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lightsoutletsgo · 1 month

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names the f1 drivers would call their partner ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

word count: 2k

warnings: cheesy cringy fluff I just thought this was a cute little idea so I decided to turn it into a whole post of it's own! I noticed that I've kind of started assigning names to specific drivers just because that's the vibe I get from them! as always this is entirely personal opinion. happy reading! mimi ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･ it isn't all the drivers bc I don't write for the entire grid but if you wanted to see one driver in particular then pls send in a request and I'll see what I can do!

cl.16 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Ma belle (my beautiful or my lovely) Simple and sounds divine when it rolls off the tongue with the French accent! Charles can't remember when he first called you the name because it's all he ever calls you! He adores the way you smile when you hear it and knowing you like it just as much as he does makes him say it again and again and again.

"Ma belle" is the first thing you hear as your eyes slowly blink open in the morning light. You smile happily with a hum as Charles' lips press against your cheek slowly, "Good morning ma belle, how did you sleep hmm?" With a giggle you roll over to look at him properly, "You know I always sleep better when you're home, handsome." You poke his nose gently and it scrunches up before he's pulling you into his arms, hating that you're not as close as possible to him, "Well then ma belle, let's sleep a little longer..."

cs.55 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Princesa (princess) It's classic and sweet without being too cringy! Carlos originally started calling you princesa as a joke but found that he actually quite liked it. You're his princess and so giving you that title only made sense! Carlos swears his heart melts when you pout up at him and he realises all over again he's more than happy to keep calling you his princess.

"Carlooooos!" You whined, "My feet hurt..." You pouted as you squatted down on the pavement, unable to take another step. "Princesa..." Carlos sighed, "I told you those shoes would hurt your feet." You stared up at him, bottom lip jutting out, "I can't walk anymore..." Carlos chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip gently, "Here, princesa," He guided you up and over to a nearby bench before kneeling in front of you. You sighed as his warm hands eased your shoes off of your feet, "Better?" You nodded, "I'm going to get the car, it's just around the corner okay?" You smiled at him, "Thank you." "Of course princesa... And when we get home I'll run you a bath and give you a foot rub, okay?"

ln.4 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Sunshine Cute and different. Lando has many names for you that all depend on both of your moods and the situation; jellybean, pretty girl, babe, mamas, peach, but sunshine is his favourite. He tells you it's because you're his little piece of Monaco sunshine when he's far away from home and missing you. He draws his inspiration from lazy mornings spent with you in the bed of your shared Monaco apartment, the sun dappling soft patterns on your skin as his lips chase the sunlight.

"Hi sunshine..." You giggle as Lando's scruff tickles your bare shoulder, relishing in the way his lips trace a line of soft kisses across your back as the sunlight pours in through the floaty net curtains. You roll over and loop your arms around his neck, "Good morning gorgeous..." You nuzzle your nose into his and he presses a kiss to your cheek, humming happily as the sun warms the room. "What are your plans for the day?" He asks, desperately hoping that they revolve around him, you contemplate for a moment before rolling over on top of him, "Nothing at all!" Lando finds himself breathless as he gazes at you, the morning light highlighting the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin and making your lips look so damn kissable. He knows that when he's far away from home, this is what he'll remember. His own slice of heaven and his very own sunshine.

op.81 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Angel sweet and gives you butterflies! Is very nice to hear in all sorts of settings and moods... The first time he saw you, Oscar thought you looked like an angel and though it took him a while to pluck up the courage to call you angel for the first time, it's now the name he always uses for you! Even when you're not around he still refers to you as his angel (much to Lando's annoyance because he thinks you two are icky sometimes).

"Hey angel!" You gave a watery smile at your boyfriend through the call, hating that he was so far away, "have you been crying?" You nodded slowly, knowing how guilty Oscar felt leaving you behind. "I'm sorry angel... Hey," he said lowly, "I left one of my hoodies in your wardrobe, why don't you go grab it?" Following his instructions you grabbed the hoodie and cuddled into bed, holding it up to your nose and desperately trying to imagine he was there with you, "You look so cute angel..." You giggled, "Even when I'm all teary and snotty and sad?" "Especially then!" He beamed back at you, "Who you talking to Oscah?" You heard his teammate's voice drift through the phone, "Just talking to my angel." Oscar cooed, earning a groan from Lando that had you and Oscar bursting into giggles, "You're not even here in the same room and you're still being mushy!"

ls.2 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Baby Simple and understated Logan likes to keep things simple but sweet and so baby is his go-to name for you. He's worked out that it suits a variety of situations and moods whether you're feeling happy, down, excited, angry or... needy. 'Baby' is usually followed up with a quick smooch to the cheek or forehead.

"Babyyyy?" Logan dragged out the last syllable, sitting next to you on the couch, "Babe? You can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined, flopping down onto the pillows. "My last brownie Logan. The last one." You hmmphed, crossing your arms for emphasis, "Baby I'm sorry! I didn't realise it was the last one..." You looked at Logan who now sat up next to you looking very dejected. You sighed, "It's okay," "Thank you so much baby," he kissed your cheek, "I will never eat your brownies again no matter how many are there." You giggled as he gave a mock salute, "Now, go put your shoes on baby, we're going to go and get more brownies!"

gr.63 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ My love Classic and to the point! It’s sweet without feeling like too much. With or without the ‘my’ it still feels intimate.George knew not long after you’d started dating there would never be any other name for you. He loves saying it even when you’re out and around other people, it’s not too much that it’s cringy or awkward but it lets people know just how important you are to him. Sometimes he’ll drop the ‘my’ and just call you love, but even that is enough to have your cheeks heating up and to make you bite your bottom lip through a smile.

“My love?” You heard George call out as the door to your shared apartment opened, “In the kitchen!” You called back, hurrying around to make sure everything was ready for dinner. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You whirled around to see George standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You smiled fondly at him as he approached you, pulling you into his arms and settling his hands on your waist, “You look beautiful my love, is this the dress you bought with Lily the other day?” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to peck his lips, “It is, speaking of, is she here?” George nodded, “Yeah, they’re in the dining room.” You squealed with excitement and untangled yourself from George to run to Lily, after the squealing and hugging had died down, George poked his head out of the kitchen, “Do you want me to bring the plates in here love?” Alex laughed shaking is head at George, “You’re so whipped for her.” George nodded, not even phased at Alex’s teasing, “She’s my love, of course I am.”

lh.44 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Darling Iconic and timeless, this name has stood the test of time. Darling sounds so good falling off of his lips. Whether it’s tinged with that slight American accent from time to time or sounds completely British, Lewis loves the way your hand always searches for his or your head drops to his shoulder once he’s said it. Lewis isn’t one for big PDA but he will always use this name, especially if he wants to check in with you mid-event or at a large gathering. Using this name is just one of the many ways he takes care of you.

“Darling,” You stopped mid-conversation with Toto and Susie as Lewis suddenly appeared behind you, his hand sliding down your arm before linking his fingers with yours and subtly pulling you to stand a little closer to him “are you feeling okay?” He knew you hated these big events, especially when he couldn’t stay by your side the whole time. You turned to look at him a sweet smile breaking across your face as you squeezed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head before noticing your glass was empty, “I’ll be right back darling,” He plucked your glass out of your hand and made his way to the bar, you staring after him lovingly, “The two of you are so sweet.” Your head snapped back to Susie who stood there watching you with a fond expression, you giggled, “He takes good care of me,” “You’re good for him too.” Toto acknowledged with a nod, “Here you are darling,” A hand appeared in front of you with a fresh drink, followed by Lewis. Taking the glass from him you pecked his cheek and linked your hand with his, “Thank you love.”

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neocentral · 9 months

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rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, stepcest, somnophilia, drugging, stepbrother!jeno x reader

masterlist

Jeno knows it’s wrong but no one seems to get him off quite like you can. Jeno thinks it’s because there’s really nothing you can do in state of unconsciousness. When you’re so pliable for him to do as he pleases.

He sees you in his old, worn t-shirts accompanied by soft, thin panties, and even softer thighs. It’s like you draw him in intentionally with the way your legs spread in your deep sleep, and his shirt rides up to your waist, the washed out blue contrasting the color of your underwear.

Your chest moves steadily, deep, peaceful inhales followed by slow exhales. He can feel your breath against his fingers as he runs a gentle hand over your clavicle, testing the waters. Had it worked? You didn’t move. In fact, there was no indication of disruption at all. Jeno’s stomach flutters as the ghost of a smile pulls at his lips.

Jeno takes his time, soaking in every inch of your body as if it was his first time seeing it. Though, that was far from the truth. Jeno had been doing this for some time, slipping fine powder into your dinner as soon as backs were turned. Your father, his mother, and you were oblivious to his actions.

Jeno had just been so desperate the first time, having spent far too much time without any sexual satisfaction. You were so pretty that first day, kindly helping his mother prepare supper in a short sundress, a pure lightly colored pink and his fingers itched to dance over your figure, slip inside your soft walls and split you open to prepare you for his impatient cock. So when he thinks back to the drugs that had been dropped into his hands by a smirking Haechan, Jeno had acted on impulse. And he had yet to regret it.

