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rassvetsky · 1 year

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Star Spangled Singer

part one | part two

"Steve wasn't sure what got into him when he had you all to himself in that Star Spangled Singer outfit, but the way you touched him made the rest of the USO tour girls back in 40's pale in comparison."

[3k] | could be read as a standalone, fem!reader, just smut tbh, established relationship, switch dynamics, reader dressed up as a uso tour girl for halloween, dirty talk, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v action, they're desperate asf. kind of a gift to @takeyour-pants-off thank you for pushing me into the depths of horniness. yes. ilysm.

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

You've never seen Steve like this.

There were times where he was a lot more relaxed, joking around with everyone with a smile on his lips. There were times where he was serious, usually during briefings and missions. There were times where he was filled to the brim with affection, not letting you get out of bed just because he has to hold you, until you quite literally beg, in which he'll only let you go with pouts and declarations of how unthankful and evil you were for leaving him all alone.

And of course, there were times where he just couldn't keep his hands off of you. But even during those times, he always had it together, kept his composure and mostly, remained serious.

Now, you didn't know who this was and what he did to your Steve, but you weren't complaining.

You shrugged his earlier flustered state off, thinking that it's just the nostalgia, maybe seeing you in a Star Spangled Singers outfit brought along a lot of memories and he didn't know how to comprehend all that. Didn't even know how to ask you, his long-time girlfriend if she'd like anything to drink. But even after hours, when you two returned to your shared room at the compound to cherish Halloween through shitty early 2000's horror movies and sweets stolen from the main areas, he was still a bit jumpy.

And you felt so guilty for making jokes about how he was right back in the 40's upon seeing you in that outfit, with the way he acted and spoke around you.

Because this Steve, who's currently busy literally begging you to not take off the outfit -even after you said that you wanted to go to sleep- but refusing to explain why, was definitely 40's Steve.

The Steve that just lost his virginity to a Star Spangled Singer.

"Just keep it on for a little longer," he was sitting by the edge of the bed with you standing between his legs, palms against the back of your upper thighs right below your red and white flowy skirt, clad in black pantyhose. "It's not everyday that you see your girlfriend dressed up like this."

"Steve," you sighed, thumbs drawing circles above his collarbones as you held onto his shoulders. "I'll keep it on if you just tell me why. Otherwise, I'm taking it off and going to bed, I got up way too early today to help Natasha with decorations and-"

What cut you off was his gaze. The way he looked up at you from where you stood. His eyes seemed sparklier than ever for some reason, and even under the dim light, you could see the underlying plea. "Just tell me, baby."

"I don't get why it- seeing you like this- it makes me feel some type of way," he sighed out, nuzzling his face slightly to your palm when you brought it up to caress his cheek. "But Y/N, you look incredible. Beyond words."

"That's not a reason for me to keep this on. Elaborate." you spoke, a bit firm despite the way you tilted your head to the side cutely. You were picking up on the signs obviously, not like he was doing anything to hide his hard-on anyway, but it was so fun to see his composure crumbling.

He must have been too turned on to think properly.

He just looked at you after that, unable to find the correct words- almost as if he completely forgot the entirety of the English language at that moment. His breathing got a bit more shallow, you noticed, from the way his chest heaved and he had to part his lips. You ran your thumb along his lower lip, feeling the soft & plump flesh under your fingertip before leaning in to whisper in his ear, giving him a clear view of your cleavage. The deep V cut of the blue vest didn't help, either. "Since you're not telling me anything, we're taking this off of me."

He visibly shuddered at how you said 'we', instead of 'I'.

You stood straight again after getting a hold of both of his hands, a proud grin on your lips as you led them right under your skirt. "Starting with the tights."

Steve gave you a quick nod before his fingers found their way to the waistband of the pantyhose, starting to pull it down slowly after hooking his fingers on it. You watched the way he took his lower lip in between his teeth, eyes trained on the way the thin layer of clothing slowly slid down your thighs, all the way down to your calves before he pulled them off of your feet.

That must've given him some courage, you thought, because unlike his former timid behavior, he was a lot more touchy on his way up, one hand on your waist as the other rested on the back of your thigh again. He pulled your leg forward a little bit, letting you rest your knee on the mattress and get closer to him before nuzzling his face onto your wrist, leaving a soft kiss on the pulse point. "You should've kept the gloves on."

"You should've stopped telling me what to do minutes ago." you snapped back, getting a hold of his chin to make him look up at you again. "You wanna fuck me in this outfit so bad, don't you?"

He nodded against your hold, fingertips digging deeper into you as you chuckled. "That's what I want, too. Got so wet thinking about it when we were watching that god-awful movie." the side of his lips tugged upwards in a faint smile at that. "Thought you could just push this fucking skirt up a bit and play with my clit lazily but seems like I managed to get Captain America all shy, huh?"

"I'm not shy."

"Let's not fool ourselves." you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, humming a bit when you felt his hand slipping upwards a bit, teasing the ends of our panties with his fingertips. You couldn't hold the strict demeanor up anymore as you reached in to catch his lips in a kiss, cradling his face in your palms as your lips slid in sync, impatiently. He was quick to pull you on his lap given the advantage, and you adjusted yourself just to sit right on his hard-on, grinding your soaked panties on his clothed length with a gasp.

And that must've given him a whole lot of courage because next thing you know, he was slipping his tongue through your lips, almost daring you to fight back with yours. Your skirt bunched up on your waist when he pushed it up a bit more, hands squeezing your hips roughly to grind you down harder.

Your gasps turned into messy whines against the sloppy kiss, lips wet and abused just from a few minutes of kissing with how rough both of you were being. If he pulled your lower lip with his teeth, you bit harder next time around. And that only turned him on more because he was gradually increasing the intensity like you.

You pulled back to catch your breath and to speak, possibly, but you couldn't help the way your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he took that opportunity to attach his lips on your neck, biting and sucking small marks with his tongue working to soothe every single bruise. Your fingers carded through his hair, gripping on the short strands with so much force that it pulled a groan out of Steve. "Fuck, Steve, calm down." you let out a breathy chuckle, causing him to pull away from your skin and look at you.

He seemed horny beyond comprehension.

"What's gotten into you, hm?" you spoke, still a bit breathless as your hands made their way to his face again, cupping his cheeks.

"Wanna fuck you so bad." he whispered as he couldn't trust his voice at that moment, eyes on your lips as if he just couldn't get away. "I'm going crazy."

"Yeah, seems like you actually are." you hummed, pushing him by his shoulders just so he could lay back on the bed, still straddling him. "But remember when you used to tell me to be patient whenever I got this way, Stevie? Remember how you'd slap my cunt just because I was going crazy for you?"

He let out a broken moan at that, eyes shut with his hands on your bare thighs. "So, be patient. Or else you might not get that dick wet tonight." you giggled to yourself, slowly pushing yourself up to your knees before reaching under your skirt, pulling your panties down.

"You're so- God, you're evil," he mumbled, helping you get rid of your panties nonetheless. You nodded with a hum before gripping his wrist, leading his palm all the way to your soaked cunt. A hiss left his lips when he felt how wet you acrually were, fingers spreading your essence through your folds, up to your clit before he started to circle it slowly. A soft whine left you, as you reached for his button-up shirt, unbuttoning it oh so slowly as if you had all the time in the world.

He didn't mind that as he carefully watched your reactions to the way his fingers moved against you, letting you push the material to both sides just to reveal his toned chest. You were already grinding on his fingers when you got to his pants, your whines becoming more consistent, eyes hardly open. "Steve, please."

"Please what?" God, you hated his guts sometimes.

"Please do something, I- anything, please," you sighed out, a type of bliss that got you desperate taking over your whole body. He wasn't going to tease you for long, not while he was way too turned on to even think straight, so he slowly wrapped his arms around you and switched your positions, now with you under him and him hovering over you. He was quick with the way he took off the rest of his clothes, instinctively giving his length a firm jerk, leaky tip way too sensitive to allow him anything more- he needed to be inside of you so bad.

But, a gentleman at heart, he ignored the instinct and kissed his way up from your parted legs, to your arms, to your neck again. His fingers found their way to your core again and you squirmed on the sheets under him, a sigh leaving you when he slipped one right inside, the second one following suit.

