#why do all the mercs have pants

[voicedbychrispratt]

scouts legs look like this underneath his stupid sweatpants

[nexysworld]

summary: Brat tamed by your step dad. pairing: Step Dad Toji x Fem!Reader tags: NSFW, Smut, Stepcest, Daddy Kink, Age Gap, Pussy Slapping, Spanking, Mean!Toji, Degradation Kink, Unprotected Sex, Manhandling, Dub-con, fem receiving oral, Reader is 18+, MDNI wc: 2.4k

Read on AO3 || Ask Box || Masterlists a/n: this is my first time writing for JJK and Toji, but god am I down BAD for this man. I wanna practice and write more because....yeah. 😏 Title based on the song. Also special thanks to @kaitkatme for beta-reading this for me.

“Fuck off Megumi, you’re always breathing down my neck!” You yelled, chucking the pillow across the room at your step brother. “Seriously, get out!”

“I’m only doing what I’m supposed to as your big brother!” He yelled back, easily dodging the weaponized cushion. “Dudes like that are only looking for one thing. They’re dangerous.” “Really? You sure? I would say you’d know, but I don’t think you’re getting any either.” You replied, rolling your eyes. 

“Whatever, give me the phone.” His hand was stuck out expectantly.  “No way! I’m an adult, I can go out with whoever I want.” 

The two of you tussle back and forth around the room, grappling over the device in your hand. Luckily for you, his back was to your bedroom door, giving you the chance with one good shove to send him staggering backwards into the hallway, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. The door slammed shut with a loud thud, and you clicked the lock to make sure he couldn’t get back in so easily. 

You flopped back down onto the plush bed, intending to return to what you were doing when noise caught your attention. Loud stomping, followed by some muffled arguing – you recognized one of the voices as your step dad, he must’ve been woken up by the argument. 

As the voices got closer you could make out the tail end of the conversation.  “Why don’t you just buckle up and be a father for once.” “Will you stop naggin’ me, she ain’t even my kid.” “She calls you dad.” “So do you, fuckin’ brat. And you don’t listen to me either.”  “You really want her skulking around with one of those mercs? Bet that’ll look real good on you, old man. Your rivals joking about going through rounds with your slutty daughter.” 

“Tch, fine. But only because I’m sick of your fuckin’ nagging kid. We both know she isn’t goin’ to listen t’me.” His footsteps were heavy as they closed in on your room. The front door of the house slammed close downstairs, Megumi having retreated. There was a brief silence outside your door as he pondered what to say before his heavy fist landed on the door a few times. “Open up.”

“Don’t think I will.” You added, not feeling like being lectured again, and especially not by the deadbeat who fucks your mom. Or did fuck your mom, no one really knew where mom was these days. 

There was a huff of frustration as he banged on the door again. “I ain’t askin’ twice.”

“Then don’t.” You lazily went back to scrolling on your phone. 

“You fuckin’ brats are really startin’ to piss me off today.” A loud boom rattled the walls, nearly giving you a heart attack. Your bedroom door had been kicked right off the hinges, the top half of the door tangling by what was left of a single screw, the bottom half launched into the wall across the room. 

You’d seen Toji go at it with Megumi before, tossing all sorts of things at him with his absurd inhuman strength, but you’d never been the target of that anger before. Your mouth opened in shock, ready to say something, but words caught in your throat as he marched towards you.

“First I’m woken up because the two of you can’t keep yer traps shut. Then I get an earful about you running off with some merc kid – thought I raised you better than that.” “You didn’t raise me at all!” Toji had been around as long as you could remember, probably the closest thing you’d ever have to a real dad. Except he only really acted like a father when he was trying to get in your moms pants – or when you made cute bait for a potential bounty he was trying to collect on.  “Shut it.” He said, towering over you. “Screw you!” You spat indignantly.  “I ain’t dealin’ with any more shit today.” It always impressed you how fast he was, for such a large buff guy. Even still, it shocked you how quickly he managed to flip your positions, him sitting on the bed, you bent over his lap. The only noise you could get out was a yelp as his hand collided with your clothed butt cheek, the red hot warmth of pain radiating outwards.  “What happened to that filthy mouth?” He asked mockingly, this time tugging your pajama pants down to expose the plush mounds of your ass. “Come on princess, you wanna talk like a big bad adult, then talk.” He brought his hand down again, this one knocking the wind out of you, making your legs kick behind you tangled in your pajama pants – fat hot tears forming in your waterline. “No? Nothing?” He asked again, as he continued his onslaught, large hand imprinting its shape on you. “That’s what I thought. Shoulda knocked some manners into both you brats forever ago.” 

He shoved you off of him, making you tumble head first onto the floor. Your face was red with anger, cheeks puffed out, righting yourself just enough to look up at him, still tangled in your own pants. He looked down at you amused, scanning your form. He grabbed your face with his hand, squishing your cheeks together, forcing you into a kissy face. “Now that’sa look.” He mused. “Acting like you’re ready to go run around with boys, but can’t even stop snottin’ and cryin’ like a kid after getting spanked by your Daddy.” You wanted to say something back, insult him, tell him to shut up. But you couldn’t, ass sore, mouth still pushed out between his fingers. Instead, you glared him down as best you could.

“What was your plan anyway? Hope he’d take you somewhere fancy, call you pretty names while he licked that little cunt? Or were you hopin’ he’d be mean, put you in your place.” He chuckled, leaning forward so your faces were close together again. “Maybe Megumi was right – ‘m gonna have to listen to stories from half the guild about my slutty little girl, aren’t I?”  “N-no!” You managed to squeak out at the accusation, it fell on deaf ears as he continued rambling his own thoughts. “Only thing I can’t understand is why you’d pick some loser I work with. When ‘m sure there’s plenty of punks crawling around this city, ready to get their dicks wet.” His eyes narrowed, a smug ear to ear grin taking over his features. “Oh, I get it now, you want someone just like your Daddy, don’t you?”  Heat pooled between your legs at his words, cheeks on fire with embarrassment more than anger now. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping he didn’t notice. He let go of your face finally, red finger marks lingering on your skin. Despite having the chance to speak, you were stunned into silence. 

He noticed.

Of course he noticed. 

Toji yanked you up by your arm, roughly pulling you into his lap, pressed against his chest with your head over his shoulder. His large, rough fingers trailed down the semi-circle of your ass cheek to dip lower from behind, gently brushing against your slicked folds.  “Looks like I’m right on the mark.” “N-nuh uh!” You denied, exasperated.

“Dumb little brat, runnin’ around looking for trouble when all you need is your Daddy, right here at home.” He played with you a little, stuffing his index finger into your wet heat, his thumb rubbing against your clit in even circular motions. You whined, squirming your legs at the sensation, feeling your walls clamp around the digit. What remained of your dignity was fleeting, as you felt his cock press against your leg through his pants. “Looks like she’s been cryin’ for attention – no wonder you’ve been such a bitch lately. Shoulda known it woulda been easier to just fuck the ‘tude out of you.” 

He pulled his hand out of you so he could toss you unceremoniously onto the bed, ripping your panties and pajama pants off the rest of the way. By the time he yanked your shirt up, your hands were covering your face in embarrassment.  “Nah, none of that shy shit.” He chided, easily gathering both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Look at me, princess.” He used his free hand to force you to meet his gaze again. “You wanted this, remember? So you’re gonna be a good girl and watch while Daddy makes you feel good, understand?” You scrunched up your face in a glare again, still not wanting to give him the satisfaction of absolute obedience. The hand holding your face collided with your cheek in a sharp slap, making your tits bounce a little as you jerked with the motion. “You wanna keep that brat shit up and I’ll just fuck you raw instead, how about that?”  “W-wait no!” You exclaimed.  “S’what I thought.” Your step dad let go of your wrists so he could lift your lower half up, tossing one leg over his shoulder, tongue messily sliding up your slit before lapping at the bead of nerves. Like most things with Toji, he was quick, flicking his tongue side to side before circling it around your clit.  His hands dug into your hips with a bruising grip, you looked up catching the top of his head and eyes between your legs. Eyes squeezing shut in short-lived pleasure. “G-guah!” You made a sound, a mix between a moan and a yelp as you felt a lightly stinging slap to your pussy, eyes shooting back open.  “What did I say?” “T-to watch.” Another slap against your pussy made you squeal. “Then why were your eyes closed, hmm?” “‘M sorry!” Another one, this time angled just right that you managed to feel it against your clit too. “Wh-why?” “You’re sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” You replied. “Good girl.” Praise from him was rare, and while it was dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help the way it made your chest flutter. He resumed his meal between your legs, messily slurping you into his mouth. Your body felt like it was burning up, pleasuring pulsing between your legs each time he applied pressure with his wet muscle to your clit. 

Your back arched in pleasure, legs kicking at his back as you came, hard. “Oh god.” You whined, not able to keep your eyes open this time as waves of pleasure rolled over you, through your stiffened muscles. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care this time, dropping your lower half down so he could wipe your slick from his chin with the back of his hand. 

Your eyes, half lidded, watched as he reached down, pulling himself free of his gray pants. You let out an audible surprised sound as you watched him stroke himself a few times. It was thick from tip to base, uncut with pearly beads of precum that dribbled onto your thigh with each stroke. He ran his thumb over the tip, hissing at the sensation before rubbing it along your bottom lip, letting you taste him. Greedily you sucked the digit into your mouth, grinding your hips up when you tasted the slightly bitter liquid.

“Shit. You’re fuckin’ cute, I’ll give you that.” He said, pulling his hand back to line himself up with your entrance. He pushed into you, grunting as your tight walls clenched around him. “Tight as hell too. Relax.” He groaned, sinking inch by inch into you until the tip of his cock pressed snuggly against your cervix. It was overwhelming how full you felt, like you’d be split in half if he were any bigger. 

Not one for patience he leaned forward, nearly folding you in half, as he slid out to the tip before slamming back in, watching as you writhed beneath him, gripping the sheets. Your pupils were blown, you could feel his breath against your face again with how close he was in this position.  “Look at you givin’ me those lovey dovey eyes. Want a kiss too?” He asked. “Please?” You nodded, letting go of the bedding to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. He obliged the request, pressing his lips to yours – rough and slightly chapped. He gave a few shallow thrusts while tangling your tongues together, pulling away just enough to give him a better angle to fuck into you harder.  “S’too much.” You croaked as he set a steady pace, brutally pumping himself inside of you. “S’too much.” You repeated, eyes scrunching shut, overstimulated between the stretch and speed of his movements. “S’okay, you can take it.” He replied, between movements.  You clung to him tightly, a fresh set of tears brimming at your eyes, toes curling with pleasure. “‘D-daddy.” You sobbed out, clawing at his back. Each time he sunk back into you, he hit a special spot, one so deep you’d never reach it on your own. It made stars sparkle on the back of your eyelids. 

“That’s m’girl, let it all out. Gonna fill this bratty little hole up, make sure she remembers who’s in charge, yeah? Gonna be a good girl from now on?” “Mhmm.” You replied, so close to your second orgasm. “Never be bad…nnng…again….” Your muscles tensed, the pressure exploding again as you cried out, second orgasm exhausting the last of your energy. Your velvety walls clamping down were enough to bring him to completion too, his cock twitching as hot cum spurted out, drooling into your spent hole. 

Eyelids heavy with exhaustion, you barely registered when Toji pulled out, or when he’d laid down next to you tucking you into his side. Your body naturally curled into his warmth, head sinking into the pillow as sleep pulled you under. 

It wasn’t until you heard the telltale sounds of arguing again did you even bother to crack one eye open. Megumi stood in the broken doorway, looking like steam was coming out of his ears. “What?” Toji asked lazily. “You didn’t want her goin’ with that guy, now she’s not. Problem solved.”  “Problem not solved –” He began, before you chucked a pillow at him again.  “Go away, Megumi.” You groaned, burying your face back into your step dad’s chest to resume your nap, too tired to feel any sense of shame or embarrassment in the moment. 

[lunatic-pudge]

TF2 Mercs Green Flags (except it's very biased)

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I love my boys. Yes, this is biased and questionable. But this is meant to be cute and fun.

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Scout:

-Silly little goober, great person to be around when you need cheering up

-Golden retreiver boyfriend

-Can easily make you laugh without even trying

-Artsy fartsy

Pyro

-Cutie patootie who makes the cutest drawings of you two together

-Owns an Easy Bake Oven

-Master at baking, never-ending supply of sweets for you to indulge in

-Your biggest supporter. Would literally cheer for you if you rob a bank

Soldier

-Also your biggest supporter, will demand that other adore you as well

-Will let you own any pet you want no matter what the animal is

-Speeches of why you're the best thing to ever exist and how America is blessed to have such a beauty like you live there

-Will give you anything and everything you could ever want, like human ears. Definitely a good person to be if you like collecting weird stuff

Demo

-Precious baby boy is a major cuddle bug

-Def knows how to knit/crochet, will make you whatever you want

-Baby man likes learning about folklore/mythology

-He's essentially a big walking teddy bear. Perfect for cuddles, especially on a cold or rainy day

Heavy

-GIANT WALKING TEDDY BEAR

-Protective baby boy, big scary dog privleges

-Bookworm, can recommend a good book if you don't know what to read

-Perfect person to lay around and cuddle with, he can smother me any day. Dates at home are TOP TIER

Engie

-THE BEST PERSON TO GO TO WHEN YOU'RE HAVING AN OFF DAY HANDS DOWN

-Smart boy, can make you stuff that helps with day to day activities which is helpful if you can't do certain things to having a disability or something

-Dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, can't get enough of it

-Voice of an angel, will sing for you if you'd like. Can def sing you to sleep

Medic

-NERD, he's an adorable nerd! Let him ramble about his hyperfixations!