You smell of vanilla, sweet and light, and Jeno absorbs the scent as he makes his way down your body and back up you legs. Jeno’s nose brushes your upper thigh as he inhales deeply, searching for your natural musk. He digs in closer as he senses it, pressing his face against the seat of your panties, using his tongue to poke at your hole and his nose to nudge at your bud through the barrier of fabric. You don’t stir, leaving him with access to your heat.

You are just as tight around his fingers as you were the first time, clenching down two of his fingers as he works them in and out. Jeno pushes the shirt you wore up further, pressing kisses to your belly as his thumbs work on sensitive buds, one on your heat and the other on your sensitive chest.

Arousal pools around his fingers, and Jeno’s mouth makes its way to your core, flicking his tongue and collecting the smallest bit of wetness. He rolled it across his mouth, savoring the taste as it fused with his saliva. The taste awakened something within him, screaming at him to use you brutally like he had so many nights before.

He bares his teeth as he makes his way up your body again, stopping to pull your flesh between his teeth and pull meanly, freeing his length as he does so. The leaky tip meets your core, lining itself up perfectly to your hole that squeezes around nothing, calling for his cock to fill it.

Jeno pushes inside with one quick thrust and his pace starts immediately, fast snaps of his hips meeting the insides of your thighs he desperately holds on to. He groans, deep and guttural as he stares down your abdomen taking in the curves.

Jeno bites his lip to keep his groans at bay, opening his ears to detect any movement within the house. It’s silent, as it usually was, but his mother was on edge ever since you confided in her, informing her of the soreness between your thighs and tender spots across your body. She tried to come up with excuses, anything to remove the wrinkle from between your brows, but you seemed less and less convinced as more time passes, and she seemed to be running out of explanations. His mother was a light sleeper when there was something so serious on her mind.

Jeno feels himself inch towards his climax as he thinks of what would happen if he was interrupted. If his mother or your father caught him ruthlessly using you, treating you like nothing short of a doll in your sleep, causing the mysterious pain that plagued your mind.

The thought has Jeno cumming, dull alarm rising in his mind as he realizes he hadn’t worn a condom this time. Jeno doesn’t stop until the last drop of him is shoved into your pussy. Watching the stream of pearly white semen slide out of your opening. He let himself wonder what excuse you could come up with to explain the unmistakable substance currently ruining your sheets.

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s6lars · 4 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri crashes an interview…

slightly suggestive, a little pedri x reporter!reader moment. inspired by this moment between iker casillas and his then gf after spain won the world cup. let's pretend barca wins the cl. enjoy!

"Can we get one more player to interview?"

Your producer's voice rings through the earpiece, prompting you to push it deeper to hear better.

The thunderous roars from the humongous crowd bleeds through the tunnels of Wembley Stadium, still persisting hours after the full-time whistle blew the moment Barcelona became champions of Europe.

"Come again?" you reply.

"One more player. Get them in front of the mic."

Jules Koundé and Fermin Lopéz had stopped by for an interview earlier, but clearly that wasn't enough for your producer or the show. Standing on your tiptoes, you scan the busy yet lively atmosphere of the tunnels — crowded, upbeat, slightly cramped, and filled with a persistent tone of chatter from the tens of reporters present.

It doesn’t look like any new players would emerge from the dressing rooms, at least not for a while. You were just about to inform your producer about it when you see your boyfriend walking into the room, nudging his way through the crowd.

Pedri González in all his glory, sporting the signature blue and red kit, beads of sweat in his hair and the rosey blush splayed across his face. The calls of reporters grew as they tried to get his attention, but once his honey brown eyes met yours, it was only you who he was drawn to.

He makes the proud walk to your booth, the shiny Champions League medal dangling on his neck, gleaming under the lights. Pedri's smile grows with every step, happily ignoring the twenty or so other reporters calling his name.

"Hey baby," Pedri coos, hands naturally wrapping around your figure. Your body tenses for a moment at the PDA — it doesn't go unnoticed by him, swiftly releasing you from his embrace.

Although your relationship had been long public by now, this the first time your worlds have crossed professionally (ironic, given that you were a sports reporter, and Pedri was an athlete). There were several conversations about this and it usually ended the same way — as long as there was a camera pointed in your direction, there could be no signs that you were a couple.

"You're working right now?" Pedri asks. You nod in response.

"I need you for an interview. It won't be long, I promise." You signal at your cameraman to prepare the interview, turning back to Pedri.

"I wouldn't mind either way." There's that smile again, the smile that only draws one out of you as well. "Hey, I didn't see you during the celebrations earlier.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I had to get ready for this,” you recall, taking off as soon as the Blaugranas lifted the trophy. It pained your heart to not run up to Pedri and jump into his arms, instead, you ran the other way to touch up your makeup underground.

“But hey, we can take pictures later. When it’s less crowded. And a lot quieter.”

“I can think of several things we can do where it’s less crowded. Dunno about quiet, though,” Pedri teases, low enough so only you could hear.

No amount of Patrick Ta blush could replicate the growing heat painted on your cheeks. You shove him playfully, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh.

Pedri looks devilishly handsome tonight — he always does, but something about his boosted confidence from the win only amplified it. His tongue darts out to lave over his bottom lip, taking it between his teeth as he drinks in your figure.

Were the tunnels always this hot?

“Guys,” your cameraman calls, signaling for you to get ready. You shake off all the unholy thoughts in your mind reserved for the comfort of Pedri’s hotel room later that night, fix your hair, and bring the mic up to your chest.

One, two, three, your cameraman mouths, and you’re live on air to millions.

“Welcome back to Wembley! Most of the players are still celebrating by now, but I’m joined by Pedri here.” The camera pans, now fitting you both into the frame.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?” You hope the sound system doesn’t catch the unusual giddiness in your voice as you address him.

“What is there to say? What should I tell you that you already don’t know?” Pedri’s eyes don’t leave yours for a second, completely disregarding the lens, speaking like you’re the only person in the room.

“Well, tell us how you feel,” you respond through giggles, instinctively taking a step closer to him.

“You’ve caught me in a true moment of happiness, not just from me, but from the rest of the club. It’s been a season full of ups and downs and we truly feel like we’ve deserved for it to end this way,” Pedri explains.

“… and I just want to thank all the people that have supported me throughout all this. My parents, my brother…”

Pedri’s voice breaks as he reaches the end of his sentence, his finger reaching up to swipe any stray tears spilling onto his cheeks. You wanted nothing more than to drop the microphone and pull his head into the crook of your neck, but you stood your ground.

Watching the love of your life speak so highly of his loved ones, pouring his heart out with the world watching, it’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. And you feel like it’s happening all over again.

“It’s fine, we can just talk about other things for now…” You try to diffuse the situation, watching as Pedri regains composure in front of you.

“No,” he suddenly blurts, waving his finger.

“No?” you barely manage to squeak out before Pedri leans in — and he’s kissing you.

One arm around your shoulders and his free hand gripping your chin, Pedri moulds his lips against yours. All sense of professionalism had evaporated from your body, drunk on the way he tasted.

He pulls away before you could kiss back, landing one last sneaky peck on your forehead before making a run for it. “I’m leaving! See you later!” he says in between giggles.

You watch him disappear into the stairwell when the sound of applause fills your ears, and you only then realize what position you’re in — putting on a show for the crowd of reports.

“My my, Pedri. What a man he is.”

A voice rings through your earpiece. You also put on a show for the crowd of millions at home.

Your face is heated once more, your words tripping over themselves as you try to think of a closing statement. Part of you wants to scold Pedri and teach him a lesson for messing with you at work — the other wants him to kiss you senseless again, letting the world know you belong to each other.

“When Pedri comes back to Spain, tell him I want to give him a kiss as well!”

#@s6lars #@s6lars: pg8 #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #football imagines #pedri x reader #pedri fluff #pedri imagines #pedri headcanons #pedri scenarios #pedri x y/n #pedri drabbles #pedri one shots

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theemporium · 2 years

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[REQUESTS OPEN]

[3.1k] or, void understands you. he can help you. he isn’t scared of you or what you are. you just have to let him set you free. (smut)

“Look at you,” he cooed softly, his hands running over your exposed skin with a feather-like touch. “So pretty when you listen, little dove.”

“Please,” you whimpered out, your voice was breathy and soft and he loved it. He loved the way your glossy eyes stared up at him, the way your cheeks were flushed and your lips raw and the way your whole body responded to him.

“Good girl using her manners now, hm?” he murmured with an amused huff as his fingers trailed over the plain of your stomach, smirking a little when your body twitched under his touch. “What would they say if they saw you right now?”

“I—” you gasped when you felt his hand grip your thigh, keeping your legs open and spread just for him.

“They’re scared of you,” he told her as his eyes caught hers. His stare was intense and deep and made her squirm beneath him. “They don’t understand you and they never will, little dove. They don’t understand people like you and me.”

And despite your better judgement, the snide remark slipped past your lips. “And you do?”

There was a pause. The hands exploring your body stopped, the soft creaking of the pipes were the only sound that could be heard as the seconds dragged on and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up.

But Void had no problem solving that for you.

You felt his fingers roughly grab your chin, forcefully tilting your head back until his dark eyes met yours.

“I know you better than you know yourself, baby,” he gritted through clenched teeth as his leg slid between your own. “I know what makes you happy…what makes you sad,” he dipped down so his lips were brushing your own. “I know what makes you scream.”

