Can I Live Here?

SKSKS THIS IS TOO FUNNY

credit to peachadler on twitter!

Too Good To Be True | Steven Grant x F!Reader

| Gif — @raggedy-dxctor |

Word Count — 6k

Summary — Steven Grant has a crush on an event coordinator at the museum who is too pretty. With no place to stay for the night, he invites her to spend the night at his place.

Warnings — Graphic depictions of s*x, mast*rbation, virgin!Steven, sub!Steven, slight dom!reader, female!reader, unprotected s*x, oral (female and male receiving). Let me know if I missed anything!

18+ Only! Minors DNI

A/N — Steven is basically the biggest simp for you in this lmao

With a dazed glossiness within the dark eyes of Steven Grant, he absentmindedly listened to the blurred words falling from your rosy lips. His chin was pressed against the palm of his hand, his elbow propped on the counter as you discussed the timetable of the gala occurring in less than two weeks. Your hand was clutched on the plastic clipboard, intently scribbling your erratic thoughts and circling possible concerns with a black pen. The employees of the museum orbited around you as you assigned everyone to temporary positions. With each name announced, you wrote a small check beside the inscriptions. Truth be told, Steven wasn’t entirely certain what the purpose of the gala was. He remembered you mentioning the theme—Egyptian Moonlight—and his brain mushed together as he heard the softness of your voice. He presumed the purpose was to raise money for another exhibit he overheard Donna stressing over. 

“Steven Grant,” His name danced across your tongue like golden honey and the sound warmed through him. Your soft eyes moved from the clipboard and found his dazzled gaze. He was distracted with the sheen of your hair and didn’t notice you were patiently waiting for a response. You paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow as he didn’t acknowledge the inquisitive glance. Someone beside him nudged him and he snapped from his daydream. He straightened and glanced around him. His tan cheeks flushed as he realized everyone was expecting a response. Returning his frantic gaze to you, he warily smiled. The embarrassment burned through him like a wildfire. Your eyes remained on him for a brief moment, your lips curving into an amused smile. “Steven Grant,” You repeated, “Tour guide.” He blinked and an overwhelming thrill-filled him as the title ‘Tour Guide’ processed through his head.

You continued onward with your presentation and the small smile reserved for him seared through him. Sure, there was a portion of him completely mortified from being caught with a lovestruck expression, but you didn’t scrunch your nose with glaringly obvious aversion. You moved through the swarm of employees and concluded the presentation with an enthusiastic expression. 

The swarm dispersed and their indistinct conversations disappeared. The moonlight from the night sky poured into the panels of windows. He hadn’t known this much time had disappeared during your presentation. Your voice reverberated through the vast museum marble walls as you spoke with some of the museum's official representatives. You were an illustrious event coordinator and he, admittedly, searched your name on his computer months prior when you were planning the grand opening of an exhibit. He scrolled through the online collections of your other exhibitions and festivals. There were a large variety of themes, some were sultry and oozed with sensual darkness and there were some illuminated with bright colors and flashing lights. Regardless of the theme or requirements, you designed venues perfectly. He always stared at the photographs with you in them, smiling brightly standing beside politicians and celebrities with extravagant gowns. Ever since then, you were recruited by the museum repeatedly and each gala was better than the previous one. 

Steven gathered his belongings and his thoughts wandered to meaningless things like if he should purchase Gus another brand of fish food and if he was going to take the bus on time because there was construction happening a few blocks away from his apartment. He was so emersed in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed you emerge from around the corner. A gasp escaped your lips as he collided roughly with you and your collection of messily stacked papers slipped from your grasp and onto the floor, your lukewarm coffee spilling onto your clothes. 

Steven was overridden with remorse as your exhausted expression drooped as you glanced at the dark brown stains seeping through the fabric. Your eyes closed as you exhaled a small and frustrated breath. A string of apologies fell from his mouth as he dropped to the floor, reaching for the scattered papers. You mimicked him and released a feeble curse as your forehead smacked against his. Steven’s cheeks burned as he reached for your forehead before quickly retracting his arm. “Shit, I am so sorry!” His voice was shaky as he muttered another string of incoherent apologies. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you couldn’t refrain from chuckling airily as your hand brushed against the skin beside your hairline. His face loomed across from you, his eyebrows furrowing with concern as his gaze flickered across your kneeling form. He was going to apologize for the twentieth time when you positioned your delicate hand on his that was gathering the papers. “Don’t worry, it’s my fault.” You reassured with an embarrassed smile. He froze when the warmth of your hand shrouded his much larger one. “I wasn’t paying attention.” Much to his dismay, you pulled your hand away and began restacking the papers. He snapped from his daze and began doing the same, occasionally sneaking a glance at the concepts you constructed. Unsurprisingly, they were exceptionally drawn. 

With the color-coordinated papers messily stacked, he pushed himself from the floor and brushed his hands on his thighs before extending his hand outward. His breathing hitched as you peered upward at him through the thick rim of your eyelashes, your eyes glittering from the romantic lighting of the exhibition. Your knees were pressed against the marble floor, his crotch mere inches away from the softness of your lips and his knees nearly buckled at the spectacle. 

You interlaced your fingers with him, groaning as you straightened and wiped the palms of your hands on your sheer leggings. “No, it was my fault! I’m a knob and wasn’t paying attention—” The fusion of your florid fragrance and the syrupy coffee filled his nose as you dismissed his frantic concerns with a wave of your hand. 

You brushed the loose strands of hair away from your face. “Steven, it’s fine.” You pulled your phone from your pocket. “I was pissed because my roommate is having someone over and asked me to give them the night. So I was looking for a hotel around here and didn’t even see where I was going.” Your frustration seeped into your words as you spoke, the weariness oozed from you as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry. I’m ranting, aren’t I?” 

Steven shook his head and clutched the strap of his bag until his knuckles blanched. “No worries, I don’t mind.” His eyebrows scrunched together with uncertainty. “You know my name?” He glanced down at the breast pocket of his jacket, confirming the nametag wasn’t there. He thought you didn’t acknowledge anything other than your clipboard as you strolled through the corridors of the museum, triple-checking everything was adequate for the gala. Steven was one of the several people awe-struck every time you stepped inside the same room as him. 

You chuckled as you shoved the stack of papers inside your large bag. “Of course, I know your name.” You spoke as if the suggestion of you not knowing his name was ridiculous. “You were one of the first people I met when I was recruited by the museum.” 

No, that couldn’t have been accurate. He would’ve remembered the interaction because if there was a time when you spoke with him and him only he would have seared the interaction deep inside his memories. He scratched the nape of his neck. “I’m afraid I don’t remember that.” 

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You said, readjusting your bag’s strap. “You were far too invested in guiding a group throughout the museum. I joined the group and I don’t think I’ve ever learned that much Egyptian mythology from an actual tour guide here.” You continued onward, motioning for him to follow beside you. “You were my first choice to be the banquet’s tour guide.” 

He attempted to disregard how the assertive statement made his stomach flutter. As you both neared the exit of the museum, you muttered some farewells to a few of the staff members. The light breeze of the night chilled you as you descended the large stairs. “Steven, do you know of any decent hotels around the area?” You had briefly searched on your phone, but they were all rated extremely low.

He glanced around the desolate streets. “I know some, but they’re a bit rubbish, honestly.” 

Ask her, Steven. Invite her over.

“You could save some money and spend the night at my place. It’s not too far from here and I won’t charge you.” He suggested apprehensively as he fiddled with the strap of his bag. He glanced around, intentionally avoiding your inquisitive gaze. You raised an eyebrow and chuckled at his awkwardness. “I really hope that wasn’t as creepy as I thought it sounded.” He added after a moment.

He followed you as you continued your stroll. “Most blokes invite me to dinner first.”

His eyes widened with mortification. “N-No, that’s not what I meant!” He hadn’t even noticed your teasing tone and lighthearted expression as he shook his head frantically. This was exactly why he typically ignored Marc's suggestions and ideas. “You would sleep on the bed, of course! I’d take the floor and I would never—“

You squeezed his shoulder and giggled. “Steven, I’m teasing you,” You reassured with a lovely smile. “I’d actually greatly appreciate that. I can drive us to your place?”

He nodded, his cheeks blushing. “Lead the way.”

Steven fumbled for his apartment’s keys as you stood beside him, glancing around the rickety corridor. Muffled voices were seeping from the closed doors of the other tenants, music echoed from the streets below and the hinges of the elevator squeaked the double doors eventually closed. He unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing you a wide entrance inside. The floorboards creaked as you casually walked inside and your doe-eyes eyes glanced at the cluttered mess with subtle allure. He noticed your wandering eyes and scratched the nape of his neck. “If I had known I was going to have company, I would’ve cleaned.” He said nervously. As you continued onward, you glimpsed over the disarray of his disordered books. Most, if not all, were about Egyptian mythology and the pages were folded and the spines were cracked. 

You peered over your shoulder and smiled as he attempted to organize some of the piles of papers and opened books. “No worries, my place isn’t any better.” You admitted, your eyes moving across the passages of the large textbooks. The paragraphs were underlined and highlighted, some were circled and crossed out with a thin line. His erratic movements across the room stopped, his hand carrying a white trash bag as he tossed his takeout from the night before. “My kitchen is covered with color theory and different fabrics for the table covers. It’s much worse than this, believe me.” 

Your lighthearted words reassured him, easing the tenseness of his shoulders as collected the last of his trash. He nodded even though he knew you couldn’t see him as you ventured further inside his apartment. “I can’t make coffee very well, but I can make you some tea?” He was already fumbling through his cabinet of unorganized boxes of tea, some of the packets strewn around. The stovetop clicked and the blue flames flickered as he brought a silver kettle from the washed pile of dishes. 

You closed the book you were scanning and dawdled across the room. “That would be lovely,” The warmth of the flames gradually filled the kitchen. “Steven, do you mind if I borrow some clothes?” The question crashed through him like an icy wave. He whirled around and his nervous eyes glanced at the stained apparel. He didn’t remember you were soaked with chilly coffee, his thoughts were ransacked with the warmth of your skin as you stood beside him within the confines of the unstable elevator. He wasn’t entirely processing that you were standing between the fading walls of his cluttered apartment. This was something he thought of, an unrealistic daydream as he fiddled with a multi-colored Rubix cube at night. But here you were, staring at him with an unsure softness and leaning against his countertop. 

“Of course!” He stumbled as he scampered across and pulled his dresser open, unfolding a freshly washed t-shirt. The fabric was much larger than your frame, but he didn’t think the size difference mattered much. “Can’t have you sleeping in your dirty clothes.” He yanked open another drawer and pulled out a soft pair of loose sweatpants. He closed both drawers and the kettle released a faint whistle. “In that incredibly tight dress.” He muttered to himself. Your dress was tight, a black turtleneck dress where the fabric ended mid-thigh and your sheer pantyhose exposed the smoothness of your legs. “I can make the tea and you can take a shower if you’d like? There are spare towels inside.” 

