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day 7: bath sex - rick flag.

warnings: f!reader. 18+ ONLY. i mean... the obvious - bath sex, unprotected p in v, the way this man physically makes me clench

a/n: 747 words. obviously not day 7 but we're rolling with the punches coz life. haven't written for ricky in a long while so this was nice. enjoy! x

The floor is probably flooded by now, but you can’t bring yourself to care. How can you? He feels too fucking good, all thick muscle and hot, slick skin sliding against yours with every move of his body.

His broad frame covers you and pushes you back into the side of the tub, each heavy thrust into you causing the remaining warm water to slosh up against the edges and spill out onto the tile floor. God, there's barely any water left—

He shifts your leg, hitches it higher on his hips and thrusts deeper, his cock hitting somewhere so deliciously deep within you it physically tears the breath from your lungs.

You don’t fucking care about the water.

All that matters is the way he fills you, stretches you; the way he feels, muscles rippling under your hands and the way his groans melt into your tongue.

“Yeah, this really isn’t workin', darlin’,” Rick breathes into your mouth, teeth tapping lightly against yours as an indulgent grin spreads across his lips.

It’s not the most comfortable of positions, and he’s damn sure your back will have something to say about the way you’re laying in a few hours. The tub barely fits him, let alone the both of you…

You make a noise of denial, your brows coming together as your nails drag along his shoulders in an effort to bring him closer, swallowing down the pleased groan that falls from his throat.

“It’s—fuck, baby—it’s fine,” you babble, lost in the way his cock rubs against your walls and desperate to keep him right where he is. “This is fine –”

“‘Fine’?” He teases in a low growl, nipping at the tender skin of your throat and pinning you firmer against the ceramic, his hands curling around the icy cool edges in an attempt to find purchase.

He drags his hips against yours with an upward thrust, his pubic bone rubbing along your aching clit and bringing a flood of fire along your nerves.

“Good,” you spit through a moan, the unforgiving pressure against the swollen nerve causing your walls to clench and flutter around him. “So good, so fucking good—”

“Yeah?”

The gruff rumble of the word dissolves against your lips as his mouth captures your own, his tongue sweeping along your lower lip and sliding languidly along yours before something hungrier takes hold.

He consumes you, practically drinks you down like a man starved and the ferocity of it settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach, increasing the already out of control fire raging through your system.

"God I've missed you, missed this—" he groans roughly, breaking away from your mouth to look at the way you writhe and moan with each drive of his hips.

You nod along to his words despite being barely coherent, your fingers grasping at the slick skin of his back as his large, calloused hand splays at the base of your throat. There's power behind his touch as it moves up along your skin, his fingers briefly flexing around the width of it before it meets your jaw.

He smooths a thumb over your mouth, rolling the soft flesh of your lips beneath his touch, almost to commit the plush feel of them to memory.

Lips soon replace the rough pad and you lose yourself to another earth shattering kiss, relishing in the feel of his tongue dragging along yours and how it has your cunt tightening around him as he slams into you.

"M-missed you... gone so long—"

"I know," he soothes into your mouth, his deep tone like molten honey. "You've got me all weekend... will you let me make it up to you, darlin'?"

He's already doing a damn good job of that.

With a mastered precision only your focused Colonel could have, every thrust he focuses on your throbbing clit and hitting that wickedly sweet spot deep within your walls until stars start to frame your vision and the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh starts to bounce off the tile walls.

You're so fucking close and he knows it, his lips turning up against your throat.

"Gon—fu—ck... gonna make you work for it, Flag," you moan brokenly, each and every muscle winding and tightening in anticipation as he drags you further and further towards your blissful end.

His chuckle melts into your ear, "Is that right? Well you know I like a challenge. Come on, baby—show me what I've been missin'."

-

Reminder: taglists will not be used for kinktober. I’m tagging every fic with #foliskink22 if you want to follow along for the ride!

reading a day keeps reality away

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.”

