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#Steven grant fanfic
thesecretwriter · 3 months
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how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.  
summary: what the title says!
warning: angsty angst.
word count: 1.1k
a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.
minors/ageless blogs dni.
Masterlists
part 2
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Steven Grant:
“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”
His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.
“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”
Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.
He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.
“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.
Oh, he is tired?
“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”
You explain to him out of frustration.
“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.
“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.
“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.
Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.
“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.
“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.
Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.
You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.
He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.
“What’re you doing?”
Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.
“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.
You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.
“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.
Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.
“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”
That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.
“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”
You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.
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Marc Spector:
“Look at the state of you,”
Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.
“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.
“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.
“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.
“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.
Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.
“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“
“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.
Marc was growing annoyed.
“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”
Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.
“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”
He scoffed at your words.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.
“That’s not what I’m-“
“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”
“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.
“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.
You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.
You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.
He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.
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Jake Lockley:
You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.
With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.
“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.
The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.
“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.
You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.
“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.
He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.
“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.
Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.
“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.
Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.
“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.
You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.
“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.
“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.
“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.
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Domestic Adonis (Steven Grant x Reader)
Author’s Note: I mean really, this fic kinda came about because I couldn’t get this gif out of my head and wanted a way to use it somehow. He just looks so damn fine and Daddyᵀᴹ (I literally hate that I just said that but there is no other way I can put it) therefore proves I’m a slut so🫣🤷🏻‍♀️ C’est la vie, non? And we just love to see Steven confident, comfortable, and adventurous😏Enjoy! :)
Summary: Steven gets some new reading glasses that make your heart skip a beat and make you think of something. One night in bed as the two of you read, you voice this opinion to him. When you get back from a work trip one week later, boy are you in for a treat.
Warnings: Fluff, smut (doesn’t the gif say it all? LOL. Oral–f/m!receiving, penetrative), swearing, mentions of babies
Other Characters: Marc Spector (It’s a primarily Steven x Reader fic, so where Marc does make an appearance and it is a Steven x Reader x Marc kinda deal, but where he’s just there for a bit is why I’m classifying Marc as an “other character”)
Word Count: 3,058
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You honestly don’t know how long you’ve been staring at Steven. You usually sneak glances when you read together before bed. The face of concentration that he has as he reads makes your heart flutter—a mix of contentment and fierce interest. Steven usually sneaks glances at you when he hits a section break or a new chapter, and you can’t help but blush when you both look over at the same time. You love seeing him and knowing that he has chosen you just as much as you have chosen him, and you’re positive that Steven feels the same.
And his glasses. You love his readers. The rectangular specks make him adorable, but he got new glasses, and it has been putting dirty images in your mind since. You don’t know what it is about those specs, but you simply cannot stop looking at your boyfriend of two years.
“What are you thinkin’ about, love?” he says with a small smile as he pulls his attention from the pages in his book to you, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the moonlight that comes in through the window, the beams clashing with the warm lamplight. Incoherent sounds escape your lips. How do you tell him what you’re thinking without sounding like you’ve always wanted it? Because it isn’t true. It’s just with the curls of his hair, the vibe of the new glasses . . .
“You,” you hum simply.
He gives you a tired smile. “Anythin’ beyond that?”
You shrug. “Don’t get mad?” you ask.
“At you? I don’t think I could, but, okay.”
“Have you ever thought about growing a beard?”
“What?” he asks with a lithe chuckle. “A beard?”
“See? Silly question,” you say, trying to return to your book. “Forget it.”
“Hey, hey, stop,” he continues to chuckle, pushing down your novel by its spine. “You think I could pull one off?”
“You don’t think you could pull one off?”
“Not without lookin’ like a ragamuffin, I don't.”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking, I mean, you have great hair on your head all pretty curly like that, and the, uh, t-the glasses . . .” you trail off, swallowing hard and providing him with a gentle shrug. “It could work, that’s all.”
He gives you a soft smile. “I’ll talk with Marc about it. It’s his face too, after all.”
“No, really baby. You don’t have to—It was stupid of me—.”
Steven plants a kiss straight in the middle of your cheek and then on your lips.
“Nothin’ that could ever come out of your mind or mouth is stupid,” he tenderly chastises. “Just different, that’s all. And sometimes, different is bloody brilliant.” He dog ears his page and places his book on the nightstand. “Now, I don’t mean to change the subject, but since your flight leaves while I’m at work tomorrow, I want to make sure my girl’s got everythin’ she needs. I know you have clothes and shoes and jammies since I helped you pack all that earlier, but you have your computer?”
“In my crossbody by my luggage."
“Brilliant. Passport and ticket?”
“In my center purse pouch, all zipped.”
“And your phone is chargin’?”
“Affirmative, captain.”
“Jacket?”
“By the door.”
“Well, that’s all I can think of.”
“Well, I can think of one more thing. I’m going the need . . .” you purse your lips to the side and playfully tap your chin. “Eight kisses from you before you leave tomorrow morning.”
“Eight?” he beams.
“Eight,” you confirm.
“That many might get you somethin’ a little more than you hope for, love.”
“It’ll just be a bonus, then,” you smile. “Unless, you want to preemptively secure that bonus now?”
“You see, as much as I would love that—and I really, really would—I feel if we do that tonight or tomorrow, I’ll only miss you more when you go.”
You look at him with nothing but adoration. “You are just too sweet. I swear, one day, you’re gonna give me a cavity.”
“I’d hate myself if I ruined that smile of yours,” he says with a playful smirk.
You can only smile at Steven as you pull him down for a kiss, moving your head to rest on his chest afterward as you each resume you reading until you both fall asleep.
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“Hi hon!” you greet as you push the apartment door open.
“You’re back early!” you hear Steven call from the kitchen, something sizzling in a pan.
“Yeah, well, turns out all the flight switches from the airline worked out in my favor,” you tell him as you put your luggage next to the table by the door and hang your coat up. When you see Steven, you lose all control of your mouth. It hangs open with a shocked, Cheshire Cat smile as you look at your boyfriend. He stands there in the living room, wiping his hands on a cloth towel with his hair slightly disheveled and a luscious beard on his jaw. He looks like a domestic Adonis. It takes all of your willpower not to rush over to him in this moment and jump his bones. Holy shit.
“Surprise!” he says.
“Oh my,” you giggle as your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so big. “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”
“This is almost a week’s worth of me not shavin’,” he blushes. “Do you like it?”
“Oh wow,” you repeat as you move towards your boyfriend. “Do I like it? You look so handsome! I mean, you always did but . . . Well, I mean, do you like it? It’s on your face!”
“It’ll take some gettin’ used to, but, it does make me look quite distinguished, don’t it?”
“Can you . . .” The words catch in your throat as you feel a blush and heat spread throughout your entire body.
“Can I what, love?”
“Can you put on your reading glasses for me?” you ask sheepishly.
His brows furrow momentarily as the corner of his mouth pulls into a confused grin before he moves over to the desk and slides them on.
Boom. Right there. Panties flooded. 
Steven was always undeniably sexy to you, but seeing him like this elevates him into another category of hotness. He looks like an older, sexy professor that everyone has the hots for.
“Just give me—,” you say as you hold up a finger, turning around briefly so you can let out a silent scream before you turn back to him, more composed this time.
“You know I saw that in the mirror, right?” he chuckles.
“I’m sorry, but this is really doing something to me and for me,” you breathe, still stunned at his appearance.
“Ooh,” he coos as he walks over to you with a spring in his step, placing his hands on you waist. “Someone is in a cheeky, saucy mood, isn’t she?”
“Uh, she was before she came home and now she really is,” you nod, draping your arms across his shoulders. Steven leans down for a kiss, and it sends your head into a spin. You knew the beard would probably tickle, but you are slightly taken aback at how soft the hairs are. You moan into his mouth and do what you can to deepen the kiss. Steven’s hands roam down your sides and squeeze the flesh of your hips. Your fingers comb through his long hair and tug at the roots, your body needing to get as much of Steven near you as possible. He grunts as your noses smush together and his hands move up your torso, scrunching up the cotton of your sweater in the process, the cool London air in the apartment tickling your skin. Steven’s fingertips graze the band of your bra, teasing you as you embrace and act on your desires.
“Mm,” you moan, your fingernails raking against his scalp. Put a baby in me.
After a beat, Steven’s hands unbunch the fabric of your sweater, pulling a whimper from your lips as he moves away.
“Is something burning?” you ask, trying to glance over to the range. You completely forgot he was cooking—he must smell something you don’t.
“No, no,” he says, his fingers gently pushing your gaze back toward him. “What did you just say?”
“If something was burning?”
“No, before that.”
“I don’t know. What did I say?” you ask genuinely.
“You said ‘Put a baby in me.’”
You look at him with wide eyes. “I said that out loud?”
“You didn’t mean to say it?”
“Um, not out loud, no,” you blush profusely. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, but, we haven’t really talked about it seriously or in-depth about it past the ‘Our kids would be so cute’ or ‘I want our kids to have your eyes’ stage. Marc and I haven’t really talked about it, either.”
Steven looks at you so tenderly you could fall apart. “I want to have a family with you,” he says softly. He looks over to the mirror, letting out a breathy chuckle as he grins and nods. “So does Marc. But we both agree that the beard might have made you a bit loopy and want to know if you’d be okay with delayin’ that for the moment.”
You smile and nod, bringing your lips back to his for a tender kiss. “Yeah, we can do that part later. When we talk about it more and decide if and yes, I’ll get off the pill and we can go from there.”
“Yeah,” he says warmly. “Yeah, we’d love that.”
“But, until then, uh, I do think you should turn off the stove and come to the bedroom.” You create some space between you as you remove your shirt. “The seats on the plane were really uncomfortable, and I have knots all over my body that need to be worked out.”
Steven’s eyes light up. He moves so fast across the apartment, you’re afraid he’s going to crash straight on his face. As Steven rushes back to you, his hands snatch your waist and lift you up and onto the mattress, his body serving like a cage has he hovers over you. You slip off his glasses and put them on the nightstand before his lips attach to the sweet spot on your neck, eliciting a moan from you. Not only does he know what that spot does to you regularly, but the sensation of his beard drives you wild as the hairs scrape against your skin. 
Like well-rehearsed actors in a play, you shed each other of your clothes, your hands caressing each other’s body while Steven’s lips take extra liberties along your skin.
“I missed you, too,” you breathe as Steven’s lips latch onto your breasts, worshiping the supple, fatty flesh. You squeak as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, giving each boob careful and devoted attention before his lips place sloppy, wet kisses down your stomach. Steven spreads your legs open, places alternating, lingering kisses on the inner flesh of your thighs before he reaches your middle.
“Tap my hand if it feels uncomfortable, alright?” he tells you.
“I promise,” you affirm.
You take a sharp breath in as his tongue licks along your folds before his lips capture your throbbing nub as he sucks on it. The beard isn’t as uncomfortable as Steven probably anticipated—his hair is just so soft, it feels nice and plush, ticklish at most. Your body is too focused on other sensations to process the tickle, as your hips squirm at the movements of his mouth. The way that Steven moves from increasing his pace to slowing it down makes your head spin, and he leaves you on edge the entire time, pressing one fat kiss on your throbbing clit as he moves away.
“Oh, damn,” you chuckle breathlessly as he slides up from between your legs, the evidence of my extreme arousal glistening in his beard. Just as you think he’s hovering over your body to kiss you and let you taste your arousal, he flips you over, his hands on your hips as he guides your ass into the air.
“Steven!” you giggle, completely surprised by the action.
“I’m trying somethin’ a bit different tonight, love,” he tells you, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Steven leans down over your back, kissing a line right down your spine from your neck to your tailbone. You can hear him drag his hand across his mouth moments before you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance.
“Ah,” you moan as he begins to press into you from behind. Every inch he puts in feels better than the last, and once he has bottomed out, he leans forward and peppers kisses all along your back and your shoulder blades.
“You look so lovely from this angle,” he praises, his hot breath and beard sending goosebumps all over your body. “So beautiful.”
“Steven,” you groan as he begins to rock into your body. “Oh my God.”
“Oh wow,” he pants, finding a steady rhythm. “Oh wow, you feel so good like this. Oh, you’re gonna be the death of me, love.”
His hands gently caress your waist, hips, and rear, unsure of where they should settle. Steven surprises you, keeping his left hand just above your hip bone as the other one gathers your hair in his fist. The slight yank at the roots of your hair is encouraging, causing you to tilt your head back just enough to arch your back and feel Steven in a new way. He must feel it too, because the groan that escapes his mouth is purely carnal. Letting go of your hair, he wraps an arm right under your bouncing breasts and lifts you up so your back is flush against his chest and he has access to the skin of your neck.
“Oh, Steven, yes,” you breathe, straining your neck to kiss whatever skin of his face you can find. “Right there.” The phrase turns into a chant, a chant into a prayer. With each utterance, he manages to hit deeper into you, and you relish the sensation. Sneaking his fingers down to your front, two of his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing tight circles over the bundle of nerves. You let out a high pitched moan as he kisses your shoulder. “Steven, I want to see your face. Please, baby, I want to see you when I come.”
Steven moves his kisses up your body until his lips hover just over your ear. 
“I’m gonna lie you down, okay, love?” he whispers.
You pant as you give him sort, quick nods. He pulls out and you feel empty, your body aching for Steven. He carefully puts you on the mattress, spreading your legs wide as he lines himself up to your entrance. He doesn’t push as slowly in you as he did the first time, but slow enough so he can admire how you look below him. One of his hands caresses your cheek, and you turn your face into it to press a kiss to his palm. Your moans harmonize as he bottoms out in you once more, leaning down to kiss you and rest his forehead against yours as he resumes the pace from the position on his knees. His hand slips in between your bodies, the pads of his fingers once more finding your clit and giving it a good rubbing. With Steven touching you like this, looking at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes, and him looking like something straight from a fantasy is enough as you feel the band snap in your stomach, allowing you to come around him while he thrusts. Your grip and erotic cries encourage him to move faster towards his own release, and he continues to pound into you as far as he can as he finishes. You both stay like this catching your breath, how you always do after you find your release with one another. 
“I missed you so much,” he hums punctuating each word with a kiss.
“I missed you more,” you counter, pressing a long kiss to his plush lips.
Steven chases another kiss, a hand holding the side of your face to keep you there as he slides out and lies next to you.
“So, what do you think?” he asks, still panting slightly. “Is the beard here to stay?”
“If you want it to. The change is exciting, but I think I’ll miss that smooth jaw of yours eventually.” Steven presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and jaw. “Although, if Donna ever gets that stick out of her ass and promotes you to tour guide, you might need to keep it. You ooze sexy academia right now.”
“Oh, is that it?” Steven laughs. 
“Mm, yeah,” you confirm. “You look so wise and smart and sexy and smart.”
“You said smart twice."
“Because you are. And I would have said sexy more than once, but I think by virtue of me being naked in your bed in your arms gets that point across pretty well.”
The smile that pulls on Steven’s face makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. Every time you think you can’t fall more in love with this man, he proves you wrong with things like this.
