Did She Miss Him? She Wanted To Lose Herself In Him. To Tie Him around Her Like A tourniquet. If She

The light in the apartment we are staying in is unreal

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.”

Abba (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Request: Definitely in the mood for something with a Daddy Dom Alfie and a Little, obedient reader who’s always trying to please her Daddy 🤤😍  ; As the anon who requested Daddy Dom Alfie, I suggest the scenario be Alfie having the reader tied up and just using her to blow off some steam 🤤 she’s not allowed to cum, and when she does by accident, he punishes her with the overstimulation and has her orgasming repeatedly and she just has to lie there and take it for her Daddy omgggg 😍

Warnings: Smut; Mentions of cancer (First paragraphs only.)

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble, but I got carried and now it’s almost 4k words  (almost exclusively smut)😂😂 Hope you enjoy it! (I’m not a smut writer, but I tried.) Let me know what you think!

  Abba

Everybody knew Alfie was sick. A couple close people told him to have a break, advising him to quit working so hard and make an effort to take care of himself, but he just wouldn’t listen. At least when he was swamped with work, he wouldn’t think about his deteriorating health as much as when he was home alone.

Cooking was difficult for him and his house was a complete mess, but honestly he no longer cared if he was living on a shit-hole, or about himself; he’d always refuse to let any of his sisters help him, considering they had their own families to worry about. He never wanted to be a burden, especially when he was sick; it would only make him feel even more powerless, which was something he frankly hated.

His sisters were, however, deeply worried about his condition and whether he would be well enough; if he kept dragging himself to his own circle of self-pity and self-condemnation, trying to keep everyone away from him, he probably wouldn’t. Whether Alfie liked it or not, they had come to a decision: they would hire a housekeeper to help them keep an eye on him.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been easy at all. You had to be extremely careful when dealing to him; not only he had a filthy temper, his trust was hard to earn and he would rarely let someone see the man inside. He didn’t get involved with people, he wouldn’t want to; that was only until you walked into his life. When you came into his life, it changed for the better; somehow, you brought him hope.

It wasn’t long before your relationship was beyond the professional realm; you both maintained an unusual physical and emotional bond that provided him all the comfort he could ask for, making him feel rejuvenated. You cared for each other on a genuine way.

Alfie saw you as his little girl and that was the only reason that kept him going. It had two sides; he loved to pamper you, make you feel special, protect you… But within four walls it was a complete different story, as he also loved to be strict and punish you, having the dominance he craved for.

Keep reading

Lighthouse for a Lost Comrade

Pairing // Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Word count // 4.9k

Tags // 18+ ONLY, AFAB reader, soft simon riley, written from simon’s perspective, mild descriptions of injury and blood, hurt and comfort, aka simon finally allows himself to be looked after <3, he is a big boy with a heart that yearns to be loved you cannot convince me otherwise, the softest of smut, praise, you accidentally give ghost a 'sir’ kink, reader calls ghost sir a couple of times because they’re hot like that, unprotected sex (tut tut), creampie, a whole lot of swearing

AN // i love this man a ridiculous amount, so me writing nearly 5k about how much i love him was inevitable

AO3 link here

Simon Riley is not a man who cares about his own health. In fact, his wellbeing never has, and never will be a priority to him. He has work to do, gruelling, gritty, gruesome work, it is beyond pointless wasting time even thinking about when he last had more than 3 hours sleep, or how long it’s been since he consumed anything other than cold military rations. In his defence, he’s never really had a reason to give a shit, he sees the hourglass whenever he allows himself to close his eyes; watches the sand slip rapidly through the cracks, counting down until his inevitable, most likely painful death. He’s living life on a timer, and he’s never had a reason to change that.

Until he met you.

Keep reading

i love hiking so much, it clears my mind and helps me calm down from the worst situations

Upping the Ante

Rick Flag (DCEU) x Reader

Summary: Rick keeps his promise. Follow-up to A Betting Man.

Word count: 2,129

A/N: This fic is dedicated to one of my beta readers, good friends, and fellow CEO of Simps, Inc. whose birthday is tomorrow. Happy birthday!

Warnings: Vaginal sex, rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, masturbation (male), overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit o’ praise kink

While you adjust your dress, Rick tosses the condom into the nearest dumpster and refastens his pants. He grabs you by the hips and pulls your pelvis flush against his. “Wanna make another bet?” he asks.

You narrow your stare at him, intrigued. “Depends on the bet.”

He tightens his grasp. “Come home with me tonight and I’ll fuck you ‘til you can’t see straight.”

“That’s not a bet, Rick.”

“No,” he drawls, stroking his thumbs over the dip of your waist. “But it is a promise.”

You stumble over the threshold and into Rick’s apartment, tongues twisting, breaths exchanging, and hands a blur as you tear at each other’s clothes. It’s a flurry of fabric, garment after garment dropping unceremoniously to the ground.

The front door slams. The lock automatically slides home as it shuts. Rick flicks on the light switch to the left of the door, and a standing lamp posted at the opposite side of the door frame blinks on.

“I swear, I never do this,” you mumble against Rick’s lips, walking backward as he leads you deeper into the apartment. You kick off your shoes and unzip your dress as you go. “I’m not usually the sleeping-with-strangers type.”

“Me neither,” he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Your words fall into his mouth as you prattle off a few facts about yourself: your last name, where you’re from, what you do, and so on. Rick unbuttons his shirt and strips it off his broad shoulders while he tells you a similar set of facts about himself.

“Flag,” he says. “Actually, Colonel Richard Flag, Jr., if you wanna get specific. Born in D.C., but I spend most of my time in Louisiana these days. Don’t ask me what I’m doing there, though, because if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya, and that’d be a real fucking shame because you are so fucking hot.”

“You flatter me,” you snicker.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.”

Rick brands the shape of his mouth across your neck, his lips hot and wanton on your skin. He bends slightly at the knee to tug off his jeans and boxer briefs, then straightens to his full, towering height and punts the clothes across the room.

He stalls and breaks the kiss.

Rick’s movements are slow as he grazes his short fingernails over your back, following the V-shape of the open zipper cascading down your spine. He hooks the tips of his fingers under the parted seam and drags the dress down over your shoulders, middle, and hips so it falls in a heap around your bare feet.

