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viennakarma · 7 months

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Everything I Wanted III.

LESTAPPEN x READER (PART 3/FINALE)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 10k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, open ending, HEA, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are also a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is a tiny bit angsty. Maybe I should've mentioned it before, but both Max and Charles are single in this story. I'm sorry if it feels rushed or if it has any mistakes, I just let my heart go with the flow!

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spend a few days in some happy daze, just shamelessly bashing in your Championship. Everyone knew because you were positively giddy during the last race week in Abu Dhabi, you were seen smiling more during that one week than you had been seen smiling in your three years of Formula 1.

Some of the drivers were even more amicable towards you and your closest friends were even teasing you all the time, calling you Champion so they could see you blush and giggle.

“Hey there, Champ,” Lewis would greet you.

“Buenos días, campeona,” Fernando would say and laugh at your reaction.

Lando even joked to some reporter that you were in love with the championship.

There was a dinner organized by the drivers to say farewell to Sebastian. Despite knowing most drivers confirmed their presence there, you planned to go and leave early because you always felt left out whenever most drivers got together.

That’s why you texted Lewis to ask what he was wearing that night, and you ended up wearing high waisted suede pants, and a white T-shirt, finishing with a classic black scarpin in your feet and a purse.

Since you and Nando were in the same hotel, you decided to go together with his driver. Only when you got to the car, Charles was also inside the car, and you had to sit quietly by his side, his thigh brushing yours. Nando was in the passenger seat, and you started small talk with him to diffuse the tension he was unaware was happening in the backseat. You were engaged in conversation with Nando when you felt Charles fingers touching your knee. Jolting, you immediately slapped his hand away.

“You ok there?” Nando asked from the front of the car.

“Uh, yes! Just an- annoying mosquito!” You said, faking a smile.

Charles pouted, crossing his arms and pointedly looking to the window of his side.

As the three of you arrived there, half of the grid was already there, seated and chatting. Lewis welcomed you first, warning that he purposefully invited Sebastian to arrive thirty minutes later, so he was the last to arrive. As you sat beside Nando, you noticed how Charles sat beside you again, facing Pierre across the table, and you ended up facing Max. Your eyes met, but you looked away, deciding to focus on conversation with Nando and Lando, who was in front of him.

When Seb arrived, he was welcomed with a round of applause, which made his cheeks redden a little as he laughed. The dinner went well, and you shared red wine with a few of the others, some of them preferred other drinks. It was nice chatting with everyone, and it was the first time you really felt part of the group, everyone together laughing and eating.

“Y/N, who’s your idol from this table?” Carlos asked with a smirk.

“You wanna put me in trouble,” you eyed around. Everyone knew that the people you were closest with, Lewis, Seb and Nando were your racing idols.

“Come on, your favorite, Lewis, Seb or Fernando?” Lando joined in, and the others joined too, egging you on.

“Kimi is my favorite,” you muttered before taking a sip of your wine. Everyone started shouting and calling you a liar, “fine, fine, it doesn’t mean I’m not a big fan of the other two, but growing up, I’ve always wanted to race like Fernando.”

“And now you do,” Fernando said, raising his glass in a toast, which honestly made you blush. Everyone started making fun of you because you were shy and giggly.

You ended up staying until the end, when everyone had to leave to get a good night of sleep for the free practices the next day.

Race day there was a small ceremony to say goodbye to Sebastian, and it was the only part of the week that made you a little sad, even though part of you were really happy knowing he would get to spend time with his family and dedicate himself to his projects of sustainability. When the drivers made a little corridor to applaud him, Sebastian hugged you and you felt a little teary eyed.

The race was great, and you put some effort into winning that one, because you wanted to finish the season with a bang. And a bang it was, holding the P1 trophy again, kissing it and then raising it high as homage to mom.

After the season ended officially, you went straight to Woking to visit the factory and thank everyone personally for making you a car fast enough to make you the champion. Then you had a few media commitments, had to go over some marketing and legal meetings about brands deals and whatnot interested in your image.

Finally, by the beginning of December, you went back to Monaco and slept in for a few days, relaxing body and mind.

When Lando found out you were living in Monaco, he invited you to a padel match, and despite not knowing the game very well, you never said no to any form of competitive sport that could take your mind off things.

“I’ll let you know, I’m a fast learner, Landito.” You pointed when he gave you a padel racket.

“Come on, you have 20 minutes to learn the basics before our competition is here,” he said.

“Oh, we’ll be playing as duos?” You smiled, letting him lead you to the court.

Lando taught you the basics for a while, and you were getting the hang of it when you heard voices behind you. You stopped short as you noticed your competition were Charles and Max, and as they saw you, they too seemed surprised.

“Hello,” you greeted them with a nod.

Luckily Lando didn’t waste any time with pleasantries and went straight to the game. Which was great, since that was a language you could speak. You soon noticed Charles and Max had a bit more experience than you, so you had to up your game a bit, using strategy to outsmart them.

You and Lando won three games and Charles and Max won four.

As you finished, you went to the net and shook their hands. Max stared at you intensely, but you ignored him and went grab your bag.

“You’re leaving?” Lando asked, “we were going to grab a snack after.”

“Oh, um, yeah- I gotta go, I still have a lot to do around the apartment and I’m waiting for some furniture to arrive,” you gave an excuse.

“You’re living in Monaco?” Charles asked, visibly surprised at the info.

“Yeah. So, bye. Thanks for the game.” You started walking away, but Lando jogged to catch up to you.

“Hey, uh- text me when you’re free this weekend. I wanted to talk to you privately about… McLaren” he whispered your team’s name and you raised an eyebrow, you had no idea what he wanted to talk about, but you nodded.

Lando ended up coming over to your apartment Saturday afternoon, he helped you paint your living room walls a soft green, and after you finished, you were eating a few snacks when he finally said what he wanted to talk about.

“So, I know that legally we shouldn’t be talking about it, but- for how long is your new contract with McLaren?” He breached the subject. You paused.

“What? You know my contract ends by the end of next season.”

“Yeah but- the new one-”

He silenced himself abruptly, probably realizing you didn’t get a new one. You pressed your lips in a thin line. You had a contract similar to Lando’s, that would end by the end of next year. But now- now Lando had been offered a renovation, and you weren’t.

“They offered you an extension already?” You asked, shocked.

“No- I mean- It’s just-” Lando realized by your face that he had fucked up.

“Lando.”

“Yes, from 2024 on, with possible extensions,” He said, apologetically.

“Oh” you whispered.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure they are just taking their time putting your contract together since you’re, you know, the world champion,” Lando startled rambling, until his phone started ringing, “I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’m streaming tonight and I need to set up. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sure they’ll offer your renewal soon.”

You bid him goodbye, still processing his words. You tried to be reasonable and not be upset, but the prospect of not receiving a proposal being the world champion didn’t sit right with you. You meditated, thinking to not let that get to you, but a few days before the FIA Gala, you received a proposal from Mercedes, and another from Aston Martin. Both were great, great contracts. They offered a lot of money, security and great publicity.

The night of the Gala, you went all out. Amanda helped you hire a glam team, so you had make up, hair and stylists helping you dress. You wore a silver dress, long with a high slit on the leg, black heels, and your hair was short now, shoulder length and dyed black. You wanted a femme fatale look, and that’s what you got.

Unfortunately, Kimi and Minttu couldn’t go with you, and you didn’t bother to find a date, opting to go by yourself. When you arrived at the ceremony, all eyes were on you. You posed a little by the red carpet and answered a few questions about the championship.

During the ceremony you sat with Lewis, chatting up until the main awards were called. You watched as Charles went up the stage for the third place trophy, he was handsome wearing some designer suit and tie, and glasses that made him even more attractive. He said a couple of words, before making his way down. Then was Max, wearing a gorgeous tux, perfectly tailored to his shoulders and waist. While he was talking, you fixed the bust of your dress and waited for your name to be called alongside the words world champion.

When you got to the stairs, Max was down there, and he offered you a gentlemanly arm to help you up, you hesitated for a brief second but then accepted, letting him guide you up the steps.

Your eyes were on the beautiful trophy. The smile on your face was big, almost giddy, as you went on the stage. You kissed your trophy, leaving a red lipstick stain on the side of it, and you stopped by the mic. After a brief second to recollect your thoughts, you sighed.

“Wow! It’s such an honor to receive this as a token of my hard work and all my years facing pushback for this dream,” you smiled down at the trophy, “I’ll try and keep it brief. I know I have already said some of this, but I’d like to thank my team, not only for making this amazing car that became part of me during this season, but also for giving me a chance three years ago. Thanks to Jace and Amanda, who were such great help this year. I’d like to thank Kimi for seeing me when I was on the brink of giving up and when no scouts looked in my direction, and Minttu for taking me in as one of her own,” you put a hand on your chest, above your heart as your voice choked a little, heavy with emotion, “Thank you, Sebastian and Fernando for accepting my friendship when everyone else turned their backs on me,” you found them both around the crowd, Nando sending you a wink, and Sebastian smiling wildly, “and last but not least, I’d like to thank my mum for working hard to put a roof over my head and food on the table while I was out there hustling for my dream.”

Everyone clapped and you waited for the applause to die down. You could end your speech there, but you wouldn’t be the Lioness if you did.

“Oh, and for those who said I wasn’t gonna go far… You can suck my-” you interrupted yourself, showing your tongue cheekily, making almost everyone in the room laugh.

That night you drank, danced and sang like never before. You woke up hungover and a little blacked out, not remembering the whole night, only some glimpses of it.

You stayed the Holidays with Kimi and his family, and despite being invited by Lando to a big New Year’s Eve party, you opted for a chill celebration. You still found time to send Sebastian and his family some Christmas presents and you managed to go karting with Fernando on his track in Asturias.

After meeting with Fernando, you went on a solo trip around Spain, visiting cities and learning a little bit about history while practicing your spanish. You also tried a few hobbies, out of curiosity. You tried playing tennis, skydiving and surfing.

Soon, you were back in Monaco to resume your training for next season and traveling to Woking to see your new car. You also sat with Amanda and your lawyer, and accepted a few brand deals, one for makeup and another for a big fashion brand. You were genuinely happy with both, you always wanted to get into fashion but never had the time or knack for it, but now with your deal, they would link you to a stylist and give you outfit options.

You entered the new season fresh, feeling good not only about your talent as a racing driver, but about your looks and new style, feeling that your championship could finally back you up.

Only if the media got the memo.

“Y/N do you believe when people attribute your championship win to Verstappen’s mistake?”

You felt fire in your throat, anger bubbling up.

“No, I believe I won the championship because I drove well the whole season. I attribute my championship to myself, my talent and my hard work,” your tone was harsh, and you didn’t even bother to sound pleasant, “I wonder if this was asked to every other Formula 1 champion of the world or just me?”

You huffed, putting your mic down, and you saw Fernando leaning towards you to whisper, “it’s good to have the Lioness back.”

It was different seeing Nando wearing green now and Sebastian’s absence was noticed from day one. He had sent you a text wishing good luck in the season.

There was also a weird shift that you noticed soon, right in the first few races. The rivalry between Max and Charles had been placated a little. They were still rivals on the track, but out of it, they were seen chatting and discussing, all in good spirits and friendly. Whatever rift had caused the tension all these years was apparently mended. So now, they were only your rivals, together against the greater evil. You.

Without a win in the first three races that season, you were sure something was wrong. Could it be your car, but it could also be you.

You came out of debriefing feeling a stress induced headache starting. You walked around the paddock aimlessly, just trying to clear your head and not face any photographer or reporter. That’s why you were around the moving boxes and trucks, trying to find a secluded spot to breathe and meditate.

Unfortunately, you ended up facing two people pressed against a wall. Frowning, you tried to understand what was going on, when you realized it was Max and Charles. Their sides were pressed on each other, but what caught your attention was that they were holding hands, whispering to each other.

You paused, trying to make sense of it. And then Max caressed Charles’ jaw. Then you decided, it was none of your business whatever they did.

Turning around, you were leaving when you stepped on something and it broke loudly. You just kept walking away, not looking back, you were almost leaving the lot when someone held your wrist, making you turn back around.

“Wait, Y/N, we- we can-” Charles’ voice failed him, visibly nervous.

“We can buy your silence,” Max added, suddenly. You frowned, shaking your head.

“I didn’t see anything,” you muttered trying to walk away, but now Max also held your other wrist.

“Say your price,” Max pressed further, making you angry.

“I don’t know what kind of psycho you take me for, but I didn’t see anything,” you say, suggestively, “I wouldn’t want someone to out me, and I wouldn’t do that to anyone else either. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Fuck,” Max whispered, letting go of your hand.

“You- you promise?” Charles asked, still not letting go of you.

“I swear on my mom’s grave.” You said softly just because you could understand their fear, you knew first hand how cruel the motorsport world could be. Whatever was going on between them was none of your business.

You left without another word, hoping they believed you.

The season kept going, and your car wasn’t as good as the year before which was really upsetting you and forcing you to work even harder to match your quality the previous year.

But also both Max and Charles stopped publicly taunting you, making people wonder if your rivalry had ended. It was annoying because that dynamic was all that you’ve known from them, and the fact that they stopped shading you because they were scared to anger you and you eventually exposed them to the world was even more annoying. You wondered if you should talk to them, to let them know it was never coming out of your mouth.

You decided silence was the best course of action. You had enough problems with your car as it was.

Before the fifth race of the season, all the drivers were called for a meeting, to talk about a few safety measures that were being put in place for paddock safety. You sat through it quietly, only listening to the FIA representative. You knew that meeting was because of what had happened to you in Zandvoort the year before, you had taken your complaints to the FIA and miraculously, they had abided by it.

You left the meeting as soon as it was over, walking away. But then, you touched your wrist as a nervous tic.

No. No.

You noticed you didn’t have your watch with you the moment you left the building, patting your pockets to make sure it wasn’t there as you ran right back to the meeting room where the drivers debrief had been.

As soon as you entered, you saw both Max and Charles checking the watch, the monegasque was the one holding it.

“Hey, uh-” you paused, trying to not sound rude, “that’s mine, can I have it back?”

Charles looked at you with that smirk as Max moved away a few steps. Charles opened his hand in your direction, handing you the watch. But as you were to grab it, he pulled back and threw it. You froze, seeing the watching flying directly into Max’s awaiting hands behind you.

“Please, don't-” you gasped as Max pretended to throw it back to Charles. But he didn’t, he just extended his open hand to you, probably noticing the worry in your face.

Skittishly, you got closer to him and grabbed the watch from his hand. He didn’t pull away like Charles had done.

But as you pulled it back, your own hand slipped the watch, and you eyed it with horror as it hit the ground immediately breaking the crystal. You felt like your heart was breaking along with your mom’s watch.

“No, no,” you whispered, kneeling down to take it back.

“Hey, what is happ-” you heard Lewis’ voice entering the room but he stopped short as he saw you almost crying on the floor. He immediately helped you get up.

Both Max and Charles were shocked, still rooted to the spot as it was the first time they ever saw you show any kind of extreme emotion, and the pain in your eyes made both of them get filled with guilt.

You stood up still holding the watch in your hand as a fragile thing, pretty much like your heart.

“Hey, kiddo. Come on,” Lewis put an arm around your shoulders, pushing you away softly after giving the other two drivers a nasty glare.

You didn’t try to get it fixed, and you still wore it even with the crystal shattered. You knew it was a relic, vintage and probably handmade since it was generations in your family. But also you were too emotionally attached to it to get rid of the watch.

After the race, once you got a P2, finally, you went to the hotel, skipping the celebration the team wanted to throw for you but still picking the bill for their night out.

It was late at night when you were rewatching the race, trying to see whatever mistake caused you to miss that P1 that was just within reach but you didn’t manage to take it. You were taking notes, typing in your laptop, when a knock on your door interrupted. You had already ordered room service, but sometimes Amanda did it for you if she thought you weren’t eating enough.

You opened the door to be faced with Max and Charles.

“Can we come in?” Charles asked, and confused, you opened the door wider to let them in.

“We came to apologize about the watch, we’re sorry.” Max started, looking at Charles for his cue.

“That was really immature of us, sorry,” Charles added.

“It’s alright,” you sighed, a little tired, “it’s not your fault, really. I dropped it, not you.”

“But it wouldn’t have happened if we just didn’t mess around with you.”

You sighed again, despite being sad about the watch, you didn’t really blame them for it. Charles took your hand suddenly, making you stare up at them, both of them looking at the broken watch you were still wearing. Max opened the bag and handed you a small box. It was a Rolex.

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” he handed you the watch. You stared at the box, taking it as a sign of good faith from them.

“Thanks,” you whispered, “I was just eating, you wanna join me?”

They nodded, uncertain. They followed you to the en-suite, the most recent race paused on the TV. You closed your laptop.

“I appreciate the gesture, but-” you unclasped the watch in your wrist, handing it to Charles who was sitting closer to you, “it has emotional value, it was mum’s.”

You waited as they read the inscription, Charles gasping when he realized it had way more value to you than the stupidly expensive Rolex they managed to buy you. Running his thumb on the inscription, Max looked at you.

“I know a guy back home, he- he can fix the crystal,” Max told you, “would you trust me to take it to get fixed? It’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have to,” you shook your head, “I don’t blame you for breaking it.”

“Please?” Max asked, and something inside you spread warmth in your chest.

“Fine,” you sighed, seeing Max pocket your watch in his bag, “please, help yourselves.”

They went to the table of room service and grabbed a bit of food. They sat around.

“You were rewatching the race?”

“Yeah, I like taking notes, seeing what I can improve…”

You closed your laptop and the TV, not wanting them to check your confidential information.

“How are you feeling this year?” Max asked, awkwardly trying to start a conversation.

“I’m alright, I guess. I mean, the car could be better,” you shrugged.

“And about your mom?” Charles looked at you intently.

