I love being a fangirl and writing fanfiction because yes that’s OUR man. Yes, we SHARE a boyfriend. We have a communal love interest and i appreciate the sense of community it brings.
Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman
Summary: in your mid 30’s you never imagined you’d be divorced. To help with the healing process you decide to return to your first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody who’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.
Warnings: NSFW! 18+, swearing mention of sexual words, consensual sex, penetration, cheating, sexually themed. IT’S ALL ABOUT REVERSE AGE GAP HERE. Older woman with a younger man. They are both adults, don’t be judgemental.
Disclaimer: I don’t mean any offense to Mr. Leclerc.
English isn’t my first language so all mistakes are my own.
All the previous chapters are here
Charles POV:
Charles watches you leave for the briefing, your back straight, your steps brisk. He's stuck in place, his jaw tight, his mind churning with guilt and determination. It’s not supposed to be this way, he thinks. He had dragged you into his world—one that’s all speed, noise, and constant scrutiny—without considering the consequences.
But he couldn’t deny what he felt, even if the timing was terrible. Seeing you with your guarded eyes and sharp wit had been a breath of fresh air. You were different from everyone else in the paddock: you saw beyond the shiny facade and asked him questions that cut straight to the heart. It’s no wonder he was hooked from the start.
The problem was the mess he created. He had been careless. Bringing his girlfriend to that party after things had gotten intense between the two of you was reckless and cruel. It wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all to you. Now he’s left with the fallout: a tangled mess of desire, regret, and a desperate need to fix things.
As the media commitments continue, Charles finds himself half-listening to questions, his focus elsewhere. Every time you enter his line of sight, there’s a tug at his chest. He’s reminded of the stolen moments you’ve shared, both fiery and tender, and how they’ve been tainted by his mistakes.
When there’s a brief pause in the chaos, he seizes the chance to corner you in a quiet alcove of the paddock. You look wary as he approaches, arms crossed as if to shield yourself from whatever he might say.
“I need to talk to you,” he starts, his voice low but urgent.
“Now?” You raise an eyebrow, not backing down. “I’m trying to do my job, Charles.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I need you to hear me out, please.”
You glance around, making sure no one is watching. “This better be good.”
He lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “I screwed up. I know that. I never meant for you to get hurt, but I can’t change what happened.”
“Then what’s the point of this conversation?” you ask, your tone icy.
“I want you to understand why I pushed for this role for you. It wasn’t just for me—it was because I believe in you, in your talent. You deserve this opportunity.”
“You can’t just manipulate my career because you feel guilty,” you snap, eyes blazing. “This isn’t some twisted form of compensation, Charles.”
“It’s not about guilt,” he insists, taking a step closer. “It’s about what’s real between us. I know it’s a mess, but I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”
There it is, raw and exposed. He watches you process his words, your defenses visibly wavering for a moment before snapping back into place.
“Caring isn’t enough,” you say quietly. “I need to protect myself, and I can’t do that if I’m constantly trying to decipher your feelings or your motives.”
He feels a pang of helplessness, a sense that he’s losing you before he ever truly had you. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admits, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I have no right to ask for another chance, but I’m asking anyway.”
You take a deep breath, looking conflicted. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Charles. Not after everything.”
The vulnerability in your eyes is like a punch to his gut. He reaches out, but you instinctively pull back, as if afraid to let him get too close.
“I get it,” he says softly, dropping his hand. “But I won’t give up. Not on you, not on us—whatever ‘us’ even means right now.”
“Why does this matter so much to you?” you demand, voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness.
“Because you matter to me,” he answers simply. “And I know I’m not good at this—I mess things up, and I’m scared as hell of making it worse. But I want to try, if you’ll let me.”
There’s a long silence, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. He waits, hoping you’ll find a way to meet him halfway. But as you look at him, he sees the walls you’ve built and knows it’ll take more than words to break them down.
“Right now,” you finally say, your voice steady, “I just need space to figure things out. If you really care, you’ll respect that.”
It’s not the answer he wants, but it’s something. He nods slowly, accepting your terms even as it tears at him.
“Okay,” he agrees. “But I’m not giving up. Not yet.”
You don’t respond, your eyes lingering on him for a second longer before you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the narrow corridor. The weight of his mistakes hangs heavy, but for the first time, he feels a glimmer of hope. It’s fragile and uncertain, but it’s there.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough—for now.
Later at Y/N’s hotel room.
You toss and turn in bed, sleep eluding you. You replay the heated conversation with Charles in your head, dissecting every word, every emotion. You feel trapped between two opposing desires: the need to protect your heart and the undeniable pull he has on you. By the time dawn breaks, you’re no closer to a decision.
