#engineer x male reader

[wisteriaiswriting]

Tire Me Out

Words: 650

Stumbling through your dark room, having stubbed your toe on your bed frame twice. Lightly kicking anything in your way, with only the faint moonlight guiding you to the lightswtich near the door. Shutting your eyes and covering them when the light was turned on, slowly pulling them away as you adjusted.

The clock on the wall told you the time, 2:52. Fuck. What was wrong with you today? Shaking your head before looking around, hoping to find something to steal your attention until you pass out where you were. Something you would definitely regret in the morning, but much to your dismay there was nothing.

Huffing as you switch the light off, reaching for the door only to hit the wood. Taking a deep breath in, silently but seething as you let it go. Finally getting the door open to find a pitch black hallway, unable to see even arms length from you. Scrambling through a nearby storage bin full of junk, luckily finding a small torch.

Now that you were awake and outside your room you realized two things, how dry your throat was, and it was fucking freezing. But you couldn’t find the energy to search for something warm or return to bed yet, so you quietly made your way down the hall.

Normally you’d find others awake, like cascading from under doorways with whatever they did cutting through the silence. But not tonight, it seemed what Medic said had everyone listening. The medbay door was slightly open but he wasn’t anywhere in sight, who was likely off in Heavy’s room.

Sniper wasn’t even in the base but you couldn’t care less to check on him, not like he had much else to be doing anyways. Hearing snores from a variety of rooms, Demo, Soldier and even some from Scout. Not daring to enter Spy’s or Pyro’s room, but you were daring when it came to Engineer.

Warm light was covering the ground and you, swear to god, could feel the heat from how long he’s had the light on. Without the background noise of tools running you had to be quiet entering, which he didn’t notice. Finding him hunched over his desk, sketching on some blueprint paper.

“What are ya doing cowboy?”

He dropped his pencil in an instead, reaching for a nearby wrench. Slouching when he noticed it was you, only to pick up the pencil again.

“Could say the same for you darlin~”

“You could, but I asked first!”

Not noticing him wince at your voice, walking around him. Unable to fight the urge to pick up and look at everything in reach. Stopping when he took something from your hand,

“Now, what are ya doin’ up this late?”

Only able to shrug at his question, watching him huff.

“If you're gonna stay, lay down in the cot.” Pointing his thumb towards the back of his workshop, finding a cot with a thin blanket and flat pillow. Sensing your thoughts he continued, “Or my bed might be better for ya.”

Instead of choosing any of the options he gave, you decided to sit on an empty spot on the desk.

“Don’t you go ruining anything now.”

“Me, break something of yours? Never.”

Feeling gunslinger sit on your hip, his flesh hand pinching the bottom of your shirt.

“I’d rather not risk it, so why don’t you hop off.”

“Then where would I go?”

Wordlessly he picked you up, quickly and surprisingly gently placing you onto his lap.

“That’s where, or would ya rather go back to bed?”

“I’d rather not, but what about you?”

“I’m more than comfortable here sugar,” A quick scan of your face revealed… some intentions alright. “What are ya planning there?”

He was surprisingly out of his usual overalls, which you welcomed. Lowering your hand under his shirt, laying it on his stomach.

“Oh don’t you worry about it~”

[gofishygo]

everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

[prettyboypistol]

TF2 Mercs x Romantic M!Reader

Scout

Has never had anyone pull out the stops for him. He's the youngest of 7, his life has been full of hand-me-downs and overlooking.

When you hand him a bouquet of roses he actually fucking cries.

Dinner, a movie while holding hands, cuddling under the stars? God, he feels like a princess in a disney movie and you're his prince charming

Soldier

He's touched, really, he is! But has a hard time expressing it. He gives you a big ol' kiss and thanks you with a smile, but is lowkey pretty awkward when you offer to dance with him.

He looooved the homecooked dinner you made for him- after all, restaurants aren't really his scene. Course after course if just amazing!

Afterwards, you convince him to slowdance/cuddledance with you while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He blushed so hard you can feel the heat on his cheeks.

Pyro

OH MY GOD??? ALL THIS FOR ME??? THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

Well, that's what you think they signed to you as they blubbered tearfully and hugged you. You decorated the recreation room with streamers of deep red and had a bowl of icecream to share while watching a movie!

Their favorite part is when you lit the streamers on fire, making a brief flaming heart.

Demoman

What's better than a roadtrip and sightseeing in a new place? You two snuck out and drove to Dallas for a long weekend out. It took you eons to convince the Administrator for a long weekend too, so it was extra heartfelt!

Big foods, big hats, and big inside jokes nobody else will understand, most of all- you take Demoman out to light fireworks in the desert. Big ones.

With all the clamoring to see the light show, Demoman is elated to kiss you in public with nobody noticing.

Engineer

Going to his favorite museum of engineering and listening to him talk is what Dell found most heartstopping. That dopey look of love as you listened intently had him in a chokehold.

Brushing the backs of your hands together feels more scandalous than holding your hand as you give him a teasing wink.

After, you cook his favorite meal? "Oh darlin', you're an angel."

Heavy

Doesn't know how to react at first, insisting he doesn't need to be spoiled. Then you pull out the handknitted mittens with bear paws on the inside and he's all the way on board to let you spoil him like a king.

You get a thank you kiss for everything you do, a promise to repay the favor later (;P) with every surprise you give him.

Oh boy does he, the more you love on Heavy, the more he loves on you.

Sniper

Survivalist camping with him over the weekend is how you win his heart. He sees you fishing at the crack of dawn and you just smile at him and hand him a pole. The comfortable silence has him blushing like a poppy.

Play wrestle this man. Play wrestle him and win. Pin this man to the ground with a playful yet exerting smile and he will never forget the moment until the day he does and then some. Then kiss him. Do it.

Spy

Ah, a nice restaurant where he doesn't have to worry about the bill, a gala where he doesn't have to assassinate anyone, and a handsome man he isn't obligated to sleep with for information- this is the perfect date!

He's quite the flirt as well, but as long as you can keep up with him, you'll win out in the end with your romance attack modifiers of the date on your side.

Dancing with him is a must, even if you're bad, it's still overwhelmingly charming to Spy.

Medic

YOU BOUGHT HIM NEW SYRINGES AFTER HIS OLD ONES SNAPPED???? AWWW YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!!!

Much like Spy, Medic loves a fancy dinner and dancing, but he likes the thrill of a mission to help digest his food. That's why you two break into the blood donation truck and take some especially weird samples of blood that you find.

While the police chase you, you two share a kiss. Be gay, do crime!

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

god im thinking of arthur 🫡🫡

arthur whos always had a teensy tiny crush on charles' friend (so, partially older!reader) but as they get older and reader matures (maybe hes charles' engineer too), the feelings get worse and he confesses and reader has a whole moment of conflict bcuz like.. thats my bff's baby brother, omfg, but also when tf did he get hot

(can u tell i have thoughts about this)

-bear ❤️

'tis the season for arthur appreciation here at the koala pastries bakery ❤️

arthur totally had a childhood crush on charles' best friend. he can deny it all he likes, but his maman saw the way he looked at you. like you'd hung every star in the sky.

she'll never tell arthur why she did it, but you were definitely always the friend she asked to "just play with him for a moment" while you were waiting for charles. when you were kids, arthur was always just your best friend's admittedly cute younger brother. but that was it. you didn't really think anything more of it. then you went off to university to study engineering and arthur only saw you every now and then. it was still enough to make him fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

when charles joins ferrari, arthur is over the moon for him. a little jealous, a little bit mourning what might have been, but over the moon nonetheless. and then comes the announcement. the youngest race engineer and the youngest driver ferrari has ever had. it's you. arthur just might be happier for you than he is for his brother. charles throws an extravagant party for both of you. parties were never really your scene.

you end up sitting on the curb and looking up at the stars. arthur goes looking for you. he's sitting beside you, and he looks over and sees your handsome face under the moonlight, and he just says it.

"i've been in love with you since we were kids."

you freeze. you look over at arthur, whose cheeks are probably redder than you've ever seen them (and he's done his fair share of blushing in front of you), and it clicks. it's always been arthur, you think. but then you remember who you're talking to. it's arthur leclerc. it's your best friend's baby brother. it's your best friend's baby brother who grew up crazy hot, but your best friend's baby brother nonetheless. for a moment, you consider leaving.

you don't.

you lean over and kiss arthur the way you suddenly realise you've wanted to for a very long time. you don't doubt he's been waiting longer.

it's quiet for a moment, and then ...

"your brother's gonna kill me."

"no, i won't."

you and arthur jump apart. as if you can trick charles into thinking he never saw what he very clearly did. it may have been night, but the streets of monaco were never so dark that he'd miss his best friend kiss his brother.

"i've been waiting for this for years," charles tells you and arthur. "glad you finally confessed. just no making out in front of me and don't hurt him or i'll hit you with my car."

"noted." you nod, grinning at your best friend and playfully shooing him away.

you wasted almost twenty years, you weren't gonna waste another second on anything other than kissing your—

well, you didn't really know what he was. your arthur. he was that.

yours. and you were his.

[5eraphim]

https://www.tumblr.com/5eraphim/706289447610761216/medic-or-engineer-with-someone-who-ran-away-on

you touch on the idea of collars briefly at the end of this - i love it. i feel like engie specifically would stick a shock collar on just to make sure attitude is kept in check, complete with a little tag with his title on it (whether it be daddy or sir or whatever)

Character: The Engineer 🦫 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M ( MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, abduction, mind games, possessiveness, NSFW mention, dehumanization, forced domestication, reader is kept gender neutral

Word Count: 750

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

From your perspective, the collar was a cruel physical reminder of your place, forever shackled to Engie's side as his enduring live-in hostage. An untamperable heavy-industrial device which clipped your wings and effectively nullified any resilience you tried to hold onto or any kind of hope to fight him off. Let alone ever regain your freedom. With this painfully literal weight around your shoulders, the grief felt altogether too much to endure. It's not like he'd officially "won" by forcing you to wear a collar, but the collar was as depressing as it was humiliating. 

From Engie's perspective, the collar was, at least at first, little more than a fun side project. An electrical collar designed to keep his favorite test subject from escaping confinement, strong enough to prevent human tampering from the inside. But as he understood exactly how it made you feel so domesticated and broken down, the more it spurs him on.

The slightest consolation you had to comfort yourself with pertaining to the shock collar and a tracking device within, at least you could trust Engie to design something comfortable and practical. Something nearly impossible for you to chip away at or to break by yourself. (As if any other Conagers would help you escape if you asked.)

It wouldn't be painfully tight or abrase your skin. Engie would be sure to pad the inside generously to keep the cold, hard metal from damaging your neck. Still, while this protects you, it has the unfortunate side effect of making the device much bulkier, forcing you to be almost always aware of the device strapped around your neck's sensitive skin.

Engie likes to mindlessly drum his fingers against the metal when the two of you are cuddling or run his thumb along the area where the lock is connected to the collar. Especially loves the sound of his gloves squicking as they rub against the collar. 

Nothing is sexier to him than thinking about you stripped down in nothing but the collar, warming his bed at night, waiting faithfully for him to return home after a long day. It really fuels his possessive side to see you shackled with his collar, without any clothes to hide behind and nowhere to run, forever bound to his bedside by the threat of force. He's also turned on thinking about you desperately trying to cling to your inner resilience and attempting pitifully to fight back. Knowing you're not entirely mind-broken yet but still have that helpless look in your eye and a kind of limp quietness on account of the exhaustion that fuels his ego and libido.

It's painful to imagine breaking free now. You've been shocked as punishment for bad behavior before, and you didn't want to think about what you'd feel if you tried to go out of bounds now. Engie would also install a physical hook on the back of the collar, giving him the option to lock or chain you down physically with some kind of a leash if he feels like it. (Additionally, as a shorter guy, he likes that he has the option to force you to look up at him by grabbing onto the collar and craning your neck upward to look him in the eye.)

If you still try to fight him back and refuse to give in and let him take control, Engie would be more than happy to whip you up a pair of locking cuffs to match the collar and to see how long you want to resist while you're forced to entirely rely on him.

Sooner than you anticipated, the paranoia of being forced to live like this caught up with you. Feeling endlessly on edge, aware of the weight around your neck keeping you from letting your guard down around Engie.

Always looking over your shoulder, expecting to see him behind you when you thought you were alone. The psychological toll of having to live like this was almost as bad as the physical toll. With every passing day, you feared your grip on reality, your memories of a life outside of the Conagher family land slipping from your mind as you were reprogrammed in real-time against your will to become nothing but a subhuman docile and well-behaved pet.

The name Conager is engraved on the back, but yours isn't; as far as Engie is concerned, you're his property first and foremost and a person of your own second.

[the-teufort-nine]

engineer x pyro x m!reader relationship headcanons?

pretty please and thank you!!

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Texas Toast x M!Reader Headcanons ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♡- Pyro and Engineer were already together before you came along, having started dating in secret not too long after they started working together. (Not because they think their team would judge them, but because both of them know how strict the Administrator is about any kind of relationship.) Neither of them realized that they were poly until they saw you in the showers one day. After that, they were pretty much done for, and every new victory you helped them achieve or enemy you saved them from made them fall further and further in love with you.

♡- Pyro made the first move, surprisingly enough. Engie wanted to, but you kept making him feel too flustered to get his words out. Thankfully for all of you, Pyro is much more confident when it comes to voicing their feelings to a potential partner, even if people have a hard time understanding them sometimes.

♡- They asked you out by burning an enemy Spy that was about to backstab you to a crisp and then handing you a sweet love note asking if you'd like to have dinner with them and Engineer. The two of them actually put a lot of effort into it; buying rose petals, candles, fancy wine to go with your favourite dinner. (They may or may not have paid off Spy/Miss Pauling to find out your favourite dish.)

♡- Perfect gentlemen until the alcohol kicks in. Engineer ends up a little buzzed by the time dinner is over, while Pyro absolutely cannot hold their booze. The fire bug totally ends up snuggling up to you, while Engie pulls out his guitar. If dinner hadn't made you fall in love, getting serenaded beneath a star-filled sky definitely did the trick.

♡- You get many kisses before the sun comes up, and you definitely end up sporting a couple of love bites and maybe just a liittllleee bit of stubble kiss rash.

♡- Once you're official, expect plenty of quiet complements during battle and getting shown off to. Being in a relationship for as long as they have, Engie and Pyro have memorized all of the camera blind spots, and they will team up to pull you into them for quick kisses during battle. Early on in your relationship, Pyro isn't quite comfortable with you seeing their face, so expect to occasionally get blinded by a hard hat being placed on your head and tipped down over your eyes so that your arsonist partner can give you a smooch.

♡- Absolute gods when it comes to appreciating your body. Got muscles? Show off your strength, darling! Got a bit- or a lot- of a tummy? That's just more of you to love! Stretch marks? Engie's gonna be tracing them while y'all are cuddling. Freckles or beauty marks? Pyro has a marker out and they're making new constellations on your skin. Scars? Hell, who doesn't have scars in their line of work? Point is, they'll find things to love about you, no matter what you look like.

♡- When you three go out on the town, they definitely get jealous jealous if someone tries flirting with you. They know you're handsome, but that doesn't give people a free pass to flirt with their boyfriend! You should probably let this stranger down easy before they end up with a lasso around their throat or set on fire.

What, did you think these two weren't just as insane as the rest of their teammates? Hell no! If anything, Pyro and Engineer are even worse than some of them!

♡- You smell like bonfires, oil, and coffee. Forever. You cannot escape this.

♡- Engie's love language is gift giving, while Pyro's is touch and acts of service. You can expect plenty of little useful gifts and homemade meals when you're dating these two.

♡- Overall, I think these two would be very attentive, if kind of possesive/crazy, partners!

[808airsoftbros]

The Half Engine (Blackpink)

Author: Just a teaser hint for my upcoming Halloween oneshot. If you want to see more of my stories check out my Masterlist

The Original Half Engine story was by: [thebogieboy] (His Youtube) Genre: Crossover/Horror

~

Author's POV

It was a ordinary day on the island of Sodor, the engines had been working hard all day on their branch lines delivering passengers and goods across the island.

They were all looking forward to a goodnights long rest at the sheds, everyone that was except for James.

"How long are we going to be kept waiting? At this rate, will be home by nightfall," James sighed as he was waiting at the station.

"Have no fear, James, I'm confident will be back home in no time!" His driver assured but that didn't help ease his mind one bit as he had already seen the sun about to set down soon.

But it didn't help the fact that the weather forecast that there will fog this evening meaning their visibility is limited and travelling down the tracks will be dangerous.

Thankfully for James, he didn't have to wait much longer as his last passengers boarded the coaches.

James blew his whistle as he puffed out of the station to the next, the trip lasted about a couple hours and by the time he shunted the coaches into the yard, it was dark and foggy as predicted.

Despite Jame's headlamp shining brightly, he could hardly see a thing ahead of him so he had to travel down the line cautiously to prevent him from hitting anything.

