#that's what the mercenaries are referring to him as

[noneheref]

[ooc; replacement of Flatterbang || Glowing Hope]

Soo... I guess, they're finally ready.

This is...

Swation. They are like a separate demons, yet share one body.

Both use the name "Swation", yet each side could refer to theirselves as colors. "Red" and "Blue".

+ Both.

Faction: Blackrock;

Assigned gear: Body Swap Potion;

Extra gears: Presidential Vampire Slaying Ax, Black Tie Affair Gun;

Height: 5'11" (180 cm);

Age: 26 y.o.;

Goes by He/Them;

Mostly a Phighter, could take a job of mercenary/assassin or mechanic/scientist;

Both barely know each other, only from photos, items and texts written on papers by themselves for each other;

███████ loathes them. Riotgraft is set hostile to them.

★ Red side of Swation.

He's pretty much an extrovert. Being reckless and joyful most of time, not caring for wellbeing much. Sometimes getting into too much fights or causing troubles. He's enthusiastic and optimistic, yet for the spite he finds some enjoyment in torturing others, especially Blue, by suddenly switching to Blue side whenever the situation is nasty. His humor is more sophomoric(childish) and somewhat epigrammatic, droll.

He's more of a Melee side in fights, yet still could use distant attacks, such as throwing ax or using Blue's gun.

He has some bad habits, which hurts the body(Such as inebriation, smoking. Please don't endure those actions yourself, nothing cool in it. Only harm.). Blue doesn't appreciate it.

He has a bad handwriting, so when he tries to communicate with Blue by writing on paper, Blue struggles to read it.

He tends to go overboard with fights, but not always murdering demons to avoid Banlands, but he still gets fined and scolded, if not chased.

But Ban Hammer is still fuming at him for taking merc or assassin jobs.

... he's a bad listener.

★ Blue side of Swation.

A completely opposite of Red, being pessimistic and more collected in situations. He is more leaning on a deadpan and serious side, very introverted and distant. And a lot being irritated and pestered by Red, even without ability of those two to see each other in person. Otherwise, he's less reckless and more cautious, being cynical(or skeptical) and sometimes a bit sardonic, bitter. His humor is more of dry, mordant and highbrow.

He's more of a Ranged side, using his gun for sniping or attacking on distance. He could use close-range attacks, such as whacking with the blunt part of gun or suddenly slashing with Red's axe.

He's against bad habits and very much hates when Red leaves him dealing with inebriated state by using the switch.

He has a good handwriting, which makes Red a bit ticked off, but mostly Red doesn't care most of time.

He does only what necessary, and tries to not go overboard in fights if possible. He doesn't get into fights a lot due to mostly doing job as a scientist.

He's a good listener.

Ban Hammer doesn't hate him much, but mostly hates Red. Yet still both Blue and Red get scolded for "outlawing", due to sharing body. So, both of them will suffer in the cell if caught.

—

Lil drawing of Blue Swation... such a judging stare

[spadefish]

Yoink.

Ashe hasn't shown up in the rp yet but I think it'd be really funny if this is how they met.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

when you can see his eyes behind his shades, I get all 😳

[eternalsunrise]

shower talk.

deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader

wc: 750 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, sexual & murder references (duh)

notes! wade brainrot is so bad idk, logan fic coming soon pls forgive me

wade often barges into the bathroom while you’re in the shower just to sit on the toilet seat and rant about the mission he just went on, or even to ask what takeout you want for dinner. couldn’t it wait until you had clothes on? sure, but he wants to talk to you now.

unexpectedly, you decide to take a page out of his playbook.

you’ve just walked in the door after your 9-5, throwing your keys and bag haphazardly across the room in frustration. you spy the familiar rumpled up red and black suit on the floor, wade was home. you had complained last week about deadpool tracking blood into the apartment after his “work.” it seemed your boyfriend had listened and obliged. if it weren’t for your bad day, the image of him cupping his crotch as he scrambled naked into the bathroom would’ve made you smile.

you hear the water still running, but you finally understand how wade feels, this can’t wait. you open the bathroom door and throw the toilet lid down, unsure if wade even heard you enter over the sound of his own voice belting hall and oates’ greatest hits.

you sit down and let out an overdramatic sigh. your boyfriend’s voice quiets down halfway through “out of touch”

“honey bear? you’re home! these stab wounds will heal in about two minutes then you can join me. i know how you feel about seeing intestines, and i don’t want to make you gag…well scratch that i do sometimes—“

“i fucking hate men.”

you hear the sound of the shower curtain opening slightly, and wade’s head peaks out, looking at you with wide eyes, “woah language, babydoll! you know degradation turns me on.” his head tilts to the side, noticing the distress written on your face “but i have a feeling this isn’t about me…”

you spare him a narrowed glance, then watch as his head disappears. the curtain closes and you hear the water hit skin again as he resumes his shower. he’s giving you time to speak. remarkable.

“you remember that guy i told you about? the one that gave me major creep vibes? and was just an all around dick?”

you get a hum in response, and you can’t see it, but you know wade is physically biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. it’s endearing in a way.

you rub your face with your hands, the memory of what you’re about to say lights the fire of anger again, “well. guess who got that promotion i was being eyed for? i’ll give you a hint, it’s not someone with a vagina! and on top of that, i saw him try to look under my skirt as i was leaving! that fuck.”

you almost regretted telling him that last part, knowing where this was going. but your mind was clouded by frustration, and the water was already turned off. the rings screech against the metal shower rod as wade throws the curtain open, reaching over your head for a towel. “okay sweet thing. where does this cock suck and fuck live?”

your eyes catch a glimpse of red turning pink as it swirled into the tub drain. you shake your head, suddenly realizing the severity of what your mercenary boyfriend was implying. “no no babe please it’s not that serious! and you just got home. not to mention if people found out, you’d get in so much trouble all because of something silly that happened to me and—“

a long finger is placed over your lips. you’re eye level with wade’s v line, partially covered by the towel now wrapped around his waist. you trail your eyes upward, locking them with the one who interrupted your rambling.

“shhh. nonsense kitten. now. you’re going to tell me this guy’s address, and i’m going to go out for…” wade uses his free arm to look at a make believe watch, “hmm, about an hour. while i’m gone, you’re going to change out of this sexy pantsuit. then have a glass of wine, and touch yourself while you think of me fondly. i’ll grab dinner on the way home. yes?”

when you nod with wide eyes in agreement, he removes his finger, bending down to meet your face, “atta girl.” he praises as his lips graze your own, kiss light as a feather. he clears his throat then, patting your cheek a few times as he stands up to walk out of the bathroom. whistling as if murder was all in a day’s work (you suppose for him it is)

you sit there stunned, wondering if you just got your coworker murdered….and why you were so turned on.

[softfem-dom]

the four times they asked about his sidekick, and the one time he realized why. (pt.1)

worst!logan + d&w!deadpool x suicidal!reader

a/n : okay this is sad and emotion-driven asf, so if you're sensitive to suicide mentions or emotional trumoil and problems of self-worth please do not continue reading this. Also warning for suicide description for the other universes' sidekicks. first part out of five!

wc : 2k

TW FOR SUICIDE , TW FOR DEPRESSION , SOFT!WADE , SOFT!WORST!LOGAN , WADE BEING UNABLE TO LOOK AFTER A KID , HEAVY/MULTIPLE BATMAN AND JASON TODD REFERENCES , DEADPOOL VARIANTS FUSSING OVER READER. soft!worst logan . overprotective!deadpool . only-deadpool-still-with-sidekick!wade wilson

Think of Batman and Robin.

Yup. Now turn and twist it around some more and make it.. more chaotic, more unhinged. More morally questionable.

And then think of Deadpool. The merc with a mouth. The dude that chose a red suit just so he didn't have to bother about the red stains.

And then add up a teenager to the recipe. As chaotic as the man, maybe a bit naïver. And you've got Deadpool and his sidekick.

Because if all cool superheros had sidekicks, then Deadpool —albeit while not actively being a superhero. Had to have one too, didn't he?

And that's how you had ended up roped into all of his unethical adventures, killing off the bad guys that had the highest price above their head and helping Deadpool run the official Spideypool fanwebsite.

But, despite how many masks you put on, despite how many bad guys you killed, despite how many times you had saved someone. You were still just you.

A teenager. A teenager paired up with an older, unhinged, mercenary that ran his mouth way too much and that got you into way too much trouble.

A teenager paired up with an irresponsible adult without emotional responsability was the fucking equivalent of throwing a trained lab mouse inside the first maze that didn't have an exist.

Wade cared about you. Yeah, you knew that. But the problem was that you were a teenager and teenagers needed a certain amount of care to grow healthyly.

Because physically you were great, with how much running around and being-at-the-verge-of-death you did. But mentally? God, then you were the messiest mess in the planet.

Spending so much time with someone that had so many intrusive thoughts, that spilled his thoughts without filter, had rubbed off on you.

And sometimes you scared yourself when sudden thoughts popped up in your mind. Like the sudden pull in your legs anytime you walked near the edge of a roof, the "jump!" that flashed across your head. Or the way you wondered, asked yourself, what it would feel to be stabbed when you were cleaning Deadpool's katanas. Or the way you started to throw yourself at danger's way just for the thrill of it. And if you died, well, there went nothing.

It was wrong. It was bad. And it was a totally unhealthy and toxic vice. You knew you were self-destructive.

But you didn't know how to do doing anything about it.

You see, if Deadpool wasn't so reckless and careless maybe you would've told him. But since he did it, you grew into your late teens thinking it was okay.

,,

Lately, your thoughts had grew more dangerous. More specific. And you were starting to get scared of yourself. In movies, that was how villians started —with destructive thoughts. And you didn't want to become a villian.

What would Wade think of you? He'd be disappointed in you, hate your guts, despise you.

So your mind jumped to the quickest—and most self-destructive���conclussion. Offing yourself before that happened.

And you had nearly 10 pages of your pink diary written with ways of carrying on with that plan. Glitter gel pen words scribbled about the knifes in the house—their lengths and sharpness—, about the belts stacked away in Wade's closet, about the height of the fall from the balcony to the ground. You had everything planned.

And Wade hadn't caught onto anything of it, except for the fact you seemed more twitchy and on edge than usual. He tied it to the usual teenage anxiousness that came with your age.

He didn't know this was the last mission he was going to have you in.

,,

He had just brought you along on this 'adventure' just like he had did with all of the ones before, except in this one there was another.. —reluctant—companion.

Logan Howlett. The Wolverine.

And not the dead hero that Wade had unburied a few days before. No. This one was the worst variant of Wolverine in the whole multiverse, the one from the timeline where he killed all of the X-Men.

And that Howlett was smelling something coming.

He could smell the irony scent of blood whafting off of you, a bitter scent choking his airways. Your scent was way too bitter for how cheerful you were, except maybe you weren't.

This Logan had only barely known you for two days, but if something were to happen to you he'd kill the responsible, then find a way to kill the mercenary and then find a way to kill himself too.

But, first. Stop, pause, rewind. How this did even start?

,,

You groaned as you helped Wade drag the uncounscious body of the drunk Wolverine you had found in a random timeline —the only one in which the dude hadn't tried to kill you at first sight. Entering through the door-shaped orange portal to the TVA room.

"one anchor being coming right up!" Wade's voice rang through the air before the merc, fully dressed in his suit, had crossed the portal.

You let out a startled squeak when the antihero pretty much threw the uncounscious body of the Logan on the ground, wincing at the metallic sound of his skull against the floor.