The light from the standing lamp near the door washes tantalizingly over your nearly naked figure. You reach behind your back, flick open the clasp tight against your upper back, and drop your bra to the floor.

You take a staggering step backward.

You salaciously scan Rick’s body: sculpted, carved, chiseled. He gleams under the warm lamplight, his skin kissed by sunset. Shadows shade the defined ridges of his muscles. Shoulders pulled back and chin raised, he holds himself with confidence, with strength, with power. His toned stomach shudders as he sucks in a breath.

His pupils expand the longer he stares at you. He trails his eyes over every curve, every edge, and every dimple of your body. He stares and stares and stares, until he can’t resist it any longer. He charges toward you, cups your cheeks, and draws you into another passionate kiss.

Your hands mirror the other’s as you skim your fingertips lightly down each other’s abdomens to the apex of your respective thighs. Rick dips his fingers between your folds and you wrap your palm around his stiff cock.

You exchange sighs, mimicking movements. You pump your fist in time with the steady pace of Rick’s fingers furling and unfurling in your pussy. Then, his thumb brushes against your clit. Your head tips back. You moan.

“Oh, fuck, Rick.” You bring your head back to center. “Will you please fuck me already?”

“Ma’am,” he drawls, “it’d be my pleasure.”

Rick coils his palms around the backs of your thighs and lifts you into his arms. As he carries you toward his bedroom, you claw at his shoulders. You rake your fingernails across his scalp and nip at his neck. A growl thunders in his chest as he kicks open his bedroom door and sits on the side of his bed, straddling you across his lap.

Rick turns on the lamp and blindly rifles through the drawer in the bedside table beside him. He pulls out an unopened box of condoms. He yanks open the box, rips one from the chain, tosses the box back into the bedside table, and shuts the drawer. His nimble fingers move quickly as he opens the wrapper and rolls the condom down his shaft. His eyes meet yours.

“Ride me, sweetheart,” he says.

With one hand, Rick lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, and with the other, he guides you up onto your kneecaps, then down onto his shaft. You groan in unison as he bottoms out.

You start slowly, allowing yourself to feel every inch of the man inside of you—rock hard and demanding attention. You link your arms firmly around his neck and pin yourself even closer to him, welding your bodies together with the sheen of sweat dampening your chests.

Rick helps you ride him. His hand stays anchored at your waist while the other roves over your shoulder and around to your collar, his thumb brushing across your clavicle. He braids his fingers in your hair and pushes it out of your face so he can see you.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says.

Fucking hell.

You slam your lips against his and knot your fingers in the mop of sandy hair at the back of his skull. You hasten the drop of your hips.

“Oh, fuck,” Rick groans as you clench around him. “Jesus fucking Christ. You gotta… You gotta stop that, sweetheart, or I’m gonna come too soon.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you tease.

“Yeah, but I told you I’d fuck you ‘til you can’t see straight,” he says. “Can’t do that if I come before you do. At least…” He pauses, a sly smirk gracing his face. “The first time.”

Your lighthearted laugh rings through the thick air around you. “Well, you sure seem like a man with a plan. So, why don’t you show me what you got in mind, Boy Scout?”

Grinning, Rick snaps upright and pivots. He lands you on your hands and knees at the edge of the mattress. You feel his calloused palm smooth over your ass and ghost down the ladder of your spine. You shiver under his surprisingly light touch, and cry out at the contrast to the harsh thrust he delivers seconds later.

His skin slaps loudly against yours as he rails into you. The obscene, percussive sound mixes with your high-pitched whines and chiming whimpers, in harmony with Rick’s guttural groans. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls it taut at the root, adding just a little bit of delicious pain to your overwhelming pleasure.

Rick snakes his other hand around your hip and between your legs. Still plowing into you, he strums your clit feverishly. You feel your orgasm stir in your core. Burning bright, hot, and insistent, it grows as Rick maintains his frantic pace. He can tell you’re nearing the edge, on the cusp of release, and he speeds the motion of his fingers on the center of your pleasure to get you there.

The orgasm crashes through you in tidal waves of ecstasy, a monsoon of bliss. It floods your senses, washes away all tension, and cleanses you of the worry and anxiety that you usually carry in your muscles.

Your cunt flutters around Rick and he comes moments after you do, emptying himself into the condom. He lays his chest over your back. You listen to the heavy sound of his panting breath in your ear.

He inks a soft kiss into your shoulder, straightens his spine again, and pulls his softening cock from your pussy. You expect him to collapse onto the bed next to you, but instead, you feel his palm running down your calf to your ankle.

He yanks your leg out from under you and flips you onto your back. In shock at the magnitude of his bodily power, you meet his ravenous stare.

Rick slides down your body, eyes shining with hunger. He stamps winding kisses into your abdomen as he goes. Then, he lowers to his knees, spreads your thighs, and brings his face to your cunt.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to gawk at the head of the man buried between your legs. His shoulder blades roll, ropes of muscle sliding over the harsh angles of his bones that comprise his rugged frame: a rippling sea of raw masculinity.

The bedside lamp’s yellowish glow casts over Rick’s head, dyeing his brownish-blond strands pure gold. You comb your fingers through it and let the shimmering locks tickle your knuckles. Rick hums pleasantly against you, enjoying your touch as much as you’re enjoying his.

Rick takes his time, unrushed in the privacy of his own home. He moves his tongue languidly, savoring the taste of you and the sweet noises flowing past your lips. Your elbows buckle beneath you when he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you crash flat on your back into the mattress again.

You’re unaware of the words coming from your mouth, ignorant to everything other than the unwavering heat of Rick’s tongue on your pussy.

“So good,” you pant. “Rick… so… so good.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he says.

Rick urges the orgasm from you with the slide of his tongue and urgency of his mouth. He doesn’t subside after the first; he continues, just as he had earlier that evening outside the bar.

Arms spread wide—a sacrificial pose—your fists tighten in the sheets. Your head lolls from side to side. Your eyes flutter shut and your jaw drops. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure, white-hot and unrelenting. It consumes you, controls you, crushes you. You are at its will, and the will of the man delivering it.

