alternate title: four times it's casual and the first time it isn't
this one is inspired by @prokrastinartiya's landoscar kissing meme! i saw it, fell in love, BOOM absolutely locked in for an idea :)) (before y'all start telling me it's normally 5+1 I KNOW shhhhhhh i prioritize quality over quantity)
contains: the 4 is mostly fluff but a lil bit of spice, the +1 is straight up smut tho, smut warnings: making out, sub lando, miami gp win, congratulatory sex, L bombs, lowkey a shitty ending bc i don't know how to write endings LOL, just two boys being really in love :)
find the original art post that inspired this here!
taglist: @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy @anat33-blog1 @Xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17 @marknolee @toby33b @theendofthematerialgworl @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808
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i: the establishing kiss.
contrary to popular belief, oscar's love language is physical touch. he doesn't let it show all that much, but when he feels safe with someone, he doesn't stop showing it.
take lando, for example.
the first time he kisses lando, they're in japan in 2023. the brit is initially confused and a little bit shocked, taken aback by the sudden change in oscar's demeanor, but quickly learns to reciprocate.
lando had been endlessly yapping about something or other, oscar hadn't really been paying attention, but when his engineer poked his head in to summon oscar for a quick check in about potential tyre strategies, oscar stood, pressed a kiss to lando's cheek, and was about to walk out of the room before he heard his teammate short circuit.
"shit, sorry. it was an automatic reflex. is it... was that okay?" oscar had backpedaled, completely ignorant to the flush that immediately flooded lando's summer-tanned skin.
"y- yeah, it's fine, i just... wasn't expecting it."
oscar takes that as permission to continue the goodbye kisses.
ii: on the forehead.
the second time, lando is clinging to oscar's arm in his sleep, the left side of his body plastered to oscar's right and his head resting on oscar's shoulder. they're heading back to the MTC on the team jet after qatar, and frankly, oscar understands lando's exhaustion. the heat that weekend was entirely unbearable to the point where multiple teams, including mclaren, were genuinely concerned for their drivers' and pit crews' safety, and most, if not all, of the drivers had reported feeling unwell in their cars. the fact that he and lando had somehow managed to scrape a double podium together despite the brutal conditions was astounding.
lando shifts a bit in his sleep, the crown of his head resting in the nook between oscar's jaw and his shoulder, and a protective impulse hits oscar like a freight train. he tilts his head just so, pressing his lips to lando's forehead gently enough so that he doesn't wake, instead sighing delicately in oscar's arms and shifting impossibly closer.
oscar lays his head on top of lando's and passes out within minutes, the comforting weight of lando's body on his lulling him into the deepest sleep he's gotten in weeks.
iii: on the cheek.
the next kiss occurs inside the MTC, and this time, it's lando's lips on oscar's skin.
immediately after being released from the team debrief meeting that stretches on, in lando's entirely correct opinion, for an unnecessarily long amount of time, he all but throws himself into oscar's arms, and oscar gladly accepts, wrapping his own arms around lando's waist and burying his face into the soft fabric of lando's hoodie. thankfully, lando had quickly caught on to the fact that reciprocating oscar's physical touch is not only acceptable but also welcomed and encouraged, so he'd begun initiating hugs and slotting himself underneath oscar's arm more frequently in the past weeks.
"hello to you, too," oscar murmurs into lando's hoodie, taking comfort in the feeling of lando's arms around his body.
"'m so happy you're okay," lando mumbles, his face tucked into the crook of oscar's neck between his jaw and his shoulder. "you... you are okay, right?" he pulls back briefly, looking up at oscar with concerned eyes that search oscar's own, scanning for any signs of discomfort or pain but finding none.
"i'm okay. are you?" lando's eyes slip shut with a nod, the most delicate of smiles tugging at his lips.
"yeah, i'm good."
"good." lando pulls back, much to oscar's disappointment, the stale, conditioned air of the conference room replacing the comforting warmth of lando's body almost immediately. sensing that the hug is now over, oscar lets his hands drop, settling awkwardly at his sides.
fuck it, oscar thinks. "you wanna get dinner?"
lando sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. "i don't know, mate, i'm pretty beat. breakfast tomorrow?"
had lando not been focused on noticing how scuffed his trainers are, he would've seen the way oscar's lips fell into his signature pout. instead, he hears a quiet "oh, okay," before looking back up and smiling faintly. "i'll text you?"
oscar sounds like a kicked puppy.