"Wade!" you hissed. "c'mon pumpkin', don't sweat it. He's full metal, remember?" he said as he gave the drunk Logan a kick in the side, the metallic sound echoing his words.

"listen here, babygirl" the merc started, looking at the unimpressed man before him. "this Wolverine has the he-can-do-anything-even-musical-stuff look to him and bonus he's actually wearing the accurate comic costume. So, uh yeah, there, timeline saved"

The silence coming from the dude that had called Wade here in the first place didn't sound too good get it?. And as you sat there, poking the drunk man's face with your index finger while whispering for him to "wake up, Wolvie, rise and shine, wakey wakey?"

"I don't understand"

"You said my, our" he pointed at you "universe is dying because this nutsack died, well, problem solved" he now pointed at Logan.

"oh my god" Paradox breathed out. "you actually think you can replace an Anchor Being with this?"

Oh, great. A rant was comming. Like the ones your mother goes on when you mess up too many times.

"I wouldn't have accepted any other Wolverine BT dubs. But you.. have outdone yourself and brought me the worst Wolverine in the whole multiverse!"

It looked as if the dude's temple vein was going to pop, and you weakly interveened. "what do you mean the worst one..?" you breathed out.

"This Wolverine let down his entire world, he's the stuff of Legend but not in a good way and what he did.. well, some things are just beyond forgiveness"

A beat of silence followed, you knew the Wolverine on the floor had been awake and listening for the whole time. But then, you saw Paradox finally looking at you.

"wait"

"what?"

"is that your little sidekick?"

The incredulous, and cruelly amused, tone of the man in uniform made Wade quirk an eyebrow under his mask.

"yeah, why?"

His words were followed by a booming laugh coming from Paradox. His hand going to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, as chuckle after chuckle it just confused Wade and you even more.

"I can't believe you've still got her"

That was like a titty-flash for Wade, and not the good kind. He stood there, mouth gaping like a fish as he wildly and overexageredly gestured towards you.

"I gave you a chance at greatness, because my superiors deemed you special. But, I did my duty. I gave you the opportunity and you refused, so there's no more bussiness to do here"

And with that, and a strange remote control in his hand, he pressed a button and zapped you three off to somewhere. Leaving Wade with a strange taste lingering in his mouth.

Well, at least it seemed like your last adventure wasn't going to be boring.

(tags : @coocoocachewgotscrewed , @lokisloverisnthere , @krowsfoot , @lizziegraysworld , @r0reep , @beelzel-brat ).

[aquaticmercy]

Dangerous Game

Summary : Bucky Barnes is dating a trigger-happy antihero, and she has him wrapped around her finger. She’s just Bucky’s pretty girl, and he lets her get away with everything.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x antihero!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Violence. Blood. Cursing. Sexual References.

Requested by : anon

Word count : 1.9k

Note : This was a very interesting prompt to write to, and I hope I’ve done it justice. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

The fine rain splashed softly against the warehouse rooftop, a soothing backdrop to the mission that Bucky Barnes was on. The dim light flickered overhead, casting shadows across the grimy concrete floor. 

Bucky was crouched behind a stack of crates, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room. He could hear the muffled sounds of conversation and laughter of the filthy men inside the building.

They were mercenaries that would sell their services to the highest bidder. They were the kind of low-life that made Bucky’s skin crawl. 

His mission was simple: infiltrate, gather intel, and get out. 

As always, he wasn't alone. 

You were by his side, a vision of chaos so beautifully wrapped in leather, sporting an unapologetic smile. 

You weren't an Avenger, and you would never be.

Sam had seen your… trigger happy tendencies. It unnerved him, uneased him. The thought that Bucky was dating you, sharing his life with you, was… interesting, to say the least.

Sam didn't say anything to his friend though, because he could see how much happier Bucky was with you. Sometimes he wondered if your tendency for violence made Bucky feel normal in comparison.

Maybe that was exactly what he needed out of a relationship. 

But it didn’t matter if Sam liked you or not. You didn’t need to be an Avenger. You didn’t want to be an Avenger. You thrived in the shadows, as a vigilante with an ever growing lust for destruction. You had your own friends, a tight knit circle that included the likes of Wade Wilson and Frank Castle.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you said, your voice low but filled with playful mischief. You brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, looking over your shoulder at Bucky with a happy glint in your eye. A little too happy for what you’re about to do. “You keep watch while I have a little fun.”

Bucky’s heart raced. “Be careful.”

You giggled at his adorable worry. Looking out for your wellbeing, that’s cute.  

Bucky knew you didn’t take any threats, or any enemy seriously. With a wink, you slipped through the doorway, leaving him to wonder just how far you would go to get the job done.

Inside, the mercenaries lounged, oblivious to the danger creeping closer. You moved like a shadow before drawing the attention of the men with your bold confidence. You were bathing the thrill of the hunt, and they were your prey. 

As Bucky waited, he leaned against the crates, thoughts drifting to the strange affection he had for you. You were a puzzler. A beautiful, deadly enigma. 

On the surface, you wore a facade of charming quirkiness, a blend of laughter and warmth that captivated everyone around you. You would go to your favourite bookshop weekly, making fast friends with everyone who worked there. You have always tipped generously in your favourite coffee shop. You bought boxes and boxes of pizza every once in a while to feed the homeless around the city. You baked cookies for your neighbour’s kids regularly. 

Beneath that, however, lurked a dark side. You had a craving for violence that made even Bucky, a man with a history of bloodshed, question your sanity. 

Sure, you had a very strong moral code, stronger than even the most reinforced vibranium. 

You would never harm an innocent soul, not even in the heat of battle. Every life you took was carefully considered, weighed against the countless innocent lives snuffed out by those mercenaries and criminals you hunted. It was the reason you had earned his admiration.

After all, when he first met you, you were so determined to slit his throat and hack him into pieces.

Back then, you had heard about The Winter Soldier, the Hydra agent who had killed with no remorse. When you tracked him down that day, he was nothing more than another target you needed to get rid of.

Your mind was set, your instincts primed to take him out. But as you confronted him, something shifted in the air. He had given you a fight, the first time anyone could even go toe to toe with you in a while.

Somehow, you were not beyond reason.

He explained himself, sharing the horrific truths of his past—the mind control, the manipulations, the guilt that haunted him. 

In that moment, the unyielding resolve that had guided you faltered. You realised that Bucky was not the monster that his files had painted him out to be; he was a man seeking redemption for sins he didn’t choose.

Your moral code did not let you kill him.

Still, that day, as you looked into his blue eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of attraction. With your unfiltered, charming, bluntness you had said, “You’re hot. How about we grab a drink sometime?”

Bucky hadn’t known why he said yes that day, but now he can confidently say that was the best decision he had ever made.

He just loved you. God, did he love you. Even as he stood there, knowing he should be concerned about how you go about dealing out your brand of justice, all he could think of was how you made him feel alive again.

A crash interrupted his thoughts. He heard the sound of furniture against the wall, followed by a series of panicked shouts. Bucky’s heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins. He peeked through the doorway, watching as you unleashed brute force at the mercenaries, your movements a blur of lethal elegance. 

You were toying with them, a wicked smile plastered on your face as you dealt with them one by one.

“Hey, Bucky!” you called, laughter in your voice. “I’m on a roll!”

“Keep it contained!” he yelled back. A part of him wanted to join in, to keep you safe, to protect you, but he knew that you were more than fine on your own. 

Besides, you were unpredictable enough without him diving in and interrupting your method.

Bucky once again turned his ear to the entrance. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of punches landing, blades slicing, screams muffled by the loud creaking sound of breaking bones, and the violent thuds of bodies hitting the ground. It was a brutal symphony, and he did not know if it thrilled or terrified him.

As time passed, the shouts and laughter of your madness echoed through the building. Finally, it went silent. He took a deep breath and prepared to step inside.

Had you really taken out everyone in there? 

As he stepped through the doorway, his lungs felt like it was about to collapse. The sight before him was fucking mesmerising and horrifying. The twenty mercenaries lay scattered across the room, their bodies twisted and broken. Blood pooled beneath them, the once-quiet warehouse now a scene of carnage. 

You stood in the centre, breathing heavily, your bloody sword in hand. You wore a triumphant grin that made your eyes sparkle with sheer delight. You were like a painter showcasing your masterpiece.

Bucky’s heart raced—not entirely out of fear, but something more complicated. 

“Bucky! Look!” You spun around, beaming with joy, your leather jacket blood red with the remnants of your work. “I cleared the place out!”

“What the fuck…” Bucky whispered, staring in disbelief at the scene. The chaos, the brutality—it was all so casual for you, just another Wednesday night. “You killed them all?”

You giggled, shrugging your shoulders as if it were the most mundane task in the world. “You said we needed intel, and I figured this was a more efficient method. We can now just raid their files! Plus,” you added, your tone light and teasing, “they were so rude. Did you hear what they called me?”

Bucky shook his head, trying to process what had just happened. It was shocking, and yet, he couldn't deny the flutter in his chest as he watched you admiring the efficiency of your work. Your beauty had always been magnetic, but this? This was something else entirely.

And somehow, it only made him want you more.

“Insane,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You’re insane.”

You laughed again, and it was bright and intoxicating. You filled the dim warehouse with a sense of warmth. “I prefer ‘eccentric,’ actually.”

Bucky shook his head. His heart was racing as he moved closer to you, trying not to step at a severed hand or a disembodied head. “You’re not afraid of any of this?”

“Of what? Killing them?” You shrugged, stepping over a fallen body with ease. “They had it coming the second they killed the little girl down the road. You know that.” 

This mission was brought to your attention when this group of mercs had shot an heiress of a financial empire. She was only six years old, and she had bled to death in the middle of the night in her bedroom, alone and scared. 

He should’ve known by the look in your eyes that day that you were going to make them pay for it.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of admiration and dread. “I didn’t realise just how much of a loose cannon you really are.”

Your smile softened, and you took a step toward him. You sheathed your sword back. “I’m your loose cannon.”

“You’ve got to be more careful,” he said, but could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips. You were reckless, undeniably dangerous, but there was something about you that held him captive. Still, his voice did not waver. “This isn’t a game, doll.”

“Oh, Bucky, but it is!” You laughed, the sound infectious. “Life is a game, and we’re just playing by our own rules. Besides, they’re bad guys. No one will miss them, anyway.”

Your logic echoed in his mind, making him realise just how twisted you truly were. He wondered, for a second, if this act was a coping mechanism to offload all the killing you thought you had to do. 

“I swear, one of these days, I’m going to have to rein you in,” he said, even though you could hear the affection lacing his words. Despite the madness, despite the horror of the moment, he found himself smiling at you, drawn by the way you lit up even the darkest of situations. “But maybe not today.”

You stepped back, feigning a dramatic sigh. “You sure you don’t want to keep me on a leash, Sarge?” 

“Maybe,” Bucky had a sly, flirty grin on his face. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “but not here.”

“Oh?” You asked, a wild gleam in your eye. 

His touch crumbled under your gaze, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief and seduction. You were his pretty girl, no matter how bloody and bruised. 

You closed the distance, your lips crashing against his in a heated kiss that sent fireworks exploding behind his eyes. Bucky’s hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as he melted into your arms. You tasted like exhilaration and danger, a combination that left him breathless.

You activated something so primal in him, and he couldn’t help but moan against your lips, losing himself in the taste of you. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured when he finally pulled away, his breath hot against your ear as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of blood, sweat, and perfume.

“I know.” You giggled, playful as ever. “And you’re my handsome soldier, aren’t you?”

“Always,” he replied, the word spilling from his lips without a fraction of a thought. 

