Ursa_Tan Fanfic

They/Them/Theirs 20 Blank blogs will be blocked Small time fanfic writer

[ursa-tan]

Master list!

About me + Boundaries & How to request

Blank blogs WILL get blocked

I am responsible for what I write, not what you read. Please consume media responsibly and read warnings before progressing.

I have a general, non-fanfic account you can follow to see my ramblings and what I repost: @ursatangeneral

Some content of mine is ao3 exclusive and some is tumblr exclusive!

| ao3 |

| Asks | open | | Requests | closed |

DC

Invincible Coming soon!

CoD MW

South Park

MoonKnight

Stranger Things

Welcome Home

Audios

Kinktober

Fanfic key:

Genre- Smut: 🍑 Fluff: 🧡 Angst: 💥

[ursa-tan]

Mohawk Mark

Mark was already a bit of a delinquent when he met you, but everything about put pulled everything his parents disapprove of out of him.

Masterpost + explanation

TW: Drug usage, underage drinking mention, cannon typical violence, possessiveness on Mark's end.

The first time he met you, it had been the first year of high school. Barely a month in, only the start of October when he was sent to detention after school. You had been sitting at the back of the class, scratching messily at a piece of paper, deep in concentration and hunched over. It seems the teacher had long given up on making you do homework or sit quietly if the way he ignored your fervent scratching was anything to go by.

Mark doesn’t remember why he chose to sit next to you. Maybe it was the fact you had enough facial piercings to justify being suspended. Maybe it was the fact you were ignoring everything in the room, too focused on your paper. All he knows is that he wanted to sit next to you and see what you were drawing, so he did.

“That’s pretty cool,” me mumbled, trying to keep his voice low so he doesn’t catch the teacher's attention. It doesn’t work really, but when it's clear that Mark was talking to you, the teacher puts his head back down and gives up. Good to know.

“Thanks. ‘S my band’s logo.” You didn’t look up from your scribbling, pencil dulled and tilted to be used for shading around the eyesocket of the skull. A strange detail to remember the longer he thinks about it, but something he can’t forget no matter how tightly he screws his eyes shut.

The skull had piercings, the same ones you had, despite not having the skin to put them in. It also had a tongue, adorned with a shiny, silver looking stud. There were drumsticks shoved in one of the sockets. If Mark’s skin wasn't invulnerable, he would've got it as a tattoo.

You spent the rest of detention telling him about your band that performed at a local club every Saturday night, a position that was hard fought and even harder to keep. Despite being far too young for you to be in there, you said that the guitarist was friends with the manager, who was only just old enough to be in the joint herself.

Mark remembers thinking about you even after getting home and laying in bed, hands twined together over his stomach and eyes focused on the ceiling. He already had a rebellious streak, not a great thing to have when trying to do hero work, but something about you made that small need to cause problems bubble into something so large he could no longer wrangle it back into place. No longer ignore it like his father encouraged him to, just until the rest of the Vilturmite forces got to earth for the takeover.

The first time Mark had let it affect him, he had tried to shove it back down and follow your instructions to get to the club where you’d be playing. And he got to watch you bang away on the drums. Hair, eyes and smile all wild, full of a feral kind of glee that no one else could rock as well as you. It was also, surprisingly, the first time Mark ever smoked, sharing a cigarette with you behind the venue, relishing in the feeling of your cold fingers brushing his when you passed it to him.

Debbie had shouted at him the next morning. He hadn’t got more until 7AM and he had school in less than half an hour. He smelled like smoke, alcohol, sweaty bodies and your perfume. Nolan had stood behind his mother, arms crossed and eyes cold. Disapproving that Mark had decided a human was more important to him than preparing the planet.

Mark hadn’t cared though, he had flipped his mom off and floated upstairs, fully intending to skip. He had got your number and wanted to ask if you planned on skipping too. What did he need school for when the empire was going to be here soon enough anyway?

Debbie hadn’t let him, neither had Nolan. He could’ve fought his mom on it, but not his dad. So he had begrudgingly gone in, only to find you standing outside and waiting for him, had said so yourself. You offered him another cig and neither of you went to a single class that day.

Everyone in his life tried to tell him that you were a bad influence, that he needed to cut you out of his life and get back on track. But Mark didn’t care. He didn't want to be the person he was before he met you. Despite all the talk, he believed - he knew - you were the best of them. The best humanity had to offer. And even if he thought he was above humans, he still does, he liked you well enough.

You ended up infecting every part of Mark’s life. Encouraging him to shave his hair into a mohawk after sneaking into his house through his bedroom window. You had only managed it because Nolan was out on a mission, gone in space for a while before he would be back.

There was hesitancy at first, especially because you brought your own clippers. But you shepherded him into the bathroom with the promise that he could shave your hair if he let you do his. He still laughs when he remembers Debbie's scream, opening the bathroom door to find her son with a mohawk and a girl she had never met before halfway through getting a buzz cut. You had been kicked out and had to take the clippers with you, leaving you with half your head shaved, but you rocked it. At least Mark thought you did.

He gathered the courage to ask you out eventually in the second to last year. You had said yes. And you celebrated by taking him to your favourite spot, just outside the suburbs, and sharing a joint with him. It was the first time Mark smoked, and the first time he told you he was Invincible.

He remembers how warm your laugh was when he told you, smoke rolling from your lips. He hadn’t even had a chance to take a hit yet, already feeling high just off the sight of you. 

You had told him that the yellow and blue of his costume were cartoonish, so friendly and conformist. Then you had taken another hit, pulled him in for a kiss and blew smoke into his mouth. Mark was never sure if the weed is what had him feeling loo[y by the end of the night, or if it's the fact you had sex in the dying afternoon light.

It’s not long after that that Nolan proclaims you too much of a distraction. He could put up with it while you were just Mark’s friend apparently, but the second you turned into something more, it was too much for the man and you had to go. Mark had flown into a blind rage, years of putting up with his father thinking he had any right to boss Mark about coiling and striking like a snake in a single moment.

His mother had screamed the same way she had after finding out Mark had killed his father. Like shaving his hair and killing his dad were on the same level of bad. He silenced her and stopped her stupid fumble to call Cecil with a backhand, then flew straight to you.

Mark told you everything the second you let him in, getting words out between desperately lustful kisses that needed to be shared. About the empire, about what was going to happen to Earth. About his plans to take over the empire, about how he was going to be emperor and you could be his empress.

You had recoiled at that, disgusted. Despite it all, despite how hated you were by his parents and teachers and everyone in both of your lives, you still didn’t want Earth being taken over. Told him you were a punk and an anarchist, not whatever he thought you were.

Mark had hit you the same way he hit his mother, all spurred by a moment of anger. It was too late to stop it by the time you were falling, jaw horribly out of place and head wrenched far too far to one side.