-Def a good pet owner, would kill someone if they don't take proper care of their pets

-Would make sure you take care of yourself, he's kinda like a dad that cares

-He's such a maniac. I can see him just secretly being up to no good all the time. And he's also very girlypop

-Putting an extra for him cause I can: Medic boobs. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

Sniper

-Sweet, precious baby boy who can do no wrong. He strikes me as someone who listens to EVERYTHING when it comes to music. He ain't genrephobic

-Also a collector of weird things. Likes making bone jewlery. Bone boy

-I just love the concept of him being feral? This is probably the weirdest thing on the list. Like there's the golden retreiver boyfriend (Scout), and then there's the feral boyfriend (Sniper). Literally acts like a cat, hiding away from people, hissing when people that aren't you tries to touch him, will demand attention/affection from you, ect. I need to make a more detailed idea of a feral boyfriend so work with me plz

-He would absolutely let you wear his clothes, thinking about how adorable you look. He'd do the same with your clothes if they're big enough for his lanky body. You two swap jackets in the winter time so you guys always have a piece of each other when you two are busy and aren't able to see each other

Spy

-I know a running joke is that Spy is a smelly French asshole, but I really do think that he wears some of the nicest smelling cologne out there. Expensive af colonge, but damn, it's addicting

-Smarty pants. Not just anyone can be a spy, it takes quite a bit of intellect for it. And not to mentions he knows multiple languages? Love it, even if I hate the French language with a burning passion

-Him having a good taste in fashion? He's gotta know what he's doing by wearing suits all the time. Not only does he look fresh af, but people always look so good in a suit, especially when it fits them. But please also picture him dressed in a more romantic goth aesthetic plz, okay I'll stop now

-Is good at paying attention to even the littlest of details about his partners. Even if you're trying to be cryptic or subtle about things, he'll always find out. He's def a protective type too

[monzabee]

this is a relationship, that i don’t think anyone saw coming  – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Charles think you are successfully fooling everyone on the grid, when in reality you are the ones being fooled.

Pairing: charles leclerc x merc!driver!reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: cursing, kissing, hiding a relationship (and doing it very badly), smut elements! (in one of the scenes, nothing penetrative), idiots to lovers, sexism and racism in motorsports, pop culture references (bad and many of them).

Request: “Hello! Can I request a charles leclerc imagine where the reader is a f1 driver and they try to hide their relationship from the paddock, but everyone knows and in the end they just reveal it. Thanks xx” + “this is not a request, but, can you use a dialogue from one of your favourite tv shows/series?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! the title comes from an episode of the kardashians, but it was very popular on tiktok for a while so here you go! the request for this one was so good, and i had so much fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i do. the dialogue i used for the second request/promt is from season 1 episode 9 of suits, which is one of my absolute favourite tv series of all time (even though it has too many legal inaccuracies), and you can watch the scene from here. ALSO, because i can never choose one, i decided to use another dialogue from season 1 episode 18 of gilmore girls, and i think it is the best piece of television ever written, and you can watch it from here. there are a bunch of pop culture references in there, so if you can spot them, you are a star! thank you anons for your requests, and i hope you guys enjoy this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles is not stupid, in fact, he prides himself in being smart. However, as one of his best friends are looking at him with an unamused glare, he suddenly fears that he might have been stupid when he was getting ready before arriving at the venue for the party tonight.

“You are not dressed,” Pierre drawls, “What are you wearing?”

“A suit?” Charles asks, confused as he looks at his friend’s attire. “What are you wearing?” 

Pierre points to the outfit he’s wearing, which consists of brown pants with a linen shirt and a brown vest thrown over it, an annoyed look washes over his face as he explains, “I’m Indiana Jones, this is a costume party, Charles.” 

“Why would you have a costume party when you’re turning 27?” Charles’ face scrunches up in even more confusion. 

“Because it’s fun, and it’s my birthday.” Pierre rolls his eyes, “We have to do something about it; Kika, I need help!” He calls out to her girlfriend, who rushes into the room in a white dress and a very voluminous blonde wig. 

“What’s wrong?” Kika asks, her eyes falling on Charles’ outfits as she groans disappointedly, “Who are you supposed to be?” 

“I didn’t know!” Charles argues. 

“Mate,” Pierre objects, “it was on the invitation; ‘Hollywood Icons’?” 

“We can fix this,” Kika tries to offer Charles a supportive smile. “You could be… Patrick Bateman?” 

Charles’ eyes widen with shock, “From ‘American Psycho’?”

“Morbid, Kiks,” Pierre shakes his head. 

Kika shrugs, “He’s hot. What about Brad Pitt in ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith’?”

“Does he even wear a suit in that one?” Pierre asks, still shaking his head in thought. 

Kika lets out a loud groan, “James Bond!”

“That could work–” Charles start saying at the same time Pierre objects, “The suit is not sharp enough.” 

“Then give him a tie, Pierre.” Kika frowns. “God, the two of you are like children, not even the girls had this much trouble, and the two of us almost matched.” 

You’re shivering when you finally arrive at the venue thanks to the thin trench coat thrown over your costume. You link your arm with Lily, who is holding Alex’s hand and the two of them are dressed up as Jack and Rose. “Why are we doing this, again?”

“Because we like Pierre, he is nice.” Lily turns to Alex to let him fix her ginger wig for her as she replies to you.

“I don’t know, I think I want to go back to the hotel.” You mumble, your hands nervously playing with the belt of your coat. 

“Just give it a try, Y/N,” Alex smiles at you. “We’ll take you back if you’re still feeling nervous.” 

You nod your head with a sigh as you let Lily pull you in towards the entrance of the apartment building. You’re too busy admiring the Italian architecture when you hear a squeal. “You guys made it!” Alex excuses himself to go greet some of the other drivers and you smile at Kika as she pulls you and Lily in for a hug at the same time as she chants, “I’m dying to see your guys’ costumes, show me, show me!”

You laugh softly as you take of your coat, pulling gasps from both of the girls looking over your outfit. “You both knew what my costume was going to be!” You whine, holding your coat close to your body. 

“I didn’t know it was going to be –” Lily starts, looking at Kika for help. 

“Tight,” Kika clears her throat, “it’s very tight, and your body looks amazing!” 

“You’re literally a model, Kiks,” you mumble, “can we please focus on Lily and how historically accurate her costume is? Not to mention yours, I mean, Marilyn?”

“You look amazing, Lily.” Kika agrees, giving her a warm smile. “And thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Kika,” she turns to you, “thank you, Y/N. I’m going to find Alex, meet you at the bar?” 

“Sure, see you.” You tell her, smiling as she starts to walk towards the crowd. 

“Let me take your coat,” Kika leans over you. “You should grab a drink before more people arrive, Pierre made sure to invite half of the city, it seems like.” 

You thank her before she leaves to hang your coat, taking a deep breath as you start moving between dancing people, some of whom greet you as you make your way towards the bar. You give the bar tender a tight smile as you order yourself a gin and tonic, strawberry, of course. The first thing Charles notices about you is your hair, having memorised all the different tones mixed between your locks. His eyes travels down your body, his eyes linger particularly on your dress; the white bodice is connected to the tie dye skirt by a metal circle, and it is oh so tight, accentuating all your curves in the best way possible. His legs start to move towards you in their own volition when his eyes reach the leather thigh-high boots, his voice is thick as he approach you from your right. “Y/N.” 

You look at him with your lips parted in shock, your voice coming out in a low breath. “Charles, you’re here.” You let him take one of your hands into his as you lock eyes with him. “I thought you were going to be in Monaco.” 

“I was already in Italy for the car testing.” He explains, his fingers gently caress your inner wrist. “I’ve missed you. Were you back at home?” 

“I’ve missed you too,” a smile takes over your face, “yes, I’m trying to get used to changing cities.” 

“I’ll give you a private tour when we go back.” He offers, eliciting a giggle from you as you reach for your drink and take a sip from the straw. His breath hitches for a moment when he focuses too much on the way your red-painted lips close around the plastic, but he’s quick to shake it off. “Did you see the pictures on Twitter?”

“The ones with Frédéric?” You ask him and he nods in return. The pictures he is referring to being his new team principle giving your four-year-old niece some daisies. There is a teasing smile on your lips as you say, “Don’t worry, Charles, I’m not coming for a Ferrari seat. He was just giving Cecily some flowers when we were passing by.” 

“I wish you would’ve brought her into the garage, I’ve missed her.” The pout he’s sporting lets you know that he is being genuine and not putting on a show for your attention. 

“You know I couldn’t, I had to get back to my own garage before the race.” The emphasis you use makes him roll his eyes as his fingers occupy themselves with the stacked bracelets on your wrist. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“James Bond.” He replies in an unattached voice, exhaling a deep breath. “I didn’t realise it was a costume party.”

“Charles,” you laugh, head tilted to the side as you keep holding his gaze, “it was on the invitation, darling.” 

He groans, “I know that, now. Pierre was not impressed when I first showed up.”

“I can imagine.” You agree in a sympathetic voice. “Maybe we should’ve thought of something before you left last week.”

“Oh, yeah, like what? Vivian?” He smirks, his eyes going over your body once more, but without any shame this time. “Do you have any idea how great you look?”

“It was the last movie we watched.” You shrug, a coy smile on your lips. “Maybe you could’ve been a ballerina, like Natalie Portman, in ‘Black Swan’.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh please, you know how good my legs would look in tights compared to yours.” 

“Oh, chéri,” You tut, stepping closer to him as you rake your fingers down on his tie. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“I would crush you.” He challenges as he lifts an eyebrow.

You shake your head. “You wouldn’t touch me.” 

“Why not?” He asks, amused. 

You shrug in a nonchalant manner. “Because you'd be too busy staring at me in tights.” 

“No I wouldn’t,” Charles argues, shaking his head slightly. 

“You’re doing it right now.” You sing in a light voice. 

“You’re not wearing any.” He points out, his hands moving to rest on the bare skin of your waist, curtesy of the cut-outs your dress provides. 

You tug on his tie to draw him closer to you, his lips lingering near his ear as you whisper, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

He is left speechless when you let him go, grab your drink and start walking towards your teammate, making sure to add an extra sway to your hips because you know Charles is watching you to confirm what you’ve just told him. 

You have a secret, and it’s big – big, huge. And it has something to do with the Monegasque laying beneath you. Charles talks about the last few days he spent at the Ferrari factory as you listen to him, your eyes focused on the way his face moves through various expressions when he talks about the car. Your chin is placed on your hands which are placed together on his chest, giving you the perfect view of his face. His fingers are moving on the bare skin on your back, the white bed sheet pulled up only enough to cover the globe of your ass. Although you try your best to keep up with his stream of consciousness, humming where accurate and asking him questions here and there, but Charles can see the sleepy look in your eyes through your hooded eyes. 

“Are you okay, mon soleil?” He asks, his chest rumbling with his voice underneath your hands. 

“Sleepy,” you mumble, leaning up against him to bury your face against the side of his neck, “you’re warm, though.” 

He pulls the sheet up your body; interpreting the way you shiver as you being cold, when the actual reason is the pleasure the skin to skin contact brings. “You can go back to sleep; we still have some time.” The incoherent mumbles leaving your lips makes him chuckle, which in return makes you smile against him. Your fingers trace over the edge of his five o’clock shadow, and you suddenly find yourself thanking whatever deity is up there that he forgot to shave because of all the commotion of travelling over the past few days. “What did you just say?”

“It’s just funny that you tell me I should sleep after you’ve kept me up the entire night, darling.” Your breathy chuckle hits the side of his neck as he lets out a chuckle of his own. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining at any point,” he raises one of  his brows, earning him a pat against his chest and you making yourself rise enough to glare at him. 

You try your best to frown at him, locking your gaze with his, as you can feel the heat starting to rise up to your face at the mention of your not so innocent activities of last night. “You’re incorrigible, Charles.” 

“Oh, chérie,” he coos, brushing the pad of his thumb over the swell of your cupids-bow. You’re about to give in and give him a kiss when he rises up, himself, with a frown and you in his arms. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask in a worried voice, following his line of vision to your closed bedroom door. 

“Does anyone else have your keys?” Charles asks, “I heard the front door open–”

Your eyes widen as you scramble to get off him, pulling the sheet up to cover your nakedness. “Charles, hide!” You hiss, while trying to force him to move. 

“Y/N?” You hear your assistant, Margo, yell through the house. “I got those thermal things you wanted!” 

“One second, please!” You call back to her, looking at Charles with pleading eyes. Thankfully, he manages to hide underneath the sheets just before Margo barges into the room. Even more luckily, the duvet over the sheets ends up hiding his body seamlessly. “Hi, Margo.” You give her the best smile you can muster up under the situation, your hand still clutching the bedsheet on your chest with enough force to make your hand hurt. 

“Oh my god, are you naked under there?” Margo babbles, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Since when do you sleep naked?”

“Um… I heard it’s good for your circulation?” You answer her in an unsure voice, causing Charles to tighten his hands on your thighs in warning, you have no idea how he managed to squeeze between them in the first place. “Thank you for the thermals, you’re an angel.”

“N-no problem.” She smiles at you nervously, obviously stressed because of the lack of clothes on your body for the sake of professionalism. “Toto wanted me to tell you that he is meeting up with Lewis for lunch later and asked me to ask you to join them if you were free.” 

“Sure, do you know wh-when?” You stutter during the last word, feeling Charles’ fingers and breath coming closer to your center. 

Margo checks her watch, then looks back up at you. “Around three, at that Italian place the team went out for dinner the last time.” 

You nod in acknowledgement as you try the remember the exact location of the restaurant she mentioned, gasping because Charles decides to give your clit a little lick before taking it between his lips to gently suck on it. “I’ll be there!” You rush out, hands gripping the white sheet even tighter. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Margo asks while eyeing you up with worry, “Should I take you to a doctor, or something?” 

“Oh no, I’m fine, honey.” You wave her off with a nervous chuckle. “I think it’s all in your – head!”

“Um.. okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Margo mumbles as she leaves your room with red cheeks. 

You throw your head back in a groan over the awkward encounter, waiting until hearing the front door open and close before pulling the sheets back and glaring at the man between your thighs, who still has his mouth on you, by the way. “You are evil, Charles, pure evil! What were you thinking?” 

