re not.” You murmured as he pushed the door open, sounds and smells of dinner cooking alongside lively conversation washed over the two of you and almost drowned out your words. “I don’t think so, at least.”

True to his nature, Izuku flushed at your words, but was kept from responding as none other than the Inko Midoriya raced towards the sound of the front door opening to sweep her son up into a massive hug. Izuku didn’t let go of your hand as he hugged his mother back, an action you both didn’t miss and felt incredibly endeared by.

“Mom,” Izuku started, gesturing towards you with his free hand when he finally let his mother go. “This is—”

“I know who this is.” Inko interrupted, pulling you into a hug just as tight as the one meant for your son. Instantly, you felt a wave of guilt for lying to this woman about the truth of your relationship with her son. Izuku hadn’t said anything about it, but you knew that you’d have to fake break up after the dinner. You couldn’t exactly fake date forever. “You’ve talked about them for weeks! I’m so glad to finally meet you, dear. I’ve been begging Izuku to bring you over.”

“Mom,”

“I’m glad I could make it,” Overtop Izuku’s whine, you managed to force the words out despite how flustered you were at discovering Izuku—apparently—talked about you to his mother. So much so, that she had been asking about meeting you.

You were so screwed.

“The food’s almost ready. Everyone is in the other room.” Inko started herding you and Izuku towards the sound of chattering. He kept his hand clasped around yours, even as his mother nudged him around, but you couldn’t help but realize that he was doing everything in his power to avoid looking directly at you.

Was he embarrassed? The whole point of the evening was to pretend that the two of you were dating to get his mother to give him some space on the matter, so why would he care that she believed your ruse?

“Go socialize, you two!” Inko gave you one final push into the sitting room, already dotted with Izuku’s various aunties and other relatives. You hadn’t expected to recognize anyone, which is why you were totally surprised when you met a set of very familiar red eyes.

“No shit. You actually went through with it.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku’s panicked voice filled the silence left by Bakugou’s crude and cryptic comment. All of the aunties in the room paused to glare at him, and Bakugou’s mother cuffed the back of his head in reprimand.

This was bad. Bakugou was the only one who knew about your crush on Izuku. It wasn’t that you had told him, but more so that he confronted you about your feelings one sparring session and you panicked too fast to deny it. Since he was the only one who knew, you had thought it was safe to mention your fake dating plan to him.

Now, you were certain you were going to regret it.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, though you knew that the Bakugous and Mrs. Midoriya had been friends since the boys were in preschool. You just didn’t know why he had to be there. If it had been a different situation, you would have laughed at the sight of Bakugou sitting on Mrs. Midoriya’s small couch with neighborhood aunties surrounding him on all sides. But he was grinning far too smugly for you to consider the possibility that he would keep your secret.

“I was invited,” Bakugou shrugged nonchalantly, then dropped his attention down to your hand wrapped around Izuku’s, and you just knew he was going to make some teasing comment. It was bad enough he taunted you in private over your crush on damn Deku, but you knew you were in serious trouble in front of a crowd. “What are you doing here?”

You grit your teeth at the smug asshole, face burning so incredibly bright red. From the corner of your eye, you knew Izuku was in a similar state.

“I’m Izuku’s date,” You explained what he already knew. It was hard enough to pretend to date Izuku to begin with, but now to do it all with Bakugou watching?

“Yeah, my date.” Izuku nodded. From the expression on his face, you knew he was thinking something similar to you. He was even closer to Bakugou than you were.

Bakugou smirked, but after a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged and went back to whatever conversation he had previously been in before your arrival. As he dropped the topic, you let out a breath you had been holding in due to nerves.

“That was close,” You murmured in Izuku’s ear as he led you across the room to an empty seat.

“Sorry,” He whispered back, close enough that you felt his breath brush against the shell of your ear. Shivering, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I kinda forgot that Kacchan would be here.”

“That’s alright,” You assured him, even though the way your heart was pounding in your chest was absolutely not alright. “I think he’s playing along for now.”

A truce, it would seem.

You should have known you couldn’t trust Bakugou when it came to matters of teasing Izuku.

At the dinner table, you sat beside Izuku, his hand still diligently holding yours. Of course, Bakugou had seated himself across from Izuku, shooting the two of you knowing, taunting looks as you ate. It was hard to answer Mrs. Midoriya’s questions about yourself or follow the conversations around the table when you were just waiting for Bakugou to start something.

“How long have you been together, again?” Inko asked politely as she served more of the food she had made onto your plate. You smiled graciously at her, trying to remember the story you and Izuku had created.

“A month.” You felt so guilty for lying, but Izuku had asked you for a favor and you’d agreed.

Though, it felt less and less like a fake date when Izuku refused to let go of your hand for a moment. Under the table, your fingers were threaded together and resting in your lap.

“Uh huh. And how’d you get together?” Bakugou cut in, shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned forward, interested in the conversation about your relationship.

“Katsuki, you’re being rude.” His mother chastised, but you felt a sudden need to rise to Bakugou’s challenge. If you were going to fake date Izuku, then you were going to do it right.

“Izuku just asked me when we were hanging out one day.” You countered with a newfound bravery. It wasn’t exactly a lie—you had been hanging out with Izuku when he asked you to be his date, only with the caveat that it was fake. Bakugou grinned at you playing into his game, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Yeah, Kacchan, you know.” Izuku stammered to back you up, and you smiled softly at him, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles once more under the table.

“What did he say, exactly?” Bakugou pushed for details, smirking.

“Why do you want to know?” Your face scrunched in confusion. It seemed more like he genuinely wanted to know instead of just teasing the two of you.

“Curious,” Bakugou shrugged, though his attention suddenly was fixed on Izuku, who was flushed bright red. “What’d ya say, Deku? Anything dramatic when ya asked ‘em out?”

You turned to face Izuku with a confused frown. It seemed like Bakugou was having a separate conversation with Izuku right in front of you.

“Oh, leave them alone, Katsuki!” Mrs. Bakugou ordered, and you realized exactly who he got his temper from. Scowling, Bakugou turned his focus from you and Izuku to argue with his mother. Despite your confusion, you managed to steal a glimpse at Izuku and found him blushing red and pushing food around his plate as if he was deep in thought.

Your secret was safe, for now.

Somehow, you made it through dinner without further comments from Bakugou, and before you knew it, Izuku was walking you home.

“I think it went well.” You hummed, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the two of you the moment his front door shut. His hand had slipped from yours once the night was over, and with it went any disbelief about what the night had been about. “I’m sorry that I probably won’t get to see your mother again.”

You really were upset about it. Inko had been an absolute delight, and you knew exactly where Izuku had gotten all his sweetness from. But at the mention of your inevitable fake breakup, Izuku tensed from beside you, pausing on the sidewalk outside his building.

“About that…” Izuku muttered, trailing off in nerves. You frowned at him in curiosity, having to fight the newly developed urge to hold his hand. How were you supposed to go back to normal after a night of pretending everything you wanted was real? “I, uh, actually meant for this to be real.”

“What?” Your mind went blank as you tried to process what he said. It wasn’t out of character for him to suddenly drop information on you out of nowhere, but never had it been something so serious as his possible feelings for you.

“When I asked you to be my date tonight.” He clarified, voice wavering. “I meant for real.”

You blinked slowly at him, barely able to keep your jaw from dropping in shock. How hadn’t you realized? When he asked you, you had just assumed he meant fake dating, and he had never corrected you. But to know that he meant it as a real, actual date? You couldn’t believe it.

“Why did you let me think you meant to pretend?” Shock was the only emotion evident on your face as you watched Izuku’s face flush at your admonishment.

“Because I didn’t want to push my luck! Plus I thought it might have been your way of letting me down easy. But Kacchan kept teasing, and I thought maybe he knew something I didn’t. And I don’t know, I’m really nervous right now. Please say something. Anything, really—”

“Izuku Midoriya.” You interrupted his rambling with a call of his full name, and it works a little too well, getting him to stop talking at the cost of making him go pale and freeze with wide eyes.

“Oh no.”

“You’re adorable.” Recovering from your shock, you grinned, reaching out to wrap your hand around his like you wanted to from the start. Holding his between both of your own, you made sure to brush your thumbs over his scars he had said thought made him weird earlier in the evening.

“Oh?”

“Ask me again.” You encouraged him, a smile gracing your lips as you watched every expression that washed over his features.

“What?” Ever oblivious to matters of the heart, his face twisted in confusion. “But the dinner is over already.”