Your eyes fluttered closed but quickly snapped back open when his grip tightened.

“They will never understand you like I do,” he whispered softly, almost like he cared. Almost like a lover’s words. “They will never give you what you need like I would.”

And a part of you knew what he said was true. They would never understand what you were or what you could do. It scared them. It scared them so much they locked you up in Eichen House without a second thought. They locked you away when they could no longer control you.

“Pretty little dove trapped in a pretty little cage,” Void whispered as his hand slipped between your thighs, your legs practically shaking in anticipation. “I can set you free.”

“Please,” you breathed out, desperate and needy and so beyond caring what it meant now. It had been weeks now. Weeks of the lingering gazes and teasing touches, whispered words and late night talks. You found yourself intrigued by the hyperactive brunette, wanting—no, needing to know more about him.

Then something changed.

Something snapped in him.

Something darker.

But you, being the foolish and hopeful fool you were, you still blindly followed him because he wasn’t scared. He didn’t treat you like a freak of nature or a monster. He looked at you like you meant something, that you were worth something.

You followed him down to the basement because you craved it more than anything else. You craved him more than anything else.

It was a blur of emotions and pleasure. The way his hands gripped your hips, the way he led you back towards the couch and trapped you beneath him. The way his lips were on yours, his kisses as addictive as his words and the little sounds he made making you want to whatever he asked. Just as long as he kept touching you.

He was pulling the scratchy material of your shirt off with your sweatpants following quickly after until you were tucked beneath him, dressed in only a pair of flimsy panties and your body burning up as you desperately chased your high over and over again.

But he would never let you reach it.

“You want that, baby?” Void hummed, his thumb brushing along the soaked material, drawing out a small whine from you when he circled your clit. “I can you make you feel so good.”

You nodded, hands gripping his wrist as you helplessly tried to grind against his palm. But Void was two steps ahead, pulling away from you completely as he tsked mockingly. You let out a pathetic whine, every instinct in your body wanting to reach out for him, for the warmth of his body.

“Use your words, little dove.”

You stared up at him as he sat there, kneeled on the couch above you. Your eyes glanced down at his hands, following up his arms to the shirt that practically stuck to his body. Your gaze dropped to the front of his sweatpants, your throat going dry when you saw how hard he was, when you saw how badly he wanted you to.

“I want you to set me free,” you spoke so softly, looking like the semblance of innocence as your shaking hands rested on your stomach. Your pinkie darted down to trace the hem of your panties and he was seconds away from ripping the material off with his teeth.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, gulping a little. It made him hard to know he still scared you a little.

“You understand me.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised as he leaned down to press a long, hard kiss against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands instantly reaching to grip his shirt as you tried to pull him closer. “I fucking understand you. I am the only one who can help you.”

“You’re the only one who can help me,” you repeated breathlessly.

The movements were quick and fast, almost invisible to the human eye but then again, Void wasn’t human. He sat back against the couch, with you now prettily straddling his lap. He could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he ran his hands up and down your arms. He could feel the way your body leaned into his.

“If I’m gonna set you free, baby, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Void spoke, his voice low and gravelly and it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded.

“Words, little dove.”

“Yes.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll obey you,” you said, your voice shaking a little.

“Atta girl,” Void murmured happily as his hands rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips. He watched with eager eyes as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking the digit as happily as you’d suck his cock if he let you.

You whined as he pulled his hand away, slumping back in his seat as he took in the sight in front of him. Your hands tucked behind your back, chest rising and falling with little pants and your eyes glued to him, waiting for him to touch you again. Waiting for him to allow you to touch him.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, little dove?” The mocking tone in his voice wasn’t lost on you, wanting to press your thighs together but your position prevented you from doing so. “So wet and needy for me. Bet you are just desperate to come, hm?”

You gulped, nodding your head frantically. “Wanna come so bad.”

“Yeah? My little dove wants to come?” his voice sounded so soothing, so fucking patronising but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame. “Go ahead then, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as he relaxed in his seat, head laying against the back of the couch. “What?”

“Make yourself come,” he repeated again, his lips twitching into something quite vindictive and yet you couldn’t help but think how pretty he looked. “Use me, baby. Use me to set yourself free.”

“I-I don’t get what you—” you babbled, your cheeks burning under his watchful gaze as he cooed mockingly.

“Don’t get shy on me now, little dove, thought you were my good girl,” Void spoke as he ran his hands up and down your bare thighs. “What was that silly little fantasy you had? You…my thighs…yeah, you liked that one, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched as he let out a small laugh. You don’t know how he knew, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know how. The nights were you were unable to sleep, the covers were stuffy and your body felt warm and the only thing that made it bearable was slipping your hand beneath the hem of your panties and letting the pillow muffle your moans so you don’t get caught.

For him to know, to hear the little whispers and fantasies you thought you shared in the privacy of the dark rooms at night…

It shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did to know there was a possibility he was watching you, listening to you…that he was right there with you.

“Go on,” Void’s lips twitched upwards as he slowly guided you to straddle one of his thighs. “Put on a show for me.”

Deep down a part of you knew this was a bad idea. That you shouldn’t be here with him, alone and in this position. That following him down was your first mistake and everything else that followed only added to the mess. Deep down you knew that he was bad.

But you just truly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Your hands moved to grip his shoulders, lip nervously tucked between your teeth as you began to rock your hips back and forth. Slow, deliberate movies as your clit brushed against the material of his sweatpants, and it felt good but it was not enough.

“C’mon, baby, use me,” Void urged, his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Thought you wanted to come, hm?”

“I do,” you whispered.

“Then stop acting like a fucking brat and do as you’re told,” he growled as his fingers twisted around the material of your panties and ripped them with ease, letting the ruined material drop to the floor.

Your hips stuttered against his thigh, your hands gripping his shirt as you tried to get the words out of your mouth but no sound came out. You stared down at him, helpless and dazed and god, you didn’t think you had ever seen something so fucking hot.

“Can’t do anything yourself, can you?” Void commented, shaking his head slowly and something in your stomach twisted. “Need my help for everything, don’t you, little dove? Can’t even come yourself.”

“I…I can,” you argued but it fell limp when he gripped your hips, guiding them along his thigh.

“Can you?” he mocked, head tilted to the side as your hips began to move more frantically. Moans began to spill from your lips, desperate and shameless and sounding so pretty so his ears. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” you cried out, shaking your head as he bounced his leg beneath you.

“You look so pretty like this,” Void praised as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. “Nobody can make you feel like this. Nobody can make you feel like this but me.”

“Just you,” you whined out, tears welling in your eyes and your thighs burning but you couldn’t stop, not even if you wanted to.

“Just me, baby,” he growled, lifting his hand to roughly grip his cheeks so he could watch the dazed look on your face as you reached your high. “You only need me.”

“I only need you,” you whimpered, lips parting when you felt the muscles in your body tensing up. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Please,” you moaned out, eyes fluttering closed. “Please, let me come. I-I need to, just please, please, please—”

Words escaped you in a desperate plea, like a mantra he could have listened to over and over again. Your body clinging to him, hair sticking to the back of your neck and your whole body shaking as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his thigh as he sat there, fully clothed and amused.

“Come for me, little dove.”

The words barely processed in your head as your orgasm washed over you, a bright white light shining behind your closed eyes. Your head tilted back, his name and moans mixed together deliciously with sobs as your body let the pleasure wash over you. You were exhausted and sore and barely fucking coherent.

But he wasn’t done.

He ignored the whimpers that left your mouth as his grip on your hips remained, your cunt pressed against his thigh. He guided your face to his, unable to help himself as he kissed along your wet cheeks, the salty taste of your tears making him groan.

“Look how good I’m helping you,” Void murmured, lips brushing against yours but he never quite let you lean closer to kiss him. “You’re gonna help me too, hm?”

You let out a shuddered breath.

“Gonna be my good girl and help me, yeah?”

“I wanna be your good girl,” you whined softly, squirming in your spot and letting out a small moan as your clit brushed against his thigh again. “I wanna help.”

“So good for me,” Void praised as you leaned into his touch. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew that. He knew that you were so fucked out and so fucking out of it that you would have done whatever he said, would have done whatever he pleased. And he would be lying if he said that thought alone didn’t make him unbearably hard.

You barely had time to respond before he had flipped you over, your stomach pressing into the edge as he bent you over the back of the couch. You could feel him behind you, his hands gliding along your back and down to your ass, squeezing and groping it. You jumped a little when he landed a quick slap on your cheek, the sound echoing through the basement along with your soft whimpers.

You wanted to turn your head back, to look at him over your shoulder and see his face as he enters you but something told you to do otherwise. Instead you laid there, hands clenching the fabric of the couch as he spread your legs and let the cool air hit your soaking cunt.

“So wet for me,” he mused with a laugh, his fingers sliding along your slit and pressing slow, deliberate circles against your swollen clit. He lightly shushed you as you whined, his fingers moving to slowly push one inside you, enamoured by the way your cunt instantly clenched around him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Void muttered as he fucked you at a torturous pace, sliding in another finger to tease you that little bit more. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take me, little dove.”

“I can,” you gasped out, nodding your head helplessly. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to help you.”

Void groaned under his breath, the words sounding so desperate and innocent from your lips that he couldn’t resist any longer. He shrugged off the clothing with little care, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he pumped it a few times, spreading the bead of precum along his tip.