“It’s grief, right?” You blinked slowly, “it comes and goes in waves. Sometimes they’re tiny waves breaking on your ankles, and sometimes it feels like you’re going to drown in them.”

There’s a brief silence, but when you meet his eyes, Charles’ eyes shine in understanding.

“I know.”

Max managed to change topics, talking about the track, the race and his impressions. Was a safe topic, lighter. You didn’t notice how, but you three ended up sitting in a small circle on the floor. Max was passionately talking about track adherence, and he was so focused on his explanation that it was actually funny. You eyed Charles, and you two bursted out laughing, which made Max stop, looking at you confused.

When you stopped laughing, sitting straight, Charles was suddenly very close. Way closer than before. His face was just a few centimeters away from yours, and it made you dizzy.

You snapped your head to Max, who was looking at you with just as much desire as Charles. He nodded to you, giving you permission.

Charles held your face and kissed you, softly and tentatively. You broke the kiss, looking from Charles’ beautiful eyes to Max’s. You watched as Max shifted closer to you, holding your jaw as he kissed you too.

You couldn’t wrap your head around what was happening, but you were very shocked and equally turned on.

Max’s hand slid from your jaw, down to your neck, and you were still wide eyed, your breathing progressively more shallow. You felt Charles behind you, his hand on your waist, pressing softly. You closed your eyes as Max slowly closed the distance between you again, and you felt his lips pressing against yours. With shaky fingers, your hands trailed beneath his shirt, up his back, nails grazing his skin. While you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, you moaned, feeling Charles leaving open mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder, goosebumps rising in your skin. It was overwhelming, because they were everywhere, hands, lips and bodies stealing your breath. Everything was so hot, you felt like removing your clothes and the pulsing in your shamelessly wet panties.

“Take it off,” Max breathed after breaking the kiss, he helped the monegasque, who quickly tore your clothes leaving you only in panties. Max pushed you until your back was on the floor, and he and Charles were kneeling on each side of your body. “Charlie, come kiss her.”

Charles laid down, kissing you gently first, then deepening the kiss until you were pawing his waist and torso under his shirt. Seeing your struggle, he removed the shirt himself, while Max watched, running both hands up and down your thighs. Max suddenly pulled Charles closer, kissing him, their kiss was just as hard and messy as the kisses they had given you. Seeing the way their lips explored each other made you even wetter, and you couldn’t help but run your finger above your slit, your pussy still clothed. They removed each other’s clothes very fast.

They stopped, and Max soon removed your panties, laying between your legs. You moaned as his tongue lapped at your pussy, tentatively and Charles leaned down to kiss you again. Your heart was running insane, so fast you thought it would stop. Charles went lower and mouthed at your nipples, and you reached for his cock.

“Spit,” you ordered Charles, offering the palm of your hand. A little hesitantly, he did, a glob of spit on the palm of your hand and you grabbed his cock again, and he moaned out loud feeling the glide of your hand.

You felt one of Max’s fingers inside you, twisting so good that you had to hold his head, grinding your hips into him. The pleasure of Max working your cunt was so blinding that you lost focus on the handjob, but it didn’t deter Charles, who just decided to fuck into your hand.

You looked down, just to see Max looking straight at you through his lashes. He sucked at your clit, watching you writhe and come undone, grinding your hips on his face, wetting half of his face as he devoured you.

“Charlie will fuck you now, yeah?” Max asked as you recovered, and he carried you to the couch, positioned you on his lap, facing Charles, who just knelt between your legs.

Charles filled you up in one swift movement, and you moaned at the tight fit, melting into Max just behind you, holding you firmly, one hand on your neck, the other across your abdomen. The dutch kissed your neck, biting and sucking your skin, but his eyes trained on the way Charles’ hips started moving into you, you pulled Max’s hand that was on your neck and put it over your mouth, to muffle your moans, he pushed two fingers in your mouth and you sucked. The pressure was deliriously good, and Charles kept blabbering about how good you felt, and how warm was your cunt, and you were making him feel so good, mixed with lots of french expletives. Charles pressed further, his chest against yours as he found Max over your shoulder and kissed him. You felt Max’s hand that was between your bodies, find its way to your clit, rubbing in circles and pushing you even faster to your second orgasm, drooling over the fingers he still had in your mouth, you hips shaking so much you were rubbing Max’s cock with your ass, at the same time that Charles came crashing down, filling you up as he moaned out loud.

“My turn now, yes?” Max said, repositioning you like a ragdoll, while Charles laid down, pulling you on all fours on top of him, as Max took his turn behind you.

Charles pulled your face closer, kissing you all sloppy and open mouthed as Max filled you up to the hilt, making your knees shake. As if he knew, and he probably did, Charles held your hips up when Max started pistoning into you, fucking you so good you could only hold onto Charles and bite into his shoulders to keep yourself from being too loud.

You did not sleep that night. Max and Charles’ stamina wa otherworldly, and you three kept fucking until morning came. Sometimes you just watched them, sometimes you took one while the other rested, sometimes you took them at the same time. With them, you tried more adventurous positions than you had tried your entire life. They had a different way of finding out the workings of your body, of discovering the rhythm you liked and the sound of your moaning echoing on the walls.

The second time they slipped into your room was almost three weeks later, under the guise that they wanted to give your watch back now fixed.

After a little chit chat Max pulled you into his lap and Charles pressed his chest to your back and in minutes you three were naked, touching and kissing and moaning into each other's mouth.

It became some sort of routine, every few weeks, they would sneak into your room, and you’d bang them any way you wanted.

Then they would stay more, bring dinner or put on a movie. They would snuggle with you in bed while the movie played, Max holding your thigh softly and you playing with Charles’ hair. It was good to unwind and forget about Formula 1.

Every day, after they left, you’d whisper to yourself.

“Don’t get too attached, Y/N. They’re your rivals.”

You didn’t want to poison all the sexy moments and all the tranquility they made you feel, but at the same time, you didn’t want to get too caught up in this. It should be fun, but it couldn’t be more than that.

Racing was never a topic of conversation between you, not only because those few hours together were sacred but also because all three of you were rivals and were in different teams, which could get very messy, very quickly.

Eventually, after Barcelona, McLaren brought a new upgrade. Which for you, it was a godsend. Finally, you could get back on your feet again. The car felt lighter and you had much more control. And in Montreal, you finally got the first win of the season. A huge weight was lifted from your shoulders and you even cried a couple of tears finishing the race first for the first time that year. And it was also the first 1-2 you and Lando had ever, which was even more reason for celebration.

You and Lando ended up closing a club for your celebration, inviting the whole team.

Max and Charles were there too, and they spent most of the night in a booth, chatting among other drivers. You knew they were watching you even pretending not to, and it was a matter of time until they had drunk enough to approach you. So you decided to not stay late and just leave.

You bid Lando goodbye quickly, telling him you were tired even if it was relatively early for a clubbing night. As you made your way to the most discreet exit, you felt a hand on your forearm, pulling you to a corner, and you were faced with both Charles and Max.

“Leaving so soon, chéri?” Charles asked, eyes glossy and probably a little tipsy.

“We came here to celebrate you,” Max said, one hand going around your waist. Wide eyed, you immediately pushed his hand away, taking a step back. They were confused.

“Not here. Too public, someone might see us, or even take pictures.”

“Don’t be like that, there is no one around now,” Charles pointed around, and granted, it was really empty on that side of the club, but anyone could walk in any moment.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, “not in public.”

“You’re ashamed of us?” Max squinted, looking into your eyes.

“I never said that. I can’t risk anything happening to my image just because I wanted to screw someone.”

“So that’s how you see us? A good fuck and nothing else?” Max pressed you further.

“Again,” you repeated slowly, your patience running thin, “that’s not what I said,” there was a tense pause and you pinched the bridge of your nose, “look, we all had more than enough to drink, and this is not the moment or the place for this conversation.”

“No, no,” Charles shook his head, “I believe you made yourself clear enough.”

With that, they walked away clearly pissed with you. Going back to the hotel, you knew there was nothing you could do at that moment to change their minds. They wouldn’t understand your point of view that easily, not only because they were drunk, but also because they weren’t a woman in Formula 1. Everyone fed off your failures like vultures, and if it leaked that you were going out not only with one, but with two other drivers, you knew you could kiss your career goodbye.

The media was never the kindest to you, and the majority of the fans weren’t either, so you knew how it would look if anyone found out about you three. They already call you slut without any knowledge of your romantic history, they would ruin your life if they were to know. And most certainly question not only your seat in Formula 1 but also your World Championship.

You just hoped you could explain that to Charles and Max when they were with clear heads.

Only you didn’t.

They never came back to your room, nor did they answer your texts.

Two entire weeks passed with only anguish gnawing at your insides, trying to reach them privately, but failing miserably. They were not only ignoring you, but also avoiding you. You couldn’t take it anymore, so in Austria, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You’d corner the first one you saw.

And that was Charles right before the drivers parade. You were the first ones to get there, which gave you some sense of privacy, well, as much as you could.

“You need to listen to me, this is a misunderstanding, Charles.”

But he straight up ignored you, not even bothering to look in your direction. With a heavy heart, you nodded, moving away from him. Making peace with the fact that maybe this was the end of your little affair. They had not understood you, and had ignored all your efforts to explain, closing the door of whatever was going on.

Resolute, you decided that maybe it was for the best. If they couldn’t understand where you were coming from, then better say farewell already. But you couldn’t help that anguishing feeling in your stomach.

It showed to be true during the race, when you were P4 fighting to get into the podium at least. Max was P3, and he fought tooth and nail to not allow you to pass, even if you had the pace to overtake him. You tried a risky move, one you had learned from Fernando Alonso. Pretend you’re going to overtake on one side, let him defend that side, then push your car to the other side and dive for the position.

You almost did the full move, but when you were going for the position, Max just pushed his car into your side, which caused you to lose control and you spun to the gravel. You just decelerated as much as you could. You left the car and went back to the pits with the help of marshals. You didn’t bother to even look into Max’s direction, feeling your eyes getting teary. You weighted with your helmet on, and only took it off inside the garage, because you didn’t want people to see you cry.

It was relatively normal to DFN because of a crash, and given the history of rivalry between you and Max, it was also very common to collide with him. What made you upset wasn’t him protecting his position, but him purposefully taking you out, like he was just getting back at you because he was angry. You had left enough space for him. Despite the overtaking maneuver being a little risky, you never once got close enough to him that you could cause an accident. He had not slipped and lost control. He had not tried to avoid you. He just ran straight into your sidepod.

“What happened today?” A reporter asked you when you went to the post race interviews.

“What is there to say? I think the images speak for themselves.” You shrugged, feeling tired but not wanting to give the media too much as to not cause a PR nightmare to Amanda.

“Seems like the FIA will investigate Max Verstappen because of today’s incident.” Someone else mentioned, and you couldn’t help but scoff.

“I’m sure they will,” you muttered, voice laced with sarcasm.

The debriefing was just as bad with your Team Principal calling you out in front of the whole team not only for damaging your car but also for putting yourself at risk like that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I did what any other driver would do in my position!” You sighed trying to calm down, “don’t make me quote Ayrton Senna to you. If you no longer go for a gap that exists, then you’re no longer a racing driver. You and everyone saw that Verstappen didn’t have the pace to match me, so he just plunged into me to take me out!”

God, you needed an ice bath. And maybe a new punchbag.

You were getting ready to leave when Max came up to you. You didn’t say anything to him, you honestly didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. You just wanted to go home and cry under the shower.

He was red in the face and looked distressed. You couldn’t help but feel defensive, holding your bag to your chest.

“I really don’t want to talk to you right now,” you said, trying to walk away but he blocked your path.

“Listen,” he started and the moment he raised his hand to remove his cap, it triggered you, and you flinched as if he was gonna hit you.

He stopped immediately, because he knew that was a trauma response. He knew that him being angry must have reminded you of your father growing up. He knew all that because he too, sometimes, had this kind of knee jerk reaction.

But you felt sick to your stomach. It wasn’t intentional, but it made you look like you believed he would’ve hit you, and rationally you knew he wouldn’t do that. But your stupid body did.

You avoided Max and walked away as fast as you could.

Back in the hotel you just packed your bags and left, going straight to the airport to fly back to Monaco. You were exhausted by the time you made it home, but you still took a shower and cried a couple of tears under the streaming water.

In bed, you tried to convince yourself this ending for your fling with them was for the best. It was too complicated anyway.

And you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t miss the feel of Max’s lips against your neck, or the feel of your hands pulling Charles’ hair softly. Or the way Charles used to mumble French mindlessly whenever he was concentrating on something. Or how often Max would do his maxplaining with his vast knowledge of the most random topics.

Your body was so tired but your mind just did not shut off.

You were a couple of hours into staring at the ceiling when the doorbell rang. Carefully, you went there, it was the middle of the night, so you checked the door camera to see both Max and Charles by the door.

Slowly, you opened to them. You swallowed, waiting for them to say something. You felt so vulnerable, this knot in your stomach had been tormenting you since the day they walked away.

“I’m- we’re really sorry,” Max started.

“For ignoring you and mistreating you and never once giving you the chance to explain your side,” Charles took a small step inside.

It was like a dam broke, and you ran into their embrace, sobbing. All three of you hugged, Charles with a comforting hand on your back and Max kissing the side of your head. They patiently waited for you to calm down, and then closed the door and walked you to the sofa.

“I missed you,” you murmured, holding Max’s jaw to peck his lips, doing the same to Charles, “I’m so sorry about everything.”

“Can we talk?” Charles asked, “you said it was a misunderstanding.”

You nodded, taking your phone from your room. You sat on the coffee table as you gave them your phone with your instagram profile opened.

“Check the comments on my last post,” you pointed and they sat side by side scrolling through it, the horror on their faces getting worse every second they kept going.

You knew the kind of comments you had on your profile. Hateful, hurtful comments. It had been that way since you made it into Formula 1.

“What a slut” “I bet there’s a reason why Charles hates her” “She never deserved that championship! #Retire” “Ugly bitch” “Whose dick she had to blow to get a seat?” “Overrated dumb whore” “I bet she tried to fuck her way through the grid, that’s why most of them hate her” “Max should’ve crashed into her harder”

It was nothing new to you, Kimi and your PR team had prepared you for years for this type of treatment. And you honestly had grown used to it, learning to ignore.

“This is disgusting, Y/N!” Charles exclaimed, trying to put the phone away, but Max snatched it back, still reading the comments.

“That’s just a regular Monday for me,” you shrugged, “I’m not trying to victimize myself or anything, but-”

“You are a victim, this is not okay!” Charles said.

“What I wanted to say is, I can’t risk us going public. This is what I face just for doing my job, and it would get so much worse if people ever found out. They already believe I fucked my way to the top, to them, we would just confirm their suspicions,” you felt Charles holding your hand for comfort, “it is very different for a woman. And I adore what we have, but I can't put you above my career and my dreams.”

Max extended his hand to you, and you grasped it, letting him pull you to sit between them. Charles kissed your cheek.

“We would never ask you to do such a thing,” Max said.

“I’m sorry we didn’t see what you are going through with the media and our fans.” Charles muttered, pulling your hair back with a hand, and holding your waist with the other.

“We missed you,” Max whispered against the other side of your neck.

In a couple of minutes they had you spread open on the sofa, Charles’ head between your legs and Max’s lips latched on to your nipples. They made sure to apologize orgasm after orgasm, cooing your moaning mess and kissing you stupid.

Routine went back to normal after that. You still didn’t name your affair and decided that for now, it was better this way.

With the upgraded car, you actually managed to pick up the pace and find yourself rising up the standings.

Silverstone was promising, being one of your favorite tracks, and one you knew you could win again this year. You did great both of the free practices, trying to keep your focus now more than ever, to get a chance at the championship again. There were specific races that you’d amp up your security team for safety, but Silverstone wasn’t one of them.

Qualifying day, you went to the track early morning, to meet with your team, talk about the results of free practices and your input. As you walked to your garage quietly chatting on the phone, you felt a hand on your arm, pulling you aside. You yelped, jerking around and you ended up facing the person. A man, and it took you a couple of seconds to recognize all the gray hair, but the evil eyes were still very much the same.

It had been more than a decade since you saw your father for the last time. Gasping, you took a step back to walk away, but he gripped your forearm, forcing you back.

Funny how fear worked, you hadn’t seen him for years, and you always imagined that now that you were all grown up, you’d be fearless, a big girl, brave and face your father head on. But it wasn’t how things happened. Immediately your fight or fight kicked in. Your eyes darted around, trying to catch someone you knew or someone from security.

“Let. Go.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Is that how you greet your father?” He said, and you pulled your hand from his grasp.

“I don’t have one,” you spat, anger rising in your chest, hand in hand with fear. You wanted to bolt, to ban him from your life forever, to cry and shout all at once.

“I made you. I spent thousands investing in your career so you could be here, a little gratitude would be good,” he said with a fake smile, and it disgusted you.

“I’ll never attribute my success to you, you disgusting piece of-”

He held your face with a hand, pressing your jaw with such force that it made you stumble a step back. You gripped his wrist, trying to pull away but he pressed your face harder, pressing your head against the wall.

“Very careful how you speak to me!” He rasped, gritted teeth and all, “you little shit, you think you are better than me? I turned you into who you are! The least you own me-”

“I owe you shit!” You said, and spat on his face.

“I gave money and a house to that whore you called a mother-”

You snapped, getting a hold of the fear, and you punched him in the face, hard enough for him to get away and you get space to run. You took one single step when you stumbled into someone, and your eyes found Max.

It was a brief second between looking at you, looking behind you and recognising your father. Recovering from your punch, your father tried to get to you again, but Max stood between the two of you, pushing your father’s chest so he stumbled back. Charles arrived soon after with security, as Max explained that this man was to be escorted out and never allowed to come back.

“Chéri, are you ok?” Charles asked, seeing you taking a step back and leaning against the wall.

