Fashion Choices
Pairing: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader
Summary: You've been giving Steven a hard time about his wardrobe lately. It's not that you don't like when he wears a collared shirt on top of another collared shirt, you just want him to try new things. Then him and Marc decide to tease you about it. Big mistake. Huge. // Chapter 1 is only with Steven. Chapter 2 will be for Marcy-Marc
Tags: Sharing Clothes × Lingerie × Teasing × Established Relationship × Pure Smut × Sub Steven Grant (Marvel) × If You Squint × Dom/sub Undertones × Masturbation × p in v × Enthusiastic Consent × Breeding Kink × No use of y/n × Woman on Top × for the majority of it lol × Multiple Orgasms × Unprotected Sex × Rough Sex
Words: 2.8k
Ao3 link
Steven has a lot of collared shirts. Like, a lot of them.
“You dress like a lesbian,” you tell him one day, laughing when you see that he's layered one of his button ups on top of another collared shirt.
He scoffs. “I can’t believe you just said that to me during Pride month.”
He manages to dodge the book thrown at his head, but he isn't able to dodge your questions after that.
“Why did I find another collared shirt in your bag?” you ask, showing him the reusable bag he'd brought to the shop earlier that day.
He pouts. “That’s for Marc.”
You can’t help but smile at him. He’s adorable. “Nice try. Marc almost exclusively wears crew necks.”
He doesn't meet your eyes. “Jake, then.”
“Jake dresses like a newsie in 1920’s New York.”
Steven groans. “Would you deny me my comforts, woman?” He pulls you into his lap, peppering kisses to your face that make you scream and laugh, trying to escape.
“I just want you all to try branching out!”
His eyes roll back into his head, Marc staring back at you now, intense as always. “Why would we want to do that?” he asks, pressing searing hot kisses into your neck.
The sudden shift in persona and mood makes you dizzy. You don't know if you'll ever get used to them doing that.
You gasp softly, grabbing onto the crinkly-soft fabric of Steven-Marc's starchy shirt.
“Marc,” you murmur, letting him trail a hand down your side. You haven't seen him in a while, and he’s clearly happy to see you, based on the way he's insistently pressing himself into you.
“Baby,” he mumbles back, licking a line up your neck to your earlobe, a white hot spike of arousal shooting down to your clit. You arch against him, letting him lift you and press you into the table, his hand riding up your shirt and teasing a nipple. You can feel how wet he’s making you, the way only your boys can. He laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand, ducks down to kiss your neck again-
Then, he stills. “Anyway, lots of work to do today, love. Better hop to it!”
Steven pulls away from you and grabs his stuff, leaving you stunned and frustratingly horny as he heads towards the door.
“W-wh-” you stutter.
“Don’t question my fashion choices!” he shouts, letting the door shut behind him. You narrow your eyes, huffing.
Oh, he’s in for it now.
__
Your boys aren't coming over until later. It’s been two days since the Steven-Marc situation, and you won’t even let them sext you. The moment anything remotely sexual starts up, you shut it down. They’re getting restless. Steven especially. He’s always been particularly needy.
The boutique owner had been terribly nice when you'd explained your situation (minus the “my boyfriends’s’s are a superhero/Avatar/legendary warrior with multiple personality disorder” detail). You’d picked out the prettiest piece together, a delicate lace thing with more modest coverings for your private areas. Something that would drive Steven perfectly crazy.
“If I’ve done my job right, this won't survive the night,” she promised.
You’re slightly fidgety. You've never worn something this complicated before. Nothing for the express purpose of getting fucked.
It doesn't matter, really. Your boys can't resist you. That’s what's going to make this so much fun.
One of Steven’s many button ups is covering your lingerie, which had taken twenty minutes of cursing for you to put on. It’s a soft, purple shirt, your personal favorite. He’d been wearing it the first time you met.
You’re reading a book, or trying. You’ve been skimming the same page over and over in nervous anticipation ever since you got the text he’s almost at your flat.
He knocks on the door, and you answer in nothing but his shirt, your hair done in the way you know he loves. He always makes a comment when you wear it like this, so you made sure it was perfect before he came over.
He kind of just stares at you for a minute, taking you in. Then, something happens, something you've only seen a few times before. They start fighting over the body.
“I don’t- she clearly. This is- Marc. Steven. You-Why d-I- Jake, if you don't- Why can’t I, guys-”
He’s saying this all softly, eyes closed in concentration. You don't want to touch him. You don't want him to have a panic attack, and then have your attempt at revenge/seduction turn into something traumatic.
Finally, he settles, and Steven looks at you with wide, wet eyes.
“Is this- for me?” He swallows hard, looking at the way the fabric drapes over your body, just a little too big for you. You nod sweetly, leading him to bed.
He lies back at your insistence, staring up at you in awe as you straddle him, smiling teasingly.