Even with his powers, the shock stopped Mark from grabbing you before your head hit the corner of the coffee table, a wet crunch ringing out. By the time his hands were on you, there was no pulse or breathing. He had wanted to try CPR, but he never actually learned how - too busy worrying about when the empire came and uncaring of any other human - and was too worried that he would break you more if he tried.

He held you until your body was cold and stiff. And then he holds it even longer, until your muscles go slack again. It’s only then that he takes you to your bedroom and lies you in your bed, tucking you in like you might just be sleeping and placing a kiss on your cold, bloody, and wounded temple. Then Mark left, walking out the front door the same way he came in, using the key under the mat to lock it behind him before putting it back in place.

[ursa-tan]

Maskless Mark

Mark adores you. You've come to be his best friend through it all, supported him through everything. Why do you have to go and ruin it?

Masterpost + explanation

TW: Extreme violence, mentioned homophobia

He asked you out when he thought he was still into girls. You were chill, calm and collected, and you got along well enough. Marks thinks that’s what confused him into believing he was attracted to you. Or maybe it was because he did find you pretty, even if only aesthetically now he thinks back on it. The same way one would find a flower or a piece of art of the sunset pretty.

He remembers that you had said yes hesitantly, like you weren’t sure if it was something you had actually wanted or if you were just agreeing for the convenience. He hadn’t bothered asking you, relief flooding his chest because he had a girlfriend, something his parents had been subtly hinting at.

There were times where the relationship felt difficult, but nothing between you was ever forced. You hung out like friends did, every “date” just an excuse to go to the arcade or to catch a new movie that one of you wanted to watch. More often than not, William had tagged along, less third wheeling and more just there to hang out. He never questioned why neither of you seemed particularly couple-y, so neither did either of you.

Even if holding your hand felt forced and the kisses you pressed to his cheek felt stilted and weird, you both kept dating. Long enough for you to make it to a year, where you bundled him into your old, beat up truck and promised him something cool. 

You drove him out of state, somewhere dark and warm, the summer heat still settled in the air despite the sun having been gone for well over an hour now. You had apologised at how long it had taken, said you knew he could’ve flown you there in less than half the time. But, you had also put the time into planning this, so he wasn’t truly too mad. But he did miss WIlliam, wished he had asked you to bring him too, sure you would’ve said yes if the awkward way you’re refusing to look at him was anything to go by.

You set up a small, makeshift bed in the back of the truck, complete with string lights and Mark’s favourite snacks. You had even brought your laptop so the two of you could watch seance dog should you get bored of star gazing. Even if you didn’t like it that much, even if you had other favourite comic books and far preferred sci-fi over the fantasy that mark did.

Mark laid next to you, head on the same pillow as you both stared up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle and glitter above your heads. He remembers how you had hesitantly reached for his hand, moving like it was more out of obligation than actually wanting to hold it. Feeling like you had to do it, like it was necessary for your anniversary date.

There's a beat of silence before he takes your hand back, feeling like he has to as well. He likes you, he thinks you’re great, thinks you deserve to feel like he wants to hold your hand at the very least.

“I’m gay,” You blurted out not even a moment after his fingers laced through yours. The words flood mark with the same relief he had felt when you had accepted his proposal for a date the first time. Suddenly holding your hand feels much more natural, much more like something that he wanted to do rather than something he needed to do.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to respond in kind, which had you visibly relaxing next to him. Your fingers twine a little more tightly with his, and he could only guess you felt the same kind of relief.

Mark also told you that night that he thought he was in love with William, or at least had a very big crush on him. The rest of the night was spent helping Mark plan how to ask William out. It was the best date the two of you had ever gone on.

You and Mark never officially broke up, not to either of your parents. Mark’s because he knew what Nolan’s mission on earth was and he was afraid of what would happen to William if his father found out. You because your parents were insanely homophobic and it made it easier if you just pretended to have a boyfriend. Didn’t stop him from dating William - after explaining the whole situation, his father included - or you from trying to date other girls. Unfortunately, you weren’t as lucky as he was.

Things continued peacefully while you went to college. Mark introduced you to Eve eventually, and the two of you hit it off. You already had experience dating a cape, so the fact she had to dip out sometimes wasn't too hard on you. Plus, sometimes it meant that Mark got to steal you and have one-on-one time with you again, something he had grown to miss out of his closest friend. Something that came much easier now you two didn’t have to pretend you were dating anymore.

Then his dad found out. He didn’t even say anything to Mark, even as Mark stumbled over himself over and over again, trying to explain that it wasn’t like that. Trying to lie and say it was an open relationship, that he was still dating you but also dating William. Trying to lean into his dad’s sense of pride and say he was entitled to as many human pets as he wanted, he was a Viltrumite.

None of this stopped the beatdown mark received, stopped his dad from breaking his jaw or his legs or his ribs. Didn’t stop him jetting off as soon as Mark wasn't able to fight back anymore. Didn’t stop him from having to visit William’s grave as soon as he recovered enough to get out of the GDA hospital.

Mark blamed you, seeing as you were still alive. He didn’t know why it was your fault, just that it was. That WIlliam was dead and you were alive and somehow, it was your fault.

He found you curled up in your childhood bedroom, having taken a break from college to mourn William. He had been your friend too after all, and you both cared about Mark - albeit in your own ways - which had only brought you closer. It didn’t matter to Mark, all that mattered is that he could hear you crying instead of WIlliam.

Your head had lifted when he knocked on the window and you scrambled to open it, tears hot and fresh on your face as you reached out for his comfort. It never came though, because his fist flew forwards before you could even get the window to latch open so he could float in.

Mark didn’t stop there. He kept going, screaming that it was your fault that William was dead. That somehow, someway, you were responsible for it. He didn’t stop till he was crying, hunched over and holding his face. You were so much below him when he stopped as you were smeared everywhere. Walls bright red, floor and every other flat surface covered in viscera. Even the ceiling wasn’t unaffected, also spattered with what remained of you. Not even dental records could identify you by the time he left your room, leaving what was left of you for your parents to find and be distraught over.

He didn’t feel better afterwards, even if he told himself he did. The hole in his chest hadn’t closed up. He was sure the chasm yawned wider if anything, but he refused to believe that was because he killed you. It was just because he missed William, he kept telling himself.

Even as he went after his father, even as he struck the man down and stood over his decapitated, heartless, gutted body. Even as he killed Eve when she came for the revenge killing on your behalf, screaming and sobbing the whole time.

It’s only when it all finally stops, when there's no one to fight him, to come after him anymore, does Mark let the weight of what he's done consume him. William was dead, you were dead. The two people he cared about most in the world, the two people that meant something to him, the two people who made him feel like he could be normal despite it all. Both dead, and one of them was at his hands.

[ursa-tan]

Invincible x reader shorts

For the Fic I'm planning to post. These are snapshots of each of the Marks, how they end up meeting their version of the reader and how, eventually, they end up killing their version of the reader.