Despite the Driver and Fireman being experienced navigators, they were eventually lost in the fog, and they didn't know they travelled down into a abandoned siding on the line.

"Stupid fog... I can't see a thing..." James muttered as he puffed down the line.

"Yeah, can't see anything in the distance either, no signs, nothing I'm afraid..." His driver replied and sighed.

"In that case, why don't we just get rid of these unused..." James paused as he saw something that caused his boiler and firebox to freeze.

James applied the brakes slowly putting him into a halt, the fireman and driver were confused and asked what he had stopped for.

However, James couldn't mutter a word out of his mouth as he shook nervously and the Driver got out of the cab to see what was wrong and they gasped as they caught the sight of a scrap engine.

"W-what the bloody hell?! What kind of sick person would scrap an engine like that?!" The driver exclaimed as they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

It was indeed a sorrowful sight to see the empty soul of an engine lying on the side but this was different... The engine was cut perfectly in half without error.

Half of the boiler, cab, funnel, and whistle can be seen, and they wonder how this would be possible as no skilled scrapper is capable of such a thing.

"I don't wanna know! Get me out of here! Get me out of here!" James demanded as he was too terrified to linger any longer.

The crew were quick to agree, they boarded into his cab and James reversed out of the abandon line as fast as his pistons and wheels can take him.

Back at the sheds, the engines were finally able to rest after a long day of work, Sir Topham Hatt arrived to deliver some news to the engine but they had to wait as James was absent.

Finally, James arrived back at Tidmouth sheds and the others were a bit worried and curious as to where James has been all this time as it was late in the night.

"Ah, James, so glad you can join us," Sir Topham Hatt greeted but James didn't reply as he was still too shaken from what he had seen earlier.

"Anyway, onto the point, I've come here to inform you all that we will be visited by celebrities from Korea, so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior, we do not want to give a bad impression, do we? Gordon, I'd like you to transport them from Vicarstown to Tidmouth Station, there we will begin the tour," He explained to the engines and they were quite intrigued and excited as they never had celebrities coming from across the world.

After that, Sir Topham Hatt got into his personal car and drove away from the sheds.

The engines chatted a bit about tomorrow until they eventually fell asleep except for James who could hardly sleep as he had a dreadful feeling that something or someone was watching them from the distance.

The night went on without any incident, James hardly got any sleep but still carried on with his duties as Gordon coupled to the express coaches and made his way to Vicarstown to pick up the guests along with Sir Topham Hatt.

When they arrived, Gordon saw a group of four young women, they stared at him with such curiosity and fascination that it almost made Gordon nervous.

"Ah, good morning, girls, I hope you all had a safe and pleasant trip! It's such a pleasure to have you all come to my railway, my name is Sir Topham Hatt II, and I'm the second generation running this fine railway. This is one of my prestige and trustworthy engines, Gordon, he will be taking you all to Tidmouth station, and we will begin our tour from there!" Sir Topham Hatt greeted to the four girls and they all smiled.

"Thank you for having us, sir, my name is Jisoo, I'm the eldest, and this man here is my manager," Jisoo introduced herself.

"I'm Jennie, I'm the second oldest, surely, you've once watched our music videos?" Jennie introduced herself with a hint of pride.

"My name is, Chaeyoung but everyone calls me Rosé, it's a pleasure to meet you~," Rosé introduced herself with such elegance in her voice.

"Hello, I'm Lisa, the Maknae of the group! This railway is such a nice place!" Lisa introduced herself as she admired the scenery and countryside.

After the introductions, the girls and the Controller boarded onto the express coach and Gordon puffed out of Vicarstown and began the journey to Tidmouth station.

~

Y/N's POV

As I finished doing my morning routine, I put on my work uniform, put on my coat, I put on my shoes, and walked out of the dormitory to Tidmouth sheds.

It was early in the morning at five am, I yawned a bit as I greeted Thomas as I was his driver.

"Good morning, Y/N, I heard we're getting visitors all the way from Korea!" Thomas greeted and I nodded.

"Yeah, I heard about it, they're a Kpop group called Blackpink, I doubt you heard of them... Ya know, since you're an engine," I replied.

"Oh, you'd be right, who is Blackpink and what is Kpop?" Thomas asked as he was slowly generating steam in his boiler.

"Kpop is a music genre, it's quite popular nowadays, can't go one day without hearing one of their songs, and they are talented singers and dancers, I watch them some time," I answered as I was shoveling coal in his firebox getting ready to start the day.

Then we heard a loud whistle and I recognized it to be Gordon as he rolled onto the rolling platform and joined the rest of us in the sheds.

I was wondering what was going on as Gordon should be heading out to take the express coaches by now but I was shocked to see Blackpink themselves.

They were walking with my boss Sir Topham Hatt, and they all stared at the engines with wonder and fascination.

"Good morning, everyone! I'd like to introduce you all to Blackpink, and they have come here for a tour around the island as I announced last night! To start things off, I'd like you all to introduce yourselves!" He instructed.

Henry, Emily, Thomas, Percy, and Edward all introduced themselves to the girls and letting out loud whistles as they generated enough steam in their boilers.

All except for James who still looked uneasy but he snapped out of his trance and introduced himself giving a fake smile trying to hide something.

"Wah, it's such a pleasure to meet you all! I heard so much about this place and it's amazing to be here in person!" Lisa replied as she walked up to the engines.

"Now, Thomas, Y/N, and Elliot, I'd like you to give them the tour around Sodor. Toby will be taking over your branch line for the day, that will be all!" The boss ordered us and we nodded.

"Yes, sir!' Thomas acknowledged and the controller got into his car and drove away leaving us alone.

I showed the girls inside of Thomas's cab, I let them blew the whistle a few times, but while I showed them around, I noticed James looked uneasy and so does the others.

"James, is everything okay?" Edward asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Oh, it's nothing..." James tried to play it off but it wasn't going to deter Edward one bit.

"Well, if I don't know any better but is quite rare... Poor little James has seen a ghost," Gordon teased.

Henry and Gordon laughed but the others remained silent including Y/N and the Blackpink members.

"I-I did see something..." James softly spoke up and the two stopped laughing.

"And what is that?" Henry asked in an amusing tone.

"I saw a scrap engine..." He answered and their smiles dropped to a confused to look.

"A scrap engine? That's it? I understand it's rather distressing to see those poor souls but we've all seen them plenty of times yet you never once looked this disturbed," Gordon pointed out but James sighed.

"T-this one was different, the engine was cut in half without a fault... Never seen anything like that before," James mentioned and the others were deeply disturbed.

Myself, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rosé, we're also disturbed about this, except for Jennie was very skeptical about the whole thing and wondered if they were just hallucinating the whole thing.

"James, you must've seen a victim of... 'The Half Engine'..." Thomas replied to him with a nervous look on his face.

"Thomas! This is no time for teasing!" James angrily growled.

"I'm not teasing you! I know exactly what happened!" He assured and Edward insisted on telling us.

Looking at Jennie's skeptical expression, I thought she wouldn't bother listening but she stayed and paid attention to Thomas anyway.

"A long time ago, when Sir Topham Hatt I was running the railway, it was the time when the North Western Railway was founded, many engines had been brought here to help including myself and others. However... there was one engine that was different," Thomas paused as he recalled the tale.

"Something horrible went wrong with her construction, she only had half a face, and the other half being her smokebox door, we could hardly understand what she was trying to say, maintenance on her was a nightmare to watch or listen to, and through all of this... She was in immense excruciating pain, every night we heard her crying and pleading for the pain to go away, it was so horrid that many of us could hardly stomach it," Thomas explains the whole story and the girls were in deep shock about this and again deeply disturbed.

Lisa and Rosé looked at each other with fear written all over their faces and Jisoo didn't say a word but Jennie was skeptical as ever.

"But the nastiest of us and even some of the crews saw it as nothing but a joke, this would all boil up inside of her and one day, her behavior changed for the worst... She became more violent, snapping at everyone she came across, even those who pitied her, and to make things worse, at night, she traveled down the sheds and down a heavily forested line, and when she returned, she swore that we would all perish on this railway, in her gargled barely identical speech, and we began to believe she was possessed and deranged in all her suffering, seeking any ways to get rid of her deformity,"

"Eventually, the Director of the Railway had enough, and he ordered another engine to take her down the smelter yard to be cut up for scrap, at the same time, myself and another engine were heading home from work, but as we made our way down the line, we saw smoke and multiple sounds of fire engines, we rushed to see what happened, and there was a sight I'll never forgot..." Thomas again paused.

"We never saw her again after that day... But rumors spread from workmen about noises on foggy nights, they all told us the same thing, it sounded like someone screaming in pain, and now it seems like her spirit still roams around the railway to this day..." Thomas finished his tale.

Again, the others were silent as the grave, deeply disturbed and terrified of this, the girls were shivering as they looked down the line wondering if perhaps the Half Engine was watching them.

"Pft. What a load of rubbish! Come on guys, you can't be seriously believing this is all real?! It's fake! Just like every other folklore tale! James, what you say may have been a hallucination!" Jennie exclaimed but the others didn't seem to agree with her.

"Jennie, I'm being serious here! It's all real and I was there!" Thomas warned her but she scoffed.

"Yeah, sure... Almost as real as any other scary ghost engine story!" Jennie sarcastically replied and Thomas sighed in defeat.

But little did Jennie know was that something was lurking in the shadows of the yard, watching the others before disappearing in the wind.

I swore I caught a glimpse of an engine down near the shunting yards but it vanished before I got a good look but I have a bad feeling about the whole situation especially for Jennie's safety.

We continued on the tour as scheduled, the camera crew and the girls were vlogging around the island as Thomas, Eliiot and I, were travelling down the main lines.

When it was getting dark, we head down back to the main line and concluded the day as we got good footage for their Youtube channel, and we arrived back to Tidmouth sheds.

After I finished putting Thomas into his designated shed, I guided the girls to the dormitory where they'll be sleeping for the rest of their stay.

"For a railway dormitory, it sure is nice..." Jisoo complimented.

"Yeah, not bad, right? Provided a place to stay and get paid, can't really beat that," I replied and chuckled.

"By the way, Y/N, is the Half Engine, real?" Rosé nervously asked and I sighed.

"If I'm being honest... That is up to you to believe what is real and what is not," I spoke to her with a solemn tone and she gulped.

Not wanting to intrude any further, I bid them goodnight and I went back into my own dorm to get some rest for the night.

~

Jennie's POV

As we settled into our dorm, the girls were getting ready for bed and go to sleep but I wasn't tired yet as I wanted to find out myself if the story of the Half Engine is real or just made up to scare us.

Regardless, I don't believe in the thing but I'm willing to give it a shot, I grabbed my phone and flashlight.

I snuck out of the bedroom without waking up the girls as I quietly exited the dormitory, the night was foggy and quiet giving an uneasy ambience.

Despite all of that, I pressed on as I made my way into the heavily forested line where the Half Engine is said to reside.

I pop up my camera app on my phone beginning to record my investigation.

"Alright, Blinks, this is the investigation of the legend of the Half Engine, where it says is a ghostly engine with half a face and the other half being her smokebox door. To be honest, guys, I'm not too sure about the whole thing, so let us find out!" I started the recording as I ventured down the foggy line.

Ten minutes into my mischief yet dangerous investigation there was nothing out of the ordinary that appeared other than some owls and occasionally deer.

Eventually I was starting to grow bored and figured this whole thing was a waste of time and began pondering if I should just head back to the dormitory.

"Aish, you know what Blinks, I'm tired so this concludes-" She was cut off when she heard a loud banshee like scream causing her to freeze.

"U-uhhh... D-did you hear that...?" She nervously asked the camera and again the scream was heard but this time it was louder.

Then I heard a faint sound of puffing of a steam engine heading my way along with the banshee-like scream.

"W-whos there?! This isn't funny?! Thomas is that you?!" Jennie called out but there was no response.

But at the corner of my eye, I looked into the fog and my stomach dropped as I saw a rusted engine charging at me. But her face was skeletal and the other half being her smokebox... IT CANNOT BE!!!

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I screamed in terror as the deranged engine was charging torwards me and was about to run me over.

I closed my eyes standing still then I heard someone shouting out my name as I was trembling and frozen in terror.

"Jennie?"

"Jennie?"

"Jennie!"

I opened my eyes fearing to see that ungodly engine but it was long gone and I sighed in relief when I saw Y/N with Thomas with worried looks on their faces.

"Are you okay, Jennie?" Y/N asked as he shined his lantern in his hand.

"I-I guess..." I answered as I was shaken.

"You really shouldn't have gone out this late, do you know what could be out here? Bears, wolfs, and maybe even dangerous people," Y/N scolded me and I looked down in shame.

I pulled out my phone to call my members as they are probably worried sick about me but I gasped when I saw my phone cut clean in half without error...

"N-no way... How is this possible...?" I trembled as I tried to figure out what the fuck happened to my phone.

"You should consider yourself luckty it was your phone... Instead of you," Thomas spoke and I looked up to him.

"What do you mean...? The Half Engine did this to my phone...?" I nervously asked and Y/N nodded.

"Not many people live to tell their tale... Instead, they are found with their corpses cut in half... Just like the engines. I saw her once myself and that's why I consider myself the luckiest man on the island," Y/N explained and shivers ran down my spine as I felt thankful that it took my phone instead of me.

Thomas and Y/N gave me a ride back to the sheds and he guided me back to the dormitory and I was in for a lecture from Jisoo that night but that was the least of my concerns.

Whatever I saw... Whether it be the Half Engine or not, I will never forget it and I feel like this will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I feel sorry and regret that I didn't believe Thomas and instead risked my own life to prove that the Half Engine is nothing but a made-up folklore tale.

Throughout the rest of the trip, nothing happened and I never saw the Half Engine again, but the thought of it lingered in my mind, and sometimes... At night, when I sleep... I feel being watched by something or someone.

[gayf1hoe]

Behind the Pit Wall

Scenario - Y/N is a new race engineer for Williams but he never expected to become a race engineer straight away, bit following the resignation of Logan's race engineer he receives a very prompt promotion. The two quickly hit it off professionally but their relationship quickly exceeds professional.

Race 1 - Spa 

Nervously and full of anticipation I take my seat on the pit wall for the first time as a race engineer for Williams.

Ever since graduating University I have been working in F1 for the past 2 years, last year I was with Sauber as a junior race engineer and I applied to Williams on the off chance they would actually agree to take me but to my genuine surprise they did. 

When I first met with James he said I would be a secondary Engineer in other words I was just there to assist the main engineer. However when I walked in this morning I was told I would be Logan Sargeant's permanent race engineer after his engineer resigned unexpectedly. 

As I'm sitting in the pit wall looking at all the data, it's starting to set in. I'm a driver's race engineer with just a year's experience, talk about being thrown in the deep end. 

Logan hasn't got the best track record but he's a great person with a great sense of humour and undeniable charm so I am honoured I get to work with him. 

After qualifying yesterday we are in P11 and we missed out on Q3 by 0.012 so it's a little frustrating but the way things go in F1. 

“Logan radio check” 

“Yep, your voice sounds great, and mine” 

“even better, 30 seconds to lights out maintain focus and be clinical” 

When the lights go out my heart pounds faster and my palms sweat a little. 

We don't have the best start as Logan ends up in P15 and with the weather conditions around Spa showing no signs of improving cars are spinning left, right and centre. The strategists and I decide to bring Logan in now for the inters before everyone else 

“Logan box, box” 

As he comes in I see a train of cars following behind him but our crew do a fantastic job at fitting the new tyres that will stay on until the chequered flag.

Logan emerges back on the track at P11 which is a great advantage for us and I coach him through every lap telling him where he can improve and with that he manages to overtake a few people, and by the final lap he's probably sick of my voice. 

“Logan that's P7 really good job today, do your cool down lap and we will see you in Parc Fermé”

“Yeah good job, thanks for all your guidance today we did great today, we will continue to improve”. 

“Absolutely, sorry if my voice became annoying”

“Never I loved hearing your voice every second, and that's not sarcasm”. 

After the race I am interviewed by a reporter about what I think of my first race as a lead race engineer.

Reporter: Y/N great result for your first race. How did it feel to be thrown right in at the deep end and get such a great result?

Y/N: Yeah of course it was stressful being thrown in at the deep end, I arrived in the paddock this morning and was told I'm Logan's new race engineer so it was a little stressful but we did really well despite the conditions and it's a good start for Logan.

Reporter: We saw you too having lets say some ‘flirtatious moment's’ . Is there a relationship brewing?

Y/N: Haha me and Logan are just naturally flirtatious people and I think we have a good work relationship together.

As I'm answering questions Logan comes from behind me and jump scares me and the reporter turns her attention to him.

Reporter: Logan what do you think of your new race engineer?

Logan:  He's amazing and he really helped me out there today so I'm grateful I have got him

Reporter: You complimented his voice a few times, is there something going on there? 

Logan: Well yes he has a naturally calming voice and it's great to hear in stressful situations. 