You had him so hopelessly wrapped around your little finger, and he was more than willing to let you lead him wherever your heart desired. 

And that was a dangerous game.

-end

[ferritins]

IN A STITCH, IN A PINCH | J. TODD

SUMMARY: you’ve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but you’re not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.

WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.

NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.

After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.

What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.

You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.

However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.

It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.

Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.

Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.

The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.

Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.

Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.

You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening — just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add — but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.

You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.

It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.

"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.

You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.

Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."

You look up from Jason's side.

"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but it–"

"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.

"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."

Roy's brows tighten further.

"Jason doesn't do opiates."

"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.

You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.

The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.

When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.

"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."

Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.

Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.

He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.

Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.

"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."

You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."

As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.

When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.

Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.

Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment — settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour —and though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.

It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.

Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.

He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.

(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.

He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.

Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.

He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.

It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.

Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.

Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.

Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.

The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your décolletage, the curve of your hip.

He presses his eyes shut tightly.

He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.

God, he wants–

"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.

He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.

"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."

(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.

"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")

[celaenaeiln]

Something fanon gets wrong

Dick Grayson is genuinely one of the greatest fighters in all of DC.

I know people have trouble believing this for some reason but a man who has defeated every single one of his enemies, other people’s enemies, and has consistently come out on top should have his abilities talked about a bit more because they’re amazing.

Let's start small to big. Firstly Donna talks about Nightwing's abilities.

When I read this I was confused by what she meant. Prowess means skill or expertise and that makes sense but Dick has a lot of power behind him though...

And then I realized she meant metaphysical power.

Dick isn't a magician. He can't run at supersonic speeds, throw buildings, speak to animals, communicate with the dark, fly above the clouds, bounce bullets off his chest (Oh, wait. He can do it off his ass instead never mind), turn into animals, or other amazing abilities. But his skill is so high that he is easily able to keep up with people who can.

M'gann, the white martian with extraordinary capabilities, tells Dick, "You are just a human, with no superpowers, yet you have consistently excelled throughout your career, despite being surrounded by godlike beings."

This is incredible.

We see Dick leading teams of superheroes and metas all the time and we take it for granted but we never acknowledge the immense power and skill he must have for him to be able to do this.

Repeatedly. Time after time. He outsmarts both his human allies and outfights his meta ones.

One of Dick’s greatest OP moments is when he takes down the entire Titans team -Gar, Raven, Donna, and Jason too when he hung around with them- single handedly. And when Jason put a gun to the back of his head in supposed victory, Dick opened his hand to let the golden bullets fall, gleaming in the light with the coldest line, “with these bullets?”

We all know how amazing Bruce is, but Dick is on Bruce's level.

No?

Okay, here's the evidence.

Dick has fought Azael in a sword fight to a standstill when Azael has beaten Bruce separately and Tim and Jason combined.

He has defeated Ra's in a sword fight and Ra's is one of the greatest swordsmen.

Sometimes he doesn't even need a sword to defeat a skilled swordsman.

He's a League of Assassins member and we all know that anyone from the League of Assassins is never just good. They're excellent. The entire fight Dick is looking for Blockbuster and he's so capable and good at fighting the entire scene was like watching Thanos flick Captain America away vibes. He's not even looking at him when he smashes his foot into Shrike's face!

Most importantly, he has defeated Deathstroke

The greatest thing about Dick is he is able to defeat Slade at the peak of Slade's abilities. Slade doesn't need to be weakened for Dick to win.

Here's where people has some hesitance accepting Dick's abilities.

"Bruce has defeated Slade but Dick has never been able to!"

He literally has in Dark Crisis but I'll give you the lead up.

Dick can easily disarm Slade.

He can predict Slade's moves ahead of time and properly counteract them.

He can go toe to toe with him and in one comic, they dance down a hallway, fighting, neither able to get the upper hand. The mercenary meta, considered by the US Government to be 1 of 2 greatest assassins (the other being Katana) isn't able to pin down and defeat a 20 year old despite his enhancements.

I left out the scene where Dick twisting Deathstroke's arm and smashing his face into a bedroom mirror despite being complete weaponless and in his civilian identity. No protection and no support. But it's another example of how Dick's poweress is much greater than people expect of him.

Of course there are panels where Dick has been defeated by Slade but Dick isn't 17/18 anymore. He isn't learning to fight without Batman hovering over his side.

Also there is a panel everyone references to when talking about Nigthwing losing to Deathstroke. This one.

sure. okay. whatever. BUT WHY WON'T YOU SHOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT COWARDS?!?

THEY DANCE-FIGHT LIKE THEY'RE ENEMIES IN A BALLROOM ON OPPOSING SIDES BUT CAN'T AFFORD TO LET ANYONE FIND OUT.

THIS IS SOME HIGH LEVEL JAMES BOND-RED NOTICE-MISSION IMPOSSIBLE- TYPE SHIT.

"Close the hold, you morons! Close the--Guuk!"

That's Slade talking by the way. To his allies. Who do you think made him "GUUK!"?

And here they were evenly matched.

But Slade had to pull out bombs he had been saving for when other people came in order to defeat dICK AND HE STILL LOST BECAUSE DICK BESTED HIM.

Yup. Dick is just that good.

Nightwing defeated Bane

Before you go into saying something like "it was a holographic construction." What the fuck difference does that make? Does a holographic construction alter the strength used by the enemy, change their fighting style, phase through when fighting, act dumber than the real deal? No, right? The fact is Dick broke Bane's back the exact same manner that Bane broke Batman's. All those scenes of Bane punching Nightwing around? Let me remind you that the guy snuck up on Dick. The second time Dick underestimated Bane's powers before getting ready to put in real effort before Batman interfered to take Bane for himself.

All those amazing scenes of him defeating enemies that we've scoffed at recently? They're just a continuation of what already is written. It's not new or unbelievable, it's expected.

Here's my final point. Dick has defeated all of the Justice League's enemies in one go.

This is Batman/Superman comic where Kara gets infected so Dick as Batman sends her to the medbay while he tears down the Watchtower to save her. As in every single defense mechanism the Watchtower has, he demolishes it with his pure skill and abilities. Furthermore, the Watchtower defenses were enhanced by cyborg Superman to be lethal. To kill on sight.

Just. Phenomenal.

He did it! He defeated all of them and made it to the electronic controls he was aiming for.

Another thing I want to point is Dick's strength is greater than what people assume it to be.

He's the world's greatest acrobrat and has a build fitting of that but the strength he packs in his body is equal to that of a meta. Maybe it's because of how he only fights with metas and has teammates that are all metas but he has raised his striking power to equal that.

He shatters cyborg superman in one blow.

He can handle blows from meta humans in a way most others can't which suggests to me that he must've done some kind of training or have maybe increased pain tolerance or have the ability to backseat the pain so it won't affect his fighting. How many can take a hit and rise up the next second?

He's not metahuman. Batman must've done several tests because he also was amazed by robin Dick's poweress lol but really Dick is just extraordinary. Give him any enemy and he will garaunteed defeat them without using cheap tricks or surprise moves which is why he is one of the greatest. The only time people have gotten an upperhand on him is when he has been emotionally weakened. Emotionally. Imagine the absolute monster he would be if he controlled his emotions like Batman.

But I would never want him to though because his emotions are the reason why he's the light of DC.

[leonsdolly]

Cherry Pies

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader x Ashley Graham

Synopsis: You propose the idea of a threesome to your boyfriend, but you accidentally get your feelings hurt during the act.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, threesome, ddlg/daddy kink, oral (both male and female receiving), face-sitting, unprotected sex, creampie, cum-eating, fingering, jealousy, implied age gap (mid 20s, early 40s)

WC: 4.5k

If there’s one thing you cherish in life, it’s Leon’s propensity for spoiling you. There’s no end to his love for his cute girlfriend; he’ll do anything for you, and if that means listening to you prattle on about your coworkers’ nightmare hookups or assembling a cozy country cottage for your Sylvanian families, so be it. He’ll swallow all reservations, not that he has any, for the sake of keeping his baby happy. He’s made it known that you’re the best thing that's ever happened to him, all pink and saccharine, like a sugar plum fairy. However, your latest request has him raising an eyebrow.

“Are you sure about this, babydoll?”

“Sure I’m sure!” Your eyes twinkle with excitement as you plop yourself on his lap with your arms around him. “I’ve always wanted to try it… and you like Ashley, right? You said she’s my only friend whose perfume doesn't make you sneeze.”

“Oh right,” Leon thinks back to the friend you’re referring to. He’s only met her once, but he seemed to approve of your friendship. She was well-mannered and indulged in your dramatic retellings of everyone else’s lives for him when he was just too busy licking the government’s bootstraps. “You sure you’re okay with this, baby? Won’t get jealous?” His voice is teasing but a glimmer of truth peeks out. You almost clawed his eyes out when he wolf-whistled at a character from one of the video games you played - the female mercenary in red. Your gel manicure (procured on his dime, of course) was fresh at the time and was the only thing preventing you from expressing your displeasure.

“Gosh, just let me have this, Daddy…” You give him the most precious puppy dog eyes you can muster.

“I’m just looking out for you, sweet girl.” He touches his forehead against yours so that he’s gazing straight into your eyes. “You can get feisty sometimes, you sure you won’t mind if I have my tongue in another girl’s pussy?”

His words deliver a current straight to your core like an electrode is attached to your clit. You lean in closer to nip at his lips, swiping your tongue across them. He chuckles and presses against you for a proper sloppy kiss, intertwining his tongue with yours. You slowly grind your hips against his lap, feeling his cock harden beneath you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, caressing your back and slinking forward to squeeze your tits as he continues to lap into your mouth.

“What if we didn’t fuck until then?” You cease all movement and pull back, causing him to chase your pretty lips with a slight frown.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, doll.”

“No, it'll be fun!” Your eyes glint with mischief. “No sex until then. That way, you can channel all of that pent up energy into fucking Ashley and I properly.” 

“Baby, I’m already energetic when it comes to fucking you properly no matter how many times we do it.” He moves to kiss you again, but you dodge and press your finger against his lips.

“You’re just gonna blueball me?” His offended tone makes you giggle as you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest.

“There's more to a relationship than sex, y’know.” You’re laying it on real thick at this point; it's utter shit coming out of your mouth, you know it, he knows it, and it's amusing all the same.

“Mhm, I know the girl who cries when my cock isn't in her mouth isn't saying this.”

“Daddy!” You tilt your head up, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’m just saying. You know I’ll do anything for you, baby. If this is what you want, so be it. Just don't be surprised if I blow my load in two seconds flat and embarrass you in front of your friend.” He nuzzles against your hairline.

“You’re being dramatic,” you roll your eyes and hug him tighter.

T-Minus 3 days.

You shoo Leon away when his hands glide under your skirt in an attempt to touch your pussy.

T-Minus 2 days.

You send Leon a picture of your bare tits, nipples perky through the screen.

T-Minus 1 day.

You let Leon fuck his fist with your used panties wrapped around his cock.

D-Day.

Ashley comes over, all smiles and chirps while Leon is still away at work. The two of you gossip about everything and everyone over delicate glasses of chardonnay while occasionally brushing against each other’s bare legs. You’re clad in a white lacy bra with pale pink trim and white panties with a dainty bow in the same shade of pink - Leon’s favorite colors on you. Ashley wears a matching set in baby blue that brings out her eyes - your favorite color on her. You giggle as you do each other’s hair and makeup to perfection.

“Perfect,” you smile as you playfully tap the blush brush on her button nose. “My daddy likes blush on girls.”