“I love you,” you tell him. “So much.”
“I love you, too,” he hums kissing you neck as he sharply inhales. “I second that motion.” Marc.
“Hi,” you chuckle as he continues to press kisses on your skin. “I love you, too.”
“Mm, I’m feeling a little more needy than that,” he whispers, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, dragging his beard along your skin in a way that he knows gives you goosebumps. “Did Steven tucker you out?”
You look over at his face, brushing the tip of your nose against his. 
“It’d be rude to reject the welcome wagon, wouldn’t it? Especially when it looks has handsome as my men do.”
Marc smiles briefly before his lips attach to yours, and the way that his hands grip onto your waist let you know that the welcome wagon will be making several stops with Steven and Marc as the conductors.
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moonluvin · 2 months
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bite marks - steven grant.
pairing: dark!steven grant x female reader
summary: in which y/n starts receiving mystery packages from a stranger – not that she minds it since its stuff that she likes. however, things take a turn when a seemingly kind face reveals more than you would expect.
warnings: angst, fluff & smut (holy trinity).
a/n: happy reading!
word count: 3.4k words
minors/ageless blogs dni.
masterlist
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For several weeks you found bouquet of flowers on your doorstep. You were instantly delighted, as you had never received flowers before. It didn't take long for you to realize that someone was watching you.
That someone had maintained a fair distance from you but was close enough to observe you. He kept a book in which he made notes of your likes and dislikes, so far, he had written up quite a detailed profile on you.
As expected, another bouquet of flowers had been left on your doorstep, this time it was accompanied by a note – something which did not occur before.
Curiously, you wasted no time in reading the note.
‘like a moth to a blame, i can't help but feel drawn to your presence.’
It had no name signed to it, just a vague note.
A twisted part of you enjoyed the attention you received as you clutched the note to your chest and smiled briefly.
All the while you were completely oblivious to the stare on you.
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Today, a day just like any other, had a slight change. A man, whom you don’t know the name of had walked into the café you worked at and had a nervous exchange when ordering his drink of choice.
“Steven,” you called out his name and waited for said mystery man to collect his drink. He avoided eye contact and said a little ‘thank you’ before walking to a secluded corner and situating himself there with a book.
You smiled at the sight and continued your workday as usual.
You enjoyed your line of work as it allowed you to indulge in two activities you liked. Meeting people and baking.
Steven had found solace in his little corner with a few glances your way. He didn’t want to be obvious since he was used to watching you from the shadows but watching you in your place of comfort made it almost impossible to keep his gaze away from you.
“Interesting choice,” you said as you cleaned the table next to him.
Your voice surprised him.
He looked at the book in his hand and then back at you.
“I’m actually rereadin’ it,” he said as calmly as he could.
“Oh? You enjoyed it that much?” you said with interest.
The book he had been trying to reread was “Persuasion” by Jane Austen.
“I certainly did,” he said with a smile.
He already knew of your interest in reading and took the initiative to read all books you have read in order to understand you better. Due to his observations of you, it was easy to pick up on your habits and on the fact that you’re unconscious of your surroundings.
You smiled at his reply and politely excused yourself to the kitchen.
Steven’s heart had been beating rapidly for the entire exchange the two of you had. It may have been small, but to him it was the perfect way to insert himself into your life.
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Your everyday life has now consisted of friendly exchanges with Steven on the basis of books and the occasional walk home from him when he waited for you to close up the café.
The flowers from your admirer had not stopped, however, they had now become something you get occasionally.
On this particular day you had been living life as usual when Steven walked in with the sweet smile he had reserved for you, in his hand was his copy of ‘Persuasion’.
He sat at his usual place and waited for you to approach him, as you did so, he wasted no time in nervously babbling to you.
“I know this isn’t the most appropriate way to do this since you’re at work and all, but I would love to take you on a date if you would like to go on one?” he said all in one go and if it weren’t for you being used to taking note of everything your customers say then you wouldn’t have understood him.
Steven avoided eye contact with you the more you remained silent, and he had begun to think that maybe asking you on a date at work was a bad idea.
“I would love to,”
All worry he was feeling had dissipated and he looked with you with a toothy grin.
“You would?” he said slightly surprised.
You nodded in response and smiled at him.
He seemed to grasp his surroundings and returned your smile as he recited that he would have his usual drink. Before you left to prepare his order, he handed you his copy of Persuasion.
“I wanted you to have this,” he said, making a point to maintain eye contact with you.
You were about to protest when he spoke up again.
“Its an annotated copy with notes I made specifically for you,”
As soon as he said that you knew you couldn’t refuse it. So, you took the copy with a soft thank you and went on to tend to his order.
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Following that exchange between you and Steven, the two of you had quickly fell into a relationship where everything seemed natural. Especially with Steven’s efforts towards you.
Upon making things official, you had told him about the flowers you received previously, to which he assured you that it was okay, and he would take care of it if you wanted him to.
Very quickly 3 months had passed by, and it was filled with pure bliss. Steven being a new addition to your life had made it a happy wonderland.
“Do you want anything from the kitchen?” you heard him ask aloud from your kitchen.
“I’m good thanks,” you assured him as he walked into your living room.
A recent activity the two of you shared was reading in the company of each other and annotating the books for one another. Which is what the two of you were currently doing.
You watched his reaction as you pulled out a book you knew he would be surprised to see.
His eyes slightly widened upon seeing the title and his eyes made their way to you.
“Interestin’ book you’ve got there,” he said, his voice sounding lower than before.
“You think so? I thought I’d give it a try,” you said feigning innocence.
“You should, I’ve heard tha’ its quite detailed,”
“You’ve heard of it?” you asked with a raised brow.
“Of course, I have,” is all he said before opening his own book and reading it.
You took it as a sign that he didn’t want to go further with the conversation.
Throughout the night, Steven had noticed the way you would slightly clench your thighs as your eyes skimmed through the book. It was easy for him to pick up on the fact that you were turned on by what you were reading.
He knew this from the many nights he’d seen you touch yourself. You of course were not aware of your audience, not that he would want you to know that.
Even though your relationship with Steven was only 3 months in, sexual activities between the two of you were not a main concern, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t time where either of you got carried away while making out.
He made it known to you that he wanted to take things slow, and you never questioned him because you respected his wishes. The actual reason he wanted to take things slow was because he wanted to enjoy your company before finally indulging in you. It was all part of his plan.
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On a day which was just like any other, you were cleaning up your bookshelf when you realised a particular book of yours was missing. It had been one you read a long time ago and you had specifically put it in a place only you knew of.
You brushed off your concern and chalked it down to you simply misplacing it.
The weather outside had been rainy, but not the calm drizzle you were used to, instead it was storming. Steven had stated he had difficulty in coming to see you and you of course understood this and told him you’d see him tomorrow.
Just as you were about to walk into the kitchen to wash the dishes from earlier, the lights went out. You huffed out a sigh and began looking for candles in order to see properly in the dark.
A sound coming from your living room heightened your senses as you stayed stark still.
You were the only one home, so the noise was unusual to say the least.
With a candle in hand, you softly made your way towards where the noise came from. The rational part of your mind was screaming to leave it alone and retreat to the safety of your room. However, your curiosity had got the best of you.
A book was face down on the floor as you looked around for the source of the noise, you picked it up and turned it around to look at the cover.
It was the missing book. That missing book.
A burning feeling of fear in your chest made you turn around to go to your room, but the figure in the shadows did not allow that.
The stranger’s hand had clasped its way around your mouth to prevent your from screaming whilst the other had pulled you towards him and gripped both your hands in his to avoid you from getting away.
It was by sheer luck that the candle you were holding fell and the flame was put out instantly.
Now, you were in the darkness of your own home while a stranger held you prisoner in his hold.
You felt the vibration of his chuckle as he held you.
“You can’t get away from me,” he said maliciously.
Your eyes widened in shock, and you tried to push your way out of his hold.
“You made it so easy f’me,” he stated as he dragged you towards your room.
He knew his way around your home, which didn’t register in your mind yet since you were trying to get away from him.
That’s when an idea popped into your mind.
You bit down as hard as you could, and he hissed in pain. Before you could scream, he used some type of material to stop you from screaming.
“Don’t make me do things I’ll later regret,” he warned as he stopped to make a point to you.
You complied out of fear and let him take you to your room.
With the absence of electricity, it made it difficult for you to make out the face of the man.
He carefully restrained your hands and made you sit on your bed facing him. You’d assume in a situation such as this you would be scared, but you didn’t exactly know what you felt. Maybe it was the adrenaline.
“If you listen t’me, then we can make things easy,” he stated.
You quirked a brow at him but nodded in compliance. The last thing you wanted was to make him angry.
“I don’t want any funny business, if you try anything against what I’m saying then I’m goin’ to have to use this,”
The little bit of light from outside allows you to see the knife he’s holding in his hand.
You feel a familiar throb between your legs at his words.
“Move more up,” he indicates to your bed, and you move up further to provide him with space to sit at the edge and watch you.
“Did you enjoy getting the flowers from me?”
Of course, it had to be the mystery man who had been sending you flowers.
“I assume you now don’t like them as much since you’re too busy giving time to someone else,” he said with a hint of a smile.
You want to speak and let him know that you missed receiving the flowers, but it occurred to you in that moment that this was a complete stranger to you. So, why did you feel the need to validate the way he felt?
“You may be thinking I don’t know a thing about you, but I know more than anyone else in your life,” he chuckled darkly and looked to the side before facing you again.
“I know all about the dark fantasies tha’ roam around tha’ mind of yours. The fear you feel by thinking about them but also the enjoyment you get,”
You tensed at his words; your thoughts were your own. Something only you were aware of.
He stood up from the bed and pulled you by the ankles to the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs open in the process, you were about to force them closed when he grazed the blade of the knife from your ankle all the way up to your thighs.
Your arms were still restrained in front of you as he began to train the blade towards your neck. Your eyes never left his, even if you couldn’t see them in the dark.
He was enjoying the willingness you were showing him.
“Be a good girl,” he said while using both hands to carefully cut your shirt in the middle. You felt the coolness of the air on your bare chest once he finished.
He stared at you for a moment and contemplated his choices.
“I’m goin’ to allow you to speak, but the moment you do anythin’ out of line. You know the consequences,”
You looked from the reflected blade to his shadowy figure and nodded.
He removed the piece of material from your mouth and waited for you to scream, when you didn’t, he disregarded the material and took hold of your hands by gripping them.
Your hands were above your head on the bed while he straddled you and his face was in line with yours.
“All you have to say is no,” he assured you.
Its funny how he gives you that choice after what his already done.
You thought for a moment, head foggy with thoughts and nodded.
A ghost of a smile made its way to his face.
“You’re a very bold person,” he said before kissing your neck and caging you between his body and the bed. His one hand still remained by keeping your above your head while the other grasped your breast, kneading the flesh and causing you to slight moan.
“You like tha’?” he asked with a chuckle.
You nodded and looked to his lips, as a way of asking him to kiss you.
“Use your words,” he insisted.
“Yes. I liked that,”
He pecked your lips and sat up briefly to take off his own shirt. You laid there and watched him with wanting eyes.
For a moment he stepped away from the bed and tugged at the waist band of your pants till they were off, next to be disregarded were your underwear.
He soon returned to kissing you, but his hand trailed down your body till they were between your legs, feeling your arousal.
“Someone seems to enjoy having a stranger do such things to them,” he chuckled darkly and began to draw little circles on your clit, making you bite your lip to stop your moans from being heard.
“I want to hear you,” he insisted and added more pressure to his fingers on your clit. Your moan of pleasure gave him the validation he so desperately wanted to hear.
“Fuck,” you swore under your breath as he sucked on one of your breasts.
He hummed in acknowledgement and continued his little game of pleasure.
Slowly, he made his way down your body till you felt his tongue teasing your clit.
You went to move your still restrained hands.
“Keep your hands where they were,” he warned and looked up at you.
You complied and spread your legs more for him.
He took his time with teasing your clit, using his fingers to spread you so he could suck on your clit and spread your arousal.
“You’re so wet,” he said with a teasing tone.
“Please,” you begged, not knowing exactly what you wanted.
You felt two of his fingers at your entrance as he stimulated you by still sucking on your clit. He set a comfortable pace, his fingers motioning them in a way that has you almost seeing stars.
You feel yourself going towards that feeling of euphoria and as you clench around his fingers, he stops.
“Not yet,” he said with a chuckle.
You whine in protest but silence yourself once he moves. He removes whatever remaining pieces of clothing he has and situates himself on the bed and pulls you on top of him to straddle him and removes the restraints from your hands.
“Ride me,” he says almost like a plea, which surprises you.
You settle one hand on his shoulder to balance yourself as you guide him into you. As you slowly sink down into his lap, you both gasp at the feeling of each other. He kisses you and pulls your body closer to his. Your hips begin to move on their own accord as you continue to kiss each other.
“Just like tha’,” he praises as he breaks the kiss and looks at you.
Breasts slightly bouncing with the motion of your hips. Out of habit you bite your lip, but soon grip his neck to make him look at you before you kiss him.
Something about him feels so familiar, but any rational thoughts you have are consumed by the feeling of him. A stranger who is making you feel things you’ve only read about.
You continue to kiss him and feel his one hands trail between you and him. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your clit and soon that familiar build up of euphoria is felt in the pit of your tummy.
“You gonna cum f’me?” his tone was demanding yet still held desperation in them.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” you admit and start to move your hips even more.
“Then cum,” he demands, and like the good girl that you are, you cum.
You moan into the kiss and ride out your orgasm, only stopping when you become too sensitive.
He chuckles when you slump against him.
“We’re not done yet,”
He braces you against him and soon your back is on the bed, and he is now above you, his cock still inside you.
In the middle of you gaining your conscious thoughts back, you see him take the knife from before and hold it against your neck.
The feeling of the cool metal makes you gasp.
“I’m not goin’ to hurt you,” he assures you, and somehow you know you can trust him.
He begins to thrust into you at a slow pace, leaning over to kiss you every now and then while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. The blade is still held against your neck. The wetness from your previous orgasm makes it easy for him to thrust into you.
You hear him curse under his breath every few moments, and you know he’s having an internal battle with wanting to thrust into you harshly.
“Do it,” you tell him.
He hums in confusion.
“Fuck me faster, stop holding back,” you tell him.
That was all he needed to hear before you felt him begin to increase the pace in thrusts and the force of his hips were now more brutal than before. He was chasing own high, but at the same time. He was ensuring you felt it just as much. You felt him kissing your neck and without warning, you felt his teeth sink into your neck. The pain causing a sense of pleasure.
“Rub your clit,” he says through gritted teeth.
You do as he says and clench around him at the overstimulation. With a few more thrusts, he’s cumming inside of you and while you cum at the same time. You’re both breathing heavily. You lay there and stare at the ceiling above you, the rational thoughts finally making their way back to you.