Also I’m aware these aren’t the ones that get trapped in the wasteland in cannon, but we’re playing it fast and loose here so… we’re going with my favourite boys instead.

Hoping to put out a new one every week until I've done all 8.

Read at your own discression

TW: Blood and gore, cannon typical violence, straight up murder, drug usage, sex mentioned, [will continue to update as I write more] Each of these readers also have pretty distinguished personalities and character traits, but they're relevant to the plot for each mark. No physical description beyond being fem/afab is used.

Maskless

Mohawk

Omni

Viltrumite

Full mask

No goggles

Shiesty

Sinister

[ursa-tan]

Possible new fanfic

Been getting SUPER into invincible lately and with the advent of the new season, I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a long form invincible x reader fic?

The idea is ultimately to do the whole "there's something different about the reader in the main universe" but I won't actually be including the reader till quite a fair bit later in the grand scheme of things.

Please let me know what you think and whether you'd be interested in seeing this :3 comments about it always appreciated but not necessary ofc <3

Summary below:

In every universe, Mark Grayson adores you. It never matters how you meet, when or where or at what point in either of your lives. He always, always comes to adore you. 

And in every universe but this one, he kills you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the only universe where the reader is alive, functioning and not dead by Mark Grayson's hands. This also happens to be the only universe where the reader has superpowers and is fighting alongside Mark as a hero, or at least hero adjacent.

[ursa-tan]

Ice cold shock (of love and reality)

Simon has never been good at forming healthy relationships, platonic, romantic or otherwise. Maybe it was his upbringing, maybe it was joining the military as soon as possible, who knows - not Ghost and certainly not his mandated therapist. But whatever it is, Ghost seems to enjoy being a little mean to the things (and the people) he likes. Even meaner to the ones he loves.

It seems the gnarled lieutenant is especially mean to you, something about the world not being nice. You don’t really mind, you’ve looked up to the guy since you’ve heard about him. At least, you think it's admiration

Or

Simon fucks you good and hard and mean. And you love it.

Word count: 5.2k

Reading time: ~19 min

Simon is a bully. Not horrible, and not to people he doesn’t know. But if he likes someone, he’s a bully. After the lifetime he’s lived, being unable to properly express affection makes sense.

It’s a well known fact that he’s meaner to the recruits he likes, pushing them harder than the others. And it’s not an uncommon sight to see him taunting Soap into shouting till the Scot is barely understandable and nearly red in the face, all while Simon tries not to snicker too loudly at the curses and Gaelic mutterings.

And he’s especially rough with you while sparring. Pinning you whenever he has the chance, often with a hand on the back of your head or a knee in your back. Words he mutters aren’t fun or flirty, but a gruff “world ain’t gonna be nice. Better learn now, ‘fore someone puts a gun to your head.”

It’s not like you’re a bad fighter. You don’t get into TF 141 if you’re a bad fighter. But Ghost takes a special, sadistic kind of joy in being mean to you, especially when he knows you’re more than capable of defending yourself.

Simon is especially mean when he has you alone and all to himself. Like now, pinned under his large, warm body on the floor of your barracks room. His thick bicep and forearm wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to make breathing a rasping, desperate affair. His thighs on either side of yours, knees digging into the floor, keeping your legs squeezed together. All while his weight pins you down, all 210 pounds of muscle and minimal fat keeping your smaller body squished against the cold floor. He hadn’t even bothered to drag you over to the shitty cot pressed up against the far wall of your room.

“You even fightin’ anymore Luvie? Feels like you’ve given up,” Simon croons, masked face pressed just behind your ear. His voice is low and mocking, so close, mean in a way that has sticky warmth growing between you. All the while, his hips press to yours, rutting hard against the fat of your ass, practically dry humping you now.

His cock is rock hard against you, a thick ridge pressing in just the right way to send little sparks of pleasure up your spine. Simon’s almost entirely sure there’d be a nice wet spot on the crotch of your fatigues if he were to pull away - shame he doesn’t want to.

“Feels like you aren’t trying,” he huffs, the arm that had been bracing him moving just enough to pull his mask up and over his nose. Then it’s back and his tongue is licking a wet strip up behind your ear - much wetter than it needs to be. All for the sake of making it obvious he can do whatever he wants.

You try to respond, but Simon just tightens the arm around your throat, muscles flexing in a way that cuts your air off and makes your vision swim, head going light. When he finally lets up and allows you to go back to gasping for air, you still don’t respond. Any brain power you have left is all being directed towards the delicious, slick warmth between your thighs as opposed to trying to fight your way out of his grip. Not that you ever really wanted to, honestly, quite content to let him man handle you however he wanted.

“Actin’ like you been fucked stupid already?” Simon grunts as he finally shifts, moving his hips just enough to rut his hard cock against the wet patch he knew would be there. He’s looking forwards to checking for it once he’s got you out of your clothes and has actually finished fucking you dumb. “You ain’t even been fucked yet, pull it together. Thought you were supposed to be one of the best. Were they wrong about you Sargent?”

“N-No,” you slur out, voice catching in your dry throat. Talking hurts now, especially after gasping for so long has dried out your mouth and throat. Simon seems to pick up on this immediately, rutting his hips against you especially hard, flexing his bicep all over again.

Your hands come up so you can claw at his arm, not really caring to hold back as your nails dig in and scrape long red marks into his tattooed flesh. There’s a split second where he thinks about berating you for ruining the ink, but then Simon realises he doesn’t really mind if it’s you. Hell, he’d be quite proud to show it off. Might have to wear short sleeves tomorrow.

“Tha’s it… bet I could make ya’ cum like this… seem to have a thing for being choked,” Simon chuckles, sound rumbling so hard in his chest that you can feel it vibrating against your back.

When you try to talk this time, Simon drops his full weight onto you - just for a moment, he can’t thrust properly without the leverage of his arm - and it knocks a lovely little whine out of you. Simon quickly follows it up with a rough thrust, bouncing your body forwards and making you choke on his muscles around your throat just slightly more.

“Yeah, reckon I could. Make you make a mess in your panties, hmm Sarg?” He loves doing this, using your title and watching - feeling - you squirm under him. If he was inside you he’d be able to feel you tighten up at it. Quite pathetic actually, but god if he doesn’t love it.

Simon’s arm finally gives up on bracing his massive weight and wiggles between your bodies, rough knuckles scraping against the shitty wood floors. He only stops once three of his thick fingers are pressed over your aching clit through the dense fabric of your fatigues. Then he’s rubbing back and forth in a rough, sweeping motion that’s not particularly pleasurable. But with how he’s already being plenty mean, it doesn’t really matter.

You let out a delightfully loud, equally distressed and pleasured squeak as Simon manages to catch the seam of the trousers on your clit. He’s beyond excited at this, mouth twisting into a cruel smirk, lips pressed to your skin enough for you to feel it. God does it feel good.