Blatant relief colored your expression as he mentioned the shower. “I’ll be quick,” You declared and rushed to the opened door across the apartment. The door closed and he closed his eyes as he placed his blanched palms on the edge of the counter. You were inside his bathroom, undressing and allowing the warm water to splash against your bare skin, the fragrance of his soap was going to linger on your skin and within the strands of your wet hair. The hazed image of you scrubbing your breasts and the length of your legs with the suds of his soap were enough to have him struggling to regulate his hitched breathing. His jeans tightened as he continued to think of you touching the peaks of your breasts, your small fingers moving within the tightness between your thighs. 

Come on, Steven. She’s in there. Naked.

Steven closed his eyes tighter as Marc’s voice echoed through his frantic mind. He was convinced Marc appeared from the darkness of his head with the sole purpose to make him keep his composure around you practically impossible. Every time you stepped inside the museum, he emerged from the shadows and highlighted the tightness of your clothes, the way your breasts bounced as you rushed throughout the corridors, and your glittering eyes as you smiled when speaking with the museum officials. You had dropped your pen once and Marc, though Steven would never admit it, he also stared as you leaned forward and grabbed the pen from the floor, your panties peeking from beneath your skirt. Steven couldn’t move from behind the counter for a few minutes as Marc continuously remarked about ripping the thin fabric—

If you’re not gonna make a move, might as well rub one out before she comes out. 

He shuddered as his thoughts brimmed with you and his cock hardened beneath his uncomfortable jeans. He brought his palm onto the throbbing bulge, a small whimper falling from his mouth as he pressed down. There was a pulse of dull pleasure as he rubbed himself over his clothes, drawing his lower lip between his teeth to muffle the threatening sounds. Steven mulled over the suggestion, wondering if you were going to open the bathroom door and see him frantically jerking himself over risque thoughts of you. 

With a wavering breath, he fumbled for his buckle and unzipped himself, pushing the material of his briefs to his thighs. His hand wrapped around himself and there was dreary relief as he slowly pumped himself. You were merely a few feet away from him, a shower curtain and bathroom door preventing you from seeing his leaking cock wrapped by his shaky hand. He brought his palm to his mouth, his tongue gently licking his hand before he continued pulling and tugging. His moans seeped from his opened mouth, gentle breaths, and whiny whimpers as his other hand clenched around the corner of the counter. His hips jerked and he threw his head back, dragging his tongue against his bottom lip. His mind wandered to the image of your fingers sinking inside your tight pussy as the shower’s waterfall drenched your skin. He thought of the sweet moans you would make as he kissed the softness of your breasts, his tongue memorizing your taste as it flicked against your nipple. His rough hands would squeeze your ass tightly after sucking on your fingers, relishing the taste of your pussy as his tongue moved across your soaking fingers. He wanted you clenching around him as you pulled the curls of his hair, his name slipping from your flushed lips as he—

“Steven?”

His eyes snapped open as your voice tore through the thick air. There was a second where he thought of running from the kitchen to the hallway of the complex. He yanked his jeans from his thighs and a horrifying string of apologies escaped him. There was a searing humiliation burning through his veins as he struggled with the zipper. His zipper was stuck, the fabric of his briefs lodged between the metal. He couldn’t believe he allowed Marc to convince him this was something he could do. You were probably disgusted, going to resign his position as a tour guide, and he didn’t even want to think of all the remaining consequences of his actions. 

 He fumbled with his zipper as you slowly drew nearer. You stopped beside him, the warmth of your skin warming him as your eyes glanced at his unsteady hands. You tentatively grabbed his hand from his loosened buckle and his eyes opened, his eyebrows scrunching together with clear confusion. As his eyes fluttered open, he refrained from admiring you wearing his oversized t-shirt, the fabric drooped and flared at your thighs. Your hair was wet and he could already smell his body wash emitting from you. This certainly wasn’t helping his situation.

With large, calloused hand wrapped with yours, you brought his palm to your mouth and he gasped as your tongue moved across his skin. Your eyes closed momentarily as your tongue moved from his palm to the lengths of his fingers, slowly moving them inside the tenderness of your mouth. His eyes followed every assured movement of yours with flared pupils. With his fingers inside, you opened your eyes and sucked the remnants of him and—My God, you moaned. His knees buckled as the small, feminine sound hummed through you. Your eyes were dazed, siren-like as you pulled him from your mouth. “You taste so good,” He was painfully hard as your words processed through his empty mind. You unzipped the small portion he managed to do and he nearly knocked over the glass mugs on the counter as your hand touched his clothed cock. “Can I taste some more?” 

Steven, you better say—

“God, yes.” The words escaped his reddened lips before he could even think of what was happening. Your hand was palming him through his briefs, his fingers were slick with your mouth, and your pretty mouth was looming closer to his. Your gentle lips touched his, brushing against them teasingly as you squeezed him. He released a breathy moan and you closed the distance, relishing the flavor of his lips and his moans. He closed his eyes, unsure of how to move or of where to touch. His hands apprehensively moved to your cheekbones, your face held by his timid grasp. His thoughts were erratic as he eventually moved against you, tasting your lips and hesitantly caressing your tongue. He was kissing you and you were kissing him. He was kissing you, entangling his fingers in your hair as you touched his cock. This was unbelievable. This couldn’t actually be happening. This was too good to be true. 

He almost whined as you pulled away from him. Your forehead rested against his, his nose brushing against yours as your flushed lips curved into a small smile. He almost begged for your mouth to return to his, but when you lowered to your knees, the air left his lungs. Your corrupting gaze remained on him as you pressed small pecks onto his hip bones, then onto his outline. He’d never done this before, he had definitely thought about this more times he could count, but as you stared at him through the rim of your lashes like you were desperate to taste him, he knew he wasn’t going to last very long. You pulled the waistband of his briefs and the cold air nipped at him. Your eyes widened as his cock emerged from his clothes and your collected expression faltered as he twitched achingly. You wrapped your hand around the base of him and his hips jerked at the sudden contact. The heat of your hand was different than his own, entirely different yet exceedingly better. Your tongue erotically licked the tip and he moaned, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the counter. Your eyes gleamed with a hypnotic eagerness and he knew he was done for.

You dragged your tongue from the base to the tip, sucking on the peak to taste the pre-cum seeping from him. You opened your mouth and brought as much of him as you could manage, hollowing your cheeks. The moans he let out were pathetic whines, throwing his head back your mouth moved around him, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He forced himself to stare back down at you, to keep his eyes open to watch the spectacle of his cock disappearing inside your mouth. Tears welled in your eyes as you gagged and he shouldn’t have enjoyed the sound as much as he did. With wavering hands, he wiped the cascading tears from your cheekbones and there was a small portion of him that didn’t like seeing you cry, but the majority and remaining portion of him savored the sight of you on your knees, gagging as the saliva dribbled down your mouth. “Love, I-I’m going to—” Your tongue swirled around his tip and your hand fondled his balls while the other gripped whatever of him couldn’t fit inside your mouth. “I-I don’t want to…Not yet, but—God, that’s so fucking hot.”

His hands tangled your hair as he gently pulled and the feeling erupted a faint moan from you. You pulled away from him and as the crashing waves of pleasure stopped, Steven could finally breathe properly and wasn’t seeing stars. You wiped the sides of your mouth and looked up at him with hungry eyes. “You can come more than once, can’t you?” His eyes widened, breathing shakily as you teasingly licked his cock, still caressing his balls and he wasn’t sure he could even stand anymore. 

“I don’t know,” He admitted, his eyes fluttering closed as you sucked the tip of him again. This was torture, agonizingly lustful torture he would give anything to experience again. “I haven’t done this…with anyone before.” He almost didn’t want to say the bashful words. He was worried you were going to view him differently, but you kissed the base of him and smiled reassuringly. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Your voice was low, silk-like as you dragged your fingernails across his thighs. He shuddered and wanted nothing more than to hear you gag on him again. “Looks like I’m not stopping until you cum again.” Your eyes were determined, ravenous for him and he nearly came at the sight of the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen famished for him. His cock vanished inside your mouth and Steven moaned, high-pitched and completely wretched. 

Holy shit, she can’t be real. She’s some kind of sex demon or—Oh, fuck!

Steven groaned as he came inside your mouth, his cum filling your mouth and he couldn’t even think of feeling embarrassed at the pathetic sounds leaving his mouth. His body shook and twitched, he lost control of himself and tugged on your hair, his eyes closing tightly he jerked his hips against your mouth again and again. He was fucking your mouth, relishing the sound of your gags, and couldn’t even feel guilty. “Shit, shit, shit.” He moaned the words over and over again in breathless whispers and your name was mixed in between.

As his movements slowed, you pulled away from him and wiped the corners of your mouth, sucking whatever dripped from your mouth. His chest was heaving, sweat lining his hairline as you stood from the floor. Your lips were swollen, flushed, and wet and he could’ve came again with how you were staring at him. This wasn’t real, you couldn’t have just swallowed his cum and seemed eager to do it again. Marc was right, you were unreal. “Are you going to be a good boy and fuck me, Steven?” He wasn’t aware a simple sentence could physically devastate someone, but those words and the filthy nickname had him crumbling. 

Steven was speechless as you grabbed his loose hand and pulled him away from the kitchen. He didn’t protest or resist, merely obliged as you dragged him to his unmade bed. With a slight nudge, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched you with wide eyes. Across from him, you removed the t-shirt slowly. Your slow movements were dreadful, and when your bare breasts were mere inches away from his watering mouth, his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. His hands reached outward, desperate to squeeze and pinch, but he drew back. “P-please, can I touch you?” His hardened cock twitched as his eyes traveled over your naked body. 

Touch her, Steven. She’s waiting for you. 

You loomed closer, running your fingers through the mess of curls. He leaned into your touch. “You can touch me wherever.” He nodded eagerly and his hands reached for your breasts, squeezing the mounds and a boyish smile rose on his lips. Tentatively, he softly pinched your nipples and froze when you gasped, fearing he had hurt you somehow. However, when he looked up at you, your expression was plastered with unfiltered bliss. His hands cautiously caressed your stomach, your hips, then your thighs. He was memorizing the way you felt, he didn’t want to forget the texture of your skin when you inevitably departed from his room tomorrow morning. His fingers stopped above your pussy and his eyes glittered with elation. He glanced upward at you again, silently asking for permission with an innocent gaze. You nodded frantically. 

His finger moved across the bottom of your pussy and his eyes widened as your slickness covered his fingertip. He examined the evidence of your dripping arousal before bringing his finger to his mouth. He licked it, then sucked, whimpering softly as your taste filled his mouth. He reluctantly pulled his digit from his lips and mimicked his earlier action. His finger dipped inside you and the obscene moan seeping from your mouth was nearly pornographic. His movements started as gradual as he experimented with the way you tightened. He pumped faster, exploring what movements of his made you moan louder and your body twitch. He inserted another finger and the sounds you were making were enough to have him desperate for some relief. “You are quite possibly the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.” He muttered, his breath tickling your skin. 