Ashley giggles at this as she runs a hand over your bare thigh. “We’re gonna make Daddy so happy.” Oh God, she's a natural at this - you didn't need to coach her through the dynamics of your relationship with Leon. She knew exactly what to say and how to act - the perfect daddy’s girl. You chose her for a reason after all.

You head to the bed where you curl up against each other to wait for Leon’s homecoming. Ashley looks awfully pretty in the ambient glow of your bedside lamp - shiny blonde hair, smooth skin, cute tits that stand on their own without much help from a push-up bra. Oh, Leon’s going to eat her up. You mentally give yourself a pat on the back as you brush your lips against hers. She kisses you back, and your hand comes up to tweak at her perky nipple through the delicate lace of her bra. You press your breasts against hers as you both moan quietly into each other's mouths. The feeling of her tits rubbing against yours makes your thighs clench together - your pussy’s wet, and your boyfriend isn't even here yet.

Your kisses grow more heated as you continue to rub against each other. Her lips are so much softer than the ones you’re accustomed to, and they taste like cherry pies. You marvel at the way her tongue softly glides against yours like molten candy. You’re so invigorated by the sensation that you fail to hear the front door of your apartment unlocking and Leon’s familiar footsteps making their way to the bedroom.

By the time he reaches the bedroom, he's gobsmacked by the sight of his pretty baby having a makeout session with another pretty baby. You and Ashley finally pull away from each other to gaze up at him through subtle glittery eyeshadow and false lashes. “How was work, Daddy?” You crawl towards him, letting him catch a good view of your breasts, before kneeling at the foot of the bed where you reach your grabby hands out for him.

“Work was work,” he sighs contentedly as he takes your hands and bends down to kiss your forehead lovingly. You both look towards Ashley who’s observing your affections shyly from the corner of the bed. Leon smiles and reaches his hand out for her, urging her to join you in front of him. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Once she has the green light, she crawls over so that she’s perched prettily on her knees next to you. He places a hand on your cheek, caressing it tenderly before using his other hand to do the same to Ashley. He bends down to plant a kiss on your lips and repeats the gesture with her. “My pretty girls,” he murmurs as his gaze grows heavy with desire.

His words and actions ignite the flame deep inside your core, and you can tell they’re having the same effect on Ashley. You start to palm him through his jeans, admiring the bulge that’s developing in front of your very eyes. You turn to Ashley with a giggle. “Daddy’s cock’s really nice… S’like, actually fun to suck.”

“Really?” Her eyes brighten as she beams up at Leon before helping you unbuckle his belt and slide his jeans down, revealing his hard cock. “Oh…!” She lets out a squeak. “You weren’t kidding…”

Your hand comes up to gently stroke his length as you pepper the tip in sweet kisses until precum’s beading from it. His eyebrows knit together as he inhales sharply. “Here, try it,” you giggle as you lift your head to let Ashley have a taste. She suckles on the head for a bit before you gently guide her head down his thick length. Her head bobs up and down while Leon groans in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re just as good of a cocksucker as my baby is, huh, sweetheart?” Her response is warbled around his cock as she sucks more enthusiastically at his praise. She finally pulls off, leaving a string of spit connecting her to his sticky tip. It’s broken once you kiss her hungrily, savoring the taste of your boyfriend on her cherry flavored lips. 

“My turn, Daddy,” you sing-song as you open your mouth wide for him, making him guide his heavy cock inside and down your throat. You’re used to him, and your throat welcomes the familiar sensation as it clenches salaciously around his length. His grunts grace your ears, and you do your best to gaze up at him through your lashes - even though you’re used to it, the teary eyes and quiet gags always make their presence known.

“Good girl, my baby,” he breathes as you pull off of his cock leaving just the tip in your mouth. Ashley joins in, sloppily kissing and licking the side of his cock as you work the tip before mimicking her actions on the other side. You both giggle as you move up and down in tandem, sending vibrations through his body. He moans loudly as you slobber all over his fat cock before meeting each other’s lips at the tip where you hungrily lap at each other’s mouths.

Leon takes a small step back, gently pulling both of you off. “As much as I’d love to cum on my pretty girls’ faces right here, I don’t want to blow my load that quick.” He slips off his shirt and moves to lay down flat on the bed where he beckons you over to him for a kiss. As he intertwines his tongue with yours, he undoes the clasp on your bra, leaving your tits bare for him. Ashley shimmies over to squeeze them before licking at one of your pert nipples. Leon moves to take the other in his mouth, and you mewl at the sensation of both your breasts being sucked on. Your clit throbs underneath your panties, begging to be touched, so you oblige, snaking your fingers south to rub at it. 

“D-do you want Daddy’s cock or his mouth, Ash?” You moan as you try to gather yourself and prepare for the next course of action.

A blush crosses her already blushing cheeks as she chirps without any hesitation. “Mouth! Is that okay, Daddy?”

“Sure, come up here, sweetheart,” Leon has to grip the base of his leaking cock as he swears he could almost cum on the spot at the sound of you two deciding where to park your pretty pussies on him.

You help Ashley slip off her panties before she clambers over Leon to slowly position her dripping pussy over his face. He groans at the sight as he takes reign of her hips and guides her directly onto his waiting mouth.

“F-fuck,” her eyes immediately flutter at the sensation of his tongue lapping at her glistening folds. “Your daddy sure knows how to eat puss-” she lets out a high-pitched whine as his lips wrap around her dainty clit, sucking on it the way a real man should. Her moans are cute, endearing really. They’re melodious, her very own aria accompanied by Leon’s groans muffled into her cunt.

“Isn’t he the best?” You smile at Ashley’s nipple, her right tit is starting to free itself from her bra with all the thrashing she’s doing on your daddy’s face. You lean over to give her a giant smooch on the lips before sliding your own panties off and moving down to position yourself over Leon’s hard cock. Your poor daddy has been humping the air this whole time in an effort to chase some pleasure of his own - not that pussy-eating isn’t one of his favorite pastimes. You drag your pussy over his cock, letting your juices lubricate it properly, though it’s leaking so much on its own that the action is needless.

As you sink down completely on his fat cock, your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of him stretching you open. While your pussy’s been trained to take this cock, the initial fit still requires some acclimation on your part. Kisses from Leon also help, but he’s a bit preoccupied with handing those out to Ashley’s little hole.

Leon’s moans reverberate through Ashley as you start to bounce up and down on his cock, meeting the firm muscle of his thighs with your plush asscheeks.

“How does it feel?” Ashley whines as the two of you reach for each other’s hands, interlacing your fingers together for support.

“S-so good,” you gaze at her with a heavy lidded expression as Leon plants his feet on the bed so he can drill his cock up into you harder, making you almost topple over. “Daddy! S’too much!”

He chuckles, and it’s like the vibrations are transmitted directly through Ashley’s tits and received by your mouth as your tongue laves over her exposed right nipple. You pull the rest of her bra down so you can wrap your lips around the neglected left one. You kiss each of her tits one last time before trailing your kisses northbound to her collarbones, then to her neck, to her jaw, to her soft lips.

“Oh God,” she cries against your lips. “Gonna cum, oh my goodness-” Leon’s obscene slurping intensifies as she whines louder before cumming all over your daddy’s face. Her face is cute as she cums, eyes crossing dumbly and pretty pink mouth forming an O shape.

Ashley shakily climbs off of Leon’s face as she watches the two of you fuck through the post-orgasm haze. You bend down to kiss Leon as he pounds into you, tasting Ashley’s pussy juices on his lips. “You taste so good, Ash…”

The blonde smiles wide, going loopy over your words and Leon’s tongue. You straighten up and lean back slightly so that your hands are anchored onto Leon’s thighs as he jackhammers up into you. “F-fuck, Daddy!”

“My beautiful girl,” he groans through his thrusts. “So cute, falling apart on my cock just like that. Look at those perfect titties bounce. Daddy loves watching you get fucked like this.” Your eyes tear up as the head of his cock continues to hit the jackpot inside you. Ding, ding, ding! Your moans grow erratic as you feel the build up in your tummy begin to consume you. Leon feels the familiar clench of your cunt, he knows his baby’s about to make a mess for him.

“Daddy, I-I…” You’re blubbering as the feeling in your tummy snaps, and you cum all over the cock that continues to pummel into you. He pulls you down to press kisses to your swollen lips and flushed cheeks as he admires your fucked out expression. He slows his thrusts down until his hips are still against yours.

Ashley pokes at your arm, giggling at your dopey smile. Her clit was throbbing while she watched you take Leon’s cock, and now it’s demanding the special treatment. She’s raring to go for another round, and Leon still hasn't finished yet. You swap places with her - you lounge on your side as your chest rises and falls from your previous orgasm. Ashley lays on her back as Leon hovers over her, spreading her plush thighs open so that he can slot his cock inside her twitching hole. The two of them moan in unison as he bullies his way inside and starts pumping in and out of her sloppy cunt.

“That’s some good pussy,” Leon groans as he leans down to kiss her feverishly through his thrusts. Ashley mewls into his mouth as she claws at his back with her acrylics, leaving scratches that would surely be visible tomorrow. It’s a wonder one didn't snap off. 

“Daddy!” She whines as the slapping of his balls against her ass echoes through the room. “You're gonna make me cum all over again… Can't wait to squirt all over your big dick this time.” 

He chuckles at this as he pinches her nipples. “Is that right? Gonna let Daddy cream this pussy?” Okay, it’s getting weird. He leans down to touch his forehead against hers. What the hell?

Your chest tightens at the sight though you shake your head, chastising yourself for feeling the familiar pit of jealousy brewing in your gut. You wanted this! Leon had raised his concerns over whether you would be alright with this arrangement, and you had insisted that it was what you wanted. You had reassured him that your possessive streak wouldn't rear its ugly head. Your brows furrow together as your bottom lip involuntarily juts itself into your signature pout as you watch them continue to kiss. You’re not being fair - you know that much; these are two people who are significant to you. They agreed to this because they thought it would make you happy. Do they have to look at each other so fucking tenderly? You trust them, love them, and now you’re about to set the entire apartment building on fire, trapping all of you in the flames of your hysteria.

The safe word you and Leon had decided on a long time ago bubbles on your lips, threatening to pop out any second now, commanding a halt to the evening’s activities. You’re an insecure little brat who spends her days whining for Leon’s attention like a mutt with serious anxious attachment issues. “Bingo…”

The second the word reaches his ears, Leon’s tapping Ashley’s thigh gently as he ceases his thrusting.

“Sorry, sweetheart… I need to check on my girl.” He pulls out of her squelching pussy with a grunt as he turns his attention towards you, taking you in his arms. “Everything okay, baby?” He strokes your hair as he kisses the top of your head. You sniffle as you shake your head.

Poor Ashley’s still lying on her back, legs spread for the world as she processes what just happened. She props herself up on her elbows and looks at you with the gaze of a friend who genuinely cares for your well-being. Both their looks of concern make you feel like a real insecure bitch, dramatizing your grievances as usual. 

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice floats over to you, increasing your guilt by tenfold.

Leon’s rubbing your back and whispering sweet words in your ear as he patiently waits for you to articulate the reason for your distress. You cling to him, burying your face in his chest before finally looking up at him in shame. 

“Didn’t… didn’t like seeing you guys like that…”

His expression is a mixture of guilt and confusion, but he doesn't seem completely surprised. He continues to stroke your hair soothingly as he speaks. “Baby, I thought you said this was going to be alright with you?”

“I-I…” Your eyes narrow in frustration, and your cheeks flush from the embarrassment of feeling a tantrum coming on in front of Ashley.

