#deadpool x m!reader

[shockedemojiatsv]

M reader breeding deadpool with so much cum? 😩

▪︎■☆One More, Please☆■▪︎

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ amab!bot!Deadpool / amab!dom!reader

☆ short-ish

☆ sorry for the delay~~ again-....

°○☆NSFW under the cut☆○°

"Holy- fucking– SHIT" Wade sobs. Your fingers having to stuff his mouth to get him to shut up because goddamn is he loud! And you're not planning on getting yelled at by your land lady by tomorrow.

It's not his fault, really. Not when you have your dick buried inside him. Warm and wet and Jesus christ, whyd you have to be so big? Your cock was rubbing up against spots he never knew he thought would still work like it used to. He's not complaining, not at all. When he pushes his ass to get a little more of your girth inside of him. Slamming his prostate repeatedly in the process. Wade's cock rutting against the sheets, in rhythm to your own rough movements.

He's panting like a dog with half of his face buried into the pillow. Screaming like a little bitch even with your fingers seldomly choking him. ("Just the way he liked it" Wade reassures you beforehand almost all the time).

The more you move the more he feels another wave, euphoria crashing down like a 7.0 magnitude of an earthquake. He shivers when he cums. Screams while having a death grip on the poor poor sheets. Coating the material in his liquid again. And again... and again... you had the stamina, he had the sex drive. The 4th time he cums, you joined him in harmony. Filling him to the brim again. And a certain amount also flowing out of his hole and sliding down his thighs.

When your dick leaves his cum stuffed body, Wade shivers when he feels even more of your fluids drip down his thighs and onto the sheets. Trying to use the rest of his energy to bring his ass even higher and present himself to you.

"Cmon... one more one more pretty pleaseeee" He'll whine. Just like last time. He isn't stopping until either of you tap out.

[marvellover76]

Mobius: Please tell me you didn't drag Wade into this.

Y/n: I didn't drag Wade into this.

*knock on the door*

Loki: Who's that?

Y/n: I think you already know.

[skylarinfinity]

[deadpool m/n walking around new york with lorna but stop when they see avengers fight hydra]

deadpool m/n: [pull lorna with him and start running towards wanda] that emo sokovian girl, she your sister!

lorna: [pull her hand away from deadpool m/n] dude, i don't have any siblings!

deadpool m/n: [ignore her and shout at wanda] hey sokovian girl, emo girl, mummy- this is your sister! her name lorna! [pointing at lorna like crazy person]

wanda: [glare at deadpool m/n] i don't have another siblings accept pietro.

deadpool m/n: yeah, marvel fuck that one up again [shrugs]

wanda and lorna: what?

author note even if they make lorna and wanda sibling in mcu they just going to kill lorna just so wanda can go insane 😐

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket

[cristinatheloser]

One thing about me is I’m reading a fic whether or not I’ve watched the show/movie that the certain character has been in! Am I confused half of the time? Yes, but is the character and plot line immaculate?Yes

[dpimagines]

The Sharpest Lives; Wade Wilson (feat. Nathan Summers) – Part 4 of 5

Sorry this took so long. It's actually been done for months at this point, but I didn't think part 5 was gonna be the last part and wanted to have six at least started before I published another chapter.

Same trigger warnings as past chapters. Let me know if I need to add any.

tag list: @peculiar-persephone @fuckyouandtheboatyoucamein @yomama-umbridge @dee-vn @ghostlyvenus-selfships

“Y/N, Y/N… Y/N, c’mon… Fuck, why d’ya gotta be so fucking cute when you’re asleep?” 

“You think I’m cute?” you sleepily mumble. Yesterday slowly seeps back into your memory. “Can- Can I please have-“

“Breakfast first,” he says. 

“That is breakfast,” you whine in protest.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Made a phone call. Cinnamon rolls with extra icing, right?”

“Phone call? To-“

“Xavier’s.”

You jolt, suddenly fully awake.

“They’re gonna be looking for me now.”

“They already were, at Wade’s request. They’ve stopped because they know you’re with your other soulmate.” 

“Can’t wait for that news to get back to him,” you scoff. 

“Eat,” he insists. “Quickly, we have a problem.”

He points to the TV. Wade and some kid you realize has to be Russell are going to…

“Oh, fuck!” you leap up from the bed, scarfing down a couple of the cinnamon rolls before heading to the bathroom. You frantically search for a spare toothbrush, giving up and settling for a few rounds of mouthwash. You steal some of his deodorant before heading back to the room and throwing on your bra and jeans from yesterday. “Sorry I slept in so late, I-“

“You really didn’t, it’s only ten,” he reassures you. “We’ve just got shit to do.” 

“Yeah, we gotta get them out, you should’ve gotten me up sooner!” 

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?” you ask. 

“My first priority is killing Edward Fredricksen.”

“That’s your soulmate, and that kid will just end up killing somebody else’s family if we don’t help him,” you argue. 

“Fuck, are you always this right all the time?” He sounds like he’s complaining, but you take it as a compliment. You put your boots back on.

“Let’s go,” you say. 

“I would’ve let you sleep longer if I knew you’d be ready this fast,” he mumbles, and you realize he’s still sorting through his weapons. He settles for one particularly large gun, as well as a couple of pistols he keeps holstered. 

“It’s an emergency, of course I didn’t dawdle,” you reply. “Better get something for Wade, too.”

“What would he like?”

“Probably what you’ve got strapped to your back… Would settle for anything, though. He’s resourceful.” 

“Got it,” he says, putting on a thigh holster and sliding an additional handgun in there. “Let’s go. Wait, you- Never mind…”

“What?”

“Was gonna ask if you needed a weapon. Dumb question.”

“You were smart enough to catch yourself,” you remind him, taking his hand and pulling him out of the motel room. He locks the door behind you both and you head out. 

The drive to the prison is strategy talk, mostly Nathan insisting you hang back while you insist you take the lead.

“I can handle it!” you shout at the same time, and despite your bickering, you both laugh. 

“I’m serious, anybody who gets in our way will be fucking confetti,” you promise. “And maybe a few more of those pigs while I’m at it!”

“Same here,” he argues. “I almost don’t even wanna bring you, it’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll just drink some of Wade’s blood if I get hurt,” you remind him. “I’ll be alright.”

“Just stay behind me until you see him, okay?”

“Ugh, you’re not budging.” 

“Me budging is you being here in the first place. If I had it my way, you’d still be asleep!”

“You’re sweet, Nathan, but… I’ve survived this long, give me some credit.”

He groans. 

“You shouldn’t have to… He-”

“Not his fault. My, uh… My father’s kinda the one who got me into this life. Powers manifested early, and even once Xavier’s found me… He would take me out for the weekend and… Well, the folks down at Sister Margaret’s, they didn’t take too kindly to some mutie stealing all the jobs. I explained the situation, though, and they-” You chuckle. “They were like fucking coyotes, man. Ripped him to pieces.”

“I was wondering why they seemed to be sorta… Different. That kinda place, don’t really expect them to take too kindly to women. Guess they have a bit of a soft spot for you, watching you grow up and all that.”

He sounds almost envious. You suppose if he was from this time, maybe he’d have been a regular there. Perhaps he wishes he was the one to save you, to dry your tears and keep you safe as you got older, not pushing you or grooming you but preparing you for the future. Holding you through the pain of what Wade was going through, maybe preventing him from going through it in the first place.

But that’s just not how things are. 

You arrive at the prison, and you’re already dropping the outer layer of guards. You watch their helmets pop off of their exploding heads like the lids of glass soda bottles. 

Pop, pop, pop…

“Don’t wear yourself out,” Nathan nervously chuckles.

“Just getting warmed up,” you chirp. 

“Damn, that is really…”

“Terrifying?”

“I was trying to find a classier way to say sexy,” he mumbles. 

“Aw, really? Thank you! Let’s head in.” You grab his hand, pulling him along eagerly. 

He uses explosives to create an… Alternative entrance. He scans the inside before running off. 

“Hey! Hey! Not all of us have a sixth sense!” you cry out, annoyed at being left behind. A guard rushes you both, and you put him down, opting for all the blood to leave his brain instead of the other way around. 

“Bionic eye,” Nathan corrects. You continue to take down the guards, working outwards from you both until there’s none left in sight. “So much for hanging back.”

“You’re too slow, old man,” you snark in return, but you take his hand. 

“Weren’t you the one struggling to keep up before?”

“That’s just ‘cause I was still getting warmed up. I told you.” 

“Y/N M/N!” Wade scolds, striding over with Russell in tow. 

“That’s pretty. M/N. That’s one of the names I had on the list for Hope. Aaliyah vetoed it, though,” Nathan mumbles to you, and you smile. 

“And who’s this?!”

“Who do you think?” you retort, and Wade shrinks a little, before putting on his mask. Not the literal one, but the cocky, humorous facade. 

“Hot damn,” Wade sighs. “That’s a lot of cream for your twinkie.” 

Nathan’s resting scowl intensifies as he glares at Wade.

“Wade Wilson, nice to meet you,” Wade snaps out of his fantasies to introduce himself, extending a hand. Nathan shakes it, still glaring.

“Nathan Summers.” 

“Y’know, I always thought I wasn’t the best fit for somebody with daddy issues. You make a lot of sense.”

“I could say the same thing,” you scoff, thinking of Wade’s own problems with his father. 

“I’d say you fit the role pretty well, too, seeing as you ran off when things got hard,” Nathan snarls. You let go of his hand, hurt. “Oh, no, doll, I didn’t mean you.” He reclaims your hand. 

“Doll?! What are you-“

“46,” Nathan stops him, but he can’t help but snicker. 

“Uh, guys? What exactly is going on here?” Russell asks. 

“I’m gonna kill your old headmaster and you’re gonna go to Xavier’s to enjoy the rest of your childhood,” you dryly inform him. 

“Oh… Okay.”

“Solid plan, except for the part where you kill somebody!” Wade squeals. 

“Are you kidding? I just killed countless people to get to you, and I already accepted the job from Weasel. That headmaster guy has a crazy high bounty on his head.”

“I don’t like it when you kill people,” Wade insists. 

“Then you’re a fuckin’ hypocrite!” Nathan argues. “She’s good at it, and it’s what she wants to do!” 

“It’s dangerous!” 

“She’s dangerous!” 

That shuts Wade up. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. Having seen you at your most vulnerable, he forgets what you’re capable of. It’s about time he had a reminder. 

“Let’s get outta here, guys,” you remind them, making your great escape. 

When you get back to the hotel room, you sit at a stool at the small counter near the kitchenette. Nathan plunks down beside you. 

“You know, what you did in there… I never doubted you, but damn. You’re one hell of a woman.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply, after giggling at his compliment. 

You feel something hot bubble up in your stomach. Jealousy. You both turn to Wade. 

“I’m sorry, would you not feel a little jealous if some silver fox daddy just strolled in and started chatting me up?!”

“Uh, there’s a child present,” you remind him. 

“I don’t even know what half of that meant,” Russell mumbles, and you crack up a little.