He draws back slightly to raise a questioning brow. “Do you want me to stop?” However, he resumes his torture when you don’t answer him, looking up at you while grinning like the devil himself as he murmurs into your skin, “That’s what I thought.”

It’s hard, being a woman in the motorsport world, and especially in F1. While some may say it’s unprecedented, and you’d agree, you also think there’s going to be misogynistic pigs in any sector you might end up working in, so why not have some fun? The article comes out the day before the race, right before the qualifying session. You’re not the one to check your phone before going on track, but an urge to do so pokes at you when you realise people are giving you worried looks in the Mercedes garage. Your jaw tightens as you read through the article, fingers tightening around your phone as you read every single sexist comment being made about the way you dress, talk, and your entire F1 career and accomplishments being discredited just because of your gender. You’re absolutely fuming as you throw your phone onto the couch in your driver’s room and grab your helmet and balaclava as you walk briskly towards the garage. 

Both Toto and Lewis look at you with surprised, but worried, looks as you announce, “Make me go out first.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Toto asks, sharing a worried glance with Lewis. “You usually wait for a while for other people to–.” 

“No, I’m sure.” You tug on your balaclava as you add, “Make sure I’m on softs, please.” 

The two men watch you walk off towards your car, Lewis mumbling, “Hell hath no fury like the woman scorned.” The Austrian turns to him, eyebrows raised, which causes him to roll his eyes. “Yes, Toto, I read.”

You’re a force to be reckoned with on track during qualifying. Although having not the best start to the season, you push your Mercedes to its absolute limits, managing to outpace even the Red Bulls, and constantly asking your engineer for another lap until Toto has to ask you to retire for the day – in long story short, you are the pole sitter for the Sunday’s race. There are four people waiting for you when you get out of your car, those four people being: Toto, Susie, Lewis and Mick – though you’re pretty sure the latter was dragged into this intervention because you’re usually unable to get angry next to the reserve driver. 

“You were reckless out there, Y/N.” Toto frowns, crossing his arms over his chest (Mick copies his actions, nodding, as he does his best to give you a stern look). 

“I drove the best I have in over a year,” you argue, “we are starting on P1 tomorrow because of my driving today.” 

“I don’t care if we start P20, you know you shouldn’t have gone out there that angry!” Susie places a pacifying hand on your team principle’s arm when his voice gets higher. 

“We know you were angry about the article,” Lewis starts, but you cut him off as you grumble,

“A very astute conversation, Lewis.” You snap, not allowing him to continue as you begin ranting, “He called me a ‘Malibu Barbie’, and suggested that I should find another career, do you know how disheartening that is?”

“They called me Ken once,” Mick mumbles with a small pout on his lips, quickly mumbling “sorry,” when you give him a scathing look. 

“There will always be journalists who are against you and me,” Lewis goes on to remind you, “I told that before you signed, and before your first race.” 

“I know, but–” You stop to swallow down a sob, tilting your head back to delay the tears which are threatening to come out. “They implied that I’ve slept my way up to where I am today,” you inhale a deep breath as your voice wavers, “I’m so tired of my accomplishments being reduced to this.” 

“Men will always be afraid of women who have the ability to be better at their jobs than they are,” Susie smiles softly at you – soft, but not pitiful, you realise. “It doesn’t mean that we should give up, it means that we do our best to make sure they are proved wrong.” 

“You could’ve hurt yourself and others today,” Toto shakes his head, “you almost collided with both of the Ferraris.” 

Your entire break pauses at the mention of the red cars, mind quickly drifting to the owner of the eyes you love looking into, but you’re quick to snap yourself out, “Are they okay?”

“Both Carlos and Charles are fine,” Susie assures you.

“No more reckless driving,” Toto points a finger at you and then to Lewis, who raises his arms in surrender. “I mean it.” He pats you on the back before leaving, whispering a quick, “Good job today, kiddo.” 

“Why do I get in trouble because of you?” Lewis wonders aloud, his hands on his hips. 

“We haven’t been teammates for that long, Lewis.” You squint your eyes. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Mick asks with a concerned look on his face. 

You nod in thought, pointed to both of them. “I will be, but I need both of your help.” 

Mick gulps, voice tentative as he asks, “We’re not doing anything illegal, are we?”

After you’re done explaining your plan to your teammates, you say goodbye to both of them and make your way towards your driver’s room. Charles gets up, quickly, from the couch as you enter, shocked expressions on both of your faces. “H-how did you get in here?”

“I had to sneak in through the back,” he explains as he gets closer to you, hands quickly cup your cheek for his thumbs to swipe under your eyes. “Chérie, did you cry?”

“I- no!” You shake your head as you try to get him off. “I’m just- ugh, I’m just so angry!”

He lets you rant in his arms, eventually giving in and shedding a few tears of frustration, but he doesn’t comment until you’re done with your thoughts, and when he does comment, it is not to undermine your feelings. He takes you back to the hotel, and before the two of you leave your garage, he sneaks a soft kiss on your lips which has you melting in his arms. Unbeknown to you, Susie, Toto and Lewis watch the interaction from the other end of the corridor, with the latter murmuring, “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” Lewis gives Toto a side-eye as the team principle looks at him with the same surprised look from before, “For the last time, man, I read!”

All the eyes in the car are on you, the next morning when you, Mick and Lewis arrive to the track in the same car. “You ready to leave?” Lewis asks you, looking at you from the rear-view mirror from the passenger seat; Mick drove to the track instead of you because you told them both there was no way you were driving with the heels you wore today. 

“It’s now or never,” you mutter, subconsciously fixing your hair.

“Give them hell.” Mick turns back to smile at you, and you give him a nervous smile as you exit the car. 

A few people around the entrance turn to give you funny looks, you reply to some of them by offering a thin-lipped smile. The real show starts when you finally enter the racing grounds, photographers turning to snap a picture of you when they realise it’s actually you. You plaster on a plastic smile, waving at them as you do your absolute best to walk in the 6-inch heels which were definitely not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.

“Hi, Barbie!” A similar voice calls out to you, and you smile genuinely for the first time as you call back. ,

“Hi, Ken!” You turn towards Pierre, pushing your sunglasses up towards your hair as you watch the Frenchman walk towards you with Carlos and Charles behind him. 

“Please tell me it’s a wig,” Carlos frowns, his eyes lingering on your suddenly platinum hair. 

“I’m having fun as a blonde, Carlos.” You shrug innocently, your arms crossing over your chest, and the pink dress you’ve decided to wear for the occasion. 

Pierre nods in support, “Blondes do have more fun, Carlos.” 

“I- Why?” Carlos asks, not getting the joke shared between you and Pierre. “I don’t understand.” 

“Fine, no soup for you, then.” You mumble rolling your eyes. However, your eyes widen when you realise he genuinely doesn’t get the reference. “Seriously- Carlos, it’s from Seinfeld.” 

“I’ve never watched it.” He admits, his frown still prominent on his face. 

“It’s okay, mate,” Pierre assures him taking him away to explain the joke to him, which leaves you and Charles alone. 

You turn to Charles with a coy smile on your face. “You like the new look?”

“I- but, when?” He asks you, more confused then ever. “You were not blonde when I left last night.”

“Mick bought the dye for me.” You explain, trying to supress a grin. “We stayed up all night trying to bleach my hair.” 

“You stayed up all night?” Charles asks, more concerned now that he learns that you didn’t have a good night’s sleep. “That’s so wrong, mon soleil, why did you do it? Is it about the article? Of course, it is.” 

“Charles, calm down, darling.” You place a hand on his chest, even though you’re hyperaware of the fact that both of you are out in the open. “I’m just going to prove something, alright? I feel fine.” 

“You should’ve slept.” Charles frowns, taking a deep breath. “Are you sure you feel good enough to be in a car?”

You nod excitedly. “Positive, I have a race to win. And wait until you see what Lewis and I are going to wear.” 

“I can’t wait, chérie.” 

Just as you promised Charles, you win the race. Your pace is even better than the previous day, but instead of being fuelled by anger, you are fuelled by determination to win. Your engineers play Aqua’s Barbie Girl as a surprise, and to make things even better, Lewis and you stand on the podium in a Mercedes 1-2 in your matching pink helmets and shoes – even Toto donned pink glasses for the occasion. Charles lets out a hearty laugh alongside you on the podium when he sees your outfits. Yeah, you decide in that moment, this one is for the girls.

You and Charles’ relationship happened so unexpectedly, but that doesn’t mean that you regret a secret moment of it. It all started when you were moving to Monte Carlo at the end of last year’s season, and Charles was the only one available to help you in the process – not that you asked him of course, he offered you to help because he is a gentleman like that. It didn’t take the both of you long enough to go on dates as you spent more and more time together, and it was a natural transition to both of you dating each other exclusively. Despite what you expected, the first time Charles actually kissed you was on a cliff overlooking the entirety of Monte Carlo, the view was beautiful, but you were still apprehensive because of your location on the cliff. So, being the gentleman he is, Charles offered to hold you, and that’s when he decided to kiss you. 

Lewis comes back to the table after taking a phone call as he apologises, “Sorry, I was on the phone; long distance.”

“God?” You ask him, mockingly nodding, which makes George and Carmen laugh.

“London,” Lewis clarifies as he gives you a questioning look. 

You gasp as you ask. “God lives in London?” 

“No, my mother in lives in London.” Lewis replies in the calmest voice he can muster. 

“You mother is God?” You ask right back, without the appearance of joking. Your small discussion grabs the attention of other drivers and couples as the two of you continue bickering. 

“Y/N,” Lewis tries to warn you, but you continue on with your rant. 

Leaning towards Charles, Alex and Lily who are seated close together, you announce, “So, God is a woman.” 

“Y/N!” Lewis groans this time. 

“And my teammates mother, it’s so cool! I’m definitely going to ask for strategy points for the next season.” 

The table shares a laugh as you and Lewis continue bickering back and forth, eliciting laughs from people who watch you with amusement. Eventually, Pierre clears his throat. “Okay, what is everyone’s plans for the break?” he asks, trying to look over the long table. 

“Isa and I are off to Mallorca,” Carlos announces as she presses a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m going back home,” Yuki shrugs. 

“I’m going to see Chloe and Scotty,” Lance mumbles, “and probably Daniel, too.” 

Everyone goes around to announce their plans for the break, but when it comes to you and Charles, you are nervous as you announce, “I’m just going to stay home, get to know the city, you know?”

“Yeah, same.” Charles nods, thinking he got away with his evasive answer. 

“You’re going to get to know the city you were born and raised in?” Fernando asks with a knowing smirk. 

“You can always find new things if you know where to look,” Charles replies in a serious tone, trying to appear stern as he nods to strengthen his point. You’re busy squeezing his hand under the table to death. 

“Yeah, like what?” Max asks, which earns him a slap on the arm from Kelly. “What? I’m curious.” 

“Like, umm, like-like cafés, and bookshops, and you know those little stores which sell souvenirs but not the generic kind?” He rambles, trying to think of more examples. 

“Okay that’s enough,” Lewis cuts him off, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “We all know the two of you are dating. The entire grid, and engineers, and probably most of the team principles.” 

“What?” You laugh nervously, trying to shrug him off. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Yeah, we are not dating.” Charles shakes his head, his octave going up as he receives looks from people around the table. “We are not!”

“Drop the act, it’s disgusting the way you two look at each other.” Checo complains from the other side of the table. 

“Yeah, and I can see him doing stuff to your hand under the table.” Lance winces. 

“He is not doing stuff to my hand under the table!” You squeal, but Charles is too busy trying to contain his laughter next to you. “Is this funny to you, Charles?” 

“I mean, a little bit,” Charles confirms, finally succumbing to his laugher, “we have nothing to hide now, chérie.”

“I knew it!” Pierre exclaims, “I told you I saw them together at my birthday!” He tells his girlfriend. 

“Toto and I saw them kissing after quali,” Lewis shrugs. 

You gasp as you turn towards him. “You did not!”

“Yes we did,” Lewis argues, “even Susie saw.” 

Charles pulls you towards himself, still laughing over people arguing whether they saw you together over the past year or not, as he wraps your arms around your shoulder, you murmur to him, “I am so crashing next to him next year, Daniel style.” You take a pause to think, “No, Mazepin style.”

“Maybe not crash into your teammate for the sake of poor Toto, mon soleil.” 

You let out an unsatisfied grumble as you hear Alex complain to Lily, “Why didn’t she tell me? I thought we were best friends!” You groan and look around the table at all the people around you, who are all surprisingly supportive of your relationship, you smile as you press a soft kiss to Charles’ lips. 

He grins as he asks, “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, “I just think you’re pretty cool.” 

“I think you’re pretty cool, too, my love.” He mumbles and gives you another kiss despite few groans coming from around the table. 

[mindless-existence1]

Deadpool x Wolverine Honda Odyssey Scene

Summery: (How the Honda Odessy scene should have gone.) Logan gets hard when fighting and Wade is just hard all the time. After hours of fighting Logan finally snaps.

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND!

Authors note: This is for one of my boo boo bears hope you enjoy. The dp x Wolverine movie has taken over my thoughts so this is my form of brainrot.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of fighting and blood, praise kink, handjobs, being mean to each other, inappropriate jokes and language, anal, degration?, that's about it I think.

Masterlist Link

For fucks sake Wade just wouldn't quit and it was pissing Logan off. They has been going at this for hours and despite what either of them said, they were starting to get tired. Logan had a different reason for wanting to be done with this idiotic fight though, and it involves the sick part of him that gets turned on when fighting.

For some reason, probably after years of being an X-Men, fighting made him get a hard on. Most of the time he could ignore it since everyone he fought died easily. But now he was faced with someone who couldn't die, who had been flirting with him for days, and obviously was getting turned on to.

He quickly stabbed Wade through the head and watched him fall. They had been at this long enough for Wade to know he had about 20 seconds to get him tied up before he was back at it again. Logan took this time to use the seatbelts around them to tie the merc to the seat he was nearest to.