Steven retracted his hand from you and you whined at the loss. He dragged his hand across your slit, your juices pooling on his palm. With his other hand, he moved your leg over his shoulder and you gripped his arm to steady yourself. The sudden movement shocked you, it was unlike him to make such a bold move, but you weren’t going to complain. His mouth devoured your pussy and with one hand coated with your juices, he jerked himself with your arousal and his other empty hand pinched and played with your nipple. Steven didn’t really know what he was doing but he had watched enough videos to have an understanding of it, and the way you tugged on his hair and moaned his name, he thought he was doing a decent job. 

You glanced down at him touching his cock with your juices, his hand moving quickly and the slickness made indecent sounds. God, he was jerking off with your arousal and devouring you like he was a starving man. He needed your clit on his tongue, he needed your cum filling his mouth, he needed you to unravel because of him.

His hand moved across your stomach, his calloused hands caressing your hip before he inserted two of his fingers inside your pussy. A strangled gasp escaped you as he pumped his fingers while flicking his tongue across your clit, gently sucking as you throbbed on his fingers. You tightened your grasp on his messy hair as he curled his digits. Your breaths fastened as the overwhelming pleasure intensified. “Steven, I’m going to cum,” Your voice was breathless, barely above a whisper as he continued to consume you. “Fuck, don’t stop. Just like that, just like that.” Thankfully, he listened to your pleas and his movements and pace didn’t falter. 

His confidence soared as you moaned his name like desperate prayers, nearly begging with dwelling tears as your body moved against him. You tasted like the forbidden fruit, dangerously intoxicating and he would have fallen to his knees every night and begged whoever answered prayers to taste you again. You clenched around his fingers and his name was the only thought filling your mind as you unraveled around him. He was relentless as he proceeded to flick against your clit. You weakly pushed him away and when he didn’t stop, you pushed him slightly harder. He reluctantly pulled away and his doe-eyes peered heavenward, a shy smile rose. “You make the prettiest sounds.” His voice was hoarse and his lips were blushing pink, covered with your cum as he licked them.

With a hazy smile, you removed your thigh from his shoulder and his hand movement slowed to a complete stop. You tugged on the hem of his shirt, discarding the fabric aside as he kicked away his jeans and briefs. Your dazed eyes traveled over him, the flexing muscles of his arms and abs. He was handsome, something written from a romance novel, and yet here he was, looking away from your intense gaze and cowering away. You lightly gripped his chin and forced him to look at you. “You are beautiful,” The words were laced with blatant adoration and his expression brightened, his dark eyes gleaming with bliss. He didn’t want to admit how much that affected him; hearing the woman he liked tell him he was beautiful. “You hear me, Steven Grant? You are handsome and you are more than enough.” He nodded and there was a sheen gleaming in his gaze. He almost cried at the reassurance and you lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “I need you to say it. Use your words.”

“I am more than enough.” His voice was air-like, desperate for your approval. The words were foreign, tasted strange against his tongue, but the surge of self-assurance was internally welcomed by him   

You smiled and caressed his cheek with your thumb. “Good boy,” You whispered and he would have bruised his knees falling to the floor to hear you call him that again. You leaned toward him, nibbling on his earlobe. You smirked as he exhaled shakily. “Do you want to fuck me, Steven Grant?” He eagerly nodded, grasping onto your hips as you kissed his neck, licking the small marks coloring his tan skin. “Get on the bed.”

He almost stumbled over his own feet as he hurried to the softness of his bed, swallowing the lump lodged within his throat as you crawled toward him—a ravenous predator stalking her helpless prey. Such a beautiful sight. 

You touched him and goosebumps scattered across him. Your mouth stopped inches away from his cock and he could feel the warmth of your breath caress his member. “Tell me, Steven. Do you think about me often when you touch yourself?” He couldn’t even answer your question as you spit onto his cock and moved forward, placing your thighs on both sides of his hips. His tip brushed against the slit of your pussy and his body jolted. Your face looked inches away from his and the look in your eyes said a million words. You were waiting for approval, waiting for him to give you a confirmation. He whispered a weak ‘please’ and you obliged, lowering yourself onto him. 

His head crashed against his bed frame as he blissfully stretched you. You clenched around him, gorgeously warm and tight and the moans escaping his rosy lips filled the thick air. But you didn’t move and he opened his eyes inquisitively. “I asked you a question,” You said firmly and you didn’t need to finish the sentence for him to know you weren’t moving until he answered. 

“Almost every night since I’ve met you,” He answered timidly. He couldn’t even concentrate on his thoughts as you grinded on him. He watched the way your body flowed against him, your feminine moans beautifully filling his ears. “I can’t help myself. Look at you,” You rode him as he kissed your exposed neck, grabbing your breasts with both hands. He thought of you constantly whenever he tightened his hand around his cock. He came with your name on his tongue in the shower, when he couldn't sleep, and there was one time at work in a supply closet when you smiled at him while wearing a low-cut blouse. “You’re bloody gorgeous and you wear those tight, short skirts and—Fuck, just like that. Ride me just like that. Yes, yes, yes.” 

His voice was rough, his breaths shattering as you and your breasts bounced right in front of his face. “Tell me I’m your good boy, p-please, baby.” This was pathetic, he knew, but the praise was an addiction he didn’t know he had until it fell from your cum-soaked lips. He licked your nipples, sucking like you were the answer to his starvation. He was so needy, desperate for you. 

You encircled your small hand around his neck and he groaned. “Beg for it.” Was all you moaned as you sprung on him. The sound of your skin slapping against his and the wetness dripping from your pussy was fucking filthy and he was never going to forget it. This was permanently seared into his mind. 

His hand gripped your hair. “Please, please, baby.  I promise I’ll be good and—shit, you feel so good.” His bed creaked and he was certain his neighbors were going to complain tomorrow, but he didn’t care. “Tell me I’m your good boy, please. P-please, don’t stop.”

Your thighs burned but the pleasure was mind-blowing as his cock filled you, and you were certain there were going to be finger-shaped bruises on your hips and ass. “Fuck, you’re my good boy,” You whined, “You’re doing such a good job, baby. Fucking me so good, Steven.” 

His movements grew sloppy and fastened, he was roughly pounding into you and each thrust tore the breath from your lungs. “Y-yes, say my name. Say my name, baby. Say it.” He growled through clenched teeth and you couldn’t even see through the stars he was giving you. You mumbled his name loosely and you sounded drunk as you blindly repeated his name. “Can I cum? Please let me cum, please let me cum.”

Steven was begging to cum and you wordlessly nodded, already nearing your own release. “Open your mouth.” He didn’t hesitate and you dragged your fingers across his tongue, using his saliva to rub your clit. “You’re gonna make me cum—“ 

Steven moaned as he guided your hips and he filled your tight pussy with his cum. He thought coming in your mouth was the best feeling he’d experienced, but this was otherwordly.  He couldn’t think and the pleasure didn’t stop as you came seconds after. You tightened around him and basically milked his cock until he was certain you were trying to ruin him. 

He savored the sensation of him filling you with his cum, the way your body twitched and your chest heaved as you reveled in your glowing high.

Composing yourselves, you pushed your hair away and kissed him as you pulled him out of you. He groaned into the kiss and you smiled as he sighed happily. He was utterly content and nothing could ruin his mood as you laid beside him, wrapping your leg over his and pressed your head against his chest. He glanced down at you and you looked ethereal as you breathed peacefully against his chest, your eyes closed with a faint smile. He leaned and kissed your forehead. “I don’t suppose I can take you out on a proper date now?” 

You laughed and opened your relaxed eyes. “Thought you’d never ask.” You dragged your finger across his skin in random patterns. He almost pinched himself, somewhat convinced this hadn’t been real. You looked so pretty with the moonlight pouring into his room. 

“Work is going to be a lot more fun now.”

Like for long hair

Reblog for short hair

Loud and clear- Rick Flag

Fandom: DC, suicide squad

Pairing: Rick Flag X F!Reader

Summary: after almost getting killed, you and Rick need to hold each other again

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, choking kink, praising kink, lots of dirty talk, Rick being pretty dom, cursing, like lots of it. Overall read at your risk

WC: 5.4k i really just hate myself for this

A/N: I'm really just in love with this man huh? 2 rick fics in less than a week? That's a lot coming from me. But yeah, I just couldn't get scenario out of my head after I wrote Bloodbath, so its kind of a continuation of that fic, but can be read independently since it only briefly mentions reader get shot. I'll link it here just in case. So yeah, hopefully youre enjoying this spam of rick flag content.

Bloodbath

“Uh… the hell are you doin'?” Rick’s voice caught your attention, making you take your attention away from your current task, which was staring very intently at the soldier, more specifically at his arms and chest through that ridiculously tight yellow shirt.

“Huh?” You hummed, barely lifting your eyes away from his tattooed arms, the same ones that were just threatening to rip right through the fabric of that stupid shirt. I mean seriously, who got him that shirt? You got front row seats to the sight too, since you had been shot and not properly cured, your wounds started bleeding and of course, Rick had to force you to sit down and let him cure and clean your wounds. So there you were, sitting in a shitty makeshift chair somewhere in that resistance camp, and Rick sitting right in front of you, really damn close.

‘You’re just starin' at me like you’re plotting to kill me in my sleep. So what is it?” He asked straight up, momentarily lifting his gaze from the gauze he was putting on your collarbone to meet your eyes and he didn’t know if he should be worried by the look in your eyes. You couldn’t help but smirk slightly, biting your lip and you shook your head.

"Nah, that's not it. It's just that damn shirt." You clicked your tongue, biting your lip as you shifted on your seat and narrowed your eyes at the shirt, like there was something wrong with it. Rick scrunched up his face, furrowing his eyebrows and opened his mouth to question you, but you continued, “like damn, that resistance girl really couldn’t have given you a tighter shirt, huh? That shit doesn’t even look like it’s your size.” You drifted your attention to the muscles in his chest and broad shoulders, where the fabric was tightest, even going as far as tilting your head to get a better look at it. You heard Rick sigh dryly, and you knew he was rolling his eyes at you.

“Seriously, what the hell are you on about?” He sighed, watching you get all up in his chest and start to poke and tug at the shirt, as if you were trying to see if it’d stick right back to him, which it did. “Y/N—”

“I gotta give it to her, if I was a girl from this island and I saw this big and tall, blonde soldier with broad shoulders and a pretty face, I’d probably wanna put him in a tight shirt too.” You said mindlessly, your mouth speaking the random and racing thoughts that went through your head as you casually started to lift his shirt until the fabric got stuck under his arms. He actually reacted this time, visibly flinching and shifting, eyes wide.