Race 24 - Abu Dhabi 

As my second season in F1 comes to an end I am extremely happy where Logan is at P8 in the championship with only 1 point separating him and Stroll. 

Coming into this season we could never have predicted that me or him would do this well this season and since Logan has been performing so well this season consistently he is on the move to Mercedes next year but what he doesn't know is that I am also moving to Mercedes. 

Additionally since the season exposition mine and Logan's relationship has well let's say developed. It is sort of unconfirmed knowledge that we are dating but neither of us confirmed it but our constant flirting and physical contact has confirmed it for us.

“Logan 30 seconds to lights out I want a great finish from you today” 

Logan starts from P6 which is his best starting position in his career so I'm anticipating a good race. 

He gets a good start and quickly takes P5 from Norris and maintains a good pace. 

When he comes in for his first and only pit of the race and he drops down to P10, one of Logan's biggest problems is that after a pit stop and he loses positions he thinks it's all over so we have been working on his

resilience and as he was the first car to pit I know that the cars in front will pit soon and he will be bumped up a few places. 

With 15 laps to go Logan has made his way up to P5 and is chasing Lance for P4 and heading along the DRS straight he manages to get past and we now set our eyes on Oscar Piastri.

“Alright Logan it's Piastri ahead 2.1 seconds they are having mechanical issues with their brakes” 

For 14 laps straight Logan is tailing Oscar and it's painful and nerve wracking to watch but in the final lap in the final DRS zone Logan squeezes past him and whilst it's a good move the team doesn't celebrate just yet. But when he crosses the line there is a roar of cheers from the garage behind me.

And my normal angelic radio voice turns into a coarse shout 

“Logan that is P3, well done, I'm so proud of you and the improvements you have made and those 15 points put you in P6 in the standings”

“Y/N thank you for all your hardwork and dedication this year you have really helped me achieve great things and I will really miss hearing your voice”

“Well, do you want another piece of good news?” 

“Of course” 

“You aren't going to Mercedes alone, I'm coming along as well as your race engineer” 

“Holy shit that's the best thing I have been told, I would have missed your voice on the radio. I love you Y/N”

“I love you to Logan”

For the first time Logan is on the podium and the entire team is here watching him and cheering him on. 

It's a great sight to see him smiling and finally believing in himself. 

[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

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

TF2 Masterlist!!

Request list Rules for requesting Following requirements You can request for blue or red team, and Emesis Blue too!! ___

Scout:

Intertwined, sewn together - Scout/Heavy/Sniper/Engineer x GN! Reader romantic headcanons

It's you- all the roads lead back to you - Scout/Medic/Pyro x GN! Reader enemies to lover headcanons

Erm... - Scout/Medic x GN! Reader brainrot platonic headcanons

Medic:

It's you- all the roads lead back to you - Scout/Medic/Pyro x GN! Reader enemies to lover headcanons

Erm... - Scout/Medic x GN! Reader brainrot platonic headcanons

Just trust me, you'll be fine - Medic/Heavy x transmasc! Reader headcanons (tw transphobia)

Soldier:

__

Spy:

__

Heavy:

Intertwined, sewn together - Scout/Heavy/Sniper/Engineer x GN! Reader romantic headcanons

Just trust me, you'll be fine - Medic/Heavy x transmasc! Reader headcanons (tw transphobia)

Pyro:

It's you- all the roads lead back to you - Scout/Medic/Pyro x GN! Reader enemies to lover headcanons

Sniper:

Intertwined, sewn together - Scout/Heavy/Sniper/Engineer x GN! Reader romantic headcanons

Demoman:

__

Engineer:

Intertwined, sewn together - Scout/Heavy/Sniper/Engineer x GN! Reader romantic headcanons

Miss Pauling:

__

___

I haven't added anything yet but am very excited to!!

[wisteriaiswriting]

Mercs as Parents Headcanons

Words: 2379

Jeremy either takes after his mother and is the absolute top tier caretaker, or just like Spy and can’t do shit for you.

He doesn’t even realize how many skills he has picked up from his Ma growing up.

Will spoil you with everything he can get his hands on. (Tries his best to make sure you don’t grow up similarly to how he did.)

Every chance he gets he’ll bring you along to meet his Ma and brothers, so your Grandma and uncles, alongside any cousins that come along.

Really enjoys going on morning jogs with you, but if that isn’t your thing he’ll play some baseball with you.

***

If he was being honest, cooking wasn’t one of his favourite activities. But if and whenever you asked he never minded, actually excited to do this for you. Reminding him of his Ma, which led him to messaging her for recipes to use in the future, helping him for today's breakfast.

Looking many times at the pancake recipe sent over from her, they were basic buttermilk but there were plenty of toppings stashed away. He managed to get a decent pile finished before another merc entered the kitchen, not needing to turn to know who it was.

“THERE'S THE SMELL OF A CLASSIC AMERICAN BREAKFAST!”

“Yeah, yeah, there ya go pal.”

Reaching over to the plate to grab the top pancakes, ignoring the heat to throw them right at Soldier. Who caught them, cramming the first one into his mouth while tearing the other one apart to give to his raccoons. When it was finished the group of them rushed out, leaving Scout and you together again.

Within minutes the rest of the batter was cooked, the stack of pancakes were separated onto two plates. Sliding them across the table, meaning you had to grab both so they wouldn’t go sliding off. While he dug through the pantry, grabbing any types of syrups and toppings he could find.

Walking back over to you and letting everything drop onto the table, sitting down himself before reaching for the sugar.

“Eat up, don’t want any of ‘em going to waste. Ma would’a whooped any of us kids for wastin’ that!”

Guess you’re American now. Solly will not listen, and doesn’t really care what you say about it.

Keep him away from the kitchen, he cannot make the simplest of meals that are not MRE’s.

Just because he gave you the title of Sergeant doesn’t mean he’ll go easy on you in training, if anything he has you train harder.

Is very quick to get you ‘matching’ uniforms. (He claims it’s a Sergeant’s uniform but there’s really no difference.)

Will gladly get you your own raccoon. (Likely you’ll have to name it as he’ll give it the dumbest and most American name.)

***

The lot of you had just finished eatting dinner, allowing everyone to go off and do whatever they wanted. Which meant Soldier had gone somewhere doing something, either way at the moment you didn’t care what he was doing.

Until a loud, constant knocking started on your door, continuing ‘til you opened the door, finding the very man standing there all proud. In his, now scratched up and bleeding arms was a very unhappy raccoon. It was throwing itself around, screaming or whatever noise raccoons made.

Lieutenant Bites scampered around his feet, screeching back at the one in his arms before rushing into your room.

“SERGEANT, MEET THE NEWEST RECRUIT, UH… What's your name?”

His shouting quieted down for a few seconds to ask it, not that it’ll actually answer him. Only letting go when he noticed something in its mouth, holding it closer to find a finger. Confused until you shouted at him.

“SOLLY, IT BIT OFF YOUR FINGER!”

“OH!”

Not caring as the raccoon ran off into your room as well, rushing to grab the finger and bring him all the way to Medic.

No one is really sure who is caring for who at this point, and you don’t think the two of you know either.

They’re constantly dedicating and giving you drawings and plushies whenever you need them or even just when they feel like it.

Very often visits Engineer about anything and everything really, not that he ever minds the company. (Engineer feels like a very proud grandpa everytime Pyro comes by.)

It’s much easier and better if Pyro doesn’t cook, although they can make any easy to eat / make meals, so you won't ever starve.

If anyone ever tries to mess with you, they’ll have to go through Pyro first.

***

Pyro wanted to colour with someone, and with Engineer busy they wandered around to find you. Their first stop was your room, but with no luck finding you they walked around until they reached the living area. About to launch themselves over when they noticed how you were sitting, hunched over with your head dropped into your hands.

A few seconds passed before they moved again, rushing out of the room all the way back to their own. Grabbing one of their many plushies before returning, slowly approaching you. The familiar sight of Pyro didn’t phase you, nor did them sitting next to you.

What did surprise you was a plushie pushed into your arms.

The soft animal shouldn’t have brought you to tears but it did, wrapping your arms around it while holding it closer to you. Pyro had already placed their colouring book and supplies down, quickly wrapping their arms around you to pull you closer. You felt the cold material of their mask gently sit on your head as a faint, muffled hum could be heard.

He knows he isn’t the ‘parently’ type of man, it definitely didn’t help that everyone else said the same thing.

If you don’t like him drinking he’ll try to slow down, he really does and means well, but considering him and his body it’s quite hard to do.

Whether you ask him or not, at some point he’ll start going on about anything that comes to his mind, which can range from simple Scottish myths and legends to past situations he’s been in.

Is quite reluctant to let you meet his mother at all. (Even if she bullies him, she knows him well. Realizing how much he cares for you, so she cuts you some slack, not Demo though.)

He doesn’t care one bit about where you’re from or what language you speak, he will teach you some Scottish slang, and even some of the language itself.

***

You weren’t sure if the timing of your death was good or not, but either way it meant you didn’t have to walk all the way back to base. Able to have all your weapons and other accessories put away before any of the others returned, expecting Scout to come rushing through the door.

Finding out why when the door opened, seeing Demo slumped on his shoulder, arm thrown aross Scout. Eagerly chatting away while the younger merc barely spoke back, until he saw you.

“Y/N, back already?”

At your name Demo stood on his own, only for a few seconds though, collapsing onto you while using his empty hand to ruffle your hair.

“Y/N, laddie! Did I ever finish tellin’ ye about the…” Taking a quick drink of his scrumpy, “The selkie I ran into, a bit ago?”

Out of all the mercs he actually knows the most due to caring for his sisters.

There are times he will baby you, so you’ll need to let him know when it’s going too far so he backs off.

Most nights, if not all, are spent with him reading you books and reciting russian legends. (If you don’t understand Russian, he’ll spend time trying to translate them for you.)

If he ever finds out you aren’t eating properly he’ll spend hours cooking meals for you everyday if needed. (Proudly makes his mother’s recipes.)

He’s another person who keeps a close eye on your during battles, and tries to keep you near him and Medic.

***

The room was filled with the smell of cooked meat and vegetables, you sat at the dining table while Heavy stood in the kitchen. Soon a bowl was placed infront of you before he walked away again, it was a clear liquid with chopped up meat,

“That is Ukha, soup with fish.” Looking up at him, still waiting for the oven to finish. “This is Shashlik,” When it finally did finish he pulled the tray out, dumping the meat onto two plates. “Meat served on sticks.”

“They’re not on sticks though?”

Laughing at your words, placing the full plates on the table before opening a box next to him, pulling out said sticks.

“Here, sent all the way from Siberia.” Taking the plates to stab multiple bits of meat onto them, sliding the finished meal over to you when he was done. “As I work, eat, you need to grow stronger.”

Dell is probably the best parental figure out of the nine of them.

He gives you all the petnames he can think of. (Alongside Pyro, who has become your new sibling.)

Allows you two to sit and spend time in his workshop while he’s working, but gave you special permission to stay in there without him. (Which is a huge privilege only given to one other person.)

He puts anything of yours at the top of his priority list.

Tries to keep a close eye on you during any fights, if possible he keeps you close to him or his sentry.

Lil extra here - He has given you and Pyro kinda matching petnames. You’re ‘Sugar’ while Pyro is ‘Honey.’

***

Dell was busy working on his next project, which neither you or Pyro currently cared about. Both of you were focused on your drawing, spending nearly half an hour switching colours, even starting over once before finally finishing.

Clapping their hands after standing up, you added your final details as Pyro caught Dell’s attention.

“What’s up Honey?” Pointing back to you as you walked over, holding the paper behind your back. “Sugar?”

Swiftly placing it into his hands, unable to see much of his reaction has his goggles covered his eyes. Soon after he pulled them off, letting you both see his teary eyes.

“Aren’t you two sweet as pie…” All three of you knew how sweet you were, considering your petnames. “C’mere…”

Welcoming you both over into his embrace, carefully placing the drawing safely behind him on his desk.

Special dove privileges, you swear he might also be one with the amount of time he spends cooing over you.

He takes extra care during your surgeries, promising not to mess with anything he doesn’t need to.

Speaking of surgeries, if you ever feel like assisting him in any he will gladly welcome you. (The others are kinda scared though.)

You and Heavy are at the top of his priority list, on and off the battlefield.

He is a massive hypocrite, because if you dare mess one meal he will be on your ass about it.

***

While he was focused on some work, Archimedes had managed to slip out of the infirmary. Not realizing until hours later, when calling out didn’t reveal the bird he rushed around trying to find her.

Eventually he realized she must’ve left the room so he had to go searching, and luckily he didn’t need to search for long. Turning a corner and nearly running into you,

“Ah, Y/N, zere is a small problem…”

“Missing Archimedes?” Holding out your arms as you spoke, “Cause she came looking for me.”

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the sight.

“Aren’t you two just adorable!”

It is petnames galore! At first he might seem embarrassed but quickly embraces them. (Main ones are Roo, Joey, Chick and just adding lil onto them.)

He actually had good (adoptive) parents, so he knows how to do most things.

Doesn’t mean to, but he’s a slight helicopter parent. Keeps you in his scope and all around view.

Will give you a key and free access to his camper van.

***

This man is another massive hypocrite, he makes sure you’re getting enough sleep, eating well and staying healthy. (If you bother him back enough, he will do the same alongside you.)

It wasn’t new to not see Sniper having meals with the team, opting to spend that time in his camper. So he normally came by before it started, but today he was a bit behind. Walking into the room towards the counter, grabbing his plate before making his way back out.

Walking behind you, lightly patting your head.

“Come on, Roo.”

He didn’t wait for you, walking out as you scrambled to grab everything. Finding him standing at the main door to go outside, continuing when you reached him. The walk to his camper was quick but it was a comfortable silence.

Which was cut short when you both got comfortable inside, filling the air with laughter and conversation.

You should feel lucky that Scout isn’t aware of the relation between him and Spy, otherwise there would be a real one sided competition.

Please give him a break, he’s old and is nowhere near good at parental things.

Constantly leaving you all types of gifts in your room whenever you either mention wanting something, or he thinks you might enjoy it.

Gives you every petname he can think of (English and French), and at this point you think he might’ve forgotten your name.

He definitely tries to teach you french, praising you if you pick it up quickly while holding conversations.

***

“Qu'est-ce que j'ai dit sur le fait de surveiller ses arrières?”

"Qu'il faut toujours être sur ses gardes..."

Spy was cut off by the sound of the door opening, looking over to find Scout standing in the doorway. He was clearly unprepared to find Spy in here, willingly talking to you much less.

“What's uh, going on here?”

"Nous pouvons dire qui est le meilleur enfant."

It took you a minute to realize what he was saying, and with a smug look from him it clicked. Sending you into a full blown laughter, while Scout was confused.

“What’s wrong with you two?”

***

"What did I say about watching your back?"

"You always have to be on your guard..."

"We can tell who the best child is."

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

Hmhmhm very Self indulgent but engie and trans male reader smut. Reader fully recovered from bottom surgery and Engies giving them a lot of attention.

WOAH ANON YOU AND I ARE KINDRED SPIRITS

Tw: teasing, blowjob (tm receiving), anal, bottom I'm. Pet names

The heat of New Mexico was unbearable; the arid dryness of the area stung the prying eyes of passengers. No more so than you. You flippantly looked at your watch, counting the minuets as you stood in the dining room waiting. Days like this would have any man regretting their suit immediately, the starched collar of the white dress suit chafing the skin of your neck. Sweat built up as both anxiety and the heat got to you. You wondered if Dell would even come up here, no doubt he was hungry. You wanted him to see what you’d gotten him. Though with your luck you’d be met with 8 hungry mercenaries and a man hell bent on invention.

Your timer went off and you stood at attention. This marked the beginning of a week in heaven… or a vacation with your husband.

Two mercs aside from Dell knew of your relationship. Medic, and Scout.

You watched as the former walked into the room with an eager look on his face. He smiled and leaned against the entryway, a smug look clung to his features.

“Every time I look at you I’m reminded that I haven’t lost my touch!” He chirped, skipping in a manner that nearly gave him flight. You offered your hand to shake. The doctor caught it and instead held it above you, turning you around and back before clapping excitedly.

“You did lose your license though doctor, don't you remember?”

“Tit for tat boy, I see all is good. I was expecting some complications, but this is Wunderbar! With so little prior knowledge of these types of surgeries I never would have thought it’d go so well. At least-“ as he was moving around he turned his head back to you. You took the time to interject.

“Doctor, I’m afraid there’s no pus.”

His face fell, and brightened again as he piped for another.

“Nor are there blockages or swelling.” You opened your arms, chest heaved with pride in your appearance. “Im a changed man doc. And it’s largely in part to you.” You ignored the pout the man had at your lack of injury, and instead complimented his work. You knew well the doctors morals weren’t bound by any government. But you were damn grateful he stuck to some morals of medicine. He straightened again and sat down across you.

“You we’re a man without me! All you really needed was a-“ The man was cut off by the overlapping shouts of several other men.