He finished with a final tug and leaned back in his seat to bask in the momentary silence. Wade's head slowly shook as he 'awoke'. "Ahh kinky." His voiced slurred and groggy. Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head with a groan.

"Would a good fuck shut you up?" Wade snapped his head up at the man's words. "I mean if your offering." Wade answered hesitantly but eager none the less. Logan saw him look down towards the hard on pushing against the yellow suit.

"I normally wouldn't ask for this and wouldn't even need this but you just won't fucking die." Logans voice was gruff as he spoke. Wade was hardly even listening to what he was saying just nodding his head. The only thing playing in his head was 'good fucking good fucking good fucking'.

"Look, basically I just get hard when fighting, I don't know why, I just do. Normally I can just kill the guy before it becomes a problem. It goes away, everything's fine- stay quiet " Wade tried to interject but was quickly cut off by Logan "-but you can't fucking die and I can't really just jerk myself off right now so you're the next option.

"This was the best outcome of their fight Wade could think of, he assumed what he saw in his frenemies pants was just a protective cup or something. But now knowing what it really was, his hard on sky rocketed. "Holy fucking shitballs, Honey Buns I will do abso-fucking-lutley whatever you want Wolvie.”

Logan starts to work on undoing his belt, it's hard in the cramped space but he deals. “I figured. Some of those last few moves you pulled gave away the fact you're a horny price of shit. Thought you'd feel the same way about this."

“Feel the same way? Peanut I’m more than receptive, I've wanted- no actually I've needed  that cock in my ass since I saw your  ass in that suit. I’ll even beg for you if you want.” Wade is rambling, he could feel the blood pumping in his ears. If there's an actual chance he's about to get fucked by the Wolverine he will do anything this glorious man asked of him.

Logan threw the tight pants stuck to his legs somewhere in the blood covered Honda Odyssey, but he kept his boxers on. He thinks for a second before cocking his head to the side with a small smile. “Ok then, beg.”

A wave of lust crashes over Wade, he curls in on himself as best he can. A moan gets stuck in his throat, he has to take a moment to calm himself. The threat of coming in his pants is starting to get more and more real.

“Ohhh fucking shit-biscuit. Please? Pleeeease, Wolvie? Logan? Daddy? Master? Sir? I’ll do anything you want. I’ll make it so so so good I promise. I’ll even try not to talk, like I'll really really try, just for you!" Logan, being the dick that he is, looks unfazed. He keeps his boxers on, his cock straining the fabric. Wade whines and throws his head down, squirming in the tight bonds.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? I'll say anything you want to hear, pretty please?" Logan tries to hide his grin, he hates that he's enjoying the show Wade is putting on. He pulls down his boxers and Wade genuinely thinks he might die on the spot. "Holy Marvel Jesus you're hung like a fucking horse Wolvie!"

“Shut up- Daddy and master are a no go-"

“Fair enough”

“But Sir is fine. Actually if you could just shut your damn mouth while we did this I'd appreciate it." Logan says. “Sir. Got it, I can do that. Yes Sir.” Wade jerks his hips in his seat, desperately trying to gain any sort of friction. “I’ll make sure the author capitalizes that 'S' for you Sir."

Logan ignores him, leaning down close to his ear. “Just keep being a good boy and this will go smoothly for both of us” Ohhh fuck that’s not fair at all, Logan must be a demon sent from hell just for him. Wade can’t catch the desperate whimper that forces its way out of his throat. He rocks his hips up as much as the seat belts let him, looking for any sprt of friction.

Logan grins. “Oh, you like that, huh?” For once Wade’s not sure he has the words to explain what he feels. He's glad Logan hasn't made move to take off his mask, furiously blushing as much as he can through the scared tissue."Is that really all it takes for the merc with the mouth to shut up? A little praise and you go quiet?" Logan voice teases Wade as he stares him down.

Wade looks at anything other that the hot as fuck man infront of him."Instead of threatening you earlier I could have just praised you and we wouldn't have had to do this whole go damn fight? God you are pathetic aren't you?" Logan is softly laughing now.

Even though Wade can't tell if it's mean spirited or not he can't bring himself to care. "Will you please just hurry up and touch me? You're the one who suggested all this in the first place." Wade tried, and failed, to hide his desperation. "I mean, think if the audience! They've had to wait 18 paragraphs for this. So why don't we just give them what they want?"

Logan didn't understand what Wade was talking about half the time, especially when he talked about some "audience". But he couldn't bring himself to care. "Can't you just shut the hell up?" He snapped at the tied up man infront of him.

The snarky comment Wade was about to say was quickly forgotten when Logan made a move to take out the bottom half of Wades bloodied suit. A flash of panic crossed his mind and he instinctively jerked his hips away from the older man's hand.

Logan retracted his hand slightly and looked at the man's masked face as he tried to laugh it off. "You good bub?" Logan asked apprehensively, "I'm fine! Totally fine! I just havent...done it with someone else since my break up. But wouldn't want to deprive you from this hot bod for any longer so let's get to the devils tango Peanut."

The jokes lacked their usual light heartedness but Logan could tell he wouldn't be getting anything else out the man. And at the moment he just need to deal with his raging boner.

His hand began the awkward pull of trying to pull off the bottom half of the deadpool suit from where it was wrapped up under the seatbelts. When Logan finally got the pants and underwear pulled down enough Wade wad aching.

Logan took a minute to just look at the man, his legs had just as much scarred tissue as his face. Even so, Wade had very muscley legs. From all work he's done he was truly built, and maybe they just looked hot because of what was leaking between them. With one hand he pulled the deadpool mask up above Wades mouth to help him breath the other went lower.

Logan reached out his hand to stoke the other man, he hadn't done this in a loooong time and he hates to admit he's a little desperate. "Time to get the sock ready nerds." Wade was mumbling to what it seemed like someone that wasnt there, Logan chose to ignore him. "Promise not to cut my dick off with your claws Mr. KittyCat Sir?" Wade's voice was desperate and practically dripping with need.

"Dont call me that Mouth." Logan snapped but kept moving his hand lower till he wrapped his calloused fingers around Wade's length. "Sorry Sir." Wade's voice was wavy and laced with a whine. "Holy fuck. Is my dick small or are your hands just huge?" Wade tried joking to hide the shaking in his voice from the pleasure.

"Do I need to tie that mouth shut?" Logans voice seemed to lower an octave as he felt himself somehow get harder from the little show in front of him. "No Sir." Wade felt so pathetic and he loved it.

"A handjob is all it takes for Deadpool to be tamed? Well I'll be damned." Logans tone as mocking and it just made Wade leak more precum. "Believe me Sir, I can't be tamed. Now come on and just fuck me you sexy honey badger." Wade was panting and trying to to hold back the moans desperately trying to break loose.

"God you are a pathetic slut." Despite his words Logan was getting desperate himself, "we can't really do this without lube or else I'm basically going to rip you open." Logan was a shameless man, as he parted Wade's legs so he could get between them.

"If you tear me with that metal rod of fun I'll be fine, you stabed me through the heart like 10 minutes ago, I'll heal." Wade's voice was begging, all he wanted was to have the Wolverine destroy his ass. "Actually let me rephrase. If you tear me- I'll like it."

That's all it took for Logan to bottom out, thrusting his hips into the moaning man under him. Wade through his head back against the seat in a minorly pornagraphic whine. "Fuck why does it feel like you're trying to impregnate me your so fucking deep? It's not that kind of fanfiction Wolvie." Wade choked on the moan bubbling in his throat.

"Thought I told you to shut the hell up," Logan leaned in closer to Wade with each thrust. "Don't you want to be good?" He knew the words would get the man, he was proven right when Wade withered in on himself with a whimper.

"Yes Sir." He mumbled in between pants. Logans grip on Wades his would be leaving bruises if Wade could get them. He was almost sad he wouldn't be bruised, there'd be no proof except a sore ass that he and Logan ever did this. But of course he wouldn't be shutting up about this for the next forever.

Like everything Logan did to Wade his thrusts weren't gentle. His pace was fast and each one left Wade breathless. He hardly had time to talk in between his moans, his legs were starting to shake as he doubled over on himself.

Wade was the first to start reaching his climax, he stared to ramble like he always seemed to “Logan, Logan- I’m so close just fucking please- fuck. I'm going to come- please?" He didn't know why he was begging but he couldn't stop the words falling from his lips.

“Just a little longer Wade, you can do that right? For me? You can be a good slut and wait a little longer?” Wade whined at the mans words, but choked out a weak, “Yeah- I can- I will Sir".

Logan was starting to feel the burning sensation of his peak in the pit of his chest. He brought a hand towards Wade's weeping dick to give him extra stimulation, the moan ripped from the others chest was laced with desire.

With a groan Logan thrusted a final time and released into the fucked out man below him. Not soon after Wade came, the cum landing on his covered stomach. The only sound the in car was panting coming from the two men. Wade seemed to be blessed out and almost ready to talk again.

Logan began to pull out after he did he pulled up Wade pants for him. He sat on the layed back chair next to where Wade was tied up. He pulled his pants up and layed down, he was feeling the exhaustion from the nights events. He looked over to see Wade's breathing slow down.

"Hey bub-"

"Don't call me bub when you just had your monster cock in my ass not even a minute ago.

[papil0nglegs]

TF2 BEDROOMS 🛏️

*for funnies

Spy

You’ll never see this bitch with a messy room, he deep cleans it every night just before showering. 100% uses bed mist and yankee candles. Sleeps in button up pajamas with matching pants. He has those silk sheets that he’s always used and cleans them every week. No MEALS will enter his room. He’d bring in things like cookies with coffee or a croissant with tea but nothing huge. His room smells heavenly compared to everyone else’s.

Sniper

It smells like smoke but there’s no fire, why. He definitely tries to keep a clean space but he’s always busy. He’ll do this thing where it gets really messy, like really messy and then he suddenly deep cleans it. Hasn’t washed his bedsheets in years tho. Dirty coffee cups are everywhere, the counter the bed the glovebox. He kinda just lives in his own little world, he would like to keep it clean if he had the time but again he’s a busy man.

Scout

Where do I even start. He has the most teenage boy bedroom ever-it’s like this bitch never grew out of his messy room phase. Crushed cans of Bonk everywhere, beanbag chair, posters of playboy models all over the wall, action figures, and a pile of dirty laundry just chilling in the corner. Does clean his room but it’s gonna take a LOT for him to be willing to do that. It smells like axe body spray and sweat.

Pyro

My little princess 💕 has the most Girlypop child bedroom ever. Literally never gets messy, the messiest you’ll find it is a pile of my little pony figurines on the floor. Even then they still clean it up, a princess cleans after themself. The only merc that has ever seen their room was scout, immediately shut the door when he saw pyro have a tea party with their plushies. Has never invited anyone over to his room but if they wanted to join in on a tea party they’d be so happy.

Medic

He doesn’t have a bedroom, all he has is his desk. Yeah he almost never sleeps but when he does it’s on his desk, probably the most comfortable thing he’s laid on in years. Like sniper, he tries to keep his area clean but is a busy guy. The most he’s ever decorated his desk is using his favorite mug that says ‘world’s best surgeon’ as a pencil cup. Which he bought himself.

[fluideli123]

[IMAGE ID: User @yikes077 replied: Did Deadpool want to be a hero? He specifically spent 2 whole movies avoiding the x men, not wanting to be a hero, and actively being bad at being a hero / END ID]

I wanted to answer your reply in a separate post since I had a lot I wanted to explain! For those who want to know the original post this was asked on, here is a link!

For a short, precise answer: Yes, Deadpool wanted to be a hero.

But if you want an response that answers your curiosity and more? I'm more than happy to explain all three movies and how they build up and showcase Wade Wilson's Guide To Wanting To Be A Hero But Never Being Able To Achieve It.

It all started in the first movie in the very first act in which Wade threatens the pants off a pizza delivery man he was paid to make apologize and rethink his life choices. This was because there was a young woman who was being affected by the guys stalker tendencies. The young girl, looking at Wade's hard work for getting the job done, calls him her Hero.

Now Wade immediately deflects, refusing to be under that title because, "I'm just a bad guy paid to fuck up worse guys."

This explains how Wade originally viewed himself before he was forcefully mutated. He doesn't see himself as a hero because he's a bad guy. In his opinion Heroes are good, they don't go about things the way he does, which is threats, blood, guts, and stirring shit up at a merc bar.

Later on, when he discovers he has Cancer and is told he can not only be cured but become a Hero, he cries it out and than leaves in the middle of the night. Why? Because in his eyes being a Hero is saving the people you love and he was saving Vanessa by leaving her. To keep her from the ugliness he oozes with his terminal disease. He chose to do something he deemed Heroic for the reasons Heroes do.

It's seen very frequently that Heroes will sacrifice something they cherish in order to save something else, especially if that other person means more than what they sacrificed. Being Heroic is all about doing stupid shit in the same of love. Spider-Man did it, getting revenge for Uncle Ben. Hell, if you've ever seen The Crow (1994) Eric does everything in his power to bring a bunch of assholes to justice for the shit they pulled. Even Death Sentence (2007) applies!

Is it Spider-Man's finest moment nearly taking that shot to get revenge? Did Eric spend his time correctly instead of getting himself killed? Did the father really need to get the rest of his family killed for his prized son? You can have your own opinion on it, but at the end of the day when you do something for the sake of others, no matter how fucked up it is and how much it sacrifices everything, it is a version of Heroism.

Heroism isn't pretty and can't be fit into perfect boxes because that's just against not only human nature, but the very act of complex Heroing itself. To be a hero it's about being between a rock and a hard place 24/7, being the cause for lives lost and lives saved. And if you think Heroing is entirely selfless than Miles Morales would have to be kicked from the field. He does everything for the people he loves, to make the world a better place for them.

So, Wade goes and gets himself mutated. He does it for Vanessa, to make life better for her. He doesn't see her to make it easier on her and himself, because the thing is that Wade Wilson hates himself even before the mutation.