“Hey, Y/N, stop it already. What the fuck are you doin'?” His tone was sharper this time, his voice slightly rising as he frantically looked around for anyone that might be around. His hands wrapped around your wrist, as a warning to stop before he made you stop.

“Nothing, I’m just trying to see something.” You said innocently, biting your lip as you ran your hands over his stomach and abs, feeling him shudder under your fingers.

Even though he had a tight grip on your wrists, he didn’t actually stop you, he just stared at you and exhaled sharply. When he didn’t actually say anything about it, you rested both hands on his chest to brace yourself as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck. You weren’t really sure why, but suddenly you really needed him, you needed to feel him, hold him, touch him everywhere you could. And you needed him to do the same. You didn’t care if that meant he had to fuck you up against a tree, or on the fucking ground, right in the middle of this damn jungle, you just wanted him. The thought of losing the other always made you like this, it made you restless, desperate and needy. God bless the soul of anyone that had to be around you and Rick after a risky, low chance of survival mission. And after what happened at the beach, you knew he felt that way too, and that’s exactly why he hasn’t stopped you yet.

Sex after a mission was like your way of saying 'I'm right here, can you feel me? I'm not going anywhere'

“You’re tryin' to see what? How fast I lose my patience and fuck the lights out of you?” He spoke hoarsely through gritted teeth, slightly tilting his head back in an attempt to keep his composure. But when you quietly moaned at his words, he fucking lost it. The hand that was clasped around your wrist quickly grabbed a hold of the back of your hair, pulling your head back enough to look at him. And the damn near dark look in his hazel eyes and his hard expression as he held your hair left your jaw hanging open.

“Wow, look at that Colonel, you’re pretty and smart. Makes me wonder what’s taking you so long.” You pushed, knowing the more you retorted and talked back, the quicker he’d lose his shit. Because fuck, the way he was just staring at you, jaw tight and eyes narrowed with that dark look, it was just making the ache between your legs stronger.

“Sweetheart, don’t fucking play with me right now.” He exhaled heavily, his voice dropping so low and getting so rough it made you slightly rub your thighs together. You bit your lip and shook your head, silently moving from your seat on to his lap, you instantly felt the hard line of his cock straining against his pants press right against the ache between your legs.

“I’m not. Fuck, I’m not playing with you. I thought I lost you and I just— Fuck Rick, I just need you so much right now. I need to feel you’re here with me, please.” You said so desperately it almost sounded like a whine coming out of your mouth.

You didn't even give him a second to speak, you crashed your lips against his, gripping his short hair as you kissed him with a fervour he of course, matched perfectly. You moaned against his mouth when you felt one of his hands sneak behind you, squeezing your ass under his fingers and his other hand came to grip your jaw in a possessive manner. That sound only riled him up more, because the mere sound of you made him pull you in more, kissing you in a damn near pornographic way as he held you jaw in place, his fingers being enough to damn near close up around your throat. No matter the situation, where, why or who actually initiated the encounter, he always ended up taking charge and manhandling you like you wouldn’t allow anyone else to do. Because fuck, who wouldn’t want this man to throw them around like a fucking ragdoll?

“Oh trust me baby, I need you too. Like so fucking bad. I wanted nothing but to grab you and bend you over somewhere when I saw you again. I thought I lost you and—” Rick took a deep breath, his fingers brushing right under your pulse as he looked up at you, a wild look in his eyes, much like your own. “I just want to fuck you ‘till you feel me for fucking days. But I don't— eh.. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes falling on the bandages on your shoulder and collarbone, right when he had just cured your wounds.

How was it that this man, the man that had you soaking through your pants with some kisses and some grabbing, could also be the sweetest and most caring guy you’ve ever met? He was so painfully hard under you, you could feel it every time you shifted, he was tense and stiff as fuck like it was fucking painful so sit there, with you on his lap. And yet, he’d rather stay that way just so he wouldn’t hurt you any more.

Fuck this man was going to be the fucking death of you.

“Rick I don’t fucking care. Hurt me, make me fucking scream, I don’t care. Like please fucking do. I just want you to fuck me ‘til I cry, please.”

You were sure that man actually rolled his eyes back and a sharp breath left his mouth like something had just fucking snapped in his head. You felt him shudder and his cock actually twitched under you, and when he opened his eyes again, his mouth was on you before you could even breathe. He kissed you so hard it actually took your breath away, but you happily matched his intensity. You gasped when you suddenly felt him stand up, with you wrapped around his waist and large hands squeezing your ass as he held you. You had no idea where he was going, you guessed he was just getting away from everybody because he didn’t stop until you were merely surrounded by trees and the lighting from the camp was faintly illuminating from afar.

“I’d hate for any of these dumbasses to walk in on this, because there’s no fucking way I’m stoppin' until you’re coming around my cock.” He rumbled against your mouth, his lips moving down to your neck, sucking and kissing the tender skin there, not satisfied until he knew he left a pretty good mark to admire the next morning. To say that you were absolute puddy in his hands was a fucking understament. You were aching for him, so much that the little friction that you got from brushing against his front was enough to make you whine.

“Fuck,” you slurred, a shiver slightly prickling your skin when you felt your bare back hit a tree. And with you back being pressed against it, Rick could easily press himself against you, chest against chest, and fuck if only he’d stop brushing the hard on behind his pants against your center, it was driving you insane.

“I swear to God Y/N if you ever do that to me again.” He grabbed your jaw again, drawing you into yet another desperate and frenzied kiss. It was different, earlier it was you that was being desperate, needing to feel him, but this time when he kissed you, you felt that same exact desperation, need, hunger, hell even anger, you felt it all in one. It was like the realization that you could’ve died had just hit him, and he didn’t know what to do with that. “For as long as I am your commander you are not leaving my damn sight. Ever. You understand?” He used his Colonel voice on you, pulling away from your mouth to look dead at you, as if he needed to emphasize his words with the hard look in his eyes.

“Yeah.” you breathed out, already breathless and disheveled. “Loud and clear, Colonel.”

“Good girl.” He praised you in a way that made you pool in your underwear even more. Fuck did you love that.

Rick tapped the side of your thigh, signaling you to let go and without a word he set you down on your feet, quickly working with the zipper and belt of you pants, fumbling with them for a second before popping them open. He slid his hand inside, slipping right into your underwear until his hand was cupping the pool between your legs. Your mouth hung wide open and your eyes rolled into the back of your head when you felt one of Rick’s long and thick fingers slip through your folds, gathering the wetness there only to spread it over your clit.

“Damn, you’re dripping all over my fingers and I’ve barely touched you. You got all wet from a little kissin' and a bit of dirty talkin'?” He chuckled smugly, his words coming out low and dirty as watched the way your face contorted when he slipped a single one of his thick fingers into you. He almost growled when he felt your walls tighten around the digit, he could only imagine how it would feel when you were wrapped around his cock instead.

“Fuck baby, look how you’re already so tight. You’re gonna take me so well aren’t you? You’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock, hm?” He drawled, leaning down to speak his sinful and filthy words right into your ear in a way that just made your knees fucking weak.

You couldn’t get yourself to breathe right, let alone speak. You choked out, nothing but a pitiful moan leaving your lips in response as another wave of wetness pooled out of you, seeping right into his hand. And he fucking laughed, so proud of the reaction he knew his mere words got out of you.

“You like it when I call you a good girl? Because you’re my good little girl, aren’t you?” He continued whispering smugly into your ear, knowing it was making you tremble right under his fingers. You merely nodded feverishly at his words because right then, he slipped another finger in and began scissoring them. His wrist snapping each time he thrusted his fingers into you despite the restraint of your pants. You were nearly seeing fucking stars then.

“You know I’m the Colonel’s good girl.” You barely moaned out, eyes rolling so far back into your head that he probably only saw white when you felt his thick digits brush against your most sensitive spot, starting the recoil in the pit of your stomach. So close. So fucking close, if only he—

“Fuck yeah you are.” He chuckled smugly, pride taking over his features when he saw the utter look of ecstasy in your face, only to take it away merely seconds before you could see stars.

The look on your face was fucking priceless too. You felt your whole soul leave your body when his fingers suddenly left you, leaving you empty and chasing for a high that never came. You were breathless and wide eyed, staring at Rick like you were going to rip his spine out. He had to press a long kiss to your pouty lips because he knew you’d slap the smug smirk off his face if he didn’t.

“Don’t hit me.” He laughed against your lips, his smug but cheeky smile almost made you want to forgive him. Almost.

“The hell was that for? Fucking asshole, you can’t leave a girl hanging like that.” You scoffed loudly, raising your open palm but he dropped to his knees in front of you before you could actually do anything. Oh.

"Who said I was going to leave you like that?" He smirked like he had a devilish plan in mind. And he did, because in a matter of seconds he was pulling your pants and underwear clean off your legs, leaving you pretty much bare. "If you were absolutely dripping with my fingers, I fucking need you to drip on my tongue like that."

And suddenly you were no longer angry. Anger? The hell was that? All you knew was being a fucking shaking mess for Rick Flag.

“Rick wait—” you shuddered when you felt him fan his warm breath right against your clit, making your knees slightly buck under your weight.

“Hm?” He hummed as he looked up at you, casually grabbing your ankle and throwing your leg over his shoulder. Fuck that sight of him, on his knees, with his head between your legs and hazel eyes turned brown staring up at you. It made you so weak you could barely get your words out.

“Rick uhm, maybe you shouldn’t uh, y’know, here, the others and uhm-”

“You’re getting shy on me, Y/N? You’re scared these idiots might see me with my head buried between your legs? Or hear you moan for me? Is that it?” He asked almost mockingly, making fun of how you were suddenly shy, when you’ve probably fucked just about everywhere possible. Public or otherwise. “You know I won’t do anything you don’t want. I’ll stop if that’s what you want, baby.”

Was it really?

Was the sudden feeling of shame and shyness from being out in the jungle and the squad of misfits being within earshot enough to make you want to throw away the sight of the Colonel with his head between your legs? When you could be dead tomorrow and this could be the last time you felt this man take you as he pleased?

Fuck no. Fuck shame, fuck shyness. This man was worth it.

“Fuck no. Do whatever the hell you want. I really need you.” The way this man actually bit his lip when he looked down and caught the sight of your dripping cunt had to be fucking illegal. LIke no man should ever look that hot. The sight alone made you want to scream.

But you’d be screaming soon enough. Before your mind could register anything, Rick was diving forward, his mouth closing over your heat as he licked a long stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. The tip of his tongue circled expertly around the bundle of nerves before his lips closed around it, sucking hard. The cry that he incited from you echoed throughout the trees, anyone within 20 feet of you probably heard it, but you did not fucking care. Your hand instantly flew to his short hair, gripping at whatever you could get hold of as he worked with his tongue. He alternated between long licks, smooth kitty licks and sucking on your clit, anything to drive you wild. Though as if you weren’t already. You had no idea how you were even holding yourself up because your legs were shaking so much. Your sense of reality had long abandoned you, hell, you couldn’t even think about anything other than his tongue and how good he was making you feel.