“Simon!” You gasp, the arm around your throat loosening just enough for word to slip out. Doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he realises, Simon is tightening his arm around your throat again. Forcing you to be quiet all over again by quite literally choking the words out of you.

“Shut it,” he grunts, forcing the elbow of the arm around his neck to take his weight so he doesn’t crush you - not entirely at least. His fingers press harder, rubbing faster. “Less y’re cummin’, I ain’t interested.”

You let out a strangled noise that makes it sound like you're dying as Simon moves his fingers back and forth over your clit in a painfully messy way. There’s a thick wet patch on your fatigues now, your panties beyond soaked. His fingers never stop moving though, never stop rubbing messy lines back and forth over your clit. The pleasure that sparks through you mingles with the dizziness of his arm around your neck to press sticky heat into your cunt.

Finally, your hands tense up and claw harder at his arm, your blunt nails biting into his skin so hard that - for a second - Simon thinks you’re about to break the skin and ruin his tattoo. The rest of your body is quick to tense up and follow, muscles twitching and jolting. Simon doesn’t let up at any point, fingered moving faster if anything else, pressing harder on your clit.

“There…” Simon mumbles as you finally start to come down, muscles in your legs twitching and kicking out slightly, all because he refuses to let up. He waits until you’re gasping softer than before, body going as slack as it can while he's still playing with you, before he finally lets up and sits back, letting go of your neck and instead pinning you by sitting on the back of your thighs.

“Y’re so pretty when you cum,” The man above you mumbles, bringing the hand that had been playing with your cunt through your fatigues to his face, letting himself indulge in the smell for just a moment. A low, rumbling moan comes from him as he simply takes a moment to just enjoy himself. Then he’s bringing his hands back down to squeeze under your body, trying to find the buckle of your belt so he can tug it out and discard it somewhere in the room that he can worry about later.

The belt comes off and Simon shifts back to be sitting on your calves instead, keeping you pinned while still allowing him to pull your trousers down. He’s careful not to drag your panties down with it, wanting to take his time to enjoy pulling them off and watching as the soaked cotton sticks to your cunt.

“Look at that,” Simon whispers in delight as he finally gets a good look at your pussy, even through the fabric of your panties. The soaked cotton clings perfectly to your body, making the perfect outline for him to drool over. He knows he's going to be picturing this any time he wanks for the next month.

Simon changes his plan because he knows he can’t let this vision go to waste. So he pulls back, getting off your body and dragging you up as he stands. You let out a tired murmur as Simon tucks you under his arm, finally deciding to walk you over to the bed. For a moment you think he’s going to cuddle you. Instead, he throws you down onto the shitty mattress and positions you so your hips are notched over the edge, leaving you kneeling with your upper body pressed into the sheets.

“Simon?” you mumble, pushing your torso up and trying to twist your head around so you can look at him. Simon pushed your head down in response, his large, scarred hand on one side of your head to keep you down, stop you from moving.

“You stay there. Don’t move,” he grunts, the fingers of his other hand, the one that had been playing with your cunt before, comes back to prod at your clit once more. They're not careful at all, nudging under the hood even through your panties. The stimulation makes you squirm, trying to kick away from him. This only leads you to receiving a sharp smack to your ass,no doubt leaving an irritated red mark that’s going to be there for at least an hour.

Once you finally stop moving, Simon gets on his knees behind you and grips your thighs with his large, warm hands. For a few moments, he just spends time kneading the soft flesh, thumbs creeping closer and closer to your already soaked cunt without ever actually touching you.

A pathetic little whine spills from your lips as one of his thumbs brushes over your cunt, exasperating the need you feel thrumming through your body, thumping in time with your pulse. Simon seems to pick up on this and ghosts his thumb over your cunt, focusing on your clit, over and over again.

Far too quickly, he pulls his thumb away from your clit and - even if the stimulation wasn’t massive - you whine and press your hips backwards, seeking more. Instead of smacking your ass like you had expected, and almost wanted, you feel his hot breath puff over your cunt. Then his tongue is pressing hot and broad over your core through the soaked panties, drawing a squeal from you and a low groan from him.

Simon’s hands grab the fat of your hips and he pulls you back slightly, onto his face and tongue so he can lick and suck at you messily through the fabric. This time, moans spill freely from your mouth, no longer stifled by his arm around your throat.

“Shut it, don’t need anyone hearing you,” He grunts, pulling away just long enough to grumble before going straight back in. You scrunch up the thin duvet and shove it into your mouth, biting down hard on it and drooling all over the fabric. It doesn’t do much to keep you quiet, but apparently it’s enough to keep Simon happy because he doesn’t pull away again.

His tongue keeps lapping thick, board stroked all the way over your cunt, never taking a moment to pull your panties aside. He drags it slowly from your clit right up to the top of your hole, pressingly slightly harder over it, like he’s trying to tongue fuck you through your panties.

“Please Simon,” you slur through the mouthful of fabric, pressing your hips back, desperate for him to go faster, harder, anything really.

“Shut it,” he growls into your heart, lips moving against you in a way that has your cunt fluttering. He seems to notice this and captures your clit between his lips, sucking on it through the fabric. It’s not enough suction for you, or him really, but it’s enough to have more moans spilling from your throat and your legs twitching and kicking a little.

“Cum like this an’ I’ll let you feel my fingers,” Simon mumbles, licking another long strip up your cunt once more. The pleasure is already too much, but the promise of getting to fuck yourself stupid on his thick, warm, scarred fingers has you tipping once more.

You bury your face into the covers and moan so loud there’s no doubt that the people on either side of your room will be able to hear it. Not that either you or Simon care, not when it feels this good. Not when the pleasure pulses through you so hard that you can feel it all the way from your aching jaw all to your feet.

There's a thin coating of slick over the bottom half of Simon's face when he pulls away from you, transferred from the soaked fabric of your panties into the exposed skin. His casual mask - the one he’s wearing right now - is going to smell like your pussy until he washes it. Which will be as long as he can possibly get away with.

Simon finally climbs back to his feet with a little grunt, looming over you. Your head is flopped to the side, drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth as you half open eyes turn on him. His face, half hidden by the balaclava pushed up over his nose, is twisted with a cruel smirk that makes your stomach ache with arousal as he stares down at you.

Very suddenly, Simon’s hands are on your hips and he flips you onto your back. At some point your fatigues were pulled off, now in a scruffy pile on the floor, letting Simon push your thighs apart and slide himself between them with no resistance.

There's no snarky comment this time, not this time. Not as his fingers find the sides of your panties and slowly pull them down. The crotch sticks to your pussy as he slowly peels them off of you, making Simon groan loudly as he watches the slick stings of your arousal snap when he finally gets the panties too far away from your core.