With each lap and lick, feeling wanes from your limbs. It starts in your fingertips, a noticeable tingling, then moves up your legs, leaving them gelatinous, useless, and weak.

“Rick,” you slur, “I can’t. I… It’s too much.”

Rick glimpses up at your slackened face.

“I made you a promise,” he says, “and I intend to keep it.”

Gone is his lethargy. He returns with an insistent vigor that strikes through your limbs like an electric shock, and rips one last climax from your boneless body.

White flashes across your vision, then black, before Rick’s ceiling comes back into focus.

“Holy shit,” you wheeze. “Holy shit, Rick.”

Rick stands, one palm pumping his cock, hard again. He wipes the back of his other hand across his wet mouth.

“How was that, sweetheart?” he asks. You wheeze a laugh and bob your chin lazily in response. Rick speeds the pace of his fist around his shaft and takes a step toward you.

His eyes flash. “Tell me how good I made you feel.”

“You made me feel so good, Rick,” you say. “Never felt that good before.”

Rick’s chest heaves as the praises tumble freely off your tongue.

“You made me come so hard. God, you’re so good.”

His hand hastens. His abdomen contracts. His breath shortens. You watch his cock pulse under his grip.

He comes with a loud grunt, splattering streaks of cum across your tits.

Wracked by his orgasm, Rick keels forward, but catches himself with his palm, rooted to the mattress beside your head. His panting breath wafts over your face. He smears his fingertip through the warm lines and brings it to your lips. You taste him, hot and bitter, on your tongue.

With his gaze glued yours, Rick curls his free hand around the nape of your neck, tilts your head, and kisses you once more.

+ + +

On Sunday, you’re greeted at brunch with a squealing chorus of your name and a round of bone-crushing hugs from your friends. As you settle into the remaining vacant seat, someone thrusts a mimosa into your hand.

The former birthday girl says, “We missed you after we left the bar.”

“I know,” you apologize. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come over.”

“Tell me you had a good rest of your night at least,” she says.

You smirk against the lip of your glass.

“Don’t worry,” you assure her, “I did.”

+

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

Joel Kinnaman Characters Smut Masterpost

Recommended: Unlikely Heroes, Part 1 (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader)

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Touch Me There | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! This is my entrance for @yarnforbrains and @late-to-the-party-81's 300/250 follower celebration! Congratulations to both of you :)

Also, shout out @breakablebarnes for this song! It's so fucking good.

Send me your comments, requests, and/or submissions!

Tag list @beefybuckrrito @everything-burns-down @shadytalementality @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @glxwingrxse @psychoticmason @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @jamesbarnesjr @duchessoftheheart

A/N: New lingerie

Warning: P in V sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), bondage, praise kink

"They say I'm too young,

but boys my age are dumb,

and I'm so fucking done.

Cause I need more than fun,

a man to tie me up,

and give it to me rough."

Bucky was in the midst of a complex discussion with Torres, planning on how to access the Flag Smashers archive, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. His vibranium hand pulled out the phone and he threw a quick glance at the screen, doing a double take when he saw it was a message from you. The two words you'd sent him made his mind go completely blank:

"Need you."

Quickly, Bucky fired a message back: “Like you’re in danger? or in a sexy way? Either way, leaving now. See you in 20.”

He came up with a quick excuse and hastily left the briefing room, almost running to his bike. His phone buzzed again and when he checked the message, all he saw was a photo of your legs in fishnets. Anything related to Torres or the Flag Smashers was pushed from his mind completely as he thought of you needily waiting for him at home. His tires squealed against the concrete as he peeled out of the parking garage in your direction. He weaved through traffic on his motorcycle, breaking all kind of laws without caring.

When he finally got home, he found the door unlocked. The apartment was empty, quiet, still. He’d half expected you to be sitting on the floor in front of the door with your legs already spread for him, and was only slightly disappointed when you weren’t. Just as he was about to call out for you, he heard it- the click, click, click of your heels on the hardwood floor.

The sound got closer, but you were moving way too slow for his liking- delaying him the privilege of seeing you in whatever sultry ensemble you’d decided to put on display for him.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Finallly, you rounded the corner into the living room and stood confidently before him. His eyes raked over your form, making him desperate with need. You stared at him from across the room, clad in fishnet thigh highs, lacy black panties, a black leather bustier with a matching garter belt, and his favorite black stilettos.

“Hey, Sarge…” you called, innocently toying with his dog tags that had found a home between your breasts.

Bucky had no words. He was rendered utterly speechless at the sight of you, his best girl, dressed like that.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue, Buck?”

You knew Bucky was going to be shocked when he feasted his eyes on you, but not this shocked. He hadn’t moved a muscle since you entered the room, which was not what you’d expected. You thought he’d have his hands on you in no time, ripping through your garters and bustier like his life depended on it- but he didn’t. He’d never seen someone so alluring, so mouth-watering, so perfect in his one hundred years of life, and simply didn’t know how to react.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. Slowly, you made your away across the room toward him, never breaking eye contact. The click, click, click of your heels made Bucky’s chest-and his jeans- tighten as he watched you approach. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so still…” you teased as you dragged a finger down his chest. Knowing the effect you had over Bucky was intoxicating, and a devilish smile crept across your lips.

“You like my new outfit…?

The sensation of Bucky’s cold, metal hand wrapping around your wrist made your words catch in your throat. His eyes grew dark as he stared down at you with a wild lust. “That’s enough of that…” he muttered. You took that as a challenge, pressing your free hand flush against his chest with a smirk. A dark chuckle rumbled out of Bucky’s chest, vibrating beneath your touch.

“Wow. Bold today, aren’t we, doll?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about…” you quipped as you let your hand drag down Bucky’s chest to his abdomen. He groaned a little as you ghosted your fingers under the hem of his Henley, but there was no way he was going to let you forget who was in charge. In an instant, he had both of your hands captured with his metal fingers. He pressed you against the nearest wall with his mouth only millimeters from your hammering pulse. “Do you need me to remind you…” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting across your skin, “who you belong to?”

