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cloudtransprncy · 1 day ago

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Dumb/Problem pt. 2

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader ft. Eunbi Pt 2 of Dumb.

Being a good boyfriend at a party? Boooring. Letting your girlfriend’s best friend drag you upstairs to fuck? Awh shit here we go again.

Her lips stretch around your cock, wet but controlled. Perfect, but not desperate. No mess, no frantic need to take more than she can handle. Just slow, deliberate motions, the kind that look good in the mirror she angled herself toward before she started.

Fuck, why can't she just let go for once?

It feels good, you admit, but not as good as it could. Not as good as it should.

Eunbi keeps her hands to herself. No stroking, no slick trails of saliva over her fingers. Just her mouth, just the steady rhythm of her tongue gliding against your shaft, the soft press of her lips forming a seal as she bobs down, then up again. It's careful. Too careful.

You want to tell her to stop thinking about how it looks. To stop being so fucking pretty about it. But you don't.

Her room smells like fresh laundry and vanilla lotion. The soft cotton of her bed sheets beneath you feels clean, untouched, like everything she owns. The dim light from her nightstand lamp casts a glow over her skin, making her look softer, younger. Her sweater is slipping off one shoulder, delicate pearl necklace resting against her collarbone—a birthday gift from her parents that she never takes off, even now.

She looks like she belongs in a romance movie, not on her knees with your cock between her lips.

Everything in her room is carefully arranged, intentional. Cream-colored sheets, layered blankets with knit textures, a few decorative pillows placed neatly against the headboard. A woven rug spreads beneath the bed, soft against your feet. No clutter, no mess. A single shelf above her desk holds a couple of books—her worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" with color-coded sticky notes peeking out, her planner filled with perfectly-lettered assignments and deadlines, a small potted succulent she waters every Sunday, and a framed photo of her and her friends at homecoming—perfectly centered.

Not a single thing out of place. Not even when she's doing this.

She has plushies, but only a few, lined up neatly on a chair in the corner rather than scattered around the bed. The Rilakkuma bear you won her at the fair sits front and center—a trophy of your relationship, displayed like evidence. The walls are warm-toned, decorated with woven macramé and string lights draped just right, giving the room a soft, effortless aesthetic. Everything in here feels curated, thought-out, a space meant to be calm, peaceful. A room that doesn't belong in the same world as you know who.

She looks good like this. Hair neatly tucked behind her ear, cheeks hollowed out in a way that makes her look like some perfectly curated fantasy. The kind of girl you bring home, not sneak around with.

This should be enough. This should be all you want. So why isn't it?

She makes it look effortless, makes it look like something out of a scene meant to be remembered, meant to be admired. But that's the problem. It's pretty—too much so. Like she's thinking about how this looks, not how it feels.

You want to grab her hair, push her down, make her take more—see if she can let go for once. But you already know she won't.

She's kneeling between your legs, jaw working as she takes you in again, but there's a hesitance. A limit. She won't spit. Won't let it get messy. Won't let it drip past her lips or smear across her chin. Won't use her hands, won't pump you in time with her mouth, won't let her own arousal turn this into something real.

It's a performance. A perfect, practiced performance.

She's soft. Gentle. Controlled. Not like her.

Not like Chaewon, who'd already have you up against the wall by now, who'd have spit running down her chin and wouldn't give a single fuck.

You tell yourself it should be enough. That it feels good. That you should just take what she's giving you. But some part of you—some selfish, impatient part—already knows where your mind is going next.

She just wants to be good at it. Not filthy, not desperate—just good. And that's the problem, isn't it?

You're frustrated.

"Come on," you murmur, voice thick, pleading. "Just a little deeper."

Your fingers sink into her hair, gentle but insistent, urging. Not forcing—never forcing—but hoping she'll listen, that she'll feel the way your body aches for more, that she'll give you more.

Eunbi shakes her head. A small, simple movement. No.

Your stomach tightens. "Please?" You swallow hard, trying again, voice quieter this time. "Just for a second."

Jesus, you're practically begging now. Has it really come to this?

She doesn't stop, doesn't even pause—her tongue moves over you, warm and slow, dragging along the underside, circling the tip, keeping her rhythm neat and measured. She kisses the sides, lets her lips glide over your length, keeps her pace controlled. Too controlled.

It's good. She's good. Gorgeous, poised, deliberate—like everything about her. Her dark lashes flutter as she looks up at you, the golden light from her bedside lamp soft against her skin, casting her in something warm, something that makes her feel untouchable. Like she belongs on a canvas, not on her knees.

But it's not enough.

You let out a breath, low, shaky. "Eunbi, please," you whine, shifting, trying not to thrust too much into her mouth, trying to keep still, trying to let her set the pace. "I need more. Please, just—"

"I said no."

Her voice is quiet but firm, steady, like she's not even considering it. Like it's a boundary so deeply ingrained she doesn't even feel the need to explain. No.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those doe eyes that normally make you melt. "I don't like when you push like this," she adds, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "You know that."

Fuck. Now you feel like shit for even asking.

You groan, tilting your head back against her pillows, burning with frustration, trying to fight the desperation curling inside you. She's so beautiful. The way she looks like this, her lips wet, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder, the way her touch is careful, precise

—

But it's not dirty. It's not messy. It's not what you need.

What's wrong with you that this perfect girl isn't enough?

She stops before you finish.

Just pulls away, composed, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her thumb before smoothing a hand over her hair, like she's fixing herself in a mirror, like she's resetting.

You let out a breath, half a groan, running a hand over your face, still aching, still tense, still fucking needing—

"Can I at least fuck you?"

It comes out rough, raw, too exposed, but you don't care. You need it. Need her. Need something.

Eunbi exhales, standing up, brushing invisible dust off her sweater, already moving on. Already done.

"I need to study. The AP Bio exam is next week, and I still haven't gone through the last chapter." She gestures to the color-coded study guide on her desk, sticky notes and highlighters arranged by subject. "You know how important this is for my scholarship application."

Like it's obvious. Like it's the only thing that matters now. Like you weren't just in her mouth, half-delirious, seconds away from losing it.

Right. The perfect student. The perfect girlfriend. Never lets anything get in the way of her future—not even you.

You stare, blinking, trying to catch up, trying to process how she does this—how she always does this.

Your head falls back against the bed. A groan rumbles from your throat, frustrated, unsatisfied.

"We haven't fucked in days," you mutter, half a whine, half an accusation.

She glances at you, unimpressed. "Maybe you should be studying too." She pauses, softening slightly. "Your Calc grade isn't exactly where it needs to be for State, is it?"

Low blow. But she's not wrong.

Then she picks up her laptop, flips it open, and just like that, you're forgotten. The light from the screen illuminates her face, highlighting her focused expression—the tiny furrow between her brows that appears when she's concentrating. Even frustrated, you can't help but notice how pretty she looks like this, how dedicated.

Your breath comes slow, heavy. You stare at the ceiling, still pulsing, still hard, still aching with nowhere to put it.

This isn't working. Not today, not anymore.

Then—

Your phone buzzes.

You reach for it, thumb sliding over the screen, hardly thinking, barely hoping.

A message.

From her.

But not under her name. You're not that dumb.

Your stomach tightens, pulse kicking up.

Chaewon.

"You and Eunbi are coming to Yena's party, right?"

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you finally type, "Idk, Eunbi's being lame."

Fuck, that feels disloyal. But it's true, isn't it? You almost laugh at the absurdity—worried about a text when you've had your cock inside her best friend. Your moral compass is seriously fucked.

The reply comes fast.

"Awh, what? She didn't give you what you wanted again?"

You don't answer. You don't need to. Your silence is enough—it always is with Chaewon. She reads you like a book, knows you in ways Eunbi never tries to.

A moment later, another message from her.

"I always give you what you want."

The frustration lingers, simmering under your skin. But now, it's shifting—turning into something else entirely.

You shouldn't answer. You should put the phone down. Focus on Eunbi. Be better.

But your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and you know exactly what you'll type next.

Chaewon is already on her knees. Mouth open, spit trailing from her lips.

This isn't a performance. This isn't careful. This is fucking chaos.

It's messy. So fucking messy. Drool pools at the corners of her mouth, her throat taking your cock fully. She doesn't just take it—she devours it. Not one controlled motion, not a single thought about how it looks—just raw, desperate need.

So different from Eunbi's careful rhythm, her pristine technique. This isn't romance. This is hunger.

The bass from the speakers rattles the walls, the muffled sound of people shouting over music bleeding through the door but distant—because you're upstairs, in Yena's family bathroom, the one she reluctantly said people could use if they absolutely needed to. "Just don't go in any bedrooms," she'd warned everyone at the start. "My parents would kill me."

Downstairs is chaos—bodies pressed together, drinks sloshing, someone shrieking with laughter while Yena yells over the music. An hour in, Chaewon caught your eye from across the room, a slow, knowing smirk curling at her lips. She tilted her head toward the stairs, eyebrow raised in silent question. You didn't hesitate. You followed, slipping up the forbidden staircase when Yena wasn't looking.

Eunbi would never. Not at a party. Not with people around. Not in a place you weren't supposed to be.

And now you're here.

Her hands stroke your cock in time with the bob of her head, tight and slick, not caring where the spit lands. It drips from her fingers, slides down her wrist, pools on the floor beneath her knees. She fucking enjoys this. Loves the way your cock twitches in her grip, loves the way your breathing turns ragged as she ruins you with her mouth.

You watch, mesmerized, as she pulls back to the tip, lets saliva gather on her tongue, then sinks back down in one fluid motion. The contrast of her lipstick—still perfectly applied, dark against her skin—makes the whole thing feel filthier somehow. That perfect makeup, ruined by what she's doing to you.

She moans around you, the vibration sending a shudder up your spine. Her eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze as she takes you deeper, deeper than anyone should be able to. When she reaches the base, she swallows—her throat constricting around you in waves that make your vision blur.

Where Eunbi keeps her hands to herself, Chaewon uses everything—fingers, palms, nails dragging just hard enough to make you shiver. No limits. No hesitation.

Your jeans and boxers are shoved down to your ankles, forgotten, useless. You're exposed, vulnerable, and fuck—she knows it.

She pulls off you with a wet pop, her lips slick, cheeks flushed. Then, with that wicked little smirk, she grips your cock and slaps it against her lips, her tongue flicking out between each tap. The sound is obscene in the quiet bathroom—wet, needy, filthy.

"She doesn't do this for you, does she?" she murmurs, voice wrecked, lips glossy with a mix of saliva and you.

The way she says "she"—like Eunbi is a concept, not a person. Like she's something to be pitied for not knowing how to make you fall apart.

You can barely think, barely breathe, but she doesn't give you time to recover.

"I missed your cock," she purrs, stroking you slow, teasing. "Forgot how fucking big you are."

Her thumb circles the head, spreading the wetness there, toying with the sensitive spot just beneath it. Your hips jerk involuntarily, and she laughs—a low, satisfied sound.

She leans in, but instead of taking you back into her mouth, she runs her tongue along the underside, tracing the vein from base to tip in one long, slow drag. When she reaches the head, she swirls her tongue around it, then blows cool air against the wetness, making you hiss through clenched teeth.

Eunbi would never talk like this. Would never say the word "cock" like it's candy on her tongue. Would never play with you like a cat with a mouse.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not pushing, just holding on as she continues her assault on your senses. She responds by taking just the tip between her lips, sucking hard, then releasing it with another obscene pop. Again and again, she does this—never giving you the full warmth of her mouth, just teasing, edging, driving you mad.

"You want more?" she asks, letting your cock rest heavily against her cheek, leaving a wet smear across her skin. "Tell me how badly you want it."

Your breath catches. Words fail you. She waits, patient in her cruelty, one eyebrow raised.

"Please," you finally manage, the word raw and desperate.

She rewards you by taking you deep again—so deep you feel the back of her throat, feel her gag slightly before adjusting. But she doesn't pull back. Instead, she stays there, swallowing around you, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from the effort. The sight alone nearly finishes you—Chaewon, kneeling before you, taking you so deep it hurts, mascara starting to run.

She lowers her mouth again—but not where you expect.