“You’re okay, no one’s mad at you,” he continues to reassure you by using his low, tender tone that was reserved only for you. “Use your words babydoll, help me understand what's going on in that pretty little head.”

You take a deep breath as you look into the eyes that know you better than anyone else, always analyzing your innermost thoughts. “F-fucking was fine, but holding and kissing each other like that is too much for me. You were looking at her like she's your baby.” You abandon all control of maintaining composure; accusatory whines are apparently spilling out of your mouth before your brain can even process them.

Leon freezes for a moment before letting out a singular sigh. “Doll, you’re my one and only baby… You’re always gonna be mine. I’m so sorry that I made you feel otherwise… Promise neither of us were thinking that.”

You drop your head down and keep it buried in his chest. You continue to cling to him, refusing to look at him but not wanting to let him go at the same time. A pang shoots through his heart as he ruminates over his actions. He continues using his gentle voice while tightening his arms around you. “Baby… My sweet girl… Guess we got a little carried away. Swear on my life I’d never want to do anything to hurt you.”

Ashley’s been observing your interactions quietly with a guilty expression. She sits up fully to reach her hand out so that she’s rubbing your shoulder gently. “I’d never do anything to hurt you… You’re my friend, and I love you lots… Pinky promise we weren't acting that way ‘cause we want each other or anything like that… Was just going along with the groove we set up at the beginning… Daddy and his girls….” She lets out a nervous chuckle as she bites her lip worriedly.

You turn your head slightly to peek out at her. “S’okay, Ash.” You can’t stay mad at her, she’s just too sweet and only wants to make her friend happy. You can't fault her for any of this, it just doesn’t feel right. So you focus your sour attitude onto Leon - after all, he’s the one who should’ve known how to conduct the situation appropriately, right? He's the one who shouldn't have flirted with the idea of cumming inside another girl while gazing into her eyes, right? Of course Ashley wouldn't have been able to think straight with a big dick like that scrambling her guts.

You push against Leon, trying to pry yourself from his arms, but he keeps his hold firm around you despite your anguish. “You're not getting away from me until I make this right, angel.”

“Don't wanna be near you,” your huff is slightly muffled as you continue to struggle.

“Baby.” Hurt seeps into his voice. “Please don't say that. I told you I was sorry. Look at me, sweet girl.”

You continue frowning into his solid chest. He keeps holding you close to him, doting on you like a little lamb - sweet nothings being whispered into your ear, kisses being dropped all over your head. He caresses your face, strokes your hair, rubs soothing circles all over your back, murmurs words of reassurance and love. The whole works, really.

Despite his loving actions, you continue to grumble against him like an agitated kitten. He never relents - he meant what he said, he's not letting go of you until he makes amends.

“My perfect baby, don't you know I love you more than anything in the world? Silly girl. You know I’d lay my life down for you without a second thought.”

He continues to coo and kiss at you until you’re back to melting in his arms. You finally look up at him with glassy eyes and a perpetual pout. “You really mean all that?”

“Of course I do.” He sighs heavily. “I should’ve made sure we established boundaries before starting this, honey. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“S’okay,” your voice wavers as you reach up to paw at his stubbled jaw. He kisses you, channeling all of his devotion to you through his lips.

“C’mon, dollface. This ain’t over yet.” He gently maneuvers you so that you’re laying flat on the bed next to Ashley. You reach out to lace your fingers through hers as she brushes her hair out of your face and presses a sugary kiss to your cheek. Both of you are spread-eagle for him, tits squished against each other as you wait for him to finish what he started.

He pushes his hard cock into you as his head falls back, relishing in the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down around him. He begins to rut into you, holding one of your legs in place against his shoulder while the other hand wanders over to Ashley’s cunt to rub at her clit. He strokes her clit for a while before plunging two fingers into her sopping hole. His fingers move in tandem with the way his cock pumps relentlessly in and out of you. You and Ashley moan into each other’s mouths as Leon groans and thrusts even faster at the sight of you two making out while he drives you both closer to your pleasure.

“C-can we do this again, Daddy?” You break from the kiss to look up at Leon with hazy eyes and your tongue lolling out.

“Yeah, can we,  Daddy?” Ashley looks up at him with the same fucked out expression.

“Of course we can,” Leon grins down at the two of you. “Next time, I’ll - shit - fuck the two of you while you’re on top of each other. Leave you guessin’ which hole’s getting my cock.”

He knows you’re close when he can feel your pussy squeeze desperately around him as your breaths grow more shallow. He turns your head to kiss your ankle bone as your leg is still propped up against his shoulder to allow him deeper access. His thrusts become faster and deeper as he aims to pummel into the spot that has you seeing stars. He makes sure not to forget about Ashley either, quickening the pumping of his fingers inside her as he also rubs harshly at her clit with his thumb - he’s getting carpal tunnel at this rate. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and her grip tightens around your hand as she nears her high.

Ashley’s the first to reach her climax. She cums all over his fingers as she practically screams in pleasure. Her pornographic moans cause your orgasm to hit you before you’re even truly aware it’s happening. Your pussy clenches around Leon’s cock as your back arches in pleasure which makes his thrusts stutter a few times before he shoots his cum deep inside you.

You writhe in pleasure as his load fills you up the way it should, the way it’s destined to. Leon musters up the last of his energy in pulling out and plopping next to you. His arm drapes over you, but not before slipping his fingers into your mouth to swallow the last bits of Ashley’s essence. Ashley moves down in between your legs to observe the way your boyfriend’s load oozes out of your battered hole. She gently laps at the excess cum seeping out of your folds, cleaning you up with kitten licks until your pussy is all neat and tidy again. She moves back up to snuggle against you, kissing you sweetly.

“We’re doing this again, right?” She mumbles against your hair as her eyes flutter shut.

“Definitely.”

[gilverrwrites]

Toy Maintenance

Arkham Knight/Reader, 900 words Ft. Slade Wilson Kinktober entry 13: Interruption Warnings: Extremely dubious consent/non-con | implied/mentions of violence | bondage | gags | exhibitionism, sorta | a darker portrayal of Jason Requested by: Anonymous

“Oh, you poor baby. Does it hurt?” The eerily modulated voice of The Arkham Knight jeers at you from above. You’re not exactly sure what he’s referring to, but the answer is yes. Your very bones ache to their core after hours of use. Your wrists are cut from their metal bindings, knees scuffed from the hard floor. Your jaw stings from having your lips locked around a ring gang for such a long time, and you were beginning to fear he was right; your tight little cunt would never be the same again. Everything hurt.

Even as he teasingly slaps his cock between your slit, what should only sting a little, burns. “I asked you a question.”

To emphasise his impatience, he smacks a gloved hand on your already beaten ass, laughing that infuriating fucking laugh when you cry out in pain.

“Uhhh.” Your sob is distorted by the O-shaped piece of metal lodged between your teeth. “Yuush e hopts.”

“Awh.” He continues to mock as he slowly pushes his length inside your used up walls. The pace is not a kindness, you know he wants to feel every inch of it splitting tender walls. As he presses deeper inside, the cum from his previous exploits leaks out of your gaping hole. The wet sound of it escaping and dripping to the floor is absolutely vulgar. Once he bottoms out, he leans over your arched back, ensuring his tip sits snug against your cervix and getting close to your face. “I don’t care.”

The worst part is that once he starts driving into your raw and worked up pussy, ruthlessly snapping his hips at an animalistic speed; the pain is worth it. Just for that modicum of bittersweet pleasure. Even his foul-mouthed compliments and derogatory insults make your eyes roll back, and so he cracks wise at you all the more.

“God you’re pathetic.” He spits in response to your quiet sobs. He likes this angle because he knows he’s hitting that inner sweet spot that makes you crazy with every thrust. “Look at you, fucking loving it. You don’t know even know who I am. Do you?”

You’re shaking your head, scuffing your own cheek on the concrete floor when the door suddenly swings open and slams closed, a tall figure carrying a thick folder entering in between. The Knight doesn’t let up his unrelenting attack on your cunt, not even as the solider stops beside your rutting bodies, depositing the file on The Knights desk.

Up close you recognise him, specifically the two-done armour, and his singular, jarring eye. Deathstroke.

“When you hired me, I came on as a mercenary, not an errand boy.” He states bitterly. You can’t get a good look at him from your spot on the floor, but he seems to be watching your captor. It occurs to you that most would be attempting to cover their modesty about now, but The Knight isn’t done with you, so you remain still, enjoying the euphoric drag of his cock.

“Ohh, sorry, old man. Am I running you ragged?” The Knight replies, voice raspy from exertion but still acrid. Even more sour than it is with you, which you earnestly hadn’t thought possible.

“Not likely.” The merc deadpans. If you had the energy, you might have jumped when his masked head swiftly tilts to meet your eye.

He considers you for a moment before lifting his boot and lightly placing it on your shoulder. You don’t fight, The Knight has long since fucked that out of you. But for the first time since you’d been brought here, you wonder how you must look. Bruised and broken, face planted in a puddle of your own drool. How small and worthless you must seem.

With his foot, Deathstroke shakes your form, only briefly, grunting when you don’t respond and turning back to The Arkham Knight.

“You should take better care of your toys.” He says, chiding him like a father would a child. The Knight doesn’t take too kindly to his tone.

“Fuck off old timer, don’t tell me how to run my shit.” You howl in a twisted mix of relief and anguish as The Knight pulls out of you to get in Deathstroke face. “I got her just how I want her.”

“Is that right?” The older man snickers, his one eye falling back to you, it takes you a moment to register that his proceeding question is directed at you. “Far be it from us to have an opinion, huh girl?”

If or how you should respond is redundant, before you can muster any sound The Knight jams his finger in Deathstroke’s chest. “Do I pay you to have opinions? No, I pay you to do a fucking job. N- “

He cuts himself off mid-sentence, also looking over at you before the two masked men turn to face each other in tandem.

“Oh, I get it. You’re sniffing around because you want a piece.” Deathstroke scoffs in reply but doesn’t deny the accusation. Resolutely unbothered by The Knight’s impeachment of personal space.

Like a carrot on a stick, The Arkham Knight reaches down to you, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck and hauling you upright so that Deathstroke can get a better look at your naked body, cuts and bruises and all.

“Well get me some goddamn results, an’ I might let you take a turn.” You’re not sure how you feel about that, but you doubt your position on the matter will be considered. “But until then get the fuck outta my face.”

You will achieve great things, even though small steps.