“Yeah but Heavy was in the way! The hell was I supposed to do? Run through his legs, do a little dance around him?”

“You could’ve made it easier for me to get a clear shot. I signaled several times for you to move.”

“Well Sniper, you’re supposed to be able to uh- I dunno- AIM.”

You sent a knowing look at medic who rolled his eyes fondly at the bickering. No man coming through the door acknowledged you but Misha who sent you a smile.

“Hello Misha.” You said calmly as he walked to you, you opened your arms for a hug. One he gave to you in earnest. Nearly lifting you as he did. “You have not been here in long time.” He stated, almost concerned.

You shrugged, sitting in the chair behind you. “Haven’t quite gotten the chance. I’ve been down in Texas, writing for the journals. When you have the chance you ought to visit me. It gets incredibly.” You looked up right as Dell entered. Locking eyes, presumably, with his own.

“Lonely.”

He rocked on his feet, before kicking away an imaginary rock. You felt a fond smile appear on your face as he came closer. He walked to you as Heavy and Medic left. “Ain’t ya gonna make the effort?”

“I don’t get a kiss first?” He asked, a silly grin of anticipation welling on his face. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your leg like a mob boss and tilting your head to either side.

“Eh, I dunno if I can make that arrangement for Ya bud. You see-” you stood, crooking a finger under his collar and pulling him close. “You left me really, really lonely. So-“ you let him go, turning only to leave the table and adjust your suit to the other side. “I think you're gonna have to try just a tad harder.”

The man was aghast. He hadn't seen such a demanding side of you in a long time. He himself leaned against the table, weighing his options. “Mm. Sugar I think Id like my kiss first.” You grinned, walking over before bending at the waist and locking eyes with him.

“Earn it.”

He let out a shuddery breath before taking you into his arms and, out the door before anyone could see you. The rest of the mercs would be upstairs for a while, which meant the two of you had plenty of time. As he tripped down the hall with you his thoughts ran wild.

“You poor poor man, why hadn't you come down sooner?” Your look of playful contemplation told everything. “Oh dear! It's almost as if we both have jobs that the other one can't contribute to. Who knew?” Your sarcasm sent warm buzzes through your husband. A giddy smile crawled back up his cheeks. As he neared their quarters he fished his keys out, setting you down before fiddling with them.

“I've got a lot.”

“It's the red one honey.”

“The what?” you pointed at his keyring, but through his fiddling he didn't notice. “The red one love,” you reached out to grab it. As your fingers touched his you shared a soft look. He grabbed the key gingerly before shoving it into his keyhole.

“Imma treat you real nice tonight.”

“Aw yeah?” You asked, voice edging lower as you entered his room and removed your overcoat. “How are you gonna treat me big guy?” He bit his lip, unbuckling his overalls while advancing. “Cant give it all away.” He whispered as he leaned in for a kiss. You tilted your head away, earning an offended gasp from your spouse.

“Such a cold husband, be still my heart!” He moaned dramatically, leaning limp against his desk. You took the chance to throw your coat over him before walking back. “Don’t be a baby Dell, I’m just going to the-“ before you could finished you were tackled down for the bed by your brute of a husband. “You asshole!” You snorted out as he sat above you, his head pressed against your sternum.

You picked his head up and stared at his goggles, sneering slightly when he don’t take them off. “Generally humans make eye contact when we have sex Dell.” He hummed as if lost in thought. “Do they now. I figured they just turned over like this~” In a swift motion he flipped you over on all fours, pushing your shoulders down with it. He then leaned in close, the gravel in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“And went on their merry way.”

You moaned softly as he placed a small kiss on your neck, his warm lips providing a sense of security. His hand rubbed circles under your shirt, pressing into tender areas. “Dell.” He hummed, noticing the undertone to it.

“You actually gonna do something or are you gonna make me wait?” He scoffed playfully and continued placing kisses around your back.

“Damn man, not lettin’ me have a moment are ya?” He bit back, humored at your impatience. You pushed your hips back, damn sure you made contact with his growing boner. You smirked back at him, playful response growing.

“Boy don’t you dare.”

“Erecting a dispenser back there Conagher?” You snickered before he pushed himself up from you: you heard him chuckling uncontrollably into his palms. Which allowed you to right yourself. From his neck to the top of his head he was a cherry red. You laughed right along with him. He covered his face with one hand and used the other to push you over.

Both of you were on separate planes of existence. Like two hyenas basking in bliss with one another, he eyed you with a glare. One which held no malice but all the misheif it could. “I will get you back for that!”

“For what?!” You exclaimed belligerently, “being funny?” You crawled over to him, doing your best to swing your aging hips over his lap. You steadied yourself with your hands on his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his own. He presumably looked into your eyes, and you took this opportunity to yank them off and throw them to the side. As you savored the look of playful shock you took his face in your hands, biting down on your own lip.

“Aww honey you ain’t got to get my attention like that.” He placed a large hand on the small of your back, large fingers feeling their way back up your side. You considered his statement with a buzz, rubbing the top of his head with your thumb. “I wanted a better look at those handsome brown eyes.”

He looked taken aback, then as a blush crept on his face he blew out. You snorted at the display.

“Let's cut out all this mess, ain't got too much time before the boys wonder where I'm at.”

“You just can't take a compliment egg head,” you remarked, pulling him by the strap of his overalls. “How bout you put that hand to good use?”

He smiled wickedly at the thought, his own body moving forward, caging you under him. He let his gloved hand slide up your shirt, unbuttoning it as he went. His eyes bore into yours, keeping you still as he went along.

“You're quite obedient when I've got you facing me like this. Ain't that a bit odd?” he teased, you shrugged.

“Only natural I assume. Wouldn’t want to give you too much trouble.”

He stopped his action to face you. Brows scrunched in confusion as he did so. With nary a word he removed your shirt, continuing once more. His impatience was clear in his actions, hands moving to grasp at the warm flesh under.

You moned deep at the sensation, so starved of the dull, expanse of his hands. You almost forgot how course and heavy his non metal hand was, gunslingers own, pointer form, covers by rubber. You placed a hand over his, moving it instantly.

He watched in quiet understanding, moving to adjust himself rightly. As your hand reached a stop his continued. He brushed along your stomach. Leaving a trail of kisses down. He never once broke eye contact.

As he grasped at the hem of your pants he smiled. His earnest look sent a surge of familiarity through you. You nodded, taking his arm in your own hand. “I’m good Dell. You can keep goin.”

“You sure? I wouldn’t want to overstep. ‘Ts been a while ‘n all.” You pat his forcep.

“I have been waiting for almost a year Dell Conhager. If you keep me waitin I’m filing for divorce.” He scoffed at the joke before shoving your pants, and briefs down in tandem.

He crawled over you, strong thighs caging you under him. His arm steadied by your head.

“You couldn’t leave me if you wanted to boy. I wouldn’t try.” You just winked before reaching up and letting his straps fall to his side. Taking the hint, he moved a leg to the inside of your own. Allowing you to grind against him as he undressed.

To say it was painful, seemed like an understatement to you. As you tried to get friction you could only feel the temperature around your tip. You whined in need at your husband.

“Give me just a second now love bug. These are harder to get out of than you’d think.” You nodded. And as he stripped you attempted your palms own sneaky decent past his line of sight.

It didn’t go unnoticed. As you were about to take your member in your hand Dell stopped you. Shirt off and overalls bunched around his waist.

“And what are you doin sir?” He laughs as he grabbed at your hand and pulled it to your face.

“I ain’t enough for you?” It was your turn to scoff, but this scoff was out of need. You pulled the bedsheets into your fist as you growled in need.

“Dell! Don’t tease me, cmon!” You looked up at the man who seemed to need more of an explanation. “Dell honey, you know it's hard for me to get off on grinding alone. Could you please, please give me a hand?”

He grinned stupidly, bringing your knees around his waist, he brought his face to your dick. With one hand he held your side and with the other he stabilized you.

He closed his eyes and he licked up your shaft. You felt the most sensation at the base, where you could feel phantom sutures at the site of surgery. You groaned and held the back of his head there. Eyes half lidded, pleasure bringing a haze to your eyes.

And he continued. No words, only quiet groans that were absorbed by your member. He kissed along it for a while, making his way up to the head in time. And then he took it in.

Your legs tensed, eyes fluttering closed as he was able to get around three inches down. He increased his speed, not pleased with the languid pace the session was proceeding at. His own eyes were closed. Focused on sensation.

You groaned into your arm. Biting down on a fleshy bit to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than to pull your arm away at that moment. Would his base really judge him for pleasing his husband?

Well.

Some might.

He decided not to chance it, instead using spit that pooled from his actions to trace around the rim of your ass.

You gasped as a finger slipped in suddenly. You hadn’t felt this penetration in a while. You arched back against your will. Your body forgetting how much it loved the sensation. You gasped loudly. Panting at Engie to move them faster. To which he obliged.

He popped off of your member loudly, smiling with satisfaction as he stared at your wrecked state.

The man who came in so dapper before was trembling on his fingers. Sweaty and almost to the point of orgasm. Engie bent his posture over to the best of his ability. Back cracking a bit in the process.

His chest fell flush with yours, the skin on you both heating to such a degree it felt like you could melt into each other.

“You’d always been so handsome to me you know that? Always so so damn handsome.” You moaned, his fingers pushing up against your thick walls as he once again pushed through your hole.

“You’re so good, comin over here. Callin me, makin me smile. I wish-“ he said remorsefully. “I wish I could take a normal job for you.”

You gasped in accordance, attempting to pay attention as his hand sped once again. Without looking you could tell it was his gunslinger, you admired the instrument before but praised the damn thing now.

As you grew less responsive Dell could tell you were close. He offered a trail of kisses up your neck. Watching your semi lucid smile scrunch up. His free hand went back to your member, pulling firmly.

You scratched at his back from the action. Allowing your hips to guide his hand as you awaited your climax.

Dell whispered coercions into your ear, like a private prayer.

“Cum for me honey. I know you got it in you. Just give it to me okay?” You gasped for air you were already getting, feeling like all the breath was being used on something bedsides breathing. You nodded, whimpering pathetic noises as he grew sloppier in his own hand gestures.

“You’re gonna go soon ain’t you? We’ll go ahead. Do it, you’re so good just do it now okay?” With one more thrust of his fingers he sent you over.

But he knew better than to stop.

He slowed his movements, waiting until a little after you stopped twitching. He watched your chest rise and fall before removing his hand and laying beside you.

“I can get you cleaned up after this love.” He said, pulling you close as he could, and as he felt exhaustion course through his body he smiled. Kissing your forehead as you drifted off.

“Or we can wait till tomorrow.”

[prettyboypistol]

How mercs would react after having a wet dream

TF2 Mercs' Wet Dreams! ||TF2 x M!Reader|| +18 obviously

Scout

He imagines you shirtless and on his bed all cheesy porno style, you coax him over and pull him to the bed, kissing over his chest and murmuring about just how badly you need him.

He loves dreaming about you riding him and sucking him off, especially when you suffocate him in your chest and hold him close.

He has a recurring dream of you breathing heavily, panting out "Scout, Scout! Scout!" as you jerk yourself off as you ride.

Cums in his sleep and jerks off in the morning, sneaking away to wash the sheets early that morning.

Soldier

Solly is inspecting your dress code and orders you to attention for the formal inspection.

"Private! Will you do anything for your country?" "Sir, Yessir!" "No matter the cost, will you defend this base?!" "Sir, Yessir!" His voice a little quieter, yet slightly commanding as he leans into you. "Then show your major just how much you need his lead."

God, he loves imagining you in formal military dress as you kneel before him, praising his battle tactics and mouth full of dick.

Doesn't cum in his sleep, but it's a 70-30 shot that he'll grunt your name into his pillow as he ruts against his mattress.

Pyro

They imagine you as an angel, dawned in gloarious robes and with a halo and wings. Pyro isn't worthy- not a monster like them that can barely stay sane- yet you invite them forward and kiss their mask's forehead as you hike up your robe to expose yourself. "It's alright darling, you can touch me."

Secretly, Pyro wants to deflower you. They know you're probably not a virgin, but the idea of spoiling your virginity is so hot to them. The first one to touch your body, the first one to ruin you.

Pyro kneels and nuzzles your thighs in reverence as they touch you the way they desire. Their touches leave purple-black marks wherever they touch, actually staining you with sin. They feel so guilty about ruining an angel like you, but you're allowing them to!

Pyro does cum in their sleep, whimpering and writhing against their suit.

Demoman

Tavish's wet dreams start out like normal dreams- in a bar, drinking his heart out back in Scotland with his friends. Then he sees you from across the room. You give him a look that invites him over as you bite your bottom lip.

"Hey there sexy, you look like you could use some company." You flirt, petting Demoman's bicep. Tavish laughs and escorts you to the back of the bar, magically turned into a nicer bedroom as he lays you down.

It's a bit of a haze, but Tavish remembers thrusting into you and imagining how tight you mush be, he dreams about fingering you open with the hilt of eyelander if he's feeling a little fantasy-based rather than in the year of the lord 1971.

Sometimes he dreams of you fucking him, and those are the dreams that wake him up to stained sheets.

Heavy

In the cold russian nights, you knock on the door asking for a place to stay. Mikhail ushers you in and offers you a warm bath, which you graciously accept. Little do you know that there is a little hole in the wooden walls, where Heavy keeps an eye on you.

Mikhail touches himself to the sight of your naked back, as you seen to have the same idea in the bath, reveling in the now warm touches of your hands against your skin.

He hears you moan out his name as you masturbate, and that only fuels his fire more. He usually climaxes to a particularly loud and desperate begging from your lips.

Wakes up with a raging boner that he mostly will ignore, but will rarely take care of himself to the thought of you.

Engineer

You're kidnapped, tied up by the enemy- but you're naked and begging for someone to touch you! Engie is there to rescue you, but you look so handsome all vulnerable like that- you understand, don't you, darlin'?

Dell fucks you as you're tied up in the chair and mutters dirty things that make his sleeping body blush as he promises to fuck you in every way he can as he fucks you like a desperate man.

The feeling of your tightening around him and begging to let you cum, please don't call him daddy, he'll stain his sheets!

Is massively ashamed to touch himself when he's awake to thr thought of his coworker

Medic

You. On his operating table. Bound by the belts and struggling to escape as your dick is hard and tied with a little bow at the base. "To Medic" the gift tag says. Wouldn't it be rude to not use a gift?

He imagines you drunk on lust as he injects both you and himself with an aphrodesiac. Hazily, you two fuck on base instincts for hours as he shoves his cock deep into you over and over again, orgasm after orgasm until he was thoroughly used.

But you break your restraints, pin him against the table and fuck him from behind. It's your turn to use him like the cocksleeve he knows he is. Use him like a fleshlight, just as rough as you always imagine!

Doesn't cum in his sleep but jerks off into a test tube for research purposes later.

Spy

You and Spy are making out in his smoking room before you lay him down onto the couch, unbuttoning his suit and kissing all the skin you can reach as you undress him.

You finger him lazily with one hand, pouring him a glass of wine with the other. The glass is left on the side table as you suck hickeys into his thighs before you thrust into him.

It starts off slow- as it always does, you're always gentle at first- then you pick up the pace, drilling into him with reckless abandon as you chase your pleasure.

Spy sleepily jerks himself off from over his pyjama pants, more asleep than awake as he dreams of you absolutely wrecking him.

Sniper

He imagines you fucking yourself with your fingers in his Sniper Nest, holding his shirt close to you. You fuck yourself stupid as you moan out "Mundy, oh god, Mick- please fuck me!"

Mick loves watching, just like the creep he is. He loves the shame of watching someone through a sniper scope, even if he's not watching intimate moments like that. During missions, he likes to rub one out as he watches people do mundane things.

He fucks his fist in his sleep to the sight of you seducing him- the idea of you wanting him just as much as he wants you drives him insane.

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

I understand and yes you may call me such a nickname.

Anyway hybrids charles max and oscar being completely smitten with komodo dragon!reader (has the eyes and claws) who's 6'7 and as muscular as a bodybuilder while being race? Engineer at merc, like they don't see him often but they know he's a gentleman from the prize ceremony they've attended (charles and max more then oscar) and for 2025 they just see kimi A. start blushing when ever your in the vicinity and are rightly jealous whenever kimi wins and reader carries him like he weighs nothing. (kimi doesn't like reader like that emotionally, he finds him very sexually attractive but thats it nothing happens as theres a pretty big age gap as reader is in his late 20)

Don't know if this makes up for almost pushing past your boundaries, i hope it does, again i'm really sorry for that.