“Fuck— God fuck Rick.” You choked out a moan, not even being able to get the sound out. You knew it wouldn’t take long before you were seeing stars again, I mean, you knew Rick wouldn’t stop until you did. That was his mission, and Rick Flag always accomplished his mission. He just wasn’t holding back, he worked with his mouth like a starved man, lapping up your juices as he continued to flick his tongue.

For a moment his thumb came to replace his tongue, spreading the wetness around your clit with quick and sharp circles. He used that moment to catch a glimpse of you, and he swore he felt his cock twitch at the sight of you, jaw hanging open, eyes screwed shut, legs shaking, knowing you were so close.

“Did I ever tell you just how fucking pretty you look from down here? And you look even prettier when you come for me. You gonna do that baby? You gonna be a good girl and come for me?” Goddamn his words were so filthy, his voice was so low and raspy you wanted to come right there and there. Hell, you were going to, your whole body was on fire, you were hot and sweaty, you were a shaking mess as you tried to chase your high. You couldn’t really respond verbally anymore, you didn’t even remember what words were. So you simply nodded desperately, tugging at the longer strands of hair, not so subtly telling him to get his mouth on you. With a low laugh he did.

Before you knew it, Rick was diving in again, gripping the thigh over his shoulder, fingers digging deep into the skin as his mouth closed around your clit and his expert tongue flicked eight figures around the sensitive bud. You were so close you were even bucking your hips, trying to get as much friction as you could. Rick chuckled when you did, sending short vibrations right against you. Just a bit more.

You completely lost it when he started shaking his head from side to side, hot tongue flicking non-stop, and that’s when you really saw stars. Your vision became blurry, your jaw dropped, a loud cry of his name escaping your throat as your whole body trembled under his fingers. He had to hold you then because when your body stopped spasming against the tree, the leg you were standing on slightly gave up and your knees buckled.

“That’s it. Good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me.” Rick praised as he pulled away from you wet center, pressing small kisses to your inner thigh until you came down from your high, breathing short and heavy. When you opened your eyes, you looked down, and you were met with the filthiest sight ever. The wetness from you was smeared all over his chin and mouth when he pulled away, and you caught him wiping the glistening slick with the back of his hand before his eyes caught yours, and that filthy and mischievous look in them was always so rare to see. He’d save that side of himself for when he was with you. Thank fucking God for that.

“Looking as hot as you do should be fucking ilegal.” You muttered as you watched him stand up to his full height, all 6’2 of him. Damn, he looked even taller when you were slouched against a tree like that. He caught your comment, and he laughed, slightly licking what remained of you on his lips, damn near feeling proud of himself.

“Yeah, I can say the same. That sight from down there? Fucking criminal, no wonder you're on my team.” He caught your mouth again, you could taste yourself in his tongue, but you didn’t care, you kinda liked it actually. As his mouth worked against yours, you took that time to fumble with his belt, you were still shaking but you managed to unbuckle it, the zipper quickly following, undoing it enough so that you could tug them off his hips. When you did, only leaving his boxers in the way, you pulled back, finally tugging that ridiculous shirt off his body.

“Literally fuck that shirt.” You groaned softly, leaving lingering kisses across his chest as you sneaked your hand down and palmed him through his boxers. And he was hard as hell. You had no idea how he managed to get you through an orgasm and not lose his shit in the process. Well, you figured he would now. Because the second he felt your hand, his cock twitched under your touch and a guttural groan rumbled in his chest.

“Don’t fucking play with me.” He growled, his tone suddenly dropping as he grabbed your wrists, the way his whole demeanor suddenly change making you shudder, “baby I swear to god if I don’t fuck you right now I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.” The urgency in his low, raspy voice was enough to make you nod quickly, not another word leaving your mouth. Well, aside from the gasp that left your lips when he turned you around and pressed your front right up against the tree, your only embrace being your own hands.

Before you knew it, you felt him press his bare chest flush against your back, a hand on your hip, while the other rested just above your uninjured shoulder blade, and you knew you had to brace yourself. Damn right you did, because without a warning or even a heads up, he slid right into you, your walls instantly tightening around his thick length. Your eyes instantly rolled into the back of your head, mouth hanging open as a broken cry left your lips, feeling him bury himself to the hilt, not giving you time to adjust or anything. Not that you needed to, you were used to his size, still it always took you a minute to get used to. He always knew you needed a couple of seconds to adjust, so he stilled inside you, chest pressed against your back as he buried his face into your shoulder blades, lips dragging along your skin.

After a second or two, you nodded, reaching behind you to tap his shoulder, signaling he could start moving. You didn’t even have to say it, because right then, he pulled himself almost all the way out, making you feel empty for just a moment, but it was only a second because he quickly snapped his hips, nearly making you scream when he bottomed himself out. He gave you a moan of his own, a low, deep one, right into your ear when he felt your walls clenched around him again.

“Goddamn,” he cursed through gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut as he found a pace, hips snapping with every one of his thrusts, “you’re so fucking tight. Fuck.” He let the words out in a low groan, voice raspy in a way that probably made you squeeze him harder.

Eventually Rick found a rhythm, a quick pace where each thrust dragged along your walls, bottomed him out and started it all over, over and over again. His jaw was hanging wide open, eyes opening and closing as he pounded into you forcefully, each time he had to hold you tighter so your body wouldn’t scratch up against the tree and potentially hurt you. He was doing most of the work. You? Well, you were trying to focus on bracing yourself against the tree without falling face first into it from the forcefulness of Rick’s thrusts. But it was really hard to focus on keeping yourself upright when Rick’s cock brushed perfectly against your most sensitive spot each time he buried himself to the hilt.

You did your best to meet his thrust, pushing back against him, your back was arched against his chest and the sound of slapping skin filled your ears in a way that was almost intoxicating. It left you squirming, shaking so much as the feeling of it all overwhelmed your senses, it was just so much, and it felt so good you knew you wouldn’t last long, especially not with the way Rick’s thrusts only got more precise and rougher. You couldn’t even keep up with him when he picked up speed, so then you were just along for the ride.

“Fuck,” you choked, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut, “fuck Rick, don’t stop. God, please, please, Rick, don’t fucking stop.” You basically begged, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach again. You had no idea what that man saw, or heard, or what went through his head then, but he let out the most erotic and guttural moan you have ever heard as he slipped the hand from your shoulder to your neck, long fingers closing around your throat and he fucking squeezed, knocking the air out of you. You opened your eyes in shock, only to let them roll into the back of your head, choked out cry barely leaving your throat. You must’ve squeezed him hard because his jaw completely dropped and his own eyes rolled back, a damn near pornografic moan coming out his mouth.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it huh? Is that what my good girl likes, hm?” He did it again, his fingers tightened around your throat, damn near leaving you without air, and fuck did you like it. The way he could absolutely manhandle you and cause you pain mixed with the way he pounded into you like you were just a ragdoll, that really threw you over the edge.

You wished you would have warned the poor guy, but the minute he squeezed your throat again you lost it, you came hard, a choked out version of his name leaving you lips over and over until your throat closed up and you were nothing but a shaking, shuddering mess. You were absolutely fucked out, breathless, you body nearly gave out then, but a muscular arm wrapped itself around your middle and pressed your back flush against his chest as he held you down on him, the feeling of you clenching so tight around him triggering his own release and he went rigid, stilling inside you as he spilled himself into you. You felt him shudder against you, a low and damn near erotic moan of your name fell on your ear like a broken record as he came.

You were both so breathless, your sweat slick skin sticking to each other as you both took a couple of seconds to come down from your highs, the pleasure of it always being so much you could barely function properly after. You didn’t know about Rick, but you were absolutely spent, fucked out and exhausted. He probably was too. After all, you’ve gotten shot, tortured, thrown around and now fucked, you didn’t know how either of you were still standing. But hey, at least you were both together, in each other’s arms for another night, because tomorrow? Who knows.

Though as much as you loved being held by the pair of muscular tattooed arms, you figured you had to pull away from each other eventually, to clean up at least. So after trying to get his breathing back to normal, Rick unwrapped himself from you before pulling out you, a sharp whimper leaving your mouth when he did so. You had to embrace yourself against the tree as you turned around, because you could not trust your legs to keep you up.

“You look like someone just fucked the lights out of you.” Rick laughed lowly, proudly eyeing the mess he made of you. I mean, your face was flushed and slick with sweat, hair completely disheveled and messy, then there was your neck, man your neck. He had to linger on those, there was a very visible print of five fingers around your throat, his fingers, he did that. He was honestly kinda proud. “That looks good on you, by the way.”

You brushed your fingers over your neck, slightly wincing when you touched the tender skin, you couldn’t help but shoot the soldier a glare, knowing those fingerprints would not go away anytime soon. You flipped him off before you grabbed your pants and underwear from the ground, not bothering to clean your mess yet, you’d do that when you weren’t bare assed in the middle of the jungle. You quickly pulled them up your legs, Rick did the same. But when you looked up he was still shirtless, looking for that damn shirt. Shame, you would love it if he just stayed like that.

“So here I was, trying to be a gentleman and not hurt you, and you wanted me to choke you. Good to know.” He notted to himself. When you turned around after finding his shirt on the ground, you saw the huge smug smirk on his face, he looked so proud too. You couldn’t help but blush in plain embarrassment that he’d call you out like that.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t you dare say that out loud ever again.” You huffed, throwing the shirt right at his face. He caught it, but he bursted out into laughter. And loud, like he found it really fucking hilarious. But you sure as hell didn’t.

“I’m serious Rick, if you ever tell anyone I’m gonna shove shards of glass in your ears while you sleep.” You threatened, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to sound as intimidating as possible, but this man literally fucked the shit out of you mere minutes ago, you were not intimidating him.

“Yeah, alright sweetheart ” He laughed, shaking his head at you dismissively as he got the shirt over his head. Your eyes instantly landed on his tattooed arms for a second while you could still see them, that always being a part of him you always found yourself admiring. And of course, he caught you staring. “C’mere.”

You pouted and sighed heavily, rolling your eyes but did as he said anyway, hugging his middle and resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him. He wrapped an arm around you as leaned down, pressing a long loving kiss to your forehead before he spoke.