+

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Loud and clear- Rick Flag

Fandom: DC, suicide squad

Pairing: Rick Flag X F!Reader

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

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

WC: 5.4k i really just hate myself for this

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

Bloodbath

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Loud and clear, Colonel.”

one last trip.

Rick Flag x F!Reader

SUMMARY: On a dark and quiet morning, you say goodbye to your husband as he leaves for his next assignment.

Melancholy Fluff. Dad!Rick. Mom!Reader. Possible ‘The Suicide Squad (2021)’ Spoilers. Slight Angst.

CLINTS-LUCKY-ARROW MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST BLOG: @clints-lucky-reblogs

Words: 1.2k

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated.

He stands silhouetted by the gentle light of the morning. It’s grey outside. The sky churns with the wound burden of storm, and an undercurrent of chill passes through everything. Leaning in the doorframe, you adjust your robe a little more firmly around your body, watching him in silence.

Rick doesn’t seem to feel the prickle of your eyes against the nape of his neck, nor the cold that the air holds. Your eyes trail down the tattoos on his back, admiring the lean lines of muscle that you’ve come to know so well. They lift when a fist - small and chubby and definitely not his own - rises past the set of his shoulders, and waves clumsily in the air. A soft coo breaks the silence, and your lips twist into a sad smile.

Keep reading

Hiiiii I love your Steven x reader fanfic u really deserve all the followers, it’s really well made.

Well I wanted to see if I could request a smut, since I’ve fell practically in love with the character of Steven, I wan te d to ask if u could write a fanfic where he is really submissive and shy, and the fem reader is more like dominant and teasing with him.

Nothing more, I will let you do the rest, I know u will amaze me either way. Thank u so muchhh

Devotion || Steven Grant x Reader

-> Rating: 18+

-> Word count: 2.8k

-> Steven’s late night routine of solving the Rubik’s cube has become somewhat of a guilty pleasure of yours. [ I hope that you enjoy this fic that I wrote! Thank you so much for your support and love on my previous fics, and entrusting me to write this idea. Big thanks to @foxilayde for beta reading and editing, I love you! ❤️]

TW/CW: Can you tell I have an Oscar Isaac hand kink? Sub!Steven and SoftDomme!Reader. Fingering, use of the word ‘Mistress’. Yet another relatively mild fic for me!

Shk, shk, shk.

The sound pulls your attention from the poetry book that you borrowed from Steven’s shelf of miscellaneous works to keep yourself busy. It wasn’t often that your concentration was compromised by noise, after all, you had been sitting beside the fish tank. The buzzing of the filter and the trickle of running water pushed to the back of your mind as you read through each sonnet.

Usually, when you participate in something you enjoy, such as reading, you find it hard to shake your undivided attention. Steven once commented that “bombs could blitz London for the first time in almost eighty years, and you would still insist upon finishing the page”. He certainly wasn’t wrong- there is a discipline to your leisure time. It’s not often you can carve out a moment of peace for yourself.

The sound of Steven solving a Rubik’s Cube over and over though? That is something you simply can not ignore.

Perhaps it’s obscene for you to find such a mundane thing so intensely *erotic*. You can’t help but be captivated by the way his nimble fingers rotate each layer of colored blocks with such practised speed. His gaze is intense as he navigates the cube, though you know he doesn’t need to study it so closely: Steven’s skills are such that he can solve it without even looking.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t control the urge. Your eyes leave the pages of poetry that had captivated your attention, and instead focus on something a lot more aesthetically pleasing and less mentally taxing. Your pupils seem to drag your vision towards the scene in front of you entirely against your will. To the shk shk shk.

Upon seeing it though, you can’t exactly say you regret yielding to your compulsions. Steven’s head rests back against a navy blue pillow, sprawled across his bed in a white cotton T-shirt and grey boxers, bathed in the silver moonlight that leaks across the mattress from the window that he had left open in order for you to read- despite you insisting that the light from the fish tank was sufficient enough. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks absently at the ceiling, his mind clearly elsewhere.