You threw him a shrug and an innocent smile, muttering “who exactly is that?” Without warning, you were thrown over Bucky’s metal shoulder. He let out a dark chuckle as he strode confidently toward the bedroom with your ass inches from his face. “Oh, don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna remind you”, he growled as he landed a smack to your ass.

You loved making Bucky feel like he was in charge. Sure, you were submissive to him, but you had him wrapped around your finger. All it took was a two worded text to get him to leave work, and a new leather bustier to make him crazy for you.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you quipped, earning you another spanking. Bucky threw you down on the bed and leaned over you, grazing his teeth against you neck and making you whimper.

“Both.”

He leaned under the side of the bed and retrieved one of his favorite things in the world: a set of leather restraints. “You remember your colors, right, baby?” he asked as he grabbed one of your legs and pulled you toward the foot of the bed. He let his lips trail from your knee to your ankle before securing the leather cuff to your ankle and fastening the other end to the bed post. He stared up at you, waiting for you to answer his question, but all you gave him was a “hmmmm”.

A sharp sting made you hiss, and you looked down to find his teeth marks on your thigh. “I said, do you remember your colors?” Innocently, you repeated the system the two of you used: “Green is all good, yellow is slow down, and red is stop”, you murmured as he secured your other ankle to the bed post. Slowly, he crept up your body, pressing deep kisses to your skin as he did so. “That’s right. Such a good girl for me…’ he whispered, “gimme those hands”. You did as you were told and presented Bucky with your hands with a giggle. He pressed a kiss to each palm before restraining them to the headboard.

“Color?”

“Green. So green”.

He hummed in approval as he ran his mouth down your arm, nipping and kissing at the skin until he reached your shoulder. “One more thing…” he murmured as he reached into his bedside table. In his vibranium hand sat a black silk blindfold.

“Well, this is new…”

“Yeah…” he murmured, “thought you might like it. I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to use it.”

“Now. Now is good”, you whispered eagerly. He leaned over you and put the blindfold in place, securing it so that you were in complete darkness. “Color, baby?’

“Green green green”

With that, he crushed his lips against yours, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip as his hands roamed your body. A distinct ripping sound caught your attention, and cool air suddenly pricked at your skin. “Bucky…you did not-” you huffed, but he didn’t let you finish. His lips encircled one of your nipples while his fingers found your other one, giving it a pinch that made you yelp. His tongue flicked against your nipple, making you mewl beneath him.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked as he gave you another pinch.

“You…”

“I’ll buy you a new one…actually, several new ones,” he teased as he threw the remnants of your bustier to the floor. Another ripping sound, and your panties and garters were gone as well. “How we doin, baby?” he murmured as he trailed his hands down your abdomen.

“Greeeeeeeen”, you purred. His fingers found your clit and ghosted over it, making you buck your hips in search of more friction. He stroked along your cunt, admiring the slick gathjering on his fingers. He circled them against your clit, pulling away every few second just to tease you. It was torturous and unfair, and you loved every second of it.

“Remind me, who do you belong to, baby?”

“You, Buck…”

When his tongue flicked across your clit, you could’ve cried. The warmth of his mouth pressed against you, sucking your clit into his mouth made you crazy.

He pulled back taking in the sight of you absolutely dripping for him. “Already so wet for me, doll…” he teased, “almost like you’re begging me”. You nodded eagerly, wishing you could reach out and grab him. The restraints clattered against the headboard as you desperately tried to touch Bucky, and he yet again asked for your color.

“Greengreengreengreen just fuck me. Please, I am- I am begging you”.

His fingers plunged inside of you, making you cry out as he stroked your smooth walls. “So gorgeous when you beg, baby. You’ve been so good for me”, the sound of his zipper caught your attention, making you giggle with excitement. He wriggled out of his jeans and shirt, throwing them to the floor next to your ruined panties.

The head of his cock circled your clit as he whispered, “who do you belong to?” The moan that fell from your lips was dirty and deep, but you still managed to breathe a “you”.

At your words, he plunged deep inside of you. His hands found your hips and gripped you tight, digging his fingers into your flesh. A chorus of moans filled the air, and you weren’t sure who they belonged to. Bucky slowed his pace, making sure he rubbed against your g-spot with every stroke. “How’s my girl doing?” he asked breathlessly. He picked up his pace an made you scream, your arms making the restraints clash against the headboard. “G-oh fuck, green!” you screamed feeling every muscle in your body beginning to tense up. Bucky pressed his thumb against your clit, circling it until he pushed you over the edge. You clenched around Bucky’s cock, making his orgasm follow close behind yours.

He caught his breath and pressed a kiss to your neck before swiftly removing your blindfold and freeing you from your restraints. He swept you into his arms and held you against his chest, murmuring praises to you as he stroked your hair. “Well, that was…” you whispered against his chest, “that was something”.

Bucky laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Clearly, I have a thing for you in leather…” he quipped as he eyed the ruined garment sitting in a pile on the floor. He made a mental note to buy you about a hundred more pieces of leather lingerie, and your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Hey, new kink!” you teased. He rolled his eyes at you and left a gentle kiss on your lips before murmuring, “yeah, and I think you’re gonna like what I have planned…”

Nagano Sunrise by Gideon Davidson

— citrus light.

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader (mentions of marc)

genre: pwp, smut

word count: 1.6k

warnings: glove kink, exhibitionism (they do it on the roof but no one sees), vaginal s.ex, dirty talking, rough s.ex, reader is aware of alters and moon knight, creampie, dom!steven, sub!reader

a/n: because i'm obsessed with mr knight

steven grant playlist

You love the city especially at night. 

The way the cold wind brushes the loose strands out of your face, the way it rouses goosebumps across your skin. You love the lights, they remind you of the stars but instead of the sky they decorate the very earth you walk on. You look down on the city from the rooftop, everything seems so tiny. 

It’s rare for Steven to let you join him on a mission, so you savor every bit of it. You generally help him with collecting info, whereabouts and then you just watch him capture the poor fools who think they can escape the vengeance of the moon. Honestly, it’s better than TV. 