He was busy leaving his teeth marks all over your neck while his fingers thrusted in and out, hard enough to hear your slick hit against your own skin when it covered his hand, fast enough to have you moaning out his name in mere seconds. You were involuntarily clawing on his back, definitely leaving enough marks to have him complain about it by the next morning but you couldn't care less- his fingers felt way too good grazing against your walls and you would wear his marks on your neck with pride. It went both ways.

Finally, you felt a familiar knot forming, legs slightly shaking and your abdomen buzzing. He must've felt the way you clenched around his digits tighter and tighter, as he curled his fingers a little bit, making you see stars as you squirmed and writhed under him, moans way louder than before. "C'mon," he whispered, lips right under your ears as he left a kiss there. "Come for me, right on those fingers baby. Make a mess."

And you were sure that no human being would ever be able to resist him when he said it all like that, in that desperate voice as if your pleasure was his. A mindblowing orgasm took over your entire body, had you shaking completely and a moan of his name loud enough to be mistaken for a scream leaving your lips. Your vision was all white with your eyes shut tight, cunt gripping on his fingers like vice- tight enough to give him a hard time when he kept thrusting slowly to let you ride it down. "That's it, that's a good girl." he hummed, hot breath hitting your neck and trailing up to your lips, where he left a gentle kiss before pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to his lips.

You wrapped your arm around his neck loosely, composure barely regained when your free hand went in between your bodies, getting a hold of his hard & warm length and looking at him with pleading eyes, roles switched completely. Steve looked at you with understanding- knowing how nothing would ever come close to pleasing you the way his cock did, something you reminded him of quite often. So he didn't waste more time, hand meeting yours around his length when he let the tip brush through your folds to gather your wetness, waiting for you to pull your hand away before slowly pushing in.

A rough groan left his lips, sensitive whine left yours. It was a pleasant stretch each time even though he was literally gifted when it came to how thick he was, filling you up just right when he bottomed out. You felt so full to the brim, struggling to even form a thought when he was so deep inside of you, unable to do anything else than whining and squirming, just to feel something. He gave in rather easily this time and pulled out half-way, only to roughly thrust back in, sending you flinching away but he was there to hold you, arms wrapped around your clothed waist.

Your pathetic moans mixed up with his softer ones as he set a rough pace, too impatient to give you a second to recover from one before another followed. You could feel the outfit getting more and more damp with your sweat but you couldn't bring yourself to care, and neither could Steve, as he was busy watching the way your vest-covered breasts bounced with each thrust, little white stars on either side.

He was sure just the thought of tonight would be enough to elicit shudders later on.

Your walls were pulsating hard around him, the grip you had on his length tightening with each thrust, making it harder and harder for him to move- but he made up for that with increased intensity of his movements. His hips snapped against yours, the lewd sound filling up the entire room and giving you no time to breathe in the same amount of air you exhaled. That familiar knot was forming again, way more intense in the way it pushed you straight into overdrive, and God, it didn't help at all when Steve's pace faltered, strokes deeper and harder but less so in velocity.

"Fuck, gonna come," he panted against your ear, feeling your slick all the way down on his balls, the mess making his brain all mushy and awakening the most primal of all urges inside of him. You could only nod, not trusting your voice as your throat hurt a bit from how loud you were being, whines consistent with the way he kept grinding onto you. "Come with me, baby. Let me fill you up real good."

Not like you had any other option when the coil snapped, back arching from the bed and making your body press against his when you felt his hot seed fill up your insides to the brim, in the best way possible. You felt full enough to go numb, vision white until blurry, arms wrapped around his neck so tight that if he wasn't busy groaning out your name he would try to get out of that grip.

Your orgasm, surprisingly, was even more intense than the former. It had your toes curling, body shaking so hard that you could feel the mattress quake, a loud cry leaving your lips. Steve, despite the sensitivity, snapped his hips up once more before capturing your lips in a heated kiss, full-on spit and tongue with no care whatsoever.

You felt like you were on the clouds, wrapped up in the embrace of your lover.

"You there, honey?" he whispered against your wet lips after pulling away a bit, eyes closed with a grin on his lips as you nodded slowly. "Earth to Y/N."

"Feel so full, Stevie." you mewled out, letting out a soft hiss when he slowly sat up and pulled out of you, fingers immediately finding your core again just to run the tips over his come leaking out.

"I know, baby. I know. But we don't waste a drop, do we?" he hummed, slowly pushing his fingers in despite your tired protest, the sensitivity causing you to squirm with a lazy grin. A curse left his lips. "Wanted to come on your tits in that vest."

"You're such a teenager," you whined out, earning a laugh from him. "Maybe sometime."

"Maybe." he leaned in for a short peck, smiling against your lips when you tried to wrap yourself around him again. "Messy girl. Let's go shower, yeah?"

Your entire body felt sore in this good, tingly way as you watched Steve pull on some sweatpants, damp hair dribbling down to his toned back. You were still wrapped up nice and comfy in your soft bathrobe, resisting getting dressed much to Steve's dismay.

"You're photocopying me with your eyes." he spoke, earning a lazy laugh from you as you held your arms open for him, humming contently when he climbed on the bed just to pull you into his embrace. "That was interesting."

"Mhm, so insightful." you chimed in, nuzzling your face into his chest as he hugged you tighter. "Didn't know I could pull something like that out of you."

"Me neither. In my defense, you looked absolutely gorgeous. Not that you don't look gorgeous when you're not-"

"I get it, Steve," a soft chuckle left you as you squeezed his hand. "Love you."

"Love you too." and with that, you thought that the two of you would go to sleep but of course, Steve had quite the active brain.

"Do you think you could sing the Star Spangled Man song next time you wear it?"

"I might consider it if I wake up to a box of donuts."

"With red, blue, white sprinkles," he nodded. "Sounds like a deal."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers blurb #marvel x reader #marvel fic #captain america x reader #captain america fic #steve rogers

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tinygreybearpaws-blog · 1 year

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Handsy

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 After drinks with the other profilers, Spencer and his girlfriend (who happens to be the newest addition to the BAU) head back to her place to take their relationship to the next level: using hands.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 18+, hand stuff