A stranger just fucked you in your bed, and you willingly let him do so. Your thoughts were interrupted by said stranger pulling you towards him and kissing you on the forehead. The pain from the bite mark still lingered on your sensitive skin.
“Fuck, y/n. Tha’ was so good,”
That’s when it hits you. That voice.
“Steven?”
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flightlessangelwings · 3 months
Text
Late Nights
Neighbor!Steven Grant x gn!reader
Word count- 1.8k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, feelings, protective!Steven,fluff, no use of y/n
Notes- This check two things: part of my neighbor Steven Grant series and a box (praise kink) for @moonknight-events Bingo. And tho it's part of a series, I wrote all the parts so that they can stand on their own. This as been in my wips for so long and I'm so happy to finally have written it!! I've missed our dear Steven too! Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new fics!
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~
It was late, and Steven should have fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, he laid wide awake, his mind racing as he fiddled with his rubik's cube. Steven just couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. He thought about you all day long- while he was at work, he wondered if you would like the exhibits he worked around. On the days he was lucky to pass you in the hallway on his way to his door, the image of your bright smile stayed with him well into the night. Even when he was in bed, Steven couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you there with him, nuzzled in his arms.
He felt too nervous to make the first move, though. 
But, a sound from the other side of the wall made Steven gasp- it  was you. He heard you whimper and he immediately shot upright as his mind raced. Should he go over to you? Were you just having a nightmare? Or did something happen and you needed him?
As Steven pondered the options, he heard you cry out again, louder this time. His breath caught in his throat as you whined again, but this time it was different. Steven was sure he heard his name.
“I’m coming, love,” he whispered to himself as he jumped out of bed and grabbed the spare key you gave him in case of emergencies. 
Steven scrambled to his door and his hands trembled as he opened it. Bolting the short distance to your door, he gritted his teeth as he unlocked your door and burst inside in a rush. Shutting the door behind him, Steven ran across the space to your bed, scared that he would find you hurt or in trouble. 
But, what he found instead froze him in his tracks.
You were sprawled out on your bed, one hand cupping your chest, pinching your own nipple and the other between your legs. Your eyes were shut as your hand worked to pleasure yourself and you were lost in bliss until the sound of your name in Steven’s voice made your eyes snap open.
“Steven…” you gasped as you locked eyes with him.
The world felt like it was on fire, and as much as Steven knew he should leave, having caught you in a private and intimate moment, he couldn’t make himself move. It was as if you enthralled him, freezing him to the spot where he stood.
And you were flustered, covering yourself with the sheet as you realized you were so loud that you caught Steven’s attention. But, the way he looked at you made your heart pound. More than being embarrassed that he caught you pleasuring yourself, you felt your skin burn at the thought that he heard you cry out his name while he did so.
It felt like an eternity where neither of you moved, both too unsure of what to do or say to ease the tension in the room. It was Steven who finally moved first, though.
“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he covered his eyes and turned away, “I should go.”
“Wait,” you replied out of reflex.
Steven turned back to face you, his jaw tight and his eyes burning into your figure on the bed.
“Stay,” you whispered in a soft tone as you sat up and dropped the sheet, “Please stay,” your voice shook as your nerves overtook you, but you figured it was now or never.
He swallowed hard as his hands trembled, “Are- are you sure?” He sounded just as nervous.
“I’m sure,” you replied in a hushed tone as you kicked the sheet away, exposing yourself completely to him.
Steven felt his skin warm as he suddenly felt overdressed. He felt like he was in a dream, but if he was, he didn’t want to wake up. Moving before he realized it, he crossed the rest of the space and leaned forward, placing his hands on the foot of your bed. “Are you sure about this, love?” he asked again in a low tone as his eyes drank you in.
“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.
Both of you were nervous, it was a bold move and uncharted territory for each of you. But, the need overtook the nerves. Slowly, Steven reached out for you, cupping your face tenderly in his hand. You let out the breath you held as you leaned into his touch. As his thumb brushed across your cheek, Steven also exhaled, “You’re so lovely.”
Your mouth parted as you gasped softly. Mirroring his action, you reached for him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer until your lips crashed together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you instantly deepened the kiss, and Steven’s hands roamed all over your bare figure. As you kissed him deeply, you tugged at his shirt, motioning for him to take it off.
“Let me see you too, Steven,” you whispered.
Steven let out a short laugh before he broke away to do as you asked. This time, it was your turn to gawk as your eyes roamed across his chest. You had always found him attractive from the moment you first met, but to see him shirtless before you made your heart flip in your chest.
“Wow…” you breathed.
He giggled nervously, “Wow to you too, darling,” he quipped.
That made you laugh as you pulled him close again, “Touch me, Steven,” you murmured as you guided him to crawl onto the bed so that he hovered over you.
Resting on your back, you looked up at Steven as his arms framed your face. The two of you froze again as you locked eyes, but this time it didn’t last. Steven was the first to move as he leaned forward and kissed you, taking the lead this time. His kiss was slow and soft, but you moaned into him as you felt his emotions in the kiss.
His hands roamed all over your body, running up and down your sides before cupping your chest. You broke the kiss to let out a louder moan as his hands ran across your nipples while he kneaded your chest.
“Steven…” you whimpered as you arched your back.
Encouraged by your moans, Steven’s hand ran down your body until one dipped between your legs. You gasped when you felt a finger at your entrance, making him pause.
“Keep going… please…” you begged.
“Can’t say no to you, love,” Steven smirked before he slowly pushed a finger into you and started to gently thrust in and out.
Your mouth dropped open as you cried out, “Steven… Feels so good…”
His eyes darkened at your words, and he couldn’t help but pick up his pace before he added a second finger, “You’re exquisite, darling.”
All you could do was moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, coating them in your slickness as he did so. His fingers filled you more than your own could, yet you still craved more. “Steven…” you pleaded, “Please… Need you…” you choked on your words, flustered at just how desperate you were. 
“Shit love,” he breathed, astonished that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
Carefully, Steven pulled his fingers out of you before he pushed his pants down to free his cock. His heart fluttered in his chest as your hungry eyes landed on his hardened length. Slowly, you peeled your eyes away and up his body, soaking in every inch of his skin before you met his gaze. Heat rose in the room as the two of you locked eyes, and the unspoken question lingered in the air. 
Swallowing hard, you nodded, answering without the words needed.
Steven whispered your name as he positioned himself at your entrance, crawling over you as the tip pushed in. Both of you gasped as he started to fill you, and you both clung to the other as your heat engulfed him inch by inch until he was completely sheathed inside you.
“Fuck, Steven,” you murmured, “You feel so good,” you couldn’t help but moan as you wrapped your arms around him, “Fuck me… Please…”
He breathed a soft, “Fuck,” in your ear as his hips moved on their own.
Moans and groans filled the room as Steven’s hips rocked against yours. What started as clumsy and unsure quickly morphed into hot and desperate as Steven thrust his hips faster.
“Yes… Steven… So good… Feels so good,” you babbled in his ear as you dug your nails into the skin of his back, desperate to feel him as close as possible.
His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt his climax already start to build. Between how good you felt and the babbling praise that flowed from your lips, he knew he wasn’t going to last. “Fuck… Darling…”
You let out a loud gasp as he thrust as deep as he could into you, hitting that sweet spot with precision, “Fuck!” you screamed, “Right there!” you opened your eyes as he paused in that moment, “You’re beautiful, Steven,” you whispered.
“Not as beautiful as you, love,” he smirked back before his hips took over again, thrusting into you with abandon.
The cries you let out echoed in the room, and both of you were sure the other neighbors could hear you but neither of you cared. All that mattered to each of you was the other, and the climaxes you both desperately chased. Incoherent babbling dripped from your lips in between your moans until you screamed even louder as your peak hit.
“That’s it, love,” Steven wasn’t sure where that came from, but as he talked you through your climax, he found it turned him on even more, “Lovely,” he preened as he felt you clench around him as you came hard, “Fuck…” he stuttered as his own orgasm hit right after yours. Steven groaned your name as he spilled himself inside of you, and he clung to you just as much as you did to him as he rode out both your climaxes together. 
Completely spent and out of breath, Steven collapsed down on top of you, clumsily pulling out of you as he did so. He only relaxed for a moment, though; after hearing you gasp, he shot right back up onto his elbows to check on you, “Are you alright, love?” he asked with worry as he cradled your face.
Keeping your eyes closed, you smiled and leaned into his touch, “Never better,” you replied in a hushed tone before you kissed his palm, “That was better than how my night started,” you added with a chuckle.
Steven’s face lit up as he leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead, “I agree,” he whispered with a laugh of his own.
“Stay with me, tonight?” you asked in a meek tone.
“Anything for you, love,” Steven replied as he made himself comfortable and the two of you tangled your limbs in each other, curled up and safe in the other’s arms.
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paperweightshopp · 2 years
Text
we are NOT gonna move on from Steven
NEVER
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5K notes · View notes
TELL ME YOU THINK ABOUT ME TOO
Part of the Seven Nights Of Sin - Series Three
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Steven Grant x F!Reader (hints of Marc Spector x F!Reader) 18+. 9K. Friends to lovers with a shit ton of pining. Female masturbation. Oral sex (fem receiving). Unprotected shower sex. Steven being all soft and needy but also a little feral.
Prompt: "Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"
Requested by: @acrossthesestars , I am so sorry for how long this has taken me and I hope you enjoy it! 🖤
Their relationship was an odd thing Steven thought. Chaotic in the kind of way that not many would understand. 
God, he just barely understood it himself after all.
It's him and it's Marc and it's you, all entwined, your lives like singular threads that were blown together and now lay impossibly tangled. Knotted so tightly that even if someone was to try and shear them apart, there would still be remnants of the others embedded in the one they tried to pull loose. 
And then it went beyond that. 
There were the separate tanglements that branched from the heart of the whole one. Himself and Marc. Marc and you. You and him. 
He knew that there were differences - that there was something more between you and Marc. Another level to the relationship that Steven yearned for but felt would be pushing his luck to try and approach with you after you had already given him so much. 
When he wasn't in control he sometimes saw fragments of it, glimpses that made him flush and his chest tighten, desire clashing with the jealousy that sat like an uncomfortable weight in the back of his throat. He saw you through the thinning glass between the alters, saw your lips part around a throaty moan that hit him like a train, the slopes of your bare skin, sweat slick and gleaming, as your back bowed in pleasure.
He was always quick to turn away before he saw too much, squeezing his eyes shut to give you your privacy and to chastise himself for those feelings that were steadily slipping further out of his already shaky control. 
He was arguing against himself, the part of him that craved more than he should, stern in the reasoning that he should be grateful to have you in any capacity. To have your friendship and your care, your protectiveness over him and the way your eyes glowed with interest, gaze fixed on him and smile soft, warm and encouraging, no matter what subject he chose to ramble on and on at you about. 
And if that wasn’t enough to make him hold his tongue then the insecurities that clung to his bones and his insides - his poor lovesick heart - in strings of black tar, were certainly more than willing to do the trick.
Because why would you want him like that when you've already got someone like Marc? Someone so clearly your equal. 
Would you be offended by the idea of him as a partner - of being with both of them? 
What if he ruined things entirely - made things weird and you leave? Plunging your hand in that mess of threads and ripping yours away, splitting fibres that burrowed beneath his skin and left him forever haunted by the ghost of you. 
It didn’t matter that Marc had tried to tell him otherwise, gave Steven as many hints as he could without revealing the extent of your feelings because that was your business and not his place. His voice growing exasperated the longer that Steven refused to do anything about it. 
"Do you really think she would put up with all of this, if she didn't love both of us?"
Yes.
No. 
Bloody hell, he didn't know. 
It’s a question he didn't have an answer to and so he chose to ignore it completely. 
Buried it alongside the too fast flutter of his pulse beneath his skin when you drifted close, when your hand was threading through the mess of his curls. Gentle fingers tilting his jaw, stroking the fragile skin beneath his eyes as you checked for signs that he wasn’t sleeping as well as you’d like before you mumbled out a happy sounding noise, pleased when you found none.
He swallowed it back and pretended it didn't burn all the way down. Like the thought didn’t feel like it would burst him to flames the same way it did when he woke to find you wound around his body, legs tangled with his and your breath, soft and warm, against his neck. 
The only reaction you gave when realising you had fallen asleep with Marc and woken with Steven, being the shy smile that crept across your lips as you gazed up at him, arms making no move to let him go, to push him away and create distance. 
He didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. 
He was in over his head.
** 
It was after a fight that it happened. 
They returned to the quiet of their hotel room, heads down and bodies tucked in on themselves as they passed through the plain reception and the corridors with their aged, peeling wallpaper until there was the relief of the door clicking shut behind them. 
They were stained with the after effects of their violence. Blood splattered jaws and rust beneath their nails, the collar of Steven’s sweater torn wide, slit at the abdomen from where he was stabbed before he’d remembered to summon the suit and when he looked at you, there were already bruises blooming. Creeping across your skin - the swell of your cheek - before his very eyes, muddied shades of navy and lavender that made him wince and his hands twitch. 
You smiled when you caught it, all easy charm, a sweet, placating thing that softened the sharp edges that still clung to your features after a mission. “I’m fine Steven.” You told him gently. “Nothing a shower and some bandages won’t fix anyway. 
He nodded, a little unsure as always, trying to offer a simple smile back because Steven’s learned it’s best not to hover when it comes to you. To treat you like you were made of glass just because you were something infinitely precious to them. That you could easily grow frustrated at the way Marc loomed like a pissed off drill sergeant and Steven fretted like a frantic, mother hen when they saw you hurt all because you lacked an ancient god fused to your bones and hooked in the meat of your soul. 
Instead he slipped into the bathroom and cleaned away the blood that itched at his own skin, his stomach only faintly twisting this time as he watched it swirl pink in the water before slipping down the drain. 
He was getting better at it, he realised belatedly. It didn’t feel like he’d lose whatever food he had managed to get down that day anymore when he was faced with the evidence of what he had done, like his stomach wanted to turn itself inside out and he needed you to scrape the sweat-damp droop of his curls away from his clammy forehead. Mouthing soothing sounds into his shoulder as he groaned and coughed up his guts. 
Once he was dressed in something that didn’t look like it’s seen the inside of a shredder he went out again. 
It was routine by now. Him or Marc would go in search of food - flaky pastries dusted with cinnamon or soaked in syrup. Steaming pasta in rich, silky sauce with thick slices of buttery garlic bread. Tacos. Gyoza. Earl grey cake from the bakery you passed on your way into town. 
Anything you asked for because it was the only way you ever really let them take care of you, only huffing slightly when they handed you the painkillers that you absolutely always argued you didn’t need if they didn’t bribe you first. 
And by the time they typically got back you would already be lounging in the bed. Hair slightly damp from the shower, wounds neatly bandaged, and looking far too warm and soft than Steven’s poor heart could handle, sunk into the plethora of mismatched pillows. 