The sight is stunning, but your eyes zero-in on something even more engrossing. Steven balances the edge of the Rubik’s cube on the meat of his right palm, holding the little puzzle and solving it single-handedly. The joints of his fingers bend and crease as he reaches across the width of the plastic cuboid; tanned knuckles turning a pale shade with the stretch and the pressure as he turns the selected row to its desired position.

In the low lighting, the veins in the back of his hand are a pale greeny-blue colour against his olive skin and they stretch down to the joint of his wrist. His metacarpal bones protrude under his skin with certain movements, before disappearing back into his flesh upon his return to a less strenuous hand position.

Upon completing the puzzle, Steven’s stunning coffee-colored eyes glance down at the cube. He pinches opposite corners with his thumb and forefinger, rotating the game with his middle fingertip on an axis to assess and ensure that each of the colours are settled in their relevant groups. When satisfied, he undoes all of the work, scrambling the rows, this time with two hands, and beginning again with his head settled against the pillow as he stares at the beige ceiling.

“Steven?” You sound his name. It feels odd in your dry mouth, as though the syllables don’t fit between your lips. There’s a pulse thrumming in your chest and between your thighs as you feel your composure begin to slip.

Steven doesn’t hear you, your voice barely surpassing the volume of a whisper. Instead, the shk, shk, shk of the cube rows falling into place answer you in your expectant silence. The pad of his thumb strokes down the ridge of the cuboid with gentle precision and it’s enough to push you over the edge.

“Steven.”

The springs of Steven’s mattress creak slightly as his body jolts upright, shocked out of his concentration. There’s nothing on earth that could prevent him from focusing on you when you use *that* tone of voice with him. The kind that ramps up his blood pressure tenfold and straightens his spine to attention.

“Yes?” He responds cautiously, not entirely sure what he had done to deserve that timbre of voice. His eyes settle on your face, searching for some understanding of just how he had turned the atmosphere in the room without even realising it.

“Are you intentionally teasing me?” You ask him, tone even once again as you close the book that had settled in your lap. You don’t bother to bookmark the sonnet Steven had ‘interrupted’, the poem abandoned amongst the pages as you return to its rightful place on the bookshelf. Like a child with a Christmas present in April, it no longer held your attention. You’ve been gifted something far more fun to play with.

The panic that settles into Steven’s expression makes you feel as though your blood is fizzing beneath your skin.

“Tea- No! No, I wouldn’t dream of it, I- Have I been doin’ something wrong?” He stumbles over his words as he tries to justify a crime he didn’t even know he was committing. He drops the Rubik’s cube blindly on his bedside table, unintentionally showing his utter devotion to pleasing you. You know that Steven would throw himself at your feet and praise you until his knees bled if that was what you desired.

Standing with effortless grace from your chair, you’re careful to articulate that preeminence throughout the subtle movements of your body as you pass the floor towards the bed. The barely-there sway of your hips that makes Steven’s eyes follow the motion with his eyes left and right like a pendulum is how you know you’ve got him.

“I think… you got tired of me not paying attention to you, so you decided you were going to show me how quick those fingers are. I think,” you reach his side of the bed and bend slightly to rest your hands on the duvet. “You were trying to show off.” You point out with a playfully accusatory tone. Steven sits up in bed, staring up at you with painfully innocent eyes.

“No, I- just the puzzles, help me stay up…” Steven is quick to try to correct the record, motioning haphazardly around the room when he trails off, as if wordlessly filling in the gaps left in his answer: that staying awake keeps Marc at bay.

“Oh, they help you… stay up, huh?” You teasingly muse, eyes dragging down the length of his body in an attempt to make him even more jittery. It works.

“Oh no- bollocks- not like that!” You love seeing him struggle to form the words, to explain himself. You know it’s because he’s thinking of all the things you could do to him if he said yes. His words won’t leave his throat because pictures of you have infested his mind make him slow to form coherent sentences of explanation.

“Then what? Tell me, Steven. What is it like?” You whisper, quickly shifting the mood of the room again by taking hold of Steven’s face. His chin is cupped by your palm, perfectly manicured fingers pressing into the soft flesh of his cheeks and forcing his lips to purse. He looks adorable this way, owly-eyed and cheeks flushed as he hears your voice drop an octave.