He doesn't think he's worth a damn and crawling back to someone he became a monster to save is like the hardest fucking thing to do. One, because you're scared shitless of their reaction because you care about it. But also just, because will you be hurting or helping? Wade dances around Vanessa not because he's being an asshole but because he is fucking paralyzed by the thought of hurting her, seeing the hurt he's already caused.

In the second movie because he was witnessed literally saving Vanessa's life which is blatant Heroism 101 despite still believing he isn't worth shit. Because, my beloved, dear, scrumptious reader, self hatred affects people a shit ton and when they place a title in high regard and believe they are so much more below it, unworthy to even reach it because he "is incapable" being the stereotypical hero. Of course he's going to deny it. It's like being denied you're loved, you don't feel like you should be because you feel like you've done nothing to earn it.

But Colossus hasn't given up on him, Wade has been trying but he isn't like the other heroes. He doesn't understand the No Kill rule, he doesn't know how to defuse situations without being an ass and he sure as fuck doesn't fit the public image of what a hero is in the MCU. So, yeah, you're right, he is actively bad at being a hero. But a specific label of hero. A specific ideal. An expectation he's incapable of reaching because it means removing half if not all of himself.

That doesn't mean he doesn't want it, though. Because if he doesn't than why try at all? Why try to help Vanessa? Russel? His family? He fucks up on the job in the second movie to PROVE he isn't worth the hero label, that his existence actively goes against it. Using my example from before, it's like doing something actively bad just to prove how much you're unlovable.

If you want further explanation on how this shows up in the third movie, I recommend this post I made.

But either way, I hope this explains how Wade wants to be a Hero but actively sabotages himself and doesn't believe he can be because he's aware of all his faults and so do others. Because, in the end, Wade cares and tries to do something about it. He genuinely does, and I think that's meaningful in a way he isn't able to accept as a character currently.

[jermer10]

Oh god.. this is a bit depraved but here we goHello! Uh if you are taking requests right now, could you maybe make a spicy TF2 mercs x male!reader where the reader is into weapon play (could be their reactions to simple things .. like a gasp from the gun touching their skin to something more smutty, your pick!)It'd be nice to have all mercs but if too much sniper, soldier and engineer would the the 3 favs!

TF2 male s/o with a weapon kink

18+ only, male reader | tried to add some heavier nsfw, i hope you enjoy anon!

includes: soldier, engineer, sniper tw: sexual content, weapon play kink

drabbles under the cut :P

Soldier: - Soldier knew about this kink long before he had started fucking you - he may be stupid, but he knows what an erection looks like, and you were always rock hard after watching him bash an enemy to death with his market gardener - so he decided to confront you, like any concerned teammate would - ARE YOU ATTRACTED TO ME, MAGGOT?", he pressed the shovel into your throat, backing you into a corner - subtly isn't his strong suit - "what the f..fuck..?" your skin crawled with arousal - you couldn't speak, let alone think with the rusted edge of the weapon tugging at your skin - "why do you ask?" you choked out, face flushed in embarrassment - Soldier shamelessly palmed your erection, "THAT'S WHY." - you groaned, jaw slack and eye brows furrowed. you expected Soldier to relent, yet he continued to stroke you through your pants. - subtly DEFINITELY wasn't his strong suit, and to be frank you were enjoying the way he was man-handling you - "I SHARE THIS...ATTRACTION." a sickening grin plastered on his rough features and his shovel pressing harder into your trachea - his body was so close to yours, backing you against the concrete walls of the base and forcing himself onto you - your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued to grope at your cock - "fuuuuuck Soldier p..leas..e..." your voice was gruff, the words seemed to be drawn out of you "PLEASE WHAT, CUPCAKE?" you didn't take him for a tease - "fuhck me!" you plead, throatily moaning at the cold, stinging sensation of the shovel cutting into your throat, your cock throbbed, the fabric rubbing your dick raw - you didn't have to ask twice, Soldier pushed you to the ground, ass up, knees scraping against the concrete floor, and market gardener pressed strongly between your shoulder blades

Engineer: - he would never admit it, but if he had a dollar for the amount of times he spent fucking his fist thinking about stuffing you with the muzzle of his shotgun, he would be rich - so when was walking past your room and noticed your door ajar, hearing the unmistakable slick sounds of masturbation, he couldn't help but peer in, hoping to get some new material - and when he saw you fucking yourself with a pistol and breathily moaning his name, he knew that he had to help - "hey darlin', seems like you were callin' out my name?" he knocked on the doorframe, smirking at the way you scrambled to cover yourself - "now don't you worry, y/n...i'm here to help," your face was burning - he positioned himself behind you, leaning against the wall and pulling you into his lap - Engie pulled the gun out of your puckering hole and began thrusting - your slutty moans, accompanying the praising whispers and sticky noises of the gun and your asshole meeting repeatedly, bounced off of the walls in your bedroom - Engie, feeling the high from the moment and the power he held in his fist, clicked off the safety on the gun - you began to shake, adrenaline coursing through your veins and the fear that at any moment the trigger could be squeezed - he lazily stroked your cock with his right hand as his left drove the gun into you - even if he did kill you, you would just respawn with no memory of the last hour or so, but he wanted you to remember everything - it was all becoming too much for him, he could feel himself reaching climax as your writhing body pressed into his chest and crotch, and when he finally came, you came with him - ropes of cum lathered his hand and your bare chest, Engie was impressed, to say the least - but despite your joint climax, he wasn't finished with you

Sniper: - Sniper's hide site was in a heavily concealed room sitting atop a random abandoned building - where he was and what he was doing didn't matter, you had been targeted by the enemy team's Sniper, and despite the fact that from where he was perched you seemed clearly annoyed, he couldn't help but see the redness in your face as the other Australian cornered you time and time again with his kukri - countless backstabs from Spy, bonks with Scouts bat, nothing came close to the way your face would go beet when he held the knife to your neck before swiftly ending you - Sniper wanted to try it for himself, clearly you had some sort of attraction to him - and he would be lying if he didn't find the idea of forcing you to suck him off while holding a blade to your throat hot - he signaled you to come up to his spot, making sure no one followed you - "hey, what's up man?" you huffed, you looked exhausted - Sniper felt awkward, but the erection in his pants was unrelenting and the way your eyes met his with a sort of nervous lust didn't help - "on your knees." he simply stated, unsheathing the kukri from his belt holster - your face went blank, did you hear him correctly? was Sniper wrong about his assumption? - "oh god, you saw me with the other Sniper..." realization hit your face, and so did an embarrassed flush - you bashfully knelt, doe-eyed looking up at the New Zealander-Australian man - Sniper unbuckled his pants, his cock springing out into your face - he held the knife up to you "suck." he commanded, his face flush and his palms sweating profusely

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP Wednesday

So I honestly don't know when I'm gonna get the entirety of the epilogue of separation anxiety finished so here's a little treat for anyone waiting on that :D

Chapters 1-8 Here

Chapter 9- Epilogue

It's been almost a week, since Wade, VE, and Peter 2 (now going by Pete) found him, rescued him really. Peter, thanks to Venom, is completely healed. Physically at least, mentally, he’s got a long way to go. 

Pete, now that Harry was more or less incapacitated, started working around the clock on recreating his cure. 

Wade- still can’t look at him... Which Peter, unfortunately understands. Between Buck’s death and having to acknowledge Peter’s heart is still tangled up around three others, the usually moody merc has been extra pissy. Not enough to go back to his own universe mind you, just enough to make an already tight living situation feel even smaller. 

VE opened their apartment to everyone. Of course they did. And because Harry and Pete needed privacy to work on his cure, they came along. Wade arguably had no reason to still be here, especially since it’s obvious his frustration is with Peter and Peter alone. It can’t really go on unaddressed anymore. 

“Wade, a word.”

“Anything for you sweetness,” Wade flirts, attitude a complete 180 from the shit he’s been spewing. 

As soon as the door to Peter’s room closes, Wade’s pleasantries drop. As do Peter’s. 

“What is your fucking problem?”

“My problem?!” Wade starts, but Peter already knows every excuse the man is going to throw his way. 

“Why are you still here?”

That obliterates Wade’s attitude faster than anything ever has. Its actually haunting how small Wade both looks and sounds when he asks, 

“You want me to leave?”

“No, believe it or not,” Peter sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. “But you're acting like a dick. So if you don’t cut it the fuck out I’m going to have to ask you to.”

Wade at least has the decency to look a little ashamed. 

“...Sorry.”

Peter exhales quietly. 

“I’m sorry too.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“For, everything,” Peter laughs humorously, “for Buck. For, our past shit. For Harry… I know being here, it can’t be easy.”

“It isn’t.”

“I know, I know, but, you have to trust me, he wasn’t always like that Wade.”

“He still hurt you.”

“I know he did,” Peter nods. “I’m working on forgiving him.”

Wade scoffs bitterly. 

“You can't ask me to forgive him.”

“I’m not. I’m asking you to trust my judgement.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

Peter can’t help it, he smiles, big and goofy and stupid before leaning in close to kiss Wade. 

Wade’s hand comes up to Peter’s chest to stop him. Peter can smell how much restraint its taking Wade to ask, 

“What about your boyfriends?” 

Peter chuckles, taking Wade’s hand off his chest and interlocking it with his. 

“Eddie thinks you're hot. V’s still on the fence.” 

“Peter…” Wade hesitates, even if his body moves in closer when Peter wraps a hand around his waist. 

“I’m being serious. They already know about you, us. I guess, this is my way of asking, if you want to join us. Or just me, if you aren't sure about them yet?”

Wade’s scanning his face, looking for any trace of a lie, or prank, but there isn't one. Peter meant it when he said he missed Wade. 

“Might be a little tricky, being from different universes and all.”

“Not necessarily,” Peter smiles, nodding to the device on Wade’s wrist. Even more likely if what Pete said about the Spider Society is true. “Look, you don't have to decide now. Just, know it's on the table, and it’s all above board.”

Peter starts to pull away, content to let Wade think on it as long as he needs. He’s barely a step apart when the merc's strong grip is on his hip. 

“Thought about it,” he says, using his strength to yank Peter into a kiss before tossing him on the mattress. “I’m in.”

Peter laughs hard. 

“You’re so fucking ridiculous!” 

Wade shrugs and doesn't deny it. 

“I'm also hard, so take your pants off.”

[mercurygray]

Happy weekend Merc! How about 'gravel underfoot' and 'broken zipper' from the small details prompt list for Billie doing something ill advised 😏 Juno xx

Juno, these three little snips have been sitting in my drafts for the better part of a week now, so I suppose I'd better publish them if I'm not doing anything better.

Fair warning: this is a TDS AU where the Girl Gang is flying. And it is🌶️🌶️.

--

He'd known the girls would be trouble, but why was it always her?

Harding looked at the pilot across from his desk and exhaled heavily. "I need officers who obey orders, Mitchell. None of this write your own rules nonsense."

The woman herself didn't seem to think too much of that. "Seems to be fine when Major Cleven does it, sir."

And maybe it is - for Major Cleven. But not Lieutenant Billie Mitchell, fresh from the states and here only on the sufferance of God and the manpower needs of the United States Army Air Force. "Major Cleven is a decorated officer with more flying hours than you."

"And a man, sir."

"What do you want, Mitchell?" He was in front of his desk, his face inches from hers.

"A fuck against the wall would be fine, sir." She stared him down, her smile just visible in the midst of his stunned silence. "Come on, Colonel. Who lets you off your leash? It'll be fun."

"You tired of the squad room?" He was trying not to let her get to him, and he wasn't sure he was succeeding. Had she disobeyed orders just so she could be here, in front of his desk, in front of him, alone?

"I'm tired of boys who think they know what they're doing." Her smile widened knowledgeably, trying to coax him out. "Come on, sir. I've danced with you. How long's it been?"

Too damn long, he'd almost said. "Get out of my office" was what came out instead.

--

He gave in later.

He did not say her name - did not even speak - only grabbed for her wrist and pulled her away into the dark, cool shadows of the supply shed.

He only had to shut the door behind them then she'd pulled him back by his lapels to start undoing his jacket, her lips greedy for his as her hands fumbled with belts and buttons and the front of his fly and he was pulling the shirt out of her trousers and pushing her back against the wall. His hand pushed for a moment into the front of her now- open trousers, thinking he might try with his fingers first, but she laughed into their kiss and pushed his trousers open a bit more. "A fuck, sir," she said, like she was reminding him.

"Against the wall," he growled, rubbing himself against the mound of her body and their hands, her underwear and his own. He could smell her perfume, faint and distant on her skin. "I heard you the first time."

"A real one," she replied, groping him so that he moaned. "Don't take your time."

He didn't. And she dug her nails into the back of his neck and panted with pleasure into his ear for it, hot and urgent and human, until he remembered just in time where he was and who she was and pulled himself from her so he might come between them, breathless and heavy, his whole body wrung out and, impossibly, longing to do it again. How long had it been? Too long, and now he wanted it a second time, and a third. The night was dark and full of secrets and he wanted all of hers.

How dare she stand there like that, smiling and flushed and looking for all the world like she knew what he was thinking? "Damn you to hell, Billie."

“I thought we were already here,” she said with a smile. “Might as well make the most of it.”

--

Wasn't it always the same story?

Marion's office had a view of the supply shed door - hardly busy on a Friday afternoon without a mission in the air tomorrow. The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her look up. Who was it this time, looking for privacy?

Billie Mitchell, hair a mess and uniform crumpled, was struggling with a zipper that was probably broken, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary. Not a surprise - those blue eyes and red hair had never had a problem getting a date for a dance, or for something after, either. Marion couldn't help watching the door, wondering whose heart she would be breaking in a few days time when she moved on to her next conquest, who would be mooning after her when she told him no.

But the face that emerged next was not one she expected to see looking around with boyish, fearful eyes like he expected to be caught, carefully closing the door behind him. Oh, no. Not you. In the moment she could smell his aftershave.

He stepped out from the supply shed and looked carefully around in the approaching evening light, adjusting his tie, smoothing his jacket, and then, somehow, impossibly, his eyes found her window and the semi-open shade. The guilt in his eyes went straight through and left her breathless. She stepped back from the window, feeling shaken. He'd seen her - and seen that she knew.