It always made his heart flutter in his chest to come back to you waiting, to step into the room and find your eyes shining over at him, your hands already outstretched, making grabbing motions that had him chuckling as you beckoned him towards you with the food. Head tilting in the direction of the box tv as you teased him with a grin. “It’s about time, there’s an old crime documentary about to start, I thought we could watch whilst we eat.” 
Which is why it struck him as odd when he returned and there was no sign of you. The bed still neatly made. The blank screen of the tv staring back at him, projecting nothing but his own reflection, when his gaze flicked to it. 
He relaxed when he registered the faint sound of running water - the repetitive pattering of spray hitting the tiles. Shook his head at how his body had immediately drawn tight with anxiety all because you weren’t where he had expected you to be. The breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding blowing past his lips in a rushed exhale at the smell of your shampoo, fresh and slightly sweet, comforting in a way he couldn’t explain, seeping beneath the bathroom door. 
Everything’s fine. She’s fine. You were just worrying over nothing.
But then he heard it. 
His name. 
Or at least, he thought he did. There was a few beats of silence when he stopped, quietly placing the bag of food onto the side as he strained to listen. Nothing. 
It was maybe his imagination, he thought. 
Maybe you had been mumbling to yourself, singing beneath your breath like he knew you liked to do when you thought no one could hear. He went back to sorting the food with another shake of his head, a mutter to himself that he was growing far too paranoid as he pulled out the containers and the plastic utensils before reaching over to the little tv to find something you might be interested in watching when you eventually did come out.  
And then he definitely heard it again. 
A touch louder, clearer that time than the last, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sound. It was a pained thing - a low moan that cut to a whimper and Steven almost completely lost his head. 
Were you hurt? Had he left when you needed him? What if you’re trying to hide the seriousness of one of your wounds, bleeding out in there because of your stubborn refusal to worry him?
He called to you once. A second time that was steeped in a dizzying panic, and when there was no response again all thought went out the window. He was lunging for the door to the bathroom, sweat-damp hand fumbling with the handle before he nearly wrenched the damn thing off despite Marc’s suspiciously calm voice in his head telling him ‘Steven wait..it’s not what you think-’ 
He almost snarled at that, bristling in disbelief that Marc could be so unbothered when Steven’s fear had snapped to life in an instant to clutch him by the throat. There was an anger he wasn’t quite used to rushing through his chest, burning vicious and ugly, charring his bones as he spat back at the other man, “If you think I’m going to ignore the fact that she’s seriously hurt then you’re fucking mental, what is wrong with you!” 
Marc didn't respond, at least not with words - there was a weary sigh that seemed to say ‘suit yourself’ and then silence. Good. 
He refused to pay him mind, to focus on anything else other than you, getting you the help you needed, and when he finally flung the door open, the noise of it hitting the wall almost deafening in the silence of that tiny room, everything suddenly stumbled to a halt as what he’d just walked in on seared itself upon his brain. Burning bright behind his eyelids when he slammed them shut, a hand slapped over them for good measure.
Because you were all bare, steam-slick skin. Glittering with the droplets of water that caught the light and shone as they trailed down your body in a way that made the image of him catching each one with his tongue flash across his mind, unbidden, entrancing him until his gaze had followed a shimmering path to where he'd discovered the hand buried between trembling thighs. Your fingers that halted their quick, jerking movements as your pretty features morphed from pleasure to stunned surprise. 
“Oh god -  bollocks - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-"
He was rambling. Stammering on his words like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, choking on the billows of steam he was breathing in as his face flushed with the sickening kind of heat that came with pure mortification and good fucking god, what the hell was he doing still standing there? 
“I’m sorry,” he continued, rooted in place despite every fibre of his being telling him to bolt. It burst out of him almost, jumbled and tumbling, all frantic to make you understand. “My name- I heard you say my name and I thought… it sounded like you were hurt and I know you like to handle your injuries alone but it sounded bad and I thought you could be bleeding out or dying and I just couldn’t–”
You were wrapping gentle fingers around his wrists before he could talk himself breathless, into an early grave with the way his pulse was hammering beneath flushed skin. Your voice fell even softer, barely rising over the sound of the water that was still pelting against the tiles, as you told him, “Steven, calm down. Look at me, it’s okay.” 
He wanted to resist, unwilling to face the weight of your disappointment, the shame that would only double tenfold when that harsh glare of yours undoubtedly pinned him with it, but he found himself compelled by a featherlight touch at his jaw, the arc of cheek, sweeping the damp curls from his eyes just as they fluttered open. 
Steven gulped as his stare settled on you, closer than he'd expected you to be, now wrapped up in a thread-bare towel that hid only enough skin for you to be considered decent but had him sending a prayer of thanks for to any god that would listen anyway. He didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise.
Not with the way you were actually looking at him. Touching him. 
He was already having trouble breathing properly, his stomach still flipping from the memory of you, your closeness to him now when your soft moans were still echoing around in his head. 
Steven, Steven, Steven. 
His heart had yet to return to its normal pace and as it stuttered and beat itself violently against the cage of his ribs, he wondered if it was possible to die from something like this. From the desire and longing trapped and blistering beneath his skin, a wicked hot thing that was trying to burn him from the inside out.
 It certainly felt like he could. 
Your expression grew anxious whilst you simply watched one another, gaze troubled and brow knit into a soft frown. Your lip drawn between your teeth in a way that made him have to swallow down the urge gently tug it free with his thumb, to soothe away the rawness with soft touches. An even softer kiss. 
Gods, he was pathetic. 
Even when he was expecting you to be angry at him, for that gentle calmness to drop any second to reveal disgust, he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching you, kissing you. Loving on you. He wanted to shake himself, to rub away the ache in his chest that worsened as your lips parted and he braced himself for you to tell him you couldn’t be around him after this. 
“It’s not you who should be apologising, Steven.” You told him instead, voice tinged with guilt, a hint of embarrassment. Nervous in a way he’d never seen before. And when your eyes dropped briefly to where your hands were still cradling his own you missed the way he blinked at you in stunned confusion. 
“I shouldn’t have been doing that - thinking about you like that - definitely not when you could hear…shit- I’m so fucking sorry you heard it and saw what you did. I get it if you don’t feel comfortable around me and you need a break or something, fuck - is that something you would want? Do you want me to go?” 
Steven didn’t even know what to say. His expression had morphed into something utterly dumbfounded. His brain screeching to a halt at your apology - your confession? 
It was spinning around inside his skull like a carousel, all bright flashing light and the swelling tinkling of fairytale music. Because surely it couldn’t be real right? He’d not really heard what he thought he had, he’d not heard you admitting that you think about him.
Maybe he’d been knocked out during the fight and this was a dream? He almost found it easier to believe.
Except for the fact that in his dreams he didn’t have Marc’s voice in his head - seething with frustration. He wasn’t being yelled at to say something. Say anything. He wasn’t getting stressed out by the irate stream of demands mixing with his own rapidly firing thoughts until they all muddled into something that felt an awful lot like the oncoming of a migraine. 
He wanted to snap at Marc to be quiet for just five bloody seconds but then he was raising his voice again - more worried this time - and it cut crystal clear through the rest of the noise. Sharp enough for Steven to finally understand what the other man had been desperately trying to snap his attention to. 
‘Jesus fucking christ Steven, she’s going to leave! She thinks you don’t want her - SAY SOMETHING.”
And Marc was right. You had drawn away from him, dropped your hands from his cheeks and tucked them into your sides, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding the vulnerable parts of yourself you’d only just worked up the courage to expose. 
Curling into yourself in the face of what you perceived as rejection. 
He watched in a throat-tight panic as you nodded solemnly and made to squeeze past him, reaching for the door that had swung back closed behind him from the force with which he had thrown it open. 
It was the brush of you against him that startled him back to life - a smack of reality cracking across his bewildered face that told him you were about to walk out of that door, out of their shitty hotel room and straight out his life if he didn’t stop you. 
Steven was whirling around before his mind could even register having told his legs to move. He caught at your wrist with a shaky hand , the touch of it feverish against your skin that had rapidly cooled once outside the heat of the shower - goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips despite the balmy air that swirled around them. 
You turned, fingers still grazing the door handle, and looked at him, wide eyed and apprehensive, unwillingly hopeful, and it was enough to make the muscles in his throat unlock. Words bubbling up and past his lips before he could even consider if they were the right ones. 
“Did you mean it?” He rasped. “ You think of me when you touch yourself?” 
There was silence for a second, maybe two, and by the way you sucked in a breath - lips parting as you stared at him - he suspected the question had been the last thing you expected to be asked. 
It was agony to stand there and wait and Steven tried his best not to let it show, tried not to breathe because every inhale was drenched in you. 
The scent of your shampoo and your body wash and your breath fanning across his lips when he subconsciously leaned closer. The weight of his heart that wasn’t really his anymore, hadn’t been since he met you, sat on his tongue. Ready to topple along with the desperate plea he was fighting to keep clamped behind his teeth. 
Please. Please tell me you think about me too - that you want me just as much as I want you.
And then, “I did,” you whispered, soft and hushed like you were worried if you spoke any louder it would ruin whatever was happening between you, “I do.” 
He surged forward and kissed you then. Both of you colliding with the door with the force of it, his lips crashing against yours like the world would spin off its axis if he didn’t have his mouth on you. It was a little clumsy but it still made your breath catch in your throat, made your body melt into his and your hands fly to clutch at the slopes of his shoulders as your surprise dissolved into something hungrier, the sensation of his mouth moving over yours dragging you under. 
It wasn’t a sweet, soft thing like Steven had always imagined kissing you would go, all romantic like pretty sunsets and doves flying, a choir singing in the background as he tenderly cradled your cheeks in his hands. 
It was tongue and teeth, months of repressed yearning bursting free and swallowing him whole, demanding that he devoured in turn. Making everything a little messy, touched with desperation. Frantic. 
He let you part his lips, let you flick your tongue, quick and dirty, against his own and lick the needy groan from his mouth that followed until he was breathless and his knees threatened to buckle. A hand dropping to your waist to palm at the curve of it, fisting tight at the cotton towel, and the other sliding from your cheek to grasp a handful of the hair at the back of your head. Both meant to keep you locked to him just as much as it was supposed to keep him grounded. 
Steven felt greedy with it, braver than he’d ever been with every little moan that slipped from your lips to his for him to swallow down and when you finally pulled back an inch gasping for breath, lips parted and expression looking entirely kiss-drunk, he felt like he’d found heaven. 
His field of reeds, in the way your eyes were shining.
The way your fingers trailed up his neck and tangled in his curls to keep him from straying too far.
“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, voice lovesick and bleeding awe, painting your mouth with a sparkling grin as he pressed each word to your lips when you tugged him back down to kiss him again.  “More beautiful than anyone or anything I’ve ever seen.” 
You sighed into him, the hand in his hair tilting his head so you could kiss him deeper, a little more demanding before your lips slipped to the corner of his mouth, his chin, his jaw, sliding down his throat to suck a bruise at the skin before dropping a sweet kiss over the mark that made his hips buck against you. 
It had a groan tearing through Steven’s chest when you pressed back, all silky, steam-damp skin and barely any material between you that suddenly felt that much less with the way it was clinging to you both. 
“Steven…please.” You breathed.
And gods, you sounded just as needy as he felt. 
So he hitched your leg high up at his waist and rolled his hips a little harder, a little more deliberate, drawing back just enough that he could watch how your lashes fluttered and your mouth dropped open, trying his best to take note of the exact angle and pressure that made you keen so he could do it over and over again. 
He could feel how wet you were, the bare heat of you soaking into his jeans, pressed tightly against where he was achingly hard beneath the denim and Steven felt himself twitch at every gorgeous sound that poured past your lips -  at the way you had snuck you hand between your two bodies without him noticing to palm at the thick outline of his cock. 
It made his jaw go slack from the pressure, brain fuzzy from the bolt of pleasure that skitted down his spine when you squeezed him just right and then he was curling himself over you, burying you into the door and mouthing sloppy kisses and obscene praise into the skin of your neck whilst he rocked his hips. 
He forced himself to bite back a whine when you pushed him back an inch, extracting yourself from his grasp so you could stand before him properly, eyes glossy and a touch wild, all panting breaths as your fingers curled around the hem of his shirt and tugged. 
“Need to feel more of you.”
And then you were yanking it over his head, throwing it somewhere to be forgotten about whilst you pressed your hands into the warmth of his chest and made a greedy noise of appreciation that threatened to make his heart burst, a groan rumbling in his throat in response when you dragged your nails ever so lightly across his stomach and down to the waistband of his jeans. 
His hands found yours then. Stopping them from popping the button beneath your fingertips, and when your eyes shot to his, the beginnings of the soft frown that shadowed them melting into something akin to surprise once you caught sight of him, he wondered if you could read the desperation that he was sure was plastered all over his face. 
Because it wasn't that Steven wanted to stop that had him catching at you. 
It was the utter assurance that if you got your hands on him he wouldn't last a fucking second that made his voice hoarse and his own hands tremble as he all but begged.
"Tell me more of what you think about… tell me what you want." 
And Steven didn't think he'd ever forget the way you looked at him then, eyes darker than he'd ever seen them, hungry. Lips kiss-swollen and parted as you sucked in a sharp breath. Looking so fucking sinful that it had him swallowing down a choked moan.  
You looked wrecked by his words. 
By him. 
He was almost embarrassed by just how close the sight drove him. There was a swell of something unforgivingly hot behind his ribs, searing in his stomach and his veins, all liquid gold and white flame, and he couldn’t resist re-capturing your mouth in a kiss that echoed just how helplessly he was affected by it all. 
You drew his hands up whilst his lips were busy curving over yours, pressing them to the place where the towel lay knotted against the warm flush of your chest and when he groaned at the implication, the way the material came that little bit looser at the slightest touch, you took advantage of his distraction to skim your mouth across his cheek and to the delicate curve of his ear. 
“I want you to take it off, want you to touch me” you murmured, breath hitching when he obeyed with quick fingers, worn fabric slipping away in a soft rush the same way his own breath exited his lungs. “Please.”  Added like it was possible he would even think of saying no, like his hands, large yet reverant, weren’t already exploring. Pulling shudders from your body with every light graze of his fingertips. “I think about it all the time.”
Steven was a goner. Utterly devoted to bending to every whim that you had, to acting out every thought that had popped into your head from whenever you had begun to want him until right then. He wanted to know it all. 
How could he not be when you were reacting to him so beautifully? 
Your fingers had left his to wander long ago so you could twist them into his hair instead. Using your hold to crush him into you further and kiss him breathless when he touched somewhere that made you arch, to tug just a little meanly at the soft strands when he lingered on his path to where you were apparently growing impatient for him, and by the time he was tracing the crease of your thighs you were both wound achingly tight, panting into each other’s mouths. 
He matched your moan when he finally slid his fingers through your folds, throat tight and something like pride flaring deep in his chest at the soaked heat he found there. At the soft, broken noise you made when he pressed gentle circles over your clit. 
“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered against your lips. “Tell me.”
Tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good. Tell me exactly how you picture it so I can give you everything you want. 
Tell me, tell me tell me.