You could feel the heat of his body behind you, his arms caging you in against the couch as he ran the head of his cock along your cunt, tapping your clit as you wriggled and squirmed beneath him. Breathless pleas escaped your lips as you urged him to fuck you, to finally be inside you and who was he to deny you when you sounded so pretty.

A broken moan let your lips as he thrusted inside you, little care about being gentle or tender with you. The groans that escaped his lips didn’t sound human as he entered you, feeling your tight cunt clench around him with such neediness.

“You wanted this, little dove, you wanted me to fuck you like this,” he growled as he bottomed out inside of you. “Such a desperate little thing, so needy for attention, aren’t you?”

“Void,” you moaned out, one hand reaching back to grab or hold some part of him as he mercilessly fucked you, your body bouncing with each thrust but it felt so good you couldn’t even care. “Please, please, please.”

“So fucking cockdrunk you can’t even answer me,” he said with a laugh that sounded so patronising it shouldn’t have made you clench around him the way you did. “Do I do your fantasies justice, hm? Can he make you feel like I can?”

You let out a high-pitched whine. “Stiles—”

“Don’t fucking say his name when I’m inside you,” he growled, his hand finding it’s place around your throat as he pulled you back until you were pressed against his chest. “He wouldn’t even know what to do with a desperate little thing like you.”

Your brain felt fuzzy as you approached your second high of the night, so close to the last and yet your body crazed it. You crazed the release—you craved him—like an addiction, a shot of pure fucking adrenaline and dopamine straight to your brain. You craved him like you craved air.

“Please,” you cried out, your legs shaking as you reached closer and closer to that edge.

“Come around my cock,” It sounded more like an order over anything else, but you were happy to comply. “Come around my cock and scream my name. You sound so pretty when you scream my name, when you tell everybody in this fucking prison who makes you feel like this.”

Everything passed in a blur. The tidal wave of exhaustion and pleasure as your second orgasm wracked through your body, the way Void groaned your name as he quickly followed you through your high a few thrusts later, coming inside you as he did. The way your eyes fluttered closed because it took too much effort to keep them open. It took too much effort to do anything at that moment.

But you could still feel him. His warm, heavy body behind you as he slowly pulled out, a soft whine leaving your lips when you felt his fingers graze over your leaking cunt, slowly fucking his cum back into you with two fingers. Your body felt buzzed and tired and sore, and yet you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

Not as he fucked you through another orgasm.

Not as he held your shaking body as you cried out his name.

Not as he pressed his lips against your jugular, whispering “you’re mine” over and over again until it was the last thing you remembered as you passed out.

Because he was right.

He was the only one who understood and he was the only one who could help you.

You were his.

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loquaciousferret · 1 year

Text

Over And Done With

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: persistent but not dubcon or noncon. javi being a cocky rude asshole (you all know my Javi by now) smut 18+, oral (f receiving) fingering, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, sexism

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Javi is still my leading man guys... Enjoy this little piece of filth. Thank you for over 1k on my other two Javi oneshots, so grateful! Thanks to Lucy and Gi as always for thots with me ;)

Playlist: Dark But Just a Game - Lana Del Rey | Less I Know The Better - Tame Impala | Business - Catfish and the Bottlemen | Californication - Red Hot Chilli Peppers

You waited until the office was nearly empty. That wasn’t a deliberate choice, simply a consequence of how long it took you to pluck up the nerve to face Agent Peña and tell him that the meaningless sex you two had been having for the past few months was over.

You knocked on his door and he drawled to come in.

You opened it and crossed the threshold to his office timidly. He was standing at a filing cabinet, rifling through papers, a tight white shirt stretching over his wide shoulders and strong biceps- Stop it. You tell yourself.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He says, his gaze rising to meet yours. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail up and down your body shamelessly, fixing for a second on the exposed skin of your thighs, and again on your chest.

“We need to talk.” You say firmly.

He doesn’t even attempt to hide the insolent roll of his eyes. He loosens his tie and reaches for the cigarettes on his desk.

“Really?” He says, irritated.

“This… Arrangement between us. It’s over.”

“Wow.” He says, sarcastically. “And the hits just keep on coming today. What put that stupid thought in your head then, huh?”

You narrow your eyes. Why does he always have to be such a dick. You ignore the question.

You make your way towards his desk and reach into your purse. You retrieve a set of handcuffs and clatter them onto the tabletop.

“You forgot these in my bedroom.” You say, feigning nonchalance.

“I didn’t forget them. They were there for safekeeping.” His smirk is growing with each comment he throws at you.

“Well, I won’t be needing them anymore.”

He has a smug and infuriating expression. “No, keep ‘em. They’re a parting gift.”

“They aren’t yours to give. They’re the property of the US government.”

“Riiight.” He agrees, in a mocking tone.

You turn to leave and hear him sigh. “Thanks for stopping by, sweetheart. My place or yours tonight?”

“Peña-" You huff in frustration, turning to face him. "Have you not listened to a word I said? We are done.”

He takes a lazy draw of his cigarette, not wiping the taunting smirk off his face the entire time.

"No, we're not." He shoots back.

You sigh. "Why do you have to be so difficult? It's not a big deal, we don't even like each other, in fact, I barely tolerate you, so-"

He cuts you off "Then why do you keep coming back for more?"

You shake your head and turn away from him, not pleased with the direction of conversation, and desperate to get out before he can work his magic on you. But he stalks towards you, and though you had nearly reached the door he is spinning you round to face him and presses your back into it instead.

"I-"

"Shhh," He coos. "I know why. You crave me. Like an addict needs a hit, baby."

"No, I-"

"Yes. That's why you beg me for it. That's why you give yourself to me, any time, any place." His voice has dropped to a whisper and he is so close to you, his hot breath causes goosebumps to raise on the surface of your skin.

"You see how your body reacts to me?" He smirks, "I haven't even touched you, cariño."

"Just admit it." He urges you.

You somehow gather the resolve to shake your head, and a passing thought tells you that you should have attempted this in a more public place so he couldn't accost you like this and throw the whole conversation off track.

You reach out to push him away and create distance between you, trying to escape from the overwhelming cloud of his scent that envelopes you. Citrus, tobacco, sea salt, gunpowder.

"Please, Javi, no, I-"

He takes you by the wrist to stop you from pushing him, and his other hand lifts up your chin and forces you to look into his eyes. They are dark with lust and menace.

"Fine, baby, we can stop." He says, a sweet tone to his voice that you know is too good to be true. "On one condition."

"What?" You respond, somewhat breathlessly, still lost in the sensation of his heady presence.

"You let me slide my fingers up your skirt. If you're not dripping wet for me, I'll let you go."

You know that arousal has been growing between your legs ever since he invaded your personal space. It was an animalistic reaction, but one that betrayed your true feelings, leaving you vulnerable to the dominating Javi. Your thighs were clenched together in an attempt to relieve some of the tension, but it wasn't working.

"Don't be ridiculo-" You begin to protest.

"I'm not. Stop trying to deny your body what it wants. What you want. You want me."

When he slips a large palm between your thighs and begins to gently prise apart the tight grip you have them locked in, you know you are completely beat. One touch from him and you will fall to his mercy, desperately chasing the pleasure you know he is capable of giving you. And this reminds you exactly why it is so hard to ever break things off with Javi. He is utterly relentless, and there are no rules when he is in charge. He never gives you a fair chance.

A small moan escapes you, and he chuckles. You hate that in this game you are trapped in with him, you can never help yourself from showing your cards too early, always emboldening him further to take from you what he wants. And he is right, you do want it too, as destructive as it is to give yourself to someone like him, you can't deny the way he makes you feel, and you end up right back where you started every time you attempt to withdraw to a safe distance.

His fingers graze the hem of your panties, then, he must change his mind, withdrawing them. You whine, giving away more and more just how much you desire his touch. You are surprised when he is dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Jav-"

"Shh, baby." He says. He takes the fabric of your skirt and pushes it up your legs, slowly exposing your skin inch by inch until it is bunched around your hips and he is separated from your arousal by only your thin red lace panties.

"Who are you wearing these for if you weren't planning on being with me today?" He says, licking up your thighs and sucking lightly at certain spots.

You whine pathetically at the sensation and his lips tickle you as they curve into a smirk. He puts a hand between your legs and seperates them further, putting his head between your thighs and pressing his face into the fabric. He inhales deeply and groans, sending vibrations through you, making you throb with desire.

"I'm gonna taste how turned on you are for me." He whispers.

He hooks fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them down your legs. The cold air hitting your hot, wet core makes you shiver. You step out of your underwear and he stuffs them into his pocket.

He returns to being nestled between your legs and places kisses to your inner thighs, making his way closer to the spot which needs his attention at a teasingly slow pace.

You manage to keep quiet and resist from begging him to hurry up.

Thankfully, he finally licks a wide stripe up your entire core. He literally moans gutturally as he does so. He sends your head into a spin every single time he eats you out like this, so enthusiastic and starving for you.

He alternates between licking up and down your folds and stopping to focus on your clit at the top, sucking gently, circling his tongue around it, constantly varying his pace so that every time you started to get used to the sensation, he would have you whining again by changing up the intensity. He then focusses on your tight entrance, inserting his tongue and then fucking you with it, licking up the arousal leaking from you.