Oh, Chick. What have you done?

[iris-of-bliss]

Taking It Slow [18+]

Summary: You finally get to wake up next to your Black Dragon lover after being absent for a week. There was a sweet idea to make something to eat in the morning, but he has a different idea of food in mind.

Pairing(s): Kabal/F!Reader

Warning(s): Foreplay, Teasing, Morning Sex

Warm sunlight seeps through the bedroom curtains, landing on you and Kabal’s sleeping forms. You both remained in your undergarments whilst taking in the comfort of the sheets. This has been a quiet morning like always, but not for long. Kabal awakens from his slumber first. Eyes slowly open as he turns to the window. He combs a hand through his remaining hair before looking at you. He loved it when he is the one to wake you up, but he didn’t mind you doing the job vice-versa. It was a sweet thing to do for your lover during mornings. Kabal leans into you and tries waking you up by caressing your face with the back of his hand. He whispers sweetly, “Hey, Y/N. You awake?”

You mumbled through your resting self. The merc chuckled at this before he kept going further by planting a kiss on the forehead and cheek. It was enough for you to wake up and feel his hand cupping your face. Kabal spoke again, “Morning, baby. Did you sleep well?”

Your voice sounded soft as you smile slightly, “Oh, Kabal. You didn’t have to wake me up this early. I was having a fun dream.”

“Really? What kind of dream was it, princess?”

“One where you and me were making love,” you giggle.

“Heh, well how about it?”

Before continuing on the subject, your mind went straight into breakfast. You thought about what to make for you and Kabal, yet he had other ideas for his so-called “breakfast” after waking up. It would be a morning full of intimacy and comfort. He just wasn’t sure if you really meant it yet. You began to ask, “Is there anything you want for breakfast, hun?”

Your lover jokes whilst smirking, “Why make me breakfast when I’ve got some right in front of me?”

“Oh stop.”

You hold onto the merc’s wrist while staring in his eyes. Your hand slides down to his forearm, then his bicep, all the way to his shoulder. You lean in for a deep kiss against his lips until licking them for entry. Kabal soon returns the favor and catches up with your rhythm. The sound of his husky breaths throughout made you feel dizzy and give in. That and the motions of your tongues felt so good. You pull away from him quickly, panting for some air. Kabal let out a mischievous chuckle at your submission. Your body felt hungry for the man. Looks like breakfast will have to wait.

Kabal embraces you before teasing, “What’s the matter, princess? Are you starting to get hungry for me, too?”

“I’m sorry. I just never had this in a while since you were gone. I need you, Kabal.”

It is true that he’s been away for a week due to a mission with the Black Dragon. You were relieved he made it back home okay. Love and affection would be the first thing to do when your boyfriend arrived back. He plants a kiss on your temple and promises, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure to take care of you.”

With that, he starts making out with you as he began to tower over you. Both of your hands wrap around his neck as thumbs trace across his jawline. The slow dancing of tongues made your thighs create heated friction against each other. One of Kabal’s hands guided down to your lower abdomen before rubbing the soft skin, simulating you further. Feeling his rough hand abusing your flesh makes you wish he would just rub your aching cunt already. You softly moan throughout the kissing whilst your boyfriend let out a few of his own. The passionate kiss broke off before Kabal lifts himself on his knees above you, the bed cover sliding down to expose his bare back. He takes in your lustful form that he found oh so beautiful. Your fingers trace over his finely built abdomen. The presentation itself made you let out a sigh as both hands slowly guide up to Kabal’s chest. He takes one hand by the wrist and places a few kisses on the back of it. His eyes glance at you while he did this. He then lets go to lean down again, sharing a few more kisses with you.

Kabal pulls away before moving close to your ear, “I’m just going to take it slow, doll face.”

His tone of voice made you shudder and whimper through your weakness. Kabal kisses your neck before sucking on it which earned him a moan out of you. He pulls back to fix his gaze with yours. You felt a knee push against your crotch. It seemed as if he wanted to get in between your legs, so you did him the favor. One of his hands slid down to the clothed area until rubbing its wetness. You hum and moan from the foreplay in arousal as Kabal grinned at the reaction. Your hips began bucking and lower abdomen tense by every motion he makes.

“Mmm. M-more. You feel so…good.”

“Oh I’ll give you more alright,” he teases again before halting to remove the bra off you. Kabal rips it away to throw it across the room before removing your panties as well. He tosses it into the same area and takes his cock out. After giving himself a few strokes, Kabal carefully presses the head against your folds and makes the entrance. You quickly mewl as the feeling of his cock stuffing your sex was blissful. It felt like heaven since it has been a week of no intercourse. You can have him keep you full at last. The slow thrusting caused Kabal’s brows to furrow while he licked his lips.

“God damn I missed this. Fuck,” the merc groaned out, “we gotta do more of this, I swear.”

Kabal penetrates a bit faster, but he planned not to go too fast since it was only morning. Unless you wanted him to, he would rather keep this soft and intimate. If it were later in the day, he can go rougher on you if he wants. You place hands along the base of Kabal’s neck, pulling him into another kiss. You start to wrap your legs around his torso to take in the feeling. He squeezes your breast with a thumb teasing at the nipple. You were losing control over the kiss due to his tease. You let Kabal have you all to himself. His body closes in with yours completely while wrapping an arm around your torso. He releases your breast to bring your head close to his, panting breaths into the croon of your neck. Touching his skin and moaning sweetly was the least you could do.

“You sound like an angel. Do me a favor and keep singing for me,” he whispers before licking across your neck. You kept producing those sinful mewls and felt your cunt throb around him. There was a climax about to release, and so was Kabal’s. Small drops of sweat ran down both working bodies. The bed has gotten heated. You claw your fingers against his back by the feeling. You wished that he kept fucking you, but things had to come to an end.

You try your best to speak whilst panting, “Ugh, Kabal. I-I’m about to- ah!”

The merc knew what you meant and grabs the back of your head to share eye contact. He wanted to look into you through the hot adrenaline rush of orgasm. To show you how important your are to be in his life. To prove how much he loves you. When pounding in his final thrusts, you both release fluids onto one another. You shiver and moan during the moment as Kabal rubs his hand along the side of your stomach.

“Just ride it out, baby girl.”

He kept his eyes on yours while you were riding out your high. He was making sure for you to release every last drop and soothe you with comfort. You still held onto him through your climax. Your body shivered less, then once more, and it ended. Both of you give one last kiss until Kabal pulls out to lay on his back. You were in the middle of catching your breath after the morning session. It was finally time to figure out an early meal, after a small break at least.

Kabal brings a hand under your chin, caressing it with his knuckle. He looks at your exhausted form with a smile. You take his hand to give kisses all over it. When Kabal began to breathe normally, he playfully remarks, “Now we can plan on breakfast.”

You giggle, “Sure. Do you know what you’d like?”

“I don’t know. How about I let my princess surprise me? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, unless you want it to be,” he winks at you.

“Mm well. How about I make waffles? Maybe some bacon on the side, too.”

“Pork or turkey bacon?”

“I promise it’s pork.”

“Oh hell yeah! I’d kill for that.”

You both laugh from the conversation before you manage to get close to each other. Kabal’s arm wraps around your shoulders as you lay on his chest. You felt the need to settle in bed for a little longer.

“Let’s just give it a few minutes.”

You nod in response and relax through the brief silence.

[ultimateinferno]

TF2 updated so I'm taking this post out of drafts:

The TF2 Mercs are a part of the internet equivalent of the commedia dell'arte stock characters. Being automatically included in Source derivative software such as SFM and GMod, they're very easily available as premade rigs for amateur animators to use in their works. The simple, cartoony, and discernible designs make them very easy to read at any angle, which although originally used to be easily read in a competitive gaming environment, translates well to comedy skits. Unlike similar games such as Overwatch, where they're practically over-designed in a very definite artstyle, TF2 characters are lacking in accessories as a default. Generally wearing simple single color jackets, t-shirts and pants. In fact, the varied nature of TF2's cosmetic system makes them perfect as dress-up dolls, making it very easy to reuse the same base model and differentiate between them.

That brings me to their characterization. Even though most if not all have pretty well defined backstories and narratives, outlined in the supplementary media of comics and Meet the Videos, their baseline personalities can be easily transplanted into various skits and narratives with minimal introduction. Scout is a cocky jackass. Soldier is a dimwitted, overly patriotic American. Heavy is simultaneously soft-spoken and boisterous Russian who revels in violence. These simple yet understood personalities mean you can bypass proper character introductions by identifying who's in what role from the start, similar to the archetypes from the aforementioned commedia dell'arte.

You don't even have to be a fan of tf2 to grasp these roles. The ubiquity of SFM as free 3d animation software is a self supporting introduction. If you are unfamiliar with tf2's narrative, simply consuming a handful of these animations can get you up to speed.

Simultaneously, TF2's narrative is just as batshit as the fan animations that are inspired by it. You could certainly use other valve properties for similar reasons regarding animation accessibility, but TF2 embracing comedy from the start and the simple insanity of its characters means you can transport them to a wider array off stories while asking for a much smaller suspension of disbelief.

A Half Life animation is far more likely to be about Half Life than any given TF2 animation is about TF2. Many of them are, but way more are simply not.

TF2 as a property has a lot of staying power. 16 years now and even with minimal support from valve, it still soldiers on (pun intended) as a significant part of internet meme culture. I find it's notoriety akin to Hatsune Miku, where they're given a second life outside of the purpose of their original creation. They're less FPS characters, and more little dolls novice animators smack together for the entertainment of others.

And at the end of the day that's almost all it really takes. A significant slice of media engagement and fan works for the internet at large could not care less about Canon or the main narrative, even if its well regarded, because the biggest draw for many is simply taking strong personalities and putting them in funny situations. It's why incorrect quotes are absolutely everywhere despite the fact that a good 80% of them do not fit the original characters one bit. Meanwhile, TF2 as a property actively encourages it.

The following are all fan animations that have jack shit to do with each other or the original canon--be it in game, the original animations, or expanded comics--and yet they're still ultimately cohesive as these little shorts that play with the cast as archetypes, with their own recognizable appearances and roles. (Tucked behind Keep Reading to save space)

[sereinegemini]

Two Dark Princes ₊⋆ ☾

— Chapter VII

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott

Word Count: 879

Summary: Two years after Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts and most of the Wizarding World has returned to normal. But, F/n’s mundane life is flipped upside down after she learns that two of her best friends, Draco and Theo, are secretly in love with her. When this knowledge begins to affect her relationships, she is faced with difficult decisions, each one laced with promised heartache and the potential to awaken an unexpected darkness

Warnings: hostility, blood, a wee bit spooky

Hogwarts

Sunday, May 4, 1997

True darkness engulfed you. You could feel it shifting and swirling on some unknown wind. No light penetrated the empty space, but when you held out your hand you were able to see it. The black air slithered around your fingers like water. As far as you could tell nothing but you existed in this space.

“F/n?” a voice asked from all around you. It had a dreamlike element to it, almost like all at once it was there and not. And it was warm, reminding you of–

“Cedric?” you called back, frantically spinning and searching the void for any sign of another being. Your head was swimming. What was this place?

“I’ve missed you so much, my sunshine. You have no idea how lost I am without you.” Knuckles grazed your cheek gingerly, and you flinched at the phantom touch. No one was there.

“Ced, where…where are we? Where are you?” You couldn’t settle the rising panic in your voice.

“I’m right here, F/n.” Frustrated, hot breath washed over your face. You should have been able to see him. He was right there, dammit. But your vision remained blank, and if you hadn’t just seen your own hand you’d be positive your eyes were closed. He gripped your shoulders, nails biting into your skin enough for a whimper to escape you. “I’m tired of these games, F/n.”

“You’re hurting me. Ced, that hurts!” you cried. You moved to rip his arms away from you, but your hands met nothing but empty air.

He only clenched harder, roughly shaking you back and forth. “Why did you do it? Why did you throw away our love—our future—for them? They’re nothing. They’re filthy Slytherin snobs. We were going to have a future together, F/n. A family. Why did you ruin it? Why did you ruin it? Why did you–” Suddenly, an intense wind billowed past, gone as quick as it came. Cedric gone with it.

Left shaken and panting, you ran your fingertips along the pain burning in your shoulders. They came back wet. Confident you knew what the substance was, you licked it. Copper. Blood.

“Like what you taste?” a smug voice asked from behind you. Whirling around, you were met with exactly what you expected: nothing.

“Not particularly,” you whispered, your skin prickling alongside his presence as he circled you.

Stopping behind you, Theo roved his mouth over your ear. “That’s a shame, I’ve always sort of enjoyed it. It can be...comforting.” He pushed a finger against the small cuts, making you wince. You felt him lift it to his own mouth, a pleasured groan following. Then, his hand on your jaw, he forced your face towards him and brought his lips to yours. His tongue slithered between your teeth and spread the metallic taste into your mouth. Grimacing, you tripped over your feet as you broke away.

“What’s the matter, F/n? I thought that’s what drew you to us. The wickedness dwelling underneath. The Death Eaters our fathers raised us to be.”

“Isn’t that why you destroyed your perfect life for us? You know deep down a part of you is just like those little boys we’re trying desperately not to be,” Draco whispered against your hair, pulling your back against his chest.

Your chin was gripped with dreadful strength. “But you can only love one of us, L/n. So go on, who is it? Hm? It sure as hell isn’t that dumb Hufflepuff.” Theo’s dark chuckle made your veins run cold. “You destroyed that boy’s heart in the most admirable way. It would have been more merciful for you to rip it clean out and wear it on a chain around your neck.”

“Shut up.” You willed the tears in your eyes not to spill.

“Oh? Are you not proud of the way you wrecked poor Cedric Diggory? I hear he’s been awfully careless with his wand lately. Poor bloke is bound to blow himself up.”

“I said shut up!” you shrieked. 