“Izuku.” You tugged on his hand, bringing him half a step closer to you. “Ask me again.”

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant, and a blush bloomed across his face while he gathered his courage.

“Will you be my date to my mom’s holiday dinner party?”

“Of course I will.” You giggled, knowing it was a little ridiculous that you were making him ask you again but unable to go without setting things right. You had been too oblivious to know what he meant before, but now you could fix it.

“Really?” He asked, eyes wide, as if you weren’t holding his hand between your own.

“If you want me to.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Yeah.” Izuku nodded quickly, clearly excited. “Yeah, I really do. For real, this time.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully at his teasing jab. You were probably never going to be able to live down your misunderstanding.

You tugged his hand once more until he was so close you had to tilt your chin up to face him. With your sudden proximity, his teasing tone vanished, replaced by one of thinly veiled nervousness. A sweetheart.

“Do you kiss on the first date?” You asked, voice innocent despite the question. Izuku’s face went red, and you could have sworn you heard him audibly swallow.

“I’m trying very hard to be cool about this, but I can’t lie to you. I’ve never been on a first date.”

Oh, now that you knew he wanted you, you were going to eat him alive.

“Do you want to kiss on the first date?” Rephrasing your question, you tilted your head slightly to the side to watch his reaction.

“Yeah.”

Gently, you set a hand on his cheek to guide his face closer to yours, taking the lead to press your lips against his in a short, sweet kiss. His lips were slightly chapped from the cold and how often he chewed on them, but you enjoyed the way he burned against you all the same.

“Did the nerd finally ask you for real?”

At the sound of Bakugou’s voice, you jerked away from Izuku. With the adrenaline of Izuku’s confession, and then your kiss, you had forgotten you were only standing outside the building he lived in. It was a miracle that only Bakugou had caught you.

“Kacchan! I didn’t see you there!” Izuku, as red as ever, greeted your mutual friend with a renewed energy he hadn’t possessed when he’d been taunted with your fake date. Now that you had cleared the air about your intentions, his confidence had come back.

And apparently ruined all of Bakugou’s fun.

“I was just leaving.” The blond rolled his eyes, shoving past the two of you with a frown and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Watching him disappear down the sidewalk, you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him.

“Did he know this whole time?” You asked Izuku. You knew you had confided in Bakugou about how you felt, and if Izuku had done the same, then he had known the entire time and could have cleared the air.

“I… think so.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

if it’s not painfully obvious, this isn’t proofread

also i feel like i could have done so much better

#mha izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku midoryia x you #midoriya izuku #izuku mha #mha midoriya #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #my hero academia x you #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia

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uyuforu · 2 months ago

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Astro Observations X: Career Edition

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Astro Observations VII

જ⁀➴ Astro Observations VIII

જ⁀➴ Astro Observations IX 18+

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This post was based on observations on Natal Charts only.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 6H ruled by Mercury often can indicates working in the music industry, or a career where you'll use your voice.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 6H Ruler being Mercury and is placed in the 8H can mean people can be obsessed with your voice, with how you sound, with how you speak.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Asteroid Carrera (3050) conjunct Sun can mean you'll be an important figure in your career, job and industry where you'll work in. You can either become a role model or just it means you'll appear often in front of a public. For example, Jungkook has this placement, and him as an individual is very important for his career, his image and how he stands in front of people, in a crowd too.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Asteroid Carrera in good aspect to Ascendant can often mean your physical appearance will play a very important role in your career.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Asteroid Industria (389) in 3H can also mean working in music, singing fields, but also in a field where you'll use your voice often, words, expressing yourself, etc.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Industria conjunct Saturn can mean you'll have a very long career.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Industria in good aspect to Jupiter can be a sign of fame, at least big success in your career.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Pisces 6H can mean your career will be related to art and the creative field.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Gemini 6H can also be a sign of being a comedian, making people laugh, or using your voice and words to make some comedic effect.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Asteroid Carrera or Industria conjunct Venus/ Juno/ in 7H can mean working with your spouse.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Asteroid Carrera or Industria in 9H can be working with television, it can also be eventually being an icon or one of the pioneer of your industry. You'll be seen as a mentor.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Venus 6H/ 10H or Venus conjunct Industria/ Carrera means working as a model, or working and your beauty and charisma is part of your job.

⊹₊⟡⋆ I have noticed that a lot of celebrities that are adored online, mostly being icons or IT girls had Industria/ Carrera 11H.

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⊹₊⟡⋆ Capricorn 6H can mean having your own business, being a CEO. If Ruler is in 7H, it can be linked to fashion or make up industry. For example, Selena Gomez has Capricorn 6H and Saturn 7H, and she is the CEO of her make up brand, Rare Beauty.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Carrera/ Industria 9H often comes back with people who worked on sitcoms and tv shows.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Industria/ Carrera conjunct Uranus often indicates that you'll do different jobs at the same time. You can often have different opportunities which are all very different.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Carrera/ Industria in Leo often appears on amazing performers. Also appears with people who have intense charisma, or people who are often considered the ideal type of people.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Carrera/ Industria conjunct Moon can mean playing with your emotions, faking emotions can be part of your job. Many actors have that.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Industria/ Carrera or 6H in Taurus often can mean the person will work with beauty in general. This doesn't mean necessarily physical beauty but more beauty in words for example, such as writing poems, writing beautiful songs, or even just writing beautiful stories.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Union (1585) conjunct Carrera or Industria means your job can be part of your love story or how you get with your FS.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Industria or Carrera opposite Ascendant can mean your physical appearance will not be part of your career, you will not perhaps have to even show up to work. Perhaps you will work in a field where you can work from home. Your projects will be important, but you to be seen will be insignificant in this case.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Carrera or Industria 8H often appears with people who are talked about a lot. People who are stalked by many, or attention is constantly on them. Being popular this way can also be part of your job somehow. Meaning you can use this as a way to work with your career. Also can mean being under the spotlight pretty much all the time.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 4H Ruler conjunct MC can mean you can work with your family. It can also mean starting your career very young.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 9H Ruler conjunct MC can mean working with tv shows, or working in foreign lands.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 5H Ruler conjunct MC means you will do a very creative job. You can also have a lot of fun in your career. Moreover, this can mean working with or for a younger public.

⊹₊⟡⋆ Henry Cavill has Industria 8H in Scorpio, not surprising since he is considered as a s3x symbol and people are obsessed with him for that.

Thank you for reading!

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realprissygirl · 4 months ago

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prtygrlbeauty scent review 🍨

#deliciousdoll series pt. 1 🍥🌸🍬

body nectars:

1. passionfruit princess

“smells like fresh tropical fruits with deep tart hints of passionfruit, lemon, strawberry, and orange.”

omg so yummy and fruity. reminds me of fruit snacks. getting jolly ranchers and starburst from this and i fckn love it.

2. pink sugar

“smells like sweet delectable candy essence with vanilla and musk.”

fluffy, clean and sweet. so so pretty to smell like. loved to mix this one with eos strawberry dream. the definition of sweet without necessarily being gourmand or fruity. yum.

3. brown sugar baby

“smells like whipped vanilla buttercream & caramelized brown sugar, with hints of cream and caramel”

smells like a hot brown sugar latte with heavy cream and cinnamon sugar. i love this so much i’m about to wear tf out of it this fall.

4. cotton candy

“smells like spun caramelized sugar, strawberry, blueberry, and yummy vanilla”

the first thing i thought of was easter basket. super sweet candy smell. this may sound silly but it smells blue. like the color sky blue. almost like a blue raspberry. i love this one so much.

5. angel cake

“smells like soft and sweet angel food cake with a hint of vanilla and sugar, it's like you just took a heavenly bite. perfectly "baked" for you to feel angelic all day!”

cake batter and isn’t overly sweet. just rich and gourmand-y. haven’t used it yet but the smell alone tells me i’ll be using it with a lot of my favorite “bakery” scents.

6. birthday cake

“smells like rich and sweet birthday cake. moist, yellow cake with a rich, sweet butter cream frosting. you'll almost want to eat it! (please don't!)”

super similar to angel cake with a thick air of sweetness of the cake batter. this one is a hit for me and imma use this up so soon i can already tell.

7. cinnamon buns

“smells like ooey-gooey warm cinnamon rolls with vanilla buttercream frosting.”

i used to work in a cafe and when i went to smell this i got a strong memory of “cinnamon dulce”. i love love love this one i’ve used this one quite a bit since i got my second haul. a pure cinnamon and syrup scent.