“I hope you know I meant it when I said you’re never leaving my side again. I can’t lose you, I don’t want to. I want to be able to hold you in my arms like this as long as I’m alive, and I can’t take any chances of some sons of bitches taking you away from me. And if that means I have to find a way to get you off this fucking task force, I will. Is that clear?” You knew he was being serious, he was using his Colonel voice, his eyes were hard, but at the same time they had this fond look in the, like he was looking at the most important things in the world to him. More important than serving his country, more important than any threat your squad was sent to take care of, you were more important than any of that. And if keeping safe meant standing to Amanda Waller, Rick would do it in a heartbeat. And you knew that

“Loud and clear, Colonel.”

jjk boys with a crush on you

pairings: yuuji, megumi, toge, satoru & sukuna x gn!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

itadori yuuji

an absolute mess. this boy cannot contain himself around you. he probably thinks he’s being slick, but with the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, it’s no surprise that everyone knows about his little crush. including you. how could you possibly miss it when he’s always flashing you his overexcited grins and sputtering a greeting that’s either way too loud or not at all audible to the human ear.

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Books I’m Reading Right Now:

Made You Up - Francesca Zappia

Eleanor & Park - Rainbow Rowell

Ready Player One - Ernest Cline

Looking for Alaska - John Green

Dean’s beard, reblog if you agree

A long night // Moon knight ☾

Relationships: Steven grant x f!reader / marc spector x f!reader / jake lockley x f!reader

Summary: It wasn’t often that you saw all three of them in one night. (I’ve been desperate to write something like this all week)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, switch reader, sub!steven, soft dom!marc, hard dom!jake, rough sex, love making, choking, blow job, spanking, crying, overstimulated, multiple orgasms, handcuffs, oral sex, riding, pet names, after care, daddy/sir kink, squirting, intense orgasms, creampie

Word: 5.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

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MIRROR'S EDGE

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant

Summary: You offer Marc a trade: something you want for something he wants, but you quickly realise you may be in for more than you can handle.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: Pure pornography, edging, orgasm denial, Marc’s dirty filthy mouth, cunnilingus, overstimulation, Steven being a loveable cock blocking meow meow, established relationship.

Word Count: 6.4k (all of it porn)

[Tag List and Masterlist]

Marc can be intense. Overly-serious. Intimidating.

There is that semi frown, a grim, set line of his lips that never breaks into a smile. Narrow, scrutinising gaze set across rich, expressive eyes. His expression is permanently serious. Grumpy and surly even. But for all of his brusque mannerism and frosty behaviour, Marc, in his own ways, can be surprisingly indulgent with you. 

Tucking you in, up to your shoulders with the quilt to shield you from the cold when you’ve fallen asleep on him. Leaving you small gifts, odds and ends he thinks you’ll like that appear at random, no note or card, no credit taken even if you confront him directly about it. Making repairs or doing chores surreptitiously, when you’re not looking.

He wants to indulge you without the flourish or the attention. It’s probably why the only place and time he openly pampers you without restraint is when he has you naked and bare. When his mouth is drowning between your thighs or his cock buried into you to the hilt of himself. 

In those moments, it’s always about you. You and your pleasure as he pulls orgasm after overwhelming orgasm out of you. It’s almost as if any pleasure that he allows himself to have in the moment is only if it’s incidental to yours. As unrelenting as he can be, when his hips snap into you with a demanding pace, you also know that he’s going easy on you. 

You see it in rare flashes in that dark hungry gaze. In the moments leading up to your orgasm, those suspended seconds where you’re hanging by a balance on the edge of tipping over. You can see it then, how there’s something more he wants, before he snaps out of it with the shake of his head and pulls himself out of the trance as you fall apart before him. If you could, you would want to prolong that moment for the both of you, when his eyes are bare and open, honest with his needs. Because it’s like he’s always holding back with you. Scared that if he takes you apart the way that he wants to, you’d break like fine porcelain in front of his very eyes. 

You see that same look in his eyes now, as you pull back momentarily from where you’re straddling his lap on the sofa, sharing heated kisses. That guilty, greedy look, like he wants more than you’re giving him, but won’t let himself take it.

“I won’t break,” you tell him. He looks up with a plastered on confused gaze pretending he doesn’t know exactly what you mean. “Whatever it is you want to do to me. You can. I won’t break.” You swear you can almost see him emotionally withdrawing before your eyes, so you press on, “You get to ask me for things too. You know that, right Marc?”

He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head, mouth set in that familiar downturned line that says you won’t get anything more from him. You probably should have expected this reaction. Marc never asks you for anything for himself. Not ever. You think he feels like he doesn’t deserve to ask for anything. He guards his needs like a secret inside a penitentiary. “What if....” You scramble for something to offer that might get him to agree, “What if we trade? You tell me what you want from me in bed, and I’ll tell you something I want from you.” Marc's eyes narrow in an attempt to look sceptical, but not before you catch the flash of almost-predatory interest.  

“...and I'll even go first," you offer to sweeten the deal, praying he'll take the bait.

He doesn’t agree. But he also hasn’t said no yet, which, from Marc, qualifies as a confession in your book that he wants what you’re offering. It won’t take much, just a little push in the right direction, and you'll have him. 

"There is something I want to try with you," you stall, watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction for interest. You don't have to fake the heat that rises in your cheeks when you can see Marc's hands flexing at his sides. Dragging your eyes up from those thick fingers that so often bring you so much pleasure, you look up at his face from under your eyelashes just in time to catch him licking his lips. 

"Tell me," he demands. He's leaning in, gaze focused and intense in a way that sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

"Not unless you promise you'll go next."

His eyes soften for just a moment, and the corner of his mouth hitches up just a hair, which from Marc is almost as good a full laugh. You feel a flash of triumph because you know he’s going to agree even before the words leave his mouth.

"You drive a hard bargain, pretty girl. Alright. Me next. Now tell me." 

“It’s... um... Well I– That is...” You fidget with your hands in your lap. Now that you’ve lured him into agreeing, you realise that you didn’t think this through. What are you going to ask for? What could you possibly want that Marc and Steven haven’t already given you? Especially when they’ve given you pleasure above and beyond your wildest dreams already? Marc seems to mistake your floundering for hesitance, and some of the sharp focus in his gaze fades into an open expectant expression (well, as open as Marc’s expressions ever get anyway).  He reaches out and takes both your hands in his larger ones. 

“You can tell me. Anything you want, baby. Just tell me and it’s yours.” His eyes and hands, both warm.

“I… um…” And God, he really does mean that, doesn’t he? Marc is less openly affectionate than Steven. Less open period, but you know he’d move heaven and fucking earth to give you anything you wanted. He does it every day and won’t even let you thank him for it—pretends it wasn’t him if you try. That’s just what he’s like. 

You look up at him, into those big brown eyes, and you get a flash of those very same eyes staring down at you, feverish and greedy, as he brings you to the brink in bed. You can almost hear the low, eager rasp of his voice as he asks you if you’re close. That suspended moment when you can see the leashed hunger, the need for something more in him. And you know what you want. 

“I want you to edge me.”

Silence. There’s silence. The intense focus is back. You can feel the weight of it on your skin, the heat of his burning gaze. The way Marc’s staring at you it’s a wonder you don’t spontaneously combust. You almost feel like you could. “You want me… to edge you.” His voice is neutral, but his body language is anything but. You can see the tension in his body, in the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way the muscles of his jaw flex. You nod. “If… if that’s alright with you as well?” You hate how uncertain your voice sounds all of a sudden. Not sure where this sudden timidity has come from except that his gaze is stripping you bare, exposing you until you are unable to hide from him. “Yeah,” Marc huffs out with a laugh. An actual, honest to God laugh. “Yeah. That’s alright with me.”  The corner of his mouth is turned up as far as you’ve ever seen it, but his eyes are all dark heat and promise as they bore into your own. 

“But if we do this? I’m not gonna let you off easy. You understand?” His voice, low and rough, burns its way through you along with the realisation that he wants this. That you were right.

You’ve finally figured out some small corner of Marc’s wants beyond just you, and you get to give it to him. Or, rather, let him give it to you. The knowledge thrills you, makes you want to give him even more.

“I don’t want you to let me off easy, Marc. I want you to ruin me.” 

He groans, deep in his chest, and you think you hear a muttered, “Fuck. Gonna ruin me,” before his lips are on yours, desperate and devouring.

With far too much ease, he slides a firm strong arm around your waist to pull you to him. His other hand urges you to wrap your legs around him, helping you to lock them around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up in his arms and carrying you across your flat into the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. 

Before you know it, Marc is lowering you onto the bed and following you down. The reassuring weight of his body settles over you, holding you down, pressing you into the mattress. 

Popping the button open on your jeans, he drags them down your legs and off. His firm, calloused hand skates a smooth path along your skin on the way back up, dragging along the outside of your calf to your knee, then your thigh before he gently spreads your legs for him. 

The broadness of his palm covers your mound, cupping you through your knickers, and you become acutely aware of just how wet you are. The touch feels heated, intoxicating, even though he hasn’t really done anything to you yet. From the curved smile on Marc’s lips, you're sure he can feel the way you’ve already soaked through the cotton fabric of your knickers. 

The heel of his hand grinds down against you, and the pressure is delicious, relieving the ache that’s already built for him between your legs. You can’t help wantonly canting your hips up, seeking more contact, more friction, just more of him. But his hand is already moving away. His fingers find the edge of your knickers, trailing along the ticklish skin there, and then he’s pushing them aside. 

The tip of one finger parts your soaking folds, sliding a slick line to your clit, and your whole body jolts at the electric contact.  

“Fuck. So wet already. You always get so fucking wet for me,” he murmurs against your neck, mouth sliding hot and open against your skin as he makes slow precise circles over and over on your clit. Then his hand dips lower, sinking two thick fingers into your cunt, in a perfect filling slide. It punches the air out of you, leaving only a sweet ache in its wake. Your mind feels raw around the edges, fuzzy with the sharp spike of heat spearing through you. The heel of his hand rests over your clit as his fingers curl into you, unerringly finding all your sweet spots at once. 

He could make you come like this after only a few moments—has done just that many times before. This time he draws it out, instead, fucking you slow and thorough with his fingers, as though determined to wring every drop of pleasure out of you. And God, he is. 

You’re panting, as wet as you’ve ever been. So wet you’re probably dripping down his fingers to his wrist, but you’re too far gone to even be embarrassed because it feels so fucking good. Your body curls into his touch as he fills you just right, two talented fingers working inside you. 

The pleasure is devastating. Your leg kicks out, toes curling into the sheets. You’ve foregone all sense of shame, grinding yourself up up up against his palm in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge that’s dangling just out of your reach. 

You’re close, so fucking close. Your impending orgasm searing through your spine like it is ready to burn a hole through your flesh. You just need a little bit more, and Marc is giving it to you perfectly… Until he isn’t.

Marc stops.

He pulls his hand away, the full thickness of his fingers slipping out of you and leaving you empty and needy, and it’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head.

Oh right, edging. You asked him to edge you.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breath panting as your lungs squeeze painfully tight in your chest. His fingers are glistening with your slick in the light, as he puts them to his plush pink lips and slips them in between to suck them clean. 

“That was a close one wasn’t it, baby?”