Kinktober Masterlist

[vigilskeep]

hello! you know a lot of dragon age lore so i thought id ask you— i saw a post earlier that was discouraging to me aa trans person where the op said that veilguard having top surgery scars in the cc goes against established worldbuilding. does it make sense for top surgery to be possible in thedas? thanks

my rule of thumb is that in a world where healing spells exist, there’s absolutely no logical, believable reason for it not to be possible. you don’t have to go back and provide sources about historical surgeries—which is something i personally know nothing about—for this to be true

like, i just can’t take this line of thought seriously. ohhh we can have floating cities and magical neon lights and spirit healers who can mend injuries just by passively standing next to you, but we draw the line as soon as it’s something that would make our trans players happy! it’s so transparent. do not listen to these people or let them discourage you

if you want to get into the worldbuilding potential of it—which is just fun to do—we can probably guess that for the top surgery scars to be as neat as they seem to look in the veilguard character creator, similar to modern ones, magical healing was involved. now i do believe that the chantry might get suspicious of body-altering magic, that magical power is hoarded by the circles in the south and the wealthy in the north, and also that “out” trans people are a minority in thedas. so i’m not saying that this is something easy for your average guy to get hold of. that’s where you can feed it into backstory. are they powerful and connected enough that they could find specialists willing to go beyond the ordinary? or do they have underground connections to hidden apostate healers, whose only priority is what helps (or perhaps just how much you’re willing to pay)? do they belong to a culture that might not be restricted by the chantry’s norms about gender or magic, like the dalish or the rivaini? or do they belong to a mage-focused community or order, who among themselves do whatever they like? endless options

some might be referring to a line in dai from krem, a trans man, where you can ask him about potentially changing his body with magic and he essentially says he wouldn’t let magic that could do that anywhere near his body, though when he was younger he might have dreamed about the possibilities. firstly, krem is absolutely not the gold standard for trans representation and nobody should care about being flexible from what bioware put out a decade ago. secondly, krem is a random mercenary who knows one (1) mage, who spends the entire time insisting she’s not a mage. i very much doubt he’s the no. 1 source for what might be magically possible in this or any regard

also ultimately, and i cannot express this enough, you can do whatever you want forever. it could be absolutely fundamentally impossible in-world somehow and it would still not be that serious to be “unrealistic” in the dragon video games. don’t let anyone discourage you from making the character you want to make. it being an option makes it canonically part of thedas, end of. they put it in the game and nobody bitching about it can take it out

[valentine-cafe]

heyo! could i please get pathetic top!amab reader and his first time with alessio (781), rishen (1311), & zhao (9948e) but as seperate scenarios? 🫀

. ˚◞♡ pathetic top male reader x amab characters ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. you top your lover for the first time. . . in a rather pathetic way /male reader

꒰ SO we are gonna assume you were referring to jìngyí 9948e! if not - we’re dreadfully sorry but we were unsure of who from the zhào family you were referring to ꒱

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 781 ꒱ has always been a bit iffy on the idea of letting someone else top him - unless he fully trusts that person. so when he eventually came about to trust you enough - it was definitely something he was not used to.

not the idea of being topped. but the way you went about it. makeouts and neck kisses on his sofa turned into you rutting into his clothed hips with whining noises. face buried into his shoulder while your moans spilled over his neck - muttering about how good he felt. you weren’t even inside and you were such a mess.

he’d be lying if he said the sight didn’t turn him on. the sheer contrast of your hiccups and whines paired with the way you so firmly held him down by his throat or hair - it did something to him.

“gonna f-fuck you s’good baby. gonna make you cum. can I? can I? p-please. oh please querido, please please -”

how can he do anything else but let you push into him? make him dizzy with your rough thrusts that made whines pour from his own lips. his eyes cross and his short black nails dig into your back.

“l-like it?” you’d pant. snapping your hard cock into his clenching hole. you bite on your lip as he shivers. your hand wraps around his own dick. rub along his tip in a way that has him groaning your name. “yeah? like it baby? can you cum for me? please? please please just wannna make y’feel good. . . a-angh - hhn-”

the way you pressed your lips into his so messily and slammed all the way. humped into him like a bitch in heat and cried about how good he felt. he’d cup your face and brush away your tears despite you fucking him so hard that he couldn’t think straight. despite his own tears pouring out of his eyes as you make him cum again and again.

“c-come on hermoso - you can do it - y-you can make me - hah fuck - c-can make me cum - come on -” he’d whisper into your ear.

mercenary x reader, enigma x reader, immortal x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 1311 ꒱ was quite surprised the first time that you both spent together. the way you so quickly took charge. he didn’t mind - with the decision fatigue he experiences? he didn’t mind one bit when you bent him over his desk with a hand buried in his hair and started fucking his thighs.

what did surprise him was how vocal you are. not that he minded - if anything it made him already begin leaking precum into his leather pants.

your grunts and whimpers to his ears made his head spin. at one point he’d try to do the switch on you - but you’d just slam him further into the desk and hump against his ass aggressively.

“n-no. no I wanna fuck you. wanna fuck you. w-wanna make you feel good.”

you whined like a bottom. but he’d quickly find out that wasn’t the case when you fingered him until he was drooling into the mahogany wood. his eyes fluttering at your soft pants and ragged breathing. as though you were already fucking him.

“d-dios - so fuckin’ pathetic - you gonna - gonna - ah! gonna cum from just finger’in me querido? y-yeah? ah,”

he wasn’t ready for just how big you were. how he struggled to take you and ended up being the one whining when you start ferally fucking into him. his soft ass rippling with every buck of your tempered hips.

oh you were strong. he learnt that when you gripped onto waist and fucked him back into you. when he felt your nails leave crescent marks all over his skin. but what made him cum all over his floor three times and more - was the things you whimpered out.

“s-so tight - s’tight fuck - g-gonna fuck you good - promise. I p-promise baby - promiiissee angh,”

not to mention the amount of times you came. he’d so much as shudder out your name and you were stuffing his ass full. when you sat down on his chair to let him ride you - he thought it was his chance to take advantage.

but all you did was snap your hips and bounce him like a ragdoll. all while whimpering, whining and even crying about how pretty he looked with his head tossed back and his makeup running down his face.

spy x reader, assassin x reader, admiral x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ JÌNGYÍ 9948E ꒱ was so excited during your first time. he couldn’t stop giggling and chuckling against your lips as you kissed him so heatedly. as you stumbled him right to his bed and got on top of him.

“you wanna take lead?” he’d breathe. if only to groan when he felt your hand already palming at his dick. you’d squeeze and feel what was finally yours. all while you panted against his ear in a way that made him bite his lip. you sounded so feral.

you were jerking him off and humping on his leg with soft whines while you did so. the sight of him in pleasure and bucking his hips into your hand was simply too much to bear.

he very quickly noticed how whiney you were. it made him cum way quicker than he expected - and when you lowered yourself to suck him off. he felt like he would spill all over again when he saw the way your eyes fluttered and rolled back at the mere taste of him.

“taste so good. . . fuck. lay down. need to be in you sooo bad,” you’d hiccup. pushing him down onto his back and grinding your clothed crotch into his twitching dick for a moment or two.

he was in a state when you pushed into him. when you threw one of his legs over your shoulder and started rutting into him with a series of whines and a crease to your brows.

“s-s - f-feel that good baby? yeah?” he’d moan up to you. bringing one of his hands to your shoulder. you very quickly would remind him that you were the one taking lead when you started fucking him ball’s deep and in a way that made the headboard slam into the wall repeatedly.

his eyes were rolled back and yet he still heard your whimpers right above him. your drool dripping down onto his neck.

“feel s-so good - feel so so good - b-baby - oh baby g-gonna cum -” you couldn’t help but clash your lips down onto his. swallow his moans and spill your own cries as you pounded him until you were both in tears and whining.

grim reaper x reader, ghost x reader

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 4: Harpy

I have a strange relationship with harpies. I really like them, especially since they are the mythical equivalent to my favorite animal—vultures—but also I guess they actually manage to horrify me for some reason... Ah, well, luckily I get a chance to write for them in this challenge :D

Prompt: Day 4: Harpy | Cliff // Flying // Illusion Warnings: Yandere, Fem!Reader, Implied Sexual Actions, Violence (Swearing, Implied Murder, Implied Death, Implied Animal Cruelty, Hunting, Animal/Monster Fighting), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Long Post

"Be careful now, young'un. There's harpies roaming these fields."

Resting your head back, you let the hood of your cape free up some of your sight heavenwards. You watched the clamor of harpies flying high above the field you and the mercenary were crossing through. They were so far away they looked like little specks of feathers against the grey skies.

"Fuckin' breeding season. Every year it's the same shit. They just wait for some poor farmer's son to come out and whisk him away, fuck him till he's sucked dry, and eat him afterward."

Your lips curled into a small smile at the sound of the mercenary's foul choice of words. Although you didn't hire him for his raggedness or the threat of some usually easily slain harpies, you began to appreciate his no-shit attitude the longer you traveled together.

"By that logic, wouldn't you be more in danger?" you asked, referring to the difference in gender you two had. If the harpies were lusting after young men, then you, as a woman, had less to fear, you figured. But at the same time, with his grey hair and long beard, he probably wasn't on the dinner schedule either.

"Don't be so sure about that, young'un. I've seen beasts that were clearly lasses but had pricks closer to that of giants than any man has. Likewise, male monsters tend to prefer to hunt scarier prey than frail women like those from the villages where everyone is skin and bones except the workers. And they keep them as trophies and pets, doing unspeakable things to the men—and have the man do things to them. Monsters are not always what they seem."

"Why would they need a human then?" you questioned his words, but the mercenary only shrugged.

"Maybe they find their own as ugly as we think 'em to be."

You grimaced, unsure how to react to that information. You had always been sheltered by your family, not quite royalty, but wealthy enough that you'd be married off against your will unless you escaped far out of their reach. Luckily, your jewels and gold chains had managed to buy you a decent mercenary to help with your plans of running, finding a new home, and a new life far away from the expectancies.

"Why aren't they attacking us then? Surely, they see us."

"My, you have lotsa questions, young'un. You can't rationalize those monsters. Maybe they like other prey. Maybe they are just waiting for the right moment. Don't worry your pretty head off about why or why not, just enjoy not being eaten."

He clicked his tongue, spurning his horse forward, and you followed, worry tensing your back as you looked up again, noticing how the clamor now seemed much closer. You could even see individual feathers in the mass now. It was questionable whether drawing more attention with faster movement was a good idea. Still, you wanted to trust the mercenary and his years of experience.

"We're close now!" he yelled back to you. "Into the forest, and we'll be out of their sight!"

Pushing your heels into the side of your steed, you two fell into a speedy gallop. The hood of your coat kept falling over your eyes, but you tried your best to stay focused and keep up with your guide and protector. All you had to do to overcome this first hurdle was reach the forest, and you were so close to it, you could already smell the wood.

That was until the sudden sound of screams ahead of you made you push your hood off completely, just in time to see the silver of the mercenary's breastplate sparkling in the light as he wildly squirmed in the grasp of an enormous monster. He was yelling loudly, only drowned out by shrieking and cackling. Another feathery creature swooped down, and it was his horse next that was carried off, neighing and crying out helplessly, your breath hitching with panic as you rammed your heels into your own stead.

You were so close to the woods when a massive bird passed by just in front of your horse, the animal rearing upwards. You tried desperately to hold on, but when something gripped the horse by the neck, a sharp claw grazing your face, you lost your hold out of surprise, your body falling freely to the ground while your poor stead was carried off mercilessly.

Your head pounded with pain as it hit the dirty field, your bones aching as they tried to feather your fall. But luckily, you were pumped with adrenaline, sitting up before you even realized how much it hurt, blood dripping from your cheek.

"Hi."

The woman standing before you smiled, her eyes unblinking as her lips curled upwards. Your whole body halted in its tracks, your breath stopping. You felt yourself relax at the sight of her and then stiffen up completely, goosebumps pebbling your skin as you forced yourself to realize this couldn't be. Whatever she was, she wasn't human, appearing so suddenly. Instead, she must have been an illusion of the harpies—one of them.

She was, at best, a few steps away from you, at worse, too close to be able to escape. Her head cocked to the side just a little too far to be natural as she regarded you on the ground with unbreakable calm. The peace of a predator, someone who wasn't worried about getting hurt. Silently, you cursed your family for denying you to learn how to wield a sword or dagger. Any kind of self-defense, really. "It wouldn't be necessary," well, now it was. There were no signs of the chaos that had just unfolded, the sounds reduced to the wind softly swaying through the early sprigs of oats growing on the fields.

