content. g!p megan x fem!reader smut p in v dirty underwear kink degradation
if you don't like it don't read it :)
a/n: this was for a request but I lost all of them so I can't put it up 😐
You had noticed that your dirty underwear had started disappearing from your laundry basket and reappearing clean in your closet.
At first, you thought it was one of the girls — some kind gesture from someone who wanted to help you with the laundry. But after a few weeks, the pattern became unmistakable: only the underwear.
You had gotten back from an individual training session, noticed your bedroom door was slightly open, and there she was: Megan, sitting on the edge of the bed, naked from the waist down, one hand moving fast, frantic, between her legs. In her other hand, she was holding a pair of your black panties pressed to her nose.
And that's how you got here.
You on top of her. Your knees on either side of her hips, your hands dug into her shoulders. Her cock is inside you. There's no rhythm. Just chaos. Your hips go up and down nonstop, slamming against hers. Every thrust is rough. You don't give her time to breathe.
"I'm sorry," Megan says, the word repeating between her moans, between the sounds of your pelvis hitting hers. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry."
"So dirty," you reply, your voice barely audible over the creaking mattress. "Using my dirty underwear to masturbate. Like a stupid teenager."
"Aren't you ashamed, mei?"
She doesn't answer. But her cock throbs inside you, and her hips push upward, looking for more, even though you already have all of her. Even though she can't take any more.
You're sweaty. Your hair sticks to your forehead. Your thighs are burning. But you don't stop. You can't stop. You see her from above, her eyes glassy, her mouth open, her hands gripping your hips like they're the only thing holding her up.
"Slower," she says suddenly, almost like a plea. "Please, slower."
"Slower?" you repeat, mocking her. Your hips keep slamming against hers, brutal. "The slut who masturbated with my dirty underwear can't handle me?"
She tries to obey. Her fingers squeeze your hips, her nails dig into your skin. Tears begin to form at the corners of her eyes, and her breathing becomes more erratic.
"Slower," she repeats, and this time it's a sob. "Please, Y/n. I won't last."
"I don't want you to last," you reply. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
You grab the underwear from the floor. The same pair Megan had pressed to her face thirty minutes ago. You wrap them around your hand and shove them into her mouth.
Megan doesn't try to stop you. The tears that had been forming at the corners fall down her cheeks. The fabric soaks her tongue. She doesn't dare spit it out. She doesn't dare move her head.
"No," you say, increasing the intensity of your thrusts. "Don't you dare cry now. This is what you wanted. This is what you were after when you stole my underwear."
"Mmph," is all she can say.
"You wanted me to catch you. You wanted me to punish you. Isn't that right?"
She nods. The tears keep falling, but she nods.
"Good," you say. "Now be a good girl and come for me."
You speed up the rhythm. You feel her cock throb inside you, feel her body tense, feel the hands that were on your hips fall to her sides.
The orgasm shakes you both at the same time. She moans against the fabric, and you scream her name against her neck, and the sheets get soaked.
You let your breathing calm down a little, then you take the fabric — now completely soaked — out of Megan's mouth.
You kiss her. With the taste of your own underwear still on her tongue. With her cock still inside you. With the tears mixing on her cheeks.
"Don't steal my underwear again," you say against her lips.
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