His hand starts to slide up your thigh, but you swat at it.
“No touching,” your murmur, starting to unbutton yourself for him. He nods, swallowing again.
As the beginnings of your surprise are revealed, you realize he might not be the only one who has a problem with this no touching rule.
They’re fighting over the body again.
“If you’d just- Steven, look at her, I can’t- Stop.” Steven says firmly. You quirk an eyebrow.
“Everything alright in there?”
He nods, looking slightly miffed. “Just- you look really, really good, love. Really good. Don’t feel like sharing right now.”
You blush, then wiggle a little. Steven hisses, clenching his hands into fists. Fuck, he's already hard.
He whines when you finish unbuttoning the shirt, letting the fabric pool at your elbows, letting him drink his fill of your new outfit.
He’s slack jawed, mindlessly moving his hips against you. “Fuck,” he whimpers, letting the word trail off into a growl that ends deep in his throat.
His hands are getting fidgety, so you take the opportunity while he’s distracted to grab onto his wrists and pin them next to his head.
“You’re right Steven,” you purr. “I do actually like your shirts. Maybe I’ll wear them more often.”
He throws his head back, groaning. “I knew that's what this was bloody about, you little minx.”
You laugh, grinding down again bodily and making him gasp.
“That’s what you get for being a fucking tease. You can touch when I’m done with your punishment.”
If Steven’s eyes weren't so dark, you're sure you'd be able to see how his pupils are blown wide with lust. He looks ravenous, depraved. You haven't even kissed him.
“Yes,” he murmurs, even as he struggles against your grip.
You let him go, and hum happily when his hands stay in place.
You unbutton his pants, licking your lips as you pull out his cock, hard and leaking for you. You smear a pearl of precome weeping from the tip, relishing the sounds he makes.
You lean down, letting the crotch of your lingerie grind over his hard length. “You’re so mean to me sometimes, Steven. Just wanted to be a little mean back. Give you a taste of your own medicine.”
He whimpers. “Not trying to be mean. Just-just-”
“Just?” you ask, slowing down until he gasps and his hands twitch.
“Just wanted to prove a point,” he finishes lamely, arching his back so he can press up into you. You tsk at him, but allow it.
“Wanna take this off, pretty boy?” you ask, running your hands over the lace covering your plush breasts.
He nods frantically, craning his neck up so he can see a little better, get a little closer. You push him down with one hand, increasing the friction on your clit while you press a chaste kiss to his mouth.
“Later. Good boys get to undress me,” you hum, grinding down and chasing the rush of him pressing against your most sensitive spot. His eyes flutter shut, finally surrendering to you.
“Steven,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth, traveling down his neck and sucking marks into his skin.
He grunts a response, too far gone to really answer you. You leave your tongue over the salt-heat of him, listening to his rattling breaths and stuttering heartbeat.
“You’re doing so good,” you murmur against his neck. “My good boy.”
His hips jerk violently against you, and you stop moving completely. He freezes.
“I’m sorry,” he says frantically, but it's too late.
“Nope,” you say, popping the p. You spread your legs, hovering over him and moving your panties to the side so you can rub your clit.
Steven’s mouth hangs open, devastated yet unbelievably turned on.
“Now you get to watch me come,” you say, gathering some of the wetness leaking from his tip to soften the friction. “And you can't do anything about it.”
He whines, shutting his eyes closed and growling in frustration. You spread yourself wider, letting your legs rest on the tops of his thighs.
Steven loves making you come. With his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Masturbating in front of him is still hot, but it frustrates him more than anything that he’s not the one making you feel good. Little does he know, the sight of him all hot and bothered is usually what gets you there faster. Like right now.
You feel it starting to bubble up, a deliciously warm orgasm that you’ve been depriving yourself of for days since the shirt incident. It takes a little while, but you finally peak, your fingers bringing you to completion at the sight of Steven Grant, helpless and completely distraught underneath you.
You lean forward until you're burying your face in his neck again, your thigh muscles still contracting pleasantly.
Steven hesitates, his hands moving from where they're meant to be to gently hold your waist. You purr, nuzzling into him so he knows he has permission. You're much more agreeable now that you know he’s suffered sufficiently enough.
He kicks his pants off the rest of the way, still gentle, careful not to disturb you in your good mood. You move a little, unbuttoning his shirts until the smooth expanse of his chest is warm under your palm.
“We’re matching,” you murmur happily. He chuckles nervously, one hand moving to cup the lace covering your bottom.
“This for me?”
You nod. “Don’t question my fashion choices,” you say, nipping at his ear lobe.
“Of course not. Never,” he says, running a hand over your garter belt appreciatively.
He reaches behind to move your panties aside, dipping shaking fingers into the wetness you’ve made for him. “Fuck,” he whispers, practically throbbing against you.