The words continued to echo seconds after you sensed Draco disappear into thin air. You were left standing face to face with a red-eyed creature. It resembled a man and had its boney fingers pressed bruisingly into your jaw. He had replaced Theo, and in your sinking gut you knew exactly who this was despite never having seen him.

Lord Voldemort gave you a rotten-toothed grin. “I’ve been looking a long time for you, girl.”

Gasping awake, you laid completely still out of fear while you took in your surroundings. You were in the Astronomy Tower, rain from a storm pelting the floor mere feet from where you lay. Beside you, Theo was snoring softly, completely unaware of you or the nightmare previously tormenting you. Quills, parchments, and textbooks littered the floor where you’d spent most of the night studying. Final exams would begin next month and now was the time Professors encouraged students to start revisiting the material.

Lightning flashed across the moody sky, and the last thing on your mind was passing your finals. Because there was no doubt in your bones that nightmare wasn’t just some bad dream. Voldemort had been in your mind. And he wanted you for something.

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[thewitchunderyourbed]

When the Sun goes down

Sorry, I'm bad at summaries, guess you have to read the whole thing

Chapter 1

Pairing: JoyToy!Johnny x V

Warning: language, sexual themes, brief mention of violence and abuse.

V strolled down Jig-Jig Street, as her friend Goro once said "what kind of name is that?"

Well, what did he expect from a hub full of sex shops and prostitutes?

Taking the turn for Wakako's Pachinko Parlor the neon light reflected on her dark sunglasses, and the sounds of moans and implant commercials filled her ears, annoying her even more.

She was beyond pissed.

She scoffed at the sound of slot machines and almost ripped the damn curtains draped over the door to Wakako's office.

"V, my dear. I heard the gig was a success" the old woman greeted her, always composed.

V, as an answer tossed a bloodied shard on the fixer's desk, the little piece of tech rattled on the wooden surface, leaving a trail of brain pieces and hair.

"Why didn't you tell me my "contact" was a cyberpsycho? Had to make his head into pudding and then retrieve that fucking shard" she hissed.

"But you succeed, didn't you? Eddies are already on your account" Wakako said, with a gesture of her hand her pupils lit up, a sign that she was transferring the money.

"Thank you" V muttered "I'm going home if you need me you know how to find me," she said heading for the exit.

"Wait, V." the woman called, making the merc turn around.

"You're getting noticed a lot, and in a good way. Your exploits are known all over Japan Town and your skills are already legendary. The prostitutes in this neighborhood dream only of you." she smirked.

"Oh, lucky me" the girl replied, unamused.

"What I'm trying to say, my child, is that life is short for not having some fun" the fixer said adjusting her round glasses on her nose.

V snorted "Is what you said to your five husbands?" and with that, she left the Parlor.

It's not that V disliked hookers, she's friends with more than one, but paying for sex it's something she doesn't wish to do.

She would be a hypocrite if she said she had not thought about it on more than one occasion when her stressed brain craved something that wasn't just pain and medications.

A cute JoyToy would make her forget about her pitiful life made of death and money for an hour or two but then she would return to her path of loneliness, with less money and her systems to check up by Vik.

The truth was that she did not care about sex that much anyway.

The oddly shaped strap-ons on display in the shop's windows were almost hilarious to her, for not talking about the Mr. Stud commercials, she knew a guy who had a very HARD time with one of those.

Wakako was right, though.

The hookers were launching themselves at her as she passed, hoping to be noticed and make some money or to simply spend time with her, to have something to gossip around.

"I know what the famous merc is into under the sheets" she could already hear them.

Almost out of the hub, returning to her loved bike her attention was caught by shouts, two people were arguing.

"Oh, for fucks sake" she huffed, tempted to just leave them be and return home for collapsing on her bed.

"What did you just call me, you useless whore?" a Japanese man screamed in his mother tongue.

"A wretched piece of shit, keep your fucking hands to yourself if you can't pay," another man with dark aviators said.

The first grabbed the latter by his net shirt, making his glasses fall onto the dirty ground.

"Hey!" V yelled towards the two, approaching with quick steps.

"Is he troubling you?" the merc asked the male JoyToy.

"And what the hell do you want? Take his place, maybe?" the molester, eyed her from head to toe.

"If you don't immediately leave within three seconds, I swear I'll rip off that poor excuse of genitals you have between your legs, and make you forcefully swallow them, do you copy?" she asked, throwing the man against the nearest wall and unsheathing her mantis blades.

The poor fucker almost peed his pants as he ran away, tripping on his own feet by looking behind himself, afraid of being followed by V.

"Could have made it by myself" the JoyToy scoffed.

"You're welcome" arching one eyebrow at him, she lowered down to pick up his glasses handing them to their owner.

"Thank you" he finally said, extending a shiny cybernetic arm "I'm Johnny"

It takes some time for V to realize she was meant to introduce herself too, lost in her thought of a soft and warm bed as the cold rain started to fall on Night City.

"I'm V... Sorry to ask you but..." she gestured where a golden feather-like cyberware adorned his neck "-you're not a JoyToy".

Johnny fished out a cigarette from the back pocket of his leather pants and V took out a lighter from one of hers.

Stepping closer to him and using her free hand to prevent the small flame to be blown out by the rising wind, she lit the cigarette held between his lips.

He let out a nervous exhale of smoke before speaking "I was a doll, at Clouds. That fucking place is a soulsucker, I've been beaten one too many times, waking up in a bloodbath without even remembering by whom or why. I quit that place forever"

She could still see a trace of fear in his dark eyes even if the secure expression on his beautiful features tried to mask it.

"You're not having much luck even here" she pointed out.

"At least I'm not a sex zombie anymore, why the hell do you care anyway?" he inquired suspiciously.

"I'm in a good work relationship with Okada, this district fixer. Her problems and the ones of her clients often became mine to resolve. I like to keep myself well informed" V said, raising the hood of her jacket on her head.

"See you around, Johnny" she smiled weakly before stepping under the pounding rain.

"Wait! Don't you... I mean, as a thank you?" he raised his voice to be heard.

"As a thank you, you can stay safe" she ignited the engine of her Arch to life before speeding away.

"See you around, V" he sighed, shivering in the cold night.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Feel free to comment and give constructive critiques. English is not my mother tongue so if you have found some errors, please let me know.

Ideas and suggestions are welcomed too 💕

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Chapter 16: Aka (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Aka. n. mission.

Chapter summary: The mission, to no one's surprise, goes awry. You really should have slept beforehand.

Chapter warnings: being shot at; being chased; some angst, with the promise of fluff; feelings; if I missed any please let me know!

Word Count: 3,456

Read it here on AO3!

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Evidently, your time in a Coruscanti prison cell spawned rose-tinted glasses over your expectations for this mission. Even though it’s not one sanctioned by Cid, perpetual bad luck seems to follow wherever you go. First, the Redthorn acted up during its pre-flight check, giving you what you assumed was a faulty calibration readout, easily fixed by whacking the control panel with your fist. Then, once the ship dropped out of hyperspace just beyond the gravity well of this planet you never caught the name of, the proximity alarms blared—scaring you half to death until you realized the ship was just picking up on the Marauder as it reverted to realspace a few klicks away.

Now, having landed in a shade-dappled clearing, you stand on soft, spongy ground, breathing in the warm, sweet spring air. Under other circumstances, you might actually appreciate the white ash trees that reach for the blinding blue sky, chartreuse leaves rustling in the pleasant breeze, the twittering birdsong somewhere nearby. But these are, as always, not the best of circumstances, the heavy drape of exhaustion notwithstanding.

Fists on your hips, you hang your head in frustration. Hunter emerges from underneath the Redthorn, wiping his palms on his pants, and gives you a sympathetic look. 

“Landing gear is stuck, alright,” he says. 

You groan. “Kark it all to kriffing hell!” 

“Maybe the Marauder can pull it free when the mission is over?” Omega pipes up, her brown eyes wide with concern. 

Dropping your hands to your sides, you nod, more for her benefit than yours. “Yeah, maybe, kiddo. It’s a good idea. We gotta complete the mission first, though.” 

You catch the glance that Omega and Hunter share, but all you can do is sigh, brushing past Hunter to lock up the ship. The clearing you’ve landed in is a fair distance from the base the squad is supposed to infiltrate, so you’re not too worried about the ship being found by the Imps. No, you’re more worried that you won’t be able to locate it again. You wouldn’t put it past the Force, or whatever, if the tracking beacon on your wrist comm goes on the fritz. It will be just another item on the list of Reasons Why We Should Stop Being Contract Mercs. 

“The rendezvous point isn’t far from here,” Hunter reassures you. The warmth in his voice feels genuine, and you can’t help but nod in response. 

“I know.” You try for a smile, and find that it helps the tension in your shoulders loosen marginally. “Come on. We don’t want to keep the others waiting.”

The farther you move from your ship, the more you start to relax. You’re not sure what’s going on with the Redthorn today, but once it disappears from your line of sight, you feel like you can breathe easier. You’ll figure out what’s wrong with her later. Right now, there are other things to focus on. Like how beautiful this planet really is. Inhaling deeply through your nose, a smile curls over your face. A small critter leaps between tree branches overhead. Several leaves dislodge and float, unhurried, to the ground around you. 

You catch a glimpse of the wide-eyed, joyful smile on Omega’s face. Sometimes, you’re reminded that despite her maturity, she’s still a child, one with a stolen childhood, forced to grow up too fast. Even so, the childlike wonder she brings to every new environment is...you’re not sure the right word exists. It’s familiar, comforting, reflective, lovely. It feels like family.

Something in your heart—in your soul—shifts a few inches to the left, something deep and profound and debilitating. You trip over your own feet. 

Hunter’s hand catches your arm and steadies you. “You alright, Nav?” 

Blinking in embarrassment, you nod. “Y-Yeah. Sorry. Two left feet.” 

His eyes search yours; you know he doesn’t believe you, but right now is not the time to fall to pieces over how much you care for the little girl peering up at you with concern. How much you care for the man supporting you here, his gray eyes alight with worry and curiosity, his hand scorching its imprint into your bicep, his soul touching yours. 

You’re exhausted and delirious; that has to be the explanation for the way your heart hammers against your ribs. 

Shaking yourself out your thoughts, you straighten. Hunter releases you. When Omega places herself between you and Hunter, grabs each of your hands, and pulls you along, you swallow past the lump in your throat. 

Family is the right word for this. 

Tech chatters your ear off as soon as the three of you are in earshot, shattering the peace of the quiet walk. “There you are! Perfect. I gathered high-altitude aerials of the base and confirmed that there is a nominal Imperial presence, no more than a skeleton crew. Nav, with your distraction, we should be able to infiltrate the base, gather the intel, and be gone without anyone knowing we were even there. I calculate a 95 percent chance of success.” 

“What about the other five percent?” you ask. Pulling free of Omega’s hand, you set about double- and triple-checking your gear. 

“Ah, yes.” Tech adjusts his goggles. “That is reserved for the fact that Phee could be completely wrong about the intel being stored here, you being captured, the size of the garrison, or any other unknown variables.” 

“Suppose I should be grateful it’s not higher,” you grumble. 

Tech holds out a shiny metal ball. “Here. A smoke bomb. I am aware that you do not possess any in your provisions, which is an oversight I am sure you intend to rectify soon.” 

Taking the smoke bomb, you have to laugh. “Thank you, Tech. I will make sure to get some as soon as I can.” 

“Excellent. Ah, Hunter, I would like to review the schematics for the...” 

You tune out Tech’s voice as he strides past you. With another chuckle and shake of your head, you slip the small bomb into your pack. Hopefully, you won’t need it, but knowing your luck, you may even come to wish he’d given you a detonator instead. 

Phee approaches you, a carefree, easy grin on her lips as you sling your pack over your shoulder once more. She says, “I’m glad we get the chance to work together again. I was sorry to hear about what happened to Arien.” 

You expect the world to tilt on its axis at the mention of Arien, for your stomach to turn inside out, for tears to immediately well in your eyes. Instead, there’s only a faint, aching tug at your heart and a wistful smile that plays over your face. “Thank you. I.... Well, I can’t say I enjoyed the last time we worked together, but Tech likes you, so that’s enough for me.” 

“Brown Eyes?” She laughs, throwing her head back, the sound of her mirth echoing off the trees. A few birds flap away, startled. “He’s sweet. You won’t regret this one, (y/n).” 

You can’t resist the broad smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth, so you don’t. Phee claps you on the shoulder before moving off, leaving you alone in the center of this small clearing. Nearby, the quiet babble of a stream reaches your ears for the first time. The prospect of fresh, clean water sets your mouth salivating, so you unhook your canteen from the side of your pack as you move away from the group. The trees serve to dampen the sounds around you; you can still hear Wrecker’s booming voice, so you’re not too worried. 

Shoulders dropping, you rub your empty hand over your face, scrubbing at your eyes. Kark, the past 48 hours have been a maelstrom of activity and emotions. Rescued from prison, told your best friend left on an important mission, reconnected with the man you’re falling for, immediately shunted back into the mercenary lifestyle—not to mention Hunter’s confusing oscillation between pulling you closer and pushing you away in the next breath. As you crouch by the edge of the clear, cheerfully gurgling water, you resolve to confront Hunter about that after this mission. If you’re staying with this squad, you need his transparency as much as you think he needs yours. If you’re staying, you need things to move at your pace now.

The small stream is only two or three feet wide, and looks less than a foot deep. At the bottom, a bed of smooth, polished river rocks spreads in colorful patterns, the tumbled stones fitted together as tightly as the best woven shimmersilk the fancy ladies on Coruscant wear. On impulse, you roll up one sleeve after your canteen is full. Gasping at the coolness of the water, you plunge your hand to the elbow and grasp at the first rock your fingers bump into. 

It’s about the size of your palm, flat and smooth and gunmetal gray—nearly the same shade as Hunter’s armor, you realize, turning it over in your hand, the water on it glistening in the speckled sunlight. Shaking off your hand, water droplets spray through the air. 

“Wondered where you’d gone off to.” 