"oh, come here, you muppet." lando's left arm wraps around oscar's shoulders and his right hand holds oscar's chin, his lips on oscar's cheek, and... yeah. that's exactly what oscar needed. "where do you wanna get dinner?"
iv: on the neck.
it's early february, and they're finally back in woking to film some teaser content before pre-season tests in bahrain.
"mm, i missed you," lando says, tilting his head back as oscar mouths at his neck, and oscar hums in response. of course, oscar takes that opportunity to graze his teeth across the delicate skin of lando's neck, which, in turn, makes lando whine.
when oscar pulls back to catch his breath, his mouth goes dry, a stark contrast to the spit-shiny side of lando's neck. the fact that the buttons of his team kit polo are all completely undone and the collar is shoved to the side only adds to it, but his disheveled curls and flushed face really tie it all together with a pretty bow made of the finest ribbon oscar could ever imagine. "fuck, you look beautiful."
"osc," lando whines, and the look in his eyes can only be described as downright pathetic. his eyes are glassy, his lips parted and red from how furiously oscar had kissed them just minutes before, and his chest heaves with the panting breaths he's taking. it's only then that oscar notices- lando's hard.
+i: on the lips.
oscar hasn't really fully processed it yet. lando just got his maiden formula 1 win. he heard it on the radio, the replay of lando's overwhelmed cheers, screaming to his engineer that they did it, they finally did it.
it's only when his lips find lando's long after the podium ceremony, the lingering taste of champagne, sweat, and tears filtering itself onto his tongue, that he realizes just how real it is, and he can't even find it in himself to be mad that he wasn't in the points. "'m so proud of you," oscar says between kisses. "so fucking proud of you." the soft duvet of the hotel room bed wrinkle as lando squirms in an attempt to release some of the pent-up energy from all the adrenaline coursing through his body.
"fuck, osc..." lando's brain short circuits when he feels oscar's hands reach underneath his shirt, calloused fingertips on sensitive skin. "thank you." lando keeps smiling stupidly into the kisses oscar's pressing to his lips, hands scrabbling to grasp at whatever they can. oscar feels like every single sense in his body is heightened, and he's noticing every single detail about every single kiss he feels. the scent of champagne and sweat and lando's skin, the taste of something so distinctly lando that oscar doesn't think he'll ever be able to describe in words, and, above all, the feeling of lando's skin on his. desperate hands grabbing everywhere on oscar's body they can reach, the toned muscle of his abdomen beneath oscar's palms, lando's legs tight around his waist, bringing oscar impossibly closer to the tender skin on the inside of his thighs-
fuck.
he's hard.
"oscar," lando whines, pulling away ever so slightly to catch his breath. "fuck me."
what?
what the fuck?
oscar swears he's hearing things. the roar of engines, wheel guns, and fans' screams have finally gotten to him and he's suffering from either hallucinations or straight up hearing loss.
"what?"
"fuck me, please. there's lube and condoms in the bottom of my suitcase." and... fuck. stronger men have been defeated by less, so there's no way in hell oscar will be able to resist that, especially with how desperate lando sounds.
"where you hoping this would happen?" oscar stands, immediately mourning the loss of lando's body heat, but hastily rummages through the suitcase placed at the foot of the bed, easily locating the bottle of lube and a condom from the bottom of lando's suitcase, exactly where he said they'd be. he doesn't miss the way lando's cheeks flush even more as he nods, hands desperately fumbling to get his shirt off, just to have something to do with them. oscar grins and clicks his tongue, dropping the lube and condom next to lando's hip. "let's get these jeans off, yeah?"
"please." lando's hands fly to his pants, popping the button open and shoving the fly down before shimmying his legs out of the denim. a shuddering sigh pushes past his lips at the release of pressure, and oscar shoves his own jeans down, kicking his and lando's pants off of the bed. there's a faint dark spot on the front of lando's boxers, his erection tenting the fabric, and oscar's sure he looks no different.
"are you sure about this?" there's a nagging in the back of oscar's mind, telling him it's all the adrenaline from lando's maiden win, that this isn't actually what lando wants, that he's going to regret it in the morning... the tone of oscar's voice brings lando out of his haze, clarity returning to the race winner's eyes alongside something else that oscar can't currently pinpoint at the moment.