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 3220

♡♡♡

I grab my go bag and walk the few blocks to y/n’s apartment. She’s waiting for me just inside the building and when she sees me she opens the door. She must have not been waiting long. We get in the elevator and she grabs my hand after pressing the button for the fourteenth floor. “How tired are you?” she asks with a smile. There’s something different about her smile, it’s more mischievous than normal. “As tired as you are,” I answer. We step out of the elevator and she leads me down the hall. “Do you maybe want to …” she trails as she unlocks her door. When we’re inside she finishes her statement. “... Try something new?” “Like what?” I ask with nervous anticipation. She raises her hands. “Hand stuff?” she asks. When I don’t respond right away she speaks again. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know it’s a little more … high risk than making out.” “No, I want to. To be honest, I’m just a little nervous.” “I am too,” she admits. She takes a step towards me and pulls on my tie gently to bring her lips to mine. “But I’m also a little excited.” “Me too,” I say against her lips. “So let’s see what happens. If we want to stop, we stop,” she says simply. “Okay.” She leads me to her bedroom and turns on a lamp in the corner that emits a dull light. I set my bag on the ground and as she takes off her shoes and I take off my converse. “Do you want to take off some of my clothes?” she asks. I take a step closer to her and nod. I bring my fingers to where her blouse is tucked into her skirt and my lips find hers. She puts her hands on my face and one through my hair. I untuck her blouse slowly, the same tempo as our lips. A feeling below my belt is growing slowly and it feels good. Once her shirt is untucked she helps me take it off by moving her arms through it. I drop it beside me. I look at her chest, just able to make out what she looks like in the dim lighting. The way her breasts fill her bra interests me like nothing else has. She smiles at my naivety and takes my hands. I realize what she’s doing and before I can react she’s placed my hands on top of her bra. I rub my thumb across her skin, where her breast meets the silky material of her bra. I don’t mean to, but a low exhale escapes from my lips. She brings her lips to mine. I squeeze her, unable to comprehend the juxtaposition of how soft and firm they are at the same time. I move my hands down her stomach, feeling her waist move as she breathes and I reach around to the back of her skirt where the zipper is. I undo it and it drops to the ground. I reach down and press her hips to mine while palming her backside. She hums into my mouth in approval. The material of her sheer pantyhose is silky too and feels nice against my fingertips as I explore her body. “Can I take off some of your clothes?” she asks, her lips moving against mine and I nod. She starts with my tie, her fingers taking longer than mine would. The anticipation is growing. She then untucks my shirt and starts undoing the buttons. “Can I ask how far you’ve gone with someone in the past?” I ask. She smiles, knowing she’s already given me permission countless times to ask whatever I want. “Hand stuff,” she answers as she finishes the buttons. “Did you do it to him or did he do it to you?” I ask. She moves her hands to my shoulders and removes my shirt for me. “Both,” she answers. “But to be honest, it was kind of a shit show,” she giggles. “Why?” I ask, matching her humor. “I offered to tell him what feels good to me, but he didn’t want his ego bruised. I ended up not ever being close with a very sore pussy the next day.” Her words catch me off guard. She leans up and pecks me on the lips. “Sorry, do you not like the word pussy?” “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” I say with a little laugh. “I actually really like the word,” she comments. “I don’t know why.” She brings her fingertips up and down my chest as she speaks. “Will you tell me?” I ask. “What feels good,” I clarify. “Music to my ears, Doctor Spencer Reid. I would love to tell you what feels good,” she answers with a smile. She undoes my belt and then my zipper and my pants fall halfway down my legs. “Let me take these off so they don’t get ripped,” she tells me as she pulls down her dark, see through pantyhose. I use the time to take off my pants and my socks. When she’s done she throws them in her laundry basket and then sits on her bed to wait for me. When I’m done she grabs my hands and pulls me to her so our lips meet again. As we begin to kiss again she lets go of my hands and positions herself to be more centered on the bed and I follow her, resting my weight on my forearm. With my free hand I rest my hand on her breast and feel her nipple through the thin material. She moans into my mouth softly. “Do you want to feel how much you’re turning me on?” she asks. “Yes,” I’m able to say. She takes my free hand and trails it down her stomach until I can feel the silkiness of her panties. She moves it even further down and I can feel how wet the material is. “That’s from just now?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says shyly. “I’ve told you, Spence, you really turn me on.” With that, my confidence is boosted and I bring my lips to hers again. I never knew I had the power to do this to a woman, let alone someone so beautiful and sexy. Her hand leaves mine and goes to the nape of my neck. Feeling brazen, I move my hand across the material and her hips move to meet my fingers. She makes small noises of approval now. “Can I take these off?” I ask and she nods. We both sit up and I slip off her panties and she kicks them off to the ground. I notice her trying to take off her bra. “Can I take that off?” I ask. Her hands stop and she smiles. “Sure.” Any feeling of nervousness I had is slowly melting away. Instead I feel confident, sexy, and ready to learn. I straddle her so our faces are towards each other, she leans up to kiss me but I back away. “I want to remember this,” I tell her. “What do you mean?” “I want to remember the first time I took a woman's bra off. I want to see it to remember it more clearly,” I explain. She smiles and tilts her head to the side. “Okay,” she agrees. I reach around her and feel the clasp. It only takes me a second or two to figure it out, and once I have it comes loose and she moves her arms and tosses it to the floor. I’ve seen breasts in films, books, diagrams, and even victims. But up until now the sight of them was purely informational or even art. Now that they’re in front of me, let alone attached to someone I truly care about … I never want to forget this moment. She grabs one and I marvel at her. “You can touch them,” she says with a small chuckle. I take a second, to have a thought of gratitude about what is happening. “I’ve never seen you so speechless,” she says. “You’re kind of scaring me,” she adds lightheartedly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” I trail. She reaches for one of my hands and puts it on her right breast. I can feel her nipple react to my touch and I feel her breathing slightly change. She reaches up to the nape of my neck and brings her lips to mine. We kiss for a while, enjoying the way our tongues move together. With each small moan I hear from her as I feel her soft full breasts in my hands, while brushing my fingers across her nipples, I grow hotter and hotter. I feel like I’m sweating too much, but if y/n notices she doesn’t say anything. “This feels really good,” she tells me, breaking our lips together so we can both catch our breath. She moves her hand over mine. She moves my hands with hers, directing mine like a puppeteer. She rubs my thumb across her nipple. “This feels really good,” she tells me with a breathy tone and I take notes. She uses my fingers to lightly pinch her nipples. “This feels really good,” she instructs again. “This doesn’t?” I ask, cupping her breast and massaging it with my thumb. “It does,” she reassures me. “But when you do those two things I just showed you, it’s like there’s a direct feeling to my pussy. I can feel it throughout my whole body,” she tells me. I nod, telling her that I understand. “They are also getting a little sensitive now from over stimulation,” she tells me. I move my hands to her waist. “Am I hurting you?” I ask worriedly. “No, not at all. It feels good, but I can tell my nipples will be really sensitive tomorrow,” she says with a small laugh. “They’re sensitive, like me,” she jokes. “Do you want to try something else?” she asks. “Yes,” I answer. She moves her hands down my chest to the top of my boxer briefs. I stop her by putting my hands on top of hers. “I thought you meant you were going to teach me some more,” I tell her. “We’ve focused a lot of time on me, I thought we could move on to you?” she answers. “I can wait,” I tell her and it’s the truth. I’ve waited twenty-six years for her. I move her hands to be around my neck and she wraps them around me. I lean down to peck her lips. “So, uh, I’ve been doing a little reading,” I tell her. “I didn’t know you like reading,” she jokes. “I want to see if what I read was true.” I peck her lips. Now she’s not joking, she’s curious. “Reading about what?” she asks. “Well, not nipples. I guess that’ll be next on my reading list,” I admit. “Reading about what then?” she asks. I rarely have her in this spot: where she’s curious and waiting for my response. Normally it’s the other way around. I kiss her and she responds, and slowly I guide her so she’s laying on her back with me on top of her. I shift my weight so I’m laying beside her propped up on my elbow. With my right hand I move from down the center of her chest while still kissing her. As I get to just centimeters away from what my hand is moving towards she stops kissing. “Spence,” she says breathily. I lean down to kiss her shoulder, “yeah, are you okay?” “Yeah, I just …” she trails. “I just want you to know that there isn’t any pressure on tonight. I don’t want you to feel disappointed if I can’t finish: it’s not your fault if I can’t. You’ve already made me feel so special tonight and I’m so thankful for that.” I kiss her shoulder again. “I want to try though, if that’s okay with you.” I can see that behind her eyes she’s thinking and processing. She finally nods and brings her lips back to mine. I read a lot of text about this: some advice columns, some informational text. I even looked at a few diagrams. I want to see if I can put this new knowledge into real practice. I reach down between her legs and her hips flex up as I do. I slip a finger in between her lips and feel how wet she is: how wet I’ve made her. Damn I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hard. I bring my finger up to the top of her and search for what I read about. I think I found it when her lips stop moving against mine. “Is that right?” I ask seriously. “Yeah,” she says, almost with a shocked tone. “Does that feel good?” I ask as I swirl my finger around. “Yeah,” she says, even more shocked than before. “I normally like back and forth as opposed to … oh fuck, yeah like that.” “You’re so wet,” I whisper, my voice low and airy. She moans lightly in response to what my hand is doing. I maybe should have started off at a slower speed, but she got excited when I started off a little faster, so I decide to be consistent. With my index finger I move it across in a diagonal motion, varying my speed every few moments. Either faster or returning to my original speed. Her hips move against me in appreciation and anticipation. “Fuck, Reid,” she whispers back. I bring my lips to peck hers once, but I feel like she needs to focus her attention to what my hand is doing instead of my lips so I settle for watching her face as I continue. She has her eyes closed and her hands are grabbing her breasts, squeezing them slightly. Her breathing has completely changed, getting slightly faster and faster. My finger gets tired, but I know there’s no way I’m stopping. I’ll do this all night if she wants me to. “Fuck,” she says after a few minutes of airy moans. “Okay, I’m close,” she tells me. “Don’t stop what you’re doing.” I want to ask what more I can do, but I don’t want to break her concentration. Then, without much warning, I feel her hips jump as she lets out a series of moans and curse words. After a few moments she grabs my hand and brings it to her chest. “Stop, it’s too much,” she tells me tiredly. I expect her to want a second to catch her breath, but she takes me off guard when she turns and brings her lips to mine. We kiss deeply and she presses the back of my head towards her, as if to not let me go. Her free hand travels down my chest and stops when it reaches the top of my boxer briefs. “Take these off,” she orders me in a low seductive tone. I waste no time. I move my hips up so I can move them down my legs and to the floor. “Fuck, Reid,” she says looking at my new exposed body part. I know from a statistical standpoint, I’m average. If anything, just slightly bigger than average, but from the way the words fall out of her mouth I can tell she doesn’t know what the average is. “Should I use lotion?” she asks me. She reaches down and brings her hand from the tip down to the base. “You don’t have to, but it would probably be easier.” I’m not sure how I’m able to come up with a complete sentence. Her touch is very distracting. “Is this you completely hard?” she asks. She sits up and reaches across to her night stand where she has some hand lotion. She rubs it on her right hand. “Yeah, pretty much,” I answer. “Here, sit here,” she tells me and I move so I’m sitting up with my back against her pillows. She sits beside me with her left leg tucked under her and to the side. “I’m really excited for this,” she leans in and tells me. She puts her hand around me and moves it up and down, spreading the lotion along my length. “Tell me if there’s something I’m doing wrong, or something I can be doing better,” she adds. “You can actually have your hand a little tighter,” I tell her. “Like this?” she asks and I can answer with a word. I instead answer her with a noise I’ve never heard myself make. “I really like turning you on,” she says. Her mouth is close to my ear and I can feel her warm breath across my neck. She moves her hand to play with my hair. “I like hearing you moan. It makes me so wet.” Sure, I’ve pictured this happening a few times, but never did I imagine her talking to me the way she is now. Every word brings me closer. “Y/n,” I say, struggling to keep my eyes open. “Yeah,” she says, moving her hand a little faster. “Where do you want me to … “ I can’t finish my thought, too distracted by how her hand just got a little tighter. “Where do you want to?” she asks breathily. When I don’t answer she gives me options. “My mouth, my stomach, my hands, my tits, I can get a tissue?” she asks. I didn’t even know some of those were options. “I can come in your mouth?” I ask, opening my eyes to be sure she’s not messing with me. She bites her lip and nods. “Just tell me when you’re close and I’ll let you take over.” It really doesn’t take long, which I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Just a few moments later, I tell her I’m close and I replace her hand with my own as she readjusts her position and her mouth is open near where my hand is moving. “I’m going to ...” I manage to say, the sight of her too much for me to last any longer. At my words she grabs the tip and puts it in her mouth and I empty myself. When I stop, she licks the tip clean, causing me to shiver in pleasure. “Come here,” I tell her, and she crawls up on top of me and our lips meet. We lay like that for a few moments, both of us catching our breaths. Eventually, y/n convinces us both that we should get under the covers, but she doesn’t move to put any clothes on so neither do I. I lie on my back and she finds a comfortable spot in the nook of my arm with her hand on my chest. “I would do that all over again,” she tells me. “I would wait another twenty-six years to do that again.” “Think about how good actual sex is going to feel.” “I’m free tomorrow, I think,” I joke. She laughs but doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “I’m going to need time to process all this,” she finally says. “Take all the time you need,” I assure her.

#spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid smut #smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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gumballavocadoharry · 6 days

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Afterparty; Brother Harry:

"Harry it's gonna be fine! We'll all be together why are you making such a big deal about this?!"

"Because Yn, those parties are very wild! Anything goes there: drinking, smoking, people having sex randomly with anyone.... the list is endless! I don't want you going and that's that!"

You stomped towards Harry, combatively, challenging his answer. "I'm 19 years old, I can go wherever I want!" You ran up the stairs, bracing yourself against his body as you brushed past it. You slammed your bedroom door, fuming over your brother's unfair arbitrary charge. It was the afterparty of one of Harry's charities he was going to. Harry decided to take you with him to expose you to the arts and naturalism of music. He assumed it might inspire some creativity inside you to push you off from the rebellious streak you had lately.

Your eyes went straight to the sequin dark midnight purple dress that you had picked out specifically for the afterparty after the charity event. Black pantyhose, black heels and this black diamond bracelet would all be an accessorized attire to your silver and black smokey makeup. But instead, stuck wearing this gaudy white dress with cherry blossoms painted on them like some 6th grader going to her first prom. Harry loved the dress of course- picking it out for you with matching white flats. The dress in your mind was pretty, but not your taste. But since Harry was paying, what choice did you have?

Time came for the charity where Harry sat in the back of the van coaching you on how to behave and act. Listening narrow-mindedly to his instructions while internally flickering over your plan of the night. This boring charity event would soon be over and basking in the glory of the elite afterparty with your friends would be the highlight of the evening.

The charity was filled with boring chatter from Harry's upscale friends who talked endlessly about the dull hanging pictures of fruit and parks that added nothing nor took away from the slinky sculptures of rubbish that were tabled across in every corner. You side-eyed Harry chatting with a bunch of his friends, occasionally looking to you, like he wanted you to join in with their much more mature conversation or rather it was just his way of supervising you to keep you from escaping this wasted building.

The car ride home was this thick tense of quiet. Harry shuddered to ask your opinion on the night out- knowing you could never give a generous answer. Rather, more focused on the afterparty- staring stale out the window, taking in the glints of stars from the night. Your phone clock read 12:36- a little after 12:30. For you, it would mean that start of a fresh night filled with the stench of vodka, faint smoke shadows peering out of the mouths of partyers who stood to the side, puffing their cigarettes in and out, and the shimmers of flashy dresses and suits from the dim lights and the blaring music.

The rush blitzed through you like blood through veins. Harry, staggered into house, suit jacket slinked over his shoulder, keys jiggling from the first joint of his finger. "Bedtime, Yn," You let out a scoff, shooting Harry a look, "I'm not tired," "Well, then I'm going to bed- you can watch TV or whatever...." Harry was too tired to even argue with you. You watched him slouch up the stairs; debility and render wading around in his eyes. A sick ping tip toed through your stomach; feeling awful with the way you had handled your well meaning older brother. But even that couldn't shake you from the wish of attending that party.

Changing into your party dress, you snuck out of the house quietly, called an Uber and made it into the party. The smell of every alcohol hit your nostrils all at once while the quivering stench of cigarettes stung your eyes. "Yn! Glad you could make it!" Nicole, one of your friends said, handing you a drink.

Three drinks in and already feeling a little dizzy, you thought maybe dancing would help balance things out. "Heyyyy theeerrre honey," You turned to see a guy- black hair, grey eyes and a 3 o'clock shadow smiling, "Um, hi,"

"Wanna danceeee?" Obviously drunk, you tried moving away from him, only for him to grab the fringe of your dress and lift it to expose part of your thigh. "Stop that!" You snapped, splashing the remainder of you drink in his face.

Feeling cold and alone, you checked the clock of your phone- 3:00. "Damn! I need to get home!" You pushed your way through the crowd to find Nicole, only to spot a tall man- black trench coat, quiffed curls and a raspy voice, echo your name through the party the best way he could over the loud music. "Yn! Yn! Where are you?!" The panic in his voice was evident, evident enough to spike a deep rush of regret and guilt through you.

Green eyes finally spotted you, fading in and out between the brush of partygoers. Catching you, Harry pulled you into this tight hug, sniffing your hair for alcohol smell. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!" You shook your head, tears brimming your eyes. Harry dragged you out of the party, giving Nicole this look- a look of controlled command that only older brothers could possess.

Out on the lawn, empty cups hit your ankles and the cracking sounds of smashed pieces of glass beer bottles crunched beneath your heels. You looked at Harry, stopped and tangled him into a big hug, "I'm sorry!" You sobbed. Your glassy eyes looked into his, "He touched me..... he grabbed my dress and pulled it up!" You quivered. You felt the warm touch of Harry's hand group the center of your back. "It'll be okay..... I'm here... you're safe now Yn,"

He didn't yell at you. He didn't even so much as give you a sour look or blanket his stare with wrath. He just cuddled you- into his arms like a warm fuzzy blanket. Harry twisted his hand into yours before walking off to the car. You didn't feel like this little girl hanging onto her brother for protection, instead, you felt like a young woman who simply needed help and it was now being sent to her.

And you never wanted to let go.