You thud back against the counter as her lips part over your balls, warm, wet, sucking soft before her tongue drags slow and filthy along the skin. You choke on a moan, hands gripping the edge of the sink, barely keeping yourself upright.

You'd never even dream of asking Eunbi for this. The thought of her perfect mouth anywhere but where she decides it should be feels impossible.

The risk? Insane.

Eunbi is downstairs. Completely oblivious, probably sipping whatever drink Yena handed her, scanning the room for you. Probably checking her watch, wondering if you're just talking to someone. Trusting you, even now.

Your moral compass isn't just fucked. It's shattered.

A burst of laughter outside the door—someone else who snuck upstairs. Footsteps. Then—a knock.

You freeze.

Your stomach drops. Chaewon? She just grins. Breathless, messy, still on her knees.

"Occupied," she calls out, voice sweet, almost sing-song.

Where Eunbi would panic, straighten her clothes, check her appearance—Chaewon thrives on the risk.

A pause. The shuffle of footsteps. Then the voices move away, back toward the stairs—likely another couple looking for privacy in the off-limits zone, disappointed to find the bathroom taken.

She presses her hands against your thighs, digging in just enough to ground you, before tilting her head up. The bathroom light catches the deep brown of her hair, the strands sleek and polished where they frame her face.

A weeks ago, the blonde had made her look sharp, dangerous—but this? This soft brown, paired with the glitter dusting her collarbones, the sequined dress clinging to her body, the way she looks up at you with that expression—

She doesn't just turn heads anymore. She kills.

And she's about to kill you, too.

Suddenly, she takes you even deeper.

Your head slams back against the mirror as she forces herself down, throat tightening, swallowing around you until her nose brushes your skin. She stays there for a moment, the heat, the pressure, unbearable—before pulling back just enough to suck in a desperate breath, spit dripping from her chin. Then she does it again. And again. Wrecking you.

Her hands are everywhere now—gripping your thighs, sliding up to your stomach, tracing the line of muscle that disappears beneath her lips. She moans around you, like she's getting off on this too, like having you in her mouth is as good for her as it is for you.

The wet sounds fill the bathroom—obscene, filthy noises that would make anyone flush with embarrassment. But not her. She revels in it, makes it even messier, even louder.

Everything Eunbi wouldn't do. Everything you begged for earlier. Everything you needed.

Your legs nearly give out, knees weak, hands scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto. You fist her hair, not to control, just to survive.

She pulls back just enough to take a breath, your cock still resting on her tongue, before diving back down. She establishes a rhythm now—brutal, relentless, taking you to the edge and keeping you there. Each time she reaches the base, she swallows, throat constricting around you in waves that make your vision blur.

When you're close—so close you can barely stand it—she feels it, knows it from the tension in your thighs, the way your breath hitches. And she pulls back, letting cool air hit wet skin, making you gasp at the sudden change.

"Not yet," she whispers, stroking you with a tight grip that's just shy of enough. "I'm not done playing with you."

Before you can protest, she's sucking at the head again, tongue flicking across the slit, gathering the wetness there. Her free hand slides lower, cupping your balls, rolling them gently between her fingers.

The dual sensation has you seeing stars, biting your lip to keep from crying out. Your hips jerk forward, seeking more, but she controls the pace now, keeping you right at the edge.

Chaewon pulls off with a gasp, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, a strand of spit snapping between her lips and your cock. Her gaze flicks up to yours, dark, knowing. Smug.

"I want more," she murmurs, voice rough, fingers curling around the waistband of your jeans. She pulls them up for you, tugging your boxers into place, smoothing the fabric down over your still-hard cock.

Not "I need to study." Not "Maybe later." Just raw, honest want.

Then, like nothing happened, she turns to the sink. Washes her hands, pats her lips dry, eyes catching yours in the mirror. That smirk still lingers.

She doesn't ask if you're following her. She knows you are.

With Eunbi, you follow rules. With Chaewon, you just do.

Chaewon grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the door, slipping out of the bathroom like a ghost. The upstairs hallway is empty—everyone else obediently staying downstairs like Yena instructed, the music and voices a distant roar beneath your feet. Up here, it's just the two of you, the dim light causing the hallway to be bathed in shadows.

The forbidden zone. Where you definitely shouldn't be. Where Eunbi would never go.

She finds an empty bedroom—one of the guest rooms, judging by the neutral decor. Pushes the door open. Steps inside.

And you go with her. Even knowing Eunbi is somewhere downstairs, even knowing what this makes you, you follow Chaewon without hesitation.

Because Eunbi gives you what you should want. But Chaewon gives you what you need.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the chaos downstairs. Neither of you bother with the light switch. The only illumination comes from the moonlight cutting through the blinds, painting soft silver lines across her skin. It's enough. You see her clearly. She sees you. You both know exactly what you want. The music is a distant thrum beneath your feet, the muffled sounds of voices and laughter nothing more than background noise.

Chaewon doesn't wait. She shoves you back onto the bed, her hands pressed against your chest as she straddles your lap, her weight sinking onto you like she belongs there. Her mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and urgency, a clash of lips and teeth, her breath warm and sharp with the faint taste of alcohol.

She kisses like she does everything—reckless, unrestrained, like she has something to prove. Her tongue flicks against yours, demanding, teasing, making you groan against her lips. Your fingers find her thighs, gripping, kneading the soft skin before sliding up, tracing the curve of muscle until they meet the hem of her dress. You push it higher, inch by inch, the sequined fabric rough against your palms, a contrast to the impossibly smooth skin beneath.

She doesn't stop you. She only presses closer, grinding against you in a slow, deliberate roll of her hips that has your cock straining painfully against your jeans. The heat of her is everywhere, suffocating, intoxicating. You can feel the dampness of her through the layers of fabric, her body already responding, already wanting.

Your bodies remember each other. Like muscle memory. Like addiction.

Your hands drift up, slipping beneath the fabric, palms mapping the dip of her abdomen, the delicate ridge of her ribs, the smooth arch of her waist. She's warm, taut, her body tight beneath your touch, and fuck—you've wanted this, wanted her, for far too long. The softness of her skin contrasts with the firmness of muscle beneath—every inch of her body a testament to perfect discipline, now coming apart under your hands.

"You fucking love my body don’t ya?" she whispers, arching into your touch. "You must love how tight I am."

The kiss breaks, her breath fanning against your lips, both of you panting. You lift a hand to your mouth, never taking your eyes off her as you drag your tongue over two fingers, wetting them slowly, deliberately. The moonlight catches the gleam of saliva on your skin.

Her gaze drops, watching you, pupils dark, mouth slightly parted. She doesn't say anything, but the way she looks at you, the way her hips press down just a little harder, says enough. Her breathing changes—shortened, expectant—a minute shift that only happens when she knows what's coming.

You reach between her legs.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingers find lace, the damp fabric clinging to her, heat radiating through it. You push it aside, and the moment your fingers slide over her, you feel it—slick, dripping, obscene. The wetness coats your fingertips instantly, spreading as you press in, parting her folds. The sensation is electric—soft, swollen flesh giving way beneath your touch, the slickness making everything frictionless, perfect.

A filthy squelch fills the air, louder than it should be, and your stomach tightens. She's so fucking wet, soaking for you, sticky and warm, coating your skin like she's been waiting for this all night. The evidence of her arousal is undeniable—a primal, visceral response that no amount of performance could fake.

A groan rips from your throat before you can stop it. "Fuck."

Chaewon smirks against your jaw, lips dragging over the sensitive skin there, breath hot and teasing. "You hear how wet I am for you? Nobody gets me this fucking soaked."

You push two fingers inside her, easy, effortless. She gasps, her walls clenching tight around you, slick and needy, sucking your fingers deeper. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails biting into your skin as she rocks against you, fucking herself onto your hand, chasing more. You can feel the flutter of her inner muscles, the way they grip and release around your fingers, drawing you in deeper with each pulse.

Each roll of her hips makes it filthier, makes the sound of it wetter, the obscene noise of her arousal filling the dimly lit room. The slick noises of your fingers moving inside her cut through the distant bass from downstairs, somehow more real than anything happening at the party. There's something primal about that sound—wet, hungry, honest.

Her lips ghost over your ear, voice rough, desperate. "Been thinking about your cock stretching me open all fucking night."

Your cock throbs painfully in response, stiff and aching, pressing insistently against the confines of your jeans. She feels it, of course she does. And then—

She reaches down.

She pulls you out, fingers curling around your length, slow and deliberate, stroking just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. The contrast of her small hand wrapped around you, her grip firm but playful, makes your stomach clench. She watches your face as she does it, reading every twitch of your brows, every sharp inhale. She knows exactly what she's doing to you. The cool air of the room hits your heated skin, making you even more aware of how hard you are, how desperate.

One touch and you're already at her mercy.

Your hand is still between her legs, fingers coated in her slick, but before you can push deeper, she bats it away, shaking her head. She wants control, and you give it to her, because there's no other option. You're completely at her mercy.

She drags the tip of your cock against her folds, rolling her hips just enough to spread her arousal over you, painting you with her wetness. The sensation is maddening, teasing, an unbearable heat that has your fingers tightening on her hips, clutching her like she's the only thing tethering you to the earth. The silken glide of her against you, the warmth, the slickness—it's a cruel preview of what waits just beyond.

The way she uses her own wetness to slick you up. No hesitation. No shame. Just raw fucking need.

She hums, pleased, as she does it again. Slow. Excruciating. The head of your cock catches against her entrance, almost slipping in before she pulls away again, denying you both what you want. The tease is calculated, precise—she knows exactly how to wind you up, how to make you desperate.

You groan, forehead dropping against her shoulder, breathing hard. The teasing is torture.

She giggles, dark and amused. "You always get so needy for me." She grinds against you again, coating your cock with her slick. "Bet she doesn't fuck you like I do."

Then, in one smooth, fluid motion, she sinks down.

Your breath stutters, a guttural moan ripped from your throat as she takes you to the base in one go, her walls gripping you like a vice, hot and suffocating, squeezing you so tight it borders on unbearable. The sudden engulfing heat is a shock to your system—going from the cool air to the burning, tight clutch of her body in an instant.

"Fuck," she gasps, voice breaking. "So big. You stretch me so fucking good."

Your head falls back, eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching your cock disappear into her slick heat, swallowed by her perfect, tight body. The visual alone nearly makes you come—the contrast of her against you, the way she stretches around your thickness, the gleam of her arousal coating both of you. There's something hypnotic about the junction where your bodies connect, something primal and satisfying about the visual proof of your joining.

Chaewon trembles, her thighs flexing as she adjusts, muscles taut, abs tightening as she takes you fully, stretching around you. Her mouth falls open, breath hitching, a choked moan slipping free. The moonlight catches the sweat beginning to form along her collarbones, making her skin gleam like she's been dusted with silver.

She bites her lip, eyes hazy as she exhales slow, feeling every inch of you inside her. "oh my god," she whispers, nails digging into your chest, anchoring herself against you as she shudders, as she finally lets herself feel it—the fullness, the way you stretch her open.

You barely hold yourself together. She's so tight, so warm, so fucking perfect, gripping you like she was made for this. For a moment, neither of you move. It's too much, too good, too fucking overwhelming. You can feel the subtle pulsing of her inner muscles as they adjust to your size, the minute tremors running through her thighs as she holds herself still.

Then she does.

A slow, torturous roll of her hips. Making sure you feel every inch of her. The movement causes a ripple effect through her body—the subtle flex of her abdominal muscles, the shift in her posture, the way her breath catches when you hit a spot deeper inside her.

The way she works her body. The absolute control she has. Like she's been studying exactly how to make you lose your mind.

Your fingers press bruises into her skin, trying to ground yourself as she starts to move, her control unwavering, her pace teasing. She isn't rushing—this is for her first. The slow drag of your cock inside her, the way her walls flutter each time she lifts herself just a little before sinking back down, inch by inch, stretching around you over and over.

Her nails rake over your neckt, leaving faint red trails in their wake, legs trembling slightly as she builds her rhythm, grinding first, then lifting herself higher, letting herself adjust before coming back down, harder. You can see the concentration on her face, the focus as she finds the angle that works best, the depth that makes her breath stutter.

"Shit! You feel so fucking good inside me," she breathes, voice breaking with each thrust.

