vemathie

[vemathie]

riding clark's face with his glasses still on and them fogging up but he doesn't care because he REFUSES to pull his tongue away from your pussy and refuses to let go of your thighs and ass...

[vemathie]

thinking deeply and heavily about clark being all desperate and messy when you're just making out...

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp, sub!clark, dry humping, ruined orgasm, dirty talk.

like, that man is SO down bad. you put your lips on his, and he's already leaning back on the couch, closing his eyes and grabbing your hips. pulling you down with him, chest to chest. and the kisses at first are soft, but he still can't help the little groans that come out of his mouth into yours as your hands run down his neck and start unbuttoning his shirt.

but his brain's short-circuiting because he's hard already—goddamn, he's fucking Superman and the only thing he can't do is take control of his body when you're on top of him. (embarrassing. so fucking embarrassing.) that's his constant thought until you roll your hips down against his bulge, and any image in his mind just vanishes.

he grips your hips harder, fingers digging in and bucking up against you. the whimper falling out of him so easy. “baby, shit,” he gasps. it's so cute how he loses his mind every time.

“i know, i know,” yes, of course, you know. you feel his dick through his pants, feel it pressing, like it’s actually trying to force its way inside you already. but you would be lying if you said that you don't love this version of clark. this mess of groans and pleads and full-body shivers, like he wasn't saving the goddamn world just a few hours ago.

it's something that should be honestly studied. how the fuck does this man turns into such a puddle? his head's back on the cushion as you speed up the roll of your hips. and his voice cracks. “hah, no— stop, please,” the only thing you're able to do with that answer is smirk and kiss him harder. this time he opens his mouth like some starved chick waiting to be fed, and the second your tongue touches his—

he grabs the back of your neck, making you gasp and let out a little laugh. he's always so fucking greedy. won't even let you pull back to breathe. “you're— evil, so, so— fuck, evil,” he chokes out, hips snapping up again.

you know him like the back of your hand, you know how he sounds when he's close, how his body gets tense but his eyes go all glassy like his brain’s buffering. you know he doesn’t wanna cum in his pants like this and make a mess of them—but god, the way you’re rocking against him, moaning into his mouth, licking his tongue, tugging at his curls is just purely and innately evil. and when you press your lips to his cheek, licking a stripe down his jaw, trailing lower to his neck??

he can't take it anymore.

he gets one hand down your pants, fingers kneading your ass, pulling you harder against him. “you really love—”

you shut him up. shoving your fingers into his mouth, and he moans around them instantly. “clark,” you murmur, teeth scraping the skin of his neck. “just cum, baby,” that earns you a groan, his hips jerking like he’s trying to get away from his own orgasm, but it’s pointless now. you watch him—eyes squeezed shut, panting, sucking on your fingers like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

and then you hear it. that sound. the soft rip at the seam of his pants.

“nnghh,” he chokes on your fingers, and he's cumming hard in his boxers. ugh, again, why did i do it again? he thinks. you feel the warmth of it through the fabric, sticky, soaking his underwear, white ropes gluing him down as he throws his head back, gasping. his free hand’s clinging to the cushion until you hear the fabric tear.

“sweetheart,” he rasps, voice half-gone. “you keep making me cum like this, i’m gonna go fucking crazy.”

but you know he's not done.

because next thing you know, you’re flipped onto your back. he’s yanking his pants and ruined boxers off, his dick still semi-hard, glistening, still fucking leaking like his body doesn’t understand it’s supposed to stop.

and then—he shows you the mess. holds up his boxers like evidence.

“this is a humiliation ritual,” he deadpans. or tries to. the corner of his mouth betrays him first. even more when you laugh and blush about it, because fuck, you love this man.

his boxers are, indeed, all stained white, soaked through. “no one's gonna take me seriously if they find my boxers like this, are they?” he asks, dropping his voice, leaning closer to you as he pulls the rest of your clothes off.

you grin. “i guess not.”