–🍑

no worries peaches! i don't accept requests for max but poly!charles/oscar is brilliant. i love it. i adore it. it's in my holy trinity of poly pairings with bearnelli and loscar. you didn't specify what kind of hybrids so i'm writing this as bunny!charles + cat!oscar.

first of all 6'7" komodo dragon!race engineer!reader?? chef's kiss

you probably stay in the garage or on the pit wall most of the time

maybe you were lewis's engineer (sorry bono) and so when kimi joins mercedes you become his engineer

you'd met charles a few times at the fia prize giving ceremonies when you went with lewis, and you saw/met oscar at the '23 and '24 events

charles probably falls for you slowly over the years, but oscar falls hard and fast

they got a lot closer in the 2024 season and started pining over you together

2025 is problematic for them because kimi has a little puppy crush on you

like he knows you're way too old for him so he doesn't want anything to come of it

but. objectively, you're hot and tall and could totally throw him around like a ragdoll

and you do

when kimi gets his first podium, you're the first person on the team he sees and you just so easily hoist him onto one of your shoulders and parade him around like he's a prince

oscar and charles are so jealous

they wait until the other mercedes people are distracted before they gang up on you and drag you into one of their driver's rooms

whoever's is closest, probably

charles' bunny ears are fully floppy from how nervous he is and his lil nose is twitching

so black cat!oscar does most of the talking

he's blunt and there's more than a hint of possessiveness but he gets the point across

bunny cries when you fill him up

[5eraphim]

I have a request for a short little one✨ But only if you have the time and want to👍

So darling is like this smart, classy, intelligent woman spy meets and gets obsessed with and makes plans to manipulate her. But she ofcourse catches on and the next day she's gone, so spy has to hunt her down. When he does find her he has a completly new apperance due to his discuises and reader is genuinly interested in him. So one night they drink or something and darling gets drugs sliped in her drink so spy gets to fuck her un-discuised and she gets to have high, amazing sex with the person she dispises the most without even realizing it. Darling doesen't really know she's practicly been raped or find out it this man was spy all along! Yay!

Men will truly display some of the lowest depravity imaginable and then grab a shovel. (<- support class behavior)

Title: Unspoken Alliances

Character: Spy 🐍 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, dubcon/deception, toxic relationship, drugging/forced intoxication (MDMA, ecstasy and alcohol), sensory deprivation, restraints, AFAB reader, mind games, revenge sex, marking/biting, teasing

Word Count: 7.2k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"Love goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2 Scene 3, Shakespeare

"Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eye are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye." Plato's Republic Book VII

"So beautiful. What a tragedy you can't see it for yourself." His voice was low and breathy, almost purring. Close enough to feel his breath against your cheek as he stretched out beside you, but from your position, blindfolded and restrained by ropes laying on your back, just out of reach from the man in bed. 

Ever since you shared a cocktail with the mercenary you believed to be Medic earlier that evening, you felt something special spark between you both. The moment that last sip of alcohol passed your lips, something awakened, aroused, and unrestrained by former inhibitions; in a matter of a few hours, the two of you wound up in the same bed. A touching act of intimacy overshadowed by two factors unknown to you. Firstly, it wasn't just alcohol you consumed, and second, the one who gave you that drink wasn't Medic.

Blindfolded, your hands were bound over your head with a soft, stiff black rope, the same rope which wound around both your ankles, pinning them down flat and securing them to the bottom bed legs. Keeping them fully extended and spread, you didn't need the ropes to comply, but he insisted. Annoyingly, you were still clothed, incredibly turned on, and unable to do anything to solve that problem yourself, forced to wait with agonizing anticipation for your partner to make the next move.

But that was your own problem, as the man was in no rush now that the hard part of the evening was over. After a rough start, Spy lured you back to his place to spend the evening with him, of your own free will- with just a bit of incentivizing from him. Exactly how he wanted you.

Spy tried to play fair at first, planning to court you civilly. Far be it from him to fall fast for a stranger, but it had been too long since he shared his bed with a woman, making Spy act a bit impulsively, almost desperately. However, even with sex on his mind, Spy didn't want to come off too imposing too soon. Better to appear mysterious, magnanimous, and charming to attract you closer rather than risk scaring you away by making his real intentions known. 

He thought he was playing all his cards right. He'd been in this situation before more times than he bothered to remember. Spy invited you to an innocent cup of coffee with him during your lunch break to discuss work, his treat, of course. But despite Spy's best efforts to play things safe, after waiting fifteen minutes past the agreed time at the cafe, he understood with grim bitterness that you stood him up. 

It hurt to be blown off like that, but Spy refused to allow this to be the end of it. He returned to work later and discovered you left hours before. He heard you complained about some kind of illness, but Spy knew you were likely just trying to avoid him or any confrontation. Fortunately, Spy was tipped off that you were planning on heading to another coffee house on the other end of town to finish your work, the kind open late into the night and was accustomed to customers occupying space for hours while chain-drinking caffeinated beverages.

It was naive to assume you could just run off to some cafe for a few hours while hiding from him. 

It was all too easy for Spy to find you under the disguise of another, offer you a spiked drink, and watch you fall into his arms. Spy spared no precaution. Even with the MDMA pumping through your system, scrambling your sensory information and reasoning, he was too close now to risk you waking up. You were so needy and cute when you were drugged out of your mind. It made bringing you home and back to bed with him so easy. Letting him walk you upstairs to his bedroom while hanging off his arm, giggling, wearing the intoxication on your sleeve. If he wanted, Spy bet he could push you up against the wall and take you in the hallway, and you'd let him; you'd love him for it. But he had better things in mind for tonight.

During the drive home, Spy shed his disguise, carefully ensuring he had the cover of the darkness on his side before doing so, but when he checked on you using his peripheral vision, you were too out of it to notice a thing. Quiet jazz hummed through the static-softened radio, the scrape of windshield wipers against soft rain, and the quiet ambient sounds of traffic, all softening and melting together in your mind, making you feel like you were in a cozy dream.

If you were beautiful when Spy first met you, where you were focused, headstrong, and in "work mode," seeing you all tuckered out and woozy sprawled out in his passenger seat made you all the more desirable. So innocent and at peace, at this point in your drug-induced haze, you were beginning to detach from reality, your mind unraveling as a pleasurable brain fog began to roll in. But it was only a matter of time before the alcohol and MDMA really hit your system and, subsequently, your libido.

In a haze, you were brought from the front door to the one in his bedroom. To his surprise, you were somehow aware you were in his bedroom, and using a wall to support yourself, managed to peel away from Spy enough to wobble your way over to the bed, not bothering to turn on a bedroom light to find the bed. He felt a throb, watching the smile on your face as you sat on the edge before going boneless as your limp shoulders and spine made contact with the luxurious sheets. Conflicted, Spy wondered if you were so desperate to get into bed because of drowsiness or lust, but judging by the kisses shared before the ride over, Spy refused to believe you wanted this any less than he did.

Using his own body to support yours, and his shoulder to rest your head on, Spy lead you inside. It was a miracle he didn't accidentally uncloak himself before getting you home. You were so trusting to accept his drink and even allow him to goad you into drinking it so fast. Ever the sadist, Spy felt quite a stir watching you begin to nod off. Rubbing in the cruelty a little harder by skimming over the top secret documents you were working on before he showed up, the ones you were in charge of protecting, knowing he could use this as blackmail later. 

As you slid into a comfortable spot in the center of the bed, making sure to slip off your shoes before entering, lying comfortably on your back, taking a moment to appreciate having somewhere so comfortable to stretch out. A sound halfway between a yawn and a sigh passed your lips as you lethargically made yourself comfortable. The bottom hem of your top just barely pulled upward as you stretched out, exposing the skin beneath to the comfortably chill bedroom air. Without thinking, you were about to pull your shirt off from over your head when Spy spoke from a few paces to your side. He stalked closer to the bed, his hands finding yours, thin fingers firmly wrapped around your hands, keeping them still. If you were clear-headed, you would've instantly detected how small the hands holding your own were, far smaller than Medic's ought to have been.

But logic and suspicion didn't matter now. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your entire body felt like an overextended tendon, full of anticipation just seconds away from snapping. 

The excitement made you giddy. And childishly, you tried to fidget your hands out from his grasp while he kept you pinned in place without budging. 

"C'mon- it's too hot in here, I wanna take everything off." The voice you heard hardly sounded like your own, so slurred and pouty.

In a far more measured voice, Spy responded, "Whining will get you nowhere. You're in my house now. You follow my rules here."

He sounded so cold and detached that you couldn't help but mope, trying to focus your gaze up at the smear of non-descript shadow where his face ought to be.

Spy felt a twinge of regret for being so harsh, "I promised I'd bring you here for a good time, didn't I? Be patient, and I will make it worth your time."

From your spot in bed, you stared up at Spy with wide, unfocused eyes and nodded once. Crouching down much closer to the bed, Spy's face was close enough now that you could feel his breath as it fanned against your own face. "Allow me to be the one to undress you tonight."

It wasn't a request. It was a definitive statement. Your eyes drift shut, as the mere thought of him undressing you made you throb. You wanted it so damn bad, but the best you could do to communicate such a want was a timid little nod and a vague noise of understanding. 

"Tonight, we're doing this my way. Now lay nice and still for me." Without Warning, you felt his hand make contact with the side of your face, holding something soft and sleek in his hands.

Spy, holding a long, thin cloth with both hands, made an effort to secure the fabric over your eyes, but for just a moment, the trance was broken as you pulled away a bit confused and slurring, "Blindfold?" You tried to focus on the mass of shadows where his face was, trying to formulate a complete sentence was too hard, but you hoped he understood what you meant and would explain himself. 

Rather than an explanation, Spy remained absolutely still but responded in a voice far less soft than before, practically growling, "As I said before, you're in my bed now. Now lay back and obey. I will not warn you again."

Without another word, you clenched your jaw shut and held your head as still as possible while he worked swiftly. Spy pulled away to sit upright in bed, "Give me your wrist." he ordered.

You knew better than to question him again and compiled without a word. Feeling a sick thrill for being ordered around like this. If you were sober, you might find such unquestioning obedience shameful, but if logic was already forgotten, shame followed soon after. You couldn't be bothered. It felt too good to allow someone else to take control after so much stress at work. There was no need to think; your body knew how to respond to his touch, obey commands, and submit.

It wasn't long until Spy managed to restrain both wrists together at the headboard and ankles to the bottom corners of the bed before you felt the bed dip beside you as he returned to his seat beside you. 

Blindfolded and spread, you were a vision he'd never forget, even while fully clothed. And he couldn't help but smile as he crawled into place on all fours about you, hearing your breath deepen and how you couldn't stop fidgeting beneath him, feeling too hot under the layers of fabric that separated your body from his.

The feeling of his body so close to where you needed him the most, you tried to buck your hips upward where you thought he would be, only to come up too short below to get any friction, unaware of the pathetic little sounds you made tring to get any kind of stimulation from the man in bed.

Spy whispered, his voice dripping with faux sympathy, "Poor thing, you're looking so flustered. Is something wrong?"

You nodded and tried to speak but couldn't get any actual words out to urge him on. Spy snickered to himself as he rebalanced his weight onto one arm while he used his other to skim his hand over your shirt, just above your belly, stopping over your belt buckle as you stiffened up, expecting him to undo it for you, but he kept his hand irritatingly still, making you shutter almost panting, under the strain of forcing the muscles in your core to keep from grinding against his hand.

"I'll undo the belt for you, but only if you ask properly." The smug bastard.

Not a full second later you murmured out a needy "C'mon, please! Please just do it already!" To which Spy responded by pulling his hand further away, much to your frustration.

"You can do better than that. You're a smart woman. Use your words." He sounded almost bored, but you could feel him smirking down at you without needing to see his face. If there was one thing you could count on from men of the support classes, it was ceaseless sadism. You should've known he was going to draw this out.

"Please, please undo my belt, I'm too hot- F-feels like I'm dying down here!" It was hard to speak due to the vague numbness of the face and how your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth. You knew the words were garbled; you wouldn't be surprised if you were drooling and your voice hardly coherent over the sound of your own labored breathing, but worse of all, he still didn't seem convinced.

"Hm. Not bad. But you're rather amusing when you're begging for me. Too amusing for your own good. Perhaps I should keep you here a little longer."

You were ready to sob from the frustration of it all. "C'monn, it's not fair, I wanna touch you too! I wanna feel your body with mine- I wanna make you feel good too!" 

Apparently, you said exactly what he wanted to hear as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering, "You already are."

Shifting back to sit on his knees, Spy could now use both hands to take off your belt before pulling the zipper down. You sigh with relief at the cool air against the exposed and overheated skin. 

For a moment, you were able to take a deep breath to enjoy this before saying, "Please, take the rest off- you're killing me down here!"

Spy wasn't done yet. Rising from the mattress, he walked to the side of the bed, cupping your cheek, making you nuzzle against the stiff leather glove; you'd never felt so starved for the contact of another. Using his free hand to draw his knife, kissing the side of your face with the flat of the blade. The cold steel against your cheek made you shiver, "You want your clothes off so bad; you don't mind if I use this little thing, do you?. You aren't afraid, are you?"

If he had any lingering reservations, you would break out of your ecstasy-fueled trance; they were entirely gone. Not even with his signature butterfly knife pressed directly against your face did you realize who you were dealing with. 

The slight sting of the knife felt like heaven, and you sighed, knowing relief was so close you could taste it. "Cut them off, I don't need them anymore- just you. You're everything I need." Aside from the spike in libido, your emotions were significantly heightened, and you could feel your heart swell as the words left your mouth, and you felt in that moment, you truly loved the man beside you- whoever the hell he was anyway.

Spy too felt distracted for just a moment at the sincerity in your voice. He expected you'd gone entirely cum-brained by now and didn't expect you to say something surprisingly touching. Starting at the bottom of your pants, he pinched the fabric taught with one hand and used the other to start cutting with the knife with surgeon-like precision, then making likewise work to your shirt, leaving you almost entirely bare. Thankfully, he knew what he was doing because you refused to make this easy for him, constantly wriggling in place, distracting him by sighing as the clothes were practically peeled away.  

Feeling a few layers of clothing peeled away felt like a massive weight off your chest. It wasn't long before you were left in nothing but undergarments, which were promptly cut away like the rest of your clothes. 

You hardly realized the fabric was gone or that Spy was back between your legs until you felt an ungloved hand tracing up your inner thigh lightly, taking his sweet time before his hand eventually found your sex. Spy applied almost no pressure to his fingers, but the contact alone made you go giddy, unable to stop squirming as Spy's fingers began to move slowly and without much pressure.

Feeling the slick coating his fingertips as his eyes drifted shut, he grinned with satisfaction, feeling how fast you were coming undone. Allow his fingers to move on their own, and his thumb placed firmly against the skin over your clit. You tried to buck upwards and angle your hips to feel his thumb where you needed it, but he knew exactly what he was doing and didn't budge until you settled down. You knew without having to say anything or even look at him to understand the message he was trying to send you, be good, and he'll give you what you want, but not until he's ready. In other words, "Sit, stay, and beg."

Using his other hand, still gloved, he pushed your thighs open a bit wider, massaging the soft, sensitive flesh of your upper thigh. With his help keeping your thighs spread and pressed down against the mattress, you found it much easier to remain stable, keeping your motion limited to your back arching up from the bed, your knees buckling with such tension, you swore you could feel the nervous tremors making your legs shake and head pull back and forth in rhythm with your heavy, labored breathing. Spy was pleased to see how well you managed to hold steady, content enough to use two fingers to stroke up against your slit, just hard enough for his fingertips to slip in before slipping back out as he traced upwards. Gaging your reaction, he dropped his thumb to connect with your clit as he slipped a finger inside, watching you jolt a little in surprise. 

Spy didn't need to move too long to find where he was looking for, his single finger curling up, feeling every inch of warm, slick softness he could while you struggled to stay still. Spy could feel your struggle, and with a tone of slight mockery, Spy hummed, "It's alright if you want to grind against me since you've been so good at being docile. I'll give you permission."

It was perfect timing, too; as he slid a second finger in, you felt yourself tense up, your own body overjoyed at the stimulation, before you began to roll your hips in rhythm with his hand as his fingers curled inside, trying to find that spot he found earlier. Before long, you were trying to choke back a moan- slightly nervous Spy would decide to punish you if you got too loud while he pumped his fingers inside. You tried your hardest to keep up with his pace, but as he moved faster and harder inside, you were too tense to move much on your own and let him play with your body as he wanted. All of the tension and heat building at your core felt like it was getting too much to handle, you could feel the oncoming climax, and you were ready for it.

Spy planned on making you wait longer for your first orgasm of the night, but now that he was here sitting in the moment, he felt almost as excited as you were to let it happen. And with one more roll of his thumb, timed perfectly with the fingers inside, it happened.

Despite the heavy restraints, you felt like you were flying. When you felt yourself coming against Spy's hand, your mind was lost in a drug and pleasure-induced euphoria that made you whimper and groan as you rode out the high as long as you could. You could hear Spy saying something but couldn't really understand. You weren't entirely back to your senses, but when he swiped his thumb against your forehead to wipe some of the sweat away before planting a loving kiss, you beamed, knowing whatever he was saying, it must've been good! 

After such an intense experience, you clenched and unclenched your hands into fists, curling your toes, trying to gently work the feeling back into them. The past few hours were a blur, the past few days were painful, but now nothing mattered to you but this moment. As you stewed a bit longer in a soothing afterglow, comfortably recalling the events of the evening before, which brought you here.