Then, he grips your thigh, and swings your leg over his shoulder to improve his angle of access to you. This practically makes your knees buckle, and he has to hold you up with both hands as he continues to feast on you.

You start to feel your orgasm building and grip his hair, rolling your hips against his mouth to increase the pressure. He senses all of these changes in your movements and knows you are close, focussing his attention entirely on your clit in a steady rhythmic fashion that he knows will take you over the edge.

It doesn't take long before you are shaking with the intensity of the orgasm. But he doesn't stop, harshly warning you to quiet down because there are still people around the embassy and these sounds are only for him. He sucks on your clit gently until it is overstimulated and tears begin to form in your eyes.

Eventually, he pulls back, but you only get a moment of reprieve until he is jamming two fingers inside your cunt to replace his mouth. Your wetness makes it relatively easy to take but you still mewl at the sensation. He curls them and their length allows them to hit a spot deep inside you.

Everything about being intimate with Javi is levels of intensity far beyond what you can achieve alone, or that you ever have with previous lovers. He brings a whole new meaning to the idea of pleasure. You don't tell him this. His ego is big enough.

He brings a thumb to your clit and brushes it gently, continuing to torment you with his two fingers which entered you, scissored and curled, slipped back out of you, and thrusted back in. His pace was inconsistent, so you were left on the edge, never knowing what to expect. As he starts to rub your clit in circles, you notice how sensitive you are from your first orgasm.

"Javiiii-" You drag out the syllable as you whine loudly in pleasure.

"You're gonna cum again before I fuck you." He growls.

"No, no, please." You say, your legs shaking. He combats this by pinning your thighs to the wall with his free forearm, keeping you stuck there.

"It wasn't a question."

He kisses at your skin, wherever he can reach, as he continues to work you with his hand. He presses his lips to your hipbone, then trails down to the thickness of your upper thigh, his moustache tickling you as he travels downwards. Then, he sucks lightly, and you gasp. He nibbles and sucks harder, trying to leave marks. He has a somewhat possessive side to him, revelling in marking your body whether it be with hickeys or handprints. Not in places that others will see, just in private spots where he can admire them for himself.

You know he is trying extra hard to be generous just to remind you why you aren't going to cut him off. He is taking his time on you to prove to you all the reasons why you won't really stop seeing him. It is obvious that this is his ulterior motive, and yet it is working, you start to think you were too rash in your decision to end things.

His tongue flicks over the painful marks he has sucked and bitten into your inner thighs. It tickles and this adds to the once again growing sensation of an orgasm, one that you know is going to rip through you with even more ferocity than the first.

You are whining and moaning his name, panting as the tension inside you reaches a peak, ready to snap at any second and have you unravel all over him.

When it does happen, you think you go slightly dizzy. Your mouth falls open into a scream that never actually leaves your room. You are overwhelmed into silence, your body twitching. You curl your hands through his hair and try to pull him away from you, and he finally obliges.

He takes you by the hand and pulls you away from the door, locking it behind you and moves you both towards the desk. He sits you on top of it, on top of no doubt important government documents. He unexpectedly kisses you on the head, and even in your blissed out post-orgasm state, you note that this is the first time he has ever done this.

But the moment is over quickly, as he is soon spreading your legs again, unbuckling his belt and releasing his erection from his stupidly tight jeans. It doesn't matter how many times you sleep together, you never get used to the size of it every time you see it.

He unbuttons your blouse and slides it off your arms. He stares and takes you all in.

"All for me." He says, dipping his head to the curve of your cleavage and plastering kisses there, stroking his cock against your folds to gather lubrication. You moan at the feeling of it sliding through your sensitive parts, nudging your clit and making you hiss sharply. The next time he comes down to your entrance, he stills. He presses a hand onto your chest to lay you backwards onto the desk. Then he plunges inside you at full force and your back arches from the table top instantly.

You exclaim and he presses a hand to your mouth. The other is gripping one hip, pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust. He has chosen to start with an immediately punishing pace. You know that he is impatient now, having spent so much time on you, that he wont want to draw out his own pleasure, and will use your body now without mercy to reach his own release.

The desk screeches against the floor and some objects roll off the side. This doesn't so much as cause him to falter. He is hyper-focussed on the task at hand, his gaze fixed on watching himself slam in and out of you, only occasionally looking up at you to appreciate the look of pleasure on your face for a moment before looking back down at the place the two of you are connected.

He removes the hand from your mouth and takes it to the other hip, thrusts now impossibly forceful with him pulling your whole body weight against him with every single one.

You wrap your legs around his back and lock your ankles together, pushing him slightly deeper inside you and he grits his teeth. "Fuck, cariño. Tan apretada."

"So tight," He repeats, "You like it, huh?"

You can't respond, too consumed by pleasure. You nod pathetically and you can feel his smirk burning down on you, you know he is watching your face now, admiring the way he can make your expression twist, your mouth fall open, and your eyes squeeze shut.

The feeling is so intense that you are growing numb to it, he is rhythmically slamming against your deepest spots, causing you to whine and whimper, your limbs going slack.

He always becomes more vocal as he reaches his climax, and he does so now, You like my cock, huh? You come in here just to get fucked like this? I know you wanted it, sweetheart.

"You gonna take my cum inside you like a good girl?" He asks

You nod at the last one. "Please, Javi."

"You gonna beg for my cum?"

You whine, half in protest, half because he has somehow changed the angle to result in even more devastating thrusts.

"Do it." He demands.

You perform for him how he asks, using up what little concentration you have to plead in a sultry tone that he fill you up. That he make you his. That he remind you who you belong to.

Soon, he is grunting, profanity spilling from his lips as he tenses up inside you, filling you with hot spurts of his cum.

He stays inside you and leans down, kissing at your neck and chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and play with the soft curls at the back of his neck. The pair of you rarely indulge in a tender moment after sex. He seems so different today.

He does pull out after a few moments, and you pout at him, disappointed by the sensation and missing the feeling of him buried inside you. He smiles and runs a finger over your downturned lips. "Can't stay in there forever. You don't think I want to?"

He takes a few steps away from you, turning away from you to readjust himself. When he faces you again, leaning lazily against the wall, lighting a cigarette, watching you re-dress, his demeanour has completely changed back to usual. His cruel, taunting smirk has returned when you look up at him, straightening your skirt and readjusting it to where it should be just below your mid-thighs. He looks and notices one of the bruises he left just peeking out from under the hem.

You stare back but you don't have any words for him. He fills the silence, walking towards you.

"You see? We’re done when I say we are done, princesa. I'll see you later."

He pats your ass dismissively, sending you on your way, and you exit his office on weak legs. You should have known this would happen, you and Javi still aren’t over and done with yet.

My other smutty Javier Pena works: Partners | Little Games | All Work, No Play

Pedro Pascal Masterlist Taglist @silkiers @lovers-liability @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @atyourmomshouse01 @lucreziazaninelli @pedropascalfan221 @decaffeinatedweirdo @kamcrazy123 @kdogreads @dreamsofmandalore @serenaxpedro @777-wonders @im-the-daddy-here-5 @emcousland-blog

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A PERMANENT JAVI TAGLIST OR FOR ALL PEDRO WORKS

#javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena x reader smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #agent pena smut #agent pena fanfiction #agent pena fanfic

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rafescurtainbangz · 7 days

Text

Mornings with Rafe +18 Minor DNI

Rafe x female reader

Ask: anon - Reader waking up rafe with a bj 🤠 also for my rp daddy @itssmerafecameron 🤭

Oral sex, language, pet names, roughish oral, brief unprotected p in v

✳︎unedited✳︎

760 words

Masterlist

You breathe deeply, eyes opening slowly as you take in your familiar surroundings. Tanneyhill, North Carolina at its finest. The warm summer breeze kicks up the crisp white curtains through the drawn window. Rafe pulls you in a little closer, his strong arms dragging you toward his bare chest, nuzzling himself in the crook of your neck like his personal teddy bear.

There’s nothing on the schedule for the day but a trip to Charleston. Rafe, wanting to spoil you as usual with a shopping trip for his favorite girl. A personal thank you for not losing your mind after he disappeared for a few days on business.

His rough thumb brushes your stomach, even in his sleep his hands find some way to find their resting place on you. His gold rings shimmer as his hand moves a little lower, causing a sinful smile to spread on your lips.

Good morning, Rafe.

Rafe snores lightly, followed by a sleepy little groan as he proves you wrong, continuing with the slumber. He wraps his arms tightly around you, pushing his body flush with yours - his hard cock pressing against the plush of your ass.

Grabbing his wrist you pluck his hand off your body, causing him to tense up and draw a sharp breath. His muscles soften into the pillow once more as you slip under the linen sheets, working lower on the California King.

Your eyes travel down Rafe’s naked form; tanned skin and strong muscles, two deep v-lines leading to his aching cock. He's throbbing. You feel yourself start to pulse too as you eye the sheen of precum glistening on his tip, making your mouth water. Taking Rafe’s hips you press them flat, resting him back on the mattress as you slot yourself between his thighs.

Flattening your tongue you meet his warm skin, licking the length of his shaft to his swollen mushroom tip. You kitten lick the cum off, watching as his stomach muscles wind tight, still not awake, his body responding to your touch on its own.