You nodded, trying to talk but your voice caught on your throat, trying to make sense of what was happening. Your legs gave in and you slid down until you were sitting on the floor.

“Amour, talk to me, hey-” Charles was worried, you were pale and shaking. Max also knelt down beside you, holding your face to try and see if your father had hurt you.

“Get him out,” you said, and Max nodded, going to talk with security.

“Amour-”

“Guys, there’s cameras around the corner!” Lewis showed up out of nowhere.

“I’m fine,” you managed to blurt, holding on the wall to stand up.

“Hey, hey-” Charles tried to hold your arm but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, walking away back into the garage.

Your mind was spinning, all over the place, and through text you told Charles and Max that you were fine and wanted to be alone. The qualifying was a shitshow. Your mind was completely all over the place, and even making it to Q2, you couldn’t go farther than P14, it felt like the car wasn’t responding to your commands.

You came out of qualy completely pissed. At your father, for showing up and ruining your good streak of races. At yourself, for letting him get to your head, for still giving him so much power over you. You walked away without a second thought, went to your room and kicked your boots off.

Press talk was another shit. You couldn’t pay attention to most questions, gave monosyllabic answers, and couldn’t explain why your qualifying performance was so bad compared to the rest of the year.

You just apologized to your team during debriefing, and silently acquiesced to whatever the strategy for the race was. Kimi had texted you asking about what happened, you didn’t want to talk to him just yet.

You were getting ready to leave for the day, when Fernando came into your room.

“I don’t want to talk, Nando,” you held your bag, not even bothering to look at him.

“Good, because I do the talking then. Go, sit down.” He pretty much ordered, his face stony and serious in a way you hadn't seen before. “What happened today?”

“I’ve got a lot going on,” it was all you said.

“Your father showed up, messed with your head and with your confidence,” Fernando said, with the certainty of someone who knew you really well. You wondered if the whole grid knew about your father’s presence today. You gulped. “Look, this is something you will master with time, but I’m going to tell you now. When you put your helmet on and get in the car, you’re a racer, nothing more. Your problems, your worries, they stay back and they never cross your mind for the entirety of the race. Out on the track, you’re one with the car, doing your best is the only thing that matters.” Fernando pressed his index finger softly to your forehead, as if he was quite literally putting it in your head, “Clear. Your. Mind.”

You sniffled, wiping the one tear that came down. Fernando’s face softened, but you knew he wanted only the best for you. And he was right. You kept giving your father this power. You handed him the power. You couldn’t keep letting him get away with it. This was the one thing you knew you were good at, your calling, your destiny and all your hard work. And you’d be damned if your father would keep a hold over your life.

“Clear my mind,” you inhaled, nodding.

You did your best to study your strategy for the day, to focus on what you could do to achieve the best result.

Early the next morning, you went to the FIA, to request access to the camera footage to find images of the altercation between you and your father the day before. The representative you talked to was initially reluctant but once you told him what had happened, he was quick to help you. You explained that it was for the better that none of that came to light, and hopefully you could get your father to be completely banned from Formula One. The representative prepared a report and assured you that your complaint would be taken seriously and they’d work on the matter as fast and as discreetly as possible.

You went to meet your team and go over and over plan A, B and C. When you got in the car, ready to race, you still hadn’t talked with Max or Charles, and you were hopeful to catch them after. Attaching the helmet, you breathed in, slowly, remembering Fernando’s words.

Clear your mind.

You raced like there was no tomorrow, only thinking of the next turn and the next car you had to overtake, you didn’t think of who it was or when, you just did it. In the future, that race was going down in history as a masterclass in overtaking and taking every little opportunity thrown your way. The time passed really fast, and when you came to be, you heard Jace screaming in your ears that you had made it. You had made it to P1 and taken the checkered flag.

Your voice was shaky as you thanked the team and Jace on the radio.

When you left, running towards your team, they congratulated you and despite the great desire to run towards Max and Charles, who were on the podium with you, you somehow managed to find Fernando. You ran towards him, jumping in his arms, not even minding the way your helmets hit with a loud thud. He hugged you, removing your feet from the ground.

“Thank you! Gracias, muchas gracias, Fernando!” You shouted hoping he could hear you with both visors up.

He patted your shoulder as you had to run back to get weighted and to post-race interview.

“Wow, I’m at a loss for words right now! You were a true Lioness during this race! Can you tell us what happened after the difficult Qualy yesterday?” Jenson Button was the one to ask.

“I was in a difficult place yesterday, and I’m very thankful for a pep talk Fernando Alonso gave me, that helped me get back into my jam!” You said, breathless, wiping sweat from your forehead, “I’m also grateful to my team for making the car that matched my energy and focus today!”

“And what did Fernando tell you?” Jenson asked, probably out of curiosity.

“Well, I can’t go out telling my secrets, can I? My rivals are all around!” You winked, and left a laughing Jenson behind.

In the cooldown room, where Max and Charles were already watching a montage with all your overtakes on a screen, you walked up to Charles, taking his hand. He looked a little concerned as you had agreed to keep your relationship private. Max joined, patting a hand on your back, and the three of you made a little triangle.

You looked at them with so much adoration, that it hit Max right in the chest and he wanted nothing more than to hold your face and kiss you silly. Charles held his breath for a brief second, being in the moment with the two of you.

“You were brilliant, today,” Charles muttered, low and hoping no mic would catch the sound.

“Unbelievable, Lioness.” Max also said with a discreet wink, then taking a step back and interrupting the moment.

That wasn’t your first podium, nor your first win, but something was different when you kissed the trophy and raised it to the sky. You felt like you’d taken back control of your life and your career. There was nothing that could actually stop you if you put your mind to it, and you knew now. You shitty father couldn’t squander your dreams when you were fourteen, and he couldn’t do it now either. You were so much bigger than him, greater than that pathetic man could ever be.

And you didn’t need him.

You had a mother that, despite not being there anymore, but she’d always be in your heart, a constant source of strength and faith. You had Kimi, who believed you when no one else did, who put his own hand over fire for you. You had Fernando, Seb and Lewis, your idols in this sport, and such good friends. You had Charles and Max, your lovers, and hopefully your future.

That night, as you were laying down in your suite, sandwiched between the two men that stole your heart, came the email with your renewal contract proposition. A five year offer, possible extensions, to make you the face of your McLaren.

You made love with Charles and Max with renewed energy, enjoying yourself and the feel of their love for you. It was just the assurance you needed to say the words.

“I love you. I love you two very much,” you whispered, running your hand through both their hairs, “I can’t promise much right at this moment, like a normal, public, relationship yet, but I do love you.”

“We know. We love you too.” Max whispered and Charles took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“We love you too much to risk you facing awful dangerous things just so we could call you ours publicly,” Charles agreed.

That year, you didn’t get a second championship as you had dreamed, but you proudly stood with your P2 trophy during the FIA’s Prize Giving Ceremony, your chest swelling with pride as you watched Charles’ beaming face with the P1 trophy.

There was some renewed sense of purpose in yourself as you held the trophy, and in your heart, this one meant just as much as the champion trophy you had gotten the year before. This year you had overcome all the demons that had controlled you for a long time, this year you had not only learned to live with the undying love for your mom, but you had also learned about new forms of love. You had somehow rekindled that love for racing, for believing you were the best and could prove it amidst adversity.

And of course, many adversities were still to come, but now you were sure you had in yourself the power to face them.

When the next season started, you had your eyes on the prize.

Even spending a great amount of winter break with your boyfriends, they were still your rivals on track.

You were fixing your suit on the pitlane when they walked up to you.

“I hope you know this championship is mine,” Max said with a smirk. You caught his playful tone fairly quickly.

“Well, I am the current champion of the world, so we’ll see about that,” Charles crossed his arms.

“Boys, no crying when I leave the both of you eating dust, yeah?” You added, biting back a giggle.

“Baby, go easy on us,” Max joked, and you shook your head.

“Never going easy on my rivals,” You added with a whisper, “not even when they’re my handsome boyfriends.”

“See you after the finish line,” Charles winked, and they both walked away.

“Hope you enjoy the view of my rear!” You said, and they left, laughing.

Always rivals, but much more than that.

NOTE: If you want to know why I chose to end the story this way, or have any questions about the characters future, or any random headcanons, drop by my inbox and I'll try to answer most! Thank you so much for the support in this little adventure! Thank you to everyone who dropped a little ask/message asking for more, I'll try and answer you if I haven't yet! (also, sorry if i missed any tag)

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deepdisireslonging · 5 months

Text

Cake or Cookies

A good round of sexy texting during girls’ night leads to sexy personal time when Bucky gets home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Reader

Warnings/Promises: food mention, descriptions of injuries (canon-level), dirty talk, sexting, SMUT, oral (both receiving), implied further smut

Word Count: 3080

Note: They can pry the Avenger Apartment/Tower from my cold dead hands. Everything’s fine, everyone is fine; what trauma? Why can’t we have nice things? I went hunting through some of my lost prompts and found a couple to squeeze together. Happy reading!

Girls’ night in the Tower was bound to be dangerous. It was usually when Natasha came up with the next round of pranks to play on the boys. And when Wanda took it upon herself to create the best pillow fort to watch movies in. Her magic made it easy to pile the couch pillows and blankets into what looked more like a cozy cave than a fort. And Maria kept track of where to find any films not already stored in Stark’s library.

You were in charge of snacks. Drinks were cozy only: tea, hot chocolate, and coffee. Alcohol parties were for other nights. Snacks ranged anywhere from home-made chips to hors d'oeuvres (fancy and simply indulgent), to the smorgasbord of mass produced favorite snacks you raided from the corner bodega. But you were stumped when it came to tonight’s desserts. The bodega’s sweet treats were present, cheap candy and the like, but you were stuck between the roll of cookie dough and a box mix for cupcakes.

Stumped, you didn’t acknowledge the warm body that ghosted up behind you until a hand slid across your waist. “It’s girls’ night. What are you still doing here?” Sitting down the treats, you turned in Bucky’s arms and scratched your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lightly kissed your forehead. “Needed a break from Tony. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

You both inhaled deeply, cheek to cheek. The last mission had been a rough one. Most of the team had come back banged up. And you still had a nasty scrape of road burn up one leg. Which is why you were wearing the equivalent of biker shorts. Pepper had gotten them for you sometime after the social media trend of those leggings ladies liked to tease their S.O’s with. They were surprisingly supportive of your form. You usually wore them underneath your gear because they were borderline indecent. But, with one of Bucky’s oversized shirts covering your figure, nobody had commented.

Except for Bucky as he slid his hands down your body to rest over the curve of your ass.

“I thought these stayed out of sight?”

You teased a glance up at him. “Usually, yes. But It’s girls’ night. We all wear the equivalent of our pajamas since you boys will be out. You are all going out, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Eventually.” But he didn’t move. He hugged you closer, brazenly tilting your head to one side with his nose so he could kiss the underside of your jaw.

“Y/L/N!” Natasha waved from the living room. “Are we ready to go, or what?”

A smile spread across your face. You lightly pushed Bucky away, making him whine. Natasha was already starting the voting poll for the evening’s movies when you turned back to the counter. “I’ve got to bake before the party starts. Do you have a preference for what sweets you’d like to be left over? Cookies or cupcakes?”

Bucky pressed up behind you, resting his large hands on the counter on either side of you, and griding his front into your ass. “Cookies. There’s enough cake in this kitchen already.” He slapped your ass, following with both his hands taking tight squeezes of your flesh.

As you gasped, he rushed out. The wink he shot you from the door warned you that the tease would not be the evening’s last.

Fifteen minutes later, the cookies were out, the movie was in, and everyone was settled into their favorite pile of pillows.

Five minutes into the movie, the texting started.

Lover Boy <3: “How’s the movie?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your phone on silent. If Okoye heard your phone again, you’d never get it back. “We’re watching Magic Mike. So… It’s going well.” You added a smiley face with its tongue sticking out for good measure.

Bucky’s messages popped up every few minutes. You kept your phone screen towards you to see the notification light up your screen without bothering the other women.

Lover Boy <3: “Should I be jealous?”

You: “Nah. Their gyrating doesn’t do it for me.”

Lover Boy <3: “Good to know.”

Lover Boy <3: “Is there anything in the movie that does ‘do’ it for you?”

You smothered a chuckle into your blanket. Each passing second that you took to come up with a teasing reply was surly wreaking havoc on your man.

You: “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

His reply was slow in coming. When it did, you almost fumbled your phone into the floor.

Lover Boy <3: *image incoming*

The picture you received was of Bucky’s hand resting on the top of his thigh. They were out to dinner somewhere, the edge of the table blocking your photo view from the rest of the guys. In the curve between his forefinger and thumb, his bulge was the center of attention. You stuck a sucker in your mouth to cover up your gasp. But the other ladies were too busy hooting for the first dance scene to notice.

You: “Just him? I must be slipping. Especially since I thought you really liked my shorts earlier.”

Lover Boy <3: “I like those shorts because I like taking them off. Girls night got in the way.”

You: “You’ve got to come home sometime.”

Lover Boy <3: “Then what do you have in mind?”

You turned off the flash for your camera and waited for the TV screen to illuminate your face. Sucker holding down your tongue, you sneaked the pic. Before any of the girls could see and tease you. While it sent, you sucked on the round sugar treat. You imagined Bucky’s cockhead on your tongue, as you knew he would too. His reply came in seconds.

Lover Boy <3: “Minx”

You: “And?”

Lover Boy <3: “When I do get home, I’m going to taste something sweeter. All night long.”

Lover Boy <3: “If you can handle it.”

Biting your lip, you smiled into your blanket.

You: “We both know what I can handle. But can you handle what I want to do to you?”

You: “Bet I can blow you so good you forget how to speak Russian before morning.”

You: “Actually, bet I can make you forget all your languages.”

Lover Boy <3: “An official bet?”

Now it was dangerous territory. Neither of you would wager anything that would show in public. Or bring attention from the team inside the tower. But Bucky’s winnings had a steep cost on your ability to walk the next day. Yours usually meant him taking a few days off to spend time together in some distant cabin.

You: “Do we have time to disappear to the Rockies when I win?”

Lover Boy <3: “We just finished a mission. I’m sure I can convince Steve to leave us alone… at least for several nights in a row when I win.”

It was on.

He played dirty by escaping to the bathroom to shoot you a picture of his cock. It was already thick for you, proud and flushed in his palm.

You also escaped. But the picture you sent didn’t require you to take your clothes off. All you did was tug down the front of his borrowed shirt, and splay your fingers wide between your breasts.

You: “Can’t wait to squeeze you between these.”

Lover Boy <3: “9hey now…”

Good. His texting was already stumbling.

You: *picture incoming*

All you did was rest your hand over your throat. But Bucky’s reply of a bunch of scrambled letters made you laugh. You returned to the movie.

You: “Can’t wait for you to get home. But we’ve got about 3 more hours of movies to watch. Think you can last that long?”

Lover Boy <3: “If I have to. Might have to take care of myself before then.”

Wanda looked over as you squirmed in your seat.

You: “You can’t wait for me? I’ll wait for you.”

When the movie lit up enough, you took a picture of the pillow between your thighs.

Lover Boy <3: “Promise?”

You: “Say please.”

His reply, despite the distance between text and actually hearing his voice, dripped with promise. You bit your lip, hearing his growl in your head.

Lover Boy <3: “Since when do get to make the demands around here?”

Lover Boy <3: “Please.”

You: “Since I’m home. Away from the consequences of mouthing off at you till later.”

Lover Boy <3: “You’re not sharing this conversation with the ladies are you? You’re not usually this… sassy.”

You: “This sass is rated E for everyone. But, no. This conversation is just between us.”

You: “I have to stop texting. Natasha is beginning to notice.”

Lover Boy <3: “Until I get my hands on you:”

It was several minutes until you checked your phone, waiting for the others to drop their questioning looks. When you did, you had to smother your moan. He sent one last picture of his tongue out between his fingers. A promise of delectable problems to come.

***

Somebody texted the guys when the movies were almost over. They arrived halfway through you girls cleaning up.

“How was the double feature?” Tony asked. He snagged a remaining hors d'oeuvres off the tray before Maria could stick it in the fridge.

You didn’t hear the reply. All you could focus on was how lust-blown Bucky’s eyes were as he stared you down from the other side of the room. You pressed your thighs together. If the way your chest heaved was any indication, you were in for a long night. Steve barely gave you a glance when you walked past him. Bucky gliding past made him give your departure a second look.

The hallway to your room was dark. The lights that illuminated the floor wouldn’t engage fully unless there was an emergency. Which meant that your shadow was faded against the wall. And it was fractured into several clusters of shadows at reach installation. You didn’t look back. It was part of the game. You couldn’t hear him, but sometimes you could have sworn your shadows had an extra layer.

When you reached for your door handle, another hand beat you to it. Bucky pressed up behind you, pushing you into the room and pinning you to the inside of the door as he locked it. He slid his knee between your legs. Fascinated, he enjoyed the show as you slid the apex of your thighs across the muscle he gave you. He stopped your movements with a hand on your hip, while the other lifted your wrists above your head.

“Did you actually wait, or was that a tease?” He reached into your shorts, groaning to find your slick there. While you trembled, he loudly sucked his middle finger into his mouth. “Oh, ангел, I am going to ruin you. For teasing me like you did.”

“You – you started it. Technically.”

He brought one of your hands down to rest over the front of his pants. “Maybe. But you laid down the gauntlet. How do you want to do this?”

With a grin, you wriggled out of his grasp. You walked backwards towards your bed. Bucky stalked slowly after you. Turning, you ran your hands down your sides, to your hips. And back to the curve of your ass. “Cake?” You smoothed your hands up from your rear to your breasts. “Or cookies?”