“oh, you're feeling bold now?” he smiles. kissing down your stomach and tugging your panties down with greedy, shaky fingers. “wanna see how bold you feel after this.”

[vemathie]

excuse me for stating the obvious but like. james gunn outright calling superman an immigrant and doubling down on it when he got backlash (because he IS an immigrant, that's the point of superman) + the in-movie dialogue of "aren't you going to read me my rights?" "you're an extraterrestrial, son. you haven't got any rights to read." + the violence of his arrest and how they torture and mistreat him unapologetically, all under the guise of "protecting america", in a film releasing during the onslaught of violent ICE kidnappings and abuse... yeah it's really no wonder right-wing knobheads are crying about this being woke. they're being forced to look directly at the reasons one of the most notorious heroes of all time would not be on their side. and that's only ONE of the reasons this movie covers

[vemathie]

warnings: smut (mdni), rough sex, overstimulation, bodily fluids (sweat, cum, tears), g!p, breast play, veryyy messy, fem!reader.

“come on,” caitlyn groans, her head pressed against the pillow, forehead glistening with sweat that's dripping down her entire overheated body. she's trying to sound firm, but it's a total failure the second you obey—rolling your hips forward—and her long, ragged moan rips out.

“cait…” you mumble against her chest, your cheek just as sticky and damp as hers, legs trembling like they're seconds from giving out. but she's got you locked down—her arms wrapped tight. she won't let you pull her cock out, because that would mean she'd lose the unbearable closeness of being buried inside the warmth of your pussy.

god, she gets so embarrassingly soft when her brain is fucked stupid from too many orgasms—so sugary and clingy that her usual self would look at her like she'd grown a second head.

she’s got no patience when your movements falter. her hands clamp down on your ass, squeezing and dragging you back to grind into her, all the way down. and fuck, you're taking her so deep that it's obscene. she could die like this—just die, balls-deep in you—and it'd be a goddamn perfect way to go.

“i said, keep going,” she snarls, punctuating her command with a sharp spank. the sound ricochets through the room, followed by a broken, high-pitched whimper you can’t swallow down. caitlyn's lips twitch into a shaky grin.

her eyes trail down as you lift your chest off hers, planting your hands firmly just under her breasts. her gaze flicks from your flushed face to the way your chest heaves, nipples tight and glistening. she can't stop staring. she won't stop staring.

that sweet little frown you always make when you're overwhelmed drives her crazy. she loves pushing you to your limit. watching you throw your head back, biting your lip like it'll somehow hold the noises—but it doesn’t. the drawn-out moan you let out when you start bouncing on her cock again drives her fucking insane.

her hips buck up like a reflex, and she nearly spills right there, teeth sinking into her bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. she can’t keep up—wasn’t ready for you to get your second wind, for you to start fucking her like that.

“ha-ah,” she pants, her hand flies up, grabbing your tit. fingers kneading and rolling, desperate to find any sort of the lost grounding that left her hazy.

she’s trying to hold back, but you’re relentless. and when you moan her name—cait!—like it’s the only thing on your mind. her attention snaps right back to you. your mouth is open, gasping and begging, but your body isn’t slowing down. in fact, your pussy is clenching around her, pulling her in deeper, wetter, hotter.

“wasn't so hard, was it?” she rasps, breathless and teasing. not even sure you can hear her with the way your hips slam down on hers. the slap of your ass against her thighs, the sticky mix of both your cum smeared everywhere—it’s filthy. a disgusting, beautiful, filthy mess. and it makes her cock ache, her balls tightening almost painfully. “doing so good.”

she can already tell you're not lasting longer than this, and she has to enjoy the moments where she has you here, lucid.

“i—i can't—” caitlyn sees it—the moment your body seizes, your moans climbing into a scream as you cum again, your pussy clamping down hard and gushing around her. it’s like your body is trying to milk her dry.