Easing onto him slowly you take him back into your mouth, little by little, going as deep as you can go without gagging. Rafe lets out a soft groan as you begin to bob up and down, your hands resting lightly on his hips, sucking him off with no hands.

Rafe inhales sharply, unintentionally bucking his hips causing you to finally gag. He lets out a low, drawn-out moan as he comes to. "Baby girl…” He mumbles, “M’dreaming. Gotta be dreamin’,” he chuckles lightly, his voice is gravelly and low, the depth alone lighting you on fire.

Rafe lifts the sheet, meeting your gaze, smiling blissfully as he lifts his sleepy head off the pillow. "You're so fucking beautiful, princess. You know that?" He praises.

You suck off his cock, giving him a hazy smile, your eyes half-lidded, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s beautiful himself, his sandy blonde bangs a mess. His beautiful blue eyes on you like you're the only things he sees.

Rafe rakes his large hand into your hair, wordlessly demanding that you give him more as he gathers your hair in a ponytail. You sink lower, taking as much of him as you can get, making him moan. He throws his head back into the pillow, covering his face with his palm. “Oh my god, baby. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

His hand follows your head as you shift, the other tossing off the sheet completely to get a better view. Rafe applies pressure to the back of your head, using your mouth to stroke his dick, working you up and down. You gag on his shaft, lewd noises pouring out of the both of you as spit rolls out the corners of your lips.

"Just like that, baby. Just. Like. That," he punctuates each word with a rough thrust into your open mouth. Cupping his balls with your hand you roll them delicately, causing his breathing to hitch and quicken. Rafe's moaning and praise draws a little closer, far louder than before. He traces his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyelids falling low. “I wanna finish inside you, baby. Co’mere - Come,” he murmurs.

Rafe presses back into the headboard, stroking his spit-covered cock in his fist as he tugs you closer. He looks down, watching as your warm wet cunt swallows his cock completely. He presses his lips against yours, cumming hard, moaning into your kiss as he buries his load deep.

"Fuck, Rafe," you whine.

“Good morning, princess.”

Taglist

Tags: @oxpogues4lifexo @chiaraanatra @Dilfswife @ietss @drewswifeeee @rafesthroatbaby @voyeurmunson @niyahnotnia @beautifuldisaster88 @gri959 @redhead1180 @rafedrewandjjs @romaescapes @cutielando @obxbabies @rafesgiirl @wearemadeofstardust0 @imbabycowboy @babyyraven @juniebugg @drewstarkeyslut @humanvampire13 @akashababy @dckweed @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @marahgubler @waywardsoul113 @h34rtsformilli @joannamuns9n

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dmaskblog · 11 days

Text

remember when i said the ship of my April fools? Sumy?

SORRY I COULDN'T HANDLE THE DRAW FOR MORE LONGER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

CJ-

going to delete it tomorrow i can't handle the embarrassment!! 😳😳😳😳😳

#Lucy Oc KP #kinitopet #sam the sea anemone #kinito my beloved #kinito the axolotl #cl can draw #sam my beloved

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ballofhair · 1 month

Text

Again, I can't stop!

The kinito is from: @frigid-m-grim

#cl can draw :)#Kinitopet #kinitopet fanart #sam the sea anemone #jade the jellyfish #Kinito the axolotl

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iwaasfairy · 1 year

Note

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

bachira nii who is just the best and sweetest big bro!!! he's always so attentive and so clingy to you! there's not a single moment that you go without having him touch your tits or kiss/lick your neck, he might even just feel up your pussy to make sure you're wet!!

he loves his lil sis so much, he cant help but fuck you as if you're his personal fleshlight. expect him to breed u like a bunny and dont stop until you're overflowing with cum ♡♡♡ oh and dont worry about holding back your moans! he loves to hear them and he loves when you cry out his name! mommy yuu wont mind that her two children r keeping it in the family :)

i heARD AND I RAN okay i spent the wHOLE DAY thinking about this yesterday hhhhgftdsguyfdisgi

tw incest, dubcon, codependency

He likes the shape of your mouth. He likes it so much. Enjoys kissing it, watching it, puffy lips and raw, likes hearing the little sounds that come from you when he claims that mouth. He even likes the way you say his name, his name that’s been called a thousand different times in a thousand different ways. But you say it differently still, cherish it on the tip of your tongue as he pulls your face closer in the evening glow and stares. “Meguru nii,” you say it all pouty and knowing, chest puffed with it. You say it like you know what comes next— and it only feeds the thirst that trickles down his muscles and aching heart.

When he doesn’t answer it, and he doesn’t, can’t, you grow restless and fidgety, and he gets to hear his name in a wholly different way, one reserved for only you. It pushes your lips to the brim with how cute and pouty they can be, without being kissed to shreds by him. “Ru nii~” you beg.

And he answers it by pushing you down onto his bed and pulling the covers a little further over you, until the world is almost completely shut out from the both of you. He lies down on top of you this way, caging your body under him— how he likes it. How the monster says it’s meant to be. And the heat that plays over your cheeks is nothing but further encouragement, because you look so damn pretty when the lowest light catches the glittering of your teary eyes.

“I’m supposed to be in bed. I’ve got an early cl-mhm!”

He kisses you square on the mouth, or teeth, no matter, because when his hands slide along your sides and start fondling your soft tits, tugging at sweet, puffy nipples— it’s all too easy to get you to play along. “I just wanna play with my little sister a little,” he breathes into your mouth, and you hum. You always hum so softly, like his word is truth, or gospel. “Just a little bit more, m’kay? Then you can go to bed.” The assurance calls for another drag of his name, that filthy mockery of the word ‘niichan’ that you have long mastered. It draws all the blood from his conscious thought to his hard cock as he grinds it against your pussy.

Picking at the bow of your panties, at your tits through your shirt- you curl under him and under his tongue, his hands, his twitching, leaking cock and balls like his own personal little toy. No, play-date. You always used to be his play-date growing up, and though the word has taken on -slightly more insidious- interpretations, it still fits you so well. Peeling your panties halfway down your legs to push the head of his cock into that dripping little slit is all too easy when you’re going “Ru nii, Meguru nii~” over and over so obliviously, unapologetically needy.

“You love your big brother?” He asks, and you nod, and it sends a spike of heat through his heart and makes him bottom out inside his own little sister with a groan. “I definitely love you. The most, love you- t-the most.” The covers won’t drown out the way you’re whining as he uses all his weight to fuck deep into you, your knees pressed to your ears and your tongue wrapped around his fingers. It doesn’t shield the squeaking of the bed and the rhythmic ‘pap, pap, pap’ of his balls hitting your ass each time he bottoms out. It doesn’t even cover the way he breathes your name back like he should, like he knows will get you there again and again.

But it’s not a lie when he leans down for a few seconds to pull your mouth back to his, tangle wet tongues and take what he needs from that pretty mouth of yours, and says, “You’re fine, just cum. Just cum on niichan's cock, you'll feel good. It’s okay. Mom wants her two babies to get along.”

#tw.incest #bachira meguru #bachira smut #bllk smut #bachira x reader #blue lock smut #bllk.txt #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.bachira

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alexgrin · 4 months

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To be honest, that moment in the movie killed me. I want to throw my au with the Creek and: Bra: Guys, we can't forget about Floyd. JD: Look, Branch is right. We're here for Floyd. Let's just get this and we can go our separate ways. Cl: Fine! Bra: Wait… What? JD: What? Mission's the mission.[chuckles] Cr: Wait… Are you serious now? JD: You didn't think we'd all live together, when this was all over did you? Bra: Oh, I'm sorry!..Is that funny to you? Cr: Branch, please, calm down… Bra: That I might want us to actually be a family again? Bru: Don't be a baby, Branch. (Branch wants to answer, but Creek answered first) Cr: Or what?! * I'm fed up with this. If the Branch closes again because of them, I won't be able to bring it back…* You were the first to behave childishly, leaving him alone. Cl: N-no… We left him with Grandma. Bra: Em… Floyd left me with Grandma, not you… Cr: Speaking of her, you didn't even ask the Branch how your grandma was doing. After your grandmother's death, Branch lived completely alone, deep underground, not wanting to see sunlight. Why did his boyfriend have to pull him out of depression, and not his family? Aren't you ashamed? (Everyone is in shock) JD: We… We didn't know. Branch it is true?.. (Branch looks away, clutching its childish drawing. Creek takes her boyfriend's hand). Cr: Are you blind? His color has returned, but there are still gray shades. (Silence) Cr: [Sighs] *Сalm down, Creek* If you think you're better than me or Branch… Believe me, no… You are real bastards… [Drooping gaze] Bra: What a fool… [sad laugh] (Squeezed his hand tighter)

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theloveliestembrace · 5 months

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Let it happen. | CL

Charles Leclerc/Reader

f1 masterlist

crossposted to ao3

Summary: The five times you meet Charles Leclerc. (The four times it doesn’t work out, the one time it might,)

Warnings: Non-explicit (but definitely inappropriate) teacher-student relationship

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Reincarnation au

W/C: 2.7k

A/N: What’s good people, I’m back again. This fic was very cinematic in my head (it still is), so I hope the writing captures that. Enjoy~

The first time you meet Charles Leclerc, he’s a barista at the coffeehouse down the road from your interning job. It’s a brief stint in the industry as you wait for a university acceptance letter, so you don’t expect to stay for long.