Bucky groaned. “The whole damn bakery if I can get my hands on it.” He guided you onto the bed, crawling over you in a way that stole your breath. When you tried to roll him onto his back to begin the challenge, he chuckled. “Nuh-uh. Challenger goes second.”

“But-“

He silenced you with a kiss. As he deepened it, hands kneading into your flesh and removing your clothes, your rebuttal died on your tongue. He barely pulled back enough to remove his own clothes. It wasn’t long before he was working his mouth down your body, kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin until he made it to your sex.

Sometimes part of the challenge included a timer. Like that one gala when he dared you steal away with him during Tony’s speech, and cum before the ending round of applause. With his head buried under your dress, he won with enough time to participate in the applause for a speech you didn’t give a damn about. You didn’t find out till later that Steve had kept track of when you two disappeared and reappeared. Bucky wrote the time on your bathroom mirror as the time to beat. It had yet to be broken.

Tonight wasn’t one of those times. There was all the time in the world. All night to edge or overstimulate each other to your hearts’ content.

Breathing warm air over your sex, his grin between your thighs sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. You weren’t sure which was more disarming: his knowledge of your body and its sweet spots that he could make you cum in minutes, or that same knowledge used to bliss you out over hours till you couldn’t remember more than screaming his name. With his tongue, he began the challenge. As if you weren’t soaked already, he made a mess of you. Curling his fingers through your folds. Delving his tongue deep in search of the ability to taste you for days. When he scraped his teeth across your clit, the electricity tightened your fingers in his hair.

He wasn’t drawing this out. A man on a mission, Bucky was doing everything he could to bring you to the brink as fast as he could. The speed that you hurtled toward release stole your breath. That was his plan. Shock you while trying to beat his time so that you wouldn’t be able to speak. And then he’d win double the bragging rights.

And, damn him, it might just work.

Hungrily, he slurped up your pleasure. Adding a third finger to his onslaught, he curled them all to make you see stars. His metal arm flashed out to pin down your hips before you could arch away from him. The metal was cold, frigid, against your flushed skin. The difference in temperature was enough of an overload to your sparkling nerves that your eyes screwed shut. You babbled a series of sounds, making Bucky hum in delight.

But when he came up for air, gently stroking your folds to ease you down, you surprised him.

“Is that all you got, Barnes?”

“Fuck. Seriously?” He rested his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

You did your best to steady your breath. No point in revealing those six words were all you could manage. After another moment, you curled your own finger. You summoned him to hover over you, dangling his dog-tags in your face. Catching one between your teeth, you gripped and pushed his shoulders until he was on his back.

It was your turn to kiss down his body. Across his collar bone and pecs. Down that center chasm between his abs. From one hip bone, down his V, and up to the other side. As you took his length in hand, you had to smile. The poor man should have let you pleasure him first, instead of torturing himself and his cock with waiting. Gently, you circled your thumb around his tip. It dragged a groan out between his teeth. Good. The more vocal he was, the better you could track his ability to speak. Or lack thereof.

You set the challenge into the back of your mind and got to work in pleasing your man.

The first movements were gentle. And careful around how sensitive he was. Still, each touch and twist kept his voice active. He tried to watch you, but kept dropping his head back in pleasure as you quickened your movements. While he was laid back, you shifted your position.

His head snapped up, and he cursed loudly in Russian as his cock was enveloped between your breasts.

Darting out your tongue, you kitten licked the tip of his cock when it came into range. It gave you no small pleasure to watch your man, the Winter Soldier and former Commando, fall to pieces because of you. He cursed louder in English, Russian, and… was that German? But the more you jerked him between your breasts, the more his vocabulary scrambled together. You waited patiently. His metal hand twitched towards to before fisting the sheet. His flesh hand reached back for the pillows, sheets, headboard. Anything to ground himself. Then you struck. You let go of your breasts and dipped low enough to swallow him down. He roared as he bumped the back of your throat. Planting his feet on the bed, his thighs trembled with keeping himself from thrusting into your mouth.

That was fine. You moved enough for the both of you. And, just as his Russian was little more than the most strained of curses, you settled his balls into one hand, and slid the other up his torso. Your nails lightly caught his skin over his heaving breaths.

The high-pitched hiss from the depths of his lungs was your only warning before he filled your mouth.

Your ministrations slowed. You took every ounce of his pleasure, and smiled around his cock as you sucked your way off his length.

He dragged you up to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His lips trembled while trying to say something. Anything. But all he could do was pant into your skin.

You smiled. And kissed the underside of his jaw. While you both recovered, you murmured gentle reassurances between breaths.

“You cheated,” he finally managed.

“Oh? When did I manage that?”

Running his fingers through his hair, he stared you down. “Those damn shorts.”

With a laugh, you nipped at his chest. “What? You did get to take them off, like you wanted. And I can’t help it if you decided to run your hands all over me and get yourself hard. It jazzed me up too. So, in my mind, we’re even.”

“Fine.” He tilted up your face to kiss you. Mumbling against your lips, he complained, “you’re using alotta words there, ангел.”

“And you’re still capable of Russian.”

Bucky grinned. “Then I guess this challenge isn’t done.”

And it wasn’t until long into the night.

***

Ангел: angel

***

Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #curvy!reader #bucky barnes smut #avengers smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes fluff #reader insert #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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konigbabe · 2 years

Text

feast of pleasure

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x König x Keegan P. Russ x fem!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: smut; p-in-v sex; anal sex; unprotected sex; foursome - f/m/m/m; fingering; oral - f & m; strong language; dirty talk; gendered reader; gendered terminology

Summary: A simple game; a friendly atmosphere; until one of the masked men asked, "would you rather kiss him or me?"; now spread wide for all three of them, nothing to hide as you submitted to the pleasure they were willing to give.

A/N: Shoutout to @ave661 for making this art. Divider by @firefly-graphics [source]

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

Your body was an invitation, a tantalizing feast of pleasure, just waiting to be savored; skin like silk, invitingly soft, begging to be touched. Caressed. Worshipped. You were theirs to explore and enjoy; to be taken and owned, an object of their pleasure and desires.

Ghost's lips brushed your neck, bruised from Keegan’s possessive assault as he marked you everywhere he could reach, the imprints of his teeth slightly visible. An almost animalistic grunt left his clenched teeth as he took notice.

No one actually knew how you ended up in such a situation. At first, such an idea would go completely over your head, laughing it off; which you did in the beginning, just a silly fantasy, something out of reach for you. The enigma of the masks, the unyielding thoughts swirling inside your brain as you watched them in action, bodies working on autopilot. Movements swift and merciless.

Desperately trying to hold onto your sanity, brain slowly turning to mush as you ground into Keegan’s hips, feeling his hardness over your clothed core. A satisfied grunt left his kiss-bruised lips; hands caressing the exposed flesh of your thighs, fingers dancing deliberately over the hem of your underwear as he watched. Eyes fixated on your face, looking as your lips wrapped around the spongy head of König’s cock, sucking the tip in with hollowed cheeks. Hand wrapped around his girth, pumping the remaining length while the other hand worked on Simon, who was standing opposite König, head thrown back, eyes closed in a blissful pleasure as your fingers danced along his cock. Thumb swiping over the head occasionally, spreading more precum over his foreskin.

Keegan’s tongue was leaving wet patches on your neck, blowing a cold breeze on the heating skin as his hands led you through the motions, his fingers on the small of your back prompting you to grind on him harder.

"Dammit, kitten," his voice was rough around the edges, just like him, "can feel you soaking me."

No one questioned the situation no more; the last one to give in was König, uncertain of the idea the longest.

It all began innocently enough, with every one of you gathered to enjoy a celebratory drink after a successful raid. To liven up the night, someone suggested playing a game of "Would You Rather?". After a few rounds of drinks, the sensation of the alcohol coursing through your veins was palpable; it was Keegan who shifted the atmosphere, going from a simple question to "Would you rather kiss me or Ghost?".

The air became still, tense as you stared at him; the dark pupils spreading over the blue ocean of his eyes, darkening them. König shifted in his seat, gaze watching the amber-colored drink swirl in his glass. Both ghosts, however, stared at you in unison; Keegan curious, Simon daring.

A giggle of nervousness escaped your lips; deep breath in, you felt suffocated for a moment, eyes fixated on the man in front of you; König's eyes glancing towards you, his countenance bowed, creasing his brow in a myriad of wrinkles, his face unreadable.

"All."

Keegan grinned at you, mischief glinting in his eyes as he shot a look at Simon and then König. A silent agreement was made at that moment; something new was about to arise. That was when you found out that your dream, the fantasy, was nowhere near reality. Their kisses; the way they worshipped you; it was all so different, it made your head spiral.

Keegan kissed like a man starved; lips branding yours with passionate fervor, tongue swirling with skillful expertise, exploring the depths of your mouth with each teasing stroke. Hands grasping your throat, the guttural groans shooting straight to your core, heart racing. His presence intoxicating, tongue driving you into complete submission. Hands angling your face to his own desire, thumb caressing the front of your throat; the gentle touch absolute contrast to the rough bites bruising your lips. His touch was raw. Primal. Promising. Keegan shifted you into a pliant state, his touch commanding, handling you in any way he desired, assuring you that in his hands, all your worries would melt away.

Ghost, Simon was a guide; hands grasping your thighs, hips, caressing your curves as his lips moved along yours. Sucking your tongue, a promise of what was about to happen if you let him in; tongue dancing along your lower lip, bruised and abused after Keegan’s hungry assault. Simon soothed the pain, becoming a beacon of comfort and security. A watcher. Observer. He was in control, his moves calculated and sure, yet utterly passionate.

König; sweet and caring. A benign touch of aftercare after the ghosts had their turns. His size betrayed him; a gentle giant. His lips were soft and tasted like honey. Hands caressing your face, thumb swiping over your heated cheeks as his tongue tangled with yours in a passionate dance of devotion. Hesitant to give in at first, even with your eyes begging and Keegan’s encouraging words; "C’mon mate, nothing to be shy about, we’re all friends here, right?" and Simon’s affirmative nod as his hand stayed on your leg, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh.

The ghosts watched in inquisitiveness, wondering if the silent observer would become a willing participant in their little game. Looking into König’s eyes, a wave of sympathy swept over you. Features relaxing as you reached across the small table, hips digging into the edge, you had to almost bend over it to reach his face. Simon’s hand moved to the back of your thigh, his touch never leaving as your eyes scanned König’s face, noticing the pinkish tint on his cheeks, the alcohol rushing through his veins.

"It’s just us," you whispered, feeling his breath fan over your wet lips, "nothing to be ashamed of."

His touch was electrifying, hand bringing your face into his by the back of your neck, fingers digging into your scalp as König enveloped you in his presence. A moan escaped your occupied lips as Simon’s fingertips brushed over the apex of your thighs before dancing over your clothed center; hips bucking into his hand involuntarily.

"You want us, pet?" he asked, tone lazy. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt König’s hands on your face, lips smashed against yours.

A hum of appreciation rumbled deep inside your throat. A hot jolt of energy spread inside your tummy as a hand stroked the exposed skin of the small of your back. Lips brushed against your ear before someone swiped their tongue on the skin behind it; Keegan’s words echoed in your head like a soft lullaby, sending you into a state of pure bliss, "we need words, kitten."

Your heart fluttered, air leaving your lungs as you exhaled in contentment, breaking from König’s kiss. Gazing deeply into Keegan's eyes, you could feel the desire radiating from his soul; his eyes were like a spell, holding you in place and igniting a flame of longing in your core.

"I want you all, all at once, Keegan," you murmured. König’s hand tightened in your hair, the pull straining your scalp as a strong urge to move closer to Keegan overtook your body; drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Then get on that table," it felt like it was just the two of you for a moment; your surroundings faded away as König's hand caressed your hair and Simon's fingertips caressed the apex of your thighs.

Eyes never leaving Keegan’s, body on autopilot, you followed his order. The coolness of the wood against the heated skin of your back, shirt discarded in the process. Simon stood up, gripping your ankle firmly while all three of them looked at your exposed body, eyes traveling over the soft curves, searing you in your place. The chill air gradually grew hotter, completely engulfing your skin in its warmth.

Legs spread on each side of Simon, he took off your shoes and socks, fingertips circling around your ankles as you looked up at König, who was now standing to his full height. Extending one arm toward him, a soft "come here" left your lips in a murmur, a grin on your swollen lips. He stayed still for a moment, the image of you, spread wide on the table, engraving in his memory to be remembered in the future.

Eventually, he crouched down; hand on the table as his lips connected with yours once again, a satisfied whimper sounded from your lips.

Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, quickly igniting a wildfire of desire within you. You heard Keegan talk, sweet words of admiration, but it was Simon's low and rasped tone that lingered in your ears after he had spoken; too indulged in the depths of satisfaction König’s lips had brought you, you didn't care enough to listen. Completely lost in the bliss, your mind on cloud nine, the intensity of the sensations coursing through you increasing with every touch, every caress, every whisper.

A hand sneaked on your hip, giving it a squeeze; an order your body understood. Arching your back off the table, someone’s fingertips traced the clasp of your bra before getting rid of it. One swift movement; practiced, skilled. A mouth on the soft tissue of your breast, another hand kneading the other one, wet lips enveloping your nipple, a tongue swiping over the pulsing bundle of nerves, thumb circling the other one.

Moaning into König’s mouth, his tongue swiped over yours, the rich taste of alcohol mingling with the sweet taste of your saliva. Breaths ragged. Another pair of hands undid your belt, sending a thrill down your spine. Simon’s voice felt distant, yet his breath fanned over your belly button as he spoke in a sultry tone, "lift your hips for me, pet."

You complied, of course. Nothing but respect for your lieutenant. One powerful tug and your legs were freed from the restraints of your pants. Kisses lingered on your calves, the men absolutely stunned by the beauty beneath them. Simon’s tongue swiped over your skin, teeth sinking into your legs; aggressive, primal, possessive. The after kisses gentle, soothing the pain away as you writhed underneath them.

It was Keegan who pulled away first, admiring the irritated flesh of your breasts before his palm laid flat against your soaked center, a guttural grunt accompanied by his lips on your ribs vibrating through your entire being. Hips grounding into his hand, he added pressure onto your aching nub.

The few words exchanged between the men were almost drowned out by your own heavy breathing as you shamelessly moved your hips, chasing the sensation of pressure that lingered between your legs. König's lips were still locked with yours, his hands nowhere to be found as you both embraced in a passionate kiss.

The air was saturated with the musky smell of arousal and sexuality, sending a shiver of delight through your body. As your mouths parted, you could see König's hand wrapped firmly around himself, feeling all the air punched out of your lungs.

Keegan’s touch was electric. You wanted more; a craving that only intensified as you continued to grind against his palm, pushing against his body as your eagerness grew with every second.

That was when you noticed; Simon disappeared. The ghost nowhere to be found, your eyes scanned the empty room before meeting with Keegan.

"Looking for lube," he explained, a sly smile on his face as he sneaked one hand behind your neck, fingers digging into your scalp, "we’re gonna need it."

"Okay," you swallowed, a knot tightening inside your throat as you realized; this was really happening. König’s grunts clouded your mind, Keegan’s eyes staring into your soul.

Bracing yourself on your hands, your lips chased Keegan’s, legs swung to close him in. Reaching your hand to your side, your fingertips traced König’s arm, feeling the hard muscle flexing as he palmed himself in a slow, almost punishing rate.

Keegan explored your body, lips an inch from yours but never touching. Teasing. As you moved forward, he pulled back, stopping all movement. A game of cat and mouse.

"Keegan," you mumbled, lips brushing his. From the side of your view, you saw König; standing tall, cock hard and glistening with precum. Swirling your tongue over Keegan’s lips, his eyes dark and smoldering with passion, the silvery blue of them completely overtaken by the deep, unbridled desire that was radiating from him. A playful sparkle shone in his eyes, though, teasing and inviting you to explore the depths of his craving. His lips were soft and inviting, urging you to continue to tantalize his senses with your passionate embrace.

A cunning grin formed on your face, biting your lips, you wrapped your ankles around his shoulders, his hands closing over your thighs. Reaching to your side, your hand enveloped König, stopping his movement as you licked your lips.

Feeling Keegan's stare, quickly looking up at König, you noticed the passionate craving in his eyes.

A kiss on his head, the sweetness of the precum coating your lips; salty, briny, brackish. A moan left you as your lips wrapped around the tip.

The moment didn’t last long; Keegan’s hands gripped your hips, tugging you forward until the edge of the table scraped your naked back as you slid off. Releasing König’s cock with a whimper, you landed on Keegan’s lap. He was already hard, a groan escaping his parted lips as you ground into him.

"Where the fuck is Simon," you mumbled, hand wrapping around König’s cock as Keegan’s lips searched yours, mingling the taste of you and König with his own. His kiss made your skin burn and your heart race as you felt a wave of desire wash over you; you wanted them all and you wanted them now.

As if being summoned, Simon’s dark and looming figure appeared by your side, handing Keegan a bottle of petroleum jelly.

Your eyes locked with his, heart fluttering as a smudge of darkness framed the mesmerizing, teal blue of his eyes. Simon’s gaze was intense yet reassuring, and you felt a deep, primal need course through you.

Fingers locking on his belt, you tugged; the signal not going unnoticed. Hips circling on top of Keegan, his hands caressed your thighs as you waited; waited for Simon to finally free himself, cock hardening as your fingers wrapped around his girth.

He couldn’t compare to König in length; but who could? Simon was more on the thicker side, your fingers too short to wrap fully around him.

Keegan's lips pressed hungrily against the front of your throat, a breathy moan escaping from your kiss-swollen lips as your hands worked on the men next to you.

Turning to König, you took him in your mouth while swiping your thumb over Simon’s tip, the droplet of precum not enough to lubricate; so you switched, the rich taste of König soon mixing with Simon’s as you sucked his tip in, tongue flat against his underside.

König’s broken English mixed with German as you pumped him, slow and tantalizing, prolonging the pleasure.