“Good,” you say, stepping down from the stool and approaching him. You crouch down to meet his level; he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “What do you like to watch?”

“Watch?” 

“Y’know, on TV?” you clarify.

“They let us watch Disney movies, sometimes, if we’re good… But they usually end up turning those off before we’re even halfway through. They say they have bad themes about rebelling against authority.”

“Let’s see what’s on,” you chirp. “Or, uh, here…” You open up the Disney+ app on your phone. “Pick whatever you want off of here and just play it. All the Disney movies you could ever want are on there. If you get bored of that, let me know. I’ve got other apps with movies and stuff.”

“Really?” Russell has so much hope and fear in his eyes. You can’t wait to get him to Xavier’s.

“Really,” you confirm, and he grins. You squeeze his shoulder gently before turning back to your soulmates. “So, I guess our next step is to take him to Xavier’s. They should be able to pick him up from here. Is it okay if I give them our location, Nathan?”

He nods. 

“Cool, I’ll text Ellie,” you tell them both. “But, uh, I’m gonna let him finish at least one movie, first.”

“I’ll text her,” Wade offers. 

“Awesome,” you say. “Could you check the news while you’re at it? See if they got our faces or Nathan’s truck?”

“On it,” he replies. 

“What can I do?” Nathan asks. 

“Just keep standing there and looking handsome,” you flirt, and he gets a good chuckle out of that. You sit next to Russell. “Ooh, I love this movie. Here, let’s sit against the headboard, I’ll hold the phone.”

You pull out your Popsocket, and the boy’s eyes are the size of golfballs. He’d been carefully clutching each side of the device. 

You keep the phone perched between your fingers as Beauty and the Beast unfolds. A rollaway bed is rolled in, and you suppose a retrieval team from Xavier’s won’t be coming until morning. 

“The prince’s beast form was more handsome,” Russell complains. 

“I agree,” you reply. “Wanna watch another?”

He yawns. 

“Can I… Tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” you tell him. “Get some rest.”

Russell gets on the glorified cot, pulling the blankets on top of himself.

“Best we can do, kid. Sorry,” Nathan apologizes. 

“No, this is nice,” he insists. “At least it’s all mine, and-” Russell stops himself. “It’s good.”

Wade and Nathan look at the bed, you, and then each other. 

“If you two wanna quit your staring contest and get on the bed, that’d be nice. Just lay on either side of me if you two still hate each other, or whatever the fuck is going on.”

“I don’t hate him,” they say in unison, looking at each other with surprise. You scoff. They get into bed, and the three of you struggle with the twisted comforter until you’re all covered. 

You find yourself holding on to Wade’s arm, leg hitched up over his hip. Nathan spoons you, cheek pressed against your back. 

“Thanks for not, uh… Drinking any more of Francis’s blood today. I appreciate that,” he says softly. 

“I just got caught up in everything and forgot. I’m… I’m sorry for the stuff I said yesterday,” you reply at the same volume. 

“It wasn’t you. It was him.”

“Getting some of his traits doesn’t mean I’m not responsible. That’s like someone blaming alcohol for the shitty things they say and do while drunk,” you remind him. 

“It’s okay, honeybun. Do you need to hear me say I forgive you? Because I do, I did as it was happening. I love you,” he promises. 

“I love you, too, Wade.” You start to feel a little guilty about what happened with Francis. 

“Who’d you kill, baby?” he asks. “You didn’t think I didn’t know, did you? I know they deserved it. Whatever they said, or did, it… Hurt. A lot.” 

“It was Francis,” you admit, starting to tear up. 

“Oh, that’s it?”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’ve been telling you to let me get rid of him for ages. I would’ve preferred it be me to do it, but, hey. It’s okay. What did he say to you?” 

“He said… It’s not important now,” you say quietly.

His other hand reaches around, messing with your hair. 

“It bothered you, that makes it important.”

“He said a lot of shit. But, uh, what made me lose my temper…” You sigh. “He said you loved her more, and that that’s why I let her die.” 

Wade’s hand leaves you, curling into a fist. You feel his frustration course through you. Nathan holds you tighter. He drops his hand, letting it rest on his stomach. 

“That sick fuck. That’s not even remotely true, you know that, right?”

You nod, but survivor’s guilt still boils inside of you. 

“It’s not. That fucking asshole, I wish we could bring him back just to kill him again.” 

“You two. As much as I appreciate that you’re having this sorely needed heart-to-heart, we’ve got a big day tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep,” Nathan reminds you both. Just the word “sleep” makes your eyelids feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” Wade agrees. “It’s not true. It’s not true at all. None of it. Fucking piece of fucking-” Wade sighs. “I’m so glad you’re alright. Physically, I mean.” 

You yawn, afterwards nuzzling your way into a cozy spot against Wade’s shoulder. 

“It can only get better from here,” you mumble. 

[boozenboze]

Merc With A Mouth Meets Sexy Men

Tf 141 x Deadpool!Male reader

Summary: Watch as the the Task Force captures yours truly and gets me the join them. Damn that Captain has some rizz in him.

Disclaimer- There will be dialogue from the movies and comics

Females She/Her and She/They DNI

M/n was seated on the highway railing while doing some art. He kicked his legs back and forth, he looked like a child.

"Hey I don't look like a child!" The male said while turning his attention the

"Oh.. .Oh well hello! I know right, who’s balls did I have to fondle to be here?” M/n said as he chuckled.

"Can’t say it, but.....it does rhyme with polverine.” I said as I look back over at the traffic.

“I do at the moment have places to be, a face to fix, and oooooh!” I said as I looked at the oncoming vehicle. “Bad guys to kill!” The man in red in black said as he stood.

“Maximum effort!” The masked male said as he jumped off the railing and into the sun roof of the car. Off the bat one guy tried to shoot him but I headbutted him. I grabbed his face and slammed it into the window behind him. My boot collided with the guy in the fronts face.

“Cock shot!” I said as I hit another guy in the balls. I threw one of the guys out of the trunk and I heard him screaming, funny. I leaned to the front and I pulled out a piece of paper, as he turned to face me as I said.

“Have you seen this man.” The photo contained a beautiful drawing by yours truly. The guy grabbed my head before slamming it into the radio.

“Ow...ow....ow”

“Ok time to cause some trouble.” I muttered to myself as I grabbed the guys wrist

(Pov switch)

“A little bit further.” Price instructed as the team made their way down the highway. The ride had been going smoothly, but the traffic build up only made the eldest a bit frustrated.

"What the hell..." Gaz said as he looked up at a car go up in the air, a motorcyclists being given a wedgie. It felt like time slowed as the others looked with wide eyes. The cars ahead of them swerved in order to not be part of the accident. Gaz did the same thing for the same reason and Ghost grunted. The four of them got out the car and watched as the men in black who were still standing pointed their guns at a car.

"What the hell is goin on here?" Soap asked as someone popped their head out of the car.

"Hey!" The voice said as the man said as he immediately had gunshots thrown at him.

"Wait-hold up, you may be wondering why the red suit. Well thats so bad guys don't see me bleed." The man explained as Gaz couldn't help but chuckle at the comment.

"That guys got the right idea, he wore the brown pants!" The man pointed at the man in question which led to more gunfire.

"Ok-fine! I only have 12 bullets so your gonna have to share!." Price grabbed his gun in case things got worse.

"Hold on didn't Laswell say that there was a guy that we had to look for." Gaz asked as Price ducked under a car due to the bullets being sent towards them. Price pulled out the small paper that Laswell had given them which had a short description on the guy they've been looking for.

"M/n L/n...ex Special Forces and dishonorable discharge." Price read aloud as the others gave each other a look. Soap looked at the paper that had a small picture of what the man looked like, well it wasn't a picture of his face but it was what he wore. The same man that was currently wreaking havoc was the guy that they had been sent to look for....Again

“We’re seriously being sent after this this prick again.” Soap muttered to himself, disappointed that they were going after the same guy.

The bridge was silent at this point as the mans voice boomed threw the silence.

"Oh Francis!~" The man said happily as he bumped the car door with his hip as he skipped over to the man who had a katana lodged into his shoulder. The male flicked the grip on the blade and watched it wiggle.

"Now i'm about to show you what did to music in the late 90’s” I reeled my arm back but my hand touched something hard. I touched around it before realizing.

“Dad?” I asked only for whover this giant was to lift me up and throw me over his shoulder.

“Well this isn’t the family reunion I hoped for.” I said teasingly as I eyed the two buns that were in my face. My intrusive thoughts are telling me to just.

“Hehe. Nice ass you got there buddy, seems like somebody’s been doing their squats.” I said as the man grunted before he begsn walking.

“H-hey! What are you doing I need answers from him.” I said while pointing at the man who fucked up my face.

“Shut up your annoying.” The big guy told me with a....British accent. Thats hot. Damnit Francis gonna get away now i’ll have to get another plan.

Timeskip

Thud

Thud

Thud

“Can you stop!” Price yelled, getting tired of the mercs constant headbanging on the table. The man in red and black squinted at the older man before sighing dramatically.

“Come on sugar you’re boring me here. Can’t we do something fun.” I asked as the man huffed at my comment.

“Hey, you and your guys are the ones who chose to take me... again....you can’t get mad at me.” I said defensive as the man sighed. Price looked at me with a deadpanned expression.

“M/n....we’ve come up with a proposal. Join the Task Force, it would be good for you.” Price said to me as I sighed out of boredom. Can this dilf stop with this same dialogue. At this rate his voice is gonna break me!

“How many times are you gonna tell me this! Seriously just give up already.” I complained as Price leaned in and stared at me. Is he trying to make me cum from staring into my soul...kinky.

“Listen, I believe you this job is fit for you because, well.....your you.” Well ain’t that nice of him to say.

“Ok.... I still don’t believe i’m "Task Force" material but...what am I getting out of this.” I asked while putting on my ‘thinking face’. The other man sighed while running a hand through his hair.

“We’ll help you find a cure for your face and we’ll give you a high rank.” Price said thinking that would make me agree.

“And....?”

“We’ll all take you on a date-”

“Deal!”

Side note-There will be another part or 2

[mlm-writer]

Daddy/Dearest (Wade Wilson x M!Reader)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Alien!Cis!M!Reader  Rating: Mature (lowest I can go with a Deadpool fic) Words: 1048 POV: Third Summary: You matched with Deadpool on the intergalactic dating app Starcrossed. After exchanging many dick pics, you decided to visit Earth for your first date... and blow the planet up if the date sucked. Note: Inspired by the song Party Tonight by Joe Hedourix and this prompt. Tags: first date, fluff, idk who Nick Fury really is tbh, 4th wall breaks, romcom and reader’s appearance is a little vague but at some point I started imagining Megamind

“Deadpool! Open up!” Wade groaned at the insistent knocking on his door. He tried to rub his eyes, only to find out that he was still wearing his mask. A quick look down revealed he had fallen asleep on the couch in his PJs. The knocking at his door stopped, so he rested his body on the couch. He had barely closed his eyes, when the door was knocked down. 