He’s sweet, beaming at you from over the counter nearly everyday, remembering your order before you’ve even asked for his name.

“Charles,” he says, sweetly accented, “my name is Charles Leclerc.”

That day, the flowing script of your name on the takeaway cup is accompanied with a ‘have dinner with me?’ and a smiley face. You picture him, eyebrows scrunched and eyes squinted in concentration, trying to write neatly on the curved surface, and smile.

As it turns out, Charles Leclerc is also waiting for a university acceptance letter, to a prestigious place in the United Kingdom for the study of Liberal Arts. He laughs awkwardly as he confesses, “My English is not so good yet, so I am worried they won’t find me so elegant.”

You bat it off as nonsense, pulling him in for a chaste kiss, whispering sincerely against his lips. “They’ll be foolish not to accept you, cheri.”

He’s a sweet relief from the bustle of your internship, where you’re surrounded by presumptuous old men and women who expect their coffee orders and bottles of perrier on their desk before eight. Your work in the fashion industry is not as glamorous a job as made out in the novels. The twelve centimeter heels you’re forced into daily pinch at your toes, and all your coworkers are size-zero hyenas, vying for a position. It takes all your energy to keep up.

Just the sight of him, though, waving cheerily in the morning as you run in for coffee pickup, hands in his pockets as he waits for you to get off work, the soft kisses when he walks you home. It’s easy to get lost in this, lost in him , fingers slotted between yours and a glass of wine shared between interlocked fingers. It’s a romance out of a metropolitan chick flick, something about finding love in the middle of modern day bustle, finding quiet in the loud city.

Everything falls apart when you get your acceptance letter. You haven’t talked about the inexorability of the end, not really. Sometimes Charles will bring it up half-heartedly, and so will you, but the inertia to dealing with your very real future is too great, and you both end up kissing on Charles’ sofa instead of facing the truth.

It culminates in one big fight, your fingernails pressed to draw blood, Charles bracing himself against the wall to prevent himself from losing his temper.

And it goes like every other fight in the movies, things like i was always going to go anyway and why don’t you just fucking go then, if you have nothing to stay for , and don’t hold me back just because you don’t have the certainty of getting into your course, Charles spinning around and saying i already got in, i’m hesitating because of you and the pressure in your chest growing so large it’s all you can do to stop your tears from running.

The movies lied to you. This is the part where Charles apologises and you hug and make up and you stay for each other. That’s the love story.

Instead, you say, go then, if staying for me burdens you so . And he goes, your apartment door slamming behind him.

You spend days wallowing in self-pity, avoiding the coffeehouse, running through the motions, thinking about the last ten months of your life, and make the decision when your hand reaches for a coffee cup that isn’t there.

You’ll stay, for Charles, because you love him, even if it isn’t like the movies. Because it isn’t like the movies, and you’ll love him even when the post-credits have rolled.

It is this that makes you run to the coffeehouse the next morning, forgoing an umbrella in your haste, soaking your blouse straight through. You yank the door open, waiting for the head of curls at the counter to look up so you can beg for a chance. Just one.

Instead, the older lady who owns the place, looks up and smiles sadly at you. “I’m sorry, kid. He flew off to the UK yesterday, he said you never called.”

And again, this doesn’t happen in the movies. The main character doesn’t step back out into the rain alone, heels soaked against the pavement, nor do they spend the next week waiting for the love of their life to call.

You hit reply on the acceptance email, and change your number to a local one when you land in America.

Somewhere on another continent, a call doesn’t get connected.

On the sixteenth of October, the people of Monaco are blessed with an announcement. A prince is born, the news reports.

Charles, they named him. Charles Leclerc.

In another ward down the hallway, another woman gives birth to a girl. The royal family hasn’t realised it yet, but down the hallway, is their future pr manager.

Your first day on the job is fraught with just about every roadblock you could face.

At four in the morning, one of your neighbour’s ridiculous scented candles tips over and sets enough things on fire to trip the fire alarm. Management ushers every single person in the vicinity out of the apartment building, where you stand shivering in your bathrobe.

A few hours later, your coffee machine breaks down before your espresso even finishes running.

Then, five minutes after you leave the apartment to catch your Uber, your heel breaks, so you’re forced to change your shoes and foot the late arrival fee on your car.

When you finally find the meeting room fifteen minutes after you were supposed to reach, you're very much on the verge of tears.

You’re met with a frowning Charles Leclerc, whose expression instantly evaporates into fondness when he recognises who’s at the door. He stands to bring you into a hug, as if you’d been friends since you were children. (You had been, of course, but you didn’t forget that he was a literal prince. Hugs are not commonplace.)

It’s an odd feeling, standing in front of the boy you’d known from birth, tasked with covering up his scandals and manufacturing relationships to keep him in the public eye.

It’s even odder to fall in love with him all over again, especially while you’re both poring over staged Instagram posts of him and Monaco’s richest bachelorettes. But Charles is so— good, easy to fall in love with, like those princes from storybooks. He laughs at exactly the right moments, cracks jokes that have you gasping for breath, charms you so thoroughly it’s almost embarrassing.

It falls into place like poetry, too many moments without supervision, secret smiles over the table, quiet mornings in the palace, hidden in his room. You pick up the closeness of your youth near flawlessly. Falling in love has never been this easy.

(It’ll never be this easy again.)

The end comes knocking in the form of his mother. Marriage. You almost choke on the enormity of it, caught in the noose of your own stupidity. Because that is your job, isn’t it? The prince is almost thirty, you are almost thirty, and this has always been the final point, of your job, of his scripted relationships.

You don’t even fight, which is kind of the worst part. A choice is presented to Charles, and he chooses.

It’s a special kind of cruelty, to stay. To sit with the photographers and videographers and event crew and wedding planner, poring over fabrics and angles, as if it’s your fucking honour to plan what’s set to be the greatest union in Monaco for the next decade.

You were wrong. The worst part is standing at the fringes, in your blue dress, watching the love of your life slide a ring onto another finger and speak the vows that were meant for youyouyou . The worst part is knowing the photos will be beautiful, because you planned them yourself.

The worst part is knowing there is no universe where he chooses you.

Your new French Literature professor is… really fucking hot. You’re not just saying this because he’s a decade older than you, or because he’s at least three decades younger than the guy who used to teach the class. He’s just, objectively of course, a really attractive man.

The way his accent rolls off his tongue when he says “Charles, my name is Charles Leclerc.” definitely doesn’t help. In your periphery, you see the girl seated next to you furiously typing on her phone, with caps and exclamation marks and sweating emojis. You can’t even blame her.

And it’s almost criminally obvious, the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your open polo, the way he lingers on the syllables of your name when he calls on you to answer in class.

It’s subtle enough to not warrant any accusations of misconduct, but not subtle enough to avoid the envious stares of the girls (and boys) in your class. You’re unbothered, of course, given that he hasn’t actually made a move, but also the fact that he wears his wedding ring all the time.

And if you start wearing tighter shirts and shorter skirts to class, just to see his breath hitch when you uncross your legs just so, well that’s nobody’s business but your own.

It’s almost cliche, the way your little game unfolds. You make sure to book the latest possible consultation slots with him, in a cute ensemble and flawless makeup, toting a copy of Les Miserables as if you’re actually struggling with the material.

It’s fun, to rile him up, watch his tongue slide against his lower lip as he looks at you from across the desk. You don’t typically make a habit of seducing professors, especially the married ones, but you figure it’ll probably make a great story for your grandkids, or something. He holds out much longer than you thought, so much so that the illusion of needing aid in your best subject starts to grate on you. Still, the sight of his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves, or the line of his throat when he sips water during lectures keeps you hooked.

When he finally bends you over his desk, you’re almost disappointed that the game has ended. The imprint of his wedding ring stays on your waist for days. Your friend tuts nervously when you return back late, murmurs something about morals and regretting your decisions and something else you tune out.

Un brin de folie egaye la vie, right? Some madness will brighten your life. You continue ignoring her.

It’s only after months of your routine that you can form the all-important question, perched on his lap in his (locked) office, “Why cheat on your wife?” And the room is instantly suffused with silence. You expect him to tell you to get out or something of the sort, but instead he hums thoughtfully, shifting you further onto his thighs.

He’s silent for a few seconds, running fingers through your hair, “Why do we do anything?” You snort at the obvious deflection, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“On n’aime que ce qu’on possède pas tout entier. Proust says we love only what we do not have entirely.” You giggle a little at that, “you love me because you cannot have me?” He sighs against your cheek, “something like that, yes.”

In the end, it ends much cleaner than affairs like this tend to. You graduate top of the class, watch Charles and his beautiful wife at the ceremony, and laugh a little meanly at how oblivious her smile is. How he watches you, still, as you give the valedictorian speech, the smirk on his face as you thank your professors with false fervour.

And then, one last time for the road, in the handicap bathroom where the bustle of the hall isn’t quite muted, breaths mingling hot in the stale air. A kiss, almost chaste, and you leave.

Your grandkids howl with laughter at the story, nearly seventy years down the road. You smile, think about green eyes and rolled up sleeves. Another life, maybe.