Then she lifts all the way up, just enough that only the tip remains inside her. And then she drops.

You groan, your hands flying to her hips, helping, guiding, lifting her before dropping her back down onto your cock, bouncing her, feeding her exactly what she wants. The feeling of her coming down around you again and again is almost too much—each time she sinks onto you, her pussy seems to grip you tighter, wetter, hungrier. The impact of her body meeting yours sends shockwaves through both of you, the wet slap of skin on skin adding to the symphony of sounds filling the room.

She cries out, her head tipping back, letting herself get lost in it. Her thighs flex, her abs tightening each time she slams down, using the strength in her body to fuck herself onto you harder, faster. You feel everything—the tightness, the heat, the sheer hunger behind every movement. The sequins of her dress catch the moonlight as it shifts around her body, like she's wrapped in stars, coming apart in your hands.

This is what sex is supposed to be. Not careful. Not controlled. Just fucking animal.

The rhythm builds. She grinds deep in between, tilting her hips, rolling against you to hit just the right spot, her moans turning into high, desperate whimpers. The sound of her getting closer to the edge makes your cock throb inside her, makes you want to flip her over and take control, but there's something hypnotic about watching her use you like this—the pleasure on her face, the flush spreading across her chest, the sweat making her skin gleam in the half-light.

Her breathing turns ragged, her voice dissolving into gasps, unrestrained, loud enough that if anyone was standing outside the door, they'd know exactly what she was doing to you. And she doesn't care. Each exhale carries a moan, each inhale a gasp as she works herself on your cock, taking exactly what she needs.

"Bet she never rides your cock like this," she pants, voice raw with pleasure.

Downstairs, people are dancing, drinking, talking. Up here, the world's ending. And you're both happy to burn.

You don’t respond, all you can do is grip her harder, guide her movements, lift her higher, bring her down faster, lose yourself in the feel of her. Her pussy is fucking wrapped around around you, slick and hot and perfect, squeezing with each movement like she's trying to milk every last drop from you. The heat between your bodies grows, sweat making your skin slide together, the air in the room thick with the scent of sex.

She moves faster. Filthy. Unapologetic. Fucking you like she owns you. Her movements become less controlled, more desperate—a frantic search for release that has her grinding down harder, taking you deeper, her entire body tensed and trembling as she chases her pleasure.

The bed creaks beneath you, the frame knocking against the wall, the bass from the party downstairs pulsing through the floor, through your bones. The rhythm of the music below seems to sync with her movements, like the whole night is building to this collision. The distant thump of bass is a counterpoint to the wet sounds of your bodies joining, creating a soundtrack to your recklessness.

Every sound outside makes this hotter. The risk, the recklessness—it fuels her, fuels both of you. Knowing that just a floor below, everyone is oblivious. Knowing that at any moment, someone could come looking. Knowing that what you're doing is wrong in all the ways that feel so fucking right.

"I'm the only one who knows how to take this cock," she moans, her movements becoming more erratic, more desperate.

This is what you needed. Her body. Her.

Without warning, she leans forward, her hands pressing against your chest for balance, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Then she shifts, twisting her body until she's facing away from you, her legs tucking neatly beneath yours, straddling you in reverse cowgirl.

Not just a new position. A fucking display.

Your cock slips free from her dripping cunt, the sudden loss of warmth making you groan. The head catches briefly on her swollen lips before it slaps wetly against your stomach, coated in her juices, gleaming in the dim light. You're drenched in her—your cock, your balls, even your thighs sticky with evidence of how fucking soaked she is for you.

The moonlight catches every bead of sweat on her neck and shoulders, highlighting the dip of her spine, the perfect curve where it meets her ass. Her skin is flushed pink where your fingers gripped too hard, already bruising—marking her as yours.

She reaches down between her legs, fingers slick with her own arousal, and wraps them around the base of your cock. You feel the squelch as she grips you, her fluids making her grip slippery. Her thumb smears through the mess at the base, mixing your pre-cum with her slick in a filthy cocktail.

Even her hands are fucking dripping.

She angles your length against her entrance, rolling her hips, dragging the tip through the wetness that coats her inner thighs. You can see it in the moonlight—her arousal literally dripping from her cunt, trailing down her thighs in glistening rivulets. She's so fucking wet it's obscene, her pussy swollen and red from the pounding, lips puffy and spread.

Then, slowly, she starts to sink down. You watch, mesmerized, as her cunt stretches around you again, the pink flesh yielding, spreading, taking your girth inch by inch. The sight of your cock disappearing into her is hypnotic—the contrast of her tight hole struggling to accommodate you, the way her body swallows you up.

She sinks down, and this time you can see everything. The way her asshole clenches reflexively with each inch she takes. The way her pussy lips stretch thin around your shaft. The way her thighs shake with the effort of controlling her descent. You can even see where you're splitting her open, where she's stretched to her limit around you.

The moment she bottoms out, taking you to the base, your hands fly to her waist. Your cock is buried so deep you swear you can see the faint outline of it pressing against her lower abdomen, distending her slightly from the inside.

You're rearranging her guts and she's fucking loving it.

Your jaw clenches, a low, wrecked groan spilling from your lips as you take in the sight before you. Her ass—round, perfect, jiggling slightly with each small adjustment. The dimples at the base of her spine. The way her pussy grips the base of your cock, her arousal seeping out around it, making the junction of your bodies a sticky, filthy mess.

Her ass bounces against you as she starts to move, the wet slapping sounds echoing in the room. Each time she lifts up, your cock emerges glistening, coated in her cream, only to disappear again as she drops back down. The suction of her body creates obscene noises—squelching, slurping sounds that should be embarrassing but only make you harder.

Your eyes trace lower, to the tight, puckered rim of her ass. It winks with each movement, clenching and relaxing as she works herself on your cock. A thin trickle of her own arousal has traveled up from her pussy, making it glisten invitingly in the dim light.

A rush of heat surges through you. You lift a hand to your mouth, gathering saliva, making sure it's wet enough, filthy enough. A long strand of spit trails from your lips to your thumb as you pull it away.

Then you press it against her ass, rubbing slow, teasing circles around the tight pucker. It's damp from her own juices running down, making your thumb glide easily against the sensitive skin. You feel her whole body jolt at the contact, her pussy clamping down around your cock in response.

She almost screams, her back arching sharply. You push your thumb in deeper, past the tight ring of muscle. The heat inside is scorching, the pressure intense as her body struggles to accommodate the intrusion. Her asshole grips your thumb like a vice, pulsing around it as she adjusts.

Two holes filled. Two ways to own her completely.

"Fuck—" she gasps, voice breaking into a whine. Her rhythm falters as her body processes the dual penetration, the overwhelming fullness of being stretched in two places at once.

You can feel your own cock through the thin membrane separating her passages—feel the rigid hardness of it pressing against your thumb. The knowledge that you're filling both her holes at once, stretching her to her limits, sends a primal surge of satisfaction through you.

She's dripping now—literally dripping. Each time she lifts herself up, a fresh gush of her arousal spills down, coating your balls, soaking into the sheets beneath you. The bed is getting drenched, the spot beneath you growing dark with the evidence of her need.

You take your other hand and trail it up her body, over the sweat-slick plane of her stomach, feeling the muscles jump under your touch. Her nipples are hard enough to cut glass, poking through the thin fabric like pebbles. You pinch one roughly, rolling it between your fingers, feeling her whole body clench in response.

She leans back against you, her spine a perfect arch, her head falling onto your shoulder. You can see the veins in her neck straining as she gasps for air, see the flush spreading across her chest, turning her skin a deep rose. Sweat drips from her hairline, tracing glistening paths down her temples, her neck, between her breasts.

Her nails dig into your thighs, breaking skin, leaving crescent-shaped welts as she uses you for leverage. She starts to bounce harder, faster, her control slipping. Each time she drops down, the impact forces a grunt from her lips, a primal sound torn from deep in her chest.

You can feel it—the way her walls are spasming around your cock, gripping erratically, her body starting to lose rhythm as she approaches the edge. She's soaking wet, her arousal making obscene squelching noises with each thrust. The sounds are pornographic—wet, sloppy, filthy—the soundtrack of two bodies using each other without restraint.

Your thumb presses deeper into her ass, timing the thrusts with the bouncing of her hips. Each time she drops down on your cock, you push in with your thumb, ensuring she feels stuffed from both ends. The double penetration has her babbling, incoherent sounds spilling from her lips as her brain short-circuits from the overload.

Her moans grow higher, more desperate. The pace is frantic now, almost brutal—her ass slapping against your thighs hard enough to sting, to leave both of you marked. The wet sounds grow louder, sloppier, as her body produces more slick, preparing for release.

She's going to flood the fucking bed when she comes.

The pleasure coils tight inside both of you, unbearable pressure building at the base of your spine, in your balls, making them draw up tight against your body. You're fighting it, gritting your teeth, determined to feel her break first.

Your grip tightens, fingers digging into the sweat-slick skin of her waist hard enough to leave bruises, marks that will last for days, reminding her who did this to her.

"Chaewon, I—"

She doesn't let you finish.

Her hands fly back, fingers wrapping tight around your wrists, pinning them down. She slams herself down onto you one final time—forcing you impossibly deep, grinding her ass against your pelvis in tight circles, making sure you feel every ripple, every clench of her inner walls.

A wrecked sound rips from your throat as your control shatters. Your cock pulses violently inside her, the first spurt of cum hitting deep, painting her insides. She feels it—you know she does, from the way her breath catches, from the way her cunt clamps down even tighter, milking you, demanding every last drop.

She gasps, her entire body seizing as her own orgasm hits. Her pussy convulses around your cock in rhythmic pulses, squeezing, releasing, each contraction drawing another jet of cum from you. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, her abs tightening so hard they cramp. Her asshole clenches rhythmically around your thumb, synchronized with the pulsing of her cunt.

She's cumming. Hard.

A gush of wetness floods around your cock, her release spilling out, soaking both of you further. It drips down, adding to the mess between your bodies, the evidence of her pleasure impossible to contain.

"F-fuck—" The word shatters in her throat, dissolving into a high, keening wail as another wave hits her, her body jerking like she's being electrocuted.

She's not just coming. She's fucking breaking.

Your vision blurs, tunnels, focuses only on where your bodies are joined, on the sight of her stuffed full of your cock, taking your load deep inside her. Each pulse of your release triggers another aftershock in her, creating a feedback loop of pleasure that seems endless.

You're emptying yourself into her, filling her with rope after rope of hot cum, more than you thought possible. Your balls ache from the force of it, your entire body trembling with the intensity of release.

Chaewon moans through it, her walls rippling around you, milking out every last drop. She's insatiable, greedy, her body designed to take everything you can give and demand more.

She takes all of it.

The only sounds in the room are ragged breathing, the wet squelch as she shifts slightly on your still-hard cock, and the faint dripping of her arousal onto the soaked sheets below. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex—sweat, cum, her arousal, all mixing into a heady cocktail that makes your head spin.

Finally, she exhales, stretching like a satisfied cat. Her back arches, pressing her ass more firmly against you, causing your still-sensitive cock to shift inside her. The movement squeezes a few final drops from you, adding to the mess already filling her.

She breathes out a satisfied sigh, lips curving into something dark, smug, victorious.

"I'm keeping it inside," she murmurs, voice low, syrupy, ruined. Her internal muscles clench deliberately around you, making sure not a drop escapes.

Her hips shift—a slow, final roll—grinding down, sending another wave of overstimulation tearing through your body. You groan, oversensitive to the point of pain, but unable to pull away. She's got you trapped, her body still locked around yours, refusing to release you until she's ready.

She doesn't care about your discomfort. She loves it. Loves knowing she can push you past your limits.

"For the rest of the party," she purrs, squeezing around you one last time. You can feel your cum inside her, hot and thick, adding to the slickness each time she clenches. "Walking around downstairs with your cum dripping into my panties. Right in front of everyone."

Her ultimate victory. Carrying the proof of what you've done together while looking Eunbi in the eye.