He raised his head with a groan, only to be incredibly surprised by his guest. “Wow, Nick Fury, I am not sure if I am even supposed to know who you are, because the writer has seen exactly one movie in which you had a cat, but he supposes you’re an important dude or whatever.” 

“Shut it, motherfucker,” the man wearing a black trenchcoat barked back at Wade. He clearly took note of the dirty white shirt with a butt on it and the blue chequered underwear Wade was wearing, but he did not comment on it. “Do you know the app Starcrossed?” 

Wade laughed, not reading the room that had been filled with armoured men and women because we are inclusive here and women can and will kick your ass if provoked. 

“That app with all the metas on it? Why? Did we match? I’m sorry if I did not reply, but you’re not really my type and you must have been an accidental swipe.” 

“Stop yapping! Does this guy look familiar to you?” From his pocket he unfolded a picture printed on an A4 paper. Wade leaned in and squinted at the picture. He did recognise the person on it. 

“Oh yes that’s my daddy - not my father - but like a sexual daddy you know. You should see his dick.” Nick looked like he was gonna lose it. Wade could tell, but he frankly did not give a shit. 

“Well, your ‘daddy’ is the leader of an alien race, whose armada is in orbit right now to drop him off for a ‘date’ with you. So get dressed, because whether we get blown up or not today is apparently up to you.” That was a lot to take in, but Wade was used to weird days and this was simply just another one of them. 

Now it was common to be nervous for a first date, but the fully armed SWAT team dropping Wade off was not helping. He tried making conversation with them, but they seemed to blame him for possible annihilation before dinner time. 

When he stepped out of the chopper, there was a masculine figure waiting in front of the former military base. He held a large bouquet of iridescent flowers. They seemed either fake or from an alien planet. “Wadey!” The figure called out, waving frantically with all hands that were not holding the bouquet. The inhuman coloured skin seemed to change colour wherever the late morning sun was directly shining on it. 

“Hi daddy,” Wade called back in the same cooing tone. He skipped over to his date. “Are those for me?” He mused, knowing the answer as his date handed them to him. 

“I heard flowers are quite common to bring to a Terran date, so I brought some rare flowers from my planet for you. I am afraid they will not survive as long as they would on my planet though. The sun here is weak.” Wade smelled the flowers. They smelled like butt. Could be worse. At least Wade was familiar with the smell of butt. Wade held the flowers close as he thanked the other for them. “Well then, shall we? Your government was so kind to help me set up an Earth-date.” 

The atmosphere was… weird. There was a very extensive brunch on a beautifully decorated table, but they were surrounded by people keeping them at gunpoint. “You don’t seem bothered by being held at gunpoint,” Wade noted as he rolled up his mask just far enough to shove a croissant into his mouth. 

“Likewise,” his date smirked back at him. He reached out and touched the edges of the mask. “Come on, I already know your dick and ass are covered in scars. Your face cannot possibly scare me.” Wade thought about it. Well, his identity was not really a secret right now anyway. They already knew where he lived. Wade lifted his mask off his face, trying to not show how insecure he was about his fucked up face. However, when he looked at the alien before him, he swore he could see a hunger in his eyes. “If these people were not around, I would fuck your face right now,” the man sighed dreamily, before continuing to clumsily trying to spread butter on a piece of toast. 

Wade reached out and decided to help him. Their fingers briefly touched and Wade saw the other man smile at the contact. It set his body on fire with desire. “I frankly don’t care about the audience, but after writing all those kinktober fics the writer can really use a break from blowjob scenes, so let’s keep this from being E-rated.”

Wade sat back down after buttering his date’s toast. He watched as the alien’s facial features reacted to the taste of Earth food. “Fascinating,” he spoke softly. Wade chatted with his date and those mesmerising eyes and charming smile kept drawing him in. At some point he was sure even Nick Fury could smell his arousal from wherever he was keeping an eye on the situation. There was no more food left, when his date rose from his seat and offered one of his hands. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Wade grabbed his mask and put it back on. “We’ll have to fight our way out of here if we want to do that.” A corona of blue light started surrounding the alien, a devilish smile appearing on his face. The sudden display of power got people loading their guns and Wade’s gun filling up with blood really quickly. 

“Do not worry, dearest, that can be arranged,” the most powerful being that had ever held him spoke, before he blasted a hole in the line of armed people, lighting the way to their future in a flurry of blue. “Let’s have a good time, dearest.”

[squippy360]

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Sub!Steve x Dom!Male reader

Steve x male reader x Clint

Steve x male reader x Clint

Steve x male reader x Clint

Steve x male reader x Clint

Sub!Steve x Dom!M/n

Dom!Steve x Sub!M/n

Sub!Steve x Dom!M/n

Principal!Steve x Sub!M/n

Principal!Steve x Sub!M/n

Principal!Steve x Sub!M/n x ???

Stucky x male reader

DarkDom!Steve x SlaveSub!M/n

DarkDom!Steve x SlaveSub!M/n part 2

DarkDom!Steve x SlaveSub!M/n alternate ending

DarkDom!Steve x SlaveSub!M/n Steve's ending

DarkDom!Steve x SlaveSub!Male reader Final

Steve x Tony x Bucky x M/n

Stucky x DarkDom!Male reader

Stucky x DarkDom!Male reader

Steve x P**nstar M/n

Steve x Merman!Reader fluff

Steve x Merman!Reader smut

Steve x Bucky x Natasha x Wanda x Male reader x Tony

Steve x Bucky x Sam x M/n

Cold!Steve Rogers x Hot!Male Reader x Cold!Bucky Barnes

Sub!Steve x Dom!Male reader x Sub!Bucky

Sub!Steve rogers x Dom!Male reader

Bucky Barnes

Bucky x male reader smut

SoftDom!Bucky x SoftSub!M/n

Stucky x Male Reader

Steve x Tony x Bucky x M/n

Bucky x Blind!M/n

Stucky x DarkDom!M/n

Bucky x Steve x Sam x M/n

Cold!Steve Rogers x Hot!Male Reader x Cold!Bucky Barnes

ShySub!Bucky Barnes x Dom!Male reader

DarkDom!Bucky Barnes x SlaveSub!Male Reader

Sub!Steve x Dom!male reader x Sub!Bucky

Really dark dom!Winter soldier x Slave!Male Reader

Loki Laufeyson

SoftSub!Loki x GentleDom!M/n

Little!loki x Caregiver!Male reader

Dom!Loki x Sub!Male Reader

Thor Odinson

Sub!Thor x male reader

Tiny!M/n x Dom!Thor

Tiny!M/n x Dom!Thor

Peter quill

Sub!Peter x Dom!Male reader

Peter Parker

SoftSub!Peter Parker x SoftDom!Male reader

Sub!Peter Parker x Dom!Male reader

Sub!Peter x Male Reader x Sub!Tony

Andrew Garfield peter parker x Male reader

Peter parker x Monster!Male Reader

Peter parker x Monster!Male reader

Dom!Male Reader x Sub!Peter Parker

Clint Barton

Steve x male reader x Clint

Steve x male reader x Clint

Steve x male reader x Clint

Steve x male reader x Clint

Clint Barton x SoftDom!Male Reader

Sub!Clint barton x Dom!Male reader

Vision

coming soon...

Stephen Strange

Dom!Stephen Strange x Sub Femboy!Male reader

Tony Stark

Sub!Tony x Dom!M/n

Powerbottom!Tony x M/n

Steve x Tony x Bucky x M/n

Tony x Slave M/n

Sub!Tony x Male reader x Sub!Peter

Principal!Steve x Male Reader x Principal!Tony

Sub!Tony Stark x Dom!male reader

Scott Lang

coming soon...

Bruce Banners

coming soon...

Natasha Romanoff

Wanda x M/n x Natasha

Carol x M/n x Natasha x Wanda

Carol x M/n x Natasha x Wanda

Natasha x Bucky x Tony x Steve x Wanda x Male reader

Natasha x Femboy Male reader

Wanda Maximoff

Wanda x M/n x Natasha

Carol x M/n x Natasha x Wanda

Carol x M/n x Natasha x Wanda

Wanda x Natasha x male reader x Tony x Steve x Bucky

Natasha x Femboy male reader

Carol Danvers

Carol x M/n x Natasha x Wanda

Carol x M/n x Natasha x Wanda

Sam Wilson

Sam x Steve x Bucky x M/n

Wade Wilson

Deadpool x Male reader

Moon Knight

Marc x Monster reader x Steven

Venom/Eddie

Coming soon...

Others

Hypnosis kink scenarios

JARVIS X Femboy!Male areader

Jarvis x Male Reader

Anakin Skywalker x Little!Male Reader

König x Male reader

Celebrities

Chris Evans x DomTwink!Male Reader

Jensen ackles x Dom!Male reader

Jensen ackles x m/n

Sugar Daddy!Chris Evans x Sugar Baby!Male reader

DC

Sub!Clark Kent x Dom!Male Reader

Bottom Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

(please tell me if I'm missing something)

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I definitely think prompt 20 would fit deadpool so well

.⋆｡Merc With A Mouth ｡⋆.

Wade Wilson x plus size reader

There’s only one way to get Wade to shut up and it involves your own mouth

Warnings: some smut, oral (m receiving), swearing

WC: 443

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

Wade loved to talk. He could talk for literal days at a time without a break, he wouldn’t even be addressing anyone, just chattering away to himself. And you loved that about him, how passionate he was about things, but there were times when you just wanted him to shut the fuck up. 

And now was one of those times. 

Wade had been talking for a solid 5 hours. Well 5 hours that you knew of, considering that’s when you got home from work. You think you could stand the constant stream of word vomit if it had at least been consistent but Wade had been jumping from topic to topic too quickly for your exhausted mind to keep up. 

Your temples pounded with the beginnings of a migraine that was being compounded by your boyfriend’s loud voice. You groaned and sunk further into the old mattress of your bed as Wade made another lap of the apartment, still talking while stuffing his face with the pizza you picked up on the way home. “Wade, do you want to play a game?” That stopped him in his tracks for just long enough to answer you.

“What game?” 

“The quiet game.” You answered simply.

“Fuck no. Anyway, like I was saying-“ And he was off again. You groaned quietly, digging the butt of your palms into your eyes as if that would stave off the inevitable headache. 

Food couldn’t stop him, neither could sleep. You supposed you could call Cable to rip out his voice box again but the last time that happened he had a weird baby voice for like a day and it made the whole thing even worse. There was that one time when you let him fuck your ass where you thought he had died because he just stopped talking.

“That’s it!” You slid from the bed in a greatly uncoordinated manner and approached your boyfriend. He stopped pacing as you approached, but his mouth never stopped moving. With one good shove, he collapsed onto the couch and you slipped to your knees before him. 

“Oooo am I getting head? What have I done to deserve this? It must have been because of my morning treat.” You angrily ripped his ratty sweatpants down his muscular legs, exposing his rapidly hardening cock to you.