You feel his presence and turn on your heel to face him. He’s breathing heavily, a bit of blood scattered across the white gloves of his knuckles. A shudder runs up your spine, Mr. Knight was certainly something else. You’ve met his Moon Knight persona as well; Marc Spector. His costume is also intriguing but it doesn’t make you feel the same way Mr. Knight's clear white suit does. Maybe it’s just because the fact that you know Steven is underneath. Maybe you just have a thing for suits. But whatever the reason is, you were certainly feeling the pulse of your arousal between your legs. 

“Enjoying the view, darling?” 

You swallow and quickly hide your emotions underneath a grin. 

“Maybe,” you roll your tongue. “You got dirty this time,” 

“Happens to the best of us love, can’t help it when they try to run,” 

With that, the stains of blood fade into his suit. Steven walks up to you, backing you against the stone railing of the roof. Your breath catches in your throat when you stagger back, but you have little to worry when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his body. He looks down at you with those bright glowing eyes, you can’t read his expression under the mask. You hate it, but you also love it. Without thinking you raise your hand and place a palm against his covered cheek, he presses his face into the inside of your palm but his eyes never blink. 

“‘Missed you today,” he says, words muffled. “I’m glad you enjoy our little adventures,” 

“Of course.” your hand slides down from his face to his chest. You feel the soft fabric under your fingers, your lips parting with a silent whine. “You know how much I love seeing you in a suit,” 

“I sure do, why else would I bring you here? I need to show off or else what’s the point?” 

“Saving people?” 

“Ah yes, of course. That too. Saving people is always nice,” 

His hand glides down your waist and gently squeezes your ass. He shoves your hips together, you gasp, face feeling hotter by every passing minute. Steven presses his forehead against yours and groans, it’s an animalistic groan, strong enough to have you shaking. His gloved fingers dig into your clothed flesh. He grinds his hips, the feeling of his semi-erect cock against your aching cunt electrifies your every nerve. 

“Collecting the spoils after is als very nice though,” 

“Oh is that how you see me now?” you coo. “A prize to be given after battle? How 33rd century of you, Steven Grant. And here I thought you were better than most,” 

“I am, love,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m simply telling you how beautiful I think you are,” 

“I’m not convinced, you should prove it to me,” 

A choked laughter rips from his throat, he slightly pulls back to get a better look at you. 

“Prove it to you? As in prove it to you right now?” 

You simply bat your eyelashes at him, he seems to understand you perfectly. 

“Oh, naughty,” 

Your world suddenly shifts and you find yourself staring at the city once more. Steven rolls his hips, clothed cock rubbing against the curves of your ass. You brace yourself by putting your hands on the rail but you feel like your knees might give in at any moment. The heat of your bodies pressed together is enough to have you moaning his name, his one arm snakes around your waist while the other travels up your body, his gloved fingers squeezing the sides of your chin. Obediently, you open up and he presses two fingers down against your tongue, feeling the wetness of it between them. 

“Close,” 

Your body shudders at the comment but you obey anyway. Slowly, you close your lips and swirl your tongue around the digits, the taste of leather coats your tongue. His chest rumbles as he breathes. 

“I don’t want you making a lot of noise, love. So you keep sucking on them nice and good, yeah?” 

Steven swiftly tugs down your pants and you groan at the cold air touching the warmth of your legs. He pushes his fingers further down, a warning to be quiet. You take in a sharp breath and swallow around them. Steven presses the blunt tip of his cock against your entrance and teases you by gliding his length between your wet folds. You squirm, the voices coming from your throat becoming louder. 

“Want me to fuck you like this, right here in the open?” he asks, but you know he’s not actually waiting for an answer. “You really like the suit, don’t you? My kinky little princess,” 

Steven pushes in without warning and has you making a mess both around his fingers and cock. Spit drools down the corners of your mouth as you cry out, teeth digging into his fingers. He stays still inside, waiting for you to adjust to him while your cunt twitches and flutters around his length. 

“That’s my good girl, so good for me,” 

He begins to move. 

Steven is a tease in every part of his life but this habit of his becomes ten fold during times like this. He sets a hard, yet slow pace, grinding into you at every third or fourth thrust. He doesn’t rush, making you feel every inch and curve of his cock deep inside of you. Every movement he makes, he makes for you– Your pleasure. The arm he has around your hand slides up and he grabs your breast, squeezing it so hard that you’re screaming but every sound you make is muffled by his fingers. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes across the roof, the pounding of his hips becoming faster, harder. Slick drips down your thighs and leaves dark marks on the ground underneath. Your eyes roll back, your breathing frantic as he pants heavily right next to your ear. You want to kiss him, want to feel him against your lips. Your cunt tightens around him and you begin to make inconhendarable noises so loud that he pulls his fingers out. Steven grabs your chin and turns your head slightly so that you can see a bit of his face, despite fucking you sensless on top of a roof, he was still thinking of your neck. Ever the sweetheart. 

“What is it?” he rasps. “What do you want?” 

You choke out. 

“A kiss, I want to kiss you,” 

The mask suddenly disappears and you see Steven in all his glory– The sheer coating of sweat, the lust in his eyes, the parting of his lips. The mere look is enough to elicit a moan from you, he smiles as he grinds his hips, watching the way your eyes roll back and lips parting even further. He takes this opportunity to press his tongue against yours, you imagine this is what ambrosia tastes like, the food of the gods. He tastes impeccable, he tastes like a dream. Steven sucks your bottom lip and pulls away, then he pushes his fingers right back between your lips. 

Steven begins to slam his hips and your eyelids flutter, your vision becoming blurry as he drills his cock into you. You feel the fabric of the mask against your ear again, his fingers finally leave your mouth and you feel the wetness of them circling your clit. Your thighs tremble, he draws quick circles around the sensitive nub, shots of pleasure shooting throughout your body. A string of curse words falls from your lips, he’s fucking into you quick and hard now, every time your pussy clenches around his lenght, his breath stutters. You’re both so close– 

The coil inside of you snaps, waves of pleasure washing over you as you sob, fat tears rolling down your face. Your hips jerk, cunt gushing out around him as he continues to thrust into you. He works your oversensitive cunt, rocking his hips until he’s the sole thing holding you up– With one more thrust he’s spilling in to you, filling you up as a moan of his own tears away from his lips. His cum comes out in thick ropes, and there’s so much. Your whole body is quivering. 