“God damn,” he whispers, pushing the fabric back up and letting the slightly cool, slick crotch of your panties press against your heated core. You shiver, only made worse when he presses a few warm fingers against you, sticking the material back to you just so he could pull it away all over again, watch those milky strings of slick snap all over again.

“Simon please,” You whisper, toes pressing into the floor and hips raising up to try and tempt him to pull them off of you completely. “Said I could have your fingers. Please let me feel your fingers.”

“Maybe I should make you beg more often. Quite like the way it sounds,” Simon chuckles again, finally pulling your panties off and tossing them aside, somewhere he makes sure to remember for later. He’ll retrieve them once you’re too exhausted to realise what he’s doing.

You shuffle up slightly further onto the bed at a soft pat on your thigh, although not too far, because Simon drags you back to the edge when you try to lay in line with the bed. It makes sense when he drops to his knees and pulls your thighs over his shoulders, puffing warm breaths over your already scorching hot pussy.

“Smell so good,” Ghost grumbles low in his throat, letting his eyes close as he takes a deep breath of your must through his nose. He’s definitely huffing your panties later.

Slowly, he purses his lips and blows a cooler stream of air over your clit, watching your cunt twitch and shiver as he does. You relax when he stops, only to tense up immediately when he does it again, thighs twitching over his broad shoulders this time, jumping slightly. Ghost just smiles to himself and keeps going, blowing cool air on your poor, aching, abused cunt for about a minute before he finally has enough.

Without warning, your Lieutenant finally leans in and captures your clit between his lips, sucking it hard into the scorching heat of his mouth. His tongue lashes over the sensitive bundle of nerves and draws something between a hiccup and a moan from your throat, body twitching and arching up into his mouth. It’s wet and messy and entirely too targeted in a way that makes you feel like he’s licking an exposed nerve.

“Wait- Simon please it’s too much!” Both of your hands come down, attempting to dig into his hair but just fisting the fabric of his mask instead. Simon just grunts, big brown eyes focused on you and the way your face contorts in pleasure.

Simon’s fingers - 2 long, thick, scared fingers - finally press against your sloppy cunt. There’s not a chance to beg for it or plead for him to go slower before he’s dipping them into you. Only the tips at first, feeling the way you flutter around him like you’re trying to push him out and pull him in all at the same time. Like your body doesn’t quite know what it wants.

Your moan breaks Simon’s concentration, eyes flicking back up to your face, even if he can’t see it properly with the way your back is arching and your chest is pushed out. But your hips grind down and your hands tug harder at his mask, desperately attempting to pull him closer, like his mouth isn’t already attached to your sopping cunt.

“Don’t pull the mask off,” Simon grunts, deep voice thrumming through your body and making your muscles pull taught, like freshly tuned guitar strings. It’s not that you haven’t seen his face before - spend long enough around Simon to know he likes to be mean to people for fun and you’re bound to see his face. It’s just that he’s getting off far too much on the mask smelling like your cunt to let you take it off, even if the idea of you pulling on his hair is making his dick twitch insistently in his fatigues.

“Please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good! Please god let me have your fingers, let me- ohhhh gooooood.” Simon cuts off your desperate, rambling begging by sliding his fingers half way into you, crooking them just right before dragging him out. Curse him and his steady fingers, you’re going to cum before you even get to feel them properly.

“No god here luv, just me,” he grunts, and you can feel the smirk on his face as he sucks your clit back into his mouth and lashes over the swollen nub with the point of his tongue. It’s only made worse as he finally presses his fingers knuckle deep into you, reaching further in than you ever could and curling them to press against a spot that makes white explode through your vision.

It’s not his name that spills from your lips as you make a spectacle of yourself, cumming a third time. It’s barely a word honestly, a strangles choke that sounds something like “fuck” but is far too garbled by pleasure to make out. Simon simply allows himself to feel a certain pride about this as he works you through your third orgasm.

Simon stands slowly, hands pressing on your hips to help himself up. Only now does he discard the mask, throwing it off and hoping it lands near your panties - makes them easier to collect later.

Your eyes are hazy and unfocused, but you’re still keenly aware of the hulking for, standing between your thighs, stripping his clothes off as fast as he can without making a fool of himself. You’re especially aware of the clink and thwip of his belly as he undoes it and pulls it from the belt loops. You push yourself up onto your elbows just in time to see Simon finally shed the last of his clothing.

Simon is massive, cock heavy and thick enough that - even achingly hard - it bobs downwards and very nearly hangs between his thighs. And it’s dribbling a ridiculous amount of pre-cum, pearly drops of it no doubt hitting the floor. It makes your mouth water so much you know you’ll drool if you sit up at all.

One of his massive paws rests on your thigh, pushing it down to pin you partially to the bed. Like he’s worried you might run away. The other takes hold of his cock at the base, giving it a single pump before leaning in to press the tip against your swollen clit, tapping it a few times.

“Simon,” you whine, hands coming to his lower abdomen. Your finhing to reach for his cock, to guide that thick, pre-cum slicked head into your desperate pgers are itcussy. But you know trying that is just going to prolong the wait.

“Shut it,” Simon grumbles in response, head tilted down, brown eyes focused on your cunt. All while he holds his cock steady, rocking his hips forwards and nudging your clit. “Y’ll take watcha get ‘n y’ll like it.”

Your lips press into a tight line in response, trying not to give him any reason to stop what he’s doing. This seems to please Simon, as he slowly taps the head of his cock against your clit, sticky strands of mixed slick and pre-cum connecting your heat to his every time he pulls his cock away.

Simon keeps at this for what feels like hours, alternating between tapping the head of his cock against your throbbing clit and rocking his hips forwards through your slick to nudge the aching bud. He doesn’t even stop after your eyes start to tear up, little hiccups falling from your lips, hands scrabbling at the wrist of his hand gripping your hip.

“Please Lieutenant…” you try pleading, using his title. Anything to get him to finally give in and fuck you like he’s been gearing up to this entire time.

“Oh? Callin’ me lieutenant now?” Simon’s face twists into a cruel, knowing smirk and it makes your gut twist with something between needy heat and apprehension over what he’s about to do.

His rough hands grab the back of your thighs, notching into the bend of your knee, callouses digging into your skin. Simon presses your legs up fast enough to almost wind you, knees to your shoulders, squishing your thighs to your chest. It’s enough to force the breath out of you and make it hard for you to pull more of it in.

“Surely that isn’t going to take you out, sergeant. Knees to your chest and y’re wheezing?” Simon leans down, getting in your face in a way that would be horribly intimidating if you weren’t so turned on you couldn't think straight.

Simon pulls his hips back slightly, trying to notch the thick, sticky head of his cock against your dripping hole. It takes him a little, although his big brown eyes never break from yours and you don’t have the nerve to break from his. After a few attempts, he finally manages to find the right angle and presses his hips forwards, sheathing himself in one slow, steady motion.