"Bloody hell, pet," Simon exhaled, hand on top of your head as he guided your face on his cock. Taking as much as you could, you felt the spongy head hit the back of your throat, closing in on him; feeling him shudder shot fire to your cunt, pulsating for attention as you felt the sense of power over the man, known for his scary, distant demeanor; now completely under the spell of your mouth, the most vulnerable he might ever be.

Mouth back to König, you took as much in as your mouth allowed; which wasn’t a lot but enough to satisfy. Grinding your hips into Keegan, his teeth sank into the skin on top of your breast as his hand laid flat on your tummy before creeping downwards in an entrancing manner.

Hand sneaking inside your underwear, a moan vibrated in your throat, stuffed full of König as Keegan’s finger collected your wetness, spreading it over your aching clit.

"Damn, kitten," he mumbled, sucking on your nipple in the process, "you’re already soaking and we haven’t even started yet."

A delightful feeling spread in your abdomen as Keegan’s fingers spread your lips, teasing your entrance.

Pulling back, you shot him a pleading look, "please."

"What?" he raised his eyebrows, that same sparkle in his eyes as before, "you want my fingers?"

You nodded. Mind hazy. Completely wiped off of any rational thinking as all you could feel were the hands on you, Simon’s grip in your hair slowly guiding you back to him.

Moans of pleasure mixed with grunts of delight, everything felt like a wildfire as Keegan’s fingers explored every inch of your innermost depths, his nails delicately scraping against your quivering walls, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body like a wave of molten honey.

Your heart raced as Keegan's touch became increasingly more passionate, the sensation of his fingertips teasing and tantalizing you to unimaginable heights of pleasure.

"Fuck yourself, kitten," Keegan’s voice was rough, teeth scraping along your shoulder as he stilled all the movement. Legs bracing on either side of him, you lift yourself up until only the fingertips remained inside; slowly descending back down.

Simon’s grunts turned into groans, a moan escaping his lips once in a while; the sound making you go absolutely feral.

"Fuck, guys," Keegan chuckles as he watched you fuck yourself with his fingers, "she’s dripping, might not even need that lube."

Heat spread in your face as you listened to Simon’s rugged sounds, his head pulsating inside your throat as his fingers tighten in your hair.

"I’m gonna cum," he thrust forward; a gentle, calculated move, "gonna fill that mouth of yours."

Clenching around Keegan’s fingers, curses left his mouth; thumb on your clit, hand on your thigh, an encouraging squeeze here and there.

And then, for the first time, you felt the electrifying sensation of witnessing Simon, the mysterious and alluring Ghost, unraveling in pleasure; his brows intensely furrowed, a delicate layer of sweat glistening on his temples, his lips parted in a blissful moan as he spilled deep inside your mouth, coating your tongue in his bitter release.

Pulling away, you swiped your tongue over his slit, collecting the remains of his cum on the tip of your tongue. Drowning in your own pleasure, swallowing what Simon gave you, you looked at Keegan; eyes wide, hungry as he met your thrusts, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers. Gasping, nearing your own climax, he added another finger, curling them inside to find that sweet spot; to get you to scream for him.

Tightening your grip around König, increasing the speed of your hand, a strangled moan escaped your open, bruised lips. The heat inside your tummy overwhelming as you felt the sensation of pleasure grow. Keegan’s thumb on your clit moved faster, lips circling your nipple as you moaned, the wetness between your legs a delicious sensation.

Hips bucking; Keegan’s fingers continued pumping through your climax, sending surging sensations of pleasure that seemed to last forever.

"Get her on the table," Simon ordered. Withdrawing his fingers from you, Keegan’s arms wrapped around your back; you could feel the wetness on his fingers coat your side as he lifted you up.

Legs tangling in the air, bathing in the blissful ecstasy, he laid you back on the table, discarding the last vestiges of clothing. Your body exposed, vulnerable to his touch, you felt a rush of arousal as he trailed his fingertips over your curves, exploring every inch of you with an intensity that left you breathless.

Looking at König, you whispered a desperate, breathy plea, "Please, König, I need you to fuck me."

You could swear that you saw his cock twitch at your words. His face flushed with desire; he nodded.

"She’ll need more prep for you, my man," Keegan said to König as you reached for the giant, seeing Simon in the corner of your eyes; standing near, arms crossed over his naked chest. He was watching the scene before him; observing. His eyes a calming haven to the storm happening. A guardian; you’d say.

"Condoms?" Keegan took you from your trance, hand palming his own cock as he waited for your answer; shaking your head, whispering a simple "implant", he nodded. Hands running down your hips, he turned you around, tugging you backward until your ass hang in the air.

Face forward, you latched your mouth back on König. Keegan's hand glided along the contours of your back, sliding over the flesh of your asscheeks.

Spreading you apart for him, the hot breath of his desire fanned over your dripping center as he flicked his tongue inside you, the sensation causing you to arch your back and cry out in pleasure, a hum vibrating in his throat.

"Tastes like goddamn heaven," he kissed your opening, standing up. Guiding the tip of his hard, velvety cock to your trembling entrance, tasting your sweet release, he eased into you, filling you with aching pleasure. Inch by inch, he split you apart and built you back together, stoking the flames of desire within you.

His hands moved with a delicate touch all over your body, making their way to your hips, grasping them tightly as he pushed himself further into you. You felt an overwhelming pleasure as your body was slowly filled with his raging desire. His hips pushed against yours as he went deeper, allowing your gummy walls to wrap around him as he moved.

The moment he was fully seated inside, he stilled; relishing in the feeling of being absolutely full, you took as much of König as you possibly could inside your mouth, tasting the sweet, salty skin. His body gently rocked against your face, each thrust sending a thrill of arousal to where Keegan was seated.

Keegan’s thrusts were deliberate and provoking, each one sending an explosive wave of pleasure that made your body quiver with delight; hands moved along your curves, igniting an inferno of passion that threatened to consume you.

König’s groans grew louder as you hollowed your cheeks, tongue laying flat over his slit for a moment.

The room was soon filled with the sound of your moans and your wetness as Keegan rolled his hips against your ass, filling you up with every inch of his cock. Every time he pulled away, your body yearned for him, your muscles contracting around him.

"Gonna fuck that ass of yours, kitten," Keegan groaned between the tantalizing thrusts, "s’that okay?"

Moaning around König’s cock, you already knew the drill. Letting him slip from your warm mouth, you allowed Keegan to do what he wanted with your body.

Pulling away completely, he swiped his fingers over your mixed juices before plunging back inside; spreading your own juices over the tight ring of muscles, he eased the tip of his finger in.

"Fuckin’ hell," a deep, filthy grunt escaped Keegan’s lips as he watched you eagerly suck it in.

Simon’s eyes burned holes into Keegan as he observed his preparations. All while watching your mouth getting stuffed, silently admiring König for his stamina, being able to hold on for that long, knowing well how good your mouth feels, what that sharp tongue of yours can do.

Keegan worked on you, relaxing the muscles enough to allow him to get his whole finger in, coated in your juices, having to mix it with the jelly Simon brought earlier to make it as comfortable as he could for you; two fingers, scissoring you open for his cock to sank in. Soon.

Simon walked over to the table you were displayed on, rough hand running along the curve of your spine as you felt Keegan’s tip probe your ass.

"Ready?" he asked. König stepped back for a moment, letting you take a deep breath as Simon’s hand sneaked in your hair, tucking a few stray, sweat-drenched strands behind your ear as you let yourself be drowned in his eyes.

König’s reassuring words filled your ears, Simon’s stare holding you hostage as you gasped, feeling a sting of pain shoot up your body, chest pushing into the table as your legs involuntary flexed, feet pushing upwards to stand on tiptoes as if your body was trying to run away.

"Careful there, man," Simon said, your eyes squeezed shut, lip sucked in.

"S’alright," you reassured the men around you. Keegan paused for a slight moment, hand sneaking around you to rest on your clit, fingers toying with the pulsating numb of nerves as he sunk the tip in, feeling the delightful squeeze of your insides.

A moan escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as Keegan split you open. His grunts reverberated through you, powerful, rasping growls that sent a wave of desire spiraling through your body until you were burning up with need. His groans seemed to penetrate your core, setting it alight until you were trembling with pleasure.

The moment you felt his hips brush against your asscheeks, you knew; he was fully inside. The feeling foreign yet so intensely erotic. Feeling every inch of him where no one else had ever been.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure. You could barely process the conversation between Keegan and the other men, the words fading away as you bathed in the slow, sensuous motions that he was making. His movements were expertly precise, coaxing out every ounce of pleasure from your body as he moved.

Stopping for a moment, Simon's fingertips roamed over your face before you were lifted up, Keegan still seated fully inside you. Sitting down, you felt him sink in deeper than before.

Resting your head on his shoulder, Keegan’s lips brushed over your ear, his legs spreading yours wide apart. Glistening cunt on display, you watched as König moved in front of you, squeezing his cock in his hand, eyes watching your juices drip onto Keegan’s hips.

König guided his throbbing, engorged cock to your entrance, hands resting possessively on your quivering thighs, squeezing them tight and pushing them apart as he sank himself deep into your welcoming walls. His spongy, swollen tip caressed the top of your cervix, eliciting a trembling moan of pleasure from your lips. Both men stayed still inside you, savoring the moment.

The intense heat of their bodies pressed against yours as the sensation of being so full intensified. One hand sneaking into König’s hair, you pulled the man closer, lips crashing against his, a plea to move escaping your mouth between the kisses.

Keegan's hands were firm on your hips as he began to thrust, slowly lifting you up with each motion before delicately letting you sink back onto his lap. Soon enough, both men found a satisfying rhythm, setting your body on fire, skin tingling with pleasure.

König's body took possession of you, his desire and heat radiating off of him and engulfing you. Eyes opened, you sought the last man available; Simon was standing in your arm’s reach, hand wrapped around his already hard, aching cock, his gaze piercing and unyielding as he looked at you.

You were entranced by the sight of him, feeling his need and hunger for you, unable to resist his allure. Arm reaching for him, he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing next to you, cock alert and right in front of your face.

Licking your lips, you wrapped your hand around the base before your mouth closed around the tip. Sliding your tongue around him, tasting him, you savored the sensation of his velvety smoothness, your eagerness to please him palpable.

Keegan's hand slowly, teasingly caressed your aching nub, coaxing forth an immense wave of pleasure that washed through your entire body. His words of encouragement, laced with König's melodic German, and Simon's shameless gasps of delight added to the intensity of the moment, and you found yourself consumed by the heat of their bodies, the tight embrace of being sandwiched between them. Every movement, every touch, added to the ever-growing pleasure that was coursing through your veins. You felt like you could burst with the intensity of the sensations, and you never wanted it to end.

"Ich kom-gonna cum inside," König grunted, hips buckling into yours.

Everything felt so unbelievably, mind-meltingly good. You moaned around Simon’s cock as the molten pleasure in your belly grew stronger, your body trembling and tingling with the intensity of it all.

Keegan stilled the moment you opened your mouth, Simon sliding out of you as the filthiest moan left your lips, head thrown back; the feeling of König’s load coating your insides awakening your nerves, setting them on fire as he fucked you through the orgasm.

"Shit," Keegan chuckled, "did you just-"

"I think so," Simon agreed, eyes following the glistening bead of sweat trailing down your temple as your whole body quivered, legs trembling; your pliant form completely devoured by the searing pleasure.

A whimper left your lips as König pulled out, leaving you painfully empty. One last kiss, a thank you, before he retreated to the side, leaving you sitting on Keegan’s lap, his cock still deep inside your ass.

You heard Simon talk, another incoherent order being given out. Watching as he laid down, Keegan guided your hips up. Legs unable to cooperate, the man was forced to basically carry you onto Simon’s lap.

Simon’s cock slipped inside you with ease, König’s and Keegan’s remains mixing with his as all three men felt the sensation of your gummy walls tonight, the tight squeeze you were willing to give, the snug feeling of your heat.

Kneeling behind you, Keegan stared in awe at your body, spread out before him, cunt already taken over by Simon; his thrusts deliberate. Measured. Deep. The tip of his cock kissing your walls with each thrust. The delicious sight of him pleasuring you almost brought Keegan to the brink of ecstasy just by watching.

Using another spoonful of jelly, he coated his cock in it before easing back inside. Keegan felt a thrill of pleasure at the sensation of your tight walls gripping him and the sensation of being so intimately connected to you. His pleasure only increased as Simon's hands guided your movements, the speed willfully increasing.

The rhythm of their combined thrusts grew stronger and faster as Simon felt your walls quiver around him, your moans of pleasure echoing through the heated room. His breathing quickened as Keegan rode the wave of pleasure that was building inside him, the pungent smell of sex so ever-present. He felt a wave of bliss wash over him as he moved closer to climax, Simon's groans of pleasure matching your own.

"Fuck, kitten," Keegan struggled to speak, mind spiraling with pleasure as his lips pressed against the skin between your shoulder blades, "gonna fill you up so good."

With one final thrust, he shuddered, hands squeezing your hips as he tugged you back into his hips, seating himself as deep as he could possibly go. A strangled moan left your lips, eyes locked with Simon’s as the man beneath you stilled, letting Keegan ride his high, use your body to the fullest before he got to his own climax.

Sitting back, Keegan couldn’t help but stare; the sight explicit. Filthy. Watching as his own cum leaked out of your ass and dripped onto Simon’s own cock before the ghost slammed himself fully back in. Simon’s hand sneaked at the back of your neck, bringing your face to his in a teeth-clashing kiss.

Rutting up inside your used and abused body, you let him absolutely ravage you; your body becoming nothing more than a ragdoll, overtaken by a wave of sweet and erotic bliss. His thrusts passionate as he claimed your body with every stroke as if it were his own.

His name left your lips like a prayer, arms too weak to hold yourself up as he drove you to another climax. His lips were hot against your skin, sending a wave of sparks through your veins as you moved closer to the sweet release. You felt the wave rise higher with no indication of stopping, until ultimately, a wave of contentment and delight enveloped you, a feeling of euphoria washing over your entire being.

"That’s it, kitten," his lips brushed your neck, bruised from Keegan’s possessive assault as he marked you everywhere he could reach, the imprints of his teeth slightly visible. An almost animalistic grunt left Simon’s clenched teeth as he took notice.

His thrusts became heavier, hitting the deepest corners of your gummy walls as he felt himself nearing climax. His lips pressed against yours again; his hot breath on your skin, hands tangled in your hair as he moved faster.

He moaned in pleasure as he thrust harder, feeling your body shiver as you laid on him, chest pressed against his. He moved his hands down to the apex of your thighs, pushing himself deeper into you. Simon’s thrusts were relentless as if he wanted to merge himself completely with you. You felt your body heat up as his intensity increased, crying out in pleasure.

"Think you can take me?" he groaned. A moan left your lips as you nodded into the crook of his neck. You felt him tense up as his thrusts became more powerful, and he let out a deep moan as he released himself into you. His body shuddered with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly wild as if he was trying to get as deep as possible.

You felt your body trembling, breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts become sloppier. Shamelessly using the heat of your walls, the tight squeeze of your insides to ride his own high.

"Don’t forget the lady, Lt.," Keegan cheered from somewhere in the room, König’s chuckle following suit; too tired to look around to see where the men retrieved too. Simon’s fingertips danced on your tummy, sliding down before you rolled away from him, a whimper leaving your lips as his softening cock slipped out of your sensitive walls.

"S’okay," you mumbled, fingers grasping his hand to stop him, "I’m good."

"You sure?" he asked, eyes searching your face for confirmation to which you nodded. Closing your eyes, you relished in the feeling of his cum dripping out, already knowing that you were making a mess on the filthy floor of the room.

Simon sat up, hand on your ribs, eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort before he turned his head to the side.

"Keegan, bring me a warm towel," his voice was rough around the edges, "König, a glass of water."

His hand swept away the hair sticking to your face, fingertips dancing along your hairline, "you did good, pet."

A contented smile spread on your face at his words, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks; supporting your back, he help you sit up next to him as both of you waited for the guys to bring what was needed.

"Could do it again, sometimes," you said, head resting on his shoulder as his arm enveloped your upper back, supporting your weight.

"Think you could take it?"

"I think we both know the truth about that."

#könig #simon riley #keegan russ #ghost #cod #smut #moni writes #könig smut #könig x reader #ghost x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #cdmwii #reader x everyone #codghosts #ghosts

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thebearer · 1 year

Note

Your angst writings always hit so good! would you be able to do a part 2 of “I wish I never met you” ?!? love you so much! xoxo

It had been a sickening, grueling three weeks- going on four.

No phone calls, texts. You'd shown up to the apartment in the middle of the day, when you knew he was at work, moved all your stuff out. Left your key on the kitchen island. Just vanished. Like you'd never existed to him in the first place.

Like he'd never met you.

Carmen's words rang in his head in the most thundering tone, flooding his mind all the time. Prepping in the kitchen, during a rush, listening to Richie's stories, and the worst was at night. When he sat alone in the emptied apartment, where it was the loudest.

Carmen could hear his tone again, angry and biting. So cruel, cruel to the one person that wanted to do something nice for him, who cared about him during that time. Carmen pinched his eyes shut, and he could hear Mikey's voice over his own, scoffing at him, "The fuck's wrong with you, Bear?" Carmen didn't know. He really didn't.

"She text you back?" Richie asked, rounding the corner to see the piles of blue messages on Carmen's screen. He grimaced, biting his tongue, seeing Carmen's blood shot eyes, heavy with dark rings around them. The kid looked rough, that was for sure.

"Don't." Is all Carmen offered back. A short, defeated comment that had Richie flinching. There wasn't even exasperation, annoyance that someone dared to check in on him. No, this was hurt. Carmen was hurting, that was for sure.

So, Richie did what any good cousin would do, what Mikey would want him to do.