Steven slowly pulls out of you, cum dribbling down your thighs and making a mess out of your legs. He pulls up your trousers and turns you so you would face him, strong arms wrapping around your figure as he brings you in for a tight embrace. 

“You’re just…so perfect you know that right, love?” 

“I do now,” you chuckle, resting your forehead against his broad chest. “I feel the same way about you too, I hope you know that,” 

“I know,” 

He says that but his voice is hesitant. You decide not to say anything about it, you still had much to do in order for Steven to love himself as much as you loved him. But that’s alright. You have all the time in the world. 

“Want me to take you home now?” 

You nod. 

“Yeah, or else I might just dose of right here,” 

“Well we can’t have that now, can we? You’ll catch a cold.” 

A/N: to be notified of future work follow @burnthoneymintsathenaeum​ and turn on notifications✨

Fit to Burst

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader x Steven Grant

Summary: Marc decides to teach you a lesson when you mistake him for Steven.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: Marc's dirty filthy mouth, Steven's over-eager mouth, Marc is wee bit jealous, cunnilingus, overstimulation, refraction period? — we don't know her, established relationship.

Word Count: 3.5k (I have no excuse, pure self-indulgent filth)

[Tag List and Masterlist]

“Does that feel good, love? Think you can come for me again?” 

You don't know how many orgasms he's pulled from you already. Everything sounds like it’s underwater. You can't tell if it’s Marc or Steven fronting right now. If it's Marc who is talking to you, or Steven, taking you apart inch by inch, one devastating orgasm at a time.

Love. He called you love. Steven calls you love. This must be Steven.

Steven’s lips come to the inside of your thigh, pressing gentle kisses meant to soothe, but the sandpaper brush of his stubble makes everything inside you that more wound up, your nerves raw like everything is going to splinter. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, and the soft caress of his breath is searing against your skin, wreaking havoc on you. The low rumbling of his voice, so uncharacteristic of him, is dipped in hunger and greed, and it skitters up and down your spine until it's difficult to breathe. It's a perfect counterpoint to his surprisingly skilled mouth and fingers on you, to the heat spreading under your skin and building to an explosive pitch between your legs. 

“Want you to come all over my mouth, yeah?” he says, with none of his trademark shyness, before he dives back in, tongue laving at your slick folds.

You can’t help but give him what he wants.

You come, your cunt clenches down, spasming around the thick girth of his fingers where he has you stretched open. Everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss. You are so disorientated that you are almost certain you are floating in zero gravity. You can’t even hear your heartbeat anymore. Can’t feel it thump against the cage of your chest. For all you know it might have stopped entirely. All you’re capable of feeling is an abstract tingling sensation that buzzes pleasantly in your veins.

Then you hear his voice, soft and adoring, from somewhere above. His fingers slip out of you, and you whine--even overwrought as you are, you feel empty at the loss.

There’s a gentle palm with soft-worn calluses stroking down the side of your ribs. Comforting kisses press your thighs, as he murmurs quiet praises about how good you are for him and how pretty you look like this.

You can’t help but snort a laugh at that last bit, not sure what he’s on about because you’re sure you look anything but right now. Your hair is soaked with sweat and clinging to your temple; your face, sticky and clammy. You’re certain you must look a complete mess as you lie here in a shambled heap on your bed. Your vision is so blurred you can barely see the white of your ceiling, but you're still able to make out the man above you, gazing down at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky.

“Think you can give me another one, love? Jus' one more, yeah?”

Fucking hell. This man…  

He doesn’t even give you a moment to gather yourself. You barely have a chance to nod before the saliva-slicked thumb gently presses down on your clit again. For all his sweet cooing and gentle touch and care, he is always merciless in his pursuit to make you come like there’s a prize for him at the end of it. 

"Fucking finally," he huffs under his breath, and if you weren't so completely out of it, you'd tell him it's his own fault for dragging that last orgasm out so long.

As cliche as it sounds, you’re so blissed out of your mind you can’t tell anymore, where the pleasure begins and ends. All you feel is clever fingers already curling inside you again; a greedy hand cupping your breast; a hungry mouth nipping at the hollow of your throat. He’s everywhere, and you spread your legs wider, open yourself up, so he can have every single inch of you. 

The bed shifts, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the watery edges of your vision. After a moment, your eyes finally refocus on the man in front of you. 

He’s kneeling above you, cock in hand, as he gives it a slow lazy stroke that makes your mouth water. A slick sheen of sweat graces the muscular line of his shoulder, bathed in amber gold of your bedroom light.

“You alright, baby? Want me to keep going?” The look in his eyes is as gentle as ever he checks in on you to make sure you’re okay. Makes you feel precious and cared for. 

The only thing you can do is nod.

“You say stop if it gets to be too much,”  he rasps out as lines himself up against you. 

The first thrust is deep and consuming, and you cry out as the perfect stretch of him has white sparks burning behind your eyelids. You’re so worked up, everything makes a little bit less sense; mind almost a little bit numb. You can barely think straight and you think to yourself ironically, this is probably why they call it being cockdumb. 

And it's not being made better by the way that he’s running his fucking mouth. 

"So fucking perfect,” he murmurs into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nips on your ear. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So wet and warm. Fuck, you're so tight right now. Always so tight after you come for us."

He stays there, buried inside you to the hilt to allow you some reprieve and to accommodate around him. You can feel his eagerness to move in the way his cock twitches excitedly inside of you. Can tell he’s resisting that very urge when he grips the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they go bone-knuckled. It strikes heat and pleasure all at once into the pit of your stomach. It’s so good; too much; and it teethers on the edge of the overwhelming. 

A warm hand comes to cup your cheeks. He’s consoling you, brushing away the hair in your eyes, and the touch of it grounds you. “Does that feel good, baby?” 

His eyes are ridiculously gorgeous, deep and rich, you find yourself easily lost in him. All you can see is his sweet half-smile, one corner of his mouth curling upward just for you. All you want to do in your overwrought state of mind is to please him, to praise him on how good he always makes you feel, so you do. 

"So good. Feel so full. No one fucks me like you do, Steven."

He stills. 