---

The bass pounds through the floor, vibrating up through your feet as you lean against the wall, nodding along to whatever Eunbi is saying. For the past thirty minutes, you've been following her through the party, a dutiful boyfriend with a plastic cup of whatever Yena mixed, pretending you're fully present. Pretending you can't still feel the ghost of Chaewon's body on yours. Pretending there isn't a hollow ache in your stomach every time the crowd shifts and you catch a glimpse of brown hair and sequins across the room.

Eunbi takes a sip of her water—she stopped drinking an hour ago—and checks her watch for the third time in ten minutes. The party has hit that point where the music gets louder to compensate for the thinning crowd, where people are either leaving or getting sloppy. She doesn't belong to either category.

"I think I'm ready to go," she says, leaning in so you can hear her over a particularly aggressive bass drop. "I'm getting tired."

The way she says it—gentle, apologetic—makes the guilt twist deeper. She thinks she's the one inconveniencing you. She has no idea.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, finishing your drink in one long swallow, needing the burn in your throat to ground you. "Let me just grab your coat."

As Eunbi gathers her things, you scan the room, knowing you shouldn't, knowing you can't help it. You find Chaewon by the drinks table, hair slightly mussed despite her efforts to fix it, lips still swollen from your kisses. Your eyes meet across the crowd, and the corner of her mouth lifts in that familiar smirk.

You look away first.

"Ready?" Eunbi asks, coat draped over her arm.

Before you can answer, Chaewon materializes beside you, as if summoned by your weakness.

"Leaving so soon?" She directs the question at Eunbi, her voice innocent, her eyes anything but when they flick to you.

"Yeah, I'm tired," Eunbi says, smiling at her friend. "Great party though."

Chaewon laughs, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You barely participated! Next time I'll make sure it's more your speed."

She hugs Eunbi, their cheeks pressing together, their perfumes mingling. Over Eunbi's shoulder, Chaewon's eyes lock with yours, dark and knowing. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, and you know she's thinking about what you did, what you released inside her—still there, still warm.

"Text me tomorrow?" Eunbi asks her as they pull apart.

"Of course," Chaewon nods, then turns to you. "You take care of her, okay?"

The double meaning hangs in the air between you. Her hand brushes yours as she steps back—a touch so brief Eunbi doesn't notice, but enough to make your pulse spike.

As you lead Eunbi toward the door, you feel Chaewon's eyes following you. You know this isn't over. You know that on Monday, when you see her in class, when you sit across from her at lunch with Eunbi between you, the game will continue.

You know you've made your choice, even if you won't admit it yet.

The truth is painfully simple: Eunbi is smart, perfect, and right.

But Chaewon's still hot as fuck, and that's the problem.

#malereader #kpop smut #cloudtrnsprncy #cloudtsmut #male reader #chaewon x reader

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kitananami · 3 days ago

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MDNI.

ExBf!Gojo, who would still pathetically send your favorite flowers on your birthday. This card on this one read:

Happy birthday babyyy, I love youuu <3

On the front. You scoffed, turning it over.

Can you please talk to me?

On the back.

The same flowers that would be added into the glass stained antique vase that normally held every single bouquet Gojo gifted.

But these flowers were sent right back to him.

ExBf!Gojo, who reached for his phone after looking down at the porch, the porch that held the same flowers he sent to you the day before.

"Aww did I choose the wrong flowers /: "

ExBf!Gojo texted. Staring at his screen waiting for you to reply. Until the waiting turned into 3 days. After 3 days you finally replied, but instead of on text, it was a box full of his shit, sent by a delivery truck. So he swallowed the egotistical lump in his throat and grabbed his phone, realization settling in— he did fuck up bad this time.

"Y/n I'm sorry... Can we please talk?"

The last attempted text before he realized he was blocked.

ExBf!Gojo, who already knew you rarely gave second chances to other people. The woman of his dreams he spent three years with, the happiest three years of his lonely life, yet the same woman he could never get back. The one who he knew despised him and meant it when the second to last words she denounced was,

"It's over."

ExBf!Gojo, who stood at the hotel room door he booked two days before your birthday. The same man whose heart felt limp, seeing you cry for the first time in the three years you shared together, watching you pack your suitcase in pure anger. Because he knew it'd be the last time he saw you.

So he reached for you, grabbing your wrist gently, "Baby, i swear, it really isn't what it looked like—"

The last words he said to you in person before you cut him off, pulling your wrist away to swipe an angry tear falling down your cheek. The very last words of yours that hurt him because you called him Gojo instead of Satoru. And you didn't even look at him in his stupid blue eyes,

"Don't touch me. I never wanna see your fucking face again Gojo."

ExBf!Gojo, who was too friendly. Who would flirt with any pretty girl in sight without even realizing it.

ExBf!Gojo, who couldn't handle his alcohol like a childish teenager and finally pushed your limits after you saw him at the pool, pouring a shot of cheap tequila into a blond girl's mouth, followed with her grabbing his face and kissing him on the lips.

ExBf!Gojo, who started to go crazy after 6 months had passed. 6 months of convincing himself that he would get you back. He was left with nothing else than the box you sent him back with his shit. Nanami even began forming a slight concern, because for the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru was quiet and didn't have an ego anymore.

"Why aren't you being annoying anymore?" He asked.

He responded in an emotionless shoulder shrug.

ExBf!Gojo, who started to hate himself even more for how he made you feel that day, for being the reason why he saw you cry for the first time. Because it was the same day today, but a year later. A year later since he saw you in person. A year since he heard the voice that made him so fucking happy every time he heard it. But the lack of presence had him chasing any last bit of hope, hope of feeling that happiness again. If he could hear you simply cussing him out again, just to hear your voice, he'd pay. He deserved it anyways. But even you didn't give him that energy or time. You were too mature. Something Gojo couldn't be.

ExBf!Gojo, hated the thought of you being with another man. Not because he was insecure, but because it was him you chose, nobody else. Even though every single man whose path you've crossed wanted you, you never made him feel like he was an option. He was your man, and you were obsessed with him. And it was a healthy obsession because he knew you would drop him the moment you felt disrespected by him. So why the fuck was he dumb enough to do that to you?

ExBf!Gojo stood at your door, this time with your favorite flowers in his hands. But they were different this year, because it wasn't store bought, he picked it in a flower field he had to trespass. He knocked on your door and took a step back, gripping the stems of the flower he made you. In the midst of convincing himself he needed to stop being so emotional to calm down, attempting to grasp back his ego and snarky remarks, 2 minutes had passed. He knocked again.

ExBf!Gojo stood for another 10 minutes. Then started to feel too desperate. Like the weight of everything he regretted and lost spiraled into a deeper avalanche. He curved his neck back and sighed, looking at the roof of your porch as tears started to peek in the corner of his eyes.

"Y/n, please. Just let me talk to you. Even if it's one last time."

ExBf!Gojo Heard the echo of his sorrowful voice bounce off into the night of your birthday. He looked back down at the bouquet of flowers he held, taking note of the smallest details. And he began to talk to himself again.

"God no wonder why these were your favorite flowers. You always had good taste. Always knew what you wanted, except for picking the places for us to eat," he chuckled, the tears threatening to fall down his face.

"So beautiful.... you're so beautiful y/n.... I wish I could call you baby again, but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he croaked out, tears streaming down his face this time.

"I don't care how stupid I look right now, I just realized you might not even be home," he scoffed, a smile forming on his face in delirium, he sniffed up his cries as the tears kept flowing, "I wish I had the opportunity to make you as happy as you made me... I didn't deserve you, but you deserved to be as happy as I was," He sobbed, starting to sound incoherent, jumbling his words.

"Fuck I miss you so much baby. I'm so sorry," he grit through his teeth, nodding his head in defeat, "I'm so sorry baby...I just don't know how to stop loving you."

ExBf!Gojo looked up to see the door slowly creak open. And he was right, you are beautiful. Too beautiful for his own good. Your eyes were tearing up regardless of how much you wanted to fight it. And you sighed.

"I hate you Satoru." You whispered.

ExBf!Gojo who didn't care that you hated him. Because at least you opened the door and said something to him. He held out the flowers,

"Happy birthday!!!" He said cheerfully with red eyes and tears still rolling down his cheeks.

You looked down at the flowers. Disorganized and messy. Like a boy made them. Because a boy did make them. A boy who every girl wanted in high school, and it disgusted you because how can you like someone like him. Until you guys reconnected during your college years. A boy who turned into a man somehow... who made sure to get you flowers every year of your birthday. A man you swore you would never fall in love with.

ExBf!Gojo who's ex girlfriend pulled him into her home after accepting the flowers and setting it by the door.

ExBf!Gojo who was sat down on the couch by his ex girlfriend as she connected her lips passionately with his, followed by aggression.

Gojo sighed into the kiss, snaking his hands all over your body to ensure this was real, that this was actually happening. That the bulge forming in his pants wasn't another pathetic wet dream he had of you.

ExBf!Gojo had his shirt lifted off of his chest, quickly assisting with your removal next. You gripped behind his hair, pulling his head backwards to the side before you began sucking his neck hungrily.

ExBf!Gojo exhaled, muscle memory kicking in, grabbing your tits and swirling the nubs of his thumb over your nipples, earning your moans that he missed so much. You sucked and kissed all the sensitive spots on his neck, marking him dark red till he exhaled,

"Mmmm baby...."

ExBf!Gojo switched places, plopping your back onto the couch as he ripped off your pants, reconnecting his lips with yours, then to your breasts, sucking feverishly. Your moans teased him, gripping his hair again. He traveled down to your core,

"I've been so fucking hungry..."

ExBf!Gojo licked the tip of his tongue down your slit, then scooped up every bit of wetness oozing down your core before ramming his tongue inside, working inside your cunt like he was getting paid overtime for it. You arched your back against the couch. His hand that wasn't wrapped around your thigh held your hand gently as you gripped hard every swipe and suck he made on your clit.

"Sa-toru... Baby- uahh," you said falling in and out of consciousness at how fucking good he ate you out.

ExBf!Gojo was going insane right now. But finally, in a good way. The best way possible. He ate you like the last supper, but he would make sure this isn't his last.

"Baby please fuck me..." you sighed, rolling your cunt desperately on his face as he reminded you of how pathetic every toy you purchased felt against your pussy, every one of your attempts to imagine times he ate you out so good, this good.

ExBf!Gojo who almost came at your breathless, desperate request, if it wasn't for him almost cumming in his pants from tasting your pussy again. The only pussy he's felt since you broke up with him. Because he knew after you, nobody could ever taste and feel as good as you.

ExBf!Gojo's arms had to be pulled up by y/n because he couldn't stop eating her pussy.

ExBf!Gojo had to hold in every urge to cum at the slightest touch of you. You sat up on the couch as he stood in front of your face, pulling down his Calvin Klein underwear, licking a strip of the precum oozing down his dick before sucking the sweetness out of him, stroking his shaft.

ExBf!Gojo who had to grab your hair and stop you before he came too quick.

"Wait Baby stoppp.... I'm gonna cum if you do that"

He didn't deserve to mess up that beautiful face of yours for his pleasure. He also really needed to be inside your pussy.

ExBf!Gojo who picked you up and carried you into your room. Laying you down aggressively yet gently, on your back. You both exchanged eye contact, yours looking into his in anticipation, and his looking into yours in pure love and euphoria. You fucking hated him, but somehow loved him too.

ExBf!Gojo lined himself up, not even needing to collect any wetness as he slid right into you slowly. He watched as your eyes closed and your mouth opened slowly into a soft moan. And he watched your beautiful face—every stroke, savoring every single one as the tightness and warmth of your pussy had him biting down hard on his lip, trying not to cum in under 20 seconds.

"Baby you're so fucking beautiful," he said before picking up his pace. You couldn't respond with any literate words.

"God I could never lose you again...." he groaned, pulling up your legs over his shoulder, he remembered every detail, every stroke, every position that drove you crazy and closer towards your climax.

You squealed out, tears forming at the brim of your eyes as he picked up his pace. You felt every inch and circumference of him, wondering how you could've ever left someone who always laid it down on you this good. Regardless of how much of a shitface he was. Your bedroom echoed with the sound of your wet pussy and his balls slapping against your cunt.

ExBf!Gojo who kissed your lips and looked at you once again, caressing your face and stroking the side of your face gently with his thumb as he kept a steady rhythm of his hips snapping against yours– slowly, pushing the back of your knees closer to the side of your body, inching into you deeper and deeper.