He called you. Asked to meet up, "just because you and Carm are... whatever, doesn't mean you can't talk to me, right?" He felt it was a good sign you didn't say you were broken up, an even better one when you agreed to meet.

"I don't really know if I should go-" You hesitated, looking at the black sign of The Bear- the one Carmen had been so excited about a few weeks ago.

"Nah, c'mon, I just gotta run in for a second. Can't leave you out here." Richie nodded, twisting the key into the door.

You knew you shouldn't. You wanted to see Carmen, you did, but what would you even say to him? What could you say to him?

Still, you let yourself follow Richie, lingering in the locker back rooms next to the office, back turned, hoping to avoid him.

"Thank fuck, Cousin, I needed those orders yesterd-" Carmen stopped, chef clogs squeaking against the floor, halting when he saw you.

You felt your mouth run dry, unsure of what to say, what to think. Richie could feel the tension, thick and cutting in the air. Neither one of you moved, just faced the other, waiting for them to say something-anything.

Richie cleared his throat, catching both your attentions. "'m just gonna," He stepped towards the office, opening the door and jerking his head towards it. "Let you guys talk."

Carmen hesitated, blue eyes flashing to yours, a sliver of hope swimming in the sorrow. He held his hands out, a gesture for you to go first, and when you did, he stopped himself before letting his hand trail on your back. It was what he always did when you walked in front of you, a hand on the small of your back, just so gentle and a gesture that told you he had you.

You looked around the office, your eye catching the still framed picture of the two of you. The Bear's one year anniversary, your arms around Carmen, holding his cheek close to you, lips smushed against his other cheek.

"I, uh, I-I don't even know what to fuckin' say." Carmen started, hands shaking, so he clasped them behind his back.

"I think you said it all before." You bit, a malice to your tone that was cold and mean, left Carmen cringing.

"I didn't... I didn't mean that." Carmen muttered.

"Carmen, you did."

"No, no. I-I didn't fucking mean that. Please-"

"-You don't say shit like that if you don't mean it." You glared at him pointedly.

"I didn't mean I wish I had never met you." Carmen was frustrated, heart hammering, hand running through his hair. "I-I meant that... That I wish... That I know, that you'd be better off if you'd never met me." He admitted, voice cracking and shaking with the admission.

You could feel your heart breaking, sinking low in your chest at the wobble of his bottom lip that he tried to hide, two hands pressing to his face to cover it. "I'm just... I'm so fucked up. I'm so beyond fucked, and-and you're so good to me, and I-I shouldn't... I don't want to fuck you up, ok? I don't want to ruin you and-and just do that to you, because you don't deserve it. You don't deserve any of this, baby, and I'm so fuckin' sorry."

You're reaching for him before either of you really know what's happening. It's instinct, the sob falling from his lips enough to tell you he's genuine. It's what you knew, that Carmen was emotional and hurting, but he'd never admit it. It still hurt you, how harsh his words were. Carmen's tears soaked the front of your shirt, your own falling onto his shoulder where you held him.

It was going to be a lot, a lot of rebuilding and repairing. You'd need time, so would he. He'd agree to go back to meetings again, and you'd agree to try and forgive him. You'd be better soon, with time.

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diamondheartyux · 21 days

Text

Redeem Me

Pt. 2 of The Cumenant: Sinful Sacraments

a little blasphemy crammed neatly into a preacher's pulpit

Genre: Smut 18+ Only

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: religious themes, aggression, pet names (listen,....), some more good girl'ing (...I have a problem, okay?) some blasphemy, non HEA (the whole series tbh), and smut - it's smutting in here.

Note: These are stand alone and can be read in any order :)

Read Part One here!

Check out the Spotify Playlist!

I watched as he made his way around the room, greeting the early patrons. His deep brown eyes shone bright as every smile creeped up into them. His laugh was genuine, carrying from the depths of his belly to echo around the room. Sunshine incarnate. He was painfully beautiful, the sun casting amber shades to his pupils before they landed on me with a heavy intensity that made my breath catch in my chest.

His face was animated, involved in the conversation he was in but his eyes were focused on me. I watched him take me in, roaming from my head to my mouth to my chest to my feet then back up again before tearing his gaze from me and back to the man in front of him. A tingle traveled through me, warming my stomach as a blush warmed my cheeks.

It felt wrong to be attracted to the preacher but he was so goddamn attractive. He was the reason I showed up every Sunday and Wednesday night as embarrassing as it was. Today he was clad in a black three piece suite with a black dress shirt and gray tie underneath. His dress shoes shone in the light, obviously well taken care of. The suit gave him more edge, making him even more attractive. His onyx hair was well past his ears, his bangs framing his face. His rouge color lips were plump and inviting, my eyes naturally finding their way to them. His slim fingers were adorned with silver rings that glittered in the light.

I tried to keep myself focused on the conversation I was having with a fellow patron but all I could think about was him. I pressed a hand to my cheek as another round of heat ran through it, his eyes finding me again. From my peripheral, I saw him shift before I heard soft steps making their way to me.

His angelic voice filled the space around me. He turned to face me, a hand coming to my shoulder before falling down my arm, lingering at my fingers. My stomach fluttered at the touch as my face heated again. I looked towards my feet, unable to look him in his eyes at that moment.

“If you'll excuse me,” I heard him say, “I need to borrow her for a moment.”

My head snapped up, eyes bearing into him. Confusion laced my thoughts as I stuttered through a goodbye before turning to follow the preacher towards the front of the sanctuary. The stage was centered in the room, two rows of chairs in the center for the choir. To my right there was an area for the band consisting of a keyboard, two guitars, and a drum set in a plexiglass box. The pulpit was to the left, catty cornered slightly. Along the back was a door leading to a room holding a baptismal tub.

My stomach is simultaneously in knots and full of butterflies as my nerves begin to get the best of me. I wring my hands together as I follow behind him as he opens the door. He gestures for me to go in first so I step inside, suddenly hyper aware of how my clothing fits. My dress is loose but it accents all my assets in ways I didn't mean.

I make my way into the room, running my hands down my dress to smooth it mainly out of nerves more than need. I watch as he locks the door before turning to me, his eyes roaming all over me. The hunger written in them takes me aback but also sends another tingle into my core. His tongue snakes out of his mouth, running along his bottom lip before he pulls it in with his teeth.

A smirk splays across his face as he walks towards me. Another flutter passes through my stomach and heat builds between my thighs. He approaches me, his hand reaching to play with the curl hanging against my cheek.

“Such a beauty you are.” he murmurs softly into the space between us.

“I've been watching you for weeks. You look delicious, sinfully so and I need to know how you taste.” The corners of his lips turn upward as they pull into another devious smirk. I don't have time to think much less respond before he has his lips against mine. They are soft, quite the contrast to the kiss itself. It's heavy, laced with desire. His fingers snake into my hair, now cradling the side of my face while the opposite hand runs down to grab my hip, pulling me against him abruptly. My hands come to hips, my fingers digging into his flesh.

I gasp against his mouth at the movement and he uses the moment to slip his tongue past my lips. He works feverishly, feeling every inch of my mouth. I try to suppress the moan rising in my throat as he pulls me against him more, the bulge in the front of his pants pressing against me. A sigh into his mouth, the feeling of him hard against me sending a tingle between my thighs. I return every nip, every bite he delivers to my lips with equal ferocity.

His fingers clasp my hair tighter, pulling it gently while his hand roams from my hip slowly up my stomach to grapple at my breast. He squeezes it softly, kneading it in his hand through my clothing. Another sigh passes from my mouth into his, devouring the noise. I drop a hand from his hip, running it down his pants to rub the hardness pressed against me. He breathes the softest moan into my mouth as my hand makes the first stroke across him. The sound sends my body into a frenzy. My stomach flutters, tingles spear through my entire body, and between my legs grows warmer and wetter.

Without warning, he pulls back, removing his lips from mine. I whine involuntarily at the absence of his mouth in mine earning a chuckle from him. He leans forward, tugging my hair again, before placing his lips at my ear. “Let's continue this elsewhere, shall we?”

I shudder, nodding in agreement immediately. I had a taste of what I would fantasize about. I didn't want to let it slip away.

Drunk off lust, I let him take my hand and lead me to the door. He peeks his head out, surveying the sanctuary before opening it fully. He drops my hand, gesturing again for me to exit first. I quickly run a hand through my hair before I walk out before him. The door closes behind me and then he's there beside me, his hand pressed softly into the small of my back. Checking his watch, he gently steers me across the stage.

I can see people starting to file in, preparing for the quick service scheduled for today. No one is looking this way but I feel like everyone's eyes are on me. It sends another flutter through me as we cross the stage. We come up to the pulpit and he stops. It's huge, the pulpit. It spans about three feet wide and it is at least three and a half feet tall. A cross is engraved on the front in the light colored wood. The top is flat, perfect for holding notes, water, and a Bible. The inside of it was hollow and spacious enough to fit possibly two adults in. This is where he wants me to go.

At first I wasn't sure I understood but a soft shove against my back clarified for me. The front of his pants still stood stiff and he stood in a way to take the attention off it. My mouth watered at the sight before I obediently dropped to my knees, crawling into the pulpit. My body hums. What if someone saw me? What would they think? Excitement and embarrassment mix together, sending my body into a frenzy.

I grasped the leg of his suit, frozen momentarily as I listened to the hush murmurs filing into the room behind me. He made no effort to acknowledge me, instead I watched as he clipped the portable microphone to his collar, tucking the battery into his pocket before adjusting his cuffs. He opened his Bible, stacking papers from between the pages. After laying everything out, he looked down where I was peering out and up at him to give me a wink before focusing on the room before him.

Emotions prickled through me, my heart racing as it thudded against my chest. I squeezed my legs together against the ache growing between them. I caressed his leg, working my hand slowly up to his thigh, stopping to squeeze gently before sliding a hand over the front. His erection pressed against the zipper of his pants, straining the fabric against it. Every piece of me wanted to rip the zipper down and take him into my mouth that second in hopes to drink him dry but another piece of me wanted to play. How long could he go before he bust? Could he really preach a sermon without a single moan? Surely the microphone on his collar would pick up the pace of his breathing.

With a wicked grin, I continued teasing. I pawed at his pants, brushing him with my fingers lightly. I squeezed his thighs over and over, each time a little harder than the last. I kissed the fabric of his pants lazily up his leg before placing soft, quick kisses on the bulge so clearly wanting to be touched. He shifted on his feet, a hand coming under the pulpit to grasp my hair, leading my face to his crotch.

He had begun speaking but I couldn't hear what he was saying over the buzzing in my skull and the throbbing between my thighs. My face was buried against him and, to be a tease, I placed another soft kiss on the front of his pants. The hand in my hair released, falling down to the side before swatting my cheek. Excitement shot through me. I rubbed him through his pants, this time a little more aggressively before kissing the fabric once more.

I felt him rock against me slightly before his hand met my cheek again. My cheeks burned, blush creeping through my entire face. I adjusted myself on my knees, careful to avoid knocking any part of the pulpit. I placed my hands on the outside of his thighs before I nuzzled him with my face. I felt his body shudder slightly at the contact. I planted more kisses across the front of his pants, squeezing his thighs tightly.

His hand made contact with my cheek again before gripping my face firmly as best as he could given the angle. He squeezed it once before releasing me, pushing his hips towards me. I roll my lip between my teeth before I reach to grab his zipper. I salivate subconsciously in anticipation of what's to come.

I pull his zipper down slowly before reaching up to unbutton his pants. I pull the top of his boxers down, freeing him from his fabric prison. My eyes widen at the sight of him. He was much bigger than I had ever thought he would be and I worried I didn't have the capacity for him in any orifice.

He pushes his hips forwards again and this time I reach up to wrap my hand around him. Gripping softly, I begin to slowly stroke him. Up and down, twisting at the tip. Softly, slowly, teasingly. I lowered my hand down to his base before I softly flicked my tongue against his head. Turning my face, I run my tongue from the tip to the base and back up again, flicking my tongue against his tip like I was licking a lollipop.

His hips push forward slightly and I hear him clear his throat before speaking again. I have no idea what he's on about but I know I want to make him struggle again. I stroke him again before opening my mouth, tongue out, and pat his head against me quickly wrapping my mouth around his head. I give him a light suck before popping him out of my mouth to stroke and repeat. His head is soft against my lips and I rub it against them before flicking my tongue over his tip again.

The hand comes back, fisting my hair to tug roughly. I grin, tapping him against my tongue one more time before I swallow his head into my mouth. I feel the sigh through his body, the relief of finally being where he wanted to be. I work his head slowly, torn between teasing him more or seeing how fast I can make him cum.

I work more of him into my mouth, keeping constant, soft suction, moaning as he fills me entirely. I stroke him with one hand, the other snaking into his pants to grab his balls, squeezing and tugging them softly. He coughs above me which only sends thrills through me. My crotch aches, desperate for touch and I slide a hand under my dress and into my panties. I suck him harder, taking him until he's touching the back of my throat.

I moan quietly, the sound vibrating off his cock and my fingers rub circles against my clit. I was soaking wet already and I'd only just begun. I would surely explode before this was over. I suck harder, focusing on holding him fully before my gag reflex can catch up. When it does, I come off him, a trail of spit bridging the space between my lips and his cock. My eyes water and I know my mascara will undoubtedly be ruined at the end of this. I spit on his head before pumping my hand up and down to spread it all over him.

I suck him back in my mouth once again to repeat the process. I shoved my face down him until my nose touched the front of his pants. His hand curled in my hair grips harder, pulling me tightly against him as he pushed his hips forward. I gag hard, tears forming in my eyes but he keeps me in place, bucking softly. A moment later, his hand releases my hair and I pull off him. I gasp for air slightly, drawing in a deep breath before I dive back in. My fingers work my clit feverishly and I moan against him, warmth coiling tightly in my stomach.

He reaches underneath the pulpit again to hold my head in place as I gag on his cock again. When he releases me, I can hear a prayer leaving his lips. I smirk before I suck him back in my mouth again. I can feel his body all but heaving breaths under my touch and it's a wonder the microphone hasn't picked it up. I suck him hard and fast, desperate for his release. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to hear him. I shove him to the back of my throat, sucking as much as I can. The tightness in my stomach is threatening to break and I moan against him again.

His hand pops my cheek again but I don't stop. I ram him into my throat, gagging on him again. I take enough time to catch a breath before I have him back against my throat. His cock is the only thing stifling the moans I can't control now. I rock against my fingers, the dam holding everything back on the verge of bursting. His hand holds me against him again. Tears roll down my cheeks as I gag again before I feel the coil snap. My orgasm slams into me and I have to work to keep quiet, humming against his cock as wave after wave slams into me.

His hips rock against my face softly as I come down off my high. I pop him out of my mouth, stroking him softly. His other hand comes into view, practically prying me off him to tuck himself back in his pants before zipping them up. I realize the room is murmured again, the sounds growing quieter. After a few moments, he steps back and squats down to look at me.

He pulls a tissue from his pocket and dabs my face gently. Once he finishes, he pockets the tissue and motions for me to come out. I crawl out, standing slowly. My legs ache from sitting on them so long. He reaches out, placing a hand on the small of my back before leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“To my office” is all he says before he gives me a small push forward. I make my way out of sanctuary and down the narrow hall to the room at the end. I keep my head up despite how embarrassed I feel. It's like everyone is looking at me despite the fact no one has noticed me. My cheeks flush as we finally make it to the door. He reaches down, placing a key into the lock before opening the door for me. I walk in and hear the door close and lock behind me.

The room was decent sized. A large oak desk sat directly in sight of the door, two chairs in front of it. It was covered in papers, a phone sitting on the side with a lamp next to it. To my left was a leather love seat fit snugly in the small space. A row of windows ran across the wall beside it.

I watch as he begins to close the blinds on the four ceiling to floor windows before turning to me again. His eyes are all but glowing as they focus on me, a hunger flashing across them. A tingle shoots through me at the sight of him, like a predator with its prey. His eyes are trained on me. I watch as he takes me in from head to toe, swiping his tongue absent-mindedly across his lips.

He crosses the short distance between us, backing me against his desk, shoving the chairs out the way in the process. I grip the edge of his desk with my hands to keep me balanced, my heart pounding violently against my chest. His eyes study mine before flickering to my lips. His chest heaves, his breaths coming in pants. I can hear his breathing shiver and I bite my lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape.

In that moment, he moves. His lips are on mine, kissing me as if he needs my mouth to survive. His hands roam my body, grasping anything and everything as if he can't decide what he wants to touch first. His teeth nip my lips and I groan softly. He nips again before kissing my jaw up to my neck where he nibbles the spot below my ear. I bury my face into his neck, kissing across his shoulder as I bring one hand off the desk to wrap around him.

I press my body against his, desperate to feel his skin as if I needed to be closer than we already were. It wasn't enough. I wanted more. I *needed* more. He moans softly in my ear when my teeth prick against the skin of his shoulder. The sound sends shivers through me and my knees threaten to give out. As if sensing this, he grabs my hips and lifts me to sit on the edge of the desk, working his way to stand between my legs.

He presses against me before pressing his lips against mine. He hungrily works his tongue into my mouth, eager to taste me. I moan softly again, bringing my hands to his hips to pull him against me more. He runs a hand under my dress and I gasp against him when his hand makes contact with my skin. His touch leaves electricity in its wake. My skin is desperate for his touch. He works his hand on my stomach and between my breasts before he wraps his hand around my neck to squeeze. I can feel the coolness of his rings against my skin and the sensation mixed with the pressure is delectable . I moan again and he squeezes the side of my neck harder.

I buck my hips against him, feeling the hardness pressed between us. My fingers dig into the skin of his hips as his hand releases my neck, sliding down to my chest. He teases me, pawing the edge of my bra softly before dipping his fingers under it to grab my breast. I gasp at the touch as his fingers roll my nipple between them softly. He squeezes it softly before tugging it slightly, releasing it only to grope my breast roughly. His fingers return to my nipple, brushing them lightly before rolling it between his fingers again.