8. strawberry vanilla macaron

“smells like sweet strawberry and rhubarb blended with creamy vanilla and spun sugar. hints of butter frosting, red berries, caramel, vanilla ice cream, and macarons.”

a strawberry glazed donut. strawberry, icing, and vanilla. so yummy.

9. sugar cookie

“smells like the perfect sugar cookie with buttercream frosting! notes of powdered sugar, butter and fresh cream!”

a less overwhelming take on “birthday cake”. slightly warm. everything the “sugar cookie�� perfume oil should have been.

10. strawberry shortie

“smells like strawberry shortcake, fresh sliced strawberries, warm vanilla cake, and fluffy whipped cream.”

reminds me of strawberry shortcake by canvas beauty in the sense that it smells like fake sweet strawberry and i love love love it soooo much. smells like an old strawberry shortcake lip balm from childhood.

11. ur berry cute

“smells like yummy black raspberry vanilla! notes of ripe black raspberries, dark plum, and warm vanilla!”

think of the smell of grape soda. definitely similar to black raspberry vanilla by bbw (one of my all time favorites). this might sound crazy but it smells so good to me. the heaviest candy like smell and it’s even better layered with other fruity scents.

perfume oils:

1. sugar cookie

“smells like the perfect sugar cookie with buttercream frosting! notes of powdered sugar, butter and fresh cream!”

i have to be honest. i didn’t like this at all. i got the creaminess but that was it. it smelled sort of sour. but luckily this is the only thing i’ve tried that i didn’t like from the brand. so on we move.

2. pink sugar

“smells like sweet sugar, vanilla, custard & marshmallow”

the scent smells like the color pink if that makes any sense. very clean and sweet. like sugar and powder blended together. it’s one of my favorites!

3. cozy sugar

“smells like warm vanilla sugar: intoxicating vanilla, white orchid, sparkling sugar, fresh jasmine and creamy sandalwood.”

warm, sweet, and almost synthetic. it almost reminds me of strawberry dream by eos. i can’t wait to layer her with my gourmand perfumes.

4. pumpkin pecan

“smells like belgian waffle, creamy pumpkin, butter pecan, walnut, maple & fall spices.”

sweet with an undertone of spice. so buttery and yummy. i don’t get too much pumpkin but cinnamon is sticking out to me. i literally love it and i’m so glad to have it in my fall collection.

5. whipped berries

“smells like berry, whipped vanilla and peach blossom”

baby powder and mixed berries. pretty clean and not overwhelming at all.

6. flower fields

“smells like fresh flower fields! star notes: freesia, green leaves, tuberose, jasmine sambac, egyptian jasmine, rose de mai, peach, oakmoss & cedar.”

straight florals. no other families of fragrance and honestly i love it. makes it super nice to layer or amplify other florals i have (and help dial back the sweetness of some sweet florals i love). reminds me of chanel chance.

7. whipped spice

“smells like whipped vanilla cream, cinnamon, honey & corriander.”

immediately thought of almond blossom and oat milk by vs. i don’t get too much spice from this. rather a lactonic sweet and creamy smell. i personally love the honey and think it’ll be perfect for fall.

8. fruit snacks

“smells like citrusy, juicy, sweet fruit! star notes: raspberry, citrus, candy & rose.”

my absolute favorite of them all. i wear it nearly daily. such a sweet fruity gourmand. has a candy quality to it. if you like any sweet mists by bbw you’d love this.

9. vanilla bean

“smells like whipped cream, vanilla, caramel, chocolate, musk & benzoin”

a clean but rich vanilla. reminds me of a vanilla deodorant. then there’s a warm kick to the bottom notes. i love it.

10. cake pop

“smells like soft, sweet & fluffy confetti cake”

powdered sugar and sprinkles. cake pop is a fitting name when you think of the icing and sprinkles a cake pop has. i wore this out with sweet like candy and it brought a deeper layer to the ari perfume. but other than for layering, i don’t reach for it too often.

11. strawberry cake

“smells like fresh strawberries & fluffy shortcake and whipped cream.”

imagine if bubble bath by maison margiela and strawberry pound cake were mixed and that’s what this gives to me. candy with a bit of a fresh, clean note.

12. white mocha

“smells like white chocolate, cozy cappuccino, vanilla orchid, and white tonka bean.”

mocha is chocolate but i didn’t get any chocolate from this but what it does smell like is something you’d get a coffee shop around christmas time. just not chocolatey. marshmallow-y. sweet but not overwhelming. VERY long lasting.

13. warm cream

“smells like light & sweet vanilla backed by a rich and heavy amber. an exotic, creamy vanilla scent.”

another one of my favorite oils. sugary with a bit of noticeable amber. lasts super long and is extremely versatile.

14. soft vanilla

“smells like soft, sweet & warm vanilla and musk.”

barely there. a clean vanilla scent. tiny bit of sandalwood. i think it would layer so well year round.

15. vanilla powder

“smells like soft vanilla orchid, warm cashmere, golden amber, and light florals. a clean vanilla scent.”

extremely similar to vanilla bean but stronger and creamier. also reminds of armani my way’s bottom notes.

#gif by 27kb 🎀#certified princess! ❤︎ ྀི #prtygrlbeauty #luvs it #perfume #fragrantica #prty grl beauty #self care #❤︎ ྀི˖𓍢ִ໋#delicious doll

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honeyryewhiskey · 2 months ago

Text

it's just a stupid holiday

abt, dean takes his cupid to a valentine's gala, where a rogue angel has been preying on adulterers. you're just excited to be part of the chaos, and dean is trying desperately to keep his focus on the mission and not on his bubbly lovebird wrapped in a little red dress. what could possibly go wrong with this situation? cw, grumpyxsunshine go on a fake date ! dean practicing restraint ! and failing bc this stupid cupid is just so sweet ! fluff ! mentions of violence but no gruesome details, mdni, 18+ 3.9k words

“i still don’t get why it has to be me doing this crap,” dean groans, shifting uncomfortably in his usual seat behind the impala’s wheel. his fingers drum against it as he scowls out the windshield.

sam, sitting to his right, doesn’t bother looking up from the stack of papers he’s reviewing. “because you’re better at the whole…” he gestures vaguely, searching for the right words, “pretending-to-be-charming-with-women thing.”

dean snorts, tossing his brother a sideways glare. “gee, thanks, sammy. real boost to the ‘ol self-esteem.” he rolls his eyes and adjusts the rearview mirror—only to catch a glimpse of you in the backseat.

that stupid dress. that strappy, red, distracting dress. you’re busy fiddling with the silky hem, completely oblivious to the way it hugs you in all the right places.

dean clears his throat sharply. fidgeting with his suit tie, he forces his eyes back to the road. “hey, cupid,” he growls, trying to sound annoyed instead of flustered. “remember, this is a job. we’re not going to this thing to drink champagne and play house. we’re hunting. focus.”

you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of their seat. a playful grin spreads across your lips as you reach out to pinch his cheek. “oh, dean, don’t you worry,” you assure, ignoring his quick swat at your hand. “i’ll be the best hunting partner ever. all business. no play.”

you deepen your voice, mimicking his usual gruff tone. “just like you.”

dean groans louder this time, and sam smirks faintly without looking up.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the plan for tonight? attend some high society valentine’s night gala as dean’s date, while sam kept watch of the perimeter. honestly all you really heard was sam and dean entrusting you to go undercover on a hunt with them—and you smiled so hard your cheeks ached (to which the brothers again started bickering about whether or not including you was a good idea). then they explained the holiday, humans practically worshipping cupids for a day, the excitement thrummed through you so hard you damn near passed out right there in the middle of the war room.

sam and dean made it sound so straightforward, but as you walked into the venue—your arm looped through a stiff and uncomfortable dean’s—it became glaringly obvious this event would be anything but simple.

red and pink heart shaped balloons spilled out from the entrance, framing a sleek red carpet scattered with rose petals that guided you into the heart of the party. the ballroom was enormous, yet nearly every inch of the room was drenched in lavish decor—flowers, jewels, endless shades of red and pink. a sizable crowd mingled beneath the dazzling display, their chatter blending harmoniously with the soft, elegant symphony flowing from the orchestra on stage.

a small gasp left your painted lips as you took everything in, “this is incredible.”

dean, watching you carefully as your eyes darted from one dazzling detail to the next, murmured, “yeah, sure is.” his voice was barely audible in that soft tone.

you peeled your gaze away from the galore, meeting his with that sugary sweet smile that makes his knees grow weak. “this is really all for cupids and love?”

his brows cock as he considers your words, trying for once to not immediately destroy the innocence beaming from your eyes with his charmingly pessimistic perspective on, well, everything. “yeah,” he clears his throat, his arm slipped from yours, absentmindedly raising his hand to push the stray hairs that had fallen in your face, he hated when anything—anything at all—hid that view. “all of this exists because of what you lovebirds do to us.”

you’ve gotten sharper in the weeks you’ve spent with the winchesters. picking up on what they call sarcasm and double meanings isn’t the easiest, but you’ve become so observant of dean you can almost feel it when he says one thing, and inside guards his true emotions. something in the way his face tightens, how deep of a breath he takes to release the stress, you’re not even sure if he’s aware of these tells but you know better than to clue him in on your cheat codes for decoding this ever-complicated man.

dean sighs, slipping his hands into his dress pants as his eyes scanned the crowd, “alright little angel, let’s—”

you’re about ten feet away before he can finish his sentence, bee-lining to a side table overflowing with chocolate boxes, teddy bears, bouquets, flower-shaped ornaments, and so many little cherubs adorning nearly every item.

a woman dressed in crisp black and white approached you with a polite smile, balancing a platter of dainty, bite-sized cakes. “please, help yourself to anything you’d like. mr. and mrs. nightingale donated all of these lovely trinkets for our guests.”