His cheeks radiate heat and his eyes are cast low, down in his lap, as he finally answers. His voice is soft, words a little slurred and mispronounced with the awkward grip you have on his face, pushing the inside of his cheeks into the sides of his teeth. “‘S whatever you like, Mistress.” It takes you a little by surprise, the readiness Steven has to submit to your will, so much so that a long moment of silence washes over the two of you.

In the quiet, Steven doesn’t move an inch, eyes stuck to his lap as he impatiently awaits your answer. His body is board-stiff like his spine has been glued in place, and his face burns a light mahogany. It’s hard not to become engrossed by the image, to want to take a photo of the way his lips are smushed together in your grip. He’s so pretty like this.

“Mistress can think of a much better use for your fingers. Don’t you agree, Steven?” You ask, loosening your fingers and brushing your thumb against the curve of his cheekbone, allowing him to nod in earnest. You’ll forgive him for not responding verbally, for not using honorifics. This time. His eyelashes flutter as his iris’ flick back up to your face. He looks at you like you’ve offered him a winning lottery ticket when you release your grip. “Get to work, then.”

Steven reaches for you swiftly, nodding his head with enthusiasm as he anchors his hands on your hip bones. He doesn’t pull you towards him as you had expected, instead he pushes you back, forcing you to take a few steps in order to put some space between you and the bed.

“What are you doing? I asked you to use your fingers.” You question gently, and Steven climbs from the mattress onto the sandy, hardwood floor. He’s on his knees in front of you as he pulls the waistband of your pyjama shorts down over your otherwise naked hips and helps you step out of the discarded clothing. The realisation that you’re not wearing any panties causes him to whimper and the sound causes heat to pool in your abdomen.

Failing to answer immediately, Steven’s fingers wrap around your calf. He massages the muscle while gently lifting your thigh over his shoulder. Your heel is pressing into his spine and his other palm is careful to steady the foot on which you are balanced by resting a firm hand just above the back of your straight knee. “I wanna watch what I’m doin’ Mistress.”

Before you’re even able to fully digest exactly what Steven had meant, he’s sweeping those deft fingers through your hot, slick folds. The pleasure that rips through you so suddenly makes your quiet moan of bliss sound so distant. Your knees tremble as he drags the length of his index finger, tip to knuckle, across your clit, and you find yourself scrambling to grab ahold of his curls in a desperate attempt to steady yourself.

“Ohh~” You gasp breathlessly, head tilting backward as the spark of ecstasy skits down your spine from the base of your neck to the tips of your toes. Steven’s fingers are delicate, his finger joints adding an extra layer of sensation as they pass over your clit with an effortlessness akin to the way his fingers work that fucking Rubik’s cube.

“This good, Mistress?” Steven asks softly as he daintily sweeps the tips of his fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingerprints before using the lubrication to circle your clit in quicker, smoother circles. He knows how you love it when he calls you that, always using the softest, neediest voice when he speaks each syllable.

You struggle to think of a response, as though every possible answer, verbal or otherwise, has entirely slipped your mind. The hazy defocusing of your vision is disorientating- your eyes are crossing and you no longer know north from south, left from right.

Steven craves verbal validation, you know this well, but you can’t grant him a “good boy”, not with the way his fingers twirl you with a shk shk shk and undo you like a puzzle.

The only thing you have to offer him in return for his skilled efforts is the validating grip of your shaking hands in his ebony locks.

Under any other circumstances, Steven’s face being so close to your cunt without eating you out would be embarrassing. But when you glance down at him, double vision slowly focusing on his expression, you can’t help but note the reverence that blooms in his irises as he gazes at your pussy. He is watching with rapt interest- your clit, your folds, your puffy throbbing flesh, all gleaming with slick in the moonlight.

Steven always manages to make you feel worshipped without uttering a single prayer (though he is on his knees now). His eyes are evidence enough of his utter devotion and admiration. He would never allow you to think for even a second that you were not divine.