"do you want to do this?" that's what it is. concern. lando's voice is clear, lacking any of the previous whiny twinge it'd held just moments prior, and his hands come up to gently hold the side of oscar's neck, his fingertips brushing the short bits of oscar's hair. "if you don't want to do this, we can go out and get drunk and forget this ever happened." his eyes search oscar's, his multicolored irises inspecting for any sign of discomfort, hesitation, or uneasiness.
leaving is the last thing oscar wants to do. he knows that much.
with a deep, steadying breath and a shift of his hips- oh, fuck, that was a mistake, because now his clothed dick is laying in the juncture of lando's hip and thigh, and, instead of the thought-out words he was going to say, the only thing that spills past his lips is a moan and a breathy "stay" on the tail end of it. the muscles in his arms give out and he collapses on top of lando, his face tucked into the crook of lando's neck, and when he inhales, lando's fingers already raking soothing rows along his scalp, he smells champagne, sweat, and lando's body wash.
"stay."
"okay, osc. i can do that."
oscar isn't sure how long they lay there, lando's left hand resting in the small of oscar's back and his right rubbing soothing lines into oscar's scalp, but by the time his heart rate slows and his brain stops running a mile a minute, the desperation and speed that he was ready to fuck lando with has sunk out of his body. there's only one problem- well, rather, two problems, but one stems from the other. one: oscar and lando are both still hard. two: neither of them have the energy required for prep, sex, and aftercare.
lando is able to solve both of those problems, though.
"osc?"
"hm?"
"do you want me to get you off?" oscar's face flushes, a whine falling from his lips in embarrassment, but he nods into lando's neck. "yeah?" oscar nods again. "okay, baby. i'm gonna need you to get these off for me, though." he thumbs at the elastic waistband of oscar's boxers, and oscar is barely able to muster enough strength to push himself up and off of lando's chest to pull his boxers off and toss them aside before falling back onto lando. "can you roll over for me, baby?" okay, scratch that. now he summons the last of his strength to roll off of lando, wincing slightly when the long-forgotten bottle of lube and condom dig into his ribs.
"hey." lando's voice has a tenderness to it that oscar's never heard before, used to the constant energy and bubbly laughs, and it makes something stir deep in oscar's chest. before he can prod into it and try to figure out what it might be, though, lando's rolling over and slotting his left leg between oscar's, leaning down, and kissing oscar with a certain softness that leaves every point of contact with lando's body fizzling with electricity. it's a unique and beautifully intimate moment, chests pressed together and bodies touching everywhere they possibly can as hands grasp for places to hold the other closer.
oscar moans into the kiss, high and pathetic, when lando takes both of their cocks into his hand, and even dry, he thinks he could cum just like that.
"oh, fuck, lando-" oscar's eyes are screwed shut, panting as lando continues licking into his mouth, running his tongue along oscar's lips before dipping down to oscar's neck, mimicking the same actions there. lando can't form a verbal response, so he simply hums relishing in the taste of oscar's skin. the aussie doesn't want to admit just how keyed up he is, doesn't want to admit the fact that, with a little bit of lube and a little bit of movement, he'd be cumming onto lando's hand.
thankfully, though, lando seems to be in the same boat, and he makes that very well known with a perfectly timed gentle thrust of his hips forward and a slight loosening of his hand, and the sound that it pulls from oscar's throat can only be described as unholy. "osc..."
"like this, lando, please."
"fuck, me too." oscar jumps slightly when the cold lube hits his cock, but with the slide it adds and the grip around lando's big hand has around them both and the fact that he's completely caged in and every single sense is flooded with lando, lando, lando, the temperature difference is rapidly forgotten in favor of white-hot pleasure. he can't stop himself- his hips are canting up into lando's hand, and it just feels so, so good. oscar's ears aren't processing the difference between his moans and lando's, so all he knows is that there's sounds of sex filling the hotel room, the wet slide of his cock along lando's, and it's so much at once.
when lando's hips start moving, too, fucking into his own fist, oscar throws his head back into the fluffy pillow and groans so loud that he gets a flickering sense of sympathy for whatever neighbors may share a wall with this hotel room, but it's immediately wiped from his brain as lando's lips meet his once more.
oscar isn't sure how much time passes, his lips and tongue gliding along lando's and their hips fucking into lando's hand, but his ears finally process that lando's moaning his name, desperately mouthing at his neck. "oscar, aah, fuck, i'm gonna cum, please, 'm gonna cum-" and, well. oscar didn't think he had a thing for begging, much less a thing for his teammate begging, yet here he is.
"yeah. yeah, go for it. cum for me, baby." before oscar finishes talking, his words breathy and faint, lando's cumming with a cry, his hips shuddering as his cum paints his hand and oscar's cock and stomach in a pearly white. oscar looks down, and the sight he's met with is absolutely filthy. past the mop of lando's curly hair and sweat-shiny skin, he sees the way lando's muscles tense with every thrust and the way his dick is painted white with cum and lube.