“Will you just shut up and let me go down on you?” Immediately his mouth snapped shut at your snarl and you were graced with a blissful silence. “Thank you, now let me work.” You palmed his erection briefly before giving a kitten lick to his tip, licking up the small drop of pre-cum that gathered there. 

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@getoutofthere

[ticklishthoughts1]

Attention

Alright, let's give THIS a shot

First Fandom Fic!

Ler!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Miguel O Hara was a busy man. He had built the entire spider society with the help of lyla, and keeping it functioning was imperative to the structure of the multiverse. There were anomalies to deal with, forms to fill out, forms to CREATE when there were entirely new, unprecedented events that needed to be handled in an official way. Stuff to do, stuff to do, stuff. to. do. Lyla was an amazing help, of course, without her this place would've never come into fruition. But, even with as much as she could do, as much as the other spiders helped, it still left a hell of a lot on his plate. Especially since out of all the heroes, Spider-people weren't the most ruly, around the universes. Don't even get him STARTED on the various flirty deadpools-what was their deal? Of course, beyond the work, was the grief he had never dealt with, refused to deal with-his daughter. that crumbling hole that threatened to swallow him up at any moment. It was kinda funny-he had made it mandatory for multiple spiders to seek therapy, but never took it himself. All this to say-he was in a constant state of stress, a bit of annoyance. So when he heard someone knocking at the door of his office, and growled out a "What?", he did not intend to sound as rude as he did. It was probably peter B anyway. He turned, and his eyes widened a fraction. Mentally, he groaned, at the slightly put off look on the spider's face. Dios Mio. Quickly, he tried to correct the mistake, muttering out "...sorry. What do you need, Y/N?". As you approached Miguel, and smiled at him, he felt his heartbeat start to go faster, and turned back to his work, saying "M-make it fast.". Crap. Crapcrapcrap-what was WRONG with him, lately?For some reason, he struggled to keep his composure around you. He felt-awkward. When was the last time he had EVER felt awkward?! His mind was going so fast as he tried to seem busy, that he didn't notice you walking up to him, and tapping him on the shoulder. He stiffened, nearly jumping-god, why was he tense? "Santa mierda-Don't Do That. What is it?". When you said you were BORRRREEEDDD, he had to fight a smile at your whining. He hid it with a cough, and turned away, repling "I'm busy.". This of course, did absolute zilch in terms of stopping you. You kept on poking him, talking to him, bothering him, until eventually, he sighed, and stopped typing. You stopped talking at once, anxious you had actually annoyed him-when he turned, slowly. At this point, indulging you would be more time efficient than ignoring you. Good. Miguel looked down at you, and an EVIL look crossed his face. He smirked, and said over his shoulder "Lyla...lock the doors.". Lyla did so, looking ENTIRELY too amused at your little predictament, and making kissy faces and hearts with her hands over miguel's head, which he swatted away absentmindedly-hoping you didn't know what she meant by it. A large hand wrapped around your waist as he effortlessly picked you up, and placed you in his chair. He unsheathed his claws, smiling, and gingerly placed them on your sides...wiggling slowly. deliberately. His reddish brown eyes searched yours, your giggly expression, the way your cheeks were heating up. He was observant, seemingly reading your mind in terms of which spots were worse. The wiggling increased. As your squeals, and bursts of giggling filled the room, he got closer, and whispered with a smug, yet warm satisfaction "You want my Attention, Hermosa? You got it.".

[deadqueerboys]

hello! could i request deadpool x male reader with a reader who’s just super serious 99% of the time. but one day wade just does something for the reader that kind of makes him go super soft for him? (if that makes any sense)

It was a late afternoon when M/n came home just thinking about throwing himself on the bed and not having to hear any more even the slightest sound. But as peace is short-lived, as soon as he got close to his apartment, he received a message from Wade saying, "Please come quickly." Considering what a boyfriend he has, M/n ran up the stairs as fast as he could, ignoring the elevator that was next door.

"Surprise!" Wade jumped out of the corner, appearing in front of the door, or rather, in front of M/n.

First reaction was to get scared and punch him, good self defense training helped, he would be lying if he said it didn't hurt a little.

"Damn it Wade are you okay?" M/n asked frantically, running to Wade.

"I'm fine, I'm fine" repeating, Wade looked at his boyfriend, seeing that he looked surprised and scared, tried to reassure him again, taking his attention away from the incident "look, I know that taking your eyes off me is very difficult , especially for you, but could you look at the rest of the room?"

"For the rest of…?" his brow furrowed when he saw some heart balloons and a small box on top of his bed, he ran and took it, opening it, M/n found himself with a small ring in his hands, something so beautiful.. with unimaginable details - Wade what the fuck is this?

"I thought if you and I have been together this long, could we… I don't know, make it really official?"

"You motherfucker, you look like a teenager with that kind of shit" M/n's expression turned suddenly cheerful, with a relieved, warm smile, he hugged Wade and rambled a yes as sly as his relaxed voice.

"I loved that smile, my crank," Wade whispered.

"I hate you," he muttered, sinking deeper into the snuggle.

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS (TEMP) CLOSED !

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. I find them kind of weird for me to write so my fics are mostly 1st Person POV. I write most of my fics based off on Fixations that may last a couple weeks, months, years. If you've requested something but havent seen the fic, that might be because i've lost interest!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST! Or, characters I will definitely write about if requested!

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

Tim Rockford (yes from the Ad)

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

MARVEL & XMCU

Miguel O'hara (ATSV)

Hobie Brown (Platonic/fluff only)

Pavitr Prabhakar (Platonic/fluff only)

Kurt Wagner (xmcu)

Loki Laufeyson

Bucky Barnes

Moon Knight System

Deadpool

Daredevil

Eddie and Venom (They come as a pair)

BULLET TRAIN

Tangerine

Ladybug

Jujutsu Kaisen

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

[castielli]

How to request:

Send your request featuring the character you want, the plot (+ANGST, FLUFF…) and anything I need to know about the reader.

MASTERLISTS:

MOVIES/TV SHOWS

KDRAMA/KPOP

Fandoms I write for under the cut!

——————————————

NCIS

Timothy McGee

Jimmy Palmer

Nicholas Torres

CRIMINAL MINDS

Spencer Reid

Penelope Garcia (platonic🫶)

Luke Alvez

CALL OF DUTY (MW/WWII)

John Price

Soap MacTavish

Ghost Riley

Gaz Garrick

Alex Keller

Alejandro Vargas

Phillip Graves

Vladimir Makarov

Rudy Parra

Red Daniels

William Pierson

Joseph Turner

Robert Zussman

Frank Aiello

Drew Stiles

SHAMELESS

Ian Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Mickey Milkovich

Kevin Ball

THE WALKING DEAD (+TELLTALE GAME)

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Glenn Rhee

Negan Smith

Shane Walsh

Lee Everett

Kenny

Doug

Mark

STRANGER THINGS

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Robin Buckley (platonic)

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper

Jonathan Byers

Peter/001

Jason Carver

Dimitri

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY (I still need to finish the last season😊)

Viktor Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Number Five

Luther Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

SUPERNATURAL

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Crowley

Bobby (platonic)

Chuck

NOW YOU SEE ME

Jack Wilder

J. Daniel Atlas

Merritt McKinney

Dylan Rhodes

Chase McKinney

MARVEL (Avengers/X-men)

Wanda Maximoff

Tony Stark

Bruce Banner

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Steve Rogers

Stephen Strange

Peter Parker (Tom/Andrew/Tobey)

Clint Barton

Deadpool

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Peter Quill

Quentin Beck/Mysterio

Eddie Brock/Venom

Druig

Ikaris

Charles Xavier

Erik Lehnsherr

Peter Maximoff

Wolverine

Scott Summers

Hank McCoy

Bobby Drake

Alex Summers

Phil Coulson

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockey

Scott Lang

Pietro Maximoff

Mobius M. Mobius

Matt Murdock

Shang-chi

STAR WARS

Anakin Skywalker

Luke Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Poe Dameron

Finn

TEEN WOLF

Stiles Stilinski

Scott McCall

Derek Hale

Isaac Lahey

Jackson Whittemore

Peter Hale

Theo Raeken

Liam Dunbar

Jordan Parrish

Mason Hewitt

Danny Mahealani

Aiden Steiner

Ethan Steiner

Corey Bryant

THE BOYS IN THE BAND

Bernard

Harold

Hank

Donald

Cowboy

Alan McCarthy

Michael

Larry

Emory

WHITE COLLAR

Neal Caffrey

Peter Burke

Mozzie (platonic)

Clinton Jones

DIVERGENT

Peter

Caleb Prior

Four

HARRY POTTER

Neville Longbottom

Sirius Black

Cedric Diggory

Seamus Finnigan

Viktor Krum

Remus Lupin

Draco Malfoy

Tom Riddle

Charlie Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Percy Weasley

Ron Weasley

Oliver Wood

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

Gellert Grindelwald (Mads Mikkelsen)

Newt Scamander

Credence Barebone

Theseus Scamander

Albus Dumbledore (Jude Law)

HUNGER GAMES

Peeta Mellark

Coriolanus Snow

Sejanus Plinth

MAZE RUNNER

Newt

Thomas

Gally

Minho

911 (and LONE STAR)

Evan Buckley (Buck)

Howie Han (Chimney)

Bobby Nash

Eddie Diaz

TK Strand

Carlos Reyes

Paul Strickland

Owen Strand

Jud Ryder

Mateo Chavez

RIVERDALE

Jughead Jones

FP Jones

Archie Andrews

Hiram Lodge

Sweet Pea

Fangs

Kevin Keller

Reggie Mantle

Chic

Moose Mason

BROOKLYN99

Jake Peralta

Terry Jeffords

All the others (platonic only)

CHRISTIAN BALE

Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

PEDRO PASCAL

Joel Miller (TLOU)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Javi Gutierrez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

Javier Peña (Narcos)

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)

Agent Whiskey (Kingsman)

Silva (Strange Way of Life)

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

DETROIT BECOME HUMAN

Connor

RK900

Hank

Markus

Luther

Simon

Gavin

Josh

BARBIE

Ken (Ryan)

Ken (Simu)

Allan

SHERLOCK

Sherlock Holmes

John Watson

Jim Moriarty

Mycroft Holmes

FNAF (movie)

Mike Schmidt

Steve Raglan

SUITS

Harvey Specter

Mike Ross

LA CASA DE PAPEL

El Profesor

Berlín

Palermo

Denver

Río

I WON’T WRITE:

-Smut (for anyone)

-R*pe

-Female readers/GN readers

-Suic*de

-inc*st

-Crossdressing

-Romantic/Suggestive stories for underage characters (only platonic, basically)

If the character you wanted to request is not on the list, you can try and ask me anyways.

[skylarinfinity]

[deadpool m/n shot the man who try rob laura purse]

laura: [startled] oh god! thank you for helping me.

deadpool m/n: [tilt his head] how could i not help you?! you literally linda cardellini!

laura: [confused] what-

clint: [checking laura to make sure she alright] is everything okay? are you okay?

deadpool m/n: next time fucking use your hawkeye skill! you should do better at protecting your family jeremy [give clint middle finger before jump into stranger car]

stranger: who are yo-

deadpool m/n: [point his katana towards the stranger neck] drive me to a fucking mcdonald's, i want kid meals.

clint: what the fuck.