Don't answer, you cautioned yourself, knowing the best survival tactics when dealing with monsters was not dealing with monsters. You were already pretty vulnerable to the creature as it was; you didn't need to agitate her.

"Clever, are we?" she said, her lips splitting to reveal the teeth of the creatures you were most afraid of all of a sudden. Apparently, the harpies were not disinterested in you, something the mercenary probably hadn't thought about as he led you directly through their flock.

"And so pretty," the harpy chirped, her eyes raking over you as she cocked her head to the other side in a snap. "Want to go to the forest? You can."

Suspicion raised inside of you at her offer. Letting you go so easily? Even if she didn't want to take you away for mating, shouldn't her kind be interested in eating you?

"You'll let me go?" you asked, only realizing your mistake when it was too late, and you slammed your hand over your mouth. The harpies grin only widened, her mouth tearing open unnaturally wide.

"Yes, you can go. A darling girl like you shouldn't be around my sisters. They'd love to taste you."

Your chest was heaving heavily with panic as she spoke. You heard her coo sweetly as she watched you, her gaze dropping from your face all the way to your legs as if she were trying to rip you open and spill your guts with just her eyes. Delighted by the sight, hungry. And you felt so vulnerable under the scrutiny, her eyes on you beyond any look anyone had ever given you, dripping with her full attention and desire.

"Come back sometimes, okay? Let's play together? You're so pretty..."

You gulped. Never before had you heard the tale of a harpy letting someone go because they thought they were pretty. You dared to glance by her, looking at the woods that waited for you behind her form. It was so close, perhaps ten footsteps away, before you breached the edge of the forest.

With your breath escaping you, you staggered to your feet, trying to always keep your eyes on her. You stopped mid-movement as you heard the shuffling of her clothes. Clothes that you realized weren't from fabric at all. Just her convincingly placed feathers. It was scary how well she could imitate an ordinary woman if not for her sharp mannerisms and the way she fixated on you strangely. However, someone less aware and less familiar with the threat of harpies could have easily overlooked these features. Fallen for her illusion that only now started to dissolve as she began reacting to you.

Her wings appeared like a brown dress on her, with a mantle over her shoulders to cover up her lack of arms. Her legs were hidden well beneath the "skirt," and her brown locks perfectly framed what could pass as a pretty face in the city you were from. That was until she opened her mouth to shatter that facade.

"What?" she asked. "Do you think I'm pretty, too?"

It felt wrong to agree and give her more of your time than necessary. If she was well-disposed now, you didn't want to draw her ire. But at the same time, not answering seemed like it would cause her mood to sour, too. This time, instead of speaking, you nodded hesitantly, then firmly.

"Ah, I'm glad!" she hooted, and her "clothes" fluttered with excitement, feathers spreading outwards and destroying the illusion of her wings being garments. Something changed right before your eyes, but you couldn't pinpoint it. Even so, you were no longer fooled by her looks. She really was a monster before all else.

"Go," she cooed, leaning forward and hovering above you, her body now appearing much taller than before. "Before I keep you all to myself, you sweet, sweet thing."

Slowly, avoiding harsh movements, you finally came to a complete stand, realizing you were still at least three heads smaller than the harpy. You wouldn't let her out of your sight, and neither did she, you, as you began rounding her at a respectable distance. It wasn't enough distance to make you feel comfortable, as she could probably close it faster than anything else you knew. But it was your best bet.

She lets me go, just like that? you thought, still in disbelief. Feels like a trap.

But soon enough, your back was turned to the forest. A forest that, presumably, would keep you safe from the harpies if the words of the dead mercenary could still be trusted. He misjudged the situation once, but what were you supposed to do? Between the trees, you at least had the size advantage. Her wings fluttered again as she watched, cocking her head, hooting softly. Not moving from her spot.

Five more steps.

Four.

Three—

Your attention snapped away from her the second you heard the shriek of another monster approaching you from the side. You tumbled to the ground, feeling the force of the gust of wind its wings produced as you were thrown further away from the forest and onto the field, claws scratching you, ripping wounds into your sides. There was a match of voices as even more shrieking and hissing erupted, and you buried face down into the mud, shielding your head with your arms as movement and sounds accumulated right above you.

There must have been more than two harpies fighting above you, but you couldn't determine how many there were from your position. All you knew was that their claws sliced through the air just above your back, every one of them trying to get to you. Every one so close to hurting you—or worse.

"MINE!" one of them roared, and more shrieking occurred as a heavy, clawed foot landed on top of your back, pinning you to the dirty ground and pushing the air out of your lungs. "SHE'S MINE!"

The protest was apparent in the cacophony of sounds directed at the harpy above you, but the tumultuous movements slowly disappeared, only one body remaining. And suddenly, everything went dark, the foot on top of you slipping off until two feet were stomped into the ground on each of your sides.

You dared open your eyes again, trying to see what had happened and gauge how dead you were, but it was way too dark to see. A shudder went through what was blocking out the light, feathers fluttering aside just enough to let a spot of light in and show you were still on the dirty field. It made you realize that something was above you, shielding and enveloping you with its body.

"MINE!" the harpy shrieked again, the sound not directed at you, but it still shook your bones. "Mine," she repeated, this time calmer. You couldn't see, couldn't hear what was going on outside. But when her voice calmed, you could finally recognize it as that of the harpy you had spoken to. Even if her shrieks and caws were barely discernable to you, her voice remained the same.

She squawked a few more times into the direction of who knows where, your nerves completely blank as they couldn't get accustomed to the sounds, but now that the situation was calming down, the pain set in again, and you cursed it, willing it away only for it to blow up again inside of you.

Groaning, you braced yourself onto your arms, trying to lift from the ground, only to be met with the sharp sting of your sliced-up side. The wound was deeper than it had felt at first, and you let out a pitiful howl as you agitated it accidentally. You reckoned that your body was not okay after that attack, and you couldn't fathom how anyone could survive and mate these creatures when their claws did so much damage easily.

Turning onto your healthy side was the only thing you could think of to alleviate the pain temporarily, although the movement hurt so much more than if you had remained on your stomach.

"Oh no," the harpy cooed from above, and you spared her a glance from the one eye that was turned upwards. Her wings unfolded from each other, opening enough for her twisted neck to see through the gap, letting in some light and exposing her grotesque but real form. The legs of a bird, feathery and gnarly, the torso of a woman, and the face was a mix of both. No arms, just wings sprouting from her shoulders, and her hair a mess of feathers and twigs, nothing like the beautiful illusion she had shown you before.

"Poor, poor girl," she hooted, her expression ever so slightly drawing together in a meager display of unhappiness. "My sisters are so mean, aren't they? You were just trying to go to the forest."

You didn't acknowledge her with words as you bit your lip to stifle another sorrowful moan. Still, your body contorted, causing you to cry out in pain.

The harpy moved around you, circling you as she watched you restlessly, sweat and tears falling from your face as you couldn't even stop the bleeding with your hands full of grime and dirt. She danced around you awkwardly, keeping her wings up like a shield but letting in enough light to watch.

"You can't go like this now, can you? Can you? Poor, poor, pretty thing."

You heard her sigh, sounding oddly human, then she leaned down, poking you with the top of her wing where the bone spread to form the limb. Shockwaves of pain went through you as she agitated the wound by moving you, and you sobbed into the dirt, not knowing what to do. You couldn't communicate with her, couldn't tell her to fetch you a doctor. But if you stayed here like this, you'd probably be eaten sooner rather than later, and not unlikely by her.

Even as you cried, you used what little strength you had to sit up. The pain was unbearable, even as you clenched your jaws together tightly. But you were grateful when you felt one of her wings sweep beneath your back, helping you up even if it hurt.

"I need to stand up," you explained through sobs and cries of pain, and she hooted in understanding, lending you the firm part of her wings again to hold onto. She wasn't very deft in how much strength of hers you needed to be supported, but she tried to help—she, a monster. The situation was beyond strange and unimaginable, yet you almost felt some gratitude towards her.

"I need..." you gasped as you finally got to your legs. Pain was stealing your air, your mind twirling, and every thought getting more challenging to form. You stumbled backward, but her body caught you, steadied yours with hers. Dizziness raked at your conscience, the blood loss taking its toll. "A doctor. I need... a doctor..."

"Doctor?" she hooted questioningly. "What's a doctor?"

"A human who helps... injured humans. Medizin..."

"Huh?" With her elongated neck, she could easily look at your face even from behind you, but you didn't dare to look up to see how unnaturally she twisted her head back and forth, as she didn't understand. It wasn't that far off that harpies probably didn't help each other heal. They seemed more of the... cannibalistic type when one of them was weak.

"I need... help. I'm sick."

"Oh."

Finally, she seemed to understand, but unfortunately, instead of helping, she seemed deep in thought when the ground suddenly shook, and you had to grasp her wing tightly to keep your balance.

"Not fair!" another creature squawked, the sound almost shattering your eardrums coming from right in front of you. The ground shook even more as more of them landed, confronting their sister and you.

"Not fair! We want the human, too!"

"No!" the harpy at your back barked at them. "She's mine."

"She's not your mate!" they complained. "She's weak and bleeding! As good as dead!"

The harpies fell into a cacophony of chants, some saying "Dead Human!" in unison while the others shrieked, "Eat! Eat! Eat!"

"NO!" the harpy bellowed, shutting the others up fast. You were shocked by the vibrations of her body at your back, but it almost made you smile a little. What a stupid monster without a reason to be this protective. And yet she kept fighting for you.

"Then... she's a mate?" one of the harpies asked, sounding at her wit's end. The other hooted along to the statement, questioning your protector.

"Yes," she announced firmly, and this time, you did wrench your head upwards. She met your gaze with resolution, adding, "She's my mate. I have decided."

"Wha—?" you managed to wring out when one of her feet suddenly dug beneath your arms, clawed toes wrapping around your upper torso. You groaned in pain even though they didn't touch the wound directly as she placed them with intentions, but before you could complain, your feet lifted up from the ground, and you were just beneath the clouds faster than you could speak.

"Wait!" you screamed, struggling only to be hit with more pain.

"Where are you bringing me?" you asked, much quieter now that the situation finally dawned on you. The harpy tugged her legs in, supporting you with the free one beneath your thighs and giving you a place to sit on while also smushing you lightly against her feathery bottoms.

"To the nest. You said you are hurt, so I must clean your wounds, mate. Need to find herbs and food for you. Maybe there's some left from the hunt earlier. Flesh. You are too skinny."

"But... I'm not even your mate! We're both girls!" you complained heavenward, and she clucked, almost as if she was laughing.

"That makes no difference. You are my mate, I have decided."

"Do I get a chance to decide?" you whined, and for a moment, her wings stopped beating, the flight turning into a glide.

Her neck twisted, face turning back to look at you, and your wounds pounded angrily as her grip tightened.

"You are wounded. Do you want to be eaten?"

You gulped. That sounded much like your previous assumptions that harpies were not usually taken on duties to care for others.

"N-No?" you answered truthfully, but it sounded like a question anyway. Perhaps death was better than whatever "mate" was.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, she turned forward again, resuming her flight.

"Then you are my mate now. You'll like the nest. We can soften it together, and then we can create young. You'll stay there and heal, and I'll bring you food and gather pretty things for my pretty mate."

She looked down again, and her lips split in an upside-down grin, so very similar to that of her human form. She seemed almost... happy. You swallowed hard as she revealed her plans, unable to come up with anything that would change her mind and not drop you from this height. What else was there but to comply with her—for now? Maybe once you were healed and back on steady ground, you could escape her and still make the run you had planned to make anyway. Just now, you had your own family and a monster gnawing at your heels. At least you'd be safe for now, you hoped.