Pulling down your knickers from your legs, he drags them off your ankles, before leaning down against you. He starts from your chest, pressing, burning kisses against your breast and the ends of his curls tickle your heated, sweat-slicked skin as he makes his way down your stomach, tongue sliding down your hips as he dots kisses to your thighs, spreading your legs even wider for him. 

He stops there, holding himself above you, so close, the tip of his nose is nudging against the apex of your thighs. There’s a beat of a second, an excruciating wait for you. You don’t know what he’s doing until you hear the inhale of a breath, his shoulders rising as he’s breathing you in, inhaling the scent of you. Then you feel it, the warmth of his breath ghost over your oversensitive clit, until he finally puts his mouth to your pussy. 

You can feel the way his jaw tenses as his mouth works you open. His tongue is a slow obliging slide through your slick folds as he hums into you. Soft and wet as he parts you. 

“Taste so good,” he murmurs, scraping his chin against the inside of your leg, until the stubble burns pleasantly against the oversensitive skin. It’s an overwhelming, visceral sensation that makes your body jolt, stomach clenching. You nearly kick him in the face, but Marc is way ahead of you, hand firm on your leg as he pins you down. 

“Easy. Easy there, baby. We’re just getting started.” 

It’s so slow and so insistent as he laps at your cunt. The bright flair of pleasure and pain that shoots through you is unbearable at this point. Your fingers dig and grip into those soft curls, pulling them tight until it must sting against his scalp, just the way Marc likes it. Hoping it’ll spur him on and drive him to distraction and just let you come. 

Your thighs are shaking. Your stomach too and every muscle in your body is trembling, pulling taut like you are at the end of a race and can finally see the goal before you. The pleasure is almost painful, and you forget to breathe, seeing spots dancing in your vision. 

“More, Marc, please—oh fuck, just like that, please don’t stop, I’m almost—”

But he doesn’t give you more, just keeps to the sedate pace he has set for the both of you. A spike of dread shoots down your spine as you now realise what you’ve actually signed up for. 

White, hot bliss spills through you with each move of his mouth, but your climax remains just out of reach, promising to be so ripe and sweet that you can nearly taste it on the tip of your tongue. No matter how much you writhe and squirm against him, Marc doesn’t let up, holding you firm against the mattress, until you’re right on the trembling edge.

And then he stops. God, this is so unfair, you can’t—Oh God, you can’t—fuck. 

He hushes you, a sweet cooing sound into your ear as he rubs your inner thigh soothingly to let you climb down from the precipice. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs. You’re not stupid enough to believe for one second that it’s altruistic of him, its only purpose is to let you calm down just enough for him to wind you up again like a tight bowstring holding back just enough so you don’t snap. 

Everything aches, splinters burrowing under your skin. Somehow, Marc knows, he soothes the sting with his soft lips, pressing them against your skin until it subsides. The edge of his teeth skirts against the inside of your thighs before biting down. Replacing the ache with an even harsher sting that has you arching into his mouth for more. 

You can no longer tell time anymore. Time is just an abstract concept, as Marc repeatedly leads you by the hand to the brink of orgasm, climbing up that white peak only to abandon you there, pulling away from you to admire the view. 

It’s torture and pleasure all wrapped up in one confusing overwhelming parcel. He takes you to the edge and pulls you back twice more with his hands alone before he adds his mouth into the equation again. Everything is a blur after that, you can't feel the mattress pressed to your back, and you swear you are floating out of your body.

The pleasure slows again, hot and molten until it drips syrupy sweet between your legs onto his tongue. You’ve already given in, don’t try to move without his permission, no resistance left in you and you don’t know why he still hasn’t let you come yet. 

“Marc– Oh God. Please! Just let me—” 

He cuts you off before you’re able to finish your nonsensical blabbering. It’s just as well, in your current state of mind you’re hardly able to string up anything coherent. 

“You asked me, remember? What I wanted. This is it.” Those expressive eyes are burning into yours, predatory and hungry like he is about to devour you whole. “This is what I want. Want to have you falling apart from my fingers. In my mouth. On my cock. Begging.”

All you’re capable of is whining in response, and he keeps talking with that low rasp in his voice. 

“Beg for me, pretty girl. Beg me to make you come.”

You do exactly that. You’re well beyond the point of shame or inhibitions. The only thing left in you that passes for a higher function is your need to come. 

“Fuckfuck, Marc, please. Please just let me come. I need it. Oh God. I need to come.”

"I don't think you do," Marc says, lips curving upwards, as he raises himself onto his knees, "Not yet."

You make a high pitched noise of denial, reaching for him as he moves away, but he ignores you.

"You knew what you were doing when you asked for this." Those deft fingers make quick work of his belt, and he shoves his trousers down over his ample hips before dragging them off entirely. "You came to me, not Steven."

In the mirror, you can see the carved muscles of his arms and back flex as he pulls off his shirt, and then he's naked in front of you, all smooth tanned skin that looks almost golden in your bedroom light. 

"Warned you I wasn’t gonna let you off easy." 

And God, he did. But you can't bring yourself to care when he's looming above you, wrapping one hand around his hard cock that's slick and shiny-wet with pre-come dripping from the flushed tip. You’re practically salivating at the sight of him.

"And I’m not done with you yet.”

Strong fingers circle your ankles, and he yanks you down toward him, under him. Dropping down to cover your body with his, Marc notches the fat tip of his cock at your slick entrance.

You brace yourself for penetration, already anticipating the sweet stretch of him, but it doesn’t come. You roll your hips up, desperately seeking the angle that will get him inside you, unable to understand why he’s not already fucking you. 

“Did you want something, baby?” Marc smirks down at you as you writhe underneath him. He’s clearly enjoying himself, the bastard. “Maybe you should try asking nicely.”

“Please,” you manage to pant out, more needy whine than actual coherent sound.

“Please what?” Marc demands.

“Marc, please,” you whimper.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.” He’s still wearing that fucking smirk, and he’s gazing down at you expectantly. If you didn’t know any better you might think he really doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but his next words remove all doubt. “You want my cock in you? You’re gonna have to say it for me.”

“Your cock. Want your cock. Need you to fuck me. Need you, Marc. Please.” You force the words out, half pleading, half almost annoyed, but his eyes light up as soon as you start speaking, gleaming with something like pride, but darker, more urgent. The look on his face is captivating.

“That’s my girl.” And then he pushes into you, and you forget about everything except the weight of him inside you.

The first slide as he fills you up with his cock is fucking heaven. A sweet aching stretch that sends pleasure singing out along your every nerve. Your thighs tremble where they bracket his hips, nearly numb with the tingling heat that’s spreading quickly outward. 

You can’t stay still, your body arching against him without any input from you, clenching down around the delicious girth of him, and you swear your eyes roll back in your head, your vision flickering. 

With that infuriating control of his, Marc lets you writhe on his cock for a moment before he pulls back, nearly all the way out. Your hands fly to his shoulder in a desperate attempt to keep him close. All you hear in your ear is a dark chuckle, and then he slams himself back in. It’s so mind-meltingly good your vision darkens and you swear you see fucking stars from it. 

He doesn’t stop. He drives himself into you with harsh, deep thrusts. The pace is hard and fast. Pleasure rockets through you with each press of his hips into yours. It spreads up your stomach, twining along your legs and up your stomach and wrapping your chest in warmth, coalescing into a tight knot of bliss that ratchets tighter with every stroke. You can feel your orgasm building, and you arch up to meet each of his strokes, straining for completion. 

Then he stills. Thrusts deep and holds there, and it’s almost enough. 

Almost...

Would be enough if he would just–

But he doesn’t, and your orgasm starts to slip away. As close as you had been, it feels like torture, and your breath comes out as a sob. You think… you think you might actually be crying this time, tears stinging your eyes at the loss. Anger sparks in your blood. Never mind that you asked for this, wanted this. 

You need to come. 

Your cunt clenches and squeezes around the hardness of his cock and it twitches and jerks in response. Those beautiful eyes of his slam shut, as he bites out a curse. It’s the closest to a loss of control you’ve seen from Marc all evening. 

So you don’t stop doing it, fuck, you don’t think you could will yourself to stop squeezing around him even if you wanted to. Muscles contracting and clutching down in a way that’s beyond your control when you’re rewarded with a half-aborted thrust. You’re not sure if you’re trying to tempt him into fucking you again, or if you’re just that desperate that you think this alone can make you come. Either, both, you don’t even care, too blitzed out on adrenaline and the withdrawal of pleasure. You don’t care how you get it as long as you get to come. 

It’s maddening, your hips are desperately trying to seek some friction that will be enough to push you over, trying to chase your orgasm. Almost—fuck, almost, pleasure shoots through your stomach, sparking along the line of your spine. Even if Marc doesn’t help, you’re sure you can get there by yourself. Your muscles lock tight, and the pleasure hums and sings through your veins. You’re gonna, fuckfuck, you’re gonna— 

Before you can, he pulls out of you, and you cry out, your empty cunt clenching around nothing as you shudder and pant your way through the aching loss. Every nerve screaming for the release he’s denied you. 

"Oh no you don't. That's cheating, pretty girl. You don't get to come that easily."

A sob tears through you, and you don’t even care how pathetic you must sound. “Please, please let me have your cock.” You sound like an actress in a bad porno, but it doesn’t matter how ridiculous you sound if it gets you what you want. 

It seems like your desperate attempt was all for nought. Marc doesn’t move any closer. The look in his eyes, the mischievous curl of his lips tells you that there’s no chance in hell he’s going to give into you. 

"You gonna be a good girl for me? Hold still while I give you my cock?" 

"Yes, Marc. Yes! Please just..." 

"I don't think you are.  Only good girls get fucked like that. Show me you can be a good girl. Show me you can take more for me."

His eyes burn into you, pupils blown so wide that they’re almost pitch black in their intensity. As much as you need to come. As much as you’re sure that you are going to die if he denies you again. You want this more. To be the centre of this man’s attention, the object of his devotion. To have his intense gaze fixed on you like you’re the only thing that exists to him in this moment, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You don’t ever want it to stop. 

You think you understand it now. Why Marc wants you to beg for him this desperately. Why he refuses to let you off easy and won’t give in, stringing out these moments when you are on the precipice of your orgasm, desperate and floundering. Why he’s driving you to this unbearable point only to withhold it from you again and again, even as you’re shamelessly begging for him until your voice is hoarse, each cry burning and scratching in your throat. 

What is begging if not a desperate declaration that you need him? That when you’re both stripped of overthinking, down to your most basic self, until only need and want are left, you need him. 

That’s why he wants to hear you say it now, when he’s worn you down to the point where you have no filter. 

He won’t believe it otherwise. 

Because deep down, Marc fundamentally views himself as someone who is unwanted. This is the one moment, when you’re shameless, needy and blissed out of your mind, with no pretence that he can allow himself to accept otherwise. 