You’re still not used to the wag lifestyle. It’s one thing to be recognised in Monaco, another to be Il Predestinato’s girlfriend. It’s almost obscene, the red that greets you down every hallway, the way you bite your tongue and watch the team fuck him over every weekend. The way the crowds chant his name; Charles, they scream, Charles Leclerc.

It’s not like you haven’t earned a place in the paddock. You’ve done the work, the pr activities, the carefully curated soft launches, the jet lag, the helmet kisses and the careful, careful styling. You’ll always be silent and pretty, always smiling and skinny and happy for him, existing to prove something.

The point is, it isn’t that you don’t love Charles anymore. It isn’t that he’s neglectful and distant (he is), or that you’re unhappy with the constant scrutiny and ever changing time zones (you are). You can swallow these things, breathe deep and let it settle.

Mangia questa minestra o saltar questa finestra; eat the soup or jump out of the window. Accept things for what they are, don’t hurt over things that cannot be changed.

And it really does feel like nothing will ever change, watching the man you love turn into a beating husk, consumed with his want. A championship, a victory, draped in enough red to drown you both, a hundred years of history. Nothing will change, you will always be the girlfriend, the girl in-the-pictures. You can feel the shadow of Charles’ name as heavily as he feels Ferrari’s. That will never change.

The championship is a hollow victory, when it comes. You and Charles have devolved across the year into a state of a perpetual tense silence, intercut only with the curl of his fingers around your waist when the cameras come flashing, and drawn out, passive aggressive conversations.

You begin to fly out less and less, blame it on the job you pretend to hate for Charles’ sake. Slowly, you learn to be on your own, find your way around loneliness, spaces within yourself previously occupied with your boyfriend. You toss about the idea of him cheating on you while you miss his races, and find the thought less impossible and less painful each time.

By the time you see him again in Abu Dhabi, the Monacan flag wrapped around his shoulders, fingers pointed to the sky, you only feel affection for the man you would’ve given everything up for a year ago. The knowledge squeezes painfully in your chest.

You reach for him in the cooldown room, wince at how unfamiliar his hands are to you now, look him in the eyes, “It’s been over for a long time, hasn’t it, cheri?” Tears rise unbidden within you when he nods, eyes wet. You clasp his hands tighter, relish the feeling of his fingers against yours one more time, “I want you to remember the best parts of us,” you sniffle lightly, attempt a smile, “not the end. I want you to remember that I am always proud of you.”

The room is quiet. He leans against your shoulder, for a moment you are both twenty-one again, guileless. The enormity of what you are losing has settled in your bones.

The soup is unassuming on the table. You choose the free fall from the window.

The new doctor is cute, in a puppyish sort of way. Charles watches the way you interact with all your new coworkers, smiling and shaking hands, the way you laugh at a joke Max just made.

You come up in front of him, and falter, tilting your head like a startled animal. “Have we met?” The deja vu hits him so hard his head spins, shaking his head at your question anyway.

He kisses your outstretched hand, soft under his lips, revels briefly in your furious blushing. His mother likes to tell him; doctors only date other doctors. He intends to test the theory.

“My name is Charles,” he says, “Charles Leclerc.”

#f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut

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akkaweo-akkaweo · 10 months

Text

Treatment

Jeong Jinsol/Jinsoul x M!reader

Tags: light edging, sorta JOI?, facial

WC: 1.3k

A/N: this photoset legitimately made me feel things so allow me to take you on that same journey. enjoy the different structure of this work.

—————

After a tiring day of work — presentations, meetings, the usual — you plop yourself on the bed, with barely enough energy to take your clothes off. You're staring at the ceiling for maybe two, three minutes before you hear the front door beep open and the unmistakable clacking of heels on tile rings around the dead silent studio.

"Hey baby," Jinsol said softly. "Busy day?"

You grunt in acknowledgement. Jinsol may have looked stunning today, as she always did, but you were way too spent to show it more meaningfully. She'd understand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look sick," she said, worry in her voice.

"I'm fine, babe. You should rest too. I'll make space on the bed for–"

"Hmm, this won't do. I've seen this before. You seem to have a buildup of sorts," she cut you off.

"What are you talking about, Jinsol?"

The whole while you've been staring up at the ceiling, you fail to notice Jinsol kneeling in front of your legs dangling by the edge of the bed. The only way you noticed was because of the confusion from her last statement.

"See? So much negative energy stuck in your head, you can't even see or hear properly. Luckily," she says as she starts unbuckling your belt, "I think I know just the solution."

You don't exactly have an explanation for it, but the more and more Jinsol undid your pants, you could feel yourself getting hard already. A quick draw of your boxers revealed your member, sprung up and hard.

"Ah, just as I thought. It's all stuck in here," she said, with a light tap to your shaft.

"Aigo, Jinsol, I said I'm too tired for this...," you say, trying to hide your shame of getting aroused so quickly.

Jinsol raises an eyebrow at you, then shrugs. "Okay. If you say so." She gets up and starts walking away from the bed, except you notice the way she's walking: an extra swing of her wide hips, slow enough to make you do nothing but stare, still fully erect.

She turns back, looking at you with a tempting gaze.

"You sure you're so tired? Doesn't seem like it to me," she teased

"Okay, fine, Jinsol. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so–"

"No, it's okay. I understand," she replied, a tinge of singsong-y taunting audible in her tone. "You're not asking for it, so perhaps I'll leave you to it."

Again, unprompted, the taunting made you twitch in arousal.

Your vision tunnels, honing in on Jinsol's face: her porcelain skin, the shape of her eyes, her luscious lips — all the perfect seductive mix. You're pretty sure you've been staring at her way too long to be subtle, because Jinsol doubles down on her charade, tilting more of her shoulder away from you, hiding her body's curves around her tight dress, yet also showing the almost bare skin on her back.

"You sure you don't want this?," she teased, no subtlety on her end either.

That was enough to set you off. With a newfound energy, you jump off the bed, walking briskly to her, your surprisingly still hard dick swinging around — at this point, you didn't care. You just wanted Jinsol, and to humor her so-called treatment for your situation.

"You're such a goddamn tease, Jinsol," you growl under your breath as you wrap your arms around her waist. You pelt her neck and shoulders with deep, sensual kisses, made much easier with how little cloth obstructs your mouth. She lets out a soft hum as you continue, and as both your hands stray to her core and her chest respectively, you can feel — or rather, don't feel — any undergarments under her dress, evidenced by the tiny bumps forming on her chest and the warmth between her legs.

"Are you sure it's me who needs this treatment?," you taunt.

"Oh, yes, it's all for you, baby," she growls. "This is part of it."

She turns around and kneels once again before you, her face right in front of your dick, her breath close enough to send shivers down your spine.

"How are you so good at–"

"Tsk, just shut up and let me work," she barked. "You talk too much. All the cum built up in here," she continued, grabbing your balls, "is making you a lot dumber than usual."

You're ready to open your mouth in protest, but you stop yourself. She's right — the last time you actually had time to fuck your girlfriend was probably a month ago, on your monthsary. She definitely had a point, because she probably wanted this just as much as you needed it. Besides, how could you say anything when Jinsol's sucking was enough to make you speechless?

She knew exactly how to work you: she would take in all of your head, then midway to your girth, then all the way to the base, several times until your moans of ecstasy got loud enough. Then she'd take you out of her mouth and keep you aroused, kissing your length and licking your slit. Her hands weren't idle either: they moved between massaging your balls and stroking just the base of your cock. And in just a few minutes, you could feel the cum build up at your base.

"Fuck, Jinsol, you're gonna make me–"

She leaves you hanging completely, causing a sharp pain as you feel your orgasm denied.

"Sorry baby, for this to work, you gotta do it yourself," she pouted. "So will you do it for me? Please, baby?," she added, with a little whine in her voice. Fuck, she's irresistible.

You start to stroke yourself, and you see Jinsol adjust herself to rub her clit and squeeze her tits. "Yes baby," she moaned, "I love watching you stroke your cock for me. I love seeing it twitch and squirm for me. Is it all mine, baby?"

"Fuck... yes it is Jinsol... Tell me how much you want it," you beg, yearning to get off from her sensual squeals.

"I want it inside me baby... I want you to ram it inside me, all the way in. And I want your cum, all over my face," she begs. She tilts her head up, to show all of her face before your eyes.

Jinsol stared at you with hungry eyes, screaming for your release just as much as her own. Her mouth was slightly agape, ready to open it wide for your seed. And just the way she presented herself to you — should you miss her mouth, you'd still paint her face, and she'd enjoy it all the same.

"I want your cum, baby. I want it all over me. Please give it to me," she begged on.

You felt the cum welling inside your shaft start to rush forward; you were ready for release.

"I'm gonna cum, Jinsol!"

She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue; just the view of her being in full display, ready for you, was enough to send you over. You spurt all over her face, a lot more than you anticipated, and aimed the last few strings directly onto her tongue. She closed her mouth and gave a deep gulp; as she did, she closed her eyes, satisfied and satiated. Whatever strings she could scoop up with her fingers, she did and licked it all up.

"Told you you had a backup," she said, still licking clean the tips of her fingers.

Honestly, you thought you'd be tired by then. But watching the hottest woman alive love the taste of you was a turn-on even you couldn't switch off.

"Oh, you're still hard?," she cooed. "Guess there's still a lot more in there."

"Ready for round two?"

—————

#girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader #loona smut #jinsoul smut

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