His head drops to your shoulder - or at least attempts to, but your leg is in the way, so his forehead ends up pressed against the back of your leg. There's a single moment where Simon presses a soft kiss to the back of your thigh, mouth open and soft and wanting. Then he seems to regain himself and sink his teeth into the soft flesh on the back of your thigh before you have a chance to think about what that moment possibly could’ve meant. You’re glad, really, because you don’t want to think about how much you enjoyed it.

“Simon, you’re gonna leave a mark,” You moan softly, but your leg twitches up into his mouth and he closes his mouth a little tighter, sinking his teeth in a little further and sucking just hard enough to break the capillaries and leave a nasty hickey on the back of your thigh. You have no doubt that it’s going to hurt by the time it darkens to the deep purple Simon always leaves on you.

By the time Simon’s mouth is pulling away from your thigh, his hips are already rolling into yours, angled perfectly to hit that soft, spongey spot inside you that has your head falling back against the pillow as your neck finally gives up on supporting its weight. The man above you only presses your legs down harder in response, leveraging himself to hit that spot inside of you even better.

“Simon,” You gasp, legs twitching as another orgasm starts to rapidly approach. Despite the overstimulation, you feel desperate for more. You’ve been craving his cock stuffing you full from the second he pinned you to the floor originally. “Gonna- oh god- please- im-”

Your words are stuttering and halting, interrupted by his thrusts and your own gasping breaths. The message seems to be clear enough though, because Simon lets go of one of your thighs in favour of rubbing circles over your already rubbed raw clit. The thigh he's not holding to your shoulder hits his instead, calf draped over his back, muscles twitching and pulling like you’re trying to tug him closer. The other twitches in his grip like it's trying to break free of his large, warm grip.

“Y’wanna cum, luvie?” Simon gives you that same, mean, twisted smile from before and your heart pounds in your chest with enough force to physically knock the wind out of you. All you can do is nod furiously, needing another one even if the stimulation is starting to hurt at this point.

“Open your mouth.” Simon purses his lips and you immediately do as told, sticking your tongue out for good measure. His eyes crinkle at this and spits a slightly frothy glob of saliva into your waiting mouth. To which you snap your jaw shut and greedily swallow it down, desperate for anything he will give you. Desperate for the taste of him.

Something about watching you so eagerly swallow his spit seems to do something to Simon, sparking something in his brain that has him cumming faster than he expected. His eyes go wide, pupils dilated so far that the sweet brown of his eyes is almost completely swallowed by the void-like black.

He goes stiff above you, fingers stilling on your clit and hand tightening on your thigh. Simon's eyes finally close, head dropping with a stifled moan spilling from his lips, so quiet that you can’t hear it over the pounding thump of blood in your ears. But he moans all the same, thick cock twitching and spilling inside you, hips twitching to bury himself as deep as possible as he makes a mess inside you.

The feeling of his cock twitching and pulsing inside you with each spurt of his cum has your face scrunching and then going slack in pleasure, whole body twitching as another, albeit weaker, orgasm washes over you. It leaves you exhausted and sweaty anyway, panting under Simon as he lets both of your legs slide down to rest around his waist so he can settle his weight atop you like some kind of human weighted blanket.

Moments pass in perfect silence, only filled with the the sound of both of you breathing softly, before anyone moves. Simon pulls himself up the bed, hands coming to your hips so he can manoeuvre you both without separating from you.

You whine at the sensation, overwhelmed already and struggling to stay awake. Simon mumbles something that sounds like comfort and you tighten your thighs around his thick hips in response, arms encircling his shoulders.

The man above you presses a sloppy kiss to your jaw in response, breath smelling like sex, pungent even from where he’s tucked into your neck. His thick thighs pull up, surprisingly soft, fine blond hairs tickling your own as he puts you into what is effectively a mating press. Hands looping under your arms and clasping your shoulders, pulling your bodies impossibly closer, holding you impossibly tighter. You don’t fight it, exhausted and desperate for his comforting heat. Even if your overworked, overused cunt is sore and twitching with him still inside you.

“S’ alright luvie, know you’re tired… ain’t gonna ask for more…” Simon mumbles against your neck, lips on your skin, mouthing at your pulse point like he’s trying to taste your heartbeat.

You just tilt your head back in response and let Simon indulge in the soft warmth of your next. His ministrations leaving a soft sheen of saliva over your next, something you’ll worry about in the morning. For now, you let your eyes shut as you drift off, hands scratching softly at Simon’s

When morning does come, you’re alone in your bed, duvet tucked around your curled up form. The red numbers of your clock suggests you have just over an hour till you’re due to get up, and the cold, sticky sensation between your thighs suggests you should roll out of bed now and get cleaned up.

Instead, you find yourself laying on your back, hands intertwined over your stomach, staring up at the ceiling. Simon always leaves, never sticks around long enough for you to wake up and see his eyes peacefully closed.

Giving up on the thought of finally finding Simon next to you in bed, you pull back the covers and swing your legs over, letting your feet touch the floor. A hand cups your crotch to prevent anymore leakage and you waddle your way towards the bathroom. New day, you have shit to get on with. And besides, it won’t be too long before Simon is walking in and locking the door behind him all over again.

[ursa-tan]

Bruce Wayne|Batman

NSFW overstimulation Drabble 🍑

Fuck me like you did back then 🍑

Clark Kent|Superman

NSFW overstimulation Drabble 🍑

Jason Todd|Red Hood

All you need is love 🧡

[ursa-tan]

Ghost

Devil Dog 🧡💥 (in progress)(abandoned)

Ice cold shock (of love and reality) 🧡

Price

Number 1 supporter 🍑

König

The shy ones are always the kinkiest 🍑

How much kinkier can he get…? 🍑

Drabbles

141 + König teaching Medic!Reader how to spar 🧡

141 + König with reader who’s just had a long day 🧡

[ursa-tan]

Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington

You should be a bard 🍑

[ursa-tan]

Howdy Pillar

Metamorphosis 🧡

Wally Darling

Soft 🧡

Other

Welcome home x human reader

Eating head cannon

PlayfellowXXX masterlist

[ursa-tan]

Kinktober 2023 - incomplete

☆Kinktober 2025☆ - incomplete

[ursa-tan]

Konshu

Don’t fight with me 🍑

[ursa-tan]

Kenny McCormick

Floating 🍑

That wasn’t very heroic 🧡

[ursa-tan]

Bad dreams, good comforts 🧡

[ursa-tan]

Day 25 - Uniform kink - Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Clark has a horrible interaction with a reporter and comes home to fuck his anger out with you.

A/N & possible warnings: the superman costume counts as a uniform… right? Also, a little identity porn, again

This didn't turn out how I thought it would at all. So, uh… sorry for the lack of uniform kink in the uniform kink fic?