*I'm back everyone!!!! Ik I've been sick for awhile, but things will be running smoothly again now!!!!!!*

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #brother!harry #brother harry #protective older brother #harry fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfictions #harry ❤️ yn #harry and yn #harry x yn #harry x reader #harry one shot #harry styles oneshot

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spirallingintothevoid71 · 1 year

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I walked into her office to find tge lights dimmed a bit. She smiled that sweet but knowing smile that always disarmed me.

That always set my mind reeling.

That always set my body on fire.

I watched as she slipped out of her heels, pulling her pantyhose covered legs up, knowing my eyes would be drawn to them.

I could already feel my arousal growing. Her eyes told me she could already see it. And she was pleased at my instant reaction.

She trailed one hand lazily along one silky leg as she called me to her. She reminded me that it was hump day.

I knew what that meant. She would slowly drive me mad with her legs, until I was mindlessly pressed against her, her silky thighs breaking my mind

She would take me. Tease me. Make me beg. And still toy with me. Until I couldn't even beg anymore, nothing but needy whimpers emanating from me as my body simply gave itself to her.

And then the day would begin.

Hers to command.

Spiraling into the Void.

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thatguywiththefaceog · 6 months

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Kinktober 2023 Day 31-Free Day (panties and lingerie/crossdressing)

Star Vs the Forces of Evil-startomco

Tom and Star rope Marco into an important Mewian Royal tradition. One that involves stripping.

written for @kinktober2023

requested by @ramdomaxes

Warning the following story contains fictional minors in sexual situations. If this makes you uncomfortable or are under 18 please do not read. This story is rated E for explicit and is for adults only. This story is a complete work of fiction.

It was Halloween night at Echo Creek. And Marco, Star, and Tom couldn't think of a better way to spend it then with each other. Of course the teens had a limited choice of stuff for them to do. As Mewnian royals, Tom and Star were forbidden from any sex, lest they cause a succession crisis. So their horny teen ancestors had come up with a tradition; one or more royal heirs would put on a show for another while they masturbate. It was a grand tradition dating back centuries.

So the three teens were tucked away into Star's room. She had used magic to make the inside bigger than normal and install a stage. Tom was the lone audience member. Everything under his neck was covered in a weighted blanket as per tradition. The blanket part, not the weighted part. That was what the Diazs had.

The lights dimmed and out came his two friends. To go with her devil horns, Star was dressed as a devil. A red crop top with fake wings in the back and black booty shorts with fishnets. To go with Star's costume, Marco was an angel. He was wearing a white blouse with a white mini skirt with pantyhose. Marco’s face was done up in makeup with pink lipstick and baby blue eyeshadow. It made his short hair look very feminine. On his head was a fake halo.

Tom undid his jeans and fished out his cock. He was already hard when he started stroking his massive, thick, demon cock. As he jacked off, Star and Marco moved to music. They almost touched and almost kissed, never do. It was driving the demon prince wild.

At this point, the two 'princesses' started to undress. Star was sticking her chest out as she pulled the top over her head, while Marco made sure his ass was facing Tom as he pulled down his skirt. In the end,Star and Marco were down to their bra and panties. Star wore black, her bra doing its best at showing her 14-year-old chest. Marco meanwhile, had chosen white for this evening. His large package strained against his panties. Both had thongs on that showed off their very shapely asses.

Marco laid on his back, spreading his legs, allowing Tom to get a better view of his cock and balls. Beside him, Star pulled apart her buttcheeks, showing off her dirtiest hole. Tom bit his lips as his strokes picked up stream. Oh ho he’d love to fuck them both. To taste Star’s ass before he pump his seed deep in her pussy, impregnating her. Mounting Marco’s sweet latino ass and fulling him with his demonic royal cum.

Tom came, his seed spreading across his hand and on the blanket. Once finished with their little dance, Star and Marco claimed off the stage. After zipping himself back up, Tom handed Marco the blanket. “I got my jizz on it. Sorry.”

Marco folded the thing. “It’s okay. My dad gets his jizz on this thing all the time.” Tom eyed the piece of cloth.

“That was exhilarating!” Star shouted. “Maybe Tom can get dressed up. And he and Marco can-”

“Oh, no can do.” He slipped on his pair of black jeans and his red hoodie. “Jackie and Janna and I are gonna have a little fun.”

“Marco! But what about Mewnian royal tradition!”

“Star, I’m neither Mewian or royal. I’m free to jizz in whomever I please.”

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #startomco #sour lemon

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throttlegainwell · 7 months

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First Lines of 10 Fics Game!!

rules: share the first lines of 10 of your most recent fanfics and then tag 10 people. If you have written less than 10 fics, don't be shy and share anyways :)

(I'm not going to tag anyone. Just have at it if you feel like it. It's kind of neat.)

In reverse order, from most to least recently posted:

Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance

The important thing to keep in mind was that none of them had any idea what they were doing. The other important thing to keep in mind was that that had been equally true in literal life-or-death horror situations, and everything had more or less worked out fine. So what was a little clumsy assplay between friends?

Iconoclast (a composition painted on my face)

“Oh, you’re pregnant again?” Joyce forced her lips to curve, which wasn’t very much like a smile at all but just about as pleasant as she could manage. “Yes, I’m pregnant again.” “Oh, you must be so nervous,” Betty Flanders said, a pinched look on her face like maybe she should have perused one aisle over for the constipation remedies. “Considering, well, you know.” Joyce had half a mind to direct her to them, but instead her hands sped up on the register, ringing up Betty’s pantyhose and mints in record time and resisting the urge to overcharge her on principle, knowing she wouldn’t check the receipt or count her change.

Maybe a Medal

Nancy had that considering look in her eye that Jonathan had come to love. “You’re very pretty, you know.” Jonathan’s eyebrows drew together. He glanced down at himself, not particularly moved one way or the other, but Nancy had sprung odder things on him before. “Thank you?” “I mean your penis. The rest of you is pretty, too, but I want you to know that you have a pretty penis. I've thought a lot about this.”

release what's broken underneath

Consummate professional that she is, Nancy’s face remains impassive—any casual passerby would probably have no idea that she’s deciding whether or not to stop by the shooting range on the way home from work just to get her head on straight. But shooting targets, though appealing, seems inadequate for the kind of slow-growing rage pulsing through her as she tidies up her desk, packs her bag, and turns off her computer for the day, still seeing red everywhere she looks from staring too long into the phosphorescent green glow of her ancient IBM computer screen—which, though apropos of her mood, is annoying. But she goes through the motions. Like stuffing those notes away and watching the screen go dark will make it all less real, less horrible.

Hard Skills

Steve doesn’t necessarily have a wide variety of skills, by the standards of the crowd he hangs around these days, but he’s not without his talents. Athletic abilities aside, most of those talents are highly context dependent and not, well, appropriate in a lot of settings. But although he doesn’t get as many chances to show off as he’d maybe like, it’s enough that he’s got a pretty solid reputation by sixteen. The thing is, that means fuck-all when he starts screwing around with Jonathan Byers.

True Bearing

Finnick’s ears ring in time with the pounding of his head. It’s worse than being stuck near the motors of the Capitol fishing trawlers back home, those hulking beasts that churn up the water and belch out fumes; at least that thrumming is predictable and constant, even if you can feel it in your teeth. The music at this party is relentless in a different way, the sound just so big and inescapable, high notes and low notes alike shooting right through him with just enough variation that he can’t ever tune it out. It’s not helped by all the people determined to bend his ear and plying him with drinks. He hasn’t had a free moment (or an empty glass) all night. He’s always making the rounds all over the room, moving from dim and intimate corners to areas with spotlights bright as the sun and fancy, colored strobes that make him dizzy.

were you named in your father's will?

It used to take forays into a parallel dimension and battles with actual, for real monsters to totally disrupt Will’s day. A government conspiracy here and there, for good measure. There was a time when those were relegated strictly to the realms of fantasy, so Will has plenty of evidence that something being bizarre doesn’t mean it can’t be true—that it won’t happen. But there are still scenarios that, if asked, he would probably consider profoundly unlikely, if not downright impossible. Gravity on Earth reversing itself, for instance. Or Bush getting on television to announce that, actually, he loves queers, and so do all his cronies, and they’re going to get right on undoing all of that institutionalized oppression. But somehow those have more weight and realism to them—more genuine possibility—than what actually walks through the door just an hour before his shift ends.