“uh, we’re good on toys, thanks.” a gruff voice booms over your shoulder. dean snakes one arm around your waist as he reaches out with his free hand, swiping two mini cakes off the platter. the woman shot him a withering glare before turning away.

“here.” he muttered, plopping one of the treats into your open palm, devouring the other in one bite.

“but, dean,” you whine, dropping the cake onto the table and reaching for a plush brown bear sitting front and center.

dean’s grip around your waist tightened, pulling you snug against his chest. the sudden shift made you wobble on the cherry-red heels you’d only recently learned to walk in.

“nuh uh.” he hums, low and firm. “business, lovebird. focus.”

your pouted lips and narrowed eyes meet his steady squint—a silent warning for you to cut it out.

“fine.” you whimper, giving the bear one last wistful glance before turning reluctantly back to the crowd. “what are we doing again?”

“trying to figure out who the next victim is, while sam watches for the angel.” leaning down so only you could hear. his breath on your ear sends little sockwaves down your spine, his tone low to avoid drawing attention from the nearby guests. “think your cupid crap can sniff out any cheaters in the crowd?”

your brows knit as you try to focus your energy on observing with your angel vision. you can’t necessarily see or smell infidelity, but there are glittering strings that exist between connected humans and only a cupid is capable of detecting them.

slowly, the ballroom came alive before your eyes, dozens of ribbons in gold, red, white, and silver weaving through the spaces between bodies. each color represents a distinct bond woven in fate. but the sheer number of people packed so tightly together made it difficult to pinpoint who belonged to what thread. the tangled web shifted and shimmered, overwhelming your senses as you struggled to unravel it.

“i can’t smell infidelity,” you state plainly, your tone clipped as you strain to focus on the red strings in particular. a throbbing begins in your head, growing sharper with each passing second. “There’s red, but—”

the throbbing quickly escalates into a pounding ache, forcing you to release the energy of the room. your vision shifts back to that of a mortal’s as your hands instinctively clutch dean’s arm for support.

he reacts instantly, turning you to face him as his strong hands steady your swaying form at the waist. “hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice low but firm, concern flashing in those jade-green eyes as they search your face for an answer.

“i can’t, dean, i’m not really strong enough to read this many people,” your eyes find the floor, feeling too embarrassed to meet his gaze, “the energy, it just kinda pushes me out.”

when cas left you with the brothers, he failed to mention that you were a bit of a heaven reject. a cupid with faulty powers—and the whole issue with you not always wanting to follow heavenly orders. cas saw something in you, at least, and you hoped that the winchesters would, too.

“c’mere.” dean huffs, locking your fingers in his as he guides you down another hall. you step into a smaller room where a few people are scattered about on lavish couches and chairs. standing slightly behind you he places a reassuring hand on the small of your back he leans over your shoulder, “try it in here.”

with a nod you focus again, dean’s thumb rubs against your back soothingly, his other hand tightly wrapped over the top of yours as he watches you with care. again the room is dancing with ribbons, but the power isn’t nearly as overwhelming. “there’s a lot of gold in here.” you speak without looking away from the crowd, a smile finding your lips as you notice the elderly couples bound in glittering gold.

“what’s that mean?”

“purity turned everlasting.” you release his hand to face him, unable to contain the smile on your lips as you describe the phenomenon that makes you most excited to be a cupid, “they were fated with white strings, or bonds, to have something sweet between them, a simple fling or a good marriage. but it could have easily turned red and fragile from something like cheating, and it didn’t. these souls will probably find themselves in the same heaven, now, because of their commitment to the bond.”

dean grins down at you, catching the way your excitement practically vibrates through your body. truthfully, it all sounded like a load of crap to him. but then there’s you—with that unbound energy, one he’s certain no one else—angel or human—could ever replicate. the way your infatuation with love seems so genuine, so pure, it softens parts of him that have been hardened for years, wound tightly in cynicism for the very thing you embody.

before he can stop himself, his mind drifts. he’s already considering leaving sam to handle the case on his own, just for one night, so he can watch you explore this world with that wide-eyed wonder. to see you smile up at him like that a little longer.

and maybe—just maybe—to catch a few more glimpses of you prancing around in that little dress, oblivious to the way it rides up your thighs when you move, or how your bouncing excitement causes… other things to bounce right along with you.

dean clenches his jaw, mentally reprimanding himself as he forces his gaze away from you. focus, winchester. focus.

“so, you’re saying we need to find red bonds or whatever,” he mutters, working to keep his voice steady. “but you can’t see ’em with all those people in there.”

you nod, watching him closely as he weighs his options.

“uh-huh,” he breathes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “guess that means we’ll have to chat up some of the drunk old birds with loose lips.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

dean’s plan worked. after about an hour of mingling with the party guests, the two of you find yourselves on the edge of the crowd, watching a middle-aged married couple whom numerous women had whispered about. rumors swirled of the wife and her tennis coach, the husband and his secretary—long trips taken without the other, late nights at the office. all the signs of mutual betrayal.

the exact kind of relationship the rogue angel has been targeting.

“classic,” dean mutters, eyes narrowing as he observes the couple, now mingling on opposite ends of the room. his stance is tall and stiff, locked in hunter mode.

you tilt your head, less focused on the case and more on the glittering display of treats and trinkets catching your eye a few tables away. a quick glance confirms dean is too busy scowling at the couple to notice you quietly slip off.

the desserts are as extravagant as the rest of the party, each treat adorned with ribbons and delicate designs. A small card catches your attention: cordial cherries. intrigued, you pop one into your mouth. the sugary red juice takes you by surprise, spilling down your chin and all over your fingertips.

the flavor is sweet against your tongue, the chewy red center tart in contrast. you reach for another, taking it whole, and another for good measure, needing more of that sugary taste. you hadn’t heard dean approach, closing in on you with a confused scowl etched into his brows.

“love,” dean’s gruff voice startles you, his hand suddenly grasping your sticky chin to turn your face towards his, “you’re making a mess.”

embarrassed, you freeze, cheeks flushed as you glance up at him with cherry-stained lips. dean’s eyes darken slightly, flicking down to your mouth as he brushes his thumb along your sticky chin. without a second thought, he sucks the sugary residue off his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours.

a strange, warm sensation blooms in your chest—and lower—making your eyes widen in surprise. that was a new feeling, and something about dean’s expression told you now probably wasn’t the time to ask him about it.

dean looks over his shoulder toward the couple again, his expression unreadable. looking back to you, he sighs. “bathroom,” he nods to the corner, “now.” he orders, his voice a little rougher than usual.

You pout but follow him obediently, weaving through the crowd until you slip into the lavishly decorated restroom. Dean locks the door behind you, the click of the latch oddly loud in the quiet space. In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your reflection—smudged lipstick, syrupy streaks trailing down your chin, and little splotches on the swell of your breasts.

without a word dean is behind you, in the reflection his face is blank, barely hiding his agitation. he spins you to face him, his pupils eating away at the green of his eyes. his hands find your hips and in one motion you’re seated on top of the porcelain space between the sinks.

“‘m sorry, dean.” you mumble, looking down at your hands in lap, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he grunts a ‘mhm’ in response, making that warmth in your center morph into a ball of anxiety. the feeling you usually get after doing something terribly wrong, and dean gets that familiar scowl and grumpy tone.

like he is now, except he usually isn’t this quiet.

he comes back to you with a handful of wet paper towels. his eyes are focused on your lips as he wipes away the lipstick and sticky sugar.