"The only time I could ever make you cry again is if I'm fucking you like this my love," he exhaled, "Taking me soo good..." he grinned menacingly, picking up his rhythm again, making a tear slide down your face as he felt your wetness building up, walls clenching dangerously tight around his cock,

"My good girl...."

"Please please.... yes Baby...." You managed to say. Both of your hands gripped his shoulders in an attempt to catch consciousness before you felt your peak, "I fucking love you Satoru...."

He rolled his eyes and head back, not being able to fully look at you at how hard your words hit. He kept the same rhythm, gliding into you, "I love you too baby... Fuck I can't hold it in are you gonna—"

He was interrupted by your screams and tears sliding down your cheek. You came down on him, milking his dick with your pussy. He felt so fucking good. And every bit of regret letting him in your house dissolved with your moans and cries.

"Baby where can I come?" He said uncontrollably fast, wiping your tears, nearly about to burst inside you.

And even after you came, every sensitive stroke felt like after shocks of more orgasms.

"Mmmm Satoru... cum insid—" you attempted to say, now this time interrupted by him stuffing his face in the crook of your neck. Beating every ounce of his cum into your pussy, his groans synchronized with your moaning and crying, filling you up with beads and lines of his warm cum.

"God I am never..." he popped his head back up, still slowly and lazily rolling his cock into you. He slid his hands slowly up against the blanket under you, intertwining his hands with yours, "losing you again."

_______

a/n- hi guys :P

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witherby · 3 days ago

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I love your Littlest Wayne series! I was just wondering, can Connor still hear mouse when she is in the shadows? Like, how would he react if she suddenly used her powers and he couldn't hear her anymore?

Ohhhh I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Let's explore that!

More Conner x Gender Neutral!Reader coming up~

Littlest Wayne: Signs of Life

Masterlist is Here!

Conner uses your heartbeat to lull himself to sleep. Its steady cadence is an anchor point for him when he's overwhelmed, or when he misses you, or when he wants to know where you are. Its calm, consistent thumping is always in the back of his mind, even when he isn't consciously listening for it.

So when he cracks his eyes open out of a dead sleep, groggy and confused, it takes him entirely too long to realize that he woke up because can't hear you anymore.

He's at Wayne Manor in seconds, uncaring of the alarms he's tripping in his haste to get to you, and hovering anxiously in the air when he finds your bedroom unoccupied. When Hal blearily stumbles in and asks him why he's in his youngest's room in the middle of the night again, and to please stop doing that because it's very inappropriate, Conner grips his shoulders too tight and blurts out the first coherent thought in his mind.

"I can't hear them!"

Hal rubs the sleep from his eyes, unphased. "Kid, I don't know what —"

"I can't hear their heartbeat."

The alertness is there now. Hal pushes his hands away and goes to the bed, pulling the covers back.

"The sheets are cold. Stay here, I'm getting Bruce."

Conner zips out of the room and pulls Bruce from his bed, then sets him back on the floor before Hal can even finish turning towards the door.

"Help me find them!" He snaps in a panic. Bruce blinks heavily, but it doesn't take him long to realize there's an emergency.

"When did you stop hearing them?" Bruce asks, glancing around your room. The only sign of disturbance is the window Conner came through, which was closed prior to his arrival. Bruce starts examining the space around your bed, wondering if you simply slipped into your pocket dimension or if something actually happened, and Hal leaves to go grab his ring so he can scan the area.

"Eight minutes ago. I woke up because I couldn't hear their heartbeat anymore, Bruce. I've never not been able to hear them before, I can't see them or detect their heat signature —"

"Superboy," Bruce says firmly, "deep breaths. It's extremely likely that they're still alive, but you can't help track them down if you're panicking."

Conner takes deep breaths. A little too deep. When he exhales the wind almost pushes Bruce over. He glares at Conner, who grimaces and flies back through the window to breathe outside instead.

"Where are you..." He whispers, frowning. He wraps his arms around his waist in a facsimile of a hug and closes his eyes, trying to center himself.

It'll be fine. Bruce and Hal don't seem to be frightened (they aren't a good base to compare to anyway, being seasoned vigilantes trained not to panic in stressful situations) and they aren't making any attempts to reach out to other League members for backup. It'll be fine. You're alive somewhere, Conner just can't hear you or see you or smell you or sense you or —

Deep breaths, he reminds himself. Focus. Just breathe and keep looking. They're fine. They're safe. They're....on the moon.

No fucking way.

Conner opens his eyes, incredulous. He listens for your heartbeat again, expanding his hearing outside of Earth.

There it is. The steady thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump he's grown to love is on the dark side of the goddamn moon. Like metal to a magnet, he follows the sound of you up, and up, and up, until he breaches the atmosphere and enters space. Then flies even further still, until his socked feet touch down onto the rocky surface.

"You scared the shit out of me," he snaps, when what he meant to say was "I'm so relieved you're okay."

A lumpy patch of darkness, darker than the rest of the ground, wobbles a little and inches forward until it's tickling Conner's toes. You move like you're unused to the terrain. It only makes him angrier.

"...a w a k e...w h y..."

"It's your fault," he says, hands shaking so bad he clenches them into fists. "I woke up with this huge sense of dread. Something was wrong, every bone in my body knew it. And I realized I couldn't hear your heart anymore."

He presses his fists to his eyes, applying pressure until bursts of color dance behind closed lids. They're burning, and not from the threat of head vision.

"I thought you were — I couldn't find —" he shakes his head and gasps your name. He feels that same tickling sensation on his feet again, more insistent. He steps away from your shadow. "Do you know how terrifying that was? To wake up and not find a single sign of life!? It's the middle of the night, and you're out here just — just on the moon!! On THE moon, the one in outer space!! When did you even find out you could travel off-planet!?"

"...y e s t e r d a y...p r a c t i c i n g..."

"Leave a note next time!" Conner says. He wants to throw something. Wants to kick the moon apart. Wants to drag you from the darkness and never let you out of his arms. "Leave a text! Tell someone something before you do this again!!"

"...i p r o m i s e...s o r r y C o n n e r..."

This time, when your darkness reaches for him, Conner allows himself to be pulled under and into your tight embrace. He floats in absolute darkness with you, soothing himself with your heartbeat.

When you return to your room, Bruce and Hal find you and Conner in each other's arms and sleeping away.

#littlest wayne au #conner kent x reader #kon el x reader #kon el #hal jordan #bruce wayne #batlantern #tfw your partner casually slips into a little pocket dimension and you can't track their pulse 24/7 anymore

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heyftinally · 3 days ago

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Honestly, I think the biggest example of this is The Boops. On no other social media would you see The Boops become the event that it is. ESPECIALLY not people just booping random users they've never seen or interacted with before. If you did that on twitter, that would Weird™. But on tumblr it becomes this huge community endeavor. People will "boop spam" just to rack up points, and this isn't considered annoying by most of the other users - in fact, people actively label themselves as happy to be boop spammed, and will return the spamming to anyone who obliges.

And it's all completely pointless. You don't get anything tangible or of value from The Booping. The next day it's as if it never happened. But for ~24hrs, we all took the collective opportunity to get silly and (forgive my turn of phrase), play in the metaphorical ball pit of the internet.

It truly is just comitting to the bit and embracing whimsy for the sake of finding joy in the otherwise pointless. Because if we can't romanticize stupid shit and embrace whatever joy we can, then what's the point?

And honestly, that's one of the reasons that I love tumblr. Because even when the world is a nuclear dumpster fire, we all take a few minutes to say "fuck it - cheeses your börgör" and find something to bring amusement anyway.

And I think that's beautiful.

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neigepomme · 10 hours ago

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˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ stay still!! / caleb x reader

synopsis; caleb would lay his head on your lap forever if he could. he's a bit more reluctant about staying still when you bring out a weapon (tweezers) to use on him though.

🍎 pomme's notes - honestly he just has really nice eyebrows. what can i say

⋆ 1k words / fluff / reader is gender neutral / 2nd person

caleb loves laying on your lap.

the first time he did was when you were still kids — he was climbing a tree at a park you two often hung out at, and after picking two apples from said tree, he promptly made his way down to you.

with the widest grin 10-year-old caleb could muster, he looks at you and beams;

"pip!! look at what i got us!!"

his eyes shone bright, crinkling at the corners upon seeing you light up and flashing him a smile with a tooth missing. when he leaned down to sit next to you, you looked up at him and patted your lap, telling him "put your head here!! a pillow after you got us apples!!" and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

in retrospect, maybe that was the first time caleb realized he liked you, not just as a close friend — but that was a thought he could ponder about another day. right now, you looked at him with the same eyes as you excitedly pat your lap. only it was fifteen years later, and you were finally dating.

as he happily strides towards you, you think that if caleb had a tail, it'd be wagging excitedly at the idea of resting on your lap. the fleet's ever-so-serious colonel caleb xia, melting away and donning a lovesick smile on his face.

he settles on the couch, legs hanging off the edge — stupidly big man acting like a tiny puppy. head finally resting on your lap, caleb speaks up with a teasing tone;

"what's up pipsqueak? missing your favorite weighted plushie on your lap?"

"mmh, i sure did. i missed my favorite doll to experiment on."

oh.

so that's why you were so eager to get him lying down on your lap. he laughs nervously, getting ready for the worst and that's when he sees it. tweezers in your dominant hand.

visibly turning more pale, he tries to get himself out of the torturous experience you're about to put him through.

"actually, i think i have something to do, gorgeous! wow, it sure is getting late and dinner isn't gonna prepare itse-"

"i already ordered takeout. don't you worry about a thing, colonel xia, nothing will come in the way of my tweezers and your brows", you interrupt him, and that's when reality sinks in for him.

caleb is done for. the last time you did his eyebrows was two years ago, when he came back home from the DAA for spring break, and he still remembers the sting of it all.

he needed to get out.

"y- you know, you really don't have to do this!! i can handle it myself!!"

"yeah, but i want to. what kind of partner would i be if i don't take care of my handsome and lovely boyfriend, who's definitely not trying to get out of this?"

he gulped, almost comically so. you caught him, and there was no way out of this one — or maybe there was. he didn't want to do this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

puppy eyes. caleb stared at you and tried to look as pitiful as he possibly could, praying to every deity out there that you'll have some mercy on his soul.

"come on, Y/N.. my eyebrows look fine and i don't wanna waste your time — and this hurts. i don't understand how you do it, and i could never be as strong as you. please, please, please spare me. pretty please?"

you snort and lean down, pressing an exaggerated wet kiss on his forehead, making sure to emphasize the 'mwah' sound.

"nope! loved the puppy eyes, though. you should do that more often. alright, if there are no further inquiries, i'm gonna ask you to sit tight and relax pretty boy. let's get this done."

caleb stiffens when he realizes there's no way out of this. how is it that he went through DAA training, the fleet's conditioning, but somehow, you doing his eyebrows was the end of him? he's lost in his thoughts now, thinking about happy memories, but when your tweezers make contact with his skin, he immediately flinches and starts whining.

"ow ow ow ow ow, pips! it hurts! it hurts!"

you smile and flick his forehead lightly,

"i didn't even touch you yet! you always call me dramatic but you're not any better!!"

and then you pull out a hair.

"oh my go- i can't. i can't do this, please pipsqueak, please, have some mercy on your boyfriend."

and another one.

and he yelps, keeps on wriggling and trying to get out of your grasp. he thinks that you're stupidly strong right now — and all that strength is used in order to make him suffer.

"i thought you loved me!! we grew up together!! Y/N, you're hurting the love of your life, plea- ow!!"

you're giggling now, watching your big, strong, and fearless caleb being reduced to yelps as you do his eyebrows.

he inhales sharply, trying to roll away from your hands and begging for mercy, "it hurts!! please tell me you're done with the right brow, please pips!!".

laughing even harder now, you drag him back by the shoulder to his original position on your lap, and he has his face hidden in his hands, eyes tightly shut. he's shaking his head in disagreement and fake crying.