You should've finished your work before heading out for the night. But when your intuition told you to avoid men, you found it best not to question it. Spy wasn't the type to offer anyone kindness without wanting something in return, and you had a bad feeling about exactly what he wanted. You hardly knew Spy but weren't surprised to learn he was the type to think a few charismatic advances entitled him to easy access to you whenever he pleased. And as soon as you got the chance, you packed up your work for the day and left base. The distance from base gave you the comfort to believe you'd escaped Spy for the evening, but for someone like Spy, who made a living of hiding and stalking, you could only do so much to remain undetected, and if he wanted to find you, there wasn't much you could do to protect yourself. It was hard to keep from watching the other patrons of the coffeehouse closely, and you couldn't help looking over your shoulder, expecting to see someone else watching you. But no one was there waiting, and hardly anyone noticed your staring. You were beginning to think you wouldn't feel safe again until you were back in your own bed.

It was mid-afternoon when you arrived at the small, decently secluded cafe lounge to get work done. Still, you were so distracted thinking about Spy, and the general noise and bustle of a public location kept you from much productivity. By now, the sun already set, the work day technically ended hours ago, and you had little to show for it, and your frustration only made it harder to focus. 

Your eyes wandered from your screen to the empty mug beside you, and you considered if another drink would inspire some more progress or at least justify occupying your space in the cafe for so long. Before you could decide your next move, a hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality. 

"Good evening!" You stiffened visibly upright in your seat at the sound of someone close behind speaking, gently squeezing your shoulder to get your attention. Your head whipped over your shoulder to see Medic, chipper as ever, standing less than a breath away behind you, still in his work attire, though thankfully clean of any bloodstains or crusted bits of entrails or bone that might've clung to him during combat.

"Hey, Medic, I didn't see you there!"

He grinned, "Did I frighten you?"

Relaxing at the sight of a friendly face, you mirrored his grin, "Not at all, old man." 

Without waiting for an invitation, Medic turned to the largely blank Word doc on your screen and the pile of documents beside the laptop, "Still at work?"

You weren't supposed to let any of the mercenaries get a peek at confidential documents, but if you were honest, there was almost no information for him to steal. Shutting the laptop, you gathered the papers, organizing them back into their folder while he watched. 

"I was on my way out, actually. Though a change of scenery would make me more productive, I think I better call it a night." You realized it seemed rude to pack up as soon as he showed up, but you were far from home, and if you wanted to catch the bus back to town, you needed to head out. 

"Leaving so soon?" Medic questioned.

You picked up your dirty mug, keeping your eyes on it as you drummed your fingers against the ceramic, "Sorry, I wanted to make it home before dark. I really should head before it gets too late."

He nodded, "You came pretty far out of your way to get a little work done. Is something troubling you?"

Your first instinct was to play it off as nothing, to lie and give some lame excuse about always wanting to visit this longue, but why bother? Odds were, if you couldn't focus here, rushing home wouldn't do your productivity any favors. Checking the time, you confirmed it wasn't all that late and decided to go ahead and tell him the truth.

Sitting back in your seat, you set the mug back onto the table, staring out the window at the streetlights piercing the winter night fog. "It was another mercenary on your team. He was acting weird, and I didn't want to run into him again today, so I came here."

Not a full second later, Medic replied, "It was Scout, wasn't it."

You smiled, "Surprisingly, no." 

He looked at you expectantly. Despite the nearly empty coffee house, you quickly scanned to see if anyone was listening in on this conversation, which obviously none were, before replying in a quieter voice, "It was Spy. I can't explain it, but he was being so nice to me. I don't trust that, not from him anyway." 

Medic nodded, "You think he wanted something from you?"

"I think I know exactly what he wanted." You grumbled.

He put a hand on your knee, trying to express sympathy. "You're smart to get away so fast."

"I want to think so, but I just know he's going to be all bitter the next time I see him! And I can't even relax now because I know he could be anywhere!"

Medic settled back in his chair a little, folding his arms across his chest with an odd, amused look on his face. "You must really hate him, don't you? You can tell me, I won't say anything to him, I promise."

You sighed through your nose, unsure how to reply, "That's just it. I'm really not so sure if I do or not."

Medic looked at you skeptically, not anticipating that response, "Pardon?"

You laced your hands together in your lap, fidgeting slightly in your seat as you kept your gaze focused out the window beside you, "Well, to be fair, it's never fun to care about someone more than they care about you. Yeah, Spy can be a real creep, but it's not easy to feel unloved like that, who wouldn't feel sorry for someone in that situation. Or, like, you need to love someone enough for the both of you, I guess? I'm sorry, I'm not sure this is making much sense, is it?"

An odd look crossed Medic's face, almost one of disbelief. "Do you really feel sorry for him?"

Shrugging but maintaining eye contact, you nodded, continuing, "I mean, it's a lot of pressure to try and love someone enough to make the other person reciprocate the affection. I understand how it makes someone feel so trapped. I know it's hard, but I believe it's for the best to keep my distance. For both our sakes." As you rambled, you shifted a little in your seat. "I mean, even if it is just sex or whatever, no one likes feeling turned down or unwanted like that, you know? Maybe I don't like him personally, but I really can't help but feel for him here, you know what I mean?"

Clearing your throat and sitting up straighter in your chair, you felt a bit awkward after your little tangent, "Anyhow, all that to say, I feel bad about skipping out on him like that. I guess I'll owe him one next time I see him."

Medic's easygoing smile returned, nodding to you in understanding, "True, but you'd better be careful next time you meet him. Wait and see where all that sympathy gets you next time, whether you meet his love or hate."

"I didn't think about that. God, this sucks." You had no idea if you felt any better after getting this off your chest, but you were just about certain any chance of finishing your work tonight was out of the question. No way you could focus on all that now.

Just as you were about to get ready to depart for the evening, make some lame excuse about needing to get home urgently or something when you heard Medic's voice again, "You look tense. How about something to drink?"

You couldn't help but chuckle a little, "Is that advisable? Mixing stress and alcohol?"

Medic shrugged, not appearing to see any issue, "All in moderation."

A drink did sound like just the thing, but you had a bad feeling if you didn't leave now, you'd regret it by morning. "I'm not so sure. I have to catch the bus soon."

He brushed off your words as soon as they left your mouth, "Let me drive. I insist."

Hell, if he was so intent on something to take the edge off, you weren't about to stop him, "If you really want to…"

Needing no further incentive, he was off while you busied yourself to ensure your confidential documents were tucked away and back in your work bag. Medic returned shortly after with some kind of cocktail in a highball glass, slightly rose-colored in one hand, and a cup of black tea in the other. He handed you the one that looked like a cocktail. You accepted, raising your glass a little thanks, "To good company."

Medic tapped his cup against your glass before taking a small sip of his drink, watching you do the same. The drink was much sweeter than you were expecting; it wasn't precisely a luxury-tier location, but the flavor of your cocktail tasted particularly artificial and syrupy. Still, a free drink was a free drink, and you made sure to give thanks before trying another sip. It tasted much better on the second try, now that the sweetness didn't take you so off guard.

You closed your eyes a little, trying to decipher the taste. "What kind of flavor is in this?"

He stared at you over the rim of his teacup, "Try and guess."

Forcing another sip down your throat, you answered, "Mango?"

Medic shook his head, his eyes never once leaving you as you enjoyed the cocktail, "Not quite. Try a little more."

The more you drank, the faster it went down. It was intense; you could already tell that much, but it didn't taste like strong liquor. It was like some kind of miracle potion! "Is it grenadine?"

Medic wasn't even drinking anymore. His teacup was abandoned on the saucer while his full attention was on you. "Not that either. Take a big sip and see if that helps."

You tried to take as big of a sip as you could manage but ran out of drink before you could do so. Still, you were curious to know what was in the drink and how the flavor seemed to change and warp the longer it stayed on your tongue. "Guava?"

Medic clapped a hand on your back, pulling you into a tight hug, making your head spin slightly from the sudden movement, "You got it! How do you feel now?"

"Drink was amazing! And I, uh, I do feel a little better, thanks!"

Keeping one arm wrapped around you, he took the glass from you with his other hand, "Almost done!" He poured the last concoction you didn't even realize was left into your mouth while you swallowed obediently, feeling warm and giddy with Medic's arm wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you upright."

"There you are, good job!" His praise sounded eerily like what a doctor would give a 5-year-old after enduring their first shot, and weirdly, it didn't embarrass you. You were too warm and full of levity from the alcohol to care about feeling patronized.

Helping you back down to your seat, "Wait right here, I'll return the glass for you."

While he was gone, you stared blankly ahead at your screen, watching the line blink on a predominantly white Word document until Medic returned, leaning down with one hand on the back of your chair to shut the laptop. "Didn't I shut that already?" You thought before he spoke, "Ready to go?"

You knew you weren't done, but for some reason, you couldn't exactly remember what you started in the first place and didn't complain as Medic helped gather your notes and put away your device. While it was impossible to stay focused, you were still largely coherent, feeling somewhat affected by the alcohol, though not in a way familiar to you. Heavy eyelids made the world around you dark and blurry. The spinning in your head made you bob forward in your seat, unable to find your posture. The taste of sweet artificial fruit clung like a thick syrup to your tongue and in the corners of your mouth no matter how many times you swallowed. 

A fuzzy, warm feeling deep in the pit of your gut made you shift in your seat as you found it more and more difficult to mask this sudden drowsiness. Fortunately, Medic was more than happy to help you pack up the work bag you thought you already tucked away and hold the door open for you, leading you by hand to his car through the dark, hopefully not unsafe roads. 

Medic led the way effortlessly. For a split second, you were too timid to lean on him for support; you were a grown woman and had no right acting so sloppily after a single drink. But whether or not you wanted his help, by God, did you need it. And he could sense it, too. Leading you with one arm wrapped around your waist to help keep you upright while leading you to his car before helping you inside.

You sat back, your eyes drifting shut, feeling Medic leaning over you to help fasten the seat belt, and with his shoulder so close, your head tipped forward to rest against it. If Medic wanted you to stop acting so clingy, he wasn't about to say so, allowing you to keep your head resting against his shoulder as he patted the top of your head. "There you are, nice and safe." 

Just as he was about to pull away, you leaned a little harder against him, shaking your head, trying to keep him close despite your absence of communication skills. "Not home… Scared to go back-" 

Thankfully, he was close enough to understand the mumble that was your voice. Using one hand to ruffle your head playfully, "You don't have to be alone; come home with me." 

He didn't need to assure you, nor was he scared he might have to; by now, your mind was entirely overtaken by fuzzy neediness. Any concerns about trusting another person to get you home while you were already so out of it were gone. All you knew was you wanted Medic to stay, to keep you feeling safe and comfortable. As long as he was there with you, none of the potential dangers of the world outside mattered. 

Childishly, you clung to his coat with clumsy, weak fingers, keeping him close as you buried your face in his chest, "Need you- Need to be safe." It was too hard to bother with complete sentences. Not only was your mind spinning, but your tongue felt too big for your mouth, and though you could hear and understand Medic well enough, communication on your end felt impossible.

For a while, he didn't pull away; instead, he used both arms to support you in a secure hug as you remained nestled into his chest. "I've got you." 

Eventually, you managed to pull away enough to look up at him, blinking, unable to entirely focus or see him clearly with dilated eyes. "Let's go home."

But before he could pull away further, you planted a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against his lips. Instantly, you felt him returning the kiss, and he cupped your cheek with one hand to help keep your head table and deepen the kiss, giving you butterflies. His tongue slid against yours so smoothly it helped soothe your agitation and confusion over how you managed to become so sloppy over a single drink. Medic's mouth against your own made you feel like nothing but he mattered, a feeling which never once went away the drive over; even as your eyes drifted shut, that comfortable smile never went away as you replayed the kiss over and over in your head.

Never before had a ride home at night felt so intense and relaxing. Fluorescent lights passed in dull flashes, and the windshield wipers clicked to clear the rain with a soothing rhythm. No doubt if you tried to take the bus home, you'd catch more than a little unwarned attention with your loopy behavior. But none of that mattered because you weren't in a crowded bus, and you weren't going home alone; you were with Medic. Even if you couldn't see him in the dark car, the presence of another nearby soothed your worries, and made your heart throb.

Thinking about the car ride over was enough to remind you- and bring you back to the present moment, especially when the blindfold was pulled from your eyes. It didn't make much difference; the lighting was so low, and you doubted you could see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea if he could see your face either, but you smiled up at him regardless, the least you could do to thank him for all he'd done for you tonight.

But you didn't need to see an entire face when you felt your lips against yours, and you didn't need to see who the lips belonged to kiss back. One kiss on the lips became one on the neck, and you could feel hands all over your body, getting greedier, wanting to feel all of you against him. You didn't even realize he was already naked until you felt his head probing against your clit.

The sensation of hot skin grazing between your legs, preparing to align with your core, made you flinch, unable to suppress your own whining. Feeling so needy and overwhelmed was agony. Fortunately, Spy was completely sober and ready to give you precisely what you needed. As if you even deserved it after leaving him high and dry earlier- but for you alone, Spy was willing to show some mercy. 

His own raging hard-on, throbbing as his head connected with your sex made Spy sigh, watching you with half-lid eyes as he prepared himself to thrust forward. You were feeling far less coordinated, haphazardly trying to roll your hips against him, all while he remained still as a statue above, waiting for you to tire yourself out enough to let him take control. 

It's incredible how Spy didn't need to see your face or speak with you to communicate; he knew exactly what you needed. When you finally settled down enough to let him move again, Spy lowered his head to the crook of your neck, nipping at the thin skin as he fully entered your body. 

The ropes creaked lightly as your body strained to accommodate his anatomy while inundated by so many other sensations.

You were just coherent enough to say, "Feels… Feels so fucking good."

After those words left your mouth, you were uncommunicative for the rest of the night. Present, aware, and even responsive to Spy, but unable to speak. One round of sex stretched into two, or maybe more? One of your last memories of the night was the feeling of something running down your thigh and a needy kiss against your neck, which morphed into a harsh bite- but even that wasn't enough to fully awaken you. It wasn't long until your body couldn't take anymore and passed out, still fully restrained in the bed of another.

By the time Spy fully unwound the restraints from around your wrists and ankles, you were too sleepy to realize Spy was directly in front of you. Spy could feel himself swelling with pride, staring down at your helpless body curled up comfortably in his own bed, naked and spent. The effects of the MDMA and alcohol were beginning to subside; you were past your climax, and now it was time to rest. 

It was dangerous to mix drugs and alcohol. Initially, Spy told himself he was alright with doing this because, if you accidentally had a bad trip or unforeseen adverse reaction, you brought it on yourself for rejecting him. Watching you suffer was an outcome he prepared for, but seeing you unravel and completely give in to pleasure was far more rewarding.

Spy watched your breathing become heavy and slow, curling into the fetal position on your side, to drift off into a deep rest. He was pretty drained from all the excitement as well, but forced himself from the bed, switching on a lamplight as he made his way down the hall to fix himself some black tea.

Perhaps he'd regret staying awake all night in the morning, but for now he was more than happy to ride out the sweet triumph of conquest a little longer. The situation wasn't new to him. Spy was blessed with great fortune with the opposite sex, and even those who initially tried to brush him off, it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. Usually, not even the satisfaction of victory lasted long after the lay, but as Spy sipped his tea, watching you naked and deep asleep, he knew it'd be a shame to move on so soon. Whether it was affection or sadism that made him want to keep you to himself, Spy wasn't sure, but he knew it had been ages since he'd felt such a fondness.

It was so cute how you thought you could run away fast enough for him not to suspect you would try to brush him off earlier. Trying so hard to plan a way out from behind his back, entirely ignorant of the way his eyes followed you, reading you from a distance. You had no idea who you were dealing with, and the idea of keeping you here, showing you the extent of his depravity and an entirely new meaning of the word held Spy with wrapt interest. And he realized what a shame it would be to end all the fun tonight because you weren't awake to feel it yourself.

[yieldtotemptation]

WISH ft. Giselle

giselle x male reader smut

8k words

"It's a Christmas miracle!" —is how Giselle chooses to make her grand entrance, swinging open the door to your bar, a fresh powder of snow dusting her shoulders. She shrugs it off. "My favourite person in all of Seoul."

You deadpan, "That's very concerning."

She laughs off your quip with the same ease that she does everything else. Sways her hips, saunters over to you, fire engine-red heels clacking against wood as she rushes to take her usual stool. Not like she'd have to fight anyone for it, there's no one else here.

Besides, even if there were—it's always been hers.

You're sliding over her drink before she can even open her mouth to order, because that's what you do for her. Anticipate. Your job in a nutshell, really. Knowing what she wants.

Her thanks is in the blush colouring her cheeks, flushing them a rosy pink, matching her hair in hue.

Just so immediately pretty.

She raises the drink, grinning at you through the glass. Gets a little too dramatic with her gasp.

"Exactly what I wished for! How did you know?"