“stop pouting like that.” he grumbles, folding the paper before dragging it down your chin. his hand stops, eyes flicking between your chest and eyes for a moment before he’s handing the paper over to you, “you can get the rest.”

as you dab at the mess on your chest, the silence stretches between you, weighted by unspoken thoughts. your mind drifts back to the couple in the ballroom, their entwined red strings sullied by betrayal.

“why do they do that?” you ask softly, breaking the quiet, “that couple, why do they do that to each other?”

dean shrugs, standing between your legs with his arms crossed. “just what people do, lovebird. it’s not something i can really explain. everyone makes choices for their own reasons, hell, they probably don’t even know why they do that to each other.”

you nod, mulling over his words. “i wouldn’t make those choices,” you say after a moment. “if I could be human, i wouldn’t waste it. What they have… it’s a gift.”

dean chuckles dryly, “and somehow i believe you, little angel. but being human isn’t all kittens and rainbows, mortality sucks. our emotions suck. and making the right choices, it—it’s hard.”

“but you get to feel,” you say, your voice softening. “you get to fall in love. those emotions are what make humans so… special. sometimes i wish i could feel that.” you pause, suddenly shy. “maybe that’s why I’m not a very good cupid. i get too distracted by all these questions.”

Dean’s gaze softens, his arms uncrossing, planting his strong hands on either side of you, leaning closer. “You’re not a bad cupid,” he says gruffly, fighting with himself to sound more gentle than usual. “you care, a whole lot. if it were up to me, i’d say that’s not a bad thing.”

before you can respond, the ring of dean’s phone echos in the room, shattering the tension. he pulls away to retrieve it out of his pocket, scowling at the screen. “sam says the angel’s outside. we need to move.”

his hand finds yours, instinctively, tugging you out of the room and through the crowd. dean is locked into hunter mode again, his entire body on high alert as he’s practically dragging you across the ballroom.

reaching the furthest wall, large windows give view to an expansive flower garden shimmering under the moonlight. a rather beautiful sight, where each bush is perfectly trimmed to line the weaving cobblestone paths. dean pauses at the door, looking back at you with a look that makes you wonder if he’s about to be sick.

before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s dropping your clasped hands, “just—stay in here. keep watch of the people while sam and i handle this.”

“what?” you begin, flustered. sam and dean had spent days prepping you for whatever might happen. you learned how to actually use your own angel blade, the one you only carried around because it was an order but had never intended on using. dean taught you how to shoot his guns, and despite your distaste for their sharp sounds and harsh rebound—you sucked it up because the boys were trusting you. “no! i’m in this, too, remember? i can help—”

“no.” his voice is stern, his mind already made. he was giving you that look again, that made you feel like a helpless baby. it was comforting when it got him to ease up on you for little mistakes, but right now it was annoying. irritating, because you finally felt like you’d get to prove your worth with this hunt.

“dean—” you start, but the door swings shut behind him before you can finish. with an exasperated groan, you rush to a near by window, heart pounding as you watch him dart down the shadowed path.

the moment he’s out of sight, a sick twist of nerves coils in your stomach. seconds stretch into centuries, a burning lump rising in your throat as your imagination runs wild. then, movement catches your eye in the darkness.

dean’s body flies through the air, crashing hard into the ground like a ragdoll.

your breath stutters. you’ve never witnessed a hunt before—not firsthand—but you’ve seen the aftermath. bruises, cuts, even broken bones you’d healed despite dean’s gruff protests against your divine touch helping him.

he struggles back to his feet, but he’s too slow. the angel—a tall, imposing figure in a crisp suit—stalks towards him with eerie precision, circling like a predator toying with its prey. from your vantage point, the angel’s back is turned to you. that’s all the opening you need.

without thinking, you dart for the door. the cool night air sends goosebumps rippling over your skin, the chill mixing with the nervous heat burning inside you. you catch sam out of the corner of your eye, lying on the ground further up the path and groggily coming back to consciousness as he sits up.

stopping short, you kick off one of your cherry-red heels, gripping it tightly in your hand. it may not be a bow, but you’re still an archer—and this will have to do. with a flick of your wrist, you send the stiletto flying through the air.

the heel collides sharply with the back of the angel’s head. he stumbles slightly before spinning around, fury etched into his face as his silver blade flashes in the moonlight.

fear floods your system, making your knees weak. you’re not sure if it’s bravery or recklessness keeping you standing as he charges towards you. but your distraction is enough.

dean is on his feet again, blade in hand. with one swift motion, he drives it deep into the angel’s neck. the being’s body flickers with light before crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

for a moment, everything is still. to stand frozen, gawking at the scene before you as dean slowly staggers back, panting heavily. when his eyes find yours, they’re sharp with anger. with a huff he’s crossing the grass towards you, that grumpy scowl having taken over his pretty features.

“dean, i—i’m sorry, but—”

he closes the distance in two long strides, hands cupping either side of your face. the firmness in his touch makes your breath catch in your throat. before you can say anything more, he gently tugs, pressing two rough kisses to your forehead.

you blink up at him, your thoughts a buzzing, tangled mess.

“save it, lovebird. i know.” he sighs, dropping his hands. his voice is gruff but softer than you expect, his relief shining through the cracks of his frustration. “just never do that again.”

sam slowly approaches, sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek. his expression wavers between amused and impressed. “nice shot, cupid. i told dean you’d come through.”

“shut it, sammy.” dean snaps back, his scowl deepening as he glances over his shoulder at the angel’s body. “let’s get rid of the angel’s body and get the hell out of here.”

you bite back a sheepish grin, slipping your remaining shoe off to follow behind the brothers.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

back at the bunker…

you had tried, several times, to get out of the stupid red dress. the thin straps came loose from your shoulders easily enough. but the damn zipper in the back was just out of your reach, no matter how you twisted or stretched, it remained out of grasp. the nice lady at the dress shop who helped you get into the damn thing, wasn’t around to get you out of it.

with an annoyed huff, you padded barefoot out of your room and down the hall, the hem of the dress swishing faintly with every step. you stopped in front of dean’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking.

there was a pause, followed by a muffled shuffling sound. the door swung open, dean took up most of the door frame clad in an old band shirt and sweats, his hair mussed from sleep and his expression distinctly unimpressed.

“what?” he grumbles, voice rough and gravelly, clearly annoyed at having been woken up.

“i need help,” you whine, turning your back to him and gesturing over your shoulder. “i can’t get to the stupid zipper.”

he let out a long-suffering sigh, but his rough finger tips brush against your skin as he grips the top of your dress in one hand and tugged the zipper down with the other.

you’re not really used to wearing dresses, and you’re too tired to think about how, y’know, gravity works.

the silky red material drops to the floor, pooling over your feet. “oh.” you mumbled, looking down at the discarded dress.

“jesus,” dean muttered, his voice strained. when you looked back at him, his eyes were fixed firmly on the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together as if trying to keep a lid on something.

a wicked giggle bubbled up before you could stop it. “thanks, dean!” you chirp, abandoning the dress on the floor and darting down the hall in nothing but your pink underwear.

the sound of his exasperated cursing followed you, echoing against the hall as your laughter trailed behind.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x cupid!reader #dean winchester x angel!reader #supernatural fanfiction

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cupidscorpsee · 6 months ago

Text

You Missed the Damn Line

WC - 5,642 / 21 minute read

Warnings - Smut / 18+ content throughout / feminine terms used for reader

A/N: i’m ashamed of myself 0_0

In which you, an actress, are due for a sex scene with Hugh Jackman, but he has a better idea.

You tried your best, you really did, but they were simply not buying it.

“Cut!” the director yelled, letting out a frustrated sigh as he walked up to the two actors on set. “What the fuck was that, L/N?”

You laughed awkwardly despite the director’s clear irritation. “You’re kidding. You’re making this impossible.”

Hugh sits up, careful not to ruin his carefully-messed up hair. He nodded in agreement. “Nothing’s good enough for you, mate.”

“Nothing’s good—” He scoffs, cutting himself off before he could finish mocking Hugh. “It’ll be good enough when you two get your shit together and shoot a good fucking sex scene.”

The director walks back to the camera and the intimacy coordinator beside it—a kind woman with a death glare pointed at the director. She sighed and looked back to the set. “Alright, you two. L/N, how are you doing? You comfortable?”