“Ugh,” you groan into your pillow, realizing that in just a few hours you’ll have to face him again.
The morning sun streams through the curtains of your hotel room, reminding you that it’s already practice day. You gather your things, determined to maintain your professionalism despite the swirling emotions inside. You quickly get dressed and head to the paddock, hoping that the chaos of race weekend will distract you.
The paddock is buzzing with activity as you arrive. Engines roar, media scramble for interviews, and teams rush around in a flurry of preparation. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead.
Charles is already at the Ferrari garage, his focus seemingly on the upcoming session. You try to keep your distance, but as the team starts gathering for a quick briefing, you have no choice but to join him.
“Morning,” he greets, his voice casual but his eyes searching yours.
“Morning,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.
There’s a moment of awkward silence as the rest of the team begins discussing logistics. You scribble notes furiously, trying to keep your mind from wandering to the way his jaw tenses when he concentrates, or the faint stubble lining his chin.
During the session, you’re forced to work side by side, monitoring media requests and planning interviews. The close proximity makes your skin tingle, but you do your best to stay focused. At one point, Charles leans closer to look at the list on your tablet, his arm brushing against yours.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice—something that makes your breath hitch.
“It’s fine,” you manage to say, though your voice is tighter than you’d like.
Just as things start to feel overwhelmingly intense, Carlos Sainz appears, grinning like he’s in on a private joke.
“Hola, Y/N!” he exclaims, his energy infectious. “You seem stressed. Charles giving you a hard time, huh?”
You laugh, relieved for the distraction. “He’s always a handful.”
Carlos chuckles, playfully nudging Charles with his elbow. “Don’t worry. I can be your new assistant if he gets too annoying. I make excellent coffee, you know.”
Charles shoots Carlos a look, trying to play it off, but you see the tension in his posture. He’s not used to seeing you this relaxed with someone else, and it clearly bothers him.
“Careful, Carlos,” Charles warns with a smirk, though his eyes flash with something darker. “She might actually take you up on that.”
“Oh, really?” you tease, enjoying the game. “Maybe I will. I could use someone more reliable.”
Carlos laughs loudly, enjoying the banter. “I am always at your service, Y/N. Anything to make Charles squirm a little.”
It’s meant to be a lighthearted jab, but it has a different effect. You see Charles’s jaw clench, his gaze narrowing as he watches the interaction between you and Carlos. He’s not amused anymore—he’s irritated, maybe even jealous.
As the conversation continues, Carlos’s playful demeanor makes you feel seen in a way that doesn’t involve the heavy tension you’ve had with Charles. For a moment, you let yourself forget the drama, laughing at Carlos’s jokes and enjoying the easy chemistry.
But then you catch Charles’s gaze, and the intensity in his eyes nearly takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s silently telling you that this playful game with Carlos isn’t going to change anything between you and him. You feel a rush of heat at the thought, a reminder of the magnetic pull you’ve been trying to resist.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur. Charles is distant but focused, and you sense a simmering frustration beneath his calm exterior. You wonder if he’s regretting pushing you into this role, or if he’s more determined than ever to keep you close.
As the day winds down, you retreat to your hotel room, hoping for a moment of clarity. But all you feel is confusion. Your body hums with the memory of Charles’s touch, your mind replaying the way he looked at you earlier—like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or fight you.
You’re just starting to unwind when there’s a knock at your door.
Your heart leaps, and you instinctively know who it is.
Jessie Ware · Tough Love (Deluxe) · Song · 2014
You pause at the door, your hand hovering above the handle. You know who’s on the other side, and the weight of the moment makes your breath catch. When you finally gather the courage to open it, Charles stands there, the dim lighting from the hallway casting shadows on his face.
His expression is conflicted—equal parts desire and hesitation. “Can I come in?” he asks softly, his voice almost uncertain for the first time.
You nod silently, stepping aside to let him in. The room feels charged, the air thick with unspoken words. As he steps closer, you see the storm of emotions swirling in his eyes. You can’t hold back any longer; whatever this is, it’s real and it’s right here in front of you.
“I tried to stay away,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “But I can’t. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
You swallow hard, the vulnerability in his words breaking down the last of your defenses. “I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, voice shaky.
“Then let’s figure it out together,” he says, his gaze intense as he takes your hand, slowly pulling you closer.