From above, you see it, the moment his expression changes. Gone is the indulgent softness. The curl of his full lips turned into a scowl. Those deep rich eyes bleed into sternness fixed with a dark glower. You realise a bit too late that Marc is the one inside you now, not sweet Steven. 

You try to think back. When did his voice change? His accent? His eyes are narrowed instead of wide adoring affection. Everything about his body language is different, must have changed before this, and how stupid is it that you didn’t notice until now? As much as you hate to admit it, you're just a little bit out of it; a little bit come dumb from how the two of them have made you come again and again. 

The next thing you register is the emptiness inside you as he slips almost entirely out of you; until only the blunt tip rests inside you. There’s a look in his eyes, a flash of something determined and almost dangerous, as he adjusts his hips against you. 

There’s no warning as he thrusts all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you. Deep and hard. It strikes something absolutely fucking devastating in you until it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

“Fuckohfuck, Marc!” 

“That's right, baby.” He leans over with his lips to your ear, voice low and dark and demanding as he rolls his hips, and then grinds deep within you. “Say it again. Who fucks you like this?”

Everything’s sharp and bright inside you; the rush of pleasure that comes with every thrust mind-numbing. You don’t know how Marc expects you to give him an answer; can’t even stutter out the ‘you’ that’s right on the tip of your tongue. Instead all that comes out is a pitiful sob. 

"No? Still not good enough for you?” Marc demands. 

You thought at first, with what little brain power was available to you, that he was jealous, and maybe there’s some of that in there too, but there’s something else. Something almost teasing that makes you think he’s not even all that upset about your mistake. The bastard that he is, he just wants to capitalise on the opportunity to push you to your limit. 

“Our girl is so greedy, isn’t she?” he continues mercilessly, ”Always wanting more. How about—" two hands come to rest on the inside of your thighs, lifting you off the mattress until your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he presses the delicious weight of his body on top of yours, folding you nearly in half. "How about this?"

His voice is pure savage glee, a kid that gets to play and pull apart his toy in whatever manner he wants. Your fingers twist into the sheets, trying to grab on tight because it feels like you are falling off the edge of the very world. Then Marc rolls his hips into you at the devastating new angle and it knocks the breath out of your lungs, tipping you past that very edge. 

It doesn't matter that you're ready to repent. Doesn’t matter that you’re trying to moan your explanation in between insistent, merciless strokes. "That's not— fuck, ooooh shit, Marc, I didn’t mean—"

That man is not letting up, and with how hard you came just mere minutes ago, he's already got you so keyed up that you can feel that all familiar pressure and heat settle against the line of your spine with an alarming speed. 

There’s a brief hesitation in his rhythm, like his concentration was broken for a moment, and you catch him glancing at the mirror. You wonder if Steven's there telling Marc to stop. Steven’s always looking out for you; would do anything for you, and that includes taking care of you in bed. But when you turn your head sideways, the mirror shows you the same perfect reflection of reality it always does. 

If Steven's there, you can't see him. Instead, all you can see is the image of yourself being split open by Marc. How Marc towers over you, with his lean stature. The firm muscles on his back sloping down to the generous curves of his ass like he was a carved marble statue meant to depict the ancient Greek deities themselves. Those thick raven curls furl with heat and sweat against his forehead. He’s so fucking beautiful it’s unfair. 

“You looking for Steven to save you?” Firm fingers grip the edge of your jaw, forcing your gaze back towards Marc. “Well too fucking bad. Steven’s not here. You’re stuck with me.”

Alright, nevermind. Definitely jealous then.

Marc’s next thrust drives a strange squeaking noise from your lungs, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren't so far gone. 

"What was that,—” Marc taunts, huffing out a dark laugh between thrusts, “—did you want me—to stop?"

His voice is unbearably smug, and you almost want to tell him to stop just on principle, but fuck that. You don’t want him to stop. Even though it's so fucking much that it borders on the unbearable. You shake your head frantically. You never want him to stop. “That’s what I… thought,” Marc grits out, thrusting hard on the last word.  

He’s driving up against something perfect and molten inside of you, and heat rises up in you like a tide, seething under your skin. You think you might actually be going to come again, but the sensation is immense, nearly unbearable, and you clutch at Marc, whimpering as it threatens to swamp your already overwhelmed and overstimulated system. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright, baby,” he rasps out, not even slowing down. “You can take it, can’t you? Take it for me like a good girl.” Then he tilts your hips up even farther, and that’s it. You’re done. 

Fierce, electric heat explodes outwards, crackling rapturously through your limbs, submerging you entirely until you lose track of reality for a minute. 

When you come back to yourself, Marc is still thrusting into you. The rhythm of it is soothing, drawing out your pleasure in a way you’ve never known before, like you've hit a plateau rather than travelling up and down a mountain. Distantly you note that everything is a slick mess. That you are soaking Marc’s cock with how wet your cunt is for him. You can feel it leaking out of you with every press and retreat of him inside you, dripping down over the curve of your ass onto the bed sheets.

Then, out of nowhere, Marc does stop.  

The sound you make is damn near inhuman. Fuck, why?? Why is he stopping when all you need is more of him? 

Your eyes flutter open to see Marc staring at the mirror, his full attention focused on his reflection. On Steven. 

You don’t know what Steven is saying to him, but whatever it is, has Marc chuckling. 

He turns away from the mirror with a toothy grin full of mischief, and he leans back down towards you, pressing his mouth close so he can whisper in your ear like it's a secret; like Steven can't always hear him no matter how quiet he's being.

“He wants me to fuck you harder. Stretch you all the way open on our cock. Make you come again.”

You have no way of knowing if that’s true or if Marc is just saying that to get a rise out of Steven. You can’t exactly hear Steven’s end of the conversation. But it doesn’t matter, because Marc’s doing it. 

You don’t know if you want to escape the sensation or demand more of it. But you can’t do either. In fact, you seem to have lost control of your body completely. All you can do is shudder and whine under him as Marc follows Steven’s alleged request and pushes himself hard and deep inside of you—oh God, just like that—again and again. 