Swear You Will

The knife flashes under the yellowish kitchen light as it falls. She waits too long to move her hand—forces herself to hold still. She can do this. But the knife falls fast; its path does not move. Does not budge—does not wobble—no matter how hard she wills it. Her reflexes win, not fast enough; she catches the wrong end with her stupid, normal hands. “Shit,” she says, cradling her injured hand to her chest. She glances over her shoulder, hoping she was not too loud. But the house is quiet with Joyce and Will at the store. Jonathan looks up from his pile of homework—there is no other way to describe it, spread across the stretch of table in front of him and a few inches high—and a stray page flutters to the floor. “What happened?” he asks, already rising to come to her.

Erosion

Annie watched the waves roll in, with Finnick’s warm, soft voice in her ears telling her she was brave and strong. It felt sort of laughable, all things considered, but she appreciated the effort, the intent. Finnick never talked down to her, not even when she was so silly that she couldn’t even set foot in the waters she’d practically been born into. Not even when she couldn’t do the very thing that she’d once done so naturally, so instinctively, it had actually saved her life. He hadn’t been home for long. She could still see the traces of the Capitol on him—from the ridiculous haircut those stylists had given him to the unhappy set of his shoulders. With every passing day, they loosened a fraction. Still, it always took time for him to wash off that Capitol coating, like it was a lingering smell on his skin that he just couldn’t shake—the way the smell of fish and saltwater clung to all the boats, but unnatural and strange. She had reached up to rub away Capitol makeup so many times, after her Games, only to find nothing there; it wasn’t the same, but it helped her understand, when she had to remind herself to be patient with him the way he was so effortlessly with her.

Saltare

Finnick steps into the training room the way Finnick Odair, Capitol darling and Four’s most lauded champion, enters every room: with a practiced ease and the palpable certainty that he belongs there. If this were a media appearance, he’d blow a kiss. But all things being equal, there can be no mistaking what this actually is. Finnick is here to play the game. But something becomes immediately apparent to him the moment he lays eyes on the Gamemakers of this Quarter Quell. This private session is a sham, of course. They all know what he can do—what he has done. And unlike some of the other victors—those who have been abandoned, right or wrong, to the forces of time and whatever crawled out of the arena with them, back to their home districts—Finnick has never left the public eye. Sure, the last time anyone saw any great physical feats out of him, he'd been a child, but now he stands before them tall, strong, and sharp. There can be no mistaking that he is in the prime of his life, with experience and skills to match. He doesn’t miss a step, and that much radiates from him. And despite his reputation—despite the whispers of the Capitol meant to discredit him, despite the fact that he now uses that simple, underestimated public face to his advantage—he has a clever, tactical mind.

#fic game #i don't know why i've been so unusually productive this year #it's pretty weird honestly #but all of these were posted in the last two months #long post

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hotnails666420 · 1 year

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Sublim pantyhose by DIM, made in France.

These were so perfect they found their way into my regular rotation

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pennywaltzy · 2 years

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Time And Space Displaced Persons (3 & 4/7)

So this fic has a finishing line and not one but TWO new chapters! So buckle in and see what Ro’s first moments on the Enterprise are like (and watch Bones have some great bedside manner). Once again, Aurora belongs to the amazing @simdoodleswrites and I’m just using her in my sandbox.

Time And Space Displaced Persons - Aurora "Ro" Holiday has a life in Kansas City that involves her job, her family, and her podcast about aliens that isn't all that bad. She likes this life, she does, but she wonders if she's meant to do more, be more. Then comes a freak storm and one minute she's in her attic fixing her equipment and the next she's on a spaceship 300 years in the future, in a bulkhead full of uniforms. When the drama surrounding her arrival settles, she wonders more about where she is, when she is, and who she can trust. The answers are beyond her wildest dreams...

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 3 | SERIES PAGE

One of the things her father instilled in her was the ability not to panic when faced with a new situation. Panic was trying to override all her senses at the moment, but she needed to remain calm. She shut her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly but quietly, going over what she knew. She had been in the attic, then...something...had happened, and she was in a dark room now. Or maybe it wasn’t a room? It felt cramped and full of clothing of some sort. A utility closet? A bulkhead of a ship, maybe?

She opened her eyes and took a good look in the dim light. Thankfully her glasses had stayed on her face, so she was able to see clearly. They looked like pieces of a uniform. She took one and unfolded it. It was a tunic of some sort, in a greenish-gold color, as far as she could tell in the light. Must be a uniform, she thought to herself. It looked a size too big for her, but if she wanted to leave...wherever this was, she needed to blend in.

Thankfully her laptop case had come on this trip with her, and she had a few safety pins on the outside for emergencies. Being an EMT meant having little kits and things with her at all times in case there was an emergency. And that included a ripped blouse exposing a bra, too, as had happened to her a few times. Maybe she could jerry-rig the uniform to look like it actually fit.

There was room to maneuver so she slipped off her shirt and tried to take off her jeans without making too much sound. Her boots were just going to have to go back on, and if the uniform included pantyhose, well, she couldn’t see any in the area.

When she got the tunic on she realized it was actually two sizes too big. She only had three large safety pins, so it looked as ill-fit as it felt against her skin. But as she went to put the boots back on, she realized there was no way she’d look like she fit in. If this was hostile territory, and she had no idea what was outside of this cozy space, she should hide her laptop and clothes and find some sort of improvised weapon. Her daddy had been a baseball nut and made sure she knew how to swing a bat and swing it hard; she may not have a bad but a rod of any sort would substitute perfectly well.

Suddenly she heard an alert siren outside where she was. She debated bunkering down until the alert siren and the automated female voice saying “Red alert” stopped. Still, she needed the upper hand in this situation, which meant getting that improvised weapon. She felt around her and found a latch, allowing her to open the pod she realized she was in. Definitely a bulkhead, she realized as she stepped out, but not to any type of ship she recognized.

She’d taken three steps down a pristine white hall when a man in a red tunic top and black pants stepped into her path. He looked her up and down, taking in the ill-fitting uniform no doubt, and then pulled something that resembled a taser and pointed it at her. “I think I found the intruder!” he called behind him.

She didn’t even think. She’d taken self-defense classes and the more advanced ones had helped her learn how to disarm someone pointing a gun at her. She did the maneuver, completely surprising the man holding the device, and knocked it to the floor. Both of them scrambled for it but she was quicker. By the time she stood up the man was joined by two more men in red shirts and a blonde man in a greenish gold tunic top, the same color as her dress.

“Who are you?” the blonde man asked. He had the same weapon she held in her hands but he wasn’t pointing it directly at her, unlike the men in red shirts. “How did you get on board the Enterprise?”

“I have no idea,” she said. One of the men in red raised the weapon and she raised hers, but the blonde man shot an arm out and tapped the device in the other man’s hand, getting him to lower it.

No way was she lowering hers.

“I’m Captain James Kirk,” the blonde man said. “This is my ship, and we got an alert about a breach in this area. How did you get on board?”

“There was an electrical storm and I was at home and then I was here,” she said.

“Where’s home?” he asked.

“Kansas City.”

“But we’re in the Delta Quadrant!” the man whose weapon had been forcibly lowered said.

“Delta Quadrant?” Ro asked.

“You’re a long way from home,” James replied. “Look, let’s all lower our weapons and talk about things.”

“No way in hell am I lowering this weapon while one of your goons still has one pointed at me,” Aurora said.

“All of us will lower our weapons,” James said. “See? I’ll start.” The ship lurched and Aurora lost her footing, squeezing the trigger by accident and hitting a space next to the ear of one of the men in red. He raised his weapon again and James let out an exasperated sigh. “I said all of us. Greg, lower your weapon.”

“She almost shot me!” Greg replied.

“By accident. Those boots don’t look like they were put on well.” Jim lowered his body, setting his weapon on the floor. “See? I’m not holding a--”

Whatever else it was that James was going to say, she never heard. She felt a pinch on her neck and the next thing she knew she was sinking down, possibly into someone’s arms or possibly to the floor, and she was losing consciousness rapidly. And then? Her world was just a void of black.

READ CHAPTER 4

#star trek aos #leonard mccoy #original character #mccoy x ofc #jim kirk

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singersalvaged · 1 month

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[whisper] - Sender whispers in receiver's ear. / Allie

@ruinedmyself sent something so frickin' lovely.