There’s a moment of stillness before he dips his head, his lips brushing softly against yours. It’s tentative at first, as if he’s testing your response. But the second you kiss him back, something snaps—like a dam breaking, releasing a flood of suppressed longing. His kiss deepens, urgent yet tender, as if he’s trying to convey everything he can’t say in words.
His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and the tenderness of the gesture makes your heart swell. You can feel his need for you, but it’s laced with a kind of reverence that makes your body shiver. You respond in kind, letting your hands find their way to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your palms.
Charles’s lips trail down to your neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, the words raw and reverent.
The world outside ceases to exist. All that matters is the warmth of his touch, the way he seems to worship every part of you with his mouth and hands. His fingers are gentle, tracing your skin as if he’s savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips.
He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed as if you’re something precious. When he lays you down, there’s a moment where he just looks at you, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise.
You undress each other. Words are replaced by caresses and kisses. This is not just sex, this is intimacy.
“I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with need but tinged with a softness that takes you by surprise.
And he does. He’s slow, deliberate, taking his time to explore you with a kind of devotion you’ve never felt before. His mouth trails down your body, and every kiss, every touch, feels like a silent vow. He’s attentive, reading every gasp, every arch of your back, as he finds the rhythm that makes you tremble beneath him.
You're still tense, you know this isn't just sex, and you don't want to let go.
“Let go,” he urges, his voice low and coaxing as he moves in a way that’s both commanding and tender. “I want this for you.”
And you do. You let yourself fall into the moment, giving in to the waves of pleasure that crash over you, raw and overwhelming. Charles watches you with an intensity that makes you feel cherished, his eyes locked on yours even as you lose yourself completely.
The way his tongue plays with your nipples, the way his fingers caress your clit. It's all designed to give you pleasure. Maybe he's not thinking about it, maybe he's acting on instinct, you can't figure it out right now.
When he finally takes you fully, it’s slow and gentle at first, as if he’s savoring every second. He’s careful, almost reverent, but as the tension builds, the urgency grows. His thrusts become more insistent, matching the rising heat between you. You meet each other in a perfect rhythm, bodies moving together in a way that feels both primal and achingly intimate.
He is also vulnerable now, he is not thinking about himself, he is thinking about giving you pleasure, seeing and feeling the way your body responds, fills him with pleasure too.
He whispers your name like a prayer, his voice husky and filled with desire. “I don’t want this to end,” he admits between ragged breaths, his forehead pressed against yours.
You cling to him, the intensity of the moment making your heart feel raw. “Then don’t,” you whisper back, your voice filled with emotion.
It’s a feverish kind of passion, but beneath it all, there’s a softness, a tenderness that wraps around you like a warm embrace. It’s not just about the physical—it’s about something deeper, something that’s been simmering between you for too long.
You moan his name as he brings you to climax. The feeling of your orgasms around him and the way you moan his name brings him to climax as well. He doesn't take his eyes off of you as he finishes. The connection.
He kisses your neck after a few moments of sliding out of you. He goes to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. You're staring at the ceiling savoring the pleasure.
When he comes back, you lie together, tangled in sheets and each other’s warmth. Charles’s fingers trace patterns on your skin, his breath still uneven. You’re both quiet, the silence filled with a kind of contentment you hadn’t expected.
But you know he can’t stay. It’s clear in the way he holds you a little tighter, as if trying to imprint the memory of this moment before reality intrudes.
“Stay,” you whisper, the word slipping out before you can stop it.
He lifts his head, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. “I wish I could,” he says honestly, regret etched in his voice. “But I have to be up early.”
The thought of him leaving makes your chest tighten, but you nod, understanding. He carefully untangles himself from you, pulling on his clothes with quiet efficiency. Before he leaves, he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair.
“I’m not walking away,” he promises, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll figure this out.”
You manage a small smile, your heart aching even as hope flares. “I know.”
He leans down for one last kiss, soft and lingering, as if he’s trying to hold onto this moment for as long as he can. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers against your lips.
Then he’s gone, the door clicking softly behind him. You’re left lying in the dark, feeling a mix of fulfillment and longing that you can’t quite put into words. It’s the start of something, but what that ‘something’ is, you’re not sure yet.
All you know is that you’re willing to find out.
P.S: I'd love your here your feedback! Or if you have any suggestions. I had a bit of a emotional brake downwriting that last part. And please! Oh please listen to that song in the story. Love ya!
Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman
Summary: in your mid 30’s you never imagined you’d be divorced. To help with the healing process you decide to return to your first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody who’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.
Warnings: NSFW! 18+, swearing mention of sexual words, consensual sex, penetration, cheating, sexually themed. IT’S ALL ABOUT REVERSE AGE GAP HERE. Older woman with a younger man. They are both adults, don’t be judgemental.