“Fuck, yes, more– please - don’t stop.”  You rushed out, voice strained but he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t the prettiest Steven had ever heard it. Absolutely hypnotising and he was under its spell without question, ready to worship at your altar in any way you deemed fit. 
He kissed you with heavy-lidded eyes and open-mouthed, lips catching at yours in the briefest bursts because he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the way your chest heaved as he slipped a finger inside you, a second. 
The way your own stare glazed when you told him just how much pressure to use whilst he curled his fingers and had you choking on the words, clenching around him before you could even finish. 
You were feverish in his arms, mewling and arching as he picked up the pace and Steven almost lost his head at the state of you, trying his hardest to not bite his lip bloody when every flex of your hips into his hand had it pressing against his own need. He allowed himself to rock into you just once and then hastily pulled back as the pleasure burned white-hot, sliding his thumb a little firmer over your clit when you squirmed and whined at the loss of him. 
“I know, I know– m’sorry love.” He gasped, breathless, chest tight and voice shot. “You feel so fucking good– I can't–”
You would be the death of him, he was sure of it. His hands shook, fingers curling around the nape of your neck in an attempt to hide it, and there was this unfathomable want clawing at his insides so savagely that he could hardly move without the friction of his jeans threatening to send him over the edge. 
Bloody hell, you had him so fucking desperate he could scarcely think. 
You both trembled as his lips ghosted across your cheek, each breath hot in your ear, as his voice quivered. “What else– what else do you need from me?- I’ll give you anything you want, darling, please.” 
He barely registered the knock of your head falling back against the door, the whisper of a curse slipping past your lips, because at his words you had clamped tight enough around the twist of his fingers to make him shudder. Lashes fluttering at the way your nails bit deep into the muscles of his shoulders as the slick sound you being fucked on his hand grew over the roar of the shower. 
“I- I don’t- Steven, oh fuck.”
Maybe that’s what did it. The way you were so ready to fall apart for him, all pretty and messy and pleading something sinful for more, more, more. Maybe it was the way the evening light peeking in from the tiny window had begun to turn into shadows, hiding the way his cheekbones were swept with pink better than the clouds of steam ever could. 
Or maybe it was the fact that every time his name dripped off your tongue it made him feel so fucking wanted that he was delirious with it, his heart full and shining golden as you peeled back each of those strings of black tar insecurities that had choked the beating flesh for far too long.
Whatever it was, there was suddenly a new found confidence that burned through his veins, one that took every dirty thought swirling in his head and made him prepared to do them all. To give you anything you wanted, regardless of whether you were actually capable of forming the words for yourself. 
There was no missing the blaze of your stare caught on his lips as he spoke after all. 
Oh.
“Do you want my mouth?” Steven asked hoarsely against your throat. “Is that something you've thought about - you want me to taste you?” 
He barely waited for your desperate nod and then he was gone. Dropping to the floor and ignoring the flash of pain that the cold tile spears through his knees as he buried his face between your soaked thighs. 
The first flick of his tongue made your breath catch. The second had you twisting your fingers in the silk of his curls. A third had you tugging at him hard enough that Steven whined into you, the fingers that were dug into the meat of your thighs slipping to your ass to press you to him tighter, his hips thrusting against nothing whilst you bucked against the searing heat of his mouth, utterly uninhibited. 
The sight of it was maddening, it was divine. 
He still didn't quite believe this wasn't a dream. 
There was sweat beading at your hairline - glistening along the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts. He watched the way your free hand trailed the softest path to one of them and squeezed, felt the way your body reacted to the added sensation in the flutter of your walls around his fingers. Squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter, as he rubbed at the soft patch of tissue until your thighs quaked around his head and you grew liquid. 
Voice thread-bare when you whimpered that you couldn't take much more, that you were oh so close and please don't stop. 
He went to flame then. To desperation and insanity and burning, searing need to devour you whole and drink you down until he either drowned or you had nothing left to give. 
And just like you begged him to, he didn't stop until you spasmed and gushed around his fingers. Didn't stop when the call of his name cracked and broke as your voice gave out whilst he licked you through the violent crest of your climax until it's dying breaths and your body fell slack into the door. Propped up between the paint-chipped wood and Steven’s flushed body shoved tight against your own. 
He didn't stop until you jerked in his hold, gasping and pleading, your fingers eventually releasing their tense grip in his hair to slip down to his chin, tilting it. Away from your swollen cunt as he was made to look up at you.  
“Are you trying to kill me?” You laughed weakly, stunned gaze roving over every inch of him as you tried to catch your breath, and he wondered if he looked as wrecked as he felt before you. Wild haired and panting. On his knees with his eyes dazed and face coated glossy with you. 
“I'm sorry,” he rasped, not bothering to even try and appear like he was very sorry at all, “you just taste better than I ever dreamed you would.” 
Your eyes glazed a little at that, a dopey little smile playing at your mouth with it, as the first tendrils of hunger crept back into your expression alongside the tender amusement. “Fuck, Steven - who knew you were such a smooth talker?” 
He laughed, a bright burst, cheeks kissed pink with the heat of your words and the slightly smug feeling of satisfaction that rumbled through his chest as he watched you glow with pleasure before ducking his head. 
“I think that's all you, darling. I can't help it - not with the effect you have on me.” Steven mumbled, a soft and embarrassed grin tugging at his lips even whilst they trailed high over your shin to the crease behind your knee - rising up, up ,up to explore the warm skin of your inner thigh as his fingers swirled delicate little patterns at your ankle. 
He couldn't stop touching you, couldn't feed the ache fast enough that came with needing to do it more than he already was. 
And when his other hand swept the length of your leg to stroke over your belly you made a playful grab for it and brought it to your lips, eyes shining down at him at the way his lashes fluttered and his expression turned smitten before you tugged at him. Pulling him up your body until his jeans were scraping at your skin and his mouth was surrendering once more to yours in a syrup sweet kiss that burned deeper, more feverish, the longer it lasted. 
Steven let you wind around him, let you urge him closer and closer until he was crushing you against the door at your back- wood slippery with condensation. 
He let you roll your hips into his own and finally allowed himself to chase the pleasure with you as it renewed its intensity, let the thick outline of his cock rock against you until you were groaning into each other's mouths. Hands knotted in his hair and pearl-white teeth grazing the plush of his lip when you drew back to murmur. 
“I want you inside me– want to make you feel good. Please, let me show you the effect you have on me.” 
It sent a shock through him - ripped a low, guttural moan straight from his lungs that was followed by a heat-soaked curse that you took from him just as readily as you had everything else he'd given so far. 
He didn't even blink before asking. “Can you say that again?” 
You licked your lips and grinned, breath stuttering as he continued to move against you, fingers digging hard into the meat of your ass whilst you clung to him. “I need you inside me or I'm gonna lose my mind, it's all I've thought about for months - the way you'd feel- how you'd fuck me- oh gods.” 
Another desperate noise. “Fucking hell. Again. Please.” 
This time he didn't try to stop you when you reached for the last article of clothing keeping his body separated from yours.
There was the sharp clink of metal as you tore your hands from his hair to wrestle with his belt, your fingertips slipping over the leather whilst you fought to tug it free from the loops of his jeans before it fell to the tiled floor with a quiet thud and a clank. 
And then you were pushing his jeans down just far enough until he was able to shakily kick them off. His heart in his mouth as he straightened, utterly naked before you apart from the shadows that slanted over his skin. 
He felt a flicker - the ghosts of his insecurity passing over his face before he could blow them away like cobwebs- and prayed that you wouldn't notice. That you wouldn't mistake his hesitation for something else and even consider it to be directed at you. 
But instead it seemed that you understood. Your hands found his jaw and you drew him into a kiss that ached. A lovely, bruising thing that had him melting into you, any insecurities fleeing so fucking far away that he could barely remember what they felt like. 
You held him as tightly as you could and hummed in delight against his lips when he did the same and crushed you to his chest, the sound of it morphing into something needy as his cock throbbed, hot and smearing slick against your hip. 
“I want you, Steven, I don't have the perfect words to explain just how much right now… just know that I need you so badly it hurts– it's hurt from the moment I met you and I don't think it'll ever stop no matter how much I might have you.” 
Gods, you were threatening to undo him. 
You had said you didn't have the perfect words and then given him everything he had dreamed of. Everything he thought he would die still wanting and never get to hear. 
Steven swallowed hard, throat bobbing, and then he was bending down to lift you in his arms, the strength of a god thrumming through his muscles and large hands gripping beneath your thighs as you wound your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Clutching needily at him whilst he peppered your face with sweet, breathless kisses. 
“You can have me whenever you want,” he pressed the words into your jaw, the damp warmth of your cheeks as he walked you into the shower, murmuring the next ones over and over until the rush of the water threatened to drown them out, “I’m yours.” 
You went soft for him in the cradle of his arms at that. Stripped down to your barest bones in the face of his raw emotion and it made his heart flutter and thump all too fast behind his ribs when your voice trembled on a sigh his name, so sweet and lovely. 
Beneath the luke-warm spray and with cold tile at your back, you drew him closer, nudged your nose tenderly against his own and touched him as he fought to commit it all to memory. The way he felt - burning with each and every stroke of hand, each part of him alight as you murmured beautiful affections against his mouth - at the intimacy of it all. 
The image of you that he was sure not even in death could take from him when it eventually came - eyes bright as jewels, lips swollen with his kisses, all lush, silken skin that shone under the weak stream of light the evening had yet to swallow. Droplets of water clinging to your hair and lashes like crystals. You looked like something ethereal, something otherworldly and untouchable, and the privilege he felt in being the one to see you that way, to contribute to the way you were a gorgeous mess, felt like something holy. 
It was almost too much and Steven hissed sharply through his teeth when you finally guided him into you, a whimper caught in his chest and eyes screwed shut as you lowered yourself down inch by inch until his hips met yours. He felt like he was on fire, the warmth that had been blooming in his gut morphing into something violent and unimaginable that had his body tensing as he struggled not to finish before he’d even started. Head falling against your shoulder just before he felt your lips brush against his temple, parting on a rushed exhale. 
“Oh,” you breathed, “fuck, Steven.”
At least, it seemed that you were in just as bad shape as he was. He’d probably say something similar if he could remember how to speak. 
But his mind had splintered. Shattered apart to fragments and the only thing he could focus on was the way you were surrounding him- all slick, tight heat and the overwhelming sensation that burst through his chest of all his lost pieces suddenly slotting into place, like you were a part of his soul he wasn’t aware he was missing until you were finally joined once more. 
“I’m sorry, I just need a minute.” He stuttered, voice hoarse and eyes blown wide, endlessly dark when he peered up at you. Half adoring, half pleading. “I want to make it good for you, you just feel so–gods, you feel too good.” 
He could only moan when you kissed him, a filthy sound that would have had his cheeks flushing scarlet had he not been so out of his mind. Could only stare at you like you were pure magic taken form - no god or pact needed for whatever it was running through your veins - as you threaded your fingers through his hair and whispered. “It’s okay, Steven, it’s okay. It’s already so good, christ–you feel amazing, just let go for me, I want to feel it.” 
It made his desperation threaten to win over. Head spinning as he dragged himself back out of you before surging back in, tightening his grip on your ass and lifting you up higher so he could do it again and again and again. Each thrust sliding you further up the tiles and pulling a strangled noise from the back of your throat that he quickly stole with greedy lips moulded over your own. 
It started slow, deliberate and devastating, and then turned faster. Needier and unrestrained. The sound of panting breaths and skin on skin rising above the dull roar of water pelting against the tiled floor. Open mouthed kisses that were forced to come to an end because all the oxygen felt like it had fled both of your lungs, punched out everytime you slammed yourself down to meet the frantic rolling of his hips. 
Steven had never felt anything like it and it was dangerously close to annihilating him completely. 
There were wicked bolts of something animalistic, a feral rush of desire, threatening to weaken his knees and you gasped in surprise, legs clenching tight at his waist, when he moved to hold you with just one arm banded around across your back as his other hand slammed against the wall for support. 
It changed the angle that he speared into you with and with the next thrust that came you were sobbing for him, seizing up like he’d plunged into the heart of your pleasure and pierced it - letting it flow out to the farthest reaches of you until you were curling into the solid press of him against you. Fingers in his hair and teeth searing a mark into his shoulder. 
“Steven,” you whimpered and fuck, you sounded just as overwhelmed by it as he felt. Shaking in his arms as the heat wrapping around you both grew and grew. “Steven, Steven, Steven.”
It made him choke on his tongue, eyes rolling back at the way you were clenching around him as his thrusts became deeper, greedier. His cock harder than it had ever been whilst you made a mess of his stomach and his thighs and Steven couldn’t get enough, He was so close to losing his mind, so close to devouring you entirely and begging you to ruin him because every sound you made, every sweet little uh,uh,uh that tumbled past your lips was unlocking something wild tucked deep inside him that he was helpless to rein back. That had him babbling nonsense, incoherent words that dripped down on you like scalding hot honey. 
And then he latched his mouth to your nipple, relishing the way you jerked as he flicked his tongue and scraped his teeth across the peak until you mewled before trailing a path of fire up to your collar bones and then higher again to the tender skin of your throat. Sucking a kiss there that had you keening and shone like a bruise when he drew back to meet your burning stare.
“Touch yourself.” Steven begged, more than a little desperate because you were so tight around him and he was so fucking close. Stomach quivering and flooding with golden heat. “Want you to show me– want to see how you touched yourself all those times you thought about this.” 
You nodded slowly as if dazed by the request, lips parted and eyes gleaming dark. But you were quick to comply. Quick to thrust a shaky hand down to where he was fucking up into you, to the crest of your sex where you were soaked and scorching like a furnace, and once you were there, your fingers drew quick, sloppy circles to your clit that had you throwing your head back with a loud cry of his name whilst he watched, lust drunk and in awe. 
“Shit, shit shit.” Each word that bubbled its way up your throat was ragged, edging on breathless as your back arched like a bow. “Steven, oh my god, I’m gonna–”
He surged up before you could finish, hand tearing away from the wall to tangle itself in your wet hair so he could drag your mouth to his and kiss you as you came. Holding you fiercely in place and groaning against your lips, swallowing down your own noises whilst your cunt fluttered around him, convulsing over and over until his movements grew frantic and messy. Warmth pulsing brightly in his groin and his stomach and his too tight chest. 
It was too much - he was bordering on delirious. Everything was hot and wet and he was wound so tight that any moment it felt like he’d explode. Burst apart like confetti. It took every ounce of strength he had to stave off his own release so he could extend yours by letting the frantic rhythm of his snapping thrusts morph into a slow, intense grind that stole the breath from your chest and made it feel like he was melding himself to your body. Like you were burying into each other so deep that you would never truly be able to remove the imprint of the other afterwards. 
There was a flash of pain from your nails scratching down his scalp and across the broad sweep of his shoulders, teeth scoring the softness of his bottom lip whilst shudders wracked your frame and it startled him, the low, starving noise it drew from his mouth. Knocked him flat when you drew the stinging flesh into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the marks you had left behind, and began to raise and lower yourself up and down on his cock that little bit faster despite the way he could feel the muscles of your thighs trembling around his waist. 