Word count: 1.2k

Reading time: ~4 mins

Clark lands on your balcony in the dead of night, seething after an interaction with a reporter who suggested he only cares about his appearance to the public. His hands tense as he tries to slide the french doors open as smoothly as possible. Even like this, he can’t bring himself to damage something on purpose - especially not something of yours.

“Superman?” You ask softly, walking out into the living room with only a pair of socks and some ratty, oversized cotton t-shirt that looks older than you are. A quick flicker of heat-vision shows that you’re also wearing his boxers, tied off around the waist with a hairband so they won’t fall down.

For a moment Clark thinks about correcting you, thinks about saying that no one followed him and bursting into a rant about the asshole reporter. But something makes him bite his tongue as he slides the door closed behind him and floats over to you, something he would never normally do inside - not like this at least.

“What are you doing?” You take a few more steps towards him, stopping a few feet away. He doesn't stop, however, coming to hover a few inches from you. His hand comes out and strong fingers ghost over your face.

“Had to come and see you,” He murmurs, a few fingers pressing under your chin and pulling your face up, making you look into his striking blue eyes.

A beat passes, a single moment, before Clark leans down and kisses you hard. His lips are rough and needy, pressing so hard against yours that your head is forced to tilt back slightly. He uses this chance to slide his tongue into your mouth, distracting you enough to make you stumble. One of his hands, the one not keeping your chin tilted up, grabs your thigh and slowly pulls you up, pinning your body against his. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, even if you know he's not going to drop you.

“Cla-” You try for his real name, lips smooshed against his enough to muffle your words. But he doesn’t let you, licking into your mouth so aggressively all you can do is let out a muffled squeal.

Clark’s hands both move to your ass, squeezing and kneading as he floats you over to the far wall. Your back hits it with a soft thump, knocking the wind out of you. Only then does he finally pull away and give you a chance to breathe.

“Kal-el,” he whispers, lips finding your neck, starting to mouth at your soft skin immediately. His warm mouth finds your pulse, starting to suck a dark hickey over it. You can practically feel the capillaries bursting when he finally pulls away. You have no doubt its going to be a horribly hard hickey in the morning.

“Kal…” You whisper, arms coming around his shoulders to grasp at his cape, getting handfuls of the red fabric. You can’t deny how good it feels to have it bunched in your hands like this.

“Need you. Need you so bad.” Clark’s mouth moves to the other side of your neck. There's no hope of stopping him as he seals his lips just below your jar, sucking hard and marking you again.

One of Clark’s warm hands leaves your ass, moving to your thigh before slowly pushing up. He pushes your old t-shirt up, warm fingers finding the boxers you’re wearing. There's a moment where you nearly unwrap your legs from his wait to allow him to pull them down. Before you can, however, there's a sharp tear of fabric and then the boxers are hanging loosely off your opposite thigh.

“Kal!” You yelp, muscles jumping when he shifts you from one hand to the other and finishes tearing the boxers off you. It’s completely unnecessary and somehow turns you on ever more than you already were.

“Can’t wait anymore. Had the worst day, need you so badly.” Clark is humbling with his costume, pushing on the waist until it finally slips down and sags around his calves, caught on his boots. He struggles with his own boxers as well, pushing them down until they strain around his mid thigh, allowing him to fist his half hard cock and rut it against your heat.

“‘M not wet enough yet,” You mumble and Clark hums in response, pulling away to put a little space between your bodies. Somehow, you seem to pick up on where this is going and pull your shirt up and out of the way, allowing him to spit a fat glob of saliva onto his cock. He fists it a little harder now that he’s trying to lube himself up, making sure to smear it over the head of his cock.

“Tell me if it hurts,” He huffs, canting his hips to line up with your heat, smearing a mix of his saliva and a little of the pre-cum that’s started to leak out of his newly hardened cock. Clark looks up at you for a second, blue eyes soften than they had been all evening. When you give him that little nod of go ahead he finally pushes forwards, sliding a few inches into your cunt with a little resistance.

Clark waits for a moment, pulling out to the tip and then pushes back in about an inch deeper. He keeps repeating this. Pulling nearly all the way out, pushing back in just a little deeper, waiting for you to adjust and then doing it all over again before finally bottoming out. Finally, once his hips meet yours, he stops to let you adjust a final time.

“Ok… Ok, Kal, you can go now…” You bury your face in his neck, your turn to mouth at him now. The cape scrunches harder in your hands when he actually starts to thrust. He speeds up quickly, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass as he finally finds his rhythm.

Moans quickly fill the air, the sound of wet skin on wet skin echoing as he keeps you pinned against the wall. You’re practically clawing at his back after just a few moments of his, rumpling his cape and scratching at the blue fabric of his uniform once the cape no longer suffices.

“So close… Please let me… I’ll make it up to you after…” Clark whispers against your throat, panting harshly as his rhythm starts to falter, hips more so rutting into you than actually thrusting, desperate not to leave your warmth.

“Ok,” You gasp against his throat, trying not to let your voice fail you now. You know Clark will take care of you, Clark always takes care of you.

With a low, sweet moan, Clark’s hips press to yours, finally coming to a stop as he reaches his peak. His warmth spills into you, making a sticky white mess of your insides. There's a moment after he finishes where Clark just stays pinned against you, holding you both in the air and pressing you to the wall with his large, warm body.

Finally, Clark floats you both to the ground, the material of his boots creaking softly as he finally touches down. His nose finds your temple before he presses a few little kisses to your skin.

“Let me take care of you now,” He whispers, feet once again leaving the floor, even if only because he doesn’t want to trip over the suit around his ankles while he’s carrying you off to his bedroom.

[ursa-tan]

Day 29 - Full body bondage - Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

You tie dick up in full bondage gear and grind on him until you both cum.

A/N & possible warnings: sorry this one is late. I got really burnt out towards the end and couodn’t finish anything.

Word count: 0.9k

Reading time: ~3 mins

“Is that comfy?” You ask, buckling the final piece of leather into place, trying Dick’s legs so his ankles are pressed to his ass. Your partner gives a little wiggle in response before humming around the ball gag stuffed in his mouth.

“Ok baby. You remember how to tap out?” You move around to stand in front of him, threshing a hand into his hair and making him look up at you. There’s something soft and warm in his eyes as he looks up at you. It makes you want to kiss him.

Before that train of thought can go any further, there’s a soft jingling as Dick wiggles his hands. Although restrained behind his back, he’s able to wiggle them just enough to make the bell between his palms jingle. You’re so lucky he’s flexible enough to be put in a referee prayer position.

“Ok… Thank you baby. I’ll keep an ear out.” You finally lean down and press a kiss over the gag, feeling your lips wet with his saliva. Dick moans and tries to push his head forwards, wanting more. You pull his hair and he whines, but stops.

He’s kneeling on the floor, about a foot or so away from your bed, and you know exactly what you’re going to do. Completely unable to move, tied up and at your mercy. You reach for the wand strapped to his thigh and listen to him gasp as you turn it on, the buzzing filling the air but quickly being drowned out by his moans.