Disclaimer:
I don’t mean any offense to Mr. Leclerc.
English isn’t my first language so all mistakes are my own. My Italian is basic so be gentle, please.
All the previous chapters are here
The sound of your cell phone wakes you up the next morning. You turn towards the nightstand and pick up the phone without looking.
"Hello?" You answer with a sleepy voice.
"Do you want to tell me what this email I'm reading?" Your agent's voice speaks on the other end of the line.
You barely open your eyes. "It's pretty clear," you answer, trying to adjust your vision to the morning sun that barely enters through your bedroom window.
"Do you want to end your contract with Ferrari?!" she asks. You can hear the sound of cars in the background.
"Yes" you answer dryly.
"Why the hell do you want to do that?!" Your agent sounds agitated about the topic.
“I…” you try to sit up on the bed. You know that if you are not honest with her, she will never understand why you want to stay away from Ferrari. "I have an affair with Charles Leclerc and I'm not able to handle it," you answer, almost whispering.
The silence on the other end of the line is worse than yelling at you.
"Hello?" You repeat, rubbing your eyes.
"I'll see you in the office in 1 hour. If I'm going to do this, you’d buy me coffeeat least" she answers on the other side.
An hour later, you're walking up the stairs to your agent's office in central London.
You can almost hear her lecturing you about being professional in your work.
You let your agent know what happened. Her reaction ranges from anger, to surprise, to understanding you as a woman.
"I'm going to talk to Ferrari's agent. It's not easy to get out of a contract like that. But you have to show up for the restart of the season, otherwise it would be a breach of the contract, at least until I can pass on my proposal to them, okay?" " she tells you as she plays with the pencil on the desk and drinks the Starbucks coffee you bought her.
You don't want to, you don't like it and you don't feel like doing it. But there you will go again, into the den of the wolf again.
What motivates you the most is that you don't know Baku, so from now on everything will be work and if possible, get to know a new city. Which is what you're really going to miss about working with Ferrari.
You have everything planned scientifically. Your agent will release you from this contract and you will be able to return to your studio to create your art in peace.
Just one more time.
Baku shows you right away that it is the capital city of the modern world. Maybe you wouldn't have seen places like these if it weren't for F1.
Everyone on the team has renewed energy after the mini vacation. But you are not.
From the moment you check in at the hotel you are alert. Or ready to avoid all contact with a certain driver.
The first day on the circuit, when you arrive at the hospitality area, you receive a video call from your agent.
"I'm afraid I don't have good news for you," she says as soon as you answer the call.
You walk outside the Ferrari hospitality area while talking. "What are you talking about?" You answer her, already agitated, fearing the worst.
"Ferrari is not willing to terminate your contract" she tells you with a strange smile on her face.
"That's funny?! Why can't I end my contract with them?! I'm just another designer" you try not to raise your voice but you're flustered.
Your agent's smile is bigger now. "They actually offer you a promotion, and from what I'm seeing it has already been made effective."
Your heart stops for a few seconds. "What?! Effective promotion?!"
"You are now Charles Leclerc's PR agent, dear." Your agent laughs openly.
She tells you that out of the corner of your eye you can see the movement of photographers and cameras at the entrance to the hospitality area. That means a driver is making the entrance.
You move out of the way, holding your breath, hoping it's not him. "What the hell?! Why?! How?!" You spoke to your phone screen in complete shock while walking through the group of people.
"Apparently he asked for you." the voice on the other end of the call tells you.
This can not be. It's the only thing you can think about while you hold your phone with your mouth open and ignoring what's going on around you.
"Be careful what you let into that open mouth," someone tells you from the middle of the group of people.
Of course it's him. With his big smile and his winning attitude. And continue walking towards the hospitality area.
You want to kill him.
You just sigh and close your mouth. You put on your best smile of commitment and walk away.
What follows is an open discussion between you and your agent about the topic. She explains why you can't get out of the contract, you tell her why you won't accept it, she tells you again why not and why you shouldn't do it. Then follows another long sermon about how good this is for you professionally.
Again.You want to kill him.
You don't understand why, how and what he wants from you.
Your agent convinces you after half an hour of your arguments and tantrums.
You just sit on the floor between the giant equipment trailers trying to prepare yourself for this.
In minutes you'd have been in front of your new boss to start working at Team Leclerc.
You are completely stubborn and you are not going to let it affect you. IF he wants you to be the person who is stuck to him throughout the season, that's how it will be. And you will be the most professional person in the world.