Hearing no complaints from you, her grin widened even more, feathers puffing as if she was proud of her accomplishments.

"My mate," she cooed, and the clouds cleared up, revealing the sundown over the ocean, a couple hundred more harpies squealing and screeching beneath you as you two made your way towards the cliffside. It was too close to the city you used to live in. Back to point zero, now with an additional struggle to manage. But at least here, they'd have a hard time finding you and perhaps an even harder time retrieving you while you could plan your next moves.

It wasn't what you had imagined when you ran away, but you'd have to do with it for now.

Your new home.

[dovesdreaming]

Cluelessly yours

This picture is making me so hungry

Summary: You’re crushing on Deadpool but he’s hopelessly oblivious to all your hints. You just have to come out and openly say it.

Request

Masterlist

-

You didn’t know how it had happened, but somewhere between the late-night takeout runs and the endless banter, you’d developed a crush on Wade Wilson. Sure, he wasn’t the textbook definition of “Prince Charming” what with the mercenary lifestyle, endless stream of sarcasm, and tendency to get a little too enthusiastic about explosions but there was something about him. Maybe it was his humor, his weirdly thoughtful moments, or the way he’d show up at your place with your favorite snacks after a rough day. Whatever it was, you were hopelessly crushing on him.

There was just one problem: Wade was completely oblivious. You sat on the couch in your apartment, flipping through a magazine but not really reading it, waiting for Wade to show up like he said he would. He had promised to bring pizza and hang out after his "super-secret, definitely-not-a-date-with-death" mission today, and as usual, you found yourself thinking about how to finally tell him how you felt. But every time you tried to be a little flirty, a little more obvious, he’d just… miss it. Or worse, take it as a joke and deflect with some ridiculous comment.

The sound of the front door slamming open yanked you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Wade, in full Deadpool gear, standing in the doorway holding a pizza box over his head like a trophy. “Guess who’s back from a successful slaughter fest?” he announced. “That’s right, it’s me. And I brought pizza! I figured you’d want to carbo-load after a long day of being awesome”. You smiled, grateful that he was always so... thoughtful, in his own Wade-ish way. “Thanks, Wade. You’re the best”. He tossed the pizza box onto the coffee table and plopped down on the couch beside you, stretching his legs out with a satisfied sigh. "Well, I know that. But keep saying it, I never get tired of hearing it”. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small grin that spread across your face. Wade had that effect on you, no matter how chaotic your day was, he always managed to make you laugh. And even though he had no idea you liked him, he was always so nice to you. Thoughtful, in his own ridiculous way.

Wade nudged you playfully with his elbow. “Soooo, whatcha been up to, gorgeous? Miss me while I was off doing my superhero-slash-homicidal thing?” Your heart skipped a beat at the casual compliment. You glanced at him, trying to play it cool, though you felt heat rising in your cheeks. “Maybe I did” you teased. “Who else is going to bring me pizza and call me ‘gorgeous’?” Wade laughed, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Well, good thing I’ve got you covered on both fronts! Pizza and compliments? I’m your guy”. He took a big bite, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Seriously, though, you could do way better than a burnt chimichanga like me”. You blinked, surprised by the casual self-deprecation in his voice. “I don’t think so” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Wade, predictably, didn’t catch the weight behind your words. “Pfft, you’re just being nice” he said, leaning back and tossing his feet up onto the coffee table. “But that’s why you’re awesome. Always so nice to ol’ Wade”. You felt a twinge of frustration. He really was clueless. How could he not see it? How could he not realize that you wanted to be nice to him, to be around him, because you liked him? You sighed, setting your magazine aside. Maybe it was time to push the envelope just a little more. If he didn’t get it after this, then maybe he really was a lost cause. “So, Wade” you began, turning slightly to face him. “Do you ever… I don’t know, think about dating?” Wade raised an eyebrow behind his mask, looking genuinely confused. “Dating? Me? Babe, look at this face”. He gestured to his mask, clearly referring to the scars beneath. “I’m not exactly prime boyfriend material. Most people would run screaming in the opposite direction”. You frowned, your heart clenching at his words. “That’s not true” you said firmly. “You’re funny, caring… you’re way more than just your appearance”.

Wade blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden seriousness. “Uh… thanks?” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to take the compliment. You hesitated, your heart pounding. This was your moment either he got it, or he didn’t.“What if I told you…” You took a breath, feeling the words catch in your throat. “That someone… really liked you? That someone… I thought you’d be great boyfriend material?” Wade froze, pizza slice halfway to his mouth, staring at you with wide eyes. There was a long, awkward pause before he finally responded, voice hesitant. “Wait… are you saying… you like me?” You bit your lip, nodding. “Yeah, Wade. I do”. He sat there, still holding the pizza slice, completely silent for what felt like an eternity. Your heart sank a little, thinking you’d misread everything, that maybe he wasn’t interested in you that way at all.

Then, finally, Wade snapped out of it. “Wait. Hold the chimichangas. You, you- gorgeous, smart, amazing you- like me? Like, in the 'I wanna kiss your weird, scarred face' kinda way?” You felt your cheeks flush, but you nodded again, trying to keep from laughing at the way he phrased it. “Yes, Wade. I like you”. Wade blinked, then dropped the pizza slice back into the box, turning to face you fully. “Holy crap. You’re serious”“Completely”. He stared at you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable under the mask. Then, without warning, he let out a loud, exaggerated gasp and clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh my god! How did I not see this?!” You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top reaction, the tension in the room instantly melting. “Because you’re oblivious, Wade. I’ve been flirting with you for weeks”.

“Weeks?!” Wade slapped his forehead. “And I missed it all? Wow, I’m worse than I thought. My obliviousness is like a superpower all on its own. Should I put that on my résumé?” You laughed again, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Wade might’ve been oblivious, but at least now he knew. And from the look on his face- or at least, what you could see of it- it wasn’t a bad thing. “So…” Wade leaned forward slightly, his usual cocky grin creeping back. “Does this mean I can ask you on a date? Or do I need to wait for more obvious hints next time?” You smirked. “Wade, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for weeks. You don’t need any more hints”.

His grin widened beneath the mask, and he reached out, grabbing your hand in his gloved one. “Well then, in that case, how about we make this pizza party an official date? You, me, Dogpool- candlelight, bad rom-coms, and excessive snuggling?” You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “That sounds perfect”. Wade squeezed your hand, his voice dropping to a soft, genuine tone. “Hey, thanks for liking me. Scars and all. You’re… you’re pretty damn great, you know that?” You leaned in, your smile warm as you looked at him. “You’re pretty great too, Wade”.

[tweexcore-undrgrnd]

you were right! so right! and I'm sorry for ever doubting you, my sweet sweet, soulful future self.

I had a day so full of love and sunshine and whimsy I feel like I've finally made it. this is the end credits of me picking myself up, giving that care and attention to every piece that hurt, listening to each small internal thought and unpicking it. taking interest in myself. realising I'm so much stronger than I ever really thought, that I'm someone I'd like to spend the rest of my life with.

just lying in the sun by myself for a minute this afternoon, I realised that things really can be okay, in a way. the reality is nothing will ever truly feel like a perfect "okay" to live in. but I can be okay, even for a little while.

I can still feel that heat on my face from the moment when I roll over and look to that burning, flaming fucking mass of energy up there, and see it as nothing other than a reflection. it's me. and I'm the key to my own life, evolution, and every beautiful thing that pushes up through the ugly earth of my foundations.

happy birthday, sylv, I love you, I love you, I love you

hah! better than you thought huh?

[obsessedwithspiderman2099]

Can you please do a Miguel O’Hara scenario where F!Reader is his Deadpool and even though he finds her irritating sometimes he has a soft spot for her?

A Spider-Man and A Mercenary

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara x fem Deadpool Reader

Word count: 776

Synopsis: A familiar Deadpool variant manages to break into the spider society again…

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!!! This was such a fun dynamic to write between Miguel and us as Deadpool 😋

It was just like any normal day in the spider society. Anomalies were being dealt with, and no spiders were bothering Miguel as he got to stand in his office looking over everything.

Suddenly on one of the security monitors, He spotted a certain Deadpool breaking into the building. Miguel groaned, not you again. If any regular Deadpool broke in, normally he would just ship them back home. Easy. But no, of course the most obnoxious one was located on earth 2099.

“Ay, Dios mio…” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, already hearing your loud voice echoing through the already busy hallways of the spider society. He sighed, turning off the intruder alert and resting his hands on his hips as he waiting for you to stomp into his office to torture him further.

You had done this continuously, annoying him with your constant yapping and endless flirting.

Miguel finally heard the door open, signaling your entrance.

“What do you want.” He grumbled, refusing to look at you and instead focusing his gaze on the numerous yellow screens surrounding his office.

“Heyyyy, how’s my favorite Spider-Man doing?” You say, waltzing into his office, or what you call his spider-cave ( he never got the reference).

“You know you’re not supposed to be in this building.”

Miguel crossed his arms, finally looking at the familiar red leather suit you’re sporting.

“How many times do I have to kick you out before you get it?”

“Guess you’ll just have to do it again.” You say, giving him a wink before strolling further in. He scoffed, glancing at his screens for a split second.

Meanwhile, you immediately begin to look around the large dark space, pushing random buttons and causing havoc.

“Hey-HEY!” Miguel pushed himself away from his desk and quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back from the buttons that were connected to important multiverse things. “Why do you insist on being such a pain in my ass?” He glared at you with his usual scowling red eyes, the lack of sleep present underneath them. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look mad?” You smirk, looking up at him.

The height difference between the two of you was comical.

“You. All the time. It’s infuriating.” Miguel said bluntly, narrowing his eyes down at you.

He lets out a tired sigh, obviously frustrated by but also oddly used to your antics. “Can you just stop moving and causing chaos for five minutes and just act like a normal Human??” “We both know I’m not.” “I’m fully aware of that…” He scoffed, pulling you a bit closer to him.

His fingers curled around your wrist, keeping you from trying to wander off again.

“Oooooo, feeling handsy today are we?”

He rolled his eyes at the comment. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just trying to keep you from touching something you're not supposed to.”

Despite what he was saying, he kept you close. His fingers gently caressing the red leather surrounding your wrist. Your annoying energy and presence alone was exhausting to deal with, but a part of Miguel couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Something about you.. just made Miguel’s heart beat a little faster. (And sometimes made his face red)

You start tapping on his arm, bringing him back to the present. “Yeah riiiiiight.” You tease, and he finally comes up with the bright ideas to try getting you out of his office.

“Are you hungry?” Miguel asks, noticing the way your face immediately shoots up to meet his. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“If I take you out to lunch will you stop bothering me and breaking into my office??”

“Awww, you're finally taking me out on a date? Took you long enough!”

You bat your eyes at him, again trying to poke his buttons.

“It’s not a date. Don’t get any ideas.” Miguel responded quickly, activating his mask to hide the slight redness that covered his cheeks.

“Can we listen to wham on the way?” You say, already skipping to the exit at the thought.

“You just can’t make this easy for me, can you?” He said, rolling his eyes at your request.

“Fine, whatever. We're listening to wham, just promise you won’t try to start anything else.”

“Can’t make any promises spidey.”

The familiar cheeky smile on your face beaming. He sighed, a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. “Of course you can’t..” He followed after, opening the door for you. “After you.”

“What a gentleman.” You happily walked out, taking his hand in yours. He saw this, and couldn’t help but give the tiniest smile.

Maybe this ‘date’ wouldn’t be as long and grudgingly annoying as he thought.