The pleasure twines and spreads slowly though your heavy limbs until you're completely drunk on the sensation of Marc's cock driving into you. He’s reduced you to a heap of bones, flesh and skin without any sentient thought left in your brain. Until you have lost all other sensation to the point where you almost miss the way that Marc is murmuring a string of filth into your ear. 

“That’s right, baby. You’re not done yet.” 

You can’t look away from him, the way that sweat is dripping down his collarbone, the mesmerising rise and fall of his chest as his breath is rasping in and out of his lungs. 

“Gimme one more,” he says. “You come on my cock one more time, then I’ll fill you up. Make a mess of you, and Steven can clean you up with his tongue.” 

This man is the devil. 

You don’t know what that makes you when you’re so aroused by the picture he’s painting for you. 

You’re exhausted. Every inch of you feels tender. You have been strummed and plucked and pushed over the edge again and again until all of you has become one single raw overwrought nerve. At this point you’re not even sure you’re physically capable of coming again. But still, white heat sparks and cracks and invades your numb limbs until you’re thrumming with it.

He's rutting into you, hips in an uneven jerking place, grinding as if he needs to get deeper, as deep inside you as he can to stake his claim and never leave. And fuck, you wish he could. You want him to fuck you like this forever and never stop.  

Your cunt flutters around the thick girth of him involuntarily, and it does something to Marc too. He gasps and swears, hips stuttering forward into you, and it's almost enough.... almost... almost...

"Marc..." your voice breathy, pleading, barely recognizable to your own ears.

"Fuck," Marc huffs out. His hips stutter in its pace. If you didn’t know any better, from the way he closes his eyes for a brief moment, as if to gather himself, you’d think his trademark control is slipping. But then he seems to rally himself and pulls back, almost all the way out.

You clutch at him. If he stops now, if he dares to deny you, you swear to god, you will actually kill this man, or failing that, die on the spot in protest. Your fingers digging into the firm meat of his shoulders, sobbing his name. You need—more, need everything, need him, need to— 

“Shh,” he hushes you with a soothing coo, comforting fingers brushing back the sweat-slicked hair clinging to your forehead. “I'm right here, baby. Let go, I've got you.”

His tone doesn’t match his actions. Marc thrusts back in, driving so deep you can fucking taste it, and you dimly realize that you're screaming as the pleasure streaks outward, tearing your world apart.

It’s a flickering light that is dimming and finally dies out from the surge of electricity. Your brain completely loses all higher functions and all that is left is the rush of heat that spreads all over you. It pours and pours until you’re lightheaded and the whole room spins with it. Everything feels blissfully tight; too much and just enough. Then you come.

When you open your eyes, you see those gorgeous dark eyes rolling back, baring the long line of his throat and it’s a beautiful fucking sight. The sharp edge of his jaw, pink pouty lips all shiny and slick from you. You swear those thick sweat soaked curls glisten in the dim light. He’s so ridiculously gorgeous, you can hardly believe he is real. 

Marc isn’t far behind you. His cock pulses, spilling warm heat inside of you with a strained moan. Every muscle in him goes rigid against you. 

Then Marc collapses onto you, arms wrapped all around you as he lands on top of you on the bed, his firm weight resting on top of you. Both of you are a boneless and sweaty tangled heap against the mattress. His firm chest is pressed against you, so close the beat of his heart is hammering against your skin. 

In the silence of your bedroom, your harsh, panting breaths echo as if you just finished the most harrowing marathon of your lives. There’s a gentle hand stroking the plane of your back. It’s so gentle, the touch of it so adoring that you’re not sure if it’s Marc or Steven, but you don’t think it matters much at all.  

As you come down, your senses slowly flicker awake. You can feel the soft gentle comfort of a reassuring touch running along your thighs. A warm hand petting you over the wideness of your hip bones, soft stroking caresses to coax you back down from your high. 

Eventually, your breaths slow, and he pushes himself up, and away from your chest with shaky arms, until you can see his soft gorgeous face that is practically glowing as he smiles down at you. Utterly boyish, utterly charming. 

Steven, you realise. Steven’s back…

“You alright there, love? Was Marc too rough?” His thick brows knit together in worry. An expression of guilt bleeding into his handsome face. 

In your exhaustion, you find yourself still breathless as you try to answer him, “Yeah. No, I’m alright,” you pause, and lower your voice, feeling suddenly, inexplicably shy. “I… I liked it."

At your response, that worried expression breaks out into a beaming grin that makes your heart leap and skip several beats with unadulterated fondness. 

“Good. That’s good, yeah.” 

Steven is a fucking sight onto himself. Your eyes trail downwards, from his chest, that’s glistening with sweat down to his torso and— bloody fucking hell. Your eyes widen at the sight. You don’t even know how, but Steven’s already hard again or maybe he just never went down for the count at all. His other hand is fisting his cock, a slick mess of white lines of cum that’s dripping down the aching length of him as it twitches and jumps with undeterred eagerness. 

“Then, um…. Sorry to ask, but do you think…” It’s Steven’s turn to look down bashfully, then back up at you. His cheeks are flushed with a deep pink; hair, a tousled mess with a pleading expression in his eyes, that you cannot possibly turn down.

“Do you think we could go again? …please?”

Dear fucking God, these men. Steven may be all sweet and polite about it, but deep down he’s just as greedy and demanding as Marc. Maybe worse. 

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive these two, but you’re going to enjoy the ride. 

Dedication and Credits:

@krissology for chasing her dreams with such boundless courage and gumption, I'm forever proud to have a friend like her who is so absolutely fucking fierce and fearless. She's one of the most talented writers I've come across and she is publishing her debut novel Forget Me Now, available for pre-order here. Go support this brilliant human being, you won't regret it.

@thirstworldproblemss to my most beloved and brilliant co-writer, who stays up with me all night and all day to prawn like no one has prawn ever before. I never have more fun than when I am in a google doc with you, screaming about the beauty of this man and writing out the exact same suggestions to each other at the same time.

@frannyzooey for succeeding to make me cry on a Tuesday afternoon in the office with her kind words and support. You're someone that I'm endlessly proud to call a friend, for your humour, your kindness and your warmth. You are just one of the best humans and I hope you wake up everyday and know that and if you don't, I will remind you everyday.