So you meet his dark, greedy gaze, and you give him what he wants.

“Fuck. Marc, please. Want you.” Your panting, barely coherent, but somehow you manage to get the words out. “Please! I need you. Need you to make me come. Please please please, Marc. I want you. Just want you. Please.” 

"I know you do, baby.” He pets a hand across your hair, his eyes soften, and you can see that he actually believes you. “Know you do.”

Pleasure strikes hot and deep as he thrusts back into you. And it’s fucking perfect. That sweet burning ache builds immediately, deep and consuming, and you only want more. You’ve grown addicted to it. To him.

He’s not stopping, hips thrusting into you, and blissful pleasure swirls tight and insistent somewhere deep in your belly. 

This is it. You’re sure of it now, this is it. Marc is going to let you come.  

Your eyes clench shut, too overwhelmed to keep them open as you let the sensation take over. 

And then it stops. 

Again. 

Oh God, you can’t. You’re going to die. This man is actually going to murder you with orgasm denial.

"One more time. Just one more time for me, then I’ll make you come. You can take it for me, baby." His voice is gentle, coaxing. The softness in direct contrast to the way you’re crying and begging now, nearly hysterical. 

“Nononooo, Marc, please. I need– Oh God. I can’t– Please. Please!!”

Despite his promise, he doesn’t move. Holds there, locked deep inside you. You don’t even have it in you to resist or be angry anymore, because you are sure that you have already died and this is hell and you are being punished by some malevolent god. 

Instead, his warm hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing against the apple of it.

“You alright there, love?”

That’s different. The intonation is different from Marc’s flat one, a valley that rises and falls. You blink. Eyes fluttering open to gentle brown eyes filled with open adoration and so much love. 

Steven… Steven’s here in Marc’s place. 

“You sounded… a bit not good... Did Marc take it too far?” There is genuine worry for you in his eyes as he looks down on you, even though you both know that Marc would never do anything to hurt you. And oh bless. Your sweet Steven heard you begging and crying and has swooped in to save you like a white knight. It makes you wonder how desperate you must have sounded, how loud you must have been crying out for him to think you were truly in distress. 

“Want me to make you come?” Steven asks with such sincerity it makes your heart swell with affection. 

If you weren’t so keyed up, you might stop and explain the situation. If you weren’t so out of it, legs aching with muscle strain from your exertions of being denied over and over again, you might refuse his offer and ask for Marc back.

But you are pushed beyond the point of rational thought. Marc’s stripped you of every conscious thought, until your prefrontal cortex has incinerated any brain cells that may have once been there. Your decision-making skills are shattered. All you care about, all you can think, taste, feel, is your desperate, consuming need to come. 

So you nod, instinctively saying the only word you are capable of saying throughout this evening. 

“Please.” 

Steven breaks out into a beaming smile, boyish and sweet that lights up the whole room with it. 

You reach up and tangle your hand in his hair, pulling him down to you so that you can kiss him hard.

“Steven,” you pant into his open mouth, “Need you to move.”

“Right.” He says decisively and starts to pull out, but then he gasps and his hips immediately stutter into you with an abortive half thrust. He shivers and drops his head down against your collarbone, panting hard, only to raise it again a moment later with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs apologetically. “A bit far gone, at the moment I guess. He was closer to the edge than I thought. But let’s see what I can do for you, love."

His hips pull away and a whine leaves your lips, before he thrusts back in—your half-whine turns into a choked dying sound as you feel him deep and hard, filling every inch of you. 

“Fuck, fuck, Steven.”

He groans, hips adjusting his angle, hands pulling greedily into your thighs as he lifts you to him, until he strikes something devastating inside you that has your muscles locking tight in euphoria. It’s like he knows, because he thrusts into you, just like that, again and again with a hard and rough pace. 

His pace falters only for a second as his head whips into the direction of the mirror, catching his own reflection and then he frowns. 

“Just a tick,” Steven mutters, and for some unfathomable, unthinkable reason he slips out of you, moving away from you, one leg already climbing out of the bed. 

The sound that comes from you is inhuman, as you claw and dig your fingernails into the meat of his arm hard enough to break his soft skin. “Steven! No. Don’t stop.”

“Sorry, love. I’m sorry, just— Sorry. Just give me a moment.” He climbs the rest of the way out of bed, and you don’t understand what he’s doing or where he’s going, refusing to ease your grip as he pulls the sheets to drape it over the silver surface of the mirror. 

If you were more coherent, you might spare a moment to consider why Steven is covering up the mirror, but you aren’t. Your mind solely focused on the fact that Steven is going to satisfy the desperate aching need that burns hot in your stomach. To finally give you the climax you’ve been denied so many times. 

He climbs back into the bed hurriedly, almost snagging himself against the covers. Then he’s back, notching himself at your entrance and slides all the way inside, until he’s flush against your hips. The reassuring heat of his skin pressed alongside every inch of yours as he grinds his cock deep. Sparks of heat lick your spine as he grinds into that perfect spot. 

It doesn’t last long. Edged as you have been, brought to the precipice of your orgasm again and again until you’ve lost your mind with the pleasure and torture of it, it doesn’t take long at all. You can already feel the telltale sign of warmth pooling in your belly, spreading outwards. 

Steven doesn’t stop. You know he won’t. Steven is always desperate to please you, doesn’t have it in him to deny you of anything, and you love him for it. His hips slam into you, again and again, with a frantic pace, deep and indulgent, just like you need him to.

You want to tell him that it’s good. Perfect. Praise him for always taking care of you, but you can’t form the words. All you can do is cling to him as everything inside you ratchets higher, tighter, so much more intense after being denied for so long.

Pleasure spills and spills, flaring out against every inch of your skin, flooding your senses. It’s chaotic and too much, bright spots blinding your vision as you come, harder than you ever have in your life. 

Steven still isn’t stopping, pushing deep into you as his thrust doesn’t slow its momentum. You try to ride out the pleasure, bucking your hips as you grind up against him, but it won’t stop. Oh fuck—it’s not stopping. “Steven, Steven—I’m… fuck I’m—” The blinding bliss spikes through your blood, hot and piercing. You’re not sure if it’s the start of a second more intense orgasm or if your first just never ended. It’s all blissful heat and sharp-edged pleasure, spearing throughout your body until it erupts in your veins. 

It’s pitiful the way you’re sobbing, whining and keening for him, as he continues relentlessly with his strokes, until you feel him spill into you with a broken gasp. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so completely overcome or maybe you’ve lost your sense of time, but it feels like he comes for ages, body tense and heaving above you. Finally, he stills, collapsing down onto you, and you lay there like that for a long moment, panting into each other’s skin. 

Eventually, Steven bestirs, lifting himself up on an elbow to grin down at you.

“That was… Wow. I mean, that was amazing, is what that was. You’re amazing.” He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and lips and then moves away from you. 

Even as over-sensitive as you are, you barely flinch as he withdraws. Instead, you feel sleepy and sated, reality gone blurry and faded at the edges, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

You blink, and then Steven is there. He has a warm, damp cloth that he uses to gently wipe you down, murmuring quiet praise and affection all the while. You drift off with the cotton-soft sound of his voice in your ears.

By the time he rejoins you in bed, you’re dead to the world.  

You wake up to the morning sun filtering through your bedroom window. Muscles still aching from the previous night, you stretch and open your eyes, only to meet dark eyes bearing down on your sleeping form. 

Marc does not look happy. 

His eyes are narrowed, brown drawn with more than just his perpetual semi-frown. His gaze is intense. If you didn’t know him as intimately as you do, you would describe it as intimidating. 

“Took you long enough to wake up,” he says, with an unmistakably sarcastic drawl that tells you you’re in trouble. “Steven must have really worn you out.” 

Climbing out of the bed, he walks over to the mirror, movements brusque as he tugs the sheet off. Once the silver reflection reveals itself, he turns back to you, pulling at your ankle to drag you to the end of the bed, before he settles himself back onto the mattress. 

With one strong arm, he lifts you up and into his lap, handling you like a weightless ragdoll to position you where he wants you to be. He manoeuvres you until you’re sitting in his lap, leaning back against his chest, and pulls you back until he’s pressed tight against your back and you’re both facing the mirror. 

His hand wraps around your throat, and even though there’s hardly any pressure, your pulse jumps excitedly to meet his thumb resting against the hollow of your throat. Tilting your face to his, he licks into your mouth, claiming it thoroughly. Possessive, hard. He doesn't let go until you’re out of breath. 

“I wasn’t done with you when Steven interrupted. Guess that means we have to do it all over again, baby.” He narrows his eyes at himself in the mirror. “And I’m not tagging out this time. You hear me, Steven.” 

You can see Marc observing you in the mirror. That dark hungry gaze reflected back at you. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t try to snap himself out of it. Fully allowing himself to give in to the bare primal need in him without restraint. 

“You remember what I told you last night?” he whispers into your ear, and his breath fans hot and burning against your hairline. “Still not gonna let you off easy.” 

One hand skates alongside the inside of your thighs, nudging your legs with his knees as he spreads you open, putting you on a debauched naked display for the mirror.

For Steven.

For Marc. 

“Make sure you beg real pretty for Steven and me this time,” he taunts, and his fingers part your slick folds, spreading you wide and glistening in the mirror and making a depraved display of you.  

Excitement buzzes in your blood. You knew full well there was going to be a consequence when you asked Steven to make you come. That you weren’t going to escape without repercussions. But that’s alright. You’ll take whatever punishment that Marc deemed fit. No holds barred, nothing but joy and excitement singing in your veins as Marc decides to take from you exactly he wants. 

It’s just what you wanted. 

Dedication and Credits

To my eternally suffering co-pilot @thirstworldproblemss for spending her incredibly busy time clowning around with me and my horny self. For being the best co-writer any gal can ask for. For being the absolute best partner ping-ponging ideas, sharing one single brain cells and sharing brain-wave transmission. For looking at a wonky sentence I wrote that I am about to yeet out, and knowing exactly what I actually wanted to say (even though that's not what I wrote) and fixing it with her sheer brilliance and genuis. For just being shrimply the best.

To my no.1 comic gal, @radiowallet with her endless support and advice. Your big beautiful brain is my favourite encyclopedia and you are the best. Check out her amazing story Funny Girl, featuring Dieter Bravo from the Bubble, a pitch perfect that makes me feel like I am on the set of SNL.

To my dinowhore @jazzelsaur as I am serenading Goodbye to you by Michelle Branch for her departed puth. Check her insanely, envy-inducingly good masterpiece Stay on the Screenplay featuring Dieter Bravo from the Bubble. It is Hollywood angst at its best.

To my parachute buddy @the-ginger-hedge-witch for the encouragement and helping me fix my tattered pieces. Her legendary: The Crush featuring everyone's favorite emotionally blocked DEA agent Javier Peña are the things that dreams are made of.