LATE NIGHT, LONG DRIVE. States passed by their windows with nothing but linear trees to get lost in. Suddenly the ticking of time grew concerning. Mainly due to the fact every motel room, every diner, every library was beginning to look the same. They'd been on their feet for weeks and rest seldom came, at least anything longer than four hours on a mattress that probably should have been drenched in bleach and then tossed to the curb.

However, it appeared that Dean hadn't obeyed by the laws of humanity and, somehow, did not need rest. The local bar proved more fruitful and so she was left alone with Sam. Not that she minded - his presence was calming and sometimes the quiet was nice.

Still, the drive of work - the job - was relentless. Bones ached beneath tanned flesh and Allie found herself desiring a moment of levity. Just... kind. Kind and sensitive and... relaxing. So, when he leaned over to her as they sat together at the small table within the rather unexceptional space her lips curled into a petite smile, illuminated by dim lamp light and the flickering glow of a muted TV.

Her leg adjusted ever so slightly, just enough for their thighs to brush, jeans slightly pushing up her skirt to reveal further inches of sheer pantyhose. Not a staple while actively hunting, but a nice treat for being on the road.

At the sound of his voice soothing into her ear Allie's smile only widened to a warm expression, nose scrunching as she turned to face him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not tired. In fact, I've never been more awake in my life." She enthused playfully, meeting his words with lighthearted sarcasm and eyes that couldn't seem to focus on anything else in the room.

#a: allie smith #feelin' HOT HOT HOT #ruinedmyself

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justfranzz · 7 months

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But if we can hump dead animals and antelopes

I see no reason why a man and another man can't elope

But if you feel how I feel

I got the antidote! Women wear your pantyhose

SING THE CORUS HERE IT GOOOS

I'm slip Shady yes I'm the real Shady All you otherbslip shadys are just imitating

So won't the real Slim Shady

Please stand up Please stand up Please stand up

Dim slady

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yanderart · 4 years

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He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step.

It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect.

“So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on.

Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

“Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper.

Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features.

Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened.

“Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands.

"Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness.

"You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.

You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal.

Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag.

"I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he?

If only you knew.

"Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

"You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement.

A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery.

(Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

"Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

"Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer.

(Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both.

As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

"You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight.

"Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked.

"I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law."

Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

"Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics.

"Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth.

"Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

"Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you.

And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

Now that was interesting.

"Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down.

"Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?"

You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

"Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you.

"I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments.

"So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation.

Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role.

"Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage.

"I wasn’t..."

"Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe.

"If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out.

Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did.

When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

"I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions.

You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you.

The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear.

"Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both.

"Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries."

As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody.

It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering.

Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore.

"Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence.

When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.

Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet.

"But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

"You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime.

So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face.

"I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway.

You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze.

For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

"Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain.

(And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

"Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

"But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded.

"I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be).

Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped.

"Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it.

Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped.

"I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you).

When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that.

"Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.

"Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths.

Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced.

It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

"Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer.

"Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

"Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed.

"Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

"Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through.

Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

"Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit.

"Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight.

"None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…"

But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you.

"Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say."

And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected.

The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before.

"More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by.

"Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment.

He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

(You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.)

You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence.

You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

"You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home.

"Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work.

Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago.

(Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

"Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over.

The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.

"Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips.

Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

"Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides.

Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected.

A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent.

"Fucking… get on with it."

However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body.

"But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness.

It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks.

The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself.

If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps.

So goddamn close…

Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them.

Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all.

Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit.

When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork.

"Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment.

But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most.

When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face.

And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust.

"Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured.

However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry.

"Hold on..."

Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

"Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused.

"Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice.

When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling.

"You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago.

But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed.

Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you.

God, even for villain standards you were fucked.

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — —

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha, @snappysnapo and @drxwsyni (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL).

#bnha fanart #aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #mha fanart #bnha x reader #aizawa fanart #aizawa smut #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #aizawa shouta #bnha art #eraserhead #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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steviespanties · 3 years

Text

steve modeling all the skimpy halloween outfits he got for billy- a sexy nurse dress that just barely covers his crotch and the soft pink garters holding up shiny, almost see-though white thigh highs. billy manages to curl a finger around one of the garters and lets it snap against steve’s thigh to an affronted “hey!”

he flees to the bathroom and returns in a flight attendant outfit- much more prim and proper, except the his pencil skirt is very short as well and has a slit at one side that gives a mesmerizing glimpse at steve’s pantyhose covered thigh. the real highlight are the heels, though. combined with the tight skirt, they transform steve’s walk into a careful, elegant stroll that has billy’s eyes glued to him.

the last one, though? that’s the one that breaks billy. a long, black skirt that swishes open with every step, another slit in the side not even trying to hide all the skin it can easily reveal, just to cover up again.

he’s pretty sure steve waxed his chest for the first time in ages just so he can properly show off how his nipples are barely covered by his airy blouse. it’s honestly more a piece of fabric, cinched around steve’s waist and almost falling off his shoulders, creating the illusion of his lean frame having a more curved figure.

there’s a simple black choker around his neck, black metal pentagram dangling from it. it gleams in the dim candlelight of steve’s room and catches billy’s attention for a moment, just for his eyes to be drawn back to steve’s chest.

he sits on billy’s lap with a triumphant grin. grinds a little onto his dick, feeling how excited billy’s gotten. “i think we got a winner,” he says. when he leans forward, one of the loose sleeves slips down his shoulder. hidden under dark fabric, billy spots steve’s own growing erection.

a kiss to steve’s throat where his heartbeat pulses fast. another over fabric onto steve’s nipple elicits a soft moan. billy looks up just in time to catch the beginnings of a flush spreading over steve’s cheeks.

#harringrove #txt #dress up #aHH i forgot to add a vampire one...!!!

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spirallingintothevoid71 · 1 year

Text

She knows I'll do almost anything for her pantyhose clad legs and feet.

And when she dangles her heel at me, she shuts off my mind.

All the higher functions simply go dim, as her siren song pulls me to my knees.

Eyes vacant, mind quiet...

Spiraling into the Void.

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

Going with the smut prompts because you already know I’m a thirsting bish. 10. It’s sir, understood? And I’m picking Donnie on this one. 😈👌🏻 💚 your creative filth ma’am 😘😘😘

Oh boyyyyyyy 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

Let’s see how this goes!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Deep breaths.

That’s all Donatello could do right now. Take deep breaths and get in the right mindset for this.

It wasn’t necessarily difficult, it wasn’t like he didn’t know about the subject material.

Hell, he was insanely into it.

But on paper everything’s easy, watching it is fun and entertaining. Putting it to practice is different.

The two of you had discussed experimenting with more Dominant and submissive themes when it came to your more intimate time. Interestingly enough you had brought up the subject and seeing Donnie more than enthusiastic to try some things out was even better.

This called for a more private setting, so you’d asked Donnie to drop by once he was free. Lord knows you don’t need any of his brothers overhearing or worse, walking in.

So once he had finished for the night he had done just that. Upon arriving you had asked him to give you a few minutes to set the mood and freshen up. This meant that Donnie had time to give himself a good pep talk. He knew your do’s and don’t’s by now, he had a basic open ended plan of how things could and should go, what to do if something was taken to far.

The bases were covered.

Still it was normal for the jitters and sweaty palms to set in.

You’d shot him a text to let him know you were ready. While you’d taken the time to dim the lights, turn on a few of those battery powered candles, you’d put most of the time onto your outfit.

He was gonna blow his load the moment he’d see you, that’s how confident you felt. The mesh pantyhose, the knee length stockings and the see through bralette. There was simply no way he wouldn’t lose the ability of thought.

Donnie shook out the nervous tension through his hands before opening the door. True to your hopes you saw him momentarily freeze, his jaw clenching before he closed the door behind him with the heel of his foot. You sat on the bed, legs innocently crossed and you smiled at him. Nothing about you screamed innocent, in fact you’d opted to play dirty by presenting yourself like this.

Patiently he stood in front of you. It’d proven hard to hold in a few chuckles. “You know something told me you’d be a mess if you saw me like this, I just had to-“ Whatever playful jab you were about to say was stopped by a finger to your lips. Donnie knelt down, his impressive height leaving you at eye level now. His hand slithered down your neck, fingertips feeling the materials of your chosen outfit. When both of those large hands rested on your thighs and his look remained somewhat stern, you knew this night wouldn’t be filled with teasing on your end.