"fuck, fuck, fuck, osc, love you, love you so much." and that's what sends him over the edge, muscles in his torso tensing as he grasps desperately at lando's shoulders.
"aah, lan- love you. love you."
The Honda Odyssey
Logan Howlett / The Wolverine x Reader Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.
6k words - I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the love he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance. T-T
Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.
If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.
In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.
Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.
So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.
One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.
Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men. Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.
No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.
In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.
To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.
“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “
“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”
“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.” Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”
You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.
You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.
“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”
“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.
It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.
Wrong.
You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.
Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.
Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.
Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.
Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.
For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.
Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.
You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since.
You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.
In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”
Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.
“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.
Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.
Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.
Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.
You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.
Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.
It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.
Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.
Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.
Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.
That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.
It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?
In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.
You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.
Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.
Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.
“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.
Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?
“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”
“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.
The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.
“I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.
Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.
“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”
You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.
Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.
“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.
“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”
“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”
Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.
It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.
You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?
The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.
One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.
All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.
With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.
“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.
“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.
Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.
“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.
“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”
“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”
You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.
“He say where he was taking him?”
“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.
“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”
“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”
“Can you do your sniffy thing?” Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.
“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.
“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.
“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”
“You can smell him from the car?”
“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”
“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.
After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.
“What’s your world like?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“
“What did you just say?”
“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“
“No before that.”
“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.
The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.
“What do you mean if?”
“I…”
“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”
“I mean I think they can!”
“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.
“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.
“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”
“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.
“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”
“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.
“No – fuck you.” Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “
He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together. “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”
Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.
“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.
“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.
“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.
The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.
“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.
Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda.
Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.
If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.
You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.
It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.
Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.
Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.
“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.
Yes.
You really do that.
You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.
“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.
“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”
The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.
“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”
Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.
The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.
The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.
The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss. His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.
You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply. Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.
He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.
Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.
You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.
“You sure you want this Darlin’?”
“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”
Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.
“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core. “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”
Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”
You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.
“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.
Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.
You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.
Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.
“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”
You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.
“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”
He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.
The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.
You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.
You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.
“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you. If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.
The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes. Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.
“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.
You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.
You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.
Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.
“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.
Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.
Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.
“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.
When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.
“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.
“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.
“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.
“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.
You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.
Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.
The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.
After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.
The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.
“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.
“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.
“Well, well, well. Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."
Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.
"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone! Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”
wait.
Fuck the constructors they are trying to beat Lestappan on ao3 top 100
MAX IS SO CUTE AND FOR WHAT
how are these 9 whole ass years apart
THE LAST PICTURE IM CRYING AKJSHAJKSJAS
what driving a redbull does to a mfs
someone tried to tell me that top gun isn’t gay at all and that it’s rude to assume people are gay
dude… did we watch the same movie??
because like what the fuck is this:
🥺
FUCK ALL THE HOES WHO SAID OSCAR’S WIN IN HUNGARY WASNT VALID. said it was handed to him. what the fuck are y’all going to say now—beautiful driving, future world champion. so happy his momma is there to see him win < 333
revenge from mclaren for ferrari’s monza win, a beautiful weekend for my boys. lando in 4th, an extra point for fastest lap, from qualifying 17th and starting 15th. leading in the constructors championship. yall can’t say we don’t have one of the best driver pairings on the grid.
life as a mclaren fan when you forget about papaya rules and appreciate both drivers for their skill and dual world championship winning potential is truly wonderful.
I JUST FUCKING SOBBED AHAHAHAHAHAHA
“Maybe,” Max says, placing his hand on the edge of the top crate, just centimeters away from Charles’ thigh, “they should have asked whose hotel room you stayed in last night?”
Redbull!Charles from all to play for by @drivestraight
Rambling under the cut for author…
I feel like I owe a lot to this fic. Objects in mirror was my gateway drug into lestappen and pretty much the reason why I decided to stick around in the fandom in the first place. Completely blown away by how insanely well written it was. And subsequently fell so deep into the ship. I remember first finding it in around February? Gave you a big rambling anon ask back then about how good it was too fnjfnf I still reread it once a month just to relive the emotions.
I saw an ask you answered the other day saying you don’t get fanart that often and I was like ?!?? How is this possible?? Not under my watch
I know you’re not much into lestappen anymore but I’m really grateful for all the fics you’ve written for them! Just happy to read anything you post nowadays, doesn’t matter what ship. I love your writing so much. You’re extremely talented ❤️
Hope u like the art, it was made with lots of love 🫶
S2 has ruined me. I will never ever be the same fucking person again
Satosugu in 2x02
↳ anime vs manga
bonus:
boyfriends being boyfriends (′ꈍωꈍ‵)
You think you're the painter, but you're actually just the canvas
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