You sigh and lay back on the bed, staring up at the fake ceiling for this fake house in this fake movie that you were faking your way through. The life of an actress seemed to be a never-ending series of pretending to be someone you’re not. “I’m just peachy.”

The intimacy coordinator hums. “What about you, Hugh?”

“I’ll be fine as soon as that ol’ dag learns to be less of a prick,” Hugh mutters.

It was quite amusing to see Hugh this way, you will admit. He wasn’t usually so grumpy on set. In fact, he tended to be the sunshine in the movie-making cloud of darkness. Your countless camcorder videos of him cracking jokes or simply making a fool of himself behind the scenes proved he was always the life of the party.

“Jesus Christ,” the director groans. “Let’s just shoot the damn scene already.”

The intimacy coordinator rushes up to the two actors, ensuring everything from comfort, consent, modesty garments, and props are sufficiently in place, and then jogs back to the director’s side.

The director stood at the monitor, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviewed the blocking for the scene. He was known for his meticulous attention to detail, and today was no different. Except, of course, he was a tad bit more intense at the moment. He turned to the crew and began giving instructions that neither you or Hugh could quite make out.

Hugh smiled at you, trying to ease the tension he knew you were feeling. “How ya feeling? Really.”

You cracked a smile, amused by his way of noticing when you were lying to the crew about your true emotions. “Tired and cranky. You?”

He shrugged. “Could use some supper, but other than that, I’m quite alright.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Nothing about this situation is pissing you off? You’re really alright right now?”

He grins. “Yes. Bloody Oath.”

You smile softly. “Honestly, I’m really fucking nervous right now. I’ve never done this kind of scene before.”

“What about your first film? Ripe Age, was it?”

You grin. “Little secret…? That was a body double filming the sex scene for me.”

Hugh raises an eyebrow and lets out a surprised huh sound. He then nodded in understanding, considering your words and putting together why you’d be nervous. He’d been in a few sex scenes before, but each one was different. Each acting partner brought their own energy and concerns. “I see, well… I’m right here with ya and we’ve got a bloody good team. Aside from Director Dickwad, of course.”

You laugh softly, not wanting to attract the director’s attention.

Just then, the intimacy coordinator approaches you two with her signature calm and kind demeanor. “Hey, L/N, Mr. Jackman, the director wants to go over everything one more time before we try again. Just to make sure we’re on the same page.”

The woman pulls up a prop chair from the room and sits at your eye level. You and Hugh listen to her intently, not wanting to miss something and having to re-shoot again. You’d done this scene enough times by now. “Okay, so we’ve discussed boundaries and comfort levels. Let’s revisit the choreography to make sure everything feels right.”

The woman held up the shot list and walked you two through the steps, just as one might for a complex dance sequence. You almost laughed at the notion of this being like a dance. Everything felt so ridiculous.

After a quick summary, the intimacy coordinator asks you two to get back into your positions for the scene. You slip back into your usual spots with ease. The woman guides you with gentle touches, adjusting a hand here, a foot there, ensuring your movements would look as natural as possible on camera while staying within your agreed limits.

You became hyper-aware of the small distance between your bodies—the way Hugh’s hand rested lightly on your waist, the heat of his skin warming yours through the thin, nude-colored underwear you wore.

“Remember,” the intimacy coordinator said after she was satisfied with their positions, her voice even, “this is a slow, intimate moment between two lovers who have missed each other very much.”

Hugh nodded, his focus remaining on you underneath him. “Right. We’ll take it slow.”

Your breath hitched softly at this. It was strangely comforting to know that he could see right through you and how you wanted so badly for everyone to be patient with you. “Yeah. Slow is good.”

The woman clapped, snapping you out of your moment of admiration for Hugh. “Alright, let’s get ready.”

The room was quieter than usual—a closed set. Only a few key crew members stood under the dimmed studio lights. The typical whispering and hum of equipment were replaced by a focused stillness. The room was dressed to look like an apartment bedroom—plush pillows under your head on a wide bed, soft lighting that cast warm shadows, and milky-white curtains that would sway with an unseen breeze after post-production.

You wore an almost translucent strapless bra, your nipples covered with nude-toned patches, and seamless nude underwear. Hugh, with a similar setup, wore modesty garments designed to appear as if he was—like you—fully exposed while still maintaining dignity. The garments, though strange and small, felt like a shield of some sort—a reminder that this wasn’t as invasive as it felt.

“Places,” the director called, and the set fell silent. The intimacy coordinator positioned herself by the monitor, ready to catch every detail. The director rested his chin in his palm, scratching his beard one, twice, before finally calling:

“Action.”

You and Hugh did everything again. The same exact choreographed movements you both had practiced. You focused on doing better than before, trying to make your rehearsed sounds and muttered lines seem real for the screen. Every touch and movement from Hugh was gentle and deliberate, ensuring you two stayed within the boundaries you had set beforehand. The scene was intimate, but the atmosphere between your near-nude bodies remained respectful and professional.

You moved together, your bodies close but never truly touching in the most vulnerable areas. You could feel the heat of Hugh’s breath against your neck as he leaned down, your movements slow and deliberate. Your fingers trailed down his bare back, your touch light, guided by the choreography you had rehearsed. You tried to focus on the script’s emotions—the longing, the fleeting connection…

The sounds of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric beneath you, and the soft creak of the bed were the only things you heard—all blending into the story you were trying to tell.

Hugh cupped your face in his right palm, his thumb brushing your skin in a gesture that was more tender than you expected. It was a small, unscripted moment, but it made the scene feel real. Almost too real.

You falter and miss your line—an important mumble of the words, I cease to exist without you near me. Your eyes widen as you realize your idiotic mistake.

“Cut!” the director calls, the annoyance in his voice far from hidden. “You missed the damn line. We’re taking a break. I need a fucking cigarette.”

Hugh gets off you and you sit up, fighting the urge to literally face-palm right then and there. You groan softly, embarrassed by your own blunder.

Hugh is quick to apologize. “I should’ve stuck to the script. I threw you off—”

“No, no, I wasn’t focused enough,” you interrupted, shaking your head. You exhaled a frustrated breath and covered your face in your palms. You wanted to disappear. Your words came out muffled as you spoke again. “Jesus, I wish we could just have actual sex. At least it would be convincing.”

There’s a strange silence that follows and you have to peek through your fingers just to make sure you didn’t somehow fall off the face of the planet and into the void of outer space. Hugh is staring down at the mattress underneath his rested hand, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. You raise an eyebrow. “Hugh…?”

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable, but not unkind. “What if we bail on this whole choreography nonsense? The director hardly knows how to write a bloody script. I wouldn’t be surprised if that dole bludger has never had sex before in his entire life.”

You stare at him blankly before blinking once, then twice. “What are you proposing?”

“Have you ever seen 9 Songs? Or Shortbus?”

You shake your head.

“The actors had unsimulated sex in order to portray their characters more efficiently. Of course, they had to sign contracts and consider possible strict scrutiny from the rating boards, but…”

You nearly laugh but grow red in the face when you notice his lack of humor. He’s serious? “You’re serious?”

He nods. “I… It’s a little mad, but we’re getting nowhere with this scene right now.”

Your throat goes dry. “This isn’t just some ruse to get laid, right? Some fucked up fantasy?”

“It isn’t.”

“You swear?”

“Bloody Oath.”

“I don’t know what that means,” you whisper, your voice somewhat emotionless as you’re too busy in a whirlwind of thoughts to pay much attention to anything else.

He chuckles softly, but there’s a hint of his own nerves peeking through. “Ah, it’s a form of saying ‘of course’ or ‘definitely’. Aussie shite.”

“The media will go crazy for this when they find out,” you say, completely ignoring his explanation. It didn’t even register. It went in through one ear and out the other. “The movie will be controversial. We’ll be controversial.”

He smiles and cracks another joke. “A little controversy never hurt anybody.”

Yes, it fucking did, you think, but you don’t say anything. You simply consider his idea. It’s insane. It’s mental. It’s lock-you-up-in-a-psych-ward crazy.

But it’s tempting.

After all, any press is good press, right?

“We should talk to Aimee,” you say, gesturing at the intimacy coordinator who was sipping now-cold coffee from a mug that read, Teaching is my superpower, what’s yours? It didn’t make any fucking sense and for some reason that pissed you off more than the stupidity of this decision did.

Hugh nods and then huffs slightly. “It was just an idea, though, mate. It’s a bit reckless. We sincerely don’t have to.”

“Hugh.”

Silence. A beat of hesitation. “Yeah, mate?”