This is your plan, it is decided. Whatever he wants with this. He's not going to make it.
It takes you more than 1 hour to introduce yourself to your new superior and get up to speed on your new tasks. The questions from your colleagues do not wait. About how and why you were promoted. Silvia Hoffer, your new direct boss, is an experienced person and surely smells something of what is happening. But she doesn't tell you anything, she just tells you what you should do and she makes it clear that "this is a test, if it doesn't work for us, we can let you go."
Only she knows what she means by "make this work." But you're as stubborn as Charles, and you won't let whatever her reason for doing this ruin your resume.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you step into the bustling Ferrari hospitality area. The adrenaline from the chaotic morning lingers, and you can’t shake the image of Charles from your mind. He’s a magnet, and somehow, you’re drawn to him even when you want to run in the opposite direction.
As you navigate through the sea of team members and journalists, you catch a glimpse of him across the room. He’s laughing with a couple of reporters, his charisma radiating like sunlight. You can’t help but feel a twinge of longing mixed with annoyance. Why did he have to complicate things?
Silvia appears beside you, breaking your thoughts. “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually. Remember, professionalism.”
“Right,” you murmur, forcing a smile. “Professionalism.”
“Let’s start with a plan,” she suggests, her tone businesslike. “We need to establish clear boundaries.”
You nod, trying to focus. “Okay, I can do that.”
“Good. And just so you know, the media is going to love this. They’ll eat it up.” She glances over at Charles, who’s just spotted you. “Looks like it’s time for your first introduction.”
Your heart races as he strides over, that effortless confidence in every step. He stops in front of you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, look who it is. My new PR agent.”
“Don’t get too excited,” you retort, crossing your arms. “I’m not your personal cheerleader.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks, his gaze steady on yours. “Just think of me as your biggest project.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Let’s just stick to the work, shall we?”
“Of course,” he replies, a teasing lilt in his voice. “But I hope you’re ready for a little chaos. F1 isn’t exactly quiet.”
“I thrive in chaos,” you reply, matching his playful tone. Inside, however, you’re a bundle of nerves. This is going to be a test of your patience—and your heart.
As the day progresses, you find yourself following him around the paddock, taking notes on interviews and media obligations. Despite your best intentions to stay professional, there’s a chemistry that crackles in the air, leaving you breathless.
During a break, you find a quiet corner to gather your thoughts. You pull out your sketchbook, a habit from your days of digital illustration. Drawing was your escape, your solace. But today, even that isn’t enough to ease the tension.
“Hard work?” Charles’s voice interrupts, and you look up to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“Just… organising my thoughts,” you say, trying to sound casual.
He steps closer, glancing at your sketches. “You’re really talented, you know?.”
“Thanks,” you reply, suddenly feeling shy. “It’s just a hobby—was just a hobby.” You set the pencil down, meeting his gaze. “But now I guess it’s part of my job.”
He tilts his head, studying you. “You seem conflicted about all this.”
“I didn’t want this role, Charles. I’m not sure I can handle it, especially with… everything.”
He hesitates, the playful spark dimming. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know it’s complicated.”
“Complicated is an understatement,” you say, frustration bubbling up. “I’m trying to get my life back on track, or was trying to get my life back on track, and being around you makes that difficult.”
“I get that,” he says softly, stepping even closer. “But maybe this is a chance for both of us. To redefine things. To… figure it out.”
Your heart races as you look into his eyes, seeing a sincerity that makes you want to trust him. But your walls are high, fortified by past hurts. “I can’t just jump back into… whatever this is.”You look around, clearly this isn't a subject to be talking around people.
“I’m not asking you to,” he replies, his voice low. “Just take it one step at a time. We can keep things professional, but I can’t help the way I feel about you.”
Feel about you. He said that you did not imagine it.
You swallow hard, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “It’s not that simple, Charles.”
He takes a breath, looking momentarily pained. “I know. But I’ll be here, whether you want me to be or not.”
Before you can respond, Silvia appears, breaking the moment. “Y/N, we need you for the next briefing,” she says, oblivious to the tension.
You nod, glancing back at Charles, who offers a small, encouraging smile. As you turn away, you feel the weight of the decision hanging over you. Maybe you’re not ready to dive back into love (or whatever this is), but with Charles, it seems like you’ll be navigating a whole new kind of chaos.
You take a deep breath and head towards the briefing, determined to keep your focus on the work, even if your heart has other plans.
PS: I'll post the next chapter tomorrow! It's Charles POV. Thank you for waiting on me!