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket

[pedrito-friskito]

head to head - frank castle x fem!reader (hell’s angel part i)

summary: you’re a bounty hunter with a price on your head. frank comes to collect, but you both quickly have other ideas.

warnings: WHERE TO BEGIN. uhm. this is PWP basically. canon-typical violence (the punisher is R-rated after all) - unprotected p-in-v sex (no glove no love), oral (m and f receiving), brat!kink, dom!frank, frank’s filthy mouth, fingering, cursing, a few soft moments for ✨flavour✨

a/n: also kind of threw this into the deadpool universe just for shits and giggles? @saintmurd0ck and I have been suffering from SERIOUS frank castle brainrot and this was the end-product for me (she always wrote the most delicious matt murdock x reader x frank drabble - GO READ IT HERE!)

this is my first frank fic so pls be kind - tagging some people below I think might like this (based on my post likes lmao). this might eventually turn into a series, who knows, but ENJOY 😮‍💨

(main masterlist) (series masterlist) (ao3)

Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. The hottest place in New York, for a mercenary. Gold cards, a decent stack of cash, enough job-flow to keep you coming back for more. And fuck, if Weasel doesn’t make a mean whiskey sour. Sometimes. Other times you’re half-sure its just Jack Daniel’s and root beer, but it always goes down like a dream.

The place is packed, the bar itself filled stem to stern with all manner of mercs. Most of them give you a nod when you saunter in, your fur-lined jacket more noticeable than most, and the shotgun strapped to your back a warning like no other. It had taken some time to make a name for yourself at Sister Margaret’s, a good few jobs under your belt before the big burly men stopped calling you sweetheart and little girl and got the hell out of your way.

The truth of it all was that was that you were good at what you did, and Sister Margaret’s was the kind of place you had needed when you were a kid. Someone looking out for the sad-sacks and lowlifes of the city with nothing better to do than to prey on young girls and try to ‘make them into women.’

To put it plainly, you had a penchant for abusers, leaving them much worse off than when you found them, and you liked it. The cash was just an added bonus, and the name? Well, you were still deciding if you liked it or not.

“If it isn’t Hell’s Angel,” Weasel calls from behind the bar, his hands spread wide across the top, a gold card notched between his knuckles. “How sweet of you to grace us with your presence.” His tone is dry, and you smirk, sliding your finished card across the bar top and reaching for the one he’s holding, but before you can snag it, he pulls it out of reach. “Not so fast.”

“Don’t be like that, Weas,” you chide, pouting at him. “Someone’s gotta pick up the slack around here now that Wilson disappeared.”

“Medical sabbatical, I told you,” Weasel shoots back and you roll your eyes. “He’ll be back, and he’ll be pissed to know there’s no jobs left roaming the streets for him when he does.”

You sigh, trying to snag the card again. “Give me the card.”

“No can do,” he says, his tone still dry, but then his voice changes. He reaches beneath the bar, and presents you with…a whiskey sour, complete with a cherry speared on one of those stupid little plastic swords. “I can pay you out, but that’s it, Angel. You’re cut off”

“What?” You start looking up and down the bar. You reach for the glass, and toss back the drink in one slug. Fuck, that’s a lot of whiskey, but you’re too fired up to really care. “Which one of these fuckers complained, huh? Point me in his fucking direction, why don’t you.”

Weasel reaches across the bar, card still between his knuckles, and grabs your arm. “Calm your shit, no one complained. It’s…worse that that.”

You balk. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. “Worse?”

“Someone put out a hit on you, Angel,” he says, tone seesawing between dry and genuine. “You gotta go. I’m sorry.”

“Who…?”

“I can’t tell you who,” he says instantly, shaking his head. “You know I can’t tell you who put it out. Or who took the card. I can’t tell you shit.” He sighs. “Them’s the rules.”

Fuck.

You push a hard breath out, feeling the whiskey start to buzz through your veins. Time to get the hell out of dodge. “Well, pay me out, Weas, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Ten minutes later, a decently large wad of cash stuffed in your pocket, and you’re headed home. Or, what you’ve called home for the last six months. The outskirts of New York are littered with empty houses, and you like taking your pick of the richer neighbourhoods, breaking into the homes who’s owners have left them empty for the season, picking your way through designer closets and wine cellars before slinking off to the next.

Problem is, someone’s already waiting for you.

Perched on the steps of your latest abode, a shotgun larger than yours balanced on his knees. There’s something…familiar. You haven’t seen him at Sister Margaret’s, that much you know. But the face, there’s something there that twinges the back of your brain.

Crew cut, square jaw, big nose that fits the face perfectly. Just enough stubble to know the beard that lurks. Hard stare, dark eyes, unfairly full lips. Broad shouldered, covered in black head to toe, and big fucking hands holding that shotgun.

“Number’s up, sweetheart,” he calls as soon as you’re close enough, your boots clicking on the pavement as you reach behind you casually, your fingers curling around the handle of your own gun. He lifts one hand, and you see the tell-tale gold card wedged between his thick fingers. You bite your lip. Motherfucker. “You wanna dance?”

“There’s a lot of things I’d like to do with you, handsome,” you call back, tilting your head to the side as he rises to stand. You’ve seen enough well-cut men to know he’s packing muscle beneath the dark get-up, and you let your eyes wander south. You’ve seen enough well-hung men to know that he’s packing something else too. “But dancing isn’t one of them.”

He smirks, a little half-assed thing that manages to send a zap of heat through you. Fucking hell in a hand basket, are you actually attracted to the man that’s come to…collect you? There’s gotta be some law against that somewhere, right? Somewhere deep in the merc’s handbook, for sure.

“S’a pretty price on your head, sweetheart,” he continues, and slowly starts to descend the steps, closing the distance between you just enough to send your heart racing in your chest. He’s got a good head on you, and peers down his nose as you grip your shotgun and pull it from your back, letting it hang loosely at your side. He’s got a big nose, suits his face, busted enough to make you think it’s been broken more than once. “Who’d you piss off?”

“Dunno,” you say with a shrug, starting to around him, meandering pace as you keep your eyes glued to him, watching his reaction. You keep a fair distance between you, and he doesn’t turn as you circle him, but you catch his eyes raking over you when you disappear and reappear in his line of sight. He’s toying with you; you’re toying with each other. This is gonna be fun, at least, a good way to go. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly kind to the lowlife assholes of the world. Some of them must work for someone with deep pockets.”

“Heard they call you Angel,” he says, his voice gruff and grating and fuck, if he says your real name you might just dissolve into a puddle. “Knew a guy once, they called him the Devil.”

“Maybe I’d get along better with him.” You grin. “And it’s Hell’s Angel, just for the record. What do they call you?”

His nose twitches. “Punisher.”

Your brows shoot up. The memory tweaks; a newspaper strewn on the bar at Sister Margaret’s. Punisher Punished. “Ahh, I knew I knew you,” you purr, tapping a finger to the tip of your nose. “You’ve got more of a rep than I do, handsome.”

“Gotta stop calling me that, sweetheart,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re stalling.”

“And?” you ask, looping around him again, lifting your shotgun onto your shoulder. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

He just smirks. 

“What are you gonna do if I don’t stop, huh?” You’re in front of him again now, staring at that stupidly, ruggedly handsome face. “You gonna punish me, hmm?” A step forward, than another. “I might like it.”

He’s staring down his nose at you, mouth a taut line, eyes hard and unwavering. “Watch it now, sweetheart. Don’t wanna bite off more than you can chew.”

“Oh, I don’t bite,” you purr back, grinning as you chance a hand forward, walking your fingers up his chest. No armour beneath the dark shirt, nothing but hard muscle that jumps beneath your touch, which has you thinking… “Not unless you ask me to.”

You do another circle, your steps slower this time. He doesn’t turn, but his head does, one eye watching you as you move, slinking up the steps one at a time, shotgun still resting on your shoulder. One, two, three…

He swings around, lifting his own gun and levelling it with your face at the same moment you lift yours. It’s a standoff, each of your staring down the barrel of the other’s gun, at the mercy of the other’s trigger finger, or lack thereof…

“Gimme a good reason, Angel,” he barks, “why I shouldn’t pull the trigger.”

You lift a brow. “The Punisher, giving me a chance to beg? You’re not the big bad I thought you were, handsome.”

“You don’t know me at all, babydoll,” he grits out, and the switch in the nickname alone makes your heart stutter.

But then the world implodes.

Shots ring out, the glass of the window beside the house’s front door shatters, the door itself splintering inward. You both drop, more shots exploding toward you, bullets whizzing by your shoulder and head. There’s a big hand grabbing the scruff of your jacket, hauling you up and shoving you through the now open door. More gunshots, and the Punisher shoves you out of the the doorway the moment you’re through.

You hit the ground hard, rolling through shards of glass that poke and prod and make you wince. You’re quick to head for the window ledge, using it as a bunker while you cock your gun and take aim. The hooded figure standing in the road isn’t familiar to you, the large gun in his hand lifted and ready to end one or both of you.

Then you see the gold card. “Your time is up, Castle!” the merc yells. The memory twigs again; Castle, Frank Castle. You read that article so many times Weasel had to pry the newspaper from your hands. You chance a glance over at the man in question, see him propped up beside the door. He looks unharmed, mostly, dust and debris on his jacket and pants. Your brow hardens.

“Come on out, Angel!” the merc calls. “I’m not here for you!”

What the fuck?

You look at Frank again, and this time, he’s staring right back. There are no words, no gestures, nothing. But something unspoken, and he slowly drops a handgun to the floor, covers it with his boot, and then slides it across the floor to you. An easier shot than the shotgun propped on your shoulder.

Then he nods.

“I just want my money!” the merc shouts, and you roll your eyes. Who the fuck is this guy?

You scramble for the handgun for a moment, swinging it out the broken window to take aim just as a hand grenade goes sailing over your head, hitting the ground behind you. You take the shot, the bang echoing through your head as the bullet finds it’s mark, and then that big hand is at your shoulder again, hauling you up and out, a large body covering yours as you hit the hard ground. Overhead, the first floor implodes, wood and glass and debris flying everywhere.

Your ears are ringing, you can taste blood, and everything hurts. When you try and lift your head, your eyes immediately meet a large shard of glass that’s sticking out of your shoulder and you groan and you’re pulled to your feet, yanked against a warm body. Your knee barks in protest, and you look down to see more glass, this time accompanied by a thin piece of wood speared through your leg. Fuck.

“You okay, sweetheart?” a gruff voice asks, right by your ear, and a thick arm slides around your waist, taking most of your weight.

“Shoulder,” you managed to rasp out. Who the fuck even blows people up anymore? “Knee. Nothing major.”

“Good,” Frank Castle says. “Let’s get outta here, huh?”