My body aches, needing and wanting to be filled. I moan quietly before it morphs into a whine as he pulls his lips from mine. He dips his head down, pushing my dress and bra cup upward, the cool air of the room hitting my bare skin. He sucks my nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue across it softly before his teeth graze it. I lean my head back, running my hand through his hair as he sucks and nibbles on my nipple again. His mouth quickly retreats only to make contact with the opposite breast. His hand cups my free breast, his fingers working the nipple there while his mouth works the other.

I moan softly, biting my lip. It felt so good having his mouth on me. The sensations shooting straight to my core. I squeezed my legs around him, drawing him into me. It felt so good but if I didn't get him inside me soon, I was going to lose it.

As if reading my mind, he pulled back, popping my breast from his mouth. My dress falls down to my thighs, covering me again. He grabbed my hips, pulling me forward to teeter on the edge of the desk. I place both hands on either side of me to hold myself in place. My stomach fluttered. I looked into his eyes, my own lust filled gaze meeting his glazed over stare. I reach over and grab my dress, bunching it up before I spread my legs. My panties are soaking wet, the spot clearly visible. A low growl ripples through him as he takes me in.

He lowers himself to his knees, pushing my knees further apart. Reaching up, he grabs both sides of my panties, pulling on them. I lift my hips to allow them to come down and he slides them off of me before tossing them to the side. I lean back, spreading my legs again to bare myself to him. Another hungry growl escapes him as he takes in my dripping wet pussy.

Without wasting another breath, he presses his face between my legs, his tongue lapping against my lips. I shiver slightly as he runs two fingers between my folds before spreading my lips open. He dives in immediately, flicking my clit with his tongue softly at first. I press myself against his face, leaning back on my hands. My head lolls back as he continues to lap at my pussy like it's water and he's on the verge of dehydrating.

The quickness in which the coil in my stomach tightened was alarming. He was really, really good with his tongue. He nipped at my clit, drawing circles over and over before he ran two fingers between my wet folds again, dipping them into me softly. Once inside me, he began his assault on my clit once more. Flicking up and down while his fingers pumped in and out.

I brought my legs to wrap around him, which he placed over his shoulders. I squeezed as best as I could, bringing a hand to fist into his hair. I grinded rhythmically against his face, whimpering softly as he brought me closer to the edge. I tugged at his hair before pressing his face against me. His tongue and fingers began to work faster.

My head was still lolled back but I swung it forward to watch him as he ate me like a five course meal. The sight was beautiful, a sin in its own right. His mouth glistened with my juices. His breath came in puffs. He moaned softly against me and it sent a flutter through me. I closed my eyes and lolled my head back again before looking down again. This time his eyes were on me and the sight almost sent me over the edge.

My eyes locked with his as I thrust my hips against his face. His fingers curled in a come here motion inside me, hitting the perfect spot. My eyes fluttered as he continued to lick, pump, and curl. I moaned loudly before I looked down again.

“P-ppastor…I'm…..fuck!” was all I managed to get out before my second orgasm slammed into me. My legs tightened around his head and my head went back as my body convulsed against him, the waves stronger this time. My eyes rolled back as they rocked me continuously for what felt like ages. His tongue never stopped, working me through my pleasure. When the last bit rolled out, he pulled himself away from me, his mouth glistening with my juices.

The sight turned me on, which I didn't understand especially after cumming twice already. This was new to me. My body craved him in all ways. I reached down, tugging at him, desperate to taste myself on his lips. He denied me the taste only long enough to pull me off the desk and grab my dress. He lifted it, pulling it over my head before tossing it aside. His hands caressed my stomach before running over my breasts and behind me, his fingers working the clasp of my bra. I feel it come undone and slowly pull it away from me, discarding it with the rest of my clothes.

If you would have told me I would be standing naked, dripping wet in a pastor's office, I never would believe you but that was before him. I watch him take me in, a fire burning in his eyes. I reach forward and begin to undo his tie while he begins to remove his pants. I rip his tie off, setting it down on the desk next to me before I begin unbuttoning his vest and then his shirt. I shimmy them down his arms, tossing them aside before I lean in and press my lips to his.

The taste of my mixes in our mouths and it drives me. I press my body flush with his, pawing at him desperately. I run my hands into his hair and tug hard. A groan leaves his lips and I lap it up before the room around us can eat up the sound. I roll his bottom lip between my teeth, pressing into it gently. He groans again before he flips me around swiftly. He presses into my back, his right hand coming up to my throat and his left sliding between my legs. He squeezes my throat while his fingers rub my clit. He presses himself against my back, rubbing his erection against my back.

I moan softly, my hands grasping at legs. I was desperate for him and he was teasing me.

“Mmm Pastor, please.” I groan softly. His grip on my neck tightens.

“Please what, angel?” I blush slightly. I've never outright asked someone to fuck me but god, I really needed him to fuck me.

“Please, Pastor Jung, please..” I responded as whiny as I could. He pressed himself harder into my back before lowering his mouth to my ear. “Use your words, princess” he whispered and I shuddered at the sound of him in my ear.

“Please, fuck me.” I whispered, the sound barely audible and almost a ghost in the room. He squeezed my neck again but this time stopped rubbing my clit. He nipped my ear with his teeth before he spoke again.

“Louder or I stop here.”

“Fuck me” I said forcefully, meaning every word of it. I could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered in my ear again. “Good girl”

In seconds, I was shoved forward, hands splayed on the desk to hold me up. My legs were spread, one held up by the knee, and he was pressed against me. I moaned softly at the feel of him touching me and he ran himself up and down my wet folds before lining himself up at my entrance. In one swift motion, he thrust into me until he bottomed out. A loud moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I slapped my hand over my mouth, worried someone might have heard. He chuckled softly before leaning into my ear.

“Make noise, princess. For all they know, I'm performing an exorcism. There's a demon of lust hiding in here and I have to drive them out.”

I moaned against my hand slightly as he pulled out of me just to slam back into me. I yelped into my palm, the force rocking me forward. His free pushed me forward to where I was half lying on the desk, my ass out with him buried balls deep in my pussy. His left hand still held my leg out, giving him more room. He pulled himself back and rammed into me again. I rocked against the desk, pushing papers every time I moved forward. He continued to pull out and slam back into me hard, slowly picking up pace. The pleasure was overwhelming.

With my hand still clasped over my mouth, I moaned loudly with every thrust. His hand dropped my leg, moving to grasp my hips as he pummeled into me almost angrily. The slick sound of our bodies clashing filled the air around us, mingling with my stifled moans and his guttural groans. The next thrust, he removed his hands from my hips, slamming in me and holding himself there as he leaned forward to grab his tie. Once in his grasp, he quickly looped it around my throat like a makeshift leash. He tugged it quickly before pulling back almost completely out of me.

Sliding back into me, he pulled the tie hard the moment he bottomed out. The pressure was different then his hand and it simultaneously frightened and turned me on. He wrapped the extra length of the tie around his fist, keeping tension on it as he fucked me harder and faster. My eyes fluttered, rolling back in my head before they closed completely. The tension in my stomach was coiling again.

He tugged the tie tighter before lifting his other hand, bringing it down harshly against my ass. The sound vibrated across the room. The contact stinging initially before morphing into pleasure. I moan against my hand. His hand came down again, this time harder, smacking the previous spot on my ass. Pain radiated through me before again turning into pleasure. I moaned again, louder this time, before I dropped my hand from my mouth.

The pain mixing with pleasure was a new sensation. My core throbbed as the coil in my stomach tightened more. The pressure on the tie loosened and I gasped slightly, not realizing how much flow it cut off. I didn't have long to gather myself before his hands were knotted in my hair. He pulled my head back violently, an almost animalistic growl flowing from his lips. My body shuddered under his. “Pastor…” I barely whimper out.

He smirks. “My name. Call me by my name.” I moan softly at the demand before I obey.

“Woo, …Wooyoung. Fuck. It feels so good. You feels so.fucking.good. Please, don't stop” I moan.

“Such a dirty little angel you are. You come to my church with this body and covet me in front of my entire congregation. You reeked of sin. I had no choice but to cleanse you, to redeem you, do you understand? I have to remedy the lust you carry.” he growls as he thrust into me harder before pressing my face into the desk beneath me, holding me there.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..” he breathes into the space around us, driving deeper and deeper into me. His free hand lifts and comes down hard against my ass again.

“...thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..”

I moan loudly as he thrust into me, fucking me like an absolute animal. He growls again, slamming into me before continuing, “And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil…”

The heat in my stomach is all but fire now and the coil is yet again threatening to snap. His hand presses my face harder against the desk, his fingers curling in my hair. Tears begin to fall down my face, everything I'm feeling overwhelming me.

“...but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen” his hand comes down against my ass again, striking the same spot before he slides it around, dipping between my legs, circling his fingers against my clit. He rams into me one, two, three more times before I feel it snap. My orgasm hits like a typhoon, breaking everything inside me.

“God, Wooyoung!’ I cry out loudly, unable to cover my mouth or care even if I could. He grunts at the sound, picking up his speed as he slams into me faster. My body shutters as I clench around him. My eyes roll back, my vision dancing at the power of my third orgasm.

“Fuck” I hear him whisper under his breath before he rams into me again. I watch from my peripheral as he pulls out of me, lifting his hand from my head, taking my hair with it. “Up” he orders.

I stand up obediently, watching as he strokes himself. “On your knees..”

I fall to my knees in front of him and look up at him. “Open your mouth”

I immediately open my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out. I look up at him, watching his eyes as he wildly strokes himself to completion.

He watches me with an intense gaze, moans flying freely from his mouth as he pumps himself.

“Fuck….” He whispers, “fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck” he groans before he thrusts his hips forward, his cock twitching as it shoots thick, hot white cum out across my tongue. I keep my mouth open, holding obediently as his own orgasm crashes through him causing his body to shake almost violently. His hand slows down, sliding up one last time to squeeze every last drop out of him.

He taps the head of his cock against my tongue and I wrap my mouth around it, sucking softly, desperate to swallow the seed dripping from it. He shivers at the touch before pulling himself out of my suction. He leans down and pulls his pants back up over himself before leaning down to grasp my elbow and pull me upright.

He buttons his pants and grabs my clothes from the side of the desk and hands them to me. We dress in silence before he turns back to me, a smile on his face. He motions towards the door, reaching for the knob. He unlocks it and leans forward to whisper in my ear.

“If I catch you eye fucking me in my church again, next time I won't go so easy on you.” He grins before opening the door to his office, ushering me out.

“Please don't hesitate to see me again, ma'am. If you need anything, please stop by anytime. The church is here for you” he bolsters loudly before gently shoving me into the hall and shutting the door behind me.

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #wooyoung #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez #wooyoung smut #fanfic #fanfiction #smut series #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #oneshot #female reader

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moralesmilesanhour · 2 months

Text

baby's breath and burnout. 01

summary: a flowerbyte florist x tattoo artist au. wc: 1,800

Margo had been working at Jessica Drew’s flower shop for four years now.

The tall, dark-skinned black woman’s face was smooth and shiny in the way that soon-to-be mothers’ faces tended to be when the younger entered her shop for the first time. One hand rested just below her stomach, while the other adjusted and re-adjusted the arrangement of hydrangeas sitting in a green vase by the cash register.

Margo had her hair freshly slicked back with what must’ve been a pound of gel, ending in one big puff at the back of her head. Her eyeliner was winged sharply at the edges of her eyes, the only sharp thing on her face with her rounded cheeks and gently-sloped nose.

“Margo, right?”

A tooth-gapped smile spread across her face when Margo’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Your friend told me you were coming.”

“I gotta warn you, I don’t know much about flowers, but I can work a register.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure you learn a thing or two about flower arrangements,” Jess waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll have you shadow me for a little bit, then you’re on your own.”

“Sounds intense.”

She shrugged.

“If you can cut flowers and put ‘em in the right order, you’ll be fine. Most people just get roses anyway.”

Margo laughed, revealing a smile that mirrored the other woman’s.

a new customer.

The bell above the door rang to welcome a new customer. Margo was in the middle of getting the last hydrangea settled into the middle of the vase, her back to the entrance.

“Welcome to Jess’ Flowers, how can I–”

“Hey, you!”

She stopped dead in her tracks when she recognized the man who had tattooed her two weeks ago. He wore a white graphic t-shirt instead of a hoodie, the sleeve just short enough that Margo noticed unintelligible lines of dark ink peeking out from beneath it.

She couldn’t remember what had been written on his name tag (something starting with an ‘M’), but he seemed to remember hers.

“Margo?”

“Yup,” Margo replied as she abandoned her vase to get behind the counter. “I remember you had an ‘M’ name too, right?”

She hummed the ‘m’ sound, waiting for him to complete it. “Miles,” he said with an easy grin. “My last name’s Morales, so I’ve actually got two of ‘em.”

Margo had her sleeves rolled up, so the new ink on her forearm was visible once he approached the counter.

Miles pointed to it, “Can I see?”

“Sure.”

She held her arm out, not expecting him to gently take it as he had at the tattoo parlor to examine his work with a furrowed brow. He ran his thumb across her wrist as Margo watched his face for any sign of error. It looked perfect to her, but you never know, right?

She was frozen in place until Miles let go and nodded approvingly.

“It healed up really nicely, you did a good job.”

“That’s a relief. The way you were lookin’ at it, I thought I might have to get it removed,” she laughed.

“Nah, it’s just that I’ve had clients come back with all types of infections,”

He began counting on his fingers as he rattled off bits of advice, clearly no longer focused on Margo.

“I tell everybody ‘keep it clean and dry’, ‘don’t scratch it’, but then they don’t, and come back asking me to re-do it–”

Miles stopped himself before he went on a tangent about proper tattoo aftercare. He lowered his hands.

“...Thank you for following directions, is what I’m saying.”

“No problem! It’s one of my many talents,” Margo said.

She stood there, hands primly folded behind her back as she smiled like a doofus.

A silence took over for a few seconds before she suddenly remembered her job.

“Uh, right. Did you want anything?”

Miles blinked twice before it came back to him.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, sorry. I had just walked past and saw y’all had roses?”

“We do,” Margo said carefully, her smile faltering.

“Who’s…the lucky lady?”

“They're, uh, for my mom,” he corrected, scratching the back of his neck. “I'm visiting my folks’ house for the first time in a while.”

“Oh,” Margo nodded slowly as her face heated up with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s real sweet of you. The flowers are in the back, just–um–gimme a second!”

She rushed out from behind the register and to the back of the shop, where a pile of un-trimmed roses lay waiting. She was supposed to get that done half an hour ago, at any rate.

If you worked there long enough, putting a bouquet together became as mundane as taking orders at a drive-thru: Cut the dead leaves, snip a couple inches off of the stems at a 45-degree angle, just so. Rinse and repeat.

After doing this, Margo wrapped the blooms tightly with pink paper.

Had she not been so frazzled by Miles’ sudden appearance, she would’ve told him that there were other flowers that moms liked. Men always came in with only roses in mind, for any and every occasion. Yet another thing Jess had been right about.

Margo wrapped the bouquet neatly in a bright red ribbon, after adding bits of baby’s breath in between the roses as filler. Creative liberties.

“Here you are,” she held it up proudly like a newborn. “Hope your mom enjoys these.”

“Me too,” He joked as he cradled it just as gently in his arms. He was careful to not wrinkle the paper too much or ruin the flowers. A hopeful look crept onto his face.

“See you around?”

Margo reclaimed her spot behind the register and waved. “Maybe.”

She would bury her face in her hands for saying this as soon as he left, but it made Miles laugh.

the day in question.

Margo fiddled with her sleeves as she entered the tattoo parlor a couple blocks from her workplace. It was sandwiched between a pet shop and a boutique, and the slightly uneven entrance gave you the impression that it was being crushed between two invisible hands.

A brown-skinned Indian man with a full head of wavy, mahogany locks stood behind the front desk. He had it cut into choppy bangs in the front, with slightly longer bits peeking out from the nape of his neck. The bangs were held up by a bright blue headband, which stood out against his orange hawaiian shirt. He smiled at her, though it didn’t reach his wide eyes. The slight bags beneath them made him look happier than he was regardless.

“Here for an appointment?”

“Yup, tattoo.”

“Do you have a sketch or a picture of the design with you?”

Margo reached into her tote bag and pulled out the sheet of paper that Gwen drew on.

“Cool. He’ll be here in a second.”

The cracked and peeling leather of the waiting bench squeaked beneath Margo’s weight as she bounced her leg up and down, her nerves mounting by the second. The designs crowding the wall across from her were all flaming skulls that gnashed and snarled, or stoic samurai surrounded by dragons that curled tentatively around them, all shaded with dark hatched lines. She had all but forgotten Gwen’s advice to check at least one of the artists’ social media before going; she had just up and left the house with the feverish excitement of doing something drastic.

Margo tried to imagine what her tattoo artist would look like, but couldn’t conjure up anything more creative than a pale hipster wearing a black beanie and a t-shirt with the name of a band she had never heard of written on it. The thought dissipated when a man’s soft voice caught her attention.

“Margo? Margo…Kess?”

Margo had to crane her neck to get a good look at the lean black man standing by the front desk.

She got the beanie part right. Pale, not so much.

He wore a bright red hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to reveal an expanse of deep russet-brown, completely devoid of any ink whatsoever. This would’ve invited the possibility that he was there to take her to the room where her assigned artist actually was, if he wasn’t in the middle of removing white gloves stained with ink at the fingertips.

The man looked around the room for a good minute before locking eyes with Margo, and it was then that she remembered to answer.

“Oh, that’s me, sorry!”

She shot up from her seat with an awkward grin plastered across her face. This made him burst into short, breathy laughter.