"Made a list, checked it twice."

That earns you a giggle, has Giselle leaning forward, propping an elbow on the bar, chin in her palm. Her usual routine—just sitting there, all beautiful and flirty and really, really fucking out of place amongst the dim lighting and worn-out leather.

And yeah, you’ve committed it all to memory, seen it in every light and shadow; the smoky liner ringing around her eyes, the gloss that makes her lips look shiny and sweet and oh so soft. The absolutely devastating smile that never seems to leave her—only gets wider, warmer, parting when she laughs and slaps a hand on the table, or lands it on your forearm.

Accidentally, of course.

"Does that mean I get to sit on your lap later?"

It’s a touch early for her to throw out bait so blatantly. That’s more of a three-drinks-in kind of thing.

Still, your mouth answers for you before your brain can catch up, “Depends if you've been naughty or nice.”

“I think we both know the answer to that one,” she says, far too casually for you to handle, daring you to let that thought linger. Let it rattle around your head with all the other loaded thoughts involving her in various states of undress and in all sorts of compromising positions—underneath, on-top, kneeling. Thoughts that are better kept on a tight leash.

Because you know what would happen if you were to give in to them.

How you’d reach over the bar separating the two of you, pull her onto the counter. Send all the glasses, the bottles, crashing to the floor, and just kiss that smile right off her face, right here, right now. Tear off her clothes and leave her bare and exposed to the cold December air, make her yours, fuck her absolutely senseless. Render her nothing but a victim to your fingers, your lips, your cock, to all the need that’s been boiling inside you over the past months and—fuck.

She's got you good.

There's no point in pretending like it hasn't been this way since the first time she found you—at the end of an alley that's at the end of another alley, down the stairs and into the underground proper. Waltzing her way into the hovel that is your whiskey bar; all for reasons that you’re yet to fully untangle.

Months of performing this same dance—it's late, she walks in, typically perfect and bouncy, like some half-remembered fantasy or a libido-driven hallucination. Only, she must be real, because there’s no way you could ever conjure up someone like her.

It's embarrassing, you really should be far more used to it now, built up at least a partial immunity to her brand of charm. But somehow, she still finds a way under your skin. You’re only human, after all. And she’s… she’s Giselle.

Undeniably, in-your-face gorgeous, Giselle.

Dead-set and determined to throw herself at you until you break.  

"Perfect," is her evaluation when she's taken her first sip. It plays out like it’s been choreographed: she licks her lips, flashes that million-dollar smile, lets loose a sigh of pure joy. Looks at you all wide-eyed and impressed; like you're the only person in the world who's ever given her exactly what she wants. Like she doesn't already live in a reality where everyone else falls flat on their faces to ensure that the needs of Aeri Uchinaga are met. “Always perfect.”

And you have your own steps to follow. You're glued to the pulse in the curve of her neck, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the naked collarbone when she shirks off her coat to reveal tits that are much too ample for her dress to contain. All these little things that make her so fucking distracting.

She says, surreptitiously, "You know, I didn't think you'd be open today."

"And yet you came anyway."

"And yet I did."

There's the loaded insinuation stacked on top of her words like a teasing question mark:

('I came looking for you.'

'I was waiting.')

"Like I said, a Christmas miracle," Giselle repeats, softly this time. Barely audible over the Christmas tunes you’ve got on a loop, some self-inflicted torture you’re wreaking on yourself for purposes unknown. Maybe to get into the spirit of things. Maybe to keep the silence at bay. Maybe to make Giselle's efforts feel less effective.

It doesn't work.

It does, however, have you leaning in just to hear her better, and that's a mistake right there. Getting too close that you can follow the lines of the dress she's picked out for the night. A sheer black, strapless number that hugs her figure close, dipping at her chest, giving you just enough of a glimpse to send the alarm bells ringing.

Ending short of the tops of her thighs, because of course she's wearing stockings, and of course they have tiny little bows holding them up, and you're already thinking about how easy it would be to get your teeth in them and pull them apart, and the walls are starting to feel closer and closer with each passing second.

But you don't say anything. You just try to remember to breathe. You chance a look back at her face, aiming for unaffected.

Her eyes instantly undo you.

Giselle uncrosses and crosses her legs. The stockings stretch.

"Like what you see?"

Now seems like an optimal time to pour yourself a drink. Something strong to fortify the weakness in your knees, to maybe bolster the resolve that's threatening to crack like the ice frosting over the windows outside.

You grab a glass, pour a good measure of whiskey and throw it back without even bothering with the usual ritual. You need it. The burn is a good distraction.

You turn her question back on her. Shame on her for asking something so obvious. "What do you think?"

"I think," Giselle smiles, tilts her head, that curtain of bubblegum-pink cascading over her collarbone and down onto the bar, "That it appears that all the effort I put getting into this tight fucking dress was worth it."

You're unable to stop yourself from saying, "Don’t need the dress if that was the intention." It slips out of you, like an idiot, and you decide to busy yourself by pouring two more drinks, because you really don't know what the fuck else to do at this point.

“Duly noted,” she says, likely adding it to some mental file she keeps on you. Ways to get you to drop your guard. Ways to get under your skin. “But don’t you think unwrapping presents are half the fun?”

You’re rolling your eyes, it’s too much, but Giselle’s too good at this whole thing. Got the two of you sliding deep into the easy rhythm of conversation you've found yourselves in many, many times before; when it's just you and her in the waning hours of the night and you're finding excuses not to close up and she's finding excuses to stay.

And the drinks just compound on it even more. All the alcohol really seems to do is blunt her filter and dull your better instincts, bringing you both to that tipsy point where everything that comes out of your mouths can’t help but sound like shameless innuendos; all terrible ideas that you both absolutely must indulge in.

Talking and flirting and drinking until you’re finally crossing that invisible line drawn over the counter of your bar, forgetting about that ethereal wall of separation that keeps you on the straight and narrow; that would normally stop you from doing things like reaching over and brushing a strand of pink out of her face and over her ear.

You keep your hand there, your thumb padding the soft skin of her cheek. She leans into your palm.

“So,” she says, and it’s accompanied by the kind of pause that holds a whole universe of possibility. She takes a sip of her third drink of the night, her eyes fixated on you, studying the lines on your face. Trying to find the cracks.

“So.”

“Why haven’t you made a move on me?”

She might as well have gathered snow from outside your door and thrown it right at your face. You blink, the warmth of the whiskey in your cheeks fading fast. “Very confident of you to think that I would want to.”

“Don’t dodge,” she chides. “We both know you didn’t open tonight for the amazing business rush. So. Spill. Why?"

You’re about to spout off an excuse—something about a Hippocratic oath, or bartender-customer privilege, but Giselle cuts your lie short before it can even leave your throat.

“You’ve been staring at me like you want to eat me alive every night I’ve been here, and you expect me to believe you’re not interested?” Giselle leans closer, her breath warm on your hand. Her eyes piercing through, stripping away every defence you’ve ever had. “You’re barely hiding it you know? How badly you want me.”

There’s an implicit challenge underneath her words. You get the message loud and clear:

Don’t you know how badly I want you too?

"It's—" you start, before course correcting when you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. You swirl the whiskey around in your own glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light and dance. "Complicated."

"Oh really?" Giselle's eyes light up at that, and you're beginning to feel like you're falling into some trap she's set up. It just hasn’t revealed itself to you yet. "I like complicated. I live off complicated."

"I'll bet," you reply, not missing the fact that she's now taken your hand into hers, threading her fingers through yours. "Probably why you're here so often."

Giselle clicks her tongue, runs it across her lips. You'd die for a taste. "I thought I asked you to stop dodging. But, if you really want to know, I come here because I like the company," she explains, before ending her thought with, "and the attention."

"Because being an idol doesn't give you enough?"

"Not in the way I want it."

"And I do?"

"Not yet," she says, with an air of finality. "But give it time."

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of the unspoken. The air in the bar feels charged, like the moment before a storm hits. You're reading her, acutely aware of the things running through her mind, because you can see it in her eyes, because they're the exact same thoughts that’s never left yours.

You want her.

You need her.

She’ll give herself to you.

Giselle’s the first to break the pause. “Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

The corners of eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and that's about where you realise your fate's been sealed from the start. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. You’re aching already. "What I really want for Christmas."

You don't need a map to know where this is headed. But you still ask anyway. "And what is that?"

"You."

You set down your glass with a clink. "Look, Giselle—"

"Let me finish," she interrupts, and now her hand's sliding up your arm, leaving a trail of static wherever she touches. "For Christmas this year, all I want is for you to do whatever you want to me."

A second attempt, "Giselle—"

"I know you want to. You know I want you to. We've danced around this for too long and I'm running out of ways to subtly tell you that if I don’t get my hands on that perfect cock that I know you're hiding, I just might burn this place to the ground. So," she says carefully, intentionally. Making sure you feel each word coursing through your every nerve ending, winding their way down to your cock, until you’re throbbing in your pants.

Giselle bats her eyelashes. Bites her lip. Leans even closer. Her tits get very close to winning the war against her dress.

"Don't you want to make my Christmas wish come true?"

You never stood a chance. "I do quite like my bar in one piece."

"I do too." Giselle's smile turns devilish. “But I like the idea of having your cum inside me more.”

"Then we better get you out of your clothes."

Only, a slight amendment.

"But keep the stockings on."

—

Giselle kisses you like a woman starved. Messy, sloppy crashes that has her nose bumping into yours and her teeth finding purchase in your lip. She seems determined to leave her mark. You’re more than happy to let her.

It’s a far cry from what you’re used to—the build-up, the slow crescendo where you both pretend that you don’t immediately want to jump to the inevitable—but Giselle clearly doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

The moment you’ve dragged her over the bar, fulfilled your fantasy and cleared the countertop so the only thing standing between you and her body is the crumpled mess of her dress, she's on you. Moaning, whining into your mouth, desperate. Tongue hunting down yours, pressing into it, trying to wrestle it into submission.

Taking your cheeks into her hands, holding firm, the only thing keeping her steady as you match her hunger, heat against heat. Her taste is everything you've ever wanted—sweet and sharp, like the whiskey burning through your veins, warming you from the inside out.

"God, I needed this," she whispers in the breaths between your kisses, as your hands get adventurous and run down the length of her spine, pulling her closer into you.

You make good on your promise, finding the zip, peeling it down, leaving the fabric to sag off her shoulders. Her skin is cold underneath your fingertips, the curve of her back breaking out in goosebumps. Your touch makes her arch, her back bow, her breasts push up against her dress until it can't hang on any longer and the whole thing pools around her waist.

“Merry Christmas to me,” comes tumbling out of your mouth when you finally get to appreciate Giselle.

The full, round tits, naked and begging for your hands. The smooth curve of her waist, the dip of her stomach. The way her hips flare out, giving way to thighs that you know, just know, will be the perfect grip. And the stockings. Holding up the suspension of your disbelief—she’s so ridiculously out of your league and yet so, so needy for you.

“Fucking gorgeous, Giselle,” you’re telling her, making her sigh, her eyes closing shut as you reach out to fill your hand with her chest. Your touch makes her nipples pebble, stiffen underneath your thumb. She leans back, pushing her chest out even more, giving you as much of herself as she can for you to touch, to tweak, to worship.

And she’s so much smaller than you, so much softer than you’ve ever allowed yourself to believe. The reality of her in your arms is far more intense than any fantasy you’ve ever concocted in the quiet of the night after she’s long gone and left you with nothing but her memory. But she’s giving herself to you now, wanting you to do it all.

Letting you push into her, kiss the skin between her neck and her clavicle, press into her a brand that will linger long after you’ve both unwinded and unraveled each other.

“Just like that,” Giselle whispers in your ear, hands finding your neck, needing you even closer still. “Don’t stop, just keep touching me. You can do whatever you want—tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”

Nothing else to do but oblige, to give in to your baser instincts, to bring every fantasy, every lurid thought to life. Giselle’s been living in your mind rent-free. Filled it with thoughts of fucking her into oblivion again and again—so you already know exactly where to go, what to do next.

You know to trace the edge of her stocking with your thumb, pressing down on the bow, watching as the skin around it flushes from your touch.

You know to drag your hand up, higher up her thighs, push the hem of her dress to her waist, slip under the elastic of her panties and hold itself there. Leave her trembling in anticipation of your touch.

“Please,” you’ve barely started and she’s already begging, breathless. Needing for you to explore her.

But first, you need to tell her how.

“I’m going to touch you,” you say, voice gruff, and she shudders, her hands tightening around your neck. “I’m going to get my fingers into your cunt, I’m going to squeeze your tits, I’m going to make you scream my name, and you will, because you’re going to be such a good girl for me. Understood?”

Her eyes flash open, meeting yours. Not an ounce of doubt. Just pure need.

“Yes,” she says. A single word that’s more a plea than a response. “Please. Do whatever you want. Make me feel good.”

She just about collapses when you yank her panties down and push your hands between her thighs.

“God—fuck—” and she’s sobbing already.

“You’re so drenched,” you’re remarking, sliding your fingers higher, feeling the wetness that’s been gathering there for who knows how long.

“For you,” she’s gasping, repeating herself, “For you.”

It’s so easy to find the heat of her, to push in and down on the top her mound. Give just the right amount of pressure on her clit that makes her jerk. Makes the muscles in her face twitch, her mouth open wide and moan. It’s a melody in your ears, and you press down harder, swirling now, and you’re beginning to think you’ve found your true calling.

Fuck making her drinks; making her fall apart is why you were put on this planet in the first place.

Her breasts jiggle with every tremble that runs through her, flickering in reach of you, taunting you with their bounce. You can’t help but lean down. Not when they’re calling to you like that.

You lick a path from the base of her neck to her collarbone, and then lower, to one of those perfect peaks that’s been begging for your attention.

Giselle inhales sharp through her teeth, her chest heaving as you start to suck on her nipple. You work your tongue around it, roll it in your mouth until her knuckles turn white against the edge of the bar, her nails digging into surface. The sounds she’s making, these choked gasps that are so raw, so needy.

Showing how good she feels with every part of her body—pushing her breasts up and into your face, her hands tangling in your hair, legs spreading wider, thighs shaking at the effort of staying upright.

You don’t let up, keep going—tongue swirling, fingers moving at double-time over her cunt, her other tit.

Listening to her turn your name into something filthy, something that sounds like a curse.

You pull back off her, cool air kissing the wetness you leave behind, making her quiver, her high, fuck-me heels knocking against wood.

“Giselle,” you say, taking in this look of bliss on her face. The teary eyes, the trembling lip, her cheeks now so very red. “Gonna make you cum now.”

You don’t wait for permission. You already have it. You step forward, lifting her legs up and trapping her atop the bar, spreading her wide open.

Two fingers at first, all at once, no hesitation. Giselle’s pupils blow wide, shocked, teeth bite down on her bottom lip, muffling a cry that you feel in the pit of your stomach. She’s so soaked that you slide right in with ease, a slow push that makes her whine, the slickness making the sounds of your fucking echo over the din of the empty bar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Giselle stutters, all breathy and desperate. Hands flying to your shoulders, nails digging in. Holding on for dear life, writhing as your fingers curl upwards, pushing up against that magical spot inside that has her clenching.

“Such a good girl,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth like they’ve always been there, just waiting for her to hear them.

The whimper that she makes—the noise alone should be illegal.

“So tight around me,” you tell her, pushing on, focusing entirely on pulling more of these noises from her, doing your best to ignore how hard you already are, how unbearable it is to not be inside her. “So good for me.”

It’s the praise that makes her keen, makes her whine. Pushes herself onto your fingers, trying to get more, trying to get all of you. Just so fucking hot for you.

You can see it playing out across her body, the way she’s losing herself to the pleasure, giving up control of her own functions to you.  So helpless, so beautiful. So fucking delighted to finally have you using her in ways she’s only dreamt of.

You’ve never seen anything like it. You’re addicted before you’ve even had her.

“This cunt is going to feel so good around my cock.”

Giselle's nodding, slurring together a string of yeses and thank yous in response.

Her pussy’s pulsing around your fingers, juices soaking your hand, she’s already so close. So close that you can almost taste the orgasm on her skin.

“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you, Giselle? Want me to fuck you senseless.”

Her eyes are glazed over, barely there. Just stunningly beautiful even in the midst of her desire, and you’re not even sure she’s heard you at all until she’s panting out, “I want it. Need it. So much. Oh, God, please, fuck me with your cock. Make me cum. Make me scream.”

But you get in close, lips to her cheek, a command for only her to hear. “You’re going to cum all over my hand. You’re going to show me how badly you want it. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, please—” is the most she can manage, a harsh whisper that barely gets through. You feel it more than hear it, a shiver running through her, down her spine and up yours. “Do it. Give me more, I need it.”

She’s nothing short of incredible. Writhing under your touch, losing herself to your fingers—there’s never been anything—anyone—like this. Anyone that runs this hot,  that pleads this much, that is so eager for nothing but you, as much of you as you can give.