And when you cupped his cheeks, eyes burning with a wicked hunger whilst you whispered against his mouth, Steven was utterly lost. 
“C’mon Steven, let go,” you encouraged him, voice wrecked. Desperate. “Want you to come for me, I want to feel it, please.”
He fell apart for you then, crashed into bliss with his arms winding achingly tight around you as his hips stuttered and then came to an almost stop, twitching desperately and fused unyieldingly to your own. His vision going dark and your name like a prayer that he gasped into your skin over and over. 
And when it all eventually calmed, the crashing of his heart beat against his ribs and your chaotic breaths, the exhaustion had him almost falling to the shower floor with you. Both of you slipping down the wall just an inch or two before he managed to right himself on weak legs to the sound of your startled laugh. 
It wasn’t until he had set you down and moved to clean you up, massaging with gentle hands and tender sweeping kisses all the places that he’d gripped so tightly, the places where you were starting to bare his marks that had him frowning apologetically, that it finally hit him that the shower was running cold. You were both being pelted with what felt like tiny shards of ice against your rapidly cooling skin and you snorted a laugh when he yelped in shock and immediately dragged you out of there, eyeing him with a sticky-sweet kind of affection as he snatched the thickest towel he could kind and wrapped it around you before pulling you close in an attempt to warm you up. 
The way you were looking up at him was making his chest ache, filling his lungs up with an adoring kind of wonder, the kind that sprouted wildflowers and soft vines that breached through all his organs to wrap around his ribs. Suffocating him in the best way with just how much he was in love with you. 
It made it impossible for him not to ask. “Can I kiss you?” 
And if he thought that you would laugh at him considering everything that had just happened, that only moments ago he’d been buried inside you, then he was delighted to be proven wrong. Because you were beaming at him the second the question rushed past his lips, eyes sparkling in the near dark of the tiny, damp bathroom. 
“Please.” 
So he kissed you like he’d always wanted to the first time, slipping his fingers through the wet tangle of your hair to cradle your head whilst his lips pressed sweetly and almost shy  against your own. It unfurled like it held its own magic, the type that could stop time and make him feel like he was floating, tingles rushing all through his body until he was lightheaded and needed to draw back before he lost his breath to the irresistible pull of it all. 
You just stood leaning into one another for a while, foreheads resting together, noses nudging each other lazily alongside the occasional soft brush of lips. And then you were wrapping him up in a towel of his own and leading him to the bed, using an extra towel to carefully dry him with a reverence that had his heart flip flopping in his chest and a blush rise high on his cheeks. He melted when you kissed him, little butterfly presses to his arms and chest before you pulled a clean sweater over his head, his thighs and his hips when he lifted them for you to pull his sweatpants on. 
And once Steven had returned the favour, he was drawing you to him in the middle of the bed, your back to his chest and the food that had long gone cold balanced precariously on the blanket pooled around you both. He fed you bites of chorizo and feta fries, coated in herbs and sprinkled with pomegranate, whilst an old movie played and when those three words fell from his lips, without thought and as easy as breathing, Stevens was no longer afraid. 
No longer felt in over his head. 
He murmured against your hair. “I love you.” And swallowed the lump that threatened to form in his throat when you turned and smiled, your fingers touching his face like he was something precious you had spent a lifetime yearning for before giving him the answer to a question he’d always thought he’d have to ignore for the rest of his life to save his own heart. 
“I love you too.” 
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vintagemulti · 3 months
Text
shards and splinters
parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader
desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.
warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx
a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x
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the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.
he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.
there was nothing you could have done, marc.
“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”
steven sighed, and went quiet.
“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”
marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.
he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.
steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.
are you going to wallow here forever?
marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.
“fuck off.”
khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.
“fuck off.” he repeated.
and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?
“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”
khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?
“no.”
perhaps you should.
marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.
“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”
if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.
and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.
she’s alive?
“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”
his eyes slipped into the back of his head.
steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.
-
“this feels so fucking weird.”
you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.
i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.
you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.
you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.
“where is he?”
it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.
humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.
what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.
harrow was less than two feet away from you.
swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.
but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.
the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.
it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?
apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.
this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.
his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.
you could slither away too, though.
still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.
as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.
we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.
nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.
this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.
perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.
your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.
“what is harrow’s plan?”
he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.
“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.
he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.
you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”
hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.
for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.
why did you marry him?
it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.
“what?”
marc. why did you marry him?
you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.
i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.
“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”
and?
“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”
the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.
“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”
he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?
“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.
he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.
i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”
you regret it?
“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.
oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.
it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”
didn’t it take a while to get used to?
the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.
“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.
he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”
hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.
“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.
i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.
“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.
take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.
you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”
you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?
“no.”
then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.
you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.
“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”
a beat. hathor didn’t reply.
“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”
you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.
“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.
he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”
tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.
“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.
and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”
why did you hate him?
you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.
and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.
he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.
but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.
and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”
hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.
you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.
her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”
hathor shook her head. you are a human being.
there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.
hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.
is now a bad time, human?
you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”
what do i want? there’s a long list.
even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”
hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.
the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.
i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.
just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.
your heart stopped.
marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…
“y/n!”
just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.
“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.
you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.
he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.
marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.
“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”
“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”
he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.
“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”
barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.
it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.
but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.
if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.
“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.
“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”
he blinked. a beat.
“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”
“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”
steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”
he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.
“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”
-
you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.
but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.
you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.
but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.
it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.
the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.
he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.
‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.
it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;
it wasn’t you.
well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.
you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.
trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.
and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.
so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.
what a lovely shopping list, you thought.
-
it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.
with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.
the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.
of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.
no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.
a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.
the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.
“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”
beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.
oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?
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peterthepark · 2 years
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venus, planet of love
pairing: steven grant x f!reader
tags: 18+ graphic smut with plot, mentions of marc and khonshu, mentions of therapy and brief panic attack depiction, all the fluffy feels, mutual pining, idiots in love, inexperienced!steven and reader, the l-bomb and lovey dovey sex, aftercare, about 9k word count teehee, friends to lovers
summary: art models are surprisingly hard to come by in london. maybe they just don’t want to work with you. maybe they’re intimidated. steven thinks you’re pretty and marc thinks it’s time to act on it. who knew steven grant would be up for a portrait?
note: first moonknight fic!!! here’s to many more :) feedback and reblogs are 100% appreciated, thanks!
- masterlist - steven grant playlist
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“It just looks so smooth, like I want to touch it.”
“What? Her arse?”
The Rokeby Venus stands out as striking against the patterned red wallpaper of the gallery. The painted depiction of Venus is a stark paste of white, sensual and vividly nude as your eyes follow the curvature of brushstrokes on her backside. The soft greys, reds and creams compliment the fleshy paraphernalia of the painting; your starry eyes wander in a mixture of awe and engrossment, while your fidgeting friend beside you finds his gaze on another work of wonder.
“I’m appreciating the art, Steven. Not the arse.” 
The corners of your lips tweak into something in the sorts of regale as you deliberately scribble onto your notepad, the sound of the number-two pencil against paper filling the eerie solitude of the museum. Steven’s attentive stare follows the tiny scrunching of your nose and soon, he finds himself amused at how your expression slowly shifts into unmistakable concentration. 
It’s endearing. 
Especially when he sees the tip of your tongue poke out from between your lips, nestling against the bottom of one of your front teeth. 
Adorable. 
“Oh, you’d loathe the ancient Egypt exhibit then. Not a tad bit of arses there.” Steven finally catches your eye, your head lifting from hunched shoulders to listen to him. His comment draws a quiet chuckle out of you, to which you motion for him to go on. He doesn’t hesitate. “Well, I mean, nudity had a proper place and time then. The Egyptians prided themselves in — in fashion, in jewels and beads, fabric and linens. Really, nudity was practically associated with work or oftentimes, social status. Royalty loved to dress up. You don’t see many naked ushabti, yeah?”
The strewn sentences leave him with a deep exhale, mouth parting as he gauges your reaction carefully. You’ve always adored his bursts of passion. Youthful, exciting, like the first tall flame of a new candlelight.
Steven makes an effort to ignore the image of Marc harshly rubbing his temples in the golden frame of the painting.
“I don’t think Velázquez intended nudity to be the central theme.” You mindlessly tuck the notepad into the tote bag on your shoulder. The movement causes your elbow to brush against Steven’s forearm, and he gulps roughly at the tingling of his skin. “Nor do I think it’s completely about Venus.”
“Whaddya think then?” 
You quirk a brow at his question. “I think… I mean, it’s obviously an allusion to sexuality and the aesthetic of it. But not sex. More like—”
“Beauty.”
You glance at him briefly, voice getting caught in your throat as you lose your train of thought just by looking at him.
“Yeah. Beauty, women, attraction, it’s all very speculative…” 
His side profile is something you’ll never get used to. The singular curl that unravels down his forehead knocks the wind right out of you, the dark chocolate strand begging to be wrapped around your finger and the rest carded through your palms.
Sometimes, you think he deserves a museum exhibit of his own, dedicated to his constant busy mind and to the soft yet simultaneously roughened details of his face. 
Maybe most of the time, actually.
Steven doesn’t notice the stumble in your body language, too swept up taking the painting in for what feels like the hundredth time but really, his mind can’t stop replaying how ‘sex’ had rolled off of your tongue so beautifully, and now how Marc won’t stop fucking pestering him about growing some balls and manning up tonight.
His watch beeps and pulls you both from your respective trances while Marc sends him a hard glare through the reflection of the watchface. “Oh, bollocks.” Steven sighs out, jaw clenching as anxiety takes over the tranquility of his features. 
You turn to him with knitted eyebrows. “Problem?”
“Yeah, think we’ve got to run.” He frowns, gesturing for you to follow him to the front of the exhibit. “Donna’s gonna have my head tomorrow for bringing you ‘round again, love.”
“S’not like I’m breaking and entering.” You playfully smirk at him as you clutch your bag, jutting one foot in front of the other as he hastily takes you through the employee exit and resets the alarm on the door. “And if I did want to rob this place, I would’ve done it by now. No offense.”
“None taken.” He breathes out through a winded laugh, fiddling with the zipper at the bottom of his collared jacket. He treads carefully beside you in the alleyway. “Mind you, as long as you leave the gift shop out of it, yeah?”
The streetlamps cast shadows over your face, but he finds himself gazing at you even through all the darkness.
A lingering stare. An appreciative smile. A mirroring in how you both tilt your heads to the side ever so slightly. But Steven sees the second hand embarrassment on Marc’s face transcend into the golden swirls of puddles on the cobblestone, his eyes screwed shut as a pained scoff leaves him.
Could’ve kissed her right now, Steven. 
Your toothy grin is all in one airy and lighthearted. Despite Marc’s unmistakable jabs, he’s proud of at least one thing: 
Making you smile.
“Of course, silly.”
No one really expects a friendship between an art student and a gift shop-ist from the National Gallery to work in a manner that is so effortless, so easy, as if it were like clockwork.
Except, the hour hand and the minute hand will never line up. 
Because you’re semi-convinced that Steven doesn’t harbor any sort of attraction towards you, nothing more than feelings of friendliness and a dash of awkwardness. But then there’s that other part of you, the part that notices the stolen glances, how he looks at you all doe-eyed and regardful even when you have nothing to say, how he remembers your breakfast order every single day despite having trouble with his own, how your number is the only other emergency contact in his phone besides his mom who hasn’t called him back once. Hell, you’ve even been friends long enough to earn an alligator emoji beside your name. What a rarity.
Just friends. That’s all it could and should be. 
Steven thinks you’d never date a bloke like him. Marc is sold on the idea that you have feelings for Steven, in which the tension, he states, is painfully and terribly obvious. It’s difficult to watch, even from that other dimension. And Khonshu, well, that guy just thinks that the three of you are all bloody idiots. 
You try to push down the odd fluttering of your stomach when Steven opens the door to your car for you. He always does. You’re used to the chivalry, the old-fashioned kindness, but something about how he’s doing it tonight — hand hovering over the small of your back, then over your head as you dip into the driver’s seat while he watches you intently, wrinkles smoothing over his tan skin and eyes softening.
You look up at him before he shuts your door. “Tea at mine?” 
“Only if I get to make it this time.”
You scoff in offense, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he comes around to the passenger side then buckles himself in. “What was wrong last time?”
“Honestly, Y/N?”
“Yes, honestly!” You slightly turn up the radio, raising your brows at Steven as he immediately changes the station.
He sputters through a chuckle before he can even finish his sentence. “Tasted absolutely rubbish, I tell you!”
“Piss off!”
Abruptly, you both laugh heartily at that, shoulders bouncing as Steven recalls the memory of how awful it not only felt in his mouth, but how awful the brew looked in general. He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from your face. Unable to stop replaying your sweet giggle that he drew out of you over and over again, and how his name falls from you like a bubbly chant as you reach over the console and slap his arm. Unable to stop his fingers from twitching against his thigh because he just wants nothing but to reach out and tuck that annoying wisp of hair behind your ear and tell you how much you truly mean to him.
The moonlight looks pretty on you.
Steven likes the comfort of your flat more than his own. There’s something remarkable about seeing a bed without ankle restraints and chains, or having sand stuck to the soles of his feet as he pads around the kitchen for once. Just you, him, an ugly red sofa, and the mess of unfinished canvases on your floor. Your lips twitch when he reaches around to help you get something off of the top shelf in your cupboard, his large palm gently pressing against your upper back when he pulls away to hand you a porcelain cup. 
You pour from the teapot. Steven adds an acceptable amount of milk. One long sip. Sigh of relief. Another sip. Then, smile at each other behind your delicate cups.
Like clockwork.
His kind voice feels warmer than the tea in your hands. “I enjoyed today.” Steven admits, leaning back against the counter and crossing his ankles as he speaks into his cup. 
You study the sincere tenderness in his dark irises. “I did too.” For a moment, the silence is nice. It’s comforting. You’re a safe haven, even as he fidgets nervously, drumming his fingers against the cool surface as you reluctantly look away from each other. Yet the longer you linger in the quiet, the louder the thoughts in your mind get. Your pinched voice comes out rushed and unsure. “Are you still seeing that therapist?” Steven tilts his head, unable to recognize your tone. 
“Seeing her? What do you mean?”
“Like, um, the sessions and stuff.” You chuckle softly, waving a dismissive hand at that with widening eyes. “Not in — in that way. I mean, are you?”
Why is she asking?
“Oh, goodness. No. Absolutely not.” Steven‘s dark eyebrows shoot upwards. His hold on the porcelain teacup tightens, knuckles tensing. “Why’s that?” 
You blink rapidly. “Just wondering.”