You whirl, heart in your throat, hand reaching for your blaster, before the sight of Hunter registers in your distracted mind. 

Relaxing, you laugh. “Startled me.” 

“Sorry.” He glances at the stone in your hand. “What’s that?” 

“Hm? Oh.” You shrug, the heat of embarrassment smoking up your spine, though you don’t know why. “Just...a rock.” 

He nods like he didn’t already know that, and you sigh internally, kicking yourself. 

“Are you—” He rubs the back of his neck, a gesture you can’t stop noticing when he does it. “Are you ready to head out?” 

“That’s not what you were going to say, was it?” 

He huffs. “No. I was going to ask if you’re alright, then realized that’s a stupid question.” 

You hum noncommittally. “It’s certainly a question. Can I ask you one?” 

The openness in his eyes when they flick to yours nearly knocks you off balance. 

“Of course,” he says. 

“How are we, really?” 

Brows furrowing, the lines on his forehead deepening, he cocks his head. “What d’you mean?” 

“You and me, Hunter. How are we? Because I— I keep thinking about what you said last night. About no more mistakes. And how you pushed me away after that, but today, you’ve— I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just want to know if we’re okay. If I still have a chance.” 

“A chance for what?” His voice is quiet. He looks like he wants to step closer, to reach out, to feel you, but he holds back. 

You don’t want him to hold back. “A chance with you.”

Emotions flicker over his face. You catch notes of surprise, apprehension, affection, but they’re gone quicker than you can catalog them. For the space of a heartbeat, you both stand, eyes locked, breaths held. 

“I—”

Wrecker’s shout cuts off whatever Hunter is about to say. “Hey, Hunter! Nav? Where’d you go?” 

Hunter’s eyes screw shut, nostrils flaring. A matching burst of irritation and disappointment pulses in your fingertips. Dropping the rock, you trudge past Hunter, gripping the straps of your pack tight enough that your fingernails bite into your palms. He doesn’t stop you. Rather, he follows a moment or two after you; the weight of his silence drags your shoulders down. 

Kriff, you just want to sleep.

Phee and the boys set out towards the east, trailing in a wider arc to avoid detection. Omega remains with the Marauder, much to her dismay; you’d tried to raise her spirits by reassuring her of the importance of the getaway driver, but the empty smile she’d given you let you know your efforts fell flat. For your part, you walk in nearly a straight line northward, heading to the base directly. Bag secure on your back, one blaster holstered and the other drawn, you try to let the steady rhythm of your boots on the squishy earth lull your brain away from the interrupted conversation earlier. 

Left foot, right foot, one in front of the other. At some point, you jerk upright, heart pounding. Kark, you haven’t been tired like this since basic training; you never fell asleep on your feet like some of your fellow cadets, but you’d come close. Why hadn’t you slept last night? 

“No use crying over spilled milk now,” you mutter to yourself. With a sharp shake of your head, you hold your eyes wide open. 

You’re not sure how long you walk, but it can’t be for very long. You know Tech parked the Marauder just a few klicks away, nothing drastic, but as it is, you nearly walk out of the treeline into direct sight of the base. Mouth running dry, you stumble to halt, catching yourself on the peeling bark of a slim ash tree. You sink into a crouch using the tree as support. 

Ahead of you, the small, thinly garrisoned base sprawls over a field of permacrete. Cracked slabs of the synthetic rock are broken up by stubborn weeds forcing their way through to the sunlight above. There’s no fence. In the center of the base, a tall, rusted satellite dish that probably used to be white idles dormant, pointed directly at the horizon. Maybe Phee’s intel was actually good. This is a tiny, defunct little base, barely worth the Empire’s continued maintenance in your estimation. 

Except, you know that what lies inside is probably more valuable than this entire planet. And if that dish is no longer functional, it means the Empire can’t transmit or receive whatever intel is being stored here. 

Nor can they reliably call for backup.

Squinting against the bright sunlight, you pick out the finer details your initial surprise glossed over. Two AT-ST walkers, parked and lifeless, near the base of the satellite; one set of doors just a few dozen feet to the left of the walkers that leads inside the base; and, in lazy, careless patrols, at least two sets of guards shuffling along the perimeter. 

Sweat slicks your palms, forcing you to adjust your grip on your blaster. After a moment’s deliberation, you slide the blaster into its holster and secure it. You linger under the trees for a few minutes longer, trying to time yourself with when the squad should be reaching the base and the rhythms of the patrols.

Your legs protest when you stand to your full height, but you ignore them, striding forward into the open. The warmth of the sun kisses your shoulders, a sensation that would be more welcome if the pit of anxiety in your stomach didn’t drop out below you at the same time. This will go as planned, you try to tell yourself. 

The two patrols are about 100, maybe 150 feet away from you. At first, none of them react, but then the pair to your right seems to spot you. One of them points. The other pair halts in their path and turns to face you. All four troopers, in identical white plastoid armor, raise their blasters to half-height and advance. 

“Hands up where we can see them,” one of them calls to you when they reach earshot. Then, into his comlink, he says, “Possible situation in sector three. Requesting backup.” 

Hands slowly raising into the air, you aim for a disarming smile. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m lost. Got separated from my party. Can you point me in the direction of the nearest town?” 

Four helmets tilt toward one another in a silent exchange. The same one who spoke before says, “Let’s see some identification.” 

“It’s in my bag.” 

“No sudden movements.” With a hand signal, each of them move to form a loose semicircle around you. Their defensive stances don’t relax, but they also don’t jump into combat ready positions, either. 

As you shimmy your pack off your shoulders, you catch sight of the doors of the base opening and another four troopers step into the open. Kriff. You narrate each action before you take it, crouching down, opening your pack, reaching in.

You slip your hand in, fingers searching blindly for your ‘identification.’ 

One of the clones steps closer, his blaster raising a fraction. “Hang on.” 

You freeze, fingers half-gripped around the smoke bomb. “Problem?” 

“Hotshot,” he says, “isn’t there a bounty out for a deserter that matches their ’scription?” 

Well, that took less time than you anticipated. Quickly glancing up, you’re relieved to find that the approaching troopers are still halfway across the field. Only the trooper closest to you has his blaster held in any kind of threatening position. 

“Good eye, Screwball,” the one you assume is Hotshot says. “You, stand up, no funny business.”

Rising to your feet, you gulp. “There must be a mistake, I’m only—” You press the smoke bomb’s activation button, yank it out of your pack, and then you’re sprinting, the spherical metal ball bouncing on the permacrete. 

Several shouts ring out behind you as blue blaster bolts fly wild through the smoke screen, none of them remotely close to you. Boots slapping the pavement, you leap over a downed tree, knees jolting with the impact as you land. You don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life. 

It takes only a few moments for the troopers to begin gaining on you nonetheless. Risking a look back over your shoulder, you curse as blue fills your vision. You duck on instinct. The blast splinters the tree trunk above your head. 

You veer hard to the right, feet slipping on the soft ground. You’re already hopelessly lost, but that means these men chasing you might get lost, too, or they’ll give up pursuit before they reach that point. You just have to keep running. One foot in front of the other.

The stitch that forms in your ribcage makes you wheeze, pain lancing into your side with every breath. You run for what feels like a lifetime. All of the trees look the same to you, white and gray trunks blurring together as you bob and duck and weave between them. Behind you, the sounds of pursuit, of heavy plastoid armor crashing through underbrush, never falter or fade. You don’t know how much longer you can hold out.

Ahead, there’s another break in the trees. Pushing your already-exhausted energy to the limit, you pump your arms harder, heading for it. Your sleep-deprived, adrenaline-fueled brain tells you it’s a hill, or a river, something to help you get away. You burst from the treeline and—

A scream tears from your throat as you windmill, feet skidding through mud as your stomach heaves at the chasm that yawns before you. 

Several hundred feet below, a thin blue ribbon of water threads through the shaded canyon. Behind you, the troopers close in, their shouts becoming clearer. Ahead, the other edge of the chasm lies out of reach, at least fifty feet away.

Panting, you make a split second decision. Unslinging the rope that hangs from your pack, you hastily tie it around a nearby boulder, throw it over the lip of the chasm, and then you take off along the cliff’s edge. Vision blurry. Lungs aching. Body so very, very drained.

Your shoulder clips a tree as you re-enter the forest, but the pain doesn’t register. You keep running, stumbling over roots; you think you cut your face on a low-hanging branch. All you can do is keep moving. If you stop, you’re dead. If you stop, the others are dead.

“Nav?” Hunter’s voice crackles to life from your wrist. “Nav, we got what we came for. Rendezvous at the ship.” 

You press the button to answer, but words won’t come out of your parched throat, only harsh panting.

“Where are you?” Hunter asks. In the background, you can hear the others shouting at each other, the sounds of boots on permacrete, a blaster shot or two. 

“Lost,” you choke out. 

“Kriff. Tech, can you lock in on their position?” 

“Affirmative,” comes Tech’s muffled answer. “Tell them to stay put.” 

“Nav, you hear that?” Hunter says. “You can stop running now. It’s okay.” 

Everything in you wants to stop, but there’s a part of you, the part conditioned by years of looking over your shoulder in an orphanage, in the corporate world, in the military, that whispers that stopping isn’t safe. 

“N-No,” you gasp. “Find me.” 

There’s a long moment of silence, punctuated only by your gasping breaths and pounding heartbeat in your ears. Then, quiet and firm, Hunter: “I always will. I’ll be there soon.”

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @skellymom

[howlingday]

Merc w/ Reader

Starring Mercury Black as Deadpool from Marvel's Midnight Suns.

--------------------------------------------------

Ozpin: (Via scroll) Have you found any clues as to whom has broken into the museum?.

<You relay that there are White Fang searching the museum. A woman in a red and black dress is ordering them around.>

Ozpin: Don't let them see you.

<As he says this, you feel a gun press against the back of your skull. Suddenly, there's a whistle as a... handsome, young man kicks the White Fang thug over the railing, safely out of view of the others. He crouches next to you, looking over the others before looking to you. He gives you the totally cool guy finger guns that all the cool guys do.>

Mercury: You the new guy? ...Sorry! The new fully variant and heroically imagined Grimm duster? I'm the wise-cracking anti-hero slash mercenary slash occasional anti-hero slash whatever I'm supposed to be here.

Mercury: C'mon, I'm adaptable! Quit writing me as the bad guy and maybe I'll actually rub you the right way?

<...You look in the direction he's talking to, finding only a solid brick wall. You urge him to stop talking, unknowingly for everyone else's benefit.>

Mercury: You here for the relic, too? Y'know, the one my very mysterious and terrifying client from somewhere very final boss level wants me to steal back from the guys who stole it from her? It's the circle of crime~!

<You point to the one in the hands of the woman wearing black and red. It's a pretty big statue, or at least big when you consider she's holding it with some effort. The statue also has large mouth, like some kind of animal, with pointed fangs jutting out everywhere. Mercury's eyes widen.>

Mercury: Well, puppet my freakin' Cinders! Yeah! That one!

<Before you can stop him, he leaps over the railing, landing loud enough for you to lose the element of surprise. You decide to jump down, too, since, as previously mentioned, your cover has been blown.>

Mercury: Alright, hands up, pants down, ladies and gents! THIS is a robbery! Wait a minute... You look familiar... Cynthia? No, no, Saradin? Cin...dy?

Cinder: Please, kill him.

Mercury: Cinder! That's it! Of course! Cinder, right Grimm hand to Salem! We used to work together, right?

Cinder: NOW!

--------------------------------------------------

<After a tough battle with the White Fang, Cinder refuses to give up the relic. Mercury makes things worse by pointing out how dumb the White Fang plot was. Cinder surprisingly agrees that the White Fang have outlived their usefulness and summons Grimm to attack from the shadows. You manage to survive the assault, no thanks to Mercury.>

Mercury: What are you talking about? I'm right here! Behind this box! Providing cover fire! That looks like I'm hiding!

<You ask where Cinder escaped to with the relic. Mercury points to a pool of red paint mistaken for blood.>

Mercury: The dialogue box says she went that way.

<As you follow the trail, you question why Cinder would betray the White Fang.>

Mercury: Couple reasons. Boredom. Sluggishness. Actually knows how to use a plot twist? I mean, it is a day that ends in Y.

<The trail ends at a ladder, leading down to the lower level of the museum. Mercury "heroically" lets you take the lead into the sewers. Keeping your guard up, you and Mercury make your way deeper into the dark until you hear a screeching sound.>

Mercury: What do you think? Moleman? Please tell me it's a moleman!

<Dark shadows shamble forward from the dark. Their eyes a fiery red, framed only by shadows and bone-white face-plating.>

Mercury: B-Because everybody loves molemen! E-Even me! In fact, I'd say I'm the biggest... Oh boy...

--------------------------------------------------

<Combining your strength, both you and Mercury manage to fend off the Grimm. The last one attempted to ambush atop the ambush by striking you from above. Mercury managed to intercept, leaving the Grimm open for you to deliver the killing blow. You put away your weapon as a portal opens behind you.>

Mercury: (Sighs) Without that relic, not even a sparkly portal to parts unknown can cheer me up.

<You ask Mercury if the reason he's upset is because of his "terrifying client".>

Mercury: When she finds out how bad I screwed up this job... Or worse, when she sends Tyrian to find ME?! I will be...

<For... Ugh... For em-FAH-sis, Mercury draws a line across his neck with a grotesque sound. You make a quip about being made as effective as mercury medicine.>

Mercury: Exactly! You go, new guy! And by that, I mean the new, fully variant and heroically imagined-

<You offer Mercury to come back to the Tower with you?!>

Ozpin: NO!.

<You inform Mercury of how it's magically safe from Grimm?! What are you doing?!>

Ozpin: NO!.

Pyrrha: HELL NO!.

<You offer it as a place for him to hide while tracking down Cinder- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!>

Ozpin: NOOO!.

Pyrrha: NOOO!.

<You... Why? Why are you telling him it would help fight off the Grimm?>

Mercury: If you insist~! Look, Dad; I'm gonna be in a self-insert story~!