Summary: Your job is to distract and read all who dare to go against Cassandra. And you take pride in your work
Word count: 2.5 K
Pairing: Deadpool x Reader; Wolverine x Reader; Johnny Storm x Reader; Deadpool x Wolverine x Johnny Storm x Empath Reader
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT Not Beta’d. DEADPOOL X WOLVERINE SPOILERS AHEAD of this line!Read at your own risk. S MUT! Morally Grey reader, sex worker reader, reader is an empath, lots of dark emotions, group sex, oral (m & f receiving) pansexual touch and intentions (it's Deadpool, folks) explicit sex acts, raw p in v (wrap it up), anal sex (f receiving) rough sex, dvp, squirting, copius amounts of cum, bukakke, after care. Reader has pet names from each hero: Sweets, Sweetie, Sweetheart.
A/N: Ok. I had to do it. If you inspired this, you know who you are, you menace. 😘 This occurs within an imagined scene between the scene where Pyro captures Johnny, Wade and Logan and when they were delivered to Cassandra Nova. This is pure filth. Let me know you like it by liking, commenting and reblogging!
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
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“Let me put your hair up for you. So pretty.”
Wade Wilson cooed down at you to the music of his shackles clinking as he gently pulled your cloud of hair up and out of the way.
“Need to have a clear view of you hoovering that anaconda.”
Your lips were stretched around Johnny Storm’s thick, tan cock as his blue eyes stared down at you and a steam of eloquent pornography flowed from his lips.
“Mm. That throat is so gatdamn tight Sweetheart. Can’t wait to fuck that tight little wet gash of yours. Holy shit, that’s good. I know you can take it deeper. I know you can. Such a sweet little innocent slut for us.”
He had no idea. You were in service to Cassandra. She called you her muse, a tool to service her future victims so that when she felt their minds up, she had something more to get off on. You were her little slut, her psychic empath who fed off of other’s joy and you loved your job.
Giving others joy got you off something fierce. The fact that Cassandra loved it and that kept you alive was an added bonus.
Johnny’s hand snaked around the back of your neck to encourage you to take more of him. You looked up at him, eyes wide with tears streaming down your cheeks, while saliva escaped from your stretched-out lips.
“So pretty for us like this, Sweetie.”
Wade’s mask almost seemed to be emotive as he looked down on you, his long fingers fisting his cock with increasing speed as he watched you take Johnny down. It was disconcerting that he was completely naked except for his mask, but that was none of your business. He was sincere, despite the sarcastic monologue.
“I’ve always wanted to say that in real life and not just in my 1D/Destial crossover fanfics on Tumblr. Username is MrsLarryDestiel (no spaces) if you want to follow.”
Wade was leaning over to Johnny, who had steam rising from his head as he gazed down at you with devotion. You felt his amusement at this entire scenario. You tried to smile back around him, even though you knew his affection was only due to your skill.
After all, you’d just met him less than an hour earlier.
“Get your hand off my ass before I burn it off, Wade.”
“Was just trying to help you push it in her tiny little mouth. Wasn’t trying to cop a feel of what looks a lot like America’s Ass, not really,” quipped Wade who was stroking and looking down at Johnny’s derriere.
Before anyone got injured, you pulled off of the hot one’s dick and licked Wade’s thick plum shaped tip.
“Sssss. Ahhhh, yes!”
Wade groaned and threw his head back.
“Suck that dick like your life depends on it, Sweetie. It may be our very last night on earth. I mean, in the void.”
You sensed no fear in Wade, only irreverence.
You followed his direction and opened wide as he slid his long, thick, Deadpool dick along your outstretched tongue. Wade was still talking, of course, even as he made eyes at Logan, who was lurking on the edges of the light, pulling on his dick with two hands and making low, almost indiscernible grunts.
Now there were about a thousand different emotions coming off him, irritation, rage, despair, grief, a deep sadness, and foremost right now, need and frustration. You tried to watch him through your tear-filled eyes.
Wade and Johnny took turns with your mouth as Logan just moved nearer, his large, impressive cock raging against those impossible abs. His stare, and his body, made you drip even more in the dirt floor of the cave they were captive in for the night.
You needed him inside you, to at least extinguish his need. But yours was growing too.
“Why don’t you relax over there while we get her ready, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Little Miss Triple Threat looks like she’s almost ready to take three cocks at once in all of her holes.”
The Wolverine grunted, but went to a spot just a few feet away and reclined against a cave wall as he continued to handle himself.
Wade looked down at you and stroked your hair again, stage whispering to you as you deep throated Johnny’s cock down your throat.