"oh my god, sit still, you dummy! if you keep on wriggling, i'm gonna put you on a cilantro only diet for the entire week!!"

and that seems to do it. he settles down again, but not without a few whines and sniffles.

drama queen.

when you're finally done (not without some more "ow ow ow- ouch!!" and "you hate me! you hate your boyfriend!" from him), he gets up and admires your work in the mirror. he wipes a stray tear that he insists isn't a tear but rather a hair that fell in his eye, and while you beg to differ, you let him have this small win.

"light work. this was a breeze", caleb exhales. free at last he thinks. that is, until he hears you hum. and he knows you — that hum meant something bad for him.

"oh yeah? same time next week then, boyfriend."

you swear you can see the color drain from his face, and you giggle.

such a drama queen. but he's your drama queen, all yours.

🍎 pomme's final notes - this is my offering to him because i really really want farspace deprivation to come home </3 it's the only card of his that i'm missing :((

#⋆ pomme writes #caleb x reader #caleb #love and deepspace #lads #caleb x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads caleb #he's so stupid i love him

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dollveis · 2 days ago

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇 !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀you've got a fetish for my love

❝ ELLIE WILLIAMS ❞⠀ ✿ you always push ellie away because you're sure you couldn't work together, but maybe you can under the bed sheets. 3.3k words.

pairing. jackson!ellie x fem!reader content warning! mention of consuming alcohol, smut, vague plot tbh, the smut it's actually pretty light and there's more tension and making out than anything, a bit of fluff and maybe angst if you squint, kind of a enemies to lovers but they're not completely enemies (just don't get along), open ending, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), top!ellie, bottom! reader, there's not really a dom/sub dynamic here.

☆ this is the first thing i've wrote in like a year and a half so bear with me please, this also has been sitting in my drafts for two years already and i finished it just now. i hope this isn't that bad! if there's any grammatical mistakes please let me know, english is not my first language, enjoy ♡

The party was obviously Dina's idea. She'd been going on about it for weeks now, how the younger crowd of Jackson needed a break, no one had barely time to just be and exist with all the patrolling, hunting and just surviving in general.

The party is already in full swing when you finally arrive, half the town's twenty-somethings crowding Dina's place. The warmth it's the first thing that hits you, the house is candlelit, the soft cracking of the fireplace and the strong scent of whiskey and woodsmoke fill your nostrils. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, someone's half-drunk attempt at playing the guitar makes everyone laugh, you hear Dina's voice rising above it all, welcoming everyone, teasing people, just keeping the energy high. She really outdid herself, the whole place is alive in a way that Jackson rarely is.

And you hate it.

You immediately thought you shouldn't have come. The party is loud, too loud. It's not that you don't like the people here, you do, for most part, but crowds make you restless and you've spent the whole day convincing yourself that this? this isn't what you need, you should've stayed home but Dina insisted, said you were wound up too tight.

“Loosen up, drink a little, talk to someone who isn't your damn horse!” she said when she greeted you and saw that expression in your face, like if you were about to run back to your house.

So now you were stuck there, standing stiff against a wall, drink in hand and watching the room from a distance like it might swallow you whole.

Then your eyes land on her.

Ellie.

She's sitting in the corner, half sprawled on the couch, beer dangling from her slender fingers and her other arm resting lazily over the back of the couch, boots kicked up on the edge of a coffee table just if like she owns the fucking place. She's laughing at something Jesse just said, her head tilting back slightly, exposing the column of her throat. It's a rare sight— her guard down, her expression relaxed, warmth slipping through the usual sharp edges.

For a second you let yourself look, your gaze fixated on her. The way her shirt clings to her frame, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tattoo catching the dim light of the place. The way her fingers absently trace the label on her beer bottle. The way her green eyes flick across the room, scanning, searching, until they land on you.

There's a pause, a beat where neither of you look away. Then—

She smirks. Fucking smirks. She lifts her beer slightly, a silent acknowledgement of your presence, before taking a slow sip. She knows exactly what she's doing, she enjoys watching you bristle.

You scoff and turn away, pulse kicking up in annoyance. You and Ellie don't get along, y'all never have, she's stubborn, reckless, too sure of herself in a way that grates on your nerves. Every patrol together turns into a heated argument, every introduction a silent battle. It's not like she's mean, if anything, it'd be easier if she was, but she's just Ellie, all sharp words and cocky grins, pressing your buttons like it's a game. And she's determined to win it. For some reason she never lets up, not with you.

Maybe it's a game of push and pull and you always push first.

An hour passes, maybe more, two? you spend most of it trying to avoid her, talking to Dina, Jesse, anyone else but you feel her presence like a weight. Every time you glance her way, she's already looking, every time you move, she's just there and it's pissing you off.

You down the rest of your drink and push through the crowd, slipping down the back hallway, you don't run but you walk fast enough that it feels like it, you dodge Jesse's half-hearted attempt to pull you into some drinking game. You just need air, space—distance.

The first door you find is half open, a guest room, mostly unused since the bed was neatly made. You step inside, inhaling deeply, relishing the silence

Then the door shuts behind you, you don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter glaring at the ceiling, “do you ever take a hint?”

Ellie just chuckles, the sound low and amused, “Not when it's this much fun, to be honest,” and you don't even need to look around to know she has that stupid smirk plastered on her face.

You spin to face her, your eyes meeting her intense emerald eyes and your arms crossing tight over your chest, “What the hell do you want?”

She leans against the doorframe, her hand holding her chin like she was pretending to think, “dunno. . . maybe i just like seeing you squirm.”

Your jaw clenches and your fists close, “i'm not squirming.”

You see her smirk grow, a knowing look in her eyes, she looks at you like if she was able to read your thoughts and body language, like if she knew something you don't.

She steps closer, “no?”

You hate how easily she gets under your skin, how quickly she turns the air electric. The room feels smaller with her in it, the tension between you palpable. And the worst part? She knows.

You can feel the anger growing inside you, “why do you always do this?” you snap.

Through her lips escapes a soft chuckle as her brow raises, “do what?”

“This. You act like— like —” you exhale sharply, trying to put your mind in order and find the right words, “like you're trying to get a rise out of me.”

Another step, now you can smell the mix of beer and whiskey on her breath, the faint scent of smoke clinging to her shirt, “what if i am?” she says, her voice now lower, rougher.

You breath hitches, for a moment neither of you move, the tension is thick, suffocating, a rope pulled too tight between you, you're both too stubborn, too reckless, you'd burn each other out before you even had the chance to try.

Your heart pounds, your skin prickles, and fuck, you should push her away like you always do.

But you don't.

You take a step forward, closing the distance completely. Ellie doesn't flinch, doesn't back down, if anything she leans in, her usual green eyes now dark and heavy lidded, her smirk fading into something different. Something dangerous.

“You gonna keep pretending?” she murmurs close to your ear.

You don't answer, you can't because she's right and you both know it. So when she tilts her head, gaze flicking down to your lips— when she hesitates, waiting for you— you do the stupidest thing imaginable.

You kiss her.

The kiss is not soft, not sweet, there's frustration, months of tension unravelling all at once. Ellie makes a sound low in her throat, something between a gasp and a groan, and then she's grabbing you, fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you into her, pressing you against the door. The alcohol on her tongue is dizzying, her body solid and warm against yours and fuck, maybe you should stop. Maybe this is a mistake— but when she bites at your bottom lip, hands slipping under your jacket, pulling, teasing, demanding, you know there's no going back.

Ellie kisses like she fights, hungry, restless, all consuming. Her hands grip at your waist, pulling you impossibly close, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt like she's trying to stake her claim. The taste of her mouth makes your head spin. You should stop, you really should, you keep repeating that to yourself in your mind but when she presses you harder against the wall, when she nips at your lower lip and swallows the soft, sweet sound it pulls from your throat— you don't. You won't.

Your hands move on their own, fisting into the front of her shirt, yanking her closer, until there's barely any space left between the both of you. You feel Ellie exhale sharply against your lips, a quiet, breathy curse before tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Months of pent-up frustration unraveling with every movement.

Her hands now drag under your jacket, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her rough and calloused fingers grazing over your bare skin. The touch sends a shiver through you, your breath hitching as she maps the contours of your waist, ribs, back and dangerously close to your chest.

“Fuck,” Ellie mutters against your mouth, voice husky and almost desperate, “you're—” she cuts herself off, biting at your lip again before pulling back just enough to look at you.

Your chest rises and falls in tandem, lips swallowed and face flushed. And, God, that sight was delightful for her, she could feel herself getting wet just by looking at you, her pupils are blown wide, green eyes dark and unreadable as they flick between your lips and your gaze. She's still gripping at your waist, still pressing you into the door, but there's hesitation now— like she's waiting, like she's asking, like she needs you to make the next move.

You exhale, reaching up, letting your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of her neck. She shivers under your touch, just barely, and something about that sends a thrill directly to your core, making you bolder and almost demanding.

You tug her back in, Ellie groans softly as your lips crash together again, her hands gripping tighter, wandering and exploring beneath your shirt, sometimes her hands traveling to graze your chest. She moves like she's trying to memorize you, like she's been waiting too long for this moment and doesn't want to waste a second of it.

Somewhere between kisses and touches she starts backing you up slowly, steady, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and your stomach tightens.

Ellie pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over your lips, “tell me to stop.”

You obviously don't. Instead, you hook a finger into her belt loop and pull, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress, bringing her down with you. She lets out a breathless chuckle, bracing herself with her hands on either side of your head.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, voice teasing but still rough around the edges, like she's barely holding herself together.

You swallow, breath shaky, “yeah.”

And that's all she needs. She kisses you again, even deeper this time, slower, like she wants to savor it. The weight of her body presses into you, her thigh slotting between yours and pressing it softly against your core, the heat of her touch setting your skin ablaze.

She takes her time now, trailing her lips down your jaw, your neck and collarbone, her hands moving and groping deliberately, teasing your nipples over your shirt. You arch into her touch, finger gripping at her shirt, nails dragging lightly down her back.

Ellie exhales shakily, her lips barely brushing against your skin as she murmurs, “I knew you wanted me.”

You laugh, breathless and heady, tilting your head back as she marks your neck with her mouth, “shut up and prove it.”

And Ellie doesn't hesitate at all now, the second your words leave your mouth, she moves— lips tracing a slow path down your throat, hands now gripping your waist with just enough pressure to keep you grounded. The heat between you is unbearable, every inch of your body hyper aware of her. She really takes her time, dragging her fingers along the hem of your shirt but not directly touching, she's just teasing, testing. Like she's giving you again the chance to change your mind, like she wants you to stop her and you won't.

You tilt your head back, giving her more room to work, breath hitching as her lips graze over your collarbone. Your fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, tugging her closer, needing more, she grins against your skin, clearly pleased, before shifting her weight just enough to pull your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

The room is quiet except for your breaths and soft moans, the faint crackling of a candle in the dresser, the muffled sound of the party still going outside. It feels like another world, distant, unimportant. Right now it's just you and her.

Ellie leans back to look at you, her green eyes searching your gaze, “you sure?”

And that almost made you roll your eyes, wasn't the whole situation obvious enough?

You exhale, heart pounding and voice low, “Ellie.”

That's all it takes. She kisses you again, her hands slip under your shirt, fingers warm against your skin as she softly gropes your tits, sending a shiver down your spine. You press into her touch, drinking in every sensation, every little sound she makes as your hands wander, lifting the hem of her shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. She groans when you drag your nails down her back and the sound sends a rush of heat directly between your thighs. A slow, aching need building, making your head spin.

The bed creaks slightly as she shifts, settling between your thighs like earlier, her weight pressing you deeper into the mattress. When her knee makes friction with your wet and aching pussy, you gasp, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her back down to you, lips meeting in a heated, breathless rhythm.

She moves like she wants to take her time, like she's been waiting for this moment as long as you have but neither of you have the patience for that.

Clothes come off in slow, teasing increments— shirts and pants slipping, fingers tracing new paths along the bare skin. You shudder at the warmth of her mouth trailing lower and lower, her lips leaving marks you know won't fade by morning. She's restless, enjoying every reaction, every gasp and sharp inhale.

When she finally, finally, presses closer, when her wet mouth meets your core through your panties, when her fingers tighten against your hip,it's nothing like fighting. There's no sharpness, no stubborn push-and-pull, there's no battle to win.