“please, cait… please, cum,” you beg into her chest, mouth latching onto her breast, sucking with a hunger that feels almost desperate. “can't—can't take it anymore.”

your pussy clenches her cock, and she's not patient enough to play around anymore. her feet plants against the mattress as her hips surge up, thrusting into you—with a ferocity that makes the bed creak and groan like it’s about to snap in half. the sharp slap of skin against skin fills the room, drowning out your whimpers, your begging—please, cait, I can’t— but she’s not listening.

she’s drunk on the feeling of your walls fluttering and squeezing her cock. every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, your body limp against hers, but she doesn’t care. her nails dig into your sweat-slick skin as she uses your body like it’s hers. because it is.

“that's it,” she growls, her head thrown back against the pillow. “take it. just—fuck, take it.” her cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat. she doesn’t give you a second to breathe, doesn’t ease up even as you sob into her neck, tears and spit smearing against her skin.

her whole body tenses, muscles locking as she slams you down, grinding deep as her cock throbs, spilling into you in hot, thick waves. it’s too much, spilling out around her before she even finishes.

her thrusts turn slow, shallow and lazy, as she rides out her orgasm, panting against your ear, her hands trembling against your hips. “good girl,” she whispers, her voice wrecked and low, pressing a kiss to your temple. and you're begging in your mind that she doesn't want to have another round.

[vemathie]

being caitlyn's pretty lil cumdump

tw; overstimulation, breeding kink, spitplay, cumplay, girlcock, she sucks her cum out of your cunt and spits it back in your mouth to make room for another load, cumdump

caitlyn who is fucking in and out of your hole until your thighs are on fire and your cunt is numb and seeping out milky white because you're not physically capable of holding anymore. because cum is pulsing endlessly out of you like goop and gushing a river into the bedsheets and when she can't fuck it back into you anymore because it keeps flooding out the base of her cock. caitlyn gets sick of it. growling and biting into your skin in frustration because why can't you take more? gods know she has more to give. she has needs. for example, the need to fuck you till her balls are wrung dry and you're so full of her til your head is empty your words are gibberish and you can't even feel the thrusts of her cock anymore.

so she's wrenching her cock out and licking hot back down your abdomen, kissing down the taut stretch of your swollen belly and descending on your loose pussy as you cry and thrash and squirm upwards helplessly because you've been fucked and filled to the point where there's nothing you can feel but her fingers and her tongue and the phantom slam of her cock. so empty-headed you barely even realise it when she's sucking her own cum out of your cunt to make room for another load because she doesn't give a shit what your body is telling her or what mewls are coming out of your mouth say. you're not done til she says so. caitlyn's yanking you by the neck for an open-mouthed kiss and spitting her own cum back into your mouth. loves the way it pools in your mouth and you jerk to gulp it in before to choke. loves the way you look, only the whites of your eyes showing as your pupils flutter furiously at the edge of your lids like they’re jammed, like your body is stuttering, like it can't even process what she’s putting it through. how your cheeks and chin are coated with the thick mixture of her cum and saliva and she croons, back arching when she shoves herself back in again. makes it just in time for her to add another hot creamy burst into the mess in your tummy. and your leaking pussy slurps her up so eagerly. so greedily, still, because she’s fucked you so warm and full and stupid it feels wrong to be anything else but caitlyn's pretty little cumdump.

[vemathie]

thinking about writing some caitvi related to this tweet

[vemathie]

warnings: smut (mdni), thigh humping, fem!reader.

thigh humping vi because she just wanted to have a nice, chill cuddle session with you but instead she got you all worked up in her lap sprawled out on the worn-out couch and you couldn't even help yourself :((

vi just wanted some comfort. laying down with you after such a stressful day, tangling her fingers in your hair and drifting off with your head warming her chest. no more, no less.

but it seems like your brain had different plans of how to spend the night with your lovely girlfriend. because her chest's so firm and comfy, and you can feel her heart thumping gently against her ribs. big, protective arms wrapping around you, her hand stroking your skin like you're the most precious thing to ever exist—to her, you're everything and more.