There’s no excuse for why it's taken so long to get here, why you let every other opportunity skate by. But now’s not the time for regrets. This is all just catch-up. Getting to this moment that’s been burning a hole in your mind. Making up for all the times when you should’ve been bringing her to her knees, should've been marking her up as yours.

“Mine,” you’re claiming, taking her lips once more, feeling the tremble in her chin. “You’re going to be mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” her voice quavers back into your mouth.

She kisses you back like she’s drowning, like you’re the very air she needs to breathe. And it’s all you can do to finger-fuck her faster, pressing deeper into her wetness. It’s filthy, borderline disrespectful the way that you’re owning her now. But it’s all necessary, if that’s what it’s going to take to get to feel her shatter in your arms.

But just as you can feel her hips bucking up off the counter and into your wrist, as she’s about to tip over the edge, you pull back, breaking the kiss, leaving her choking for air.

“Look at me,” you tell her, forcing her glassy eyes to refocus, to snap to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to cum so hard for me. You’re going to look at me when you do.”

Giselle opens her mouth answer, but all that comes out is a whiny mewl when you slide your other hand from her tits to the back of her neck, pulling her into you, hard enough that you can feel her pulse drumming against your palm.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” you say to her, adorning her with all these sweet words that absolutely wreck her. And it’s so easy to because all of them fit. Your good girl, your slut, your baby, your whore. She deserves to hear them all. “Take it, take it all for me.”

“Fuck, please, I’m almost—” She tries and fails to put the syllables together—your fingers are too good, too precise in their frenzy. Playing her body, hitting every key, every beat, rushing to that final chorus.

And then it hits her, without warning, just a sigh and then she’s—

“I'm—I'm—cumming!”

Eyes trying to stay on yours, losing focus, turning wild, until she’s barely even there anymore.

Giselle cums.

Locking her in place, rippling across her body. Every muscle tensing, cunt quivering, hips lifting off the bar as her juices paint your hand.

“Thank you, thank you, fucking thank you—"

Her voice dies out, trapped in her throat, her words becoming nonsense as your fingers have her riding waves. You’re utterly transfixed, watching the orgasm rip across her face, melting her down to a messy puddle. Barely hanging on to you, mouth lolling open, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in sharp and fast.

She’s limbless, her body goes slack, and you debate giving her the space, or even just a second to catch her breath, to come back to reality.

But you just don’t.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop working her, because something tells you that the last thing she’d want is for you to stop. Something tells you that she’s one of those girls—the ones who love to chase the high. Who love to be pushed, who love to be told that they’re doing so well, that they’re perfect.

And Giselle is.

“Again,” you press into her neck, and she gives you the closest approximation to a nod that she can muster. “Again and again, I’ll make you cum until you can’t walk straight. Until you forget what it was ever like to not have my cock inside you.”

The nods come faster, insistent, following a whine as your fingers slide out of her cunt, all sticky with her juices. You bring it up to her, hold it in front of her face so she can see the mess she’s made of your hand.

Her breath hitches when she opens her eyes, catching sight of your glistening digits. You don’t even need to prompt her; she takes the initiative—she’s sucking your fingers without a second thought.

Moans when she tastes herself, sucking them clean, tongue flicking across your knuckles, pulling them into her mouth, relishing her own flavour.

“So fucking needy for it, aren’t you?”

You withdraw your fingers, enjoying the cry of protest at the loss, but you’ve got better plans for her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, before backing off completely, leaving Giselle empty, her legs wobbly.

You're quick to lose your clothes, stripping yourself off without much ceremony, tossing them aside with little care for where they end up.

And yet Giselle’s eyes rake over you, following your every move—she’s seen you before, you’ve caught her staring at your arms, your biceps, making no secret of assaulting you with her gaze at any chance she can get.

But now it’s the unbuckling of your belt, the vanishing of your jeans, the reveal of your cock. Springing free, hard and heavy.

Giselle wants it. Mouth salivating, pussy leaking at the sight of it. Oh, how she wants it.

It gives her energy, has her reaching out for a touch, a stroke. But you stop her, gently taking her wrist into your hand before she can make her Christmas wish come true.

She even has the audacity to pout. “Haven’t I been good?”

“Good?” You repeat, and you’re laughing. “You’ve been downright angelic.”

The pout quirks into a smirk, and there’s that familiar mischievous spark returning. “Then don't I deserve a little reward?” Giselle’s fingers go to her folds, spreading them apart. Putting her cunt on display, proud to show off how ready she is to be filled. “Like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my perfect little pussy?”

You don’t bother with the usual finesse, there’s no need for that. This doesn’t land anywhere on the normal spectrum of casual hook-ups to making love. This is about fucking. About need, raw and unfiltered.

“So, would you please—"

You’re yanking her by the waist before she can get started, lifting her off the bar and setting her down in front of you. There’s that thrill rushing through her, at being so easily handled, so effortlessly claimed.

She’s panting, breaths fogging up the air between you, waiting for your instruction.

“Get rid of the dress.”

Her compliance is instant—she steps out of her outfit, her panties. Until she’s just standing before you; the charm, the sex appeal, the big beautiful eyes all in view, so full of hope and desperation for the special kind of bliss only you can provide her.

Just Giselle, her fucking gift of a body in a pair of tight black stockings and high stiletto heels.

“Now,” you say, tilting your hips forward, your cock jabbing into her stomach, pressing a stamp of need into her skin. Giselle preens at the contact, practically vibrating at your touch. One more thing— “Beg.”

“Fuck me,” she says. Simply, honestly. With every ounce of her soul. “Fuck me good. Take me. Please. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. I’ve been dreaming of this, of you fucking me just like this, so—please, make it real.”

“Begging’s a good look on you, Giselle,” you murmur, finishing the rest of the thought in your head. ‘You're going to be doing a lot more of it tonight.’

She yelps when you flip her over, force her to brace herself against the bar. Her lovely ass high up in the air, her pussy drooling onto the floor.

You don't bother warning her.

You stuff your cock into her.

She fucking screams.

So wet, so slippery. Sliding in and out of her, forcing her cunt to mould itself too you. So fucking tight that you have to bite back a groan, have to fight the urge to just pound into her, to fuck her into the counter.

But there's still a pace you're setting, a rhythm that’s not quite as frantic as her needy cries. You’re in no hurry, not yet. You want to savour this. The feel of her clenching around you, the way her back arches with every thrust, her palms slapping against the bar top, leaving little smudges of sweat behind.

“God, this—” Giselle tries, but finds herself lost for words, unable to properly articulate just how good it feels to have you inside her. But the noises she makes—whimpers and gasps and moans and groans—speak volumes.

You complete the thought for her— “You fucking love this, don’t you?” You’re grunting, pressing your body to hers, nipping at her ear. Slurring these dirty thoughts like they're sweet nothings, these words of pure filth into her neck. “Love being fucked like this. Been waiting for it for so long. So goddamn desperate for it that you can’t even fucking talk.”

She’s fucking amazing. Not just the feeling—hot and tight and perfect—it’s the way she moves with you. Pure pleasure ricocheting through her, the slap of her ass against your hips, the sway of her tits underneath her, her cunt desperately trying to swallow you whole.

It’s her, her body, so alive and responsive and sensitive underneath yours. Taking your cock so deliciously, her cunt fluttering around like it’s trying to hold onto it, like it’s never going to let go.

“So, so fucking hard,” she’s found her voice, clawing back some level of composure. Enough to tense her cunt, squeeze her walls around you. Needing you to know every inch of her body, every inch of her pussy, needing you to know that it’s all yours for the taking. “God, it feels so good—doesn’t it? Fucking me here. Tell me. Tell me how good I am. Tell me I’m a good girl. Tell me you’re never going to be able to spend another second here without thinking of my pussy.”

You know she’s right, she’s leaving a part of herself here, branded into the very fabric of this bar that’s been your sanctuary. It has you pushing in deeper, a violent thrust of your hips, a little punctuation to drive her point home.

She swallows as you pick up speed, chokes on a half-formed moan—so, so fucking close. But you’ve only just begun.

Grabbing her hair, winding your fist in pink, pulling her up so she's forced to listen. The details on her face are all hazy, her makeups smudged from tears, from where she’s rubbed at her face, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. But that’s not how this goes. That’s not how any of this goes.

“You want to hear how good you’re being for me?” A harsh whisper for her, and it takes so much effort for her to just nod in response. “You want me to tell you all the filthy things I’m thinking? Everything that I’ve been dying to do to you?”

“Yes,” she pleads back. “Tell me, please—I need to hear it all.”

So you do. You lay it all on her. Every unfiltered, explicit thought you’ve had—every depraved fantasy that’s on the tip of your tongue whenever she’s around. You tell her all of it, how much of a whore you’re going to turn her into; how much of a slut you want to make her.

How this isn’t the last time. No, there’s going to be hours, days, weeks of this after.  Of you fucking her here, of her coming to you just to have another taste of your cock. It’s a revelation, a promise, and it fucking ruins her.

“Every single time you've walked into here, every single time you've sat across form me, I've thought about this," you're grunting now, giving in to the urgency that’s been building up in your chest, the pressure that’s been weighing on you for what feels like an eternity. “I’ve thought about bending you over this very bar. Making you beg for it, making you scream out my name when I fuck my cum into you. Making sure every single person out there knows that this cunt is mine to take whenever I fucking want.”

It’s so fucked, the effect that hearing all this has on her. The sound of your voice, your darkest desires, the harshness of your words, it’s all too much for her, it’s everything she’s ever wanted to be told.

You’re unlocking something in her, something she’s never admitted to anyone, not her closest friends, not her bandmates, not even herself. The way you speak to her, the way you’re treating her like a perfect little fuck doll—and you’re realising that maybe, just maybe, it’s because no one’s ever fucked her well enough to find out.

There’s no room here to be gentle, there’s no way in hell she’d ever want you to be. You tighten your grip in your hair, slam into her harder, skin slapping against skin, mixing with the wet sounds of her pussy taking all of you. Each cry you fuck out of her is music, each one a little higher pitched, a little more desperate than the last.

“This is what you want isn’t it?” You’re demanding of her, even when she’s blubbering, barely able to breathe let alone respond. Just trying to hold on.

But you’re not letting her.

You’re taking her to that place that’s beyond words, that’s beyond thought. The place where all she can do is feel and react. And she’s doing that so beautifully, her body shaking, her cunt quivering around your cock. It’s building and building, the things you’re doing to her, saying to her, making her choke on her own spit, making her eyes roll back and her mouth drop open, until all she can repeat, over and over again is your name.

“Again,” she shapes another word, another plea. She’s a total disaster of need. “Please, again, make me cum again.”

“You'll cum when I say you can,” you growl, forcing her to choke on another whine. The strangled noise goes straight to your cock; makes it throb harder inside her, drive deeper into her. You let go of her hair, only to palm her tit, squeezing into the flesh hard. Giselle jolts, a squeal escaping her lips. “But since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you cum before me again. Just this once. Just because it’s Christmas.”

You’re being evil, you know it, she loves it, but it's the best part. She clearly wouldn't want it any other way.

”Yes.” Giselle’s beaming, shivering with excitement. Getting fucked into utter ruins and thanking you for the privilege. “Thank you, use my pussy, do whatever you want, just let me cum.”

That sparks an idea, “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” Giselle pants, not a single idea of what she’s agreeing to. But maybe that's the whole point. “Anything.”

There’s a grin that splits your face that you can’t help, that you don’t bother suppressing. “I’m not going to ask for permission anymore, Giselle. I’m just going to fuck you the way I want. Make you addicted to my cock. Take you how I want, cum in all your holes, fill you up over and over again.”

Giselle’s eyes go wide, nearly stops breathing entirely. So close. Knowing that the next words out of your mouth are going to decimate her completely.

“Gonna make you start the New Year knocked up.”

She freezes.

“God—” Giselle’s a fucking wreck, on the verge of something explosive, something else entirely. “Oh my God.”

She just needs you to give her that push.

“You love it, don’t you? Being made nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

You’re fucking her too hard, hammering into her too roughly, it’s a wonder that she can even manage a stuttered, “I—I—”

“Fucking say it, Giselle,” you say, “Spit it out.”

It’s too difficult for her to fit the words together, to form her reply, so it means all that more when she manages to tell you. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“Your cum in me. All of it. Until I’m, until I’m—” She’s there, lost in it, in the idea of you ruining her in such a permanent, irreversible way. Or maybe completing her, making her whole, making her perfect for you and only you.

But you’re so close too. Right fucking behind her. All she has to do is say it.

“Until you breed me. Fill me with your cum, give it to me. I need it. Make me your permanent cocksleeve and never let me go. Make me yours—completely, forever yours. Make me your fucking whore.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Hits her like a fucking meteor. Leaping right off the most intense high she’s ever climbed. Bucking and quaking against your bar, your cock still impaled inside her, mercilessly undoing her. It’s nothing short of fucking pornographic, fucking depraved the way it’s destroying her.

Seizing her entire body in pleasure, her nails digging into the wood, scraping up marks that will prove to be a sweet, everlasting reminder of the exact moment she became yours. Fracturing her, breaking her apart into a million tiny pieces and then remaking her all over again as something purely sexual—something that only exists for your satisfaction.

“So fucking good, your cock, God it’s you, just you—” Giselle’s words dissolve into a keening cry that shatters the remaining silence of the bar. “Breeding me so good—”

Nothing short of a miracle that she’s still on her feet, that she can still do anything at all. One last thing she needs to do in the dying embers of her lucidity, one final goal—choke your cock with her cunt, wring you dry, make you flood her with your cum.

“Cum, cum, fill me, breed me, give me your—”

“Take it,” you exhale, “Take it all.”

And it’s Giselle in her entirety that overcomes you, overloading your senses with the pure, distilled feeling of just her. The smell of her sex, her perfume, the feel of her curves, her softness, the perfection that is her pussy, enveloping your cock, drenching it in her wetness. These things that you’ll never, ever be able to forget.

But it's her words that make you erupt.

“Breed me, Daddy!”

You cum deep into Giselle’s pussy.

Buried inside her, rushing white hot, thick and heavy. Ropes and ropes of it, spurting inside her, painting her insides, coating her walls until it’s just sheer heat and you making her whole.

Her cunt’s clenching around you, she’s begging, slurring moans and whimpers that there’s no fucking chance you have of comprehending—just basking in the knowledge that they’re desperate, needy sounds that are all for you.

She can’t keep it all in. But she needs to.

Something knocks the architecture out of her legs, but you’re quick enough to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight, keep her on her feet. Keeping her from collapsing entirely, just letting her pulse around you, clench and quiver.

You’re kissing her into the shoulder, cooing these affirmations, keeping her with you, telling her the truth of it all, “Such a good girl, Giselle. Taking my cum so well.”

Giselle can’t say anything. She sobs. Face buried in her hands. Not from pain, not even close. You’ve never seen pleasure look so much like agony. So much like release.

It’s overwhelming.

You try to make a move, take a step back. But Giselle flexes her cunt, clutching you tighter. Reaches back with her hand for your thigh to stop you.

“Wait,” she whispers. "Not yet. Don't move. Keep your cock inside me. Don't let a single drop get out."

You give her the time, because she’s just so perfect like this. So unfathomably gorgeous, all fucked up and cum-drunk. In ways no one should ever be. Like you’ve torn the wings off an angel, brought her down to Earth and made her yours.

You revel in it.

“Take your time,” you breathe; the exhaustion, the strain, the adrenaline pumping through your veins all coming to a head at once. Keeping your cock plugging up her cunt. Leaving all your cum inside.

Neither of you are moving anywhere. Not until she says so.

Giselle laughs.

“Perfect,” she sighs, voice hoarse and shaky. “I knew it would be perfect. I knew you would ruin me like this. God, I don’t ever want to go back.”

You’re laughing too, harsh, airless chuckles that feel like they’re being torn out of your chest. You twitch your cock inside her. “You think you have a say in the matter?”

“I guess I don’t,” she giggles.

You look around at the scene of the crime, the evidence you've left on her. The marks on her skin, her shoulder, her neck. The ruins of her dress, her panties. The tearing of her stockings. Her tear-filled eyes, her smeared mascara, her drooling lips.

And her cunt, so full of you, so very yours.

It’s barely believable. She may not have burned down the bar, but there’s certainly a fire that’s been set. One that’s not likely to die down anytime soon.

It has you swelling inside her all over again.

Gisele feels it.

“Say,” she starts, wriggling her hips against you, making you groan. “You didn’t have any Christmas plans, right?”

Your hands slip down to her hips, idly massaging into the small of her back. “None at all.”

Giselle’s laughter subsides into a contented exhale, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you with a soft smile. Her hand reaches back, caressing the side of your face. “And the rest of the year?”

“Nothing that can’t be cancelled.”

“Good,” she says, her breath sweet against your cheek. “Cancel them all. Close up for the holidays. Shut all the doors. Stay inside with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And do what?”

“Get to work,” Giselle answers, pulling you into a last kiss, threatening to undo you all over again. “You did promise to knock me up by New Years.”