Just heat. Just the press of her body against yours, just the slow, aching rhythm her tongue sets, the way she whispers your name like it's the only thing she knows. Just her.

She pulled away her mouth for a moment, enjoying the sight of soaking wet panties, your own fluids mixed with her saliva. With her free hand she began to rub up and down your slit, the thin fabric of your underwear making the friction even more delicious.

The way she was edging is making you crazy, she finally decide to move the fabric aside, she iz quick to attach her warm mouth directly to your, already, sensitive clit as her two of her fingers make their way to the entrance of your needy hole. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel her calloused fingers teasing it at the same time she sucks and licks your clit. The humid sounds of her mouth making your arousal grow even more and she knows.

Her lips let your clit go for a moment, she speaks in a lustful, almost velvety, tone, “i prefer when you're like this and not fighting me back,” and you can't even fight or bite back, you just whimper in response and she grins before going back to work.

She finally stops teasing your entrance and she slips one finger inside you, slick dripping down to her wrist. She was quick to find your spongy spot and she presses exactly where you need and while a soft moans leaves your lips, she inserts another finger, feeling how your walls clench against her digits.

The feeling of her fingers pressing your g-spot as her lips latching onto your bud quickly turns to be too much, you don't even know where to grip, you feel like you need something to keep you grounded, your whines and whimpers music to her ears.

And you don't know how much time passes but the room is warm, your breath stutters as Ellie moves against you, her fingers shifting slightly inside you, every touch, every word, sending a wave of arousal. She's steady, controlled, like she's savoring every second, like she's engraving this moment in her memory.

You, on the other hand? You're unravelling, your hands grip at her naked back, your fingers pressing at her warm skin, desperate to keep her close, to pull her even closer. She responds with a quiet, breathy chuckle, but there's roughness to it, a slight tremor beneath her confidence that tells you she's just as lost in this as you are.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours, breaths mingling, eyes half-lidded as she watches you, “you're so fucking stubborn,” she murmurs, her voice rough and teasing.

You let out a shaky laugh, tilting your head back as her lips find your throat, “look who's talking.”

Ellie hums in agreement against your pulse, her grip tightening at your waist before she started to move again inside you, it was slow and measured but intentional, the way her fingers curl inside you pulls an embarrassing sound from you, but she swallows it with her mouth, kissing you deep, hungry. She doesn't let up, doesn't rush, just takes her time learning you, every sound, every shiver, every spot that makes your breath hitch. It's infuriating and intoxicating all at once, the way she knows exactly what she's doing.

And when she finally pushes you past that point, when you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel her, when you're about to hit ecstasy— she murmurs your name against your skin, like it's a confession, like she's giving you something she hasn't given to anyone else.

When the tension finally shatters, your fingers curl against her back, scratching her, pulling her down into you as everything blurs, melts, breaks. She helps you to ride your orgasm, cooing you with sweet words and praises even if everything you can say it's just “hah-ahh” and moan.

The aftershocks leave you both breathless, tangled in each other, skin sticky with heat and effort. Neither of you move for a long moment, just lying there, letting the world settle back into place around you.

Ellie shifts first, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder before resting her head against your chest. Her fingers trace lazy forms over your side, absentminded.

You exhale, your body still trembling slightly, you lift a shaky hand to run through her hair, pushing damp strands from her forehead. Silence lingers between you, but it's not uncomfortable. It's new, uncertain, but not something you want to pull away from just yet.

The auburn haired girl lets out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to your marked collarbone before murmuring, “still think we don't work?”

You huff a quiet laugh, shifting beneath her, “i still think you talk too much.”

She grins, biting lightly at your shoulder in retaliation before settling back down, “yeah, sure,” a pause. Then quieter, more serious, “you're not gonna run, are you?”

Your stomach tightens at that, at the way she asks like she already knows the answer, like she's bracing herself. You hesitate, your fingers playing with her hair.

You don't know what this is, what it means, if it even means anything at all. Maybe you'll still fight on patrol, still push each other's buttons, still refuse to admit how deep this thing between you two really runs.

But right now, here, in the quiet warmth of this bed? You don't want to leave.

“No…” you finally murmur, feeling the way her body relaxes against yours at the answer, “not tonight.”

Ellie hums, pressing one last kiss to your skin before sighing, “good.”

And for now, that's enough.

#𔓘 vi's works. ꒱#ellie wiliams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams headcanons #ellie willams x reader #tlou fanfiction

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d1sc01nf3rn0 · 9 hours ago

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I work on IT and copilot is making my life hell. It's fucking complicated to block it, because you need to access the computer's registry, which isn't something most people usually do.

And my coworkers decide to "ask copilot" instead of checking our resources or knowledge bases, which in turn ends up in "I didn't find how to do this, so I'm gonna escalate it"; which you can guess how it goes. They're doing this for the most simplest stuff: having no audio, the computer freezing, installing a printer, writing an email etc. When copilot doesn't have the answer they end up contacting me, and I don't know if I feel more annoyed or worried about how I end up solving these things in minutes, but they can't because they expect copilot to do it for them, and give up when it doesn't.

Bear in mind that "AI" use wastes a lot of water, and I live in a place that only gets water 3x per week. So my coworkers decide to use copilot to write an email instead of spending about 5 minutes doing it themselves, and then I spend 3 days without water, yay.

Worst part of it is that the chief of operations is the one pushing this, a wealthy kid whose hobby (and I'm quoting) is "funding business and then selling them", so IT is not his career, he just has a lot of money. He even proposed giving a bonus for anyone who came to him with "AI ideas" (whatever that means), while the IT guys on higher positions like me are worried AF about a breach of information.

One of the common mistakes I see for people relying on "AI" (LLMs and image generators) is that they think the AI they're interacting with is capable of thought and reason. It's not. This is why using AI to write essays or answer questions is a really bad idea because it's not doing so in any meaningful or thoughtful way. All it's doing is producing the statistically most likely expected output to the input.

This is why you can ask ChatGPT "is mayonnaise a palindrome?" and it will respond "No it's not." but then you ask "Are you sure? I think it is" and it will respond "Actually it is! Mayonnaise is spelled the same backward as it is forward"

All it's doing is trying to sound like it's providing a correct answer. It doesn't actually know what a palindrome is even if it has a function capable of checking for palindromes (it doesn't). It's not "Artificial Intelligence" by any meaning of the term, it's just called AI because that's a discipline of programming. It doesn't inherently mean it has intelligence.

So if you use an AI and expect it to make something that's been made with careful thought or consideration, you're gonna get fucked over. It's not even a quality issue. It just can't consistently produce things of value because there's no understanding there. It doesn't "know" because it can't "know".

#rant #political rant #it technology

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cherie-doll · 1 day ago

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hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

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jillsandwhichs · 3 days ago

Text

Forced to love you

Chapter 11 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You've been forced into an arranged marriage with Mr. Miller, a rich businessman, also known for being a bit cold and straight forward. Neither of you wanted this but you suppose you two will make it work somehow

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 4.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Smut - Making out, Dirty talk, Oral (Both receive), Overstimulation, Spanking, Protected P in V, Doggy style, Hair pulling, Choking, Clit rubbing, You both finish, Slight aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Placing your purse down on the marble counter, you took in the large cliff side mansion you're inside of right now. The large window panels all along the kitchen wall display the beautiful bodies of water and all of the colorful homes surrounding it. Greece is really such a beautiful place - you just wish you weren't here on these terms. The terms of a honeymoon you didn't even want.

Oh but father & mother dearest know best, right? At least they think they do. Having you merge with another wealthy family is just their way of further building their empire. Of course, you have received the short end of the stick, again, being forced to marry Joel Miller - a wealthy business man with a broody attitude about him.

Speaking of, you turned around to see him carrying in your suitcases. He set them down and looked up at you. You looked away, gazing back out at the water, admiring how it glistened and called out to you. "Your father called me while I was outside, he wants to know how you're doing, so I suggest you call him soon." "Will do." "We are also to have dinner tonight, your father made us reservations in town, so dress up and look pretty."

You scoffed and looked down at what you're already wearing. It's a peachy pink flowy dress that goes down to just above your ankles. It pair with it, you're wearing sandals that your mother gifted you for your birthday a few months back. "Do I not look pretty right now." You couldn't care less if he finds you attractive or not, but seriously? This outfit is it. "You do. My apologies. Wear that then." Joel stated.

Admittedly, you blushed a little bit.

You didn't want to marry Joel, hell, you want to divorce him this instant, but he isn't the worst man. Earlier today, before the ceremony, Joel had told you he'd respect you and be there for you, which came as a surprise. Everyone told you he was an asshole who was all about work & money. Maybe he is, but he's been decent to you so far. It better remain that way.

"What time are the reservations?" "For six until seven. It's as a restaurant in the city, it's beautiful so don't worry, it'll be to your taste." "Do you think I'm some spoiled brat or something?" "Yeah." The audacity! You rolled your eyes and he smirked. "Don't roll your eyes at me." "Or what?" "You'll find out if you do it again." "Whatever." You turned back to face the windows. "I'm going to unpack my things, I advise you do the same soon." Joel said before walking off into the bedroom of the mansion - the singular one there is.

It's late now. Nearly 7:30 at night. You two had dinner and it was nice. Your father had made the reservations in hopes of you and Joel getting to know one another better - and you did. He does seemingly care about his work and his money but it surely isn't his life. Still, you're keeping him at bay. You're sure the two of you will be cheating on each other and despising one another in no time!

Joel is currently in the shower, you're in the room just outside of it. The bedroom is nice, it came with complimentary essentials and honestly anything you'd need for a week in Greece. You're originally from the U.S, Joel too, but your mother had you pick between either going to Spain or Greece and of course, Greece it was. That was literally the only thing you had say in when it came to your wedding, sadly.

Looking through the nighttime attire your mother packed for you to wear, you soon came to realize a theme. Literally everything is revealing. You scoffed and groaned loudly, all of the city could probably hear it. The most modest piece of attire that was packed is a short lenghted silky nightgown. The base color is pink with a lacy white trim. It's cute, but your mother obviously wants you and Joel to connect in more ways than one.

You have to work with what you have though.

You took off the clothes you were currently wearing and threw them into the basket on the other side of the room. Of course, you kept your panties on but removed your bralette - you shouldn't wear those to bed. The nightgown is comfortable. Soft & cozy. Glancing in the mirror, you smiled. You feel pretty. The sound of the shower turning off was heard and you sighed softly. Guess that's all the alone time you'll be getting.

Joel isn't a bad guy. You two just... Aren't made for one another. This is truly depressing.

Climbing into bed, you tucked yourself beneath the covers and grabbed the remote off of the bedside table. You told your father that if anything, you'll need a suite with a TV - it'll take your mind off of things. You doom scrolled through different channels until you settled on one with a cooking show. Not the best option, but it is distracting enough. As your eyes were casted upon the television, Joel walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist.

You were quick to look away. Admittedly, you felt wrong when looking. However, your brain is totally working against you. There's no denying he's an attractive man, because he is. You even said that to him. Attraction isn't the point though. He grabbed a pair of pajamas and began to change but in a way so you couldn't see, thank the Lord. At least he has decency!

When he was done, Joel ambled back into the room and over to the bed, where you were lying down. "Want me to take a different room? I'm sure the couch is comfortable enough." He said softly, just trying to get this ordeal done and over with. That's harsh. You won't do that to him. "No Joel, that's alright. If we're to be married for life, we better get used to this lifestyle." You snorted with sarcasm, scooching over on the bed to provide him with some room.

He nodded and sat down, running his hand through his damp hair. You couldn't help yourself - you gazed at him. Wow, he cleans up nicely. Too bad this marriage was an arranged one. You sighed deeply and he noticed. "You good?" "I'm fine. Just tired." You said softly, nestling your head against the pillows. He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too." He laid back and shut his lamp off, but you left yours on.

"Going to bed already?" "Trying to." He said in a deep voice, "Mind turning that TV off?" Ugh. "Not at all." You shut it off and laid back just as he did. Well, this is awkward. You're laying in bed with a man you met today, married and had dinner with. What a fucking shit show. You rolled over to face him and his eyes were already on you. Behind the bed frame is a large window, the moonlight casted down onto you two, specifically you & your face. It's pleasant, honestly.

Joel sighed deeply before clearing his throat. "You know, for what it is worth," he looked into your eyes, "I don't think you're half bad." He chuckled and looked down. You giggled and nodded. "Everyone said you were an asshole, I'll admit, I was nervous to meet you." "Eh, I definitely am an ass but to my now wife, I won't be. I can't be." He mumbled and looked back up at you, his eyes stark & piercing, making you feel a certain type of way.

That made you smile. This man isn't so bad after all. You know he'll make a good friend. Hopefully you two can sort out being with other people later, it'll be for the best. You sighed softly and viewed into his eyes once again, this time they were more gentle and kind. How sweet. "Is everything okay?" You whispered, biting your lower lip. "Of course." He nodded. "By the way," Joel smirked and looked you up and down, "that nightgown suits you well." He murmured.

That made you blush, truly. How kind of him to say. You thought the same thing. "Doesn't it? I like it a lot... Yeah, unfortunately, mother dearest only packed me... Sexual attire... So..." You snorted. "Well, that ain't so bad..." Joel said in his normal voice. "What do you mean?" "Uh," he chuckled and broke eye contact, "Nothing sweetheart, ignore me."

Sweetheart? He's calling you names now? It made your stomach heat up. You slowly nudged closer to him without even realizing it. "Sweetheart? Admittedly, I like that." You giggled and you were now closer to him, so close you could feel the warmth emitting from his jacked build. "Hah," Joel laughed, "Figured you would." His laugh is... Adorable. That laugh coming from a big burly man is the cutest thing.

Maybe you could learn to... You don't know, care for this man in more ways than one?

Joel gandered back up at you, his gaze back to that starkish glaring one but this time, there was something more in those brown eyes of his. Something of adrenaline and/or ecstasy. It made you get slightly shy, really. "Joel?-" you were instantly cut off by his lips pressing to yours in a manner you didn't expect. You moaned immediately and encased your arms around his neck, Joel quickly rushing to get on top of you.

His hands pinned yours above your head and his lips rapidly moved with yours. This escalated so fast. You can't even think straight. "Wait, wait," you kissed him back and smiled, his hands holding your wrists firmly. "Hmm?" He muttered out, beginning to kiss your neck side crazily, his lips all over, leaving marks and presses. "This is totally shocking, are we gonna?-" "Am I going to fuck you? Only if you want me to."

God damnit, why did him saying that turn you on? You're a virgin. The most you've done is suck a guy off and it was terribly embarrassing. "So, do you want me to?" Joel added, stopping his kisses and awaiting an answer. Do you? This man is your husband, yes, but only as of today. You feel nervous. "I..." "Yes or no? I won't be upset." He whispered softly, his lips so soft against your neck.

"Yes."

It came out so smoothly & simply, as if this was meant to happen. "That'a girl." Joel smirked against your neck before kissing your lips again and slipping his tongue into your mouth, allowing it to intertwine with yours. It felt good. He makes you feel good. Unfortunately, this is a battle of Lust vs Love and lust is heavily taking over. Either way though, you're too deep now to back out and really, you don't even want to. You want him to take your purity - he is your life long partner now.

As the two of you kissed, it was a heated one. You haven't kissed someone in such a long time, you forgot how exciting it is. His hand trailed down to his shirt before he took it off, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. You took your chance to feel up on him, touching his chest and his lower abdomen area. You felt his V line and it is so prominent - that really turns you on. Joel is sexy. Maybe him railing you won't be so bad...

He smiled as you felt him. You touched all over his torso area. He's built and he's built well. "Can you do something for me?" He whispered into your small ear before kissing it gently. "Mhm." You whimpered out. "Have you ever given a man a blowjob before." He pulled away and smirked. Oh, you know where this is going. "A long time ago, yes." "Hmm," Joel smiled and kissed your forehead. "Wanna do that for me?" He asked you, so kindly. "I do." You nodded. You do.

Joel nodded and adjusted his seating position. Now he was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. Perfect positioning for you to make him all sorts of dumb. You smiled and pulled your hair back, ensuring it won't get in the way. He is wearing a light pair of sweatpants, some that'll come off rather easily. The imprinting of his hard cock is noticeable. You're practically drooling at this point.

You pulled him out of his pants, a slight bit of pre cum lies right on his tip. So hot. So sexy. You bit your lower lip before wettenening them, overall just preparing yourself. "You'll do so good baby." Baby... Oh fuck, that's so hot. You smiled and leaned down before quickly wrapping your lips around the head of his dick, just testing the waters. Joel was haste to seeth and let out a faint grunt. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be good." He murmured to himself.

Then and there, you started to suck his cock. He's hard, rock hard. The first guy you ever blew wasn't like this. In a way, you're glad Joel is this turned on, it shows that maybe this isn't just a lustful thing for him. But what do you know? It probably is. I mean, you two will eventually have sex, especially if he doesn't agree to the affair orders. Enough of that though, you just wanna focus on pleasuring him right now.

You swirled your tongue all along his cock, from the base to the tip, all over. Joel simply watched you in awe. There's no denying your beauty and watching you of all people give him a blowjob, he's under your spell. You used your hand to jerk the spots you weren't focusing on as you licked his tip. His pre cum was slightly thick and it had a sweet taste to it. God, you want to swallow his semen terribly.

You closed your eyes as you moved your head faster, suckling his cock as quickly and perfectly as you could. "Fuck, that feels so good." Joel moaned and his hand now rested on the back of your head. "Good girl, fuck." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. You're like a witch, winding him under your seduction. He pushed your head down slightly, forcing you to take his dick deeper into your mouth.

After a little while longer, he twitched in your mouth and that's how you knew he was just about to finish. You took the opportunity to shove your head all the way down, his tip hitting your throat and your eyes as watery as ever - and it worked. "Christ, oh fuck." Joel gasped out as he came deep into your throat, his sweet cum seeping into your mouth until you swallowed it all. Joel snickered and gazed at you in surprise.

"Holy fuck, you got a mouth on you." You giggled at his words. "So I've been told." You smiled. "Yeah? Come here." He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. You laughed and kissed him, your lips locking with his. He breathed in deeply as you kissed him. Your kisses are full of ecstasy and need. "I want you to ride my face." He stated in between kisses. God. That's just what you need.

Once again, he fixed his seating position and this time, laid all the way back until his head was on the pillow. "I've never done this before." "You don't got anything to worry about, I'll be doing all the work. You just sit on my face and relax." The way he talks is so attractive, really. You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay then." You took off your panties and threw them on the ground beside his shirt from earlier. "Now c'mere."

Listening, you climbed over his body and over to his face. His hands held onto your thighs and he pulled you down. You felt the slight prickle from his beard on your area and you sighed deeply. You know Joel will take good care of you. "Just take it baby." Was all he said before he then began to feast upon you. This isn't how you expected it to feel. It feels amazing. Joel really knows what he's doing. "Oh Jesus Christ." Your head was already tossed back.

His tounge was clearly all over your pussy, your so very wet pussy. You moaned loudly and held onto the headboard. It definitely feels a bit awkward & unhinged but fuck, Joel is just going at it, how can you not just allow it? "That feels so fucking amazing." You laughed and looked down. His eyes were closed. He's in the moment. All he wants to do is please you and to taste you and God, you taste heavenly.

Gripping the bedframe, you began to slowly grind your cunt against his face. You can't help yourself, it feels too good. "Oh Joel." You moaned softly, your body shaking faintly. His hands held onto your thighs, he was literally gripping them with force. His tongue protruded at your hole, sticking it in and out of it quickly before going back to suckling on your pulsing clit. You're so wet. You're so fucking horny.

This is not how you expected tonight to go.

"I feel like..." God, you haven't felt this in a good bit. It's only when you're touching yourself that you do. "Cum for me sweetheart." He detached from your pussy only for a moment and just to say that. "Oh fuck!" Your body shook and your eyes squeezed shut as you came. Joel didn't stop. He sucked and licked all over as you came. It was so overstimulating. "Oh, fuck, stop, stop!" You yelled out and he was detached just like that.

You got off of his face and giggled loudly, looking at him as you caught your breath. "That was great." You snickered and layed back. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." He smiled and leaned over, kissing your cheek, then your pretty pink lips. "I still want you." You swathed your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He smiled into the kiss and nodded. "Here." He pulled away from the kiss and flipped you over, landing you on your stomach and pulling your ass up.

Doggy style, hmm, okay.

You giggled and rubbed your rear along his manhood, causing him to get hard all over again. "Dirty girl." He murmured before spanking you, causing you to moan loudly. You didn't expect that. You guess this man is kinky. "Are you a virgin?" He whispered into your ear before kissing behind it. "I am." "Okay baby, I'll be gentle." He said in a soft tone before pulling back behind you. He pulled his pants down, then lifted your nightgown up, revealing your bare ass to him.

Joel reached over and grabbed a condom from the drawer. There were some in the bathroom too. Honeymoon suites do not mess around. He slipped it over his hard cock and looked back down at you. "If it hurts at all, just tell me." "Okay." You nodded and smiled, looking straight ahead as you waited for him. Within that minute, he stuck himself inside of you, slowly and passionately. You moaned and felt your insides tighten at the sudden feeling.

"Loosen up baby, it'll feel better." You had to calm yourself down. You're suddenly nervous and a bit on edge. "Want me to stop?" "No, please no." You said softly, holding onto the bedsheets below you. "Just be gentle." "Of course." Joel responded. He began to move but his strokes were subtle and gentle. He doesn't want to hurt you. "You feel so good." He said in a deep voice, pushing himself in and out of you.

It's a whole new sensation. It feels like a delicacy. Goodness, it's great. "It does feel nice." You giggled and nuzzled your head against the bed, just letting loose and allowing Joel to make the most out of this expirence. "You're so beautiful." He whispered before his movements picked up, but barely. He just wants you to be okay. "Just like that." You moaned out and closed your eyes, now just relishing in the feeling of him within you.

A little bit after you entirely adjusted to him, his hips rocked against your ass a bit quicker now. The feeling was exquisite. You've never felt this way before. "So fucking tight, Jesus Christ." Joel grunted as he fucked you, his dick going into you at a pace in which was perfect, it was magnificent. "Joel!" You moaned and attempted to lift your head up and as you tried, he shoved you back down, his hand going to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

Oh, you liked that. It was sudden but very arousing.

As he slammed into you now, his pace not gentle as it was, all you could do was take it. Like this, it is even better, you just needed a minute to adjust. "Maybe this marriage won't be so bad." You giggled out to Joel and he smiled, though you couldn't see it. "That's what I like to hear." He spanked you again and this time, your back arched even more. This is amazing. You really didn't think this would happen but wow, what an outcome it is.

Joel's hand trailed up into your hair and somehow, you knew what he'd do because before you knew it, he was pulling on it. Your head was being pulled back roughly but the pain mixed with the pleasure was perfect. You moaned loudly and held your breath as he fucked you, hard. Him pulling on your hair, fucking you and talking to you all at once was too much.

"I'm gonna cum again." You moaned out, closing your eyes. "Cum for me sweetheart." He whispered before reaching over and holding onto not only your hair, but now your neck. He lifted you up until your back was against his front. His hand was now around your neck and his other around your stomach, holding you close. This is it. You moaned softly as you felt his plunge into you a few more times until he ultimately came first, which then caused your undoing.

As you came, he caressed your clit with haste and your body shook, even more than it did with your first orgasm. "God, you take it so well." Joel grunted as he kissed behind your ear whilst rubbing your nub and pushing himself into you. There were so many feelings all at once, it was amazing. You giggled and bit your lip, closing your eyes and simply intaking the enjoyable & pleasurable moment.

Coming down from your high and snapping back into reality, Joel pulled out of you with a chuckle and you two laid down on the bed together. He took off the condom and set it on the table; He can throw it away later. "So..." You began with a faint giggle and Joel bellowed. "You were amazing." He leaned over and kissed your forehead. "Are you okay? Did I break ya?" He joked. You nodded. "Yes to both." He laughed at your sentence.

"I feel so..." "Hmm?" "Good." You giggled and spun over to face him. "Let's do it again!" You climbed on top of him and he laughed out, holding your hips. "Let's do it then."

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