“You can go ahead,” you tell him, yawning. “Want you to. Want you inside, Steven.”
“Fuck,” he says a little louder, grabbing his cock where it's trapped between your bodies and sliding it between your legs to bring it home.
He lets out a breath he's been holding in, and you bloom under his fingers, legs widening to accommodate his girth. You’ve had enough teasing, and it looks like Steven has too.
He fucks you at a brutal pace, whining and gasping into your hair while you press sloppy kisses into his jaw.
“So good,” you whisper, encouraging him. “So good. My Steven.”
“I- hah, love you. Fuck.” The easy glide of him inside you isn't enough to make you come again quite yet, but you give a valiant effort. You suck at the tender spot under his ear, the one you know drives him crazy, and his hips stutter.
“Pretty girl, wearing my clothes and putting on nice things. Don’t deserve you, do I? So good to me,” he murmurs into your ear, one arm holding you close while he uses his other hand to push down on your lower back, using you as his little cocksleeve.
“Steven,” you gasp, grinding down harder onto him until you feel blissfully over sensitive, the fabric of his shirts rubbing against your skin while he fucks you hard, the way he’s been waiting to for days.
He groans out your name before he bites down on your neck. You mewl, bearing down on him before you sit back so you can ride Steven properly. He hangs onto your thighs for dear life as you move in earnest, pulling off him fully before slamming back down onto the length of him.
He brings his hands up to cup at the intricate lace designs covering your breasts, snapping the strap of your bra before he thrusts into you so hard that you can feel him in your guts.
“Fuck, can’t get enough of this little pussy,” he says, watching himself disappear into your tight heat. He moves a hand down, pressing a thumb to your abused clit and making you black out a little.
“S-Steven,” you stutter, no longer able to conjure competent speech, not when he touches you like that.
“Yeah, you like it when I touch you? Should’ve let me earlier. Even if you were mad at me,” he rambles, rubbing tight circles that make pleasure travel up your spine.
“Wasn't mad,” you whine. “Just wanted r-revenge. And I-I-” You can’t think about anything other than Steven’s hands on you, bringing you to the precipice of another sorely needed orgasm.
“I know, love,” he coos. “You got what you wanted. Now let me get mine.”
Your head tips back a little before Steven pulls one of the cups of your bra down, sitting up and sucking a pert nipple into his mouth. Your chest is still criss-crossed by straps and covered in lace, and Steven is clearly frustrated by the extra covering which he had found so sexy earlier.
“Steven,” you say breathlessly. “Gonna come again, I-”
“It’s okay,” he mouths against your skin. “You can come. Come all over my cock, love. Wanna feel it.”
He flicks his tongue against your tight bud, and you’re overwhelmed by sensation. Just a little-
You reach your hand down to give your clit a little more attention, and finally your second orgasm of the night claims you.
You milk Steven, making him choke and moan against you as your head tilts back and you cry out into the empty apartment.
Then Steven does something that you didn’t expect. He rips your panties off of you.
“Steven,” you gasp, despite remembering what the boutique owner had said about your outfit not lasting the night. “Those were expensive.”
He flips you over, pulling out and rubbing his cock between your folds. “I'll buy you a new pair,” he says, melding his mouth to yours before he pushes in again.
If you thought he was giving it his all before, you were mistaken. Steven’s fucking you at a punishing, brutal pace, pulling at the straps of your lingerie until one by one they all snap off of you and you’re left bare in nothing but shredded lace and his button-up.
You whine, the result of two orgasms making Steven’s conquest an easy slide. Your eyes roll back into your head a little. He’s relentless, insatiable, biting the meat of your bottom lip and licking into your mouth, fucking you so well that you know you’re going to be thinking about it for weeks.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he stutters. “I’m never going to get enough of you. Fuck. Fuck. I-I’m gonna-”
“Come in me,” you beg. “Steven, Steven, come inside.”
He looks into your eyes. “You want me to come inside? Fill you up? B-breed you?”
You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer into you, making the angle deeper. He groans, wet sloppy sounds accompanying his increasingly quickening thrusts.
“Come in me, Steven,” you kiss his cheek. “Come in me. Breed me. Please, please.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-”
He pulses inside you, coming hard like you've been daydreaming he would for the past few days. You kiss the side of his head while he buries his face into your shoulder. “Perfect,” you whisper. “Perfect boy.”
He whimpers, still not relenting in filling you. You’re a little surprised. This is the longest an orgasm has ever lasted for Steven. You must’ve taken a lot out of him.
When he’s finally finished, he lets out a big sigh. You rub his back, nuzzling into him and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to stretch out the moment as much as you can.
“Will you leave me alone about my wardrobe now?” he says into your neck, slightly muffled. You laugh.
“Sure. Only if you promise to wear a t-shirt once in a while.”
He groans. “Deal.”
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