“Thought you wanted to,” you wince hard when a falter in your step sends a shock of pain up your leg, “dance.”

“That can wait,” he tells you, glancing over his shoulder, starting to shuffle you down the street. “That was an impressive shot. Besides, saved my ass; least I can do is clean you up, show you a good time.” He smirks. “Dancing comes later.”

+

You’re not what he expected.

He was hoping for some fat, ugly asshole. Some easy kill, swipe the gold card and collect the cash, get the hell out and never look back. That would have been easy, that would have been simple.

You are already proving to be anything but.

He half-carries you to the motel, trying to ignore the feeling of your body heat against his arm. That god awful coat of yours is covered in debris from the house, dust and broken glass and wood. The shard in your shoulder needs to come out, along with the twig in your knee. You’re taking it like a champ, that much he’s sure of, wincing occasionally but not a word of protest falling out of you.

“What hurts more?” he asks once he’s brought you through the door and deposited you on the bathroom counter. Both your guns bounce onto one of the the mattresses, forgotten for the time being. Dancing comes later. Not that he’s even planning on dancing, now. “Shoulder or leg?”

“Leg,” you rasp, and he tries not to let his eyes linger on the expanse of your throat when you throw your head back, crown hitting the mirror as he takes your ankle in hand and lifts. The wood is jammed just above your knee, through and through, blood staining the fabric of your jeans. He leaves you for a moment to grab his kit before he comes back, pushing a bottle of whiskey in your hands.

“Drink,” he orders, and you listen, yanking the cap off and tossing it to the side, tipping the bottle to your lips and chugging. He waits a moment, waits until you tip the bottle back down, until you’re wiping your lips, takes hold of the wood, and pulls.

“Motherfucker!” you screech, good arm reaching out and fisting in his shoulder. “Warn a girl next time, huh?”

“Nope,” he responds, sinking to his knees. He tugs on your good leg. “Get down. Pants off.”

“There are nicer ways to get me naked, you know, Castle,” you quip, but obey, sliding off the counter and undoing the button on your jeans, kicking off your boots. You push your jeans down as far as they’ll go, and Frank bites the inside of his cheek at the scrap of lace covering you. Then he eases your pants down further, carefully around your injury, helping you step out of them and kicking the fabric to the side.

“You don’t ever stop, do you?” he grumbles, grabbing your hips and lifting you back onto the counter. You’re so much…smaller than him, a good head shorter, and he towers over you, even sat on the countertop as you are. You grin, and he bites his cheek so hard he can taste blood.

He fishes bandages and antiseptic out of the kit. Ignores your whine when he wipes the wound clean. So much for taking it like a champ. He wraps it carefully, ties off the gauze, then reaches for your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says lowly, “eyes on me.”

You do — fuck, you perfect little obedient thing — and he reaches for a cloth, wrapping it around the glass sticking out of your shoulder. One hand on the shard, and he lifts the other to your throat, thumb swiping the curve of your jaw.

“I’m not killin’ you, sweetheart,” he tells you, and watches your eyes go wide. “Not tonight.”

You suck in a breath, a retort on the tip of your tongue, and then he pulls.

“Motherfucker!”

There’s a spurt of blood when he yanks the glass out, letting the smeared shard clatter into the sink. He reaches for your shoulder, pushing the edge of your coat back, and grabs another piece of gauze, holding it to the wound, pressing hard enough that your teeth sink into your lip. Your head tilts back, knocking against the mirror again, face pinching when he presses harder, trying to staunch the bleeding.

“That was an impressive shot,” he mumbles, dragging his eyes from your face and staring at the gauze pressed to your blood-stained skin. You’re a mess — you both are — skin covered in dust and blood, your chest heaving and Frank can’t stop himself from planting his other hand on your thigh, fingers curling around the bare muscle. It twitches in his grip and he hides his grin. You’re reactive, your body already giving in to him. “Where’d you learn how to shoot like that?”

“Self-taught,” you tell him, and he can’t stop himself from staring you right in the face. No way in hell. You’re smirking, head lolling a bit on your shoulders, hips adjusting on the counter. He’s got half a mind to just rip those panties off right here and now, throw your knees around his ears and eat your pussy until the sun comes up. But he’s more of a gentleman than that. He wants to ease you into it, wants to watch you break down and…submit to him. He’s holding that gold card over your head, holding your shoulder, watching your gaze flicker down when his thumb slides down the inside of your thigh.

He’s not killing you, not tonight. Maybe not ever. But he is gonna do something else.

“No way, princess,” he says with a shake of his head. “Tell the truth.”

You let out a laugh that’s more like a scoff. “I am telling the truth, Castle.” You wince as he peels back the gauze. It’s still bleeding, but not as much; he’s gonna have to stitch it. Your eyes are hard, just watching as he moves, reaching into the kit, pushing at the collar of your coat. He opens his mouth to tell you to take it off, but you beat him to it, shrugging carefully out of the thing, tugging it out from under your ass and letting it drop to the floor. It leaves you in a little black tank top, the straps thin and the neckline scooping across your chest. He lets his eyes dip shamelessly, tearing open an antiseptic wipe, and your eyes traipse up his body, until they meet his, and that shit-eating grin is back on your mouth.

The grin disappears as he sets to work, wiping the blood away, disinfecting and pushing the whiskey back into your hand. You turn your head to the side, taking another healthy swig, and he watches your throat bob, his jeans tightening at the sight.

Fuck, you are really not what he expected.

“I really am self-taught,” you say, your head still turned, pointedly not looking at him stitching your shoulder. No wincing though, no complaining. “You go after enough fuck-heads who don’t understand the word no and you turn into more than a decent shot. That, and I go to the shooting range so often they give me half off now.” A little smirk. “It ain’t pretty, but it’s a living, right?” Your eyes cut to him, watching his expression. He feels a little vulnerable under your gaze, then remembers the gold card in his back pocket. “You grow up thinking it was all gonna shake out like this, Castle?”

His brow hardens. “What d’ya mean?”

You lean your head back against the mirror again. “I grew up wanting to be a truck driver by day, ballet dancer by night. Bounty hunter with a price on her head didn’t exactly make the list.”

Frank barks a laugh, pulling the stitch as he does. “That’s quite the combination, sweetheart. My daughter wanted to be, uh, a veterinarian.”

Your head snaps to look at him. For the first time, you have a soft look on your face, rather than a shit-eating grin or a seductive smirk. He waits for you to ask, to try and deep dive into his past, to try and pull something out of him. Something he’s not willing to give to you. Not yet.

“Who put out the hit on me?” is what you ask instead, and Frank drops his gaze, reaching over to run his hands under the tap, cleaning your blood from his skin. Then he reaches for the bandages, taping up your shoulder.

“Dunno,” he mumbles, eyes focused on your shoulder, ignoring the way the strap of your tank top keeps falling across your collarbone. There’s a silver chain at your neck, a tiny little pendant that looks like a star sitting in the hollow of your throat. “Didn’t ask.”

“So you just took a hit on another hunter, no questions asked?” When he doesn’t reply, you scoff. “Punisher, my ass.”

“What’s that supposed t’mean?” he asks, brow furrowing.

“You go after bad people, right? Isn’t that your gig?” Satisfied with his bandage work, he takes a step back from the counter, and you slide off in an instant, taking the whiskey with you, bouncing away in your skimpy little top and panties barely covering your ass. He swallows hard. “That’s your schtick?”

Frank turns around, leans against the counter, crosses his arms over his chest. “Not a schtick, sweetheart.”

“I’m not a bad person,” you say, setting the whiskey bottle on the dresser. “I’m not bad people. I do what you do; I only go after people who hurt other people. People who can’t protect themselves.” You glance over your shoulder at him, the corner of your mouth quirking. “Mostly men. Idiots who don’t know the meaning of consent, who like to prey on little girls in dark alleyways. Those are easy shots. Easy money.” You tap your fingers on the dresser. “Boom.”

“God,” he drawls, tapping his foot against the floor. “You really don’t ever stop, do you, sweetheart?”

You spin to look at him, eyes bright and fiery. Ah, there she is. “What, I’m not allowed to plead my case? I thank you for the chivalry of stitching me up, Frank,” you say, and he has to stifle the choked noise that worms up his throat when you actually bow, curtsying to him and giving him and eyeful of your chest, “but I don’t think I need to remind you that you had a shotgun pointed at my head less than an hour ago.”

“You had one pointed at me too, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you bark, pointing a finger at him. Fuck, he’s got you riled now. “I don’t deserve the gold card, is what I’m saying. Sure, I’ve pissed off a few people, but who hasn’t? You think every fucking idiot who rolls into Sister Margaret’s is a saint before they walk in the door? I think the fuck not.”

And he’s had enough.

Frank pushes off the counter, takes two long strides towards you. “Would you just shut the fuck up,” he says, and watches your reaction, watches your back straighten and your eyes widen, “for two seconds?”

But you don’t. “I’m just saying,” you continue, “you should know this shit before you try and put a fucking bullet in me.”

“I don’t wanna put a bullet in you,” he throws back, and takes another step. Your knees knock together and he closes the distance with a final stride. Knuckles under your chin, tilting your head up to face him. Your brow is a hard line, lips pressed together, and he lets his thumb wander over the seam, feeling your breath on his skin. “I wanna put my cock in you.”

Your quip is fast, eyes rolling to the back of your head: “Now, there’s a line if I ever heard one.”

But Frank sees it, sees that hint of submission creep into your eyes, the way your jaw goes slack in his grip for a fraction of a second before the big bad bitch returns. He grins. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, huh, princess? Shut you up for a minute with this big fat cock in your mouth?” He grabs your wrist with his other hand, yanks it down and presses your palm to his crotch. Your fingers twitch over the outline of him and his jaw goes tight.

This time, there’s no quip, no witty response, just big shiny eyes and he watches the tip of your tongue snake the corner of your mouth. You’re fucking drooling, just at the thought of it. Good. He adjusts his grip on your face, holding your chin in his hand, squeezing your cheeks slightly.

“You gonna let me fuck you, babydoll?” he asks, and your mouth pops open, warm breath tickling his face. He should kiss you, wants to kiss you. Needs to kiss you. You make a tiny noise somewhere between a whine and a moan and he reaches for your hip, yanking your body towards him, shoving his hand under the lace covering your pussy. “C’mon, when’s the last time somebody fucked you like you deserve, huh, sweetheart? Last time someone ate this pussy till you screamed?”

“Frank,” you groan out, hands reaching for the wrist holding your face, nails digging into his skin. God, you look pretty like this, big eyes and wet lips, pupils blown and tongue between your teeth.

He’s done waiting, done fucking around and talking. At least, talking pretty.

“Say yes, princess,” he says, leaning in until he’s almost talking against your mouth. “I wanna hear it.”

You nod your head furiously in his grip, eyes going wide as dinner plates, canting your hips into his hand. You’re dripping, all wet heat and soft curls against his fingers.

“Use your words,” he commands, and can’t help but capture your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging not so lightly. It makes you moan, and this time, he can’t stop himself from capturing the sound, swallowing it.