“I know he seems like a party pooper and not down for this at all, but the fact that his beautiful meat is hard and leaking precum, which is delicious, bee tee dubs, oh, AND HE'S NAKED, means he definitely is.”
You smiled around the dick in your mouth and nodded as you pulled off Johnny, a string of saliva connecting you three as Wade grabbed you by the hair and plunged down your throat, barely giving you time to take a breath.
As you choked, you could see Logan jacking off faster from the corner of your eye as you swallowed Wade whole. Even with the mask, you could tell when his eyes rolled back into his head as you took every single inch.
“Get over here and sit on my dick.”
You were surprised at Logan’s voice, not having heard much of it during his ride in the cage, except to tell Wade and Johnny to shut up. Currently, his tone was more intense and raspy with desire.
You did as you were told and the action moved from the fireside to where Logan was reclining.
“Move the fuck around, asshole.”
Wade stomped his foot.
“That’s what I’m trying to give you, Wolvie, baby.”
But he moved from in front of you so that you could take your throne.
“C’mere.”
Logan reached up for you, the tender gesture a contrast for the crude situation you are in: fucking these men because it was the last night of their lives, which it almost surely was. You knew when Pyro let you into the cave halfway to her lair where they stopped for the night that no one escaped Cassandra.
You almost felt sorry for them. But when you read their emotions, you sensed no fear in these heroes. Only a myriad of other things including pent up tension, stress and desire for you. And for freedom. Or at least the sensation of being free.
Fucking all three of them would free your own soul, if only for the short time you would spend with them. They were all fine, and they looked like they would be a good time. If they only knew that your purpose was distraction, to keep them busy and not trying to escape.
If you searched their emotions hard enough you might find that they knew what you were about, and that they didn't care.
You accepted the offer of Logan’s hands and settled on his muscular thighs, glancing at the other men stroking themselves by firelight to the sight of you stretching yourself around the thick head of Logan Howlett, the Wolverine’s, cock.
Their attention only made you wetter and you slid further down Logan’s thick staff than you thought you could. When Johnny and Wade each grabbed a nipple as you whined and got even slicker the sensations allowed you to encase that extra inch at the base of him.
You were so full, not having been stretched like this in a while with a human, visually pleasing partner in a long time. You moaned in pleasure and closed your eyes, biting your lip at the delicious sting of taking him.
Logan looked up into your eyes and then commanded you with that deep, sexy voice.
“Open your eyes, look at us, and bounce on this cock Sweets.”
The smack on your ass spurred you on as Johnny leaned against the wall, watching your tits bounce as he jacked himself, and Wade got behind you, straddling Logan's thighs and rubbing them. You thought you knew what was coming next as you felt Wade’s hot breath on your shoulder as his hard length slid through your slick folds. But you were surprised as he entered you, although not in the hole you expected.
Within a few seconds, Wade was nestled deep within your cunt, cock alongside Logan’s in your snug sleeve, making you mad with pleasure. An obscene groan from you accompanied Logan’s warning to Deadpool.
“Watch it fuck face.”
Loan’s voice was husky, and there was a glimmer of a smirk as he grasped your breasts, roughly pulling on your nipples. Fear of his claws coming out and injuring you caused the contractions of pleasure in your belly to quicken, even as Wade sassed him back.
“You can fuck my face later buddy. Right now, let’s both concentrate on fucking this beautiful, nice, accommodating lady’s beautiful, nice accommodating cunt..”
The two men fell into an oddly synchronistic, sinful rhythm, both of them filling you to the brim in the best way possible, sexy groans finally replacing the smart words coming from Wade and literal grunts and groans coming from Logan.
Johnny moved, filling your mouth and causing your moans to vibrate around his shaft as Logan and Wade fucked you stupid.
“Holy fuck!”
Johnny rasped as you started sucking his balls, your legs shaking as Logan and Wade pounded you into oblivion. You feel a tremendous pressure and you tried to run from what was coming, but Wade’s fingers were circling your clit and Logan’s hands are around your waist, his mouth latched onto your left nipple. That and the feeling of Johnny’s fingers massaging your scalp collided to make your impending doom come much more quickly.
“Holy shit, she's gushing like Old Faithful all around us!”
You soaked Logan as you squirted, seemingly never endingly, all over. everywhere. Wade slipped out of you and so did Logan, but instead of giving someone else a turn with your pussy, Logan growled in your hair and pitched you forward onto his chest with his hands underneath your thighs.
“Want that ass.”