“So pretty… such a pretty boy…” you kneel before him, reaching out to smooth your hands up and down his thighs.

Dick tries to drop his head forwards, wanting to rest it on your shoulder. You tut and he whines again. For a moment you think you’re going to have to punish him, his head still hanging forwards. But he picks it up after a second and stares at you with already teary eyes.

“You look so beautiful when you cry, Dickie.” This time, as you lean in to kiss him again, you turn on the toy buried deep in his ass. Dick let’s put something that could only be described as a strangled sob, eyes squeezing shut and more saliva dribbling out around the gag. You just smirk into the facsimile of a kiss and enjoy the feel of your boyfriends moans vibrating through the gag and against your lips.

When you pull away, Dick tries to chase the ‘kiss’. No amount of tutting seems to correct this response, so you reach down and flick the wand up a couple settings. Dick screams and throws his head back, whole body convulsing for a second before he slouches forwards and cries a little harder.

“Oh… let me see those gorgeous eyes… look at me Dickie…” A crooked finger finds his chin and tilts his face up. His eyelashes are completely climbed together by now, tears slick down his face and dripping off the fine hairs. His face is a warm, splotchy red. It all makes him look ethereal.

The hand on his chin trails down until it splays over the leather harness covering his chest. Then you push him back and Dick goes down willingly, laying flat on the floor - as flat as he can with his arms behind his back and his feet under his ass.

The bell jingles softly and you stop, eyes snapping up to his face instead of roaming his toned stomach. Dick shakes his head before you can ask if that was on purpose. Then he pushes his hips up and moans a little louder. You’re all good to continue.

“Such a pretty boy… such a good boy~” You praise, slipping up Dick’s body to straddle his hips. Your unclothed core is ghosting over his aching hard on, restrained in the leather panties you got him to put on.

When you finally sit down - careful not to put enough pressure on him that you hurt him - the leather creates a delightful sensation against your clit. It’s only made better when you shit your hips backwards and get faint vibrations from the wand pulsing through your core.

Dick moans under you like he’s about to cum, cock twitching under your heat as he bucks his hops upwards slightly. You lift your hips and receive a muffled moan from him.

“You don’t cum until I do, understand?” Your finger fingers his chin again and you force him to look at you. Dick nods, moaning and whimpering as he tries to press his hips up again. You relent, feeling like he knows there will be consequences if he disobeys.

Your core meets his again and you both let out pleased noises - a hum from you and a sobbing gasp from him. Then you start to rock your hips again, smearing your slick arousal over his crotch and pressing your hole back against the head of the wand every few movements. Dick is gasping and sobbing under you, nostrils flaring as he tries to suck in as much air as possible. Tears are pouring down his face now, eyes rolling back in his head. It only makes you wetter.

You keep up this dance until your own stomach muscles start to twinge, pleasure building so high you can’t ignore your crescendo any longer. So, you place a hand on Dick’s stomach, throw your head back and cry out his name as you cum. Dick sobs again - this time in relief - as he cums in the leather panties and makes a mess as it spills out.

[ursa-tan]

Day 28 - Multiple orgasms - Tim Drake x Fem!Reader

Tim has you cumming on his mouth, fingers and cock before he lets himself cum

A/N & possible warnings: guess who’s suffering creative burnout! I’ll finish Kinktober and probably take about a months break from writing.

Also Kinktober is probably going to be a day behind from now on so… shhhh just pretend.

Word count: 0.7k

Reading time: ~3 mins

Tim has been between your legs for god knows how long now, tongue slowly picking you apart as it circles your sensitive bud. He’s been methodically going at it for so long that you can’t feel anything but his tongue anymore. And yet he hasn’t let you cum once the entire time

“Tim please, I’m desperate…” You whisper and press your hips upwards into his mouth, the hand in his hair trying to keep him pressed to your cunt. Tim only hums lowly, licking just below your clit. Enough to keep you on edge but not enough to let you slip over.

“Please- Timmy please you’ve been teasing me for ages!” You’re somewhere been massively over and horribly under sensitive. And it’s driving you mad.

Before you get a chance to complain again, the tip of his tongue flicks your clit directly and you’re hurtling over the edge with a loud wail. Both your hands dig into his soft, dark locks and tug him closer.

Tim licks you through your orgasm before slowly pulling away and pressing a wet kiss to the crease of your thigh. There’s barely a chance for you to come down before you’re kissing up his body and leaving a blazing trail of your arousal in his wake.

Tim captures your lips with his, distracting you with a kiss as he slips his index and middle finger into your slick cunt. You squeal into his mouth and Tim swallows the sound down with a low moan of his own. His slender fingers find that perfectly spongy bundle of nerves inside and crook, making your body arch up and press against his.

“You’re so pretty,” Tim mumbles against your lips, having to break the kiss for just a second before going back in for seconds. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth and you can taste the remnants of your own orgasm.

Your body is overwhelmed with sensation as Tim keeps going, curling and pressing the pads of his fingers against your insides. Your second orgasm hits you hard and fast and way before you expect it to. Every fibre in your body tenses like it’s trying to tear itself apart. Tim works you through the whole thing, fingers curling perfectly with every wave of pleasure that pulses through you in aftershocks.

“Not finished with you yet,” Tim mumbles as he pulls his fingers from you. He doesn’t lick them clean like he usually would. Instead he grasps his cock and smears your creamy slick over the head before slowly guiding it to nudge at your clit.

Tim’s mouth finds your pulse and sucks hard, eliciting a gasp from you before he slides his cock all the way in with one slow, continuous motion. It presses against your cervix for just a moment, both of your hips tilted just right to offer a glimpse of that delicious pain. Then he’s readjusting and instead the head of his cock is pressing against the same spot his fingers were working just a few moments ago and it has you practically seeing stars once again.

“Oh gods- Timmy ‘m close-“ you gasp, one hand fisting the sheets as the other claws at his back.

“Already? I just-“ he starts, only to be cut off by a loud moan coming from you. This has his cock twitching and his forward pressing to your collar bone. “Ok… just hold out a little longer, yeah?”

You mumble out something that sounds like ‘i’ll try’ and wrap your thighs around his waist. Tim takes this as his go ahead and starts to thrust into you, movements limited with how your legs are pinning him close to your body.

Tim’s cock drags deliciously along your insides, the head pressing and pulling along all the ridges in the perfect way. It’s only made worse when his fingers find your already over sensitive clit after his hand wiggled between your bodies. The pads of his fingers brush the bud and you sob out his name as your third orgasm overtakes you before you can stop it.

There’s a momentary stutter in Tim’s movements before me manages to pull out just in time to shoot his load all over your pussy and lower tummy. He doesn’t stay up for long, basically collapsing over you and nuzzling into your jaw.