+

It’s not a kiss so much as a collision. 

You were losing it when he grabbed your chin in his big fucking hand. More so when he bit your lip. And now? Absolutely gone. His fingers working between your legs, calloused pads scraping your clit in a way that makes you want to scream in pleasure.

He’s been pulling you apart since you walked into this motel room. Piece by piece, brick by brick, stitching you up just so he could tear you apart in a different way. You think you could drown in that voice, fall apart in those big hands, get down on your knees and worship the big cock that jumps towards your palm when you reach for his crotch again.

He growls into your mouth, tongue spearing against yours, tasting of black coffee and something else so violently delicious your knees start to quake. You’re so far gone now, between the pet names and the big hands and the I wanna put my cock in you. You’re out of witty responses and daring quips.

When’s the last time somebody fucked you like you deserve, huh, sweetheart?

The answer? Far too fucking long.

He pulls his hand from between your legs abruptly. You almost whimper, but the noise is cut off when he releases your face, reaches both hands down to cup your ass, gripping your cheeks in an iron vice before they slip lower, grabbing your thighs and lifting you up and against him. Your hands scrabble for his shoulders, clawing at his t-shirt, pulling at the tight fabric. He’s wearing too many clothes; you need to explore what lies beneath.

Frank kisses like he’s trying to eat you alive, and you love it. You only come up for air when he drags his teeth along your jaw, nips at your earlobe, drags his stubbly cheek across your neck. “C’mon, princess,” he grumbles against your skin, and then he drops you, your back hitting the bed, body bouncing slightly on the mattress. His eyes rake across you, and he reaches for your knees, fingers curling around the backs and yanking you towards him, spreading your legs wide. “Words.”

His hands move down your thighs, thumbs pressing in deep as he goes, moving towards the heat pooling between your legs. You’re absolutely losing it. “Yes,” you finally moan out, chewing your lip furiously as he reaches the hinge of your thigh, lets one thumb reach out and swipe over your drenched core.

“Yes, what?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, you think, wanting to roll your eyes, to yell at him to just fuck you already. But you know this game, and judging from the twitching bulge in his pants, it’s a game Frank likes to play. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

His mouth splits into a grin and he rewards you for the admission, moving his whole hand to your pussy, dragging his fingers up and down, up and down. You keen into the touch, back arching off the mattress. “Mmm, yeah, good girl,” he grits out, and you feel him reach for the elastic of your underwear, snapping it against your skin. “Gonna make you feel really fucking good, sweetheart. Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.” He snaps the band again and again, and you lift your hips, feeling him tear the scrap of fabric down your thighs.

Before you can even react, he’s on his knees, big hands curling around your hips and yanking you to the edge of the bed. There’s little ceremony, no build up, just his mouth sealing over your pussy, that big fucking nose grinding into your clit, lips sucking and tasting and sending white sparks across your vision. You reach down, grab his head in your hands, lock your fingers in the longer hair on top of his head. He groans against you when you pull hard, thrusting your hips up against his face and it sends a wave of vibrations rippling through you, your back arching harder.

That busted nose of his feels like heaven against your clit, the stubble on his chin grating just enough to bring you higher and higher, and he’s holding your hips so tight you’re sure you’ll have bruises shaped like his hands come morning, but you don’t fucking care. As long as he doesn’t fucking stop.

He’s rutting into the bed, eating your pussy with such vigour and enthusiasm that he’s moving you up the mattress, further and further until he’s half on it with you, knees pressing into the duvet while he pulls you up towards his mouth, your knees bent over his shoulders. He adjusts his grip, locking his arms around you completely, holding you to him.

When his tongue dips into your dripping heat, prodding the deepest parts of you, that’s when you lose it.

You try to shout as you cum, try to drawl his name, but no sound falls out of you. Especially when one of his arms comes loose around you, holding you in place with one bulging bicep, and his hand closes around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to notice, not enough to cut off your air. You can feel the strength that he’s withholding, what he’s using to hold your pussy to his face, but what he’s not wielding on you like a weapon.

I’m not killin’ you, sweetheart. Not tonight.

Can you die from the most intense orgasm of your life?

As soon as he pulls his tongue from you, he jams two fingers in, slamming your hips back onto the bed and covering your body with his own. His knees bracket your hips and then his mouth is on yours again, free hand curling around the side of your face, peering down between you as he thrusts his fingers in and out, thumb pressing hard on your clit. Still, you don’t have words, only heaving breaths and gasped moans that only climb higher when he finds that spongy spot deep inside, caressing it softly before he twists his wrist, scissoring his fingers wide.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, huh, baby girl?” he whispers, his mouth right by your ear. You can only moan, digging your hands into his shoulders as hard as you can, grabbing onto him like a lifeline. “Can’t talk, huh? That good?” He continues to move his fingers, rough and then soft, the quick changes nearly giving you whiplash. “Gotta warm you up first, sweetheart, so you can take this big fucking cock.”

You push your face into his thick neck as you cum a second time, the first one barely bled away before the second takes over. Your fingers and toes are static, limbs taut and limp at the same time, and you hook your arm around his neck, something between a moan and a sob bouncing off his skin. He curls his fingers up, pressing against that devastating spot, drawing the orgasm out longer, making you gush around his knuckles.

“Tha’s a good girl,” he grunts, turning his head to kiss your temple, the action softer than you’re expecting as he drags his fingers out of you. You watch, hazy-eyed, as he shoves his fingers between his lips one at a time, sucking the taste of you from them, and then he’s grabbing your face again, kissing you rough and passionate, his mouth tasting of your release, fingers spanning your jaw and cheek. 

He pulls back, eyes boring into yours, searching your face. Your chest heaves with breaths, eyes rolling back as he lowers his weight onto you more, making a home for himself between your thighs. Your can feel how hard he is, even behind his jeans, the rough material pressing against your sensitive core, making your hips stutter against him. 

“This what you needed, huh?” he asks, grinding into you slightly. “Baby needed somebody to shut her up, is that it? Somebody to give her what she needed.”

Somehow, you find it in you to nod, gripping him tighter, lifting yourself against him to chase his mouth, to kiss him as hard as he kissed you. He grunts, rolling over until he’s on his back and you’re astride him, hips still on his, knees pressing into he mattress. You can feel his cock straining against his zipper, jolting when you grind down on him, sensitive but still desperate for more.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, sliding your hands underneath. His muscles jump at your touch, and you can feel his eyes on your face, but yours are too busy watching the slow ride of his shirt up his stomach, caught on your wrists as you move higher and higher. You can feel the ridges of scars and the curves of muscle, dips and valleys you want to drag your tongue along. You push the shirt up his chest as high as the position will allow, and then drop your head, your mouth at his sternum.

You’ve never seen this much muscle on one man, thickly packed onto his body, a wild landscape for you to explore. And he’s so fucking broad, shoulders nearly twice as wide as your own, tapering down to well-cut hips, deep adonis lines that disappear beneath his belt, making your mouth water just thinking about what lurks below.

You can feel his heartbeat hammering against your lips, and one of his hands lifts to your head, running his fingers through your hair, pushing it back from your face. “What ya gonna do now, pretty baby?” he asks, his tone low and music to your ears. “Huh?”

Moving your hips back, you move your hands from his chest, lifting your head and dragging your mouth right down the middle of his body. He makes a pleased noise, letting your hair sift through his fingers until you’re out of reach. You sit up straight, hands reaching for his belt buckle, and you can feel those dark eyes still watching you, gaze hard and lust-blown, mouth twitching with a grin.

You shuffle back further, letting your feet hit the ground and planting your hands on his knees when yours threaten to give out. He’s just watching, reaching up to fold his hands behind his head. You reach for the button on his jeans, and his brow lifts. “Yeah? You want my cock, huh?”

Nodding, your pinch the zipper, pulling slowly, feeling the jump of his length towards your hand. Your hands are shaking, but you’re more sure of your footing now, and, surprising even yourself, grab the waist of his jeans and pull down hard, lifting his hips up and pulling his jeans and briefs down all in one shot. He grunts as you do, one hand flying for your shoulder, and then you drop your mouth to his stomach again, dragging your tongue along the ridge of his abs, unable to hold back the moan in your throat when his bare cock lifts against your chest, tip hitting your breasts, a smear of precum across your skin.

You go to move your head lower, to take him between your lips, but before you can, there’s a big hand around your jaw, jerking your head up, forcing your eyes on his. “You gotta ask nicely, babydoll,” he says, and swipes his thumb over your lips, dipping his fingertip between them for a moment. “I told ya, use your words.”

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. You can’t help the slightly bratty tone, but it gives way to desperation quicker than you mean to, dragging your hands down his sides, squeezing his hips and then his thighs. “Please, Frank.”

He smirks, giving you a slight nod. “Show me what you got, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and the way he tucks your hair behind your ear makes your stomach lurch, his hands settling at his sides, tapping softly against the duvet. A happy little moan escape you, and you lower your head again, uninterrupted this time.

He’s thick. Thicker than you imagined, a prominent vein running down the side, precum still beading at the tip. Neatly trimmed hair at the base, those deep-cut lines at his hips truly trailing to something magnificent. You knew he was packing the moment you laid eyes on him, but even you couldn’t have imagined this.

A sharp inhale reaches your ears as you close your lips around his tip, sucking lightly, experimentally. His palm lands at the crown of your head, fingers working along your scalp, and you do it again, waiting for the hitch in his breath.

It doesn’t come, and instead, he works most of your hair into his fist, tugging hard until your head lifts again. “Don’t wanna be teased, baby,” he grunts, eyes glued to the way your lips aren’t around his cock, but its resting against your mouth. “Not tonight.”

Frank keeps your hair in his fist, but the grip is more lax, giving you more room to move.

There’d been little ceremony or build-up before he’d buried his face in your pussy, and he said no teasing. So, you dive right in.

He groans loudly when you take him all the way, cock sliding past your lips and across your tongue, hitting the roof of your mouth while your hollow your cheeks and suck hard. The sound he makes is deep and guttural, sending a shock of heat through you as it bounces off the walls of the motel room. Part of you wonders if the neighbours can hear, a bigger part of you doesn’t care.

You curl your fingers around the base of him, bobbing your head, working against your gag reflex as best as you can. There’s a sliver of a tear in your eye, but you ignore it, swallowing him down, dragging your tongue along that thick vein. His hips jump when you do that, cock thrusting deeper, hitting the back of your throat and he groans again.

Then he starts talking.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he says, and it makes your eyes roll back, feeling his other hand move to your hair, both locking in your hair now. You let out a little moan around his cock, gripping his hip tightly in your free hand, digging your nails into his skin. You’re moving faster now, spurred on by his gravelly voice in your ears. “S’right, babydoll, you suck that cock so good, huh? That’s what you needed, big dick in your mouth to shut you up, make you feel good.” He sits up a little, getting a better grip on your head, stomach jumping against your forehead. “Does that turn you on, baby, huh? You like sucking that dick?”