You clenched around nothing as Logan lifted you up and squeezed your ass cheek in order to give his hard, thick cock access to your puckered hole. You were so wet that he kept slipping around until you felt Wade reach in and grab Logan’s dick, pumping it a couple of times before guiding it home inside your tight ass.
You saw the sneer, and you heard the ‘schnick’ of Logan’s claws coming out and Wade’s giggle as he explained.
“Just trying to help with the mission, Boss.”
You didn’t care about any of it as your head lolled back on your shoulders because Logan was filling you up deliciously.
Wade retreated and pulled his mask up to lick his fingers. He and Johnny resumed stroking as they watched Logan pounding you mercilessly from below, your cum making it embarrassingly easy. You locked eyes with him, and grabbed the tufts on top of his hair for purchase as you screamed and came again, just from his cock in your ass.
"Ahhhhh! Shittttt!"
“Mmmmnhhh! Incoming, Sweets”
Logan’s cum spurted inside you and began to leak out around his cock, making you even messier than before.
“Ugh. Fuck. So good.”
He kissed your forehead as he softened inside you, then lifted your thigh to slide out from underneath you. You braced yourself on the wall as you tried to catch your breath and savored the feeling of him dripping down your legs and the peace, if only momentary, emanating from his soul. You didn’t realize that your eyes were closed until you felt a new desperation accompanied by a hand on your arm and two hands on your ass.
“Don’t usually go for sloppy seconds, but I’ll take it tonight.”
Johnny’s sparkling blue eyes and sincerity held you captive. His tender kiss on your lips distracted you as you felt Wade’s hands on your ass and you lowered yourself down around Johnny’s long cock.
Johnny slipped easily inside you because Wade and Logan had stretched you out, but he was so hot, literally, that you quickly clenched down on him. Your hands caressed his shoulders and trailed down his sternum and his happy trail to where you were connected.
The way he looked at you from under his long eyelashes made you want to give him a show. You bit your lip and circled your clit, earning a groan and an appreciative stare from him as you started to ride.
You sensed a sudden a wave of mischievousness from Wade and felt his tongue in our ass. He moaned, sending vibrations up your spine as he caused you to clench around his wet muscle and Johnny’s cock. He slurped you up, and pulled away momentarily to come up and whisper in your ear.
“Mmmm. You and Logan taste so good. You’re doing amazing, Sweetie.
He was down again and licking you clean, causing irritation to emanate from Johnny.
“I’m tryna cum, here, Wilson. Stop licking my balls, you jerkoff.”
Wade came up and wiped his mouth.
“So sorry, that was a total mistake. Didn’t mean to touch your huge, full, sexy balls with my velvet tongue. Not at all, Johnny.”
“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to concentrate on this Sweetheart right. Here.”
Johnny kicked Wade away, stroked upward to make you moan, and then grabbed you by the neck as he flipped you over onto your back, grasping your thighs and folded you in half like a pretzel.
“You ready to take this hot cock?”
You nodded enthusiastically as Johnny Storm began to fuck you relentlessly, his long cock reaching that magic spot inside you as you tightened around him, much to your chagrin.
It was going to be over too soon. You wanted him to use you longer.
“Mmmmph, Darlin’ I feel you, still so tight around me even after these two knuckle heads fucked your cunt silly. Should be loose, but damn, girl. C’mon. Cum for me like you did for Wolverine and Wade. Gimme that shit.”
Johnny reached down and strummed your clit, as Wade came and held your legs in place, his oddly beautiful cock hard against his abdomen. You stretched your neck and teabagged him, earning a choked, garbled moan, and no words from him.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan standing over you and stroking his hard-for-you-again dick.
“Shit, shit, sheeeeiiittttttttt this pussy is so good. Fuck!”
Johnny pulled out and stood over your body as you scrambled up on your knees to open your mouth for your reward. The men gathered around you as first Johnny spurted white, hot cum all over your face, then Logan jerked on your tits, rubbing his bulbous tip all over your nipples, and Wade just sprayed everywhere as he watched the show.
You collapsed on your knees, wiping your face as strong arms lifted you up and took you to the other side of the cave and started washing you off with a bucket of water that had been warming by the fire. You looked up into Logan’s eyes and he avoided your gaze, concentrating on getting the cum out of your hair.
“You can rest now. We’ll cook up this bird that Pyro threw in here for food and you can sleep for a while.”
You sensed genuine tenderness, and another spark of a future need within him. You knew that they would wake you up for more than food later.
And you were more than okay with that.
So you just smiled at him as his hand trailed the water down your body, this moment a respite for all of you, in the chaos of Cassandra’s world.