“We weren’t compatible. Professionally.” He sends you a close-lipped smile. It’s demure, and for some reason, nostalgic. “She had this — this big, caged bird in the room with us. Like a bloody parrot or something.” Then, he shrugs, eyes darting across the room with what seems to be an amused smirk as if you’re supposed to understand this implied sort of inside joke. “Wasn’t very soothing. Probably gonna find someone else in the time being, you know, hopefully with a… nicer therapy animal. Preferably one that doesn’t repeat everything that I say.” You nod slowly, taking another sip while he clears his throat. “And you? How’s your project coming along, dear?”
You snort. “Haven’t even drawn a single thing.” Your shoulders deflate as you sigh dramatically. “Due in a week, not a single idea in mind, canvas still as empty as ever.”
“You’d think it would be easy to find a model. Plenty of nudists in London.”
“Yeah, well, none of them want to be painted.”
“Then they must be intimidated.”
A tiny clink fills the air when you set the cup of tea onto the table behind you, arms crossing over your chest as you tuck your hands by your hips. The flat feels chilly beneath the illumination of the kitchen lamp. Steven feels too far away. But at the same time, he’s here. Here, in the tiny room, by the stove, dark circles beneath his lower lashes like he hasn’t slept in years, muscles straining against his jacket.
“And why would they be intimidated?”
If Khonshu could swallow him whole, this would be the perfect time for it. If Marc wanted to take the body, he’d let him. But the alters stay out of it, and for once, Steven longs for their interference. He can’t escape the way you stare at him, innocently chewing on your bottom lip as you await his response patiently. You don’t prod, just let time pass. Steven doesn’t know which is worse. The fridge rumbles. The shower next door shuts off. The cars outside whizz by. The moon peeks out from the blinds. There’s a wailing siren in the distance, but nothing is louder than the heartbeat drumming against your chest as Steven swipes a wet thumb over his mouth and gazes out the cracked window above your sink.
“Because — well, you’re a talented painter. You’re good, good at what you do and you — you’re intentional.” He locks eyes with you in the midst of his ramblings. “You’re purposeful in how you study people, how you look at them, memorizing every flaw and every detail between. You capture beauty, um, that — that I can’t even see and I don’t know how…” He lets out a nervous laugh, jaw clenching under the weight of gritted teeth. “I don’t know how anyone can just sit there and watch you paint without melting on the spot.”
Keep going.
“Steven…”
“You intimidate because you’re beautiful. And beauty makes people nervous, Y/N.” He clasps a hand over his heart, not because the words strike him deeply, but to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.
You collect your weight from the table, using your heel to slowly push yourself towards Steven and stand in front of him. You curiously toe at his white sock with your own, avoiding his gaze as you uncross your arms from your chest and entangle them behind your back with a frown.
“Do I intimidate you?”
Khonshu isn’t even in the kitchen anymore, and Marc is speechless. He can’t even watch.
At first, Steven’s voice comes out as small. And had you not been watching the parting of his lips, it easily could’ve been mistaken as the wind knocking against the walls. “Yes.” 
“Is it because you think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’re more than that.”
“Honestly, I don’t think I am.”
Steven chuckles, shaking his head. His pupils are heavily dilated, darker than normal. “Trust me, you are.”
“Prove it.” You pick a stray thread off of his shirt, goosebumps erupting across his soft skin as your cold fingertips leave him. His eyes follow the motion before they flicker back to your face. “Sit on that sofa and let me paint you.” Steven can’t pinpoint the emotions behind your words. Close to playful. Far from joking. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious, but you’re grasping at paintbrushes with a glowing smile and quickly tying an apron around your waist that leaves him blushing shamelessly. 
“You do not want to paint me.” He awkwardly huffs out, raising his hands at you before you’re pouting at him. “Y/N, it would just be a waste of canvas.”
“And why would I not wanna paint you?” 
You pull your hair up into a ponytail, ignoring how Steven’s gaze trails up your exposed arms and the curve of your shoulders. You inhale deeply, and just from the way your throat flexes in the shadows, Steven suddenly brings himself to sit on the mass of pillows atop of the velvet couch. He watches you drag an easel out from your closet, placing it right by the footrest and the swiveling stool across from him. There’s a cart filled with discarded jars of scotch, tubes of different paint mediums and a wooden palette marked with an array of clashing colors beside you, an attest to the acrylic staining the Persian rug beneath your feet.
“Because I’m just me. Just Steven.”
Your eyes pop out from over the canvas.
“Well, I think ‘just Steven’ is perfect.” 
He winces, lines creasing together on his forehead. “So what do I do now? Just — just pose, or…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, teeth making indents on his bottom lip. “Do I smile? What do — what do your models usually do?”
“Well, most of the time, they’re usually half-naked and tend to be as still as a statue.”
“Oh.”
You peer back at him again, gaze full of sincerity and concern as he self-consciously situates his position on the couch. “But you don’t need to follow the naked part. Just the latter, okay?” 
“Alrighty then.”
He can feel the warmth of your smile radiating even from six feet away. “Relax your jaw. Don’t look so scared, the more natural the better.”
His pupils dart around the room, taking in your flat as if it’s the first time he’s been here. He can’t look at you. He can’t. Not when you’re concentrating on him like that, scouring the details of his features, the lines and moles that mark his face, the exhaustion, surveying the slump of his spine like that was meant to be beautiful to you.
Would you capture all his flaws and blemishes then turn them into compliments?
“I told you I’m intimidated.” Steven quips, squaring his shoulders when he sees your paintbrush take the first glide across the blank canvas. 
“And I told you that there’s nothing to be intimidated about.”
“You know, I quite hate it when you get down on yourself like that.” He glares at you with a heavy shrug. Even when he’s clearly upset at you, Steven has a certain calmness to him. 
He’s the striking resemblance of lightning without the explosiveness of thunder. 
You don’t say anything, just swirl a mixture of colors onto the battered palette as you return back to the painting. He can see your tongue prodding against the inside of your cheek, rumination coating your mind in the same manner that hues of beige, black and pink coat his portrait. Steven lets the silence talk. He lets you bask in the quiescence for the sake of your art, for the sake of peace and his embarrassing desire to get this over with. But at the same time, he doesn’t want this to end.
Sure, he hates the fleeting eye contact. But come tomorrow, you won’t be staring at him like this — won’t smile at him with such tenderness and intention, won’t let your gaze wander for longer than a best friend would. Come tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast together while an ABBA record echoes from the living room, then you’re driving him to work with morning road rage and leaving for a nine a.m. lecture as if domesticity didn’t have an effect on you like it did on Steven. 
There, you won’t study him like he’s the most interesting creature on the planet. But come tomorrow, he’ll continue to read you like you’re the rarest text of Egyptian lore. 
“You intimidate me too, you know.” 
Could you hear the cogs in his brain? Was this an answer to all of his speculations? Curiously, Steven turns his feet towards you. His ears perk up, full brows raising at your unanticipated statement. “What?” 
“Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. 
“Now why would I do that?”
This time, your face is completely blocked by the easel. You make it purposeful so he can’t discern your expression, even as the brush moves in slow and heavy strokes against the canvas. 
“I suppose for the same reason you find me intimidating.“
The sound of wet paint dabs onto the surface and drowns out your shallow breaths in the midst of Steven’s surprise.
“You find me… pretty?”
The scoff at the end of his question makes you cringe. Maybe you’ve said too much. Maybe you’ve stepped a line, or maybe he thinks this is all too odd. 
Your lips flutter upwards solemnly as you repeat his exact words from earlier. 
“I think you’re more than that.”
His heart could absolutely burst from his chest right now. He’s helplessly pinching at the bridge of his nose, unsure where to put his hands and why his hair suddenly feels so flat against his head. The couch beneath him is stiff, uncomfortable against his arse as he realizes that he’s been sitting in the same spot for too long. And now, Khonshu is simply leaning over your shoulder to look at the easel, thrumming with critique and amusement as the God towers over your hunched frame on the stool.
“Damn it.” Steven groans, placing a fist over his chest as he fidgets erratically. His eyes narrow, lips pursing together as he tries to blink back the chaos in his mind and fights off the urge to hand the reins to Marc. “God, I think I’m having a panic attack right now.”
“What?” You immediately place your brush down, peeking around the side of the canvas as Steven tries to even out his breathing. The stool nearly clatters to the floor when you stand and take long strides to his aid with wide eyes. “Do you need some air? I can — I can open a window, or — water? Water would be good?” He nods feverishly, tearing his gaze away from you and directing it to the stained carpet. You rush over to the sink, flicking on the tap and clumsily filling up a mug that Steven had given you from the gift shop. “Okay. Here, here.”
The dinosaur pun on the front isn’t so funny anymore when water sloshes over the rim as you hand it to him. He takes loud gulps as you cup your hand below his chin and catch the excess from the corners of his mouth.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — are you okay? What happened back there?”
You called me pretty, he wants to say. You don’t think I’m awful-looking, he wants to say. You think that I’m worth a second glance and worth all those lingering stares that I thought were parts of my imagination, he wants to say.
But instead, he saves those remarks for another time, and settles on one that seems fitting for the moment.
“I got intimidated.”
And you laugh. It’s brief and small, yet large enough to mend the brokenness of Steven’s haywiring brain when you set his mug down on the footrest and look down at him from where he sits awkwardly on your couch. The overhead light creates an unconventional halo behind your crown of hair, your shadow embracing the sunken essence of Steven’s face as he quietly admires you.
You send him a lopsided smile, dimples creating crescent moons around your lips and the bulb of your nose as anxious fingers twitch at your sides. “I’m no Venus.”
“Goddess or planet?”
He draws another chuckle out of you.
“Goddess, I think.”
“Well, Y/N, gods and goddesses are fairly overrated anyways.”
You bite your lip. “And if I’m a planet, then what does that make you?”
Steven lets his stare drop from your face, curls dropping against the shine of his forehead as he dusts away the lint on his pants. You study his distracted form, leg brushing against his bent knees as your stance hovers over him. He sighs shakily at the sensation, but then your fingers shift to wrap around the roughened hands that are interlocked together in his lap, thumbs hesitantly ghosting over his knuckles with a shyness he’s never seen on you. 
The notion causes him to ever-so-slightly lift his head. Those big, brown eyes meet yours in the humming of your living room, and the hand that’s wrapped around his own slowly travels up to the underside of his jaw. You can feel his muscles move beneath your gentle touch when his warm cheek leans into your palm, staining his skin with paint. 
“Must make me the idiot who sits in the observatory all day, all night, watching in awe through a telescope.” He closes his eyes when your fingers trace his skin, shifting higher and higher until you languidly card your nails through his dark curls. His head tilts back submissively with the soft action, nose pointing up at you as bliss falls upon his features. “Sounds a bit creepy now that I say it out loud.”
“You know people say that Venus is hellish, right?”
His eyelids flutter open, long lashes tickling you. “You’re pretty hellish to me.”
“I’m offended.”
“Don’t be.” He whispers, resting his hand against your outer thigh. 
Both of your heads follow the motion, as if his body had betrayed what he was trying so hard not to do — touch you, feel your heat against his, let his touch wander where his mind shouldn’t. But he can’t rewind time, and he certainly can’t stop how his palm stretches over your upper leg until it rests upon your hip. 
“Steven…” You stroke his cheek with amorous yearning, smudging the space underneath his eye with a shade of pastel pink. 
“Don’t — don’t say my name like that, love. Please, don’t.” Air escapes from his nostrils, his words fall from his lips in a longing tone laced with subtle desperation. But nothing is subtle anymore. Not with how he looks up at you like you’re the brightest star in the universe, staring at you like how you stare at famous masterpieces in a museum or even the works of art that never get noticed, but when they are, everything just makes sense. “You say it like…”
Now this all makes sense.
“Say it like what?”
“As if it’s more than my — more than just a bloody name.” Steven’s eyebrows furrow deeply, yet somehow he looks softer. 
“More than just Steven with a V?” He laughs at that, a deep rumble that vibrates through his belly and throat as his eyes never leave yours. “Hey, I like saying your name.”
Your fingers against his bottom lip bring him back to this painless reality, and the tension isn’t so unbearable when you stain his sun-kissed skin blue in the dull light above the sofa.
“No… not that.” Both of your hands cup his cheeks, ears tucked into the spaces between your curling digits as you caress his chin with your thumbs. Your pupils lull him into hypnosis, and he finds himself unable to stop gazing at the constellations in your irises. “You say it as if you like me.”
Fucking hell, Steven.
His hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you. 
“I do like you.”
“No, like — like more…”
“More than a friend?” 
“Yeah.” His blinks grow rapidly while his face contorts into something of shock and perplexity, teeth on display as he shoots you a panicked look. “Do you?”
“Do I? Steven, I’ve…” An exhausted chuckle racks through you. 
A pathetic noise of protest bubbles out of him when your palms leave his jaw. The cold isn’t so welcoming, and neither is the rest of your flat when you turn your back on him to tousle your hair with pent-up frustration. Meanwhile, Khonshu lingers in the hallways and curiously sorts through your vintage records. Marc wants nothing to do with this and resorts to plugging his ears.
Steven, here and now, is alone — alone with you and a giant, undeniable problem with the word ‘FEELINGS’ stamped right on top of it. He’s been decent about how to deal with emotions. He knows where his heart is, what makes his brain light up and what grows butterflies in his stomach. And even when you pace the room in worrisome, dizzying circles, all of the above outweighs the anxiety that shelters his bones.
“Y/N, dear, will you please sit down?” You don’t listen. He allows you two more laps around the couch and footrest until he beckons to you again. “Y/N.” Another two, then Steven himself is trailing behind your haste steps. “Y/N, what is the matter with you?” He takes the liberty of grabbing your wrist, pulling you back before you can escape once again. He squeezes your arm. Once, twice, till he understands that you’re fully listening. “Stop it, you.”
Normally, he’s the one running. But something about the way you look at him makes him want to stay, something about how your lips part and how you roll your bottom lip between your teeth then let it bounce back to its natural position makes him all hazy-eyed and helpless when your own eyes flicker to his mouth. You don’t know where to look, yet you strive to take in every single detail of him because you’ve never stood this close to one another.
You’re breathless, while his chest rises and falls steadily. You’re stepping on Steven’s toes, but he doesn’t mind. The hand around your wrist travels up your elbow, keeping you anchored when his other one does the same to your opposite arm. “Stop.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face as he shakes his head at you. 
“You stop.” Your eyes gravitate to his mouth again, plump lips pouting with temptation as you subconsciously take a step closer towards each other. 
Does he want this as much as you do? 
His knuckles run along your cheek and your droopy eyelids grow heavy at the tender feeling.  Steven’s fingers find that annoying wisp of hair from earlier, and he takes it upon himself to tuck it behind your ear. You try to stifle a moan when his nails card along your scalp, mirroring your gesture from before. But a whimper eases its way out of you, followed by a shaky sigh when your voice denounces you. His movement stills for a moment, but then both of his hands are cupping your face and his forehead is pressing against yours in a manner that is so indescribably intimate, you can’t even believe it’s real.
“You’re so pretty.”
There’s that desperate whisper again. 