With one hand still wrapped around him, your other drags down his leg, squeezing his knee before you’re slipping it between your legs, toying with your clit and moaning around his cock again. You go harder, faster, moving your head as fast as your muscles will allow, sucking him deep while the salty taste paints your tongue.

“Fuck me,” he grits. “Sweet little thing, sucking my cock like a champ.” One hand moves under your chin, and he pulls you off of him slowly, leaving you gasping for air, a string of spit connecting you to him. “Shit. C’mere.” He hauls you up, pulling you back onto the bed and into his lap, still gripping your chin, swiping this thumb through the spit on your lips before bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking his thumb clean. It makes everything in you clench. 

He grabs your face again, this time with both hands, and pulls your mouth to his. His tongue invades your mouth, licking into it, gathering you closer and closer until your chest is pressed against his. He gathers your hair into his fist again, mouth still on yours, and pulls at the neckline of your tank top, yanking it down, curving his fingers around the swell of your breast. You moan into his mouth, teeth knocking together before he moves his face to your chest, lips closing around your nipple, tongue dancing over it until its a hard peak.

Frank pulls back after a moment, looking up at you. “Gonna make me cum if you keep sucking me off like that,” he whispers, hands reaching for the hem of your tank top, pulling it up and over your head. Then he reaches for your wrists, moving your hands between the two of you. “Put my cock in you, baby. Want you to ride me, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You nod, almost frantic, reaching down and curling your fingers around him again. His hands settle on your hips, angling you up. You whimper when his tip notches at your opening, and he lifts his head to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip. Then you sink down, slowly, slowly, slowly.

Even with your two wild orgasms and how worked up you are from sucking his cock, the stretch still burns. It rides that thin line between pleasure and pain, your jaw dropping open as you lower yourself, head dropping forward onto his shoulder. “Frank,” you manage to moan out, and his arms slide around you tight, holding you to him, keeping your hips pressed to his. Your clit is captive against the hard ridge of his stomach, and with every breath he takes, there’s a shock of pleasure through your system.

After a moment, the pain gives way completely to the pleasure, the stretch nothing more than blissful and you start to move. He adjusts his grip on you, one palm flat between your shoulder blades, other arm hooking around your waist. “That’s it,” he whispers as you start to roll your hips. “Good girl, baby.”

You wrap one arm around his neck, the other skimming the back of his head, the short hairs at his nape tickling your palm. He turns his head, kisses your cheek, drags his tongue up the side of your neck. He chases your hips with his own, fucking up into you, and the tip of his cock manages to find that spot, sending lightning shocks of pleasure through your whole body, making you shake.

You must get tighter around him, because Frank groans, fingers scraping against your spine. “You gonna cum again, baby?” he croons, voice right at your ear, whispered but just as husky. “You gonna cum on this cock, huh?”

You go to groan out a yes, jaw hinging open, but before you can say anything, he’s tipping you back, wrenching himself out of you and tilting you sideways, laying you out on the bed. You whimper at the loss, but it’s not gone for long, Frank knocking your legs wide with his hand and covering your body with his own again, taking his cock in hand and guiding himself back into you. You keen up into his touch, sighing as he plants his elbows beside your head, caging you in.

“Wanna see your face, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning down and just dragging his mouth over yours, capturing every little noise your make. “Wanna watch you lose it again.”

He starts to move again, and this way, this position, the pace is unrelenting, heavy and hard, filling the room with the sound of his skin hitting yours, the wet glide of his cock, and the quiet way he shushes you, moving one hand to cup your chin again, gripping tight enough to make you clench around him.

“Frank,” you moan again, and he just nods, that big nose dragging along yours, mouth dropping to capture your lips in a biting kiss.

It doesn’t take much more than that. A few more snaps of his hips, his hand moving from your chin to your throat, the muscle of his stomach catching on your clit, and you’re gone. It’s blinding, numbing, tingling, all of the above.

You’re somewhere in the clouds, your body completely in his control. He bites at your collarbone, his hips starting to stutter, and you know he’s close. You see his face go hard, brow pinching, and he pushes his head into your chest, biting at your breast as he keeps fucking into you, hands in your hair, sweetheart moaned into your skin.

He fucks into you hard, one final thrust that has your body sliding up the bed, legs locking around his to keep him close, keep him deep inside. You can feel the white-hot heat of him painting your insides, spurting out of him while his face stays buried in your chest. He pulls one hand from your hair, slams his fist against the mattress, as his chest starts to heave, deep breaths pushing his muscled torso against yours. You can feel every ridge and line of him, his cock twitching inside you, muscles jumping against your skin.

You’re expecting him to disappear, to roll off of you and hit the shower, leave you to clean up the mess he’s turned you into. But he doesn’t. He stays right where he is, between your legs, and after a moment, pulls his head up, adjust himself slightly, kisses you softly.

His hand reaches for your jaw again, but this time his grip is feather-light. His thumb drags across your chin, again and again, following the curve of your lower lip while his eyes trace over your face. “You really are something, sweetheart,” he whispers, and it puts a grin on your face, “you know that?”

“I do,” you throw back, smiling at him, reaching your hand to drag fingers up and down his back.

“Smart ass.”

+

Frank wakes the next morning to an empty motel room. Any and all trace of you is gone, your shotgun missing from the other bed, your mess of a coat picked up off the floor. You even cleaned your blood off the countertop.

But the sheets still smell like you, and if he thinks hard, he can feel the outline of you pressed against him, limbs tangled in his. He doesn’t have to think hard to remember how you felt underneath him, however, that obedient little thing he managed to turn you into, so good and so pretty and so perfect.

It makes his cock jump between his legs just thinking about it. About you.

He gets up slowly, gathers his things. Finds the gold card somewhere between his boots and his jeans, the stupid thing cracked down the middle. He picks it up, snaps it in two, tosses the pieces in the trash. 

When he goes to pack his kit, that’s when he sees it.

A cellphone, one of those cheap burner things you can buy at the gas station. It’s got one of those stupid dangly charms attached to it, cheap plastic shaped to look like angel’s wings. He smirks. Hell’s Angel.

And, hastily scrawled on shitty motel stationary, the pen ink barely legible, is a note from you.

hiya frank,

I can’t stay in new york, not with gold cards floating around with my name on ‘em.

hope you understand. last night was…bliss.

give me a call if you end up in chicago and you’re looking for round two

sweetheart xoxo

Frank just grins, shakes his head, and jams the phone into his pocket.

————

tagging: @saintmurd0ck @thesongof-thestars @moonlarking @grippingbeskar @itwasthereaminuteago

[inklore]

involuted

premise: the only thing complicated about yours and wades relationship was who was going to be on top before the other could claim bottom, and the annoying little buzzing in your stomach you got anytime he was around.

pairing: wade wilson x (f)reader

word count: 881

warnings: eighteen+ content, sexwork, m receiving oral, throatfucking, sarcasm, established friends with benefits relationship, this doesn’t have a time stamp but reader definitely knows he is deadpool, one sided pining.

etc: since this is my first time writing for wade i wouldn't classify this as being the bestttt but it's a start and i am totally down to write for him again in the future.

kinktober 05 | kinktober masterlist

Yours and Wade’s relationship was a complicated one—if you considered him showing up at your doorstep, or busting through your window in his little red suit to occupy your bed and your body, and then leaving some bills on your bedside table before he left, then yeah, super complicated.

If you didn’t inspect your weird friendship that was sort of affection—and that alone—then it had complicated written all over it.

But if you took the relationship at face value that you only saw Wade when he wanted something from you, that something being one of three holes on your body, and the crisp bills he was definitely helping you pay your rent with; things weren’t so complicated.

You fucked. He paid.

It lost the novelty of ‘service’ long ago when he became your only client.

Finding yourself looking forward to your nights together. A cheerfulness buzzing through your veins when you see him against your white sheets, and the green on your nightstand.

Plus, fucking Wade was easily the best nights of your week you had, compared to when you’re not fucking Wade on the other nights.

The story is too long and you have little energy to delve into how it all started. But three shots of tequila later and a shitty bet, and you’d been on your knees in the bar bathroom, Wade’s dick in your mouth.

A dick that’s currently in your mouth.

Currently hitting the back of your throat making you gag around it, spit coating your lips and cheeks, as Wade pulls your head off the side of the mattress and fucks your mouth.

One hand holding you in place by your jaw, the other around your neck; the outline of his cock moving against his palm as his length reaches parts of your throat you didn’t even let a doctor touch.

Like most things Wade did, his dick was just as impressive.

Impressive and annoyingly good at what it did, a wetness growing between your thighs even as he just uses your mouth. The smirk on his face as he looks down at you, the low grunts that get swallowed down.

You can’t remember how long you’ve been at this, how long he’s had his cock shoved down your throat and tears streaming down your cheeks—your jaw feeling the heavy pull and lock of being left open for far too long.

But you can’t complain. Don’t want to complain.

Not with the ache of arousal at your core and how each bump of the head of his cock at the back of your throat makes your body tremble.

A slew of sarcastic filth slips from his mouth, a praise that makes you preen covered up with something humorous—making you moan around him; before his hips are staggering and he’s holding them in place, your nose flush against his pelvis, as he comes down your throat.

His palm staying at the column of your neck encouraging you to swallow every drop of him.

After you’ve righted yourself, swiping your hand across your mouth to clean it, perching yourself on the edge of the bed, Wade working at the button of his pants as more sarcasm leaves his mouth. As he ventures over to your sink—in your very small apartment—to grab a glass of water, as if he exhausted himself, as if his mutated cells really needed hydration.

“Superheroes, they’re just like us.” You joke, with a smirk.

“Hey!” He points a finger towards you, as he walks back to the edge of the bed. Handing you the glass, “superheroes wish they had this fine stitching and tight ass.”

You hum, smiling around the rim of the glass as you take a few sips. Hating the—complicated—whoosh your stomach does when he wipes away a tear on your cheek you must have missed.

A whoosh that seems to come more often than not when he’s around, a complicated sickly feeling that makes you want to ask him to stay longer; maybe even do something as grotesque as have breakfast together or something.

The curve of his grin let’s you know you’ve been staring at him, ignoring everything that’s came out of his mouth to watch his lips move—lips that seem too plush, too enticing.

“Did I hurt you?”

Your face contorts into an ‘as if’ look, “you’re not that big Wade.”

“Oh, so the gagging and feminine noises of enjoyment were theatrics? I can hear Julliard calling on line one,” he mimics holding up a fake phone to his ear.

“Feminine noises?” You snort with laughter, “your way with words really-”

“Riles you up? Get the juices juicing?”

You fake a gag, shoving the glass of water back in his hand. “Leave before I return your seed to you.”

Wade chuckles under his breath, setting the glass on your bedside table. A screech coming from your abused throat, making it feel even more raw, when he grabs the back of your leg and pulls you so you’re spread out on your back and he’s hovering over you.

“It’s rude to let a customer leave without getting his money's worth.” His forehead pressing against yours, his thumb and forefinger titling your chin up to reach his lips.

Your insides clenching and tangling themselves into a mess; complication be damned.