“St-Steven,” you gasp as his finger continues its steady, circular motions that pull your pleasure tighter, “Inside.”

There’s a hesitation in the repetitive sweep of your clit.

“In... side- what? In- I don’t…”

His halting voice voice drops slowly like syrup dripping from a pot as you take ahold of his wrist. He’s playing with you, acting innocent, and you don’t have a single fuck to give that he’s flipping the game, flipping you like a cube in his palm, You tilt his hand by pushing on the meat of his palm with your thumb, angling his fingers just right where you’re soaking, where his fingertips slip inside of you to feel the source of your need.

“Oh-… Ohh. Yeah- You mean…”

You swear, you swear you see a self satisfied smile behind Steven’s eyes as he works his fingers inside of your cunt ever so slowly, teasing the give of your walls around his digits. He can feel your cunt flutter around him, your quads trembling under his palm where he continues to hold your unsteady body upright.

Hips rocking forward onto his knuckles, you whine softly in a wordless attempt to tell Steven ‘yes, just like that, you’re doing so good’. Spurred on by the little noises that leak from your throat, he curls his fingers inside you, searching for that spot that sparks stars behind your eyes, the spot that he knows is going to buckle your knees.

“Like this?” He asks softly, looking between your eyes and your glistening cunt. You know he doesn’t need to ask, the bliss is written across your expression in the form of your mouth pulled into a weak ‘o’ shape and your eyes rolling back into your skull as the bone of his knuckle presses up against your clit weakly. He’s being cheeky. You’ll remember this.

For now, though, you’re entirely helpless to the swell of your orgasm that he raises so easily from your cunt. The slip of his fingers through your folds, the wet punctuating rhythm is violent in your ears as you teeter on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm. Breathing raggedly at the ceiling, your head tilts back, bending your body in a half-heart arc and your toes curl into the delineating sand.

“S-Steven-“ you gasp weakly, thighs beginning to shake as he eases the orgasm out of you with such practised elegance- that it feels like a complete separation from his nervous, innocent personality. It’s moments like this, with his thumb pressed to your clit, and deft strong strokes twisting inside you, that you thank Marc for Steven’s subconscious skills because you’re cumming.

You’re cumming, and it’s blinding. White flashes across your eyes, almost like tv static as the image of Steven watching you come apart between your knees blurs before you, then doubles. It’s impossible to tell in the throes of your orgasm, but tears are building and spilling from your eyes. Steven’s fingers are drenched as they work you through each wave, the wet sucking sounds of his fingers guiding your cunt through the gates of heaven bounces off the walls of the moonlit flat.

Realisation that his free hand had been the only thing to keep your feet steady sinks in as the roiling pleasure fades to a simmer. Steven presses his palm to the small of your back, no doubt stopping you from falling backward in your rapture. Perhaps you should expect nothing less, but the small action makes your heart swell at the knowledge that he’ll always look after you.

“Hah…” Your chest heaves as you chase air with the expansion of your lungs. Each dose of oxygen adds to the afterglow that seems to settle so deep in your body and coats your bones like honey. “Aren’t I more fun to play with than some puzzle cube?” The joke makes Steven grin, his eyes crease in the corners the way they only do when he hears or sees something he truly finds funny.

“More easy to solve, too.” he chuckles, stroking his knuckles down the insides of your thighs in a gentle action to ease you down from the clouds he had catapulted you to. He looks so pretty for you like this, on his knees with a soft blush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose-

Wait. What?

You slap his shoulder playfully, limbs limp with exhaustion. “Take that back!”

He kisses the top of your thigh tenderly, “Only joking, mistress.”

The way he runs his nose softly along the top of your thigh is a stark contrast to the bulge in his boxers and the wet patch in the fabric where his cock had leaked precum: the side effects of taking you apart and putting you back together again.

“I think it’s my turn to play with you.” You murmur softly, caressing the curve of his cheekbone and pushing your fingers through his curly locks with a smile. “On the bed, baby. Let’s see if Mistress can’t make you cum one-handed too.”

END

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