Your mouth reaches for his. You can feel him holding you by the back of your neck, lips unmoving and lacking confidence against yours. It’s a short kiss, nothing too heated, but when you try to pull away through mumbling apologies, he can’t help but grab you by the chin and bring you back to him for seconds. 
You gasp into his mouth, the button of his nose resting against your cheek when you regain your self-control and hold onto his shoulders for leverage. “I’m sorry.” You blurt out.
“No, no,” He kisses you again, pupils wide and hands grasping at your belly when realization washes over. “Forgive me, I don’t — I didn’t mean to—“
“You didn’t mean to kiss me?” You smirk. The teasing grin is immediately wiped off of your features when Steven pulls you closer and tighter, almost as if you’d slip away from him anytime soon. “Are you going to do it again?”
“I think I want to, unless you don’t want me to, Y/N.”
“Of course I want you to. I want you, Steven.”
He chuckles in disbelief. “You do?”
“Well, I kissed you back, didn’t I?”
He gets lost in your eyes for the millionth time tonight. His accent draws out thick and frustrated when he finds the courage to pull your lips back onto his. 
“Oh, fuck it.” 
You moan instantly when his fingers undo your ponytail and tangle through your hair, flawed palms grabbing at each other’s clothing like you hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in ages — like you hadn’t felt Steven touch you in a fashion that is so sexual, so passionate and needy as if he’s been needing you all his life.
You kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he casts against your ear when you near his throat. He pinches himself when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder. It’s real. You’re real, with your hot tongue against his neck, with your chapstick molding him into shea butter and beeswax, with your paint-stained fingers dancing across the hem of his jacket like a tease. It’s real when his arms wrap around your frame, and your back immediately arches in response to his embrace while he ponders the skin beneath your shirt. 
“You can touch me.” You whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. He sighs at the consensual phrase, coffee-colored eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. “S’okay, Steven.” 
“Are — are you sure?” 
“I am.”
The couch creaks beneath him when he reaches over and gingerly holds you by the jaw, thumbing at your earlobe with hopeless adoration. It feels like two teenagers kissing each other for the first time. Awkward tangled limbs. Noses accidentally bumping and twitchy eyelashes poking at sensitive flesh. But it feels so natural, especially when your body reacts to Steven’s affections as if it has always known him.
He kisses you. A lot. 
And he kisses you some more until you’re practically sliding off the couch and resorting to becoming labyrinths of desperation on your rug.
Your shirt rides up as Steven drags a large palm over your ribs, tracing the bone beneath your titillating skin. His head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re eager for his mouth again. “You’re unreal, Y/N.” He groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you roll on top of him and straddle his lap. “Two years of my life I’ve spent pining after you.”
You giggle, “Try three. I win, yeah?” 
“Oh, so now it’s a competition?” 
“I’m just saying maybe you’ve been Venus all along.”
He smirks playfully, shrugging from where he lays on the floor. “I think we both know I prefer ancient Egypt over ancient Rome.”
“Planet.” You breathe out, fighting off the urge to close your eyes when his hands finally make contact with your lower back. “The planet, not the goddess.” 
Steven’s arm extends upwards, pushing your hair away from your face when you look down at him with a dreamy gaze. 
“Goddamnit, you’re so pretty.” You sigh in content at the praise. “My Venus.” 
The pet name nearly makes you melt.
No artist in the world could replicate the masterpiece of your skin against his. No artist could etch every detail of you and depict it in a manner so accurate or perfect — every mole, scar, freckle and fold as if you were carved from Venus’ hip at birth. No painting could hold the same beauty of Steven nervously taking your shirt off, unable to capture the quiet chuckles when your head gets caught in the fabric. Venus’ figure can’t compare to Steven’s tawny chest, faint abs rippling under your nails and lips as you kiss your way up to his pecs. 
Surrounded by pools of each other’s clothes, your burning bodies lay beside one another as sensual messes on the floor, rutting against each other gently and needily as Steven hikes your leg over his hip. You grind your mound against his crotch, gasping into his mouth when he holds you there.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” He remarks, gripping onto your waist before he suddenly looks to you for guidance. “I-I really… fuck, I really do want you.”
His touch is featherweight, flightless but not even close to fleeting when he takes the time to voyage the muscled wings of your back. 
“In what way?”
He exhales shakily, wetting his lips. “All of them.” You tuck your head under his chin after pressing a brief kiss to his temple. His voice rumbles against your body. The richness of his accent drops to a deeper octave when you reply in a high-pitched moan, hips grinding onto his front when his fingers find the waistband of your underwear. “Teach me how to take care of you, love.” 
“Touch me. Just touch me like you won’t ever stop.” Steven studies the desperation in your glassy eyes and nods softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. Yet, past the swirls of loving lust in his expression, you recognize that something’s bothering him. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” He says almost too quickly. “Yeah, I am. Are you? I just, um…” He laughs sheepishly, stroking the side of your head. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You haven’t?”
“I never… got to that point, really, with anyone.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better,” You shift closer to him, resting your forehead against his as you look at him through your lashes, “I’ve never had someone inside me.” And Steven moans. Loud, deep, desperate. You would’ve clenched your thighs together had Steven not hoisted your leg higher over his hip. “I’ve done stuff, but… never been fucked. Never been…” You sigh blissfully when his fingers trace the curve of your buttock. “… properly filled up by anyone.”
“You’re going to k-kill me, love.” He glances down at your clothed core, fingers begging to reach for you.
“I’m sorry, I know. I know.” You kiss him, earning a needy groan from the man. “Go on then, touch me, baby.”
“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Tell me if it’s not what you want.” 
Agonizingly slow, his digits dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your cunt. The gentle notion makes you gasp once more, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit. His middle finger circles leisurely over the sensitive nub with feathery touches.
“Steven,  fuck… yeah, that’s it.”
His voice hitches in his throat as he gauges your reaction. “Oh, love, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?” You guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your slick against your wet entrance. “Y/N, you gorgeous, gorgeous thing.”
“Feels good.” You scratch at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. Your eagerness spurs Steven further and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. “Tease.”
“I don’t even know what I’m doing and you’re calling me a tease?” He smirks proudly, repeating the gesture until he’s drawing a moan out of you each time. The outline of his dick protrudes against his boxers, and only then does he realize how hard he is for you. “It’s good, yeah?”
You’ve never seen him so smug.
Yet you like it, and you can’t fucking help but want more of it.
“Shit, yeah. Yeah, it’s — it’s… oh, Steven.”
Your sentence is interrupted midway when he pushes his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretching sensation. He inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. You shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. He hums at your facial expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his jaw.
It brings an innocent smile to his face thinking how he’ll have to show up to work tomorrow with remnants of you all over him. 
Steven mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his fumbling kisses. You rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own pleasure against your skin.
“You’re so perfect.” He groans, fucking his digits in and out of you. The noises that leave your cunt and his throat are sinful, but nothing beats the image of you resting your head on his arm, his hand cupping your mound while he fingers you on the floor impatiently. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, dovey? God, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to.”
“Steven, your fingers...” You watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. You nearly sob from the intensity. “You get me so wet.”
“That’s good, Y/N. That’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that.” You clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you. His touch is generous, obviously eager to satisfy you, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. “Can I tell you something?”
Your voice comes out broken, mind fuzzy as your cunt tightens around him. “What?”
“Those… those two years, I…” He moans in tandem with you when you nibble at his bottom lip. “I, fuck, it wasn’t just pining, Y/N.”
“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think I — I think I’m in love with you. And not just because I’m…“ He laughs. “… inside you right now, but I think I’ve been in love with you from the moment you spoke to me and — and fuck, being able to hold you like this only confirms it.”
And just like that, you come undone all over his thick fingers.
“Oh, fuck! S-Steven!”
You cry out into his chest, bite marks tattering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax. Your body shivers from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, which usually never happens from anyone else’s hands other than your own. Steven’s confession hangs heavily in the air even as he coaxes you through your high, fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you. 
Soft praises leave him in whispers, and he shares his affection for you with gentle pecks to your temples. 
A couple minutes pass by until you’re able to catch your breath, or at least, compose yourself.
“Was I imagining that or did you just say you love me?” You look up at him with big eyes, voice hushed and fearful as he wipes the sweat away from your brow with his thumb. 
He gulps, lashes fluttering dreamily when you cup his cheek with a shaky hand. “S’real.”
“Tell me again.”
“I love you.”
“More than best friends?”
Steven adores the childish glimmer of curiosity in your innocent gaze. He chuckles quietly, nodding. “Best friends included and more.”
“I love you, best friends and more.” You rub your nose against his before your stare drifts to his swollen lips. “But the next time you confess shit like that, don’t do it when you’re fingering me.”
He flashes you a weak smile. “Alrighty, miss.”
Although, Steven is unprepared for when you untangle yourself from his arms and settle between his thighs, nails raking over his muscled calves and mouth grazing over the bulging front of his boxers.
Your next words simultaneously fill and take the air from his lungs.
“Do it when you have your cock inside me.”
Marc nearly takes control of the body himself at that exact moment, and Steven immediately thinks he’s going to pass out when you tug his boxers down his hips to free his aching prick. His reddened tip is already leaking with pre-cum, thighs jolting beneath your slow and open-mouthed kisses to his skin. 
“You really are hellish.” He whines when you wrap your middle and ring finger along the middle of his cock, lips suctioning around the base. A long moan drawls from his throat as he rests his head back against the rug, eyes screwing shut when you run your warm tongue along a prominent vein. 
“Am not.” You chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to the head.
He stifles a groan, forearm coming up to cover his eyes as you take just the tip of him into your mouth. “Oh, my god, Y/N. F-Fuck, yes.” You hum in amusement, the back of your throat sending the vibrations right to his cock. “That’s good. Really fucking good. Oh, fuck.”
You grin widely, but remain careful not to use any teeth on him. “You’re very needy, you know that? But, oh, you’re just doing so well for me, aren’t you?”
The mocking tone of your phrases make him squirm. He’s gripping onto a fistful of the Persian rug, wrinkling it with scarred knuckles. 
“Please.”
“Please?” 
“More. Touch me more.” He shakes his head at you, chin pressing against his chest as he stares down at you with a defeated expression. “Please, love.”
You’d be lying if you say that the way he looks at you doesn’t make you wet. You’re practically a puddle of desire, and Steven is melting jelly in your hands when your head quickly bobs down his thick length. 
He’s sputtering out a string of swear words, cursing more than you’ve ever heard him in your years of friendship. You can tell he’s trying his best not to cum prematurely, not that you’d care anyways, but with how his soft stomach ripples and flexes with each deliberate swirl of your textured tongue, you know he’s struggling.
And just when you’re about to give him that moment of release, you feel Steven pulling you back by the hair. Disappointment flashes over his features briefly when your mouth leaves him, but the boyish longing on his face quickly shifts into attentiveness when he catches a glimpse of the confused glint in your eyes. 
“Everything alright?” Your hands find his face once more. It becomes so natural in this new, sudden dynamic together — touching him, feeling him against you like you’ve always wanted. “Was it too much?”
“No, no, it was amazing.” He assures you, fingers pushing back the matted hair on your cheeks. “You’re amazing. I just don’t — I don’t wanna finish and leave you unsatisfied.”
“You could never leave me unsatisfied, silly.” You bite your lip feverishly, thumb stroking his chin for comfort.
He smiles. The tension of the conversation seems far from innocent now, especially when a near-indiscernible side of Steven appears as the words leave him confidently:
“I want to be your first, though. The first man inside you.”
“Steven…” 
“Only if you want, Y/N. Whatever you say goes, no matter what.” His hands grab yours, sweat sticking to each other’s skin. “It would be nice to have you be my first. And me as yours. I mean, it sounds so juvenile to want no one except you, but it’s the truth.” He lazily kisses across your knuckles, paving his way around the tendons with his lips. “I want to have sex with you, and I want to remember it.”
“Is he here right now?” Steven freezes and his jaw goes slack at the question. He can tell you’re nothing but concerned once your eyebrows knit together deeply. “Is Marc here?”
It’s the first time you’ve asked about Marc Spector without Steven bringing him up on his own account.
“Why? Did you want — do you want him instead?” 
“No! No, I don’t. Not for this.” You smile with brief panic, tracing the bridge of Steven’s nose to put his worries to rest. His frown gradually fades with the soothing motion. “I just want to make sure it’s you. Everything we do here, I want it to be with you.” You ruffle his hair teasingly once he sits up. “No offense to Marc, by the way.”
Steven chuckles, “I’ll give him your regards.” 
“Well, he has yet to talk to me.” You shrug casually, grabbing onto his biceps as he pulls you onto his lap. 
“He’s just shy.” He grins against your lips. His palm travels up the swell of your breast until he’s softly kneading the ball of flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers.
Your breathing quickens, eyes fixating on his hardened erection. “Shyer than you?”  
“Oh, incredibly.” Steven jokes, shaking his head. 
He can just imagine Marc’s downturned expression of disbelief. 
“Tell him…” You nip at his earlobe, moaning against his cheek. “… that I’m already spoken for.”
“Are you now?” He’s abrupty cut off by his own gasp when your arm reaches behind and you wrap a fist around his dick, pumping him slowly in your firm grasp. “Rude. I was talking.”
“Were you? I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
She thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she?
“Stop a-apologizing and…” He hisses when you twist your hand, grazing the pad of your finger over his slit. “F-Fuck, Y/N.”
“There we go…” You grind against his tip, pre-cum smearing across your folds. “What do you want?”
“Want you to use me, darling. However you’d like.”
“So eager for me, Steven.” You breathe into his mouth, noses nudging against each other as you line his cock up with your entrance. “You haven’t even fucked me and yet you’re practically begging for more.”
“God, you talk so filthy for someone with such a gorgeous face, yeah?”
“I guess I truly am hellish.” 
And yet nothing about this feels like hell. 
Especially once you sink down onto his length, the heavy tip of his cock ready to stretch you out. It’s only slightly painful — a brief sting, the awkward shifting of bones so that Steven can sit back and have your thighs on either side of him, the echoing of your quiet whimpers beneath the soft light as you take every inch of him into your core. Your slick spreads onto his thighs and balls, wetness coating his digit as he instantly reaches for your clit like its become second nature.
“You — you’re really tight.” He groans, looking down at where your cunt swallows him whole. 
You laugh wryly, whimpering when his hips subconsciously rut into you. “And you’re really big.” 
Steven tilts his head back and looks up at you with a hazy smile, raising your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. For a split second, you think it’s Marc — the darkness in his eyes, the sudden dominance dripping from his tone, but it’s a big mistake on your part to second-guess him once he finally thrusts into you.
“Say it again, love.” 
It’s completely Steven — his wandering hands, grasping and grabbing at flesh, grounding you, feeling every crevice and fold of your body like it’s a sanctuary that he’s been dying to enter.
“You’re so big.” Your mouth gapes, eyes widening when you submit to his touch and let him take you. “Oh, fuck. Steven, please.”
“