“You thought this out, hm?” His voice was still that sweet Donnie voice you’ve come to love so much. You nodded at his question, a bratty arrogance in your body.

His finger poked at the hole of the mesh pantyhose, with a slight flick it tore about two or three inches. Subconsciously you spread your legs and that seemed to delight him but he didn’t say anything.

“Cat caught your tongue, Don?” You grinned.

Donnie smiled before removing his glasses, setting them on the night table next to the bed. He stood once more; god what did he have to be so tall?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt his hand grab a fistful of your hair from the back and gently pull. There wasn’t malice behind the grip, he’d done this quite a few times in the heat of passion but right now it did feel a little different.

More authoritative.

“Are you going to keep running your mouth, darling?” In the darken room, with him looming above you like this, you couldn’t help but feel all warm already and it thrilled you. You gave him a defiant smile laced with sarcasm. “Yes I am, Donnie” it was simple, but so very bratty of you.

He bent towards your ear, kissing the spot just behind the shell of it. “You tell me if I’m... too rough, alright?” It was whispered, very much him just checking in to make sure everything was on track. You nodded, nosing his jaw for an affirmative. Just like that you felt teeth at the lobe.

You felt his grip on your hair tighten a fraction more, a small hiss leaving you.

“If you’re going to run your mouth all night, then I suppose I could put that hole to good use” His words weren’t shouted, he’d barely gone above a gentle decible when he spoke them. His eyes though, they spoke differently and when they came to rest on your own pretty ones, this was going to be a lot different.

You felt another shot of excitement nest beneath your stomach. When he let go you already missed the nice throb, but much to your delight he pushed aside his suspenders. He stood there, arching a brow ridge at you.

“Do I have to take it out for you as well? Forgotten what we’re good at, darling?” The sarcasm that oozed from him, goodness that shouldn’t feel so good to you but his words shot straight to your cunt. Pursing your lips you undid the button to his pants and unzipped him.

“Now what?” There was more defiance in your words, but your eyes spoke of how into this you were getting.

“Drop the attitude and it’s sir, understood?” The brown of his eyes look so blackened in this light, the firmness behind each word. You were a mess already, and how utterly thrilling that he could smell that.

“Sorry... sir” Your fingers dug into the hem of his pants and pushed down. The outline of his hard cock coming into view already spoke of how deeply he was enjoying this. You pushed his underwear enough to free him and bit down on your bottom lip. Ever so slowly you let your tongue lick the underside of his cock, root to tip. The way the muscle in his thigh jumped only fueled you more. You gripped him by the base, hand slithering up and down to spread more of his natural lubricant. You took him into your mouth, barely half of it being what could fit in your warm mouth. Donnie pushed aside a few stray strands of hair from your eyes. “Want you to see how good you look with my cock in your mouth” That fact that he smirked only made your toes curl.

Oh, you could get into this.

As you sucked him slowly, mapping out the shaft with your lips before rolling back up to the flared tip. Just in the name of revenge you licked the tip to make him buckle, he was extra sensitive there after all. He dropped his head with a muffled moan, teeth bitting down on his bottom lip. Mentally you high five yourself for breaking him just a little.

Then you felt that grip return to the back of your head and his blown out pupils land on you.

“Relax your throat” He said.

Your eyes went wide as saucers.

You’d only attempted this twice in your life and both partners weren’t even close to his size. Still, morbid curiosity and the wet mess you were now egged you on. You felt him push inside just a little more, dangerously close to the back of your throat. Breathing through your nose you took a few breaths and relaxed your throat as best as you could, even as you felt more of him push into your mouth. Spit pooled at your chin, a watery burn setting at your eyes. The debauched look Donnie saw when his eyes landed on you , it could be enough to push him past the edge but that would be too dangerous for you right now. “Fff-uck, you take me so well, you’re doing so good” His hips stuttered just lightly, a moan wrapped itself around his hard cock and that was nearly his undoing.

Slowly and satisfyingly he watched the length of his cock slip out of your pretty mouth. Precum mixed with saliva at your lips and chin. You coughed slightly, watery eyes closed when you felt his lips on yours. “My good girl” He kissed the words on your lips. Once you caught your breath and blinked out most of the tears, he stayed there caressing your face and hair. You knew he was giving you a break, making sure if anything had to stop for now. You nodded, letting him know you were okay and good to continue.

“May I have another kiss, sir?” You asked sincerely.

Donnie tried to hide his usual smile by kissing you, and kiss you he did. Every ounce of his regular loving self into it just to remind you this was all for play.

Especially when he pushed you back onto the bed and grabbed a chunk of the mess panty hose and ripped them right at the crotch. He kicked off the clothes hanging onto him and he climbed onto the bed with you. He sat against the headboard, pillows propped against it to make it more comfortable for him. You sat up on your knees and crawled towards him.

But he held up a finger and shook it. He made a circling motion, meaning that you had to turn around.

Oh.

You did just as he expressed, the flush of your cheeks speaking on how this wasn’t something that occurred between the two of you. Donnie loved having you ride him as much as the next guy but like this? Reversed?

The second his hands connected with your rear he gripped the checks and spread them. There was an embarrassing yelp from your behalf and a snickering snort from his. You felt the pad of his thumb circle the ring. “Um... sir?” That wasn’t discussed and truthfully it would need a very long discussion.

“Don’t worry, was just thinking about how pretty this would look with a plug that maybe has a tail attached to it” You were thankful he couldn’t see your face right now, aside from how flushed your face was, your eyes must’ve been comically large. Even at this stage of the relationship it never truly stopped tickling you that Donnie could be quite the pervert when his mind gets going.

A little retaliation never killed anybody.

So you shook your rear at him, turning your head just a bit to catch him grinning like a fool. “A tail, sir? Why have that when I could have you” Oh that knocked the wind off his sails, he groaned and closed his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky” He smacked one of your cheeks and you hid your smiling face.

Then he leaned forward and bit a cheek.

Hard.

You yelped again, it had caught you off guard as much as it had hurt. He soothed it with a kiss, hands slipping down your hips. “Be a good girl and ride me” Okay that also shouldn’t sound so good but fuck did it.

Entering him from this position had nearly left you cross eyed. The way you felt all of him, every inch of him nestled and throbbing inside. You placed your hands of his legs for support, moving slowly enough to tease him which earned a nice rumbling churr from him. His hands caressed and gripped your thighs and hips. “Come on, you can give me a better show” His words were mixed into a grunt, that demanding tone slipping from the pleasure he received. You rode him faster, each thrust down onto his lap making a wet slapping sound that would surely piss the neighbors off.

The sight Donnie had was surely one he would commit into memory in its entirety. The way your rear slapped down, he hoped the edge of his plastron wasn’t hurting you too bad. Even if a possessive part of him liked the redness forming on your flesh. He gripped your waist, steadying you as you slammed down him faster. That familiar sensation was creeping up, you could feel yourself so close. In the midst of it you leaned back, feeling yourself unable to control your body. You supported your hands on his midsection, the firmness of his plastron nice to the touch.

“Oh fuck!” You shut your eyes tightly, your thighs were burning from their movements. “You feel so fucking good!” Each thrust hit the right spot making your mouth hang open in lust.

Donnie wanted to drag this on more, torture you in delicious way that would continue to make you mewl like this for him. “Say-fuckfuck-say how much you love my big cock” He thrusted it up, loving the pleasured yell that he pulled from you. “Iloveitohmygod!” You words coming out in a jumbled mess of moans. That taut knot inside broke making you scream something that could’ve resembled his name. A rumbling deep churr left him when his hips stuttered out. He slammed you down onto him, each rope of cum making you shiver.

The two of you breathed hard, your thighs trembled as you got off with his help. He didn’t miss the way his cum trickled out of you, staining your thighs and his navel. You collapsed next to him, Donnie didn’t waste time pulling you close and pushing your sweaty locks away.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You smiled against his chest and shook your head. “I’m more than good, Jesus we should do this more often” You sighed already feeling worn out. He chuckled, the sound muffled a top your head. He rubbed circles on your back, making sure to pay extra attention to anything that was a little more sore than usual.

Whatever needed to be discussed could wait, right now you were too preoccupied with passing out on him.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello x female reader #donatello tmnt #donnie tmnt #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #donnie x reader #ns*w #smut prompt #ask #the second circle of shell #Donatello #Donnie

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