“Then why you ain’t say nothing? Had me looking around an empty room like a dumbass.”

The light, easy tone of the man’s voice softened his crass language. His smile dazzled her when he held out a now-gloveless hand for her to shake.

“I’m Miles.”

“Margo–ooh, wait, you know that already. My bad.”

This made Miles snort and laugh even harder.

“I think we’re gonna be good friends, Margo. Follow me.”

Margo held her breath, trying to remain stock-still as Miles pressed the cold stencil to her forearm. She didn’t so much as speak until he was finished applying it.

“Sorry for not bringing that in beforehand. I kinda did this on impulse, y’know?”

“That’s alright, it’s just a flash,” he rose to his feet from the stool he was sitting on. “It’s cute.”

He held her gaze with warm brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief when they caught the light. She averted her eyes to look at one of the drawings on the wall behind him.

“Thanks.”

The hum of the machine had made Margo nervous at first.

“How much will it hurt?” she asked with a false air of humor. “Scale of one to ten.”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now,” he looked up briefly with a grin. “It’s on your arm, and the needle’s not that big, so…I’d say about a two.”

“How do you know?”

The question gave voice to the thought she’d been holding onto since she walked in.

Miles chuckled softly. “I got ink, just not where you can see it. You ready?”

With this new-found assurance, Margo relaxed into the big leather armchair as Miles went to work. He was right; she only felt a tingling, bordering-on-itchy sensation as the needle traveled across her skin. Gwen hadn’t colored in the sketch she brought in, which meant that there was no shading or coloring to be done. Margo had a monarch butterfly on her arm before she knew it.

“You like it?”

Miles flashed another smile at her as he spread a cool gel over the tattoo. He already knew what she would say.

“Are you kidding?” Margo lifted her arm and held it up to the light. “I love it.”

#atsv #atsv fic #flowerbyte #cyberflower #miles morales #margo kess #miles morales fic #moralesanhour

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mamayan · 9 months

Note

This is just some brain thought I had after reading your latest delicious creation of the baby trapping yan. But why aren’t there more stories or at least short hc lists of what life is like post preg with a yan? I wanna know what the child/s think of their family dynamic of yan and spouse. Does the child/s end up normal? Do they end up platonic yan for non yan parent? Is child/s relationship with yan good? Is it bad? I just feel like it’s such an untapped market for stories and ideas. Cause life still goes on even after the HEA…and having a child/s with yan changes so much of behavioral, situational, etc. of the story compared to pre prego that all the ifs ands buts put so much more on stake. Sorry for tangent. Just needed to get my thoughts out

You got a point Nonnie~

cw: Yandere Themes • Child Care

After Thoughts

“Mama!” Giggles and laughter always fill the space left behind.

Your cheeks hurt from laughter, the sun slowly setting as you curl up with a thin book, hugging the small soft toddler still trying to wiggle out of your arms for another round of chase.

“Papa! Chase! Chase!” Only relenting their struggle as your voice begins the slow fairy tale they know so well.

“Once upon a time there was a princess…” you chuckle at the inside joke, eyes twinkling at they catch his, the satisfaction and pride in his gaze addicting. “She was lonely and lost, until…” you drawl out, finally grasping the small child’s full attention.

“The Prince came! I know mama!” Their happy cheer only encouraging you as you continue the story.

“She was so lonely without the Prince, but she didn’t know her Prince was really her Prince, so she put him through a series of tests.” You turn the page, the warm room filling with the sound of paper moving. “The Prince had to know every detail of the Princess, if he didn’t, how could he be her Prince? So he learned everything. What her favorite food was, favorite color, and even the things she didn’t like.”

“Like brussel sprouts?” Their little nose bunches up, showing their clear dislike for the leafy green.

“Mhm, even that,” you nod, kissing their soft cheek as a weight draped over your shoulders, dragging you both into a solid embrace.

His eyes look cool and calculating at times, confusion occasionally catching you off guard as he directs that icy stare your way, freezing your blood in your veins.

“B-but that’s not all! The Prince loved the Princess so much, he built her a beautiful castle!” You feel the heavy pressure on your shoulders lessen, his arm wrapping more protectively than possessively around you.

Your heart is slow to settle even as you continue the story, until he interrupts.

“The Princess didn’t like the castle right away, even though it had everything she liked.” His deep timbre right next to your ear as you swallow thickly and hug the child tighter, their wide innocent stare clueless and naive.

“Why Papa?”

“Because she didn’t know any better. Sometimes when we don’t know any better, we get scared and make mistakes. That’s okay though, the Prince was very patient, and made sure the Princess understood how dangerous it was outside the castle.”

You stiffen minutely as he traces a small strand of hair off your ear, your eyes vacant as they stare at the corner of the book.

“And they lived happily ever after?” Your toddler asks in such a soft tone, it’s hardly audible.

“Yes” he breathes, teeth carefully pressing into your neck for a quick open mouthed kiss.

“They lived happily ever after in the beautiful castle, having an adorable little baby as proof of their love.” His grin is sharp, canines pronounced as your child chirps with joy and claps in excitement.

You smile, wobbly and weak, as a hand wraps around your neck and forces your head up and back.

His eyes just barely open, a dark amusement in their depths at the glittering tears hanging on your lash line.

Dividers by the lovely @benkeibear

#tw: yandere #Yan answers #tw: child care #yandere #yancore #after story for a yandere #male yandere #female darling

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peachesofteal · 2 years

Text

Witchling / Chapter 1

I have actual work I'm supposed to be doing but here we are.

Morpheus/reader 2.5k words Warnings: E for Explicit, Minors DNI. Explicit sex, fingering, creampie (in this economy?), creampie eating, NO HEA, angst, sweet then sour, Morpheus kind of manhandles you. You try to stay away from other magical beings, on principle.

“Can I help you?” the man standing in the middle of The New Inn seems completely lost. He looks around at the faces in the room, before stepping towards where you stand behind the bar.

“I am looking for someone.” He tells you. His voice is hypnotic. You catch yourself staring at him before you quickly look away. Something on the tip of your nose tingles. It’s the feeling you get when there’s magic nearby, and you study the strange man more intently. He’s different.

“Who? Maybe I know them?”

“His name is Hob Gadling.” His blue gray eyes catch yours, turning to face you fully, and your breath leaves in a whoosh. He’s beautiful.

“Ah, the professor.” You collect yourself with a nod. “He’s over this way.” You drop your rag and lead the man towards a back room, where Hob sits next to a roaring fireplace. “Let me know if you need anything!” you call over your shoulder as you make your way back to the bar.

“Heterochromia.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your eyes.” He answers, gaze not leaving your face. It’s startling. You glance at Hob over the shoulder of this stranger. He gives you a weird grimace as if to say, ‘sorry, my mate here is a bit weird’.

“Thanks, poppet.” Hob interrupts as the strange man is about to open his mouth again and slides a bill across the sleek wood grain of the bar. You toss it in the tip bucket behind you with a grin.

“My pleasure, professor. Sir.” You hesitate on the last word, unsure.

“Morpheus.” The name falls over you with a shiver. Morpheus. He’s magic, for sure. Just the sight of him tells you he’s not of this realm. But who is he? And what?

“Morpheus.” You repeat it back to him, and he gives you an approving nod. Hob pulls him away to settle in a booth far in the corner, but he turns to look back at you once more before sitting. You can’t help but stare at him, he’s captivating.

“Aristotle called it heteroglaucos.” You whirl from where you’re placing pints into the dishwasher.

“You’re back.” You wipe your hands on a towel as you approach him from the other side of the bar.

“I am.”

“Another round?” you reach for two glasses, clinking them together accidentally.

“Yes.”

“Same thing?” He hesitates, looking towards where Hob is sitting.

“Yes.” You pour the beers, trying to nonchalantly study him out of the corner of your eye. You place them on the bar and tell him the total. He blinks at you. You repeat yourself, eyebrows raised, nose tingling again. He looks back towards Hob again, who is rising from his seat.

“Hob will purchase them.” You begin to explain that the professor doesn’t pay, but he collects the beers from the bar and walks off. Hob steps up, slightly exasperated.

“Professor, your friend is uh…”

“Odd.” He finishes for you. You laugh out loud, the sound reverberating above the commotion in the bar. The professor’s friend, Morpheus, turns in the middle of the floor to look at you. Your cheeks heat as you feel his gaze on your body. “Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless.” He winks, and then slides you another bill for ‘your trouble’.

“So, Morpheus.” He’s standing next to the end of the bar as he waits for the professor, who stepped outside to take a call. “It’s Greek, yeah?” He regards you curiously before answering.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“That’s cool.” Morpheus smiles at you. It’s small, only the very corners of his mouth tilt upwards, but it fills you with butterflies. Jesus. This man is like a modern day Adonis. With a weird Hades vibe. It’s hot, you decide. Very hot.

Of course, they’re the last two when it’s time to close. You can’t be too mad. It’s Hob, after all.

“All set?” Hob and Morpheus stand at the front door, waiting for you as you pull on your denim jacket. You wished you had brought something warmer. It’s blustery out, a bitter winter cold that cuts into your bones. You hate the cold. Hob catches your eye as you give them both a thumbs up. The professor always waits for you at the end of the night if he’s here, ensuring that you lock up okay and at least leave the parking lot safely. It’s very sweet. You’ve definitely worked for worse owners.

You fit the key into the locks as they stand away from you, voices soft as they murmur to one another. You turn silently, taking the opportunity to watch them. They speak with familiarity, warmth bleeding into their tones as they exchange words, the professor chuckling softly.

“So, soon then?” he asks.

“Perhaps.” Morpheus answers.

“You know where to find me.” Hob says.

“Indeed.” Morpheus turns to you. “Hob has informed me you live nearby.” You glance at the professor with wide eyes. “I would like to walk you home.” What. Your stomach flips. Hob gives an encouraging shake of the head, winking as he turns his back to trek over to his apartment. You gulp. It’s not ideal, seeing as you were raised to keep your distance from any other magical beings. The professor is an exception of course, as rare as they come. However, you can’t find it in you to rebuff him. You give Morpheus a feeble grin in agreement.

“You are cold.” He observes, no doubt noticing that hands that are shoved in your pockets, your shoulders that are shaking in the frigid air. You shrug. “It was warmer out, during the day. I didn’t think it’d be this cold at night.” You try to explain for the lack of preparedness. He frowns, and then begins shucking off his coat with haste. “Oh, oh no. I couldn’t.” you push a shivering hand out to him, a signal to stop, but he ignores you. “I insist.” He holds it out for you, motioning for you to slide your arms into the sleeves. You’re blushing like an idiot as you turn into it, and his hands linger on your shoulders a moment longer than necessary.

“Some cultures once held the belief that heterochromia signified the afflicted was a witch.” He says casually. Oh shit.

“Well, that’s pretty silly.” Your voice wavers, only slightly, but you know he can hear it. You clear your throat and attempt to change the subject.

“So, have you known Hob long then?”

“For many years.” His fingers brush against yours. Just the singular touch, and you can feel warmth pooling deep inside you. “Many centuries, in fact.” he glances at you, and you look at him with wide eyes. I knew I smelled magic.

“You’re like Hob?” you supposed that made sense. After all, the professor did give you the same kind of tingly feeling on your magic-dar. Maybe not as intense, but still equitable. You slow to a stop in front of your door.

“Yes.” His chin tilts slightly, exposing some of the skin under his jaw. It’s smooth, nearly as white as snow. He looks down at you, pillowy lashes fluttering against his skin, pink lips curving into a smile. You return it tenfold, the butterflies in your stomach thrashing violently. “And what are you like?” he steps closer. You can feel his breath in your hair, and your nose is tingling so much it could be on fire.

“I- um. I’m nothing.” Yikes. You stifle a groan. Real convincing. Fingers stroke down your cheek to grasp your jaw, tilting your head up towards where his lips hover just above yours.

“I believe you are more than nothing, witchling.” Stunned, you sputter, and then he’s pressing his lips to yours, face cradled between his hands. Your eyes fly open with shock, and then close just as fast, melting into the kiss. It’s fervent, and he breathes in your whimper as he parts your lips with his tongue.

By the time you make up the stairs, he’s already peeled both jackets, your shirt and pants off you, while also losing his own pants, his shirt, and his shoes. He bends you over the bed, your back arched, his fingers slipping across your ribcage and beneath your thong, dipping into the wetness that waits for his touch. You stare up at him nearly dumbfounded. He’s porcelain, flawless, chiseled like a perfect piece of marble.

“Fuck.” You hiss, and your cunt clenches around the finger that thrusts into you. He plays you perfectly, like a lover you’ve held forever, like a musician and his favorite instrument.

“You are ready.” His mouth murmurs against the dampening hair against above your ear. You make a noise in your throat that sounds like yes, hands pulling at him. He folds your thighs apart, moving your knees towards your chest, opening you up for him to take, to own. Your magic flutters in your chest, reaching for him, for whatever it is that crawls under his skin. His hand pins one of your wrists above your head, and he stops for a moment, holding himself still. Something flickers across his face as he peers down at you. A hint of sadness. A whisper of longing. As soon as it comes, it goes, and his teeth nip into the curve of your jaw, before he’s thrusting into you, filling you to the hilt, grinding himself into the heat of your cunt.

“Oh my god.” you choke, your spine curving as your body reacts to being stuffed full of magical cock.

“I am no god, little one.” He says from above you, voice proud, eyes glinting in the dark. His mouth sweeps across yours softly for a brief moment, and then he begins to fuck you. Hard.

He fucks like a god, though. His fingers stroke your clit as he plunges his cock into your cunt over and over, your body trembling as you rocket towards your orgasm, your magic bubbling over inside of you, a celestial high filling your body with the power of a nova. Your skin erupts with light as you come, shining like a star in the night. He rears back, holding your hips firm with one hand, the other still stroking your too sensitive clit.

“My eyes have seen many things, witchling. But a woman glowing beneath me as she comes on my cock is certainly new.” You shudder.

He shifts your body, thrusting deeper, pushing his cock against your cervix, and you cry out into his neck, tongue tasting the silk of his skin. He moves inside of you frantically, muscles hard against the softness of your body. “Where?” he grits out, and the image of him filling you with his come flashes in your mind. Your walls clench, and he mutters a curse in another language.

“Inside me. You can you come inside me. I have a IUD.” You whisper, fingers tightening in his hair. He pounds into your cunt relentlessly until he’s gasping, mouth formed into a small O as he hovers above you, flooding you with his warmth.

You heave a sigh as he pulls out, lips skating down from your mouth to hover just above your cunt, long white fingers splayed across your lower belly.

“Be still. I wish to know the taste of myself as it spills out of you.” You don’t even get a word out before you feel his lips against you folds, tongue plunging inside of you, swirling where he’s mixed with you. He moans, sucking and flicking his tongue until he’s bringing you to another blinding orgasm.

It’s the creak in the floorboard that wakes you.

“Morpheus?” you call out to the dark, hand stretching across the bed. It’s empty. You frown as you leave your room, pulling on a too big sweater and flicking on the hall light. “Morpheus?” you call again. Maybe he left? It wouldn’t be the first time someone fucked you and then left in the middle of the night. Your nose tingles in the direction of the study.

When you open the door, your jaw drops.

Morpheus stands in the middle of the room, your family’s book of shadows in one hand. Your family’s precious, ancient, secret grimoire. The spell book that was written by your ancestors, was inherited by you, that was bound with your blood for its protection.

“What are you doing with that?” you ask. How did he find it? When he looks up at you, you’re surprised to see his eyes clouded and cold. His other hand holds a leather pouch. “Morpheus.” You call his name, and your feet hesitate on the threshold of the room.

“Were you aware there are spells in here that can imprison an Endless?”

“What? No. What is an Endless?” You reach for his arm. “Morpheus, what-“

“Do not touch me.” You step backwards, reeling from the rejection, and shocked at the feel of the pure power pulsing from him. “I was once imprisoned by such a spell.”

“What? My family would never imprison someone.” You protest. He scoffs.

“You are all the same.” What? Who is ‘you’? You motion to the book, hands shaking.

“Morpheus. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I need that back. It’s my family’s. It’s mine. It’s enchanted with my blood, I can’t-“ your voice falls away when he opens his coat, sliding the grimoire inside. You notice immediately the inside of his coat is not a coat at all, but a galaxy. A night sky, shining with stars. You startle, reaching out to grab for the book when his fingers curl around your wrist, squeezing. It doesn’t hurt, but you hiss anyway.

“Stop!” you shriek, and he uses your arm to push you away from him before releasing you.

“I thank you for making this easier than I anticipated, witch.” Witch. The word slaps you across the face. The trauma of your early years falls over you with ease, the teasing, the taunting, the pain. The insults and physical violence that was applied to you so liberally casts a shadow over your youth that you still live in, to this day.

“Easier than you anticipated?” you ask him, the desperation of the confusion you feel bleeding into your voice. “Wait.” Pieces start to click together one by one as you solve the puzzle. “You planned this?” He leers at you, giving no response, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a face so thunderous. You watch as he reaches into the pouch, pinching something between his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly, there’s a tornado of sand in the study, whirling at his feet, slowly evaporating him, and the book, into thin air. “NO!” you scream, running towards where he was once standing, but it’s useless. He’s gone, and it’s gone with him, just like that. You slump on the floor, the burning ache inside of you sizzling alive at the loss of the spell book. It incinerates your bones, traveling through your body as you scream into the carpet. The enchantment sears your flesh, the skin on your arms and hands melting away as if you were halfway inside a furnace. You collapse completely, face falling into the floor, body writhing in pain. Above the scorching ache, something else rings true. He planned this. You sob loudly. He used you. Your mind grows hazy, and all you can see as you drift off into unconsciousness is the image of his face, filled with unadulterated rage.

I write some other stuff here.

#morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #peaches writes #one shot

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