“Let’s get our movie done.”

You walk up to the intimacy coordinator, asking to speak to her in private. You enter the director’s empty office, borrowing his space. The woman sips her coffee and then sets it down on the brown desk beside you two, waiting for you to speak.

“Have you seen 9 Songs?”

She stares at you, a dumbfounded expression quickly replaced by one of steady firmness. “Absolutely not. L/N, no. Do you know what that could mean for this film?”

You furrow your eyebrows slightly. “Aimee, we’ve been shooting this same fucking scene for weeks. This is the climax of the movie. It’s a pivotal moment. You can’t have a movie about transformative romantic and sexual intimacy without a convincing sex scene.”

Aimee raises an eyebrow. “You’ve analyzed the script?”

“I’ve read the damn book we’re adapting.”

“We’d have to change the rating from R to NC-17 or X, L/N.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just… talk to the director. He’ll be the one to give you the green light.”

You nod.

————————————————————————

“Are you a fucking imbecell?”

“It’s actually pronounced ‘imbecile’, sir, and, uh, no. I’m not. I’m serious. This—” You snatch the worn, slightly bent script from the director’s free hand, his other one holding a lit cigarette, “This here is a fucking work of art that you’ve got. Hugh and I are committed to it. We want it as much as you do. As much as the thousands of fans who read the book are. People deserve a loyal adaptation.”

The director looks at you, stunned silent by the sudden balls you’ve grown. “You want the Wolverine to fuck you on camera for everyone to see?”

You shove the script to his chest, holding it there with the palm of your hand. “You’re damn right I do. I’m not letting you fuck up this movie.”

He clears his throat, takes a long drag from his cigarette, and then quotes, “‘Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.’”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Fine,” he says shortly. He drops his half-done cigarette on the concrete floor and stomps on it with his shoe, like a kid murdering a helpless ant just because he can. “But we’ll have to change the rating of the film. Expect less raving reviews and more controversy-fueled attention. You’re not winning a damn Oscar from this, kid. That’s out the window now.”

“So be it.”

“Tell Aimee to get the necessary paperwork to you and Mr. Jackman in thirty minutes. We’re finishing this godforsaken scene today.”

————————————————————————

“Okay, and…” Aimee starts, stacking the signed contracts atop each other before holding them together with a paperclip, “…there we go. All set. I hope you know that this is fucking insane.”

Hugh leans back in his chair. “I’d say it’s time I take a risk in my career. Can’t always rely on my X-Men reputation to carry me afloat.”

You roll your eyes. “Says the veteran actor.”

“If forty plus years of acting makes me veteran, what does that make you?” Hugh asks with a playful look.

“The total opposite.”

“Guys, please. Get a damn room,” Aimee interrupts. “Okay, so, the room will be empty while you two… Yeah. I’ll be right outside the door if you need me. The cameras will be running the whole time as soon as I leave the room. Post-production is gonna have a helluva lot of fun with this shit.”

“They’ll have ‘shower-nozzle masturbation material for weeks’,” the director says suddenly, having been sitting beside Aimee but mindlessly scrolling through his phone the entire time, seemingly uninterested in the legal, paperwork process.

“Do you always quote Heathers?” you ask, more amused than truly interested.

“Whenever possible.”

Aimee scoffs and then stands. “Let’s go get you geniuses ready on set. ‘Come on, it’ll be very.’”

The director smirks at the intimacy coordinator’s quick, witty use of reference.

They head back to the set and the crew fixes up the cameras and lighting before leaving Aimee, Hugh, you, and the director alone in the room. The director inspects the cameras before humming in satisfaction. “Fuck the choreography, then. Just… keep the characters in mind, please. Use your lines. I’m not paying you two to fuck on my set for no reason.”

Hugh smirks. “See ya in a bit, ol’ cobber.”

The director waves him off and leaves the room, Aimee following suit after a brief reminder of consent and safety rules. Soon enough, you and Hugh are left on the set alone, the cameras running and expectant.

Hugh sits on the bed. All the foreplay scenes were already shot and done a few days back, meaning they didn’t have to act anything like that out anymore. The only part they were missing was the sex. Just the undressing, the friction, the orgasms, and that was that.

“Come here,” Hugh whispers, his voice slipping into his impressive, fake American accent. You admired the way he could get into character so easily.

You walk up to him and stand in between his legs as he sits at the edge of the mattress. His hands make contact with your waist almost immediately, the thin robe with the production company’s logo on it riding up as his hands follow the curve and dip of your hips. You bite your bottom lip and watch his face as he feels you up. Somehow, it’s different than before. His fingers burn holes in your skin, making you feel jolts of both confusion and excitement.

If all the foreplay scenes were done with, why was he acting this way?

He grips her hips tighter, a small squeeze following suit before his fingers graze over the tied strings up front. “May I?”

You nod, not saying a word. This was new. So very new. None of this so far would even be in the film. Why would he bother?

He tugs at one of the strings and watches as your robe falls open, revealing the bare skin beneath, no modesty garments in place at all this time around.

He sucks in a breath, letting his gaze stare shamelessly at your exposed breasts. He leans forward and kisses each one softly. It’s a tender, gentle touch that you wouldn’t have expected from a co-star doing his job. “Hugh…”

He hums, his lips still grazing over your chest with no rest.

“Why are you… Do you need to tell me something?” you ask softly.

Hugh takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks softly, swirling his tongue around it in a curious motion before pulling back, looking up at you in an expression of dropped reserve. All his honesty was going to come out. You could tell from the look on his face. He didn’t even hesitate, simply looked at you, his eyes flicking from one of your eyes to the other, down to your lips, and then back up again—a smooth, triangular motion. “Perhaps I’m very fond of you and have been purposefully hiding it.”

“Perhaps?”

“I am very fond of you and have been purposefully hiding it,” he says with a tone of finality, as if that explains everything. And in a way, it does. The secret glances you’ve shared over the months of filming together, the careful, tender touches and holds at red carpets and promo interviews, the flirtatious joking and banter… You wrote everything off as friendly, but it was more than that, wasn’t it?

Hugh slides the robe off your shoulders and lets it fall to the floor with a nearly-soundless landing. Completely exposed before him, you can’t help but feel a tad shy. Your eyes rake over Hugh’s shirtless, hairy chest and tight-fitting sweats that barely stop the hem of his boxers from peeking out above his waistline. He pulls you in closer, his fingers trailing up from the back of your leg to your waist to your stomach to your breasts to your neck to your jaw, and then back down the same way they came.

You suck in a breath as two fingers follow the crease of where your upper thigh met groin. You stifle a small, but audible moan at the chills his fingers send through you.

He hums and moves his hands to rest on your hips once again. “Is that all it takes?”

Yes.

You gasp softly when Hugh’s grip on your hips tighten before he sets you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours, essentially caging you in. He pulls his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion, kicking them off like they did something to personally offend him. You feel his erection pressing against your leg and stiffen slightly.

He leans his head down quickly, but stops just above your face, his lips grazing over yours when he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you direly.”

Your heart skips a beat and it takes you a moment to register that he’s speaking lines from the script, back in character.

He kissed you then, hard and deep, his tongue claiming your mouth’s entrance as if it belonged there and couldn’t believe it had been away for so long. He pushes his body closer against yours, pinning you to the soft mattress as he pours all his pent-up desire and need into the kiss. It doesn’t take long for his lips to lose their way and explore other paths you have to offer. His mouth kisses along your jaw and neck, teeth grazing against your skin as he goes.

“Been dreamin’ of this,” he pants, his damn good false-American voice hoarse as he kisses along your collarbone now. “Dreamin’ of havin’ you again. Been drivin’ me mad every night in the trenches, doll.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back, your body arching under his touch. Every kiss felt like an invasion of privacy—but one you could very much live with. You needed to remember your lines. Come on. What was the damn line?

Right.

“You have no idea,” you gasp between kisses, his attack on your swollen lips refusing to relent even as you attempt to speak, “how many nights I’ve thought about this… About you. About us.”

He pushes a finger into your wet cunt without warning, as if rewarding you for remembering your lines so quickly this time. When had his hand even gone down there? He growls against your skin at the feel of your wetness around his finger, his free hand grasping your hip to bring you closer.

“I thought about it all the time,” he mutters, gently moving his finger back and forth in a slow pattern. His voice is ragged as he kisses along your jaw. “Thought about you, how you felt under me, how you sounded when I touched you… I was going insane with it.”

You gasp slightly between pants, but he barely lets you catch your breath before his lips are back on yours. He pulls his finger out abruptly, running it down your side, leaving a wet trail in his wake.

“Couldn’t get you out of my head,” he whispers, his voice still rough. His hand slams down against the space of mattress beside your head, a temporary loss of temper on display. Right. This is his character, you remind yourself. “Damn it, doll, I fuckin’ need you. I need to feel you, to taste you… I need you to be mine again. Fuck the war, fuck the politics… I can’t be without you tonight. Just for tonight.”

You nod softly, the action causing your lips to separate from his. He takes the opportunity to kiss over your closed eyelid and then the top of your head—an unscripted act that leaves your face burning. “I cease to exist without you near me.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can even begin by wrapping your legs around his hips, an unscripted act to counterattack his. He groans as he feels your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer to you. The feeling of having your thighs on either side of him, the soft flesh squishing against his hip bones, has his head spinning. He smirks against your lips, realizing his mistake but not stopping. What’s one line missed, anyway?

His hand moves down to his cock and you bite down on your bottom lip as you feel him line himself up with your entrance. Things had escalated so quickly that it had your brain reeling. Hugh leans down so his head is right beside your ear. He whispers just loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for post-production to be able to remove his out-of-character question with barely any trouble: “Is this okay?”

“I need you, Ces,” you respond, using his character’s name and hoping he’ll understand your line as an affirmative answer.

He captures your lips in a fierce kiss as he pushes into you, slow enough to give you time to both adjust and choose to back out if needed. His body involuntarily shudders at the sensation. He groans into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

“Fuck,” he gasps breathlessly, his voice hoarse and rough.

You whimper softly, the feeling of being so filled up in a way you haven’t ever experience before leaving you making a string of pathetic, soft, unscripted noises. He rubs slow circles against your hip bone with his thumb, coaxing your body into a non-tense state.

He starts to move when your body relaxes, his strokes slow and firm, his body seeking more of you. He craves you, needs you, wants to please you utterly. No amount of acting could hide how real that feeling was for him.

He pulls back slightly so he can look at your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you struggle to keep up, your breathing uneven and your brain all jumbled. You were trying so desperately to hold onto the parts of this that needed you to be an actress, but the parts that were all too real were threatening to take over.

“Look at me,” Hugh whispers, his voice low and strained with his own pleasure, his hips still rocking back and forth against yours, though slower now so as to give you some room to think. “I want to see you. I want to see how much you’ve missed this, darlin’. How much you’ve been achin’ for me, like I’ve been achin’ for you.”

That last line wasn’t in the script and you noticed that immediately. It was, however, in the book. The thought that the Hugh Jackman had read the novel before starring in the adaptation sent a shiver of affection down your spine. It was more than just lust. You wanted him bad. In more ways than one.

You open your eyes, Hugh’s face slowly blurring back into focus. The look on your face, the way you looked at him with such desperate need as you bit down a soft moan, your nails digging into the flesh of his arm, makes his heart pound. He captures your lips again, his kiss harsh as he swallows the involuntary moan you’re forced to let out.

You know there’s another line you have to deliver—and soon. But you can’t remember it. Your brain is a fuzzy mess as he picks up the pace a bit, pushing you further into the mattress. A particularly hard thrust—the motion like a punishment for your forgetfulness—has you gasp into his mouth and he groans in response.

I want you to forget the war when you’re with me. Let me take that away.

Those were her next lines. All she had to do was say them. Why couldn’t she?

Hugh thrusts into her faster now, as if chasing his own release and forgetting the matter at hand.

That’s why.

“I want—”

He swallows whatever you were going to say with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth all over again. So much for getting all your lines in. He doesn’t want to hear you say anything right now. He just wants to hear the sounds you make so he can commit them to memory in case this never happens again.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss, his eyes dark and intense. “Say my name, dollface. Say it.”

Your head falls back and like a dog to a bone, his mouth connects with your neck in an instant.

“Mmm— Hugh…”

He smirks against your neck before moving his face down and biting softly on your shoulder. “Wrong one… They’ll edit that out, love.”

She catches her mistake, the bite on her shoulder serving as a snap back to reality. Or, more accurately, a snap back to her acting responsibilities as a maker of cinematic illusions. “Ces… Fuck— You feel so good…”

A shudder of desire runs through him as he hears your unscripted compliment. It does everything to him to know that he’s successfully making you feel good. He’s making you feel good. He presses a bruising kiss to your neck.

“Just like that, doll,” he says, his voice a rough whisper. “Tell me how good it feels…”

“S-So good,” she mumbles, her words barely coherent enough to make it into a decent movie. “Mmm— Like that…”

He feels your hands move up to the muscles of his tense, flexed bottom, your fingers digging into the flesh and dragging him closer, letting him fuck you at a deeper level. The pain of your nails in his skin only adds to the pleasure, and he’s nearly driven mad by it. It’s almost more than he can take. “Yeah? Like this?”

You nod and he moves faster, his hips slamming into yours now in a steady, primal rhythm. He’s consumed by it, the feeling, the pleasure, the utter need to have you as his, even if temporarily. He bites at your neck, your shoulder, his body giving itself to yours with every thrust.

“I’m yours, pretty. This… Everything…” he pants, punctuating each word with a deep stroke. “I’m all yours if you’ll have me forever. The war does not own me, you do.”

You’re momentarily stunned by his ability to improvise such in-character lines. The fan in you who loved the book when it was released is impressed and somewhat proud. Even with your mind a cloudy mess, you still manage to have your heart swell with admiration.

He kisses you again, hard and deep, his tongue pushing across your bottom lip before entering your mouth. He’s so eager with it that his teeth knock against yours multiple times as his tongue finds your own. “I’m never letting you go.”

“I’m never allowing you to,” you pant into his mouth.

The need, the want, within him reaches new heights. He grips your hips harder, his thrusts becoming rougher and more primal. It was like his self-control was aggressively and hatefully tossed out the fake window of the set. His hands let go of her hips, leaving behind a stinging sensation that will surely turn to bruises, and move up to the headboard behind her. You think you’re fully at his mercy now, but, really, he’s at your mercy. Completely and irrevocably. And damn if that doesn’t drive the both of you absolutely crazy.

You reach up towards the headboard in order to adjust yourself, but he stops you, wanting you to remain where you were.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” he whispers quickly, finding the right angle so he can drive into you with the headboard as his support. He holds onto the wood so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

You let out a moan, louder than before. His cock twitches inside you in response, a clear sign of his enjoyment of the sound. “You like this, don’t you?” he pants.

Your head falls back, exposing your neck to him. He all but moans at the sight. He releases one hand from the headboard and finds his way to your throat, gripping it just tight enough to make you gasp. He leans down and kisses your lips the softest he ever has—a stark contrast to his actions. “I love you, dollface. I love you, I love you, I love you…”

You look him in the eyes as he says these lines, wondering if fiction ever does blur with reality. If so, when was that point for you two? Have you gotten there yet?

Your eyes shut on their own accord and it nearly sends him over the edge. His grip around your throat tightens as he nears his orgasm and he forces himself to let go so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you.

You cup his face, your thumb brushing across his bottom lip. “Keep going, Hugh… Don’t stop…”

He groans at the sound of his real name in your mouth. The feel of your hands on his face, the words leaving her lips… it all sends a shiver of desire down his spine and his cock twitches involuntarily.

“Oh, God, I’m so close…” you mumble between pants, completely off-script. “Please, don’t stop.”

The sound of your pleading, you saying you’re close, nearly makes him come right then and there. His movements become more frantic and desperate. Erratic, even. His words come out in low whispers, as if they were reserved for her and not the camera. “I’ve got you. I’m gonna give you what you need.”

In a few seconds, you’re completely falling apart below him, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You had no life jacket and the ocean had no mercy.

“Fuck, that’s it…” he groans as he watches you come and tighten around his cock.

Your wave of ecstasy pushes him to the brink, his own climax hitting him like a ton of heavy-hitting bricks. He groans and shudders against her, his body warm and damp.

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath. You smell of sex and sweat and everything you decide you’re strangely okay with.

“I think… I think you missed a few lines,” Hugh says, still panting slightly.

You smile at the joke, your chest rising and falling quickly, but beginning to slow down. “Maybe we’ll have to re-do it.”

“What a bloody shame.”

You grin and he pushes forward to kiss your lips without warning—the quick, sudden contact all the proof of his need for you that will remain long after the director will someday soon yell the final “Cut!” for this little film.

#hugh jackman #oneshot #smut #wolverine #fanfic

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