she notices that your breath catches, and your nose nudges into her neck when her fingers rest lightly on your hip, moving in slow, lazy circles. notices how your legs shift (you're so bad at subtlety, but she’ll let you get away with it), trapping her thigh beneath you, pussy clad in just some flimsy lace panties. and then—oh—oh. the first slow roll of your hips against her bare thigh. her breath stutters. eyes crack open, half-lidded, just in time to catch your guilty little face.

her brain’s like, shit am i dating a horndog? simple answer to a simple question: yes. yes, she totally is.

and she's gotta indulge you, doesn't she? there’s no saying no to that sweet, needy little whimper. not when she's disgustingly in love with you. so, of course, she lets you. guides your hips with firm, calloused hands, back and forth, thinking about how good it'd feel to actually fuck you if you weren't so desperate and impatient to get off. listening to your ah–hah, vi, fuck, all breathy and broken now. your knees start burning with the friction against the couch as you get more and more riled up picking up the pace.

tits pressed to her chest, your hard nipples rubbing against hers. moans turning so fucking loud and high-pitched vi’s glad no one's around to hear the shameless sounds her sweet girl does.

her loud groan surprises her when your mouth crashes into hers. messy. wet. sloppy. her fingers dig into your ass, arm cradling your thigh, pulling you harder against her, hips rocking up to meet yours. fuck, you got her turned on too. and now she can feel the soft tickle of your bush brushing the skin of her thigh. “hmm, hah,” she hums when your tongue slips into her mouth, she completely forgot what she was thinking. your tongue playing with hers is way better than whatever dumb thing she could've said.

it doesn’t take long (she knew it when your hips started slacking off) to have your body's shuddering as you cum, soaking through your panties, and leaving a sticky, damp mess on her thigh. you bury your flushed face in her neck, trying to hide from the fact that you just came all over her, as if you weren't the one who started it all. she just laughs, low and teasing, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“could’ve just said you wanted to fuck,” she murmurs—ugh, the smug bastard she is—hands still gripping your hips while your legs shake against her. not that she’s complaining. not even a little.

“i didn't wanna fuck,” you whisper, voice all offended, like she’s got some nerve even suggesting that. you just wanted to have a moment. ’s not your fault she’s so hot and her strong thigh makes your pussy wet, right?

[vemathie]

warnings: smut (mdni), power dynamics, free-use, domestic kink, housewife!reader.

being caitlyn's free-use housewife and letting her do whatever she damn well pleases. doesn't matter the time or the place. though caitlyn gets so fucking wet specially when she comes home to find you in the kitchen, cooking for her in your little apron like some picture-perfect 1950s wife. it’s almost unfair how much she loves you—adores you, really.

and you turn her on so easily. it's kinda your fault that she can't keep her hands off you. she loves how you don't complain—never push her away. you just part your legs like the obedient little thing you've always been, letting her plunge those long, deft fingers into your wet pussy.

because your body knows her. pavlovian-level shit and all that. the second you hear the front door open, the rhythmic click of her boots against the polished floor, your pussy practically starts leaking in anticipation. caitlyn's noticed that, she notices every little thing about you.

it's fucking magical. divine. you’re her gift after the shitstorm that is her life lately, and she’s damn well going to enjoy you.

her fingers push deeper into you, hitting that sweet little spot that makes you jump. little gasps, moans, whimpers tumble out of you like it's the only thing you know how to do. she doesn’t wanna stop hearing them, not ever.

makes her chest all warm and proud, as she drags in and out, in and out her long pale fingers that your pussy loves so, so much. greedy little thing always clinging to her, like you're built for this and nothing else.

“that's it, darling,” she murmurs, her lips grazing your flushed cheek as her icy blue eyes drink you in—parted lips, lids heavy, hands gripping the counter so tight your knuckles turn white. and she keeps going, her fingers curling, dragging out those sweet, broken little sounds that she could live off forever.

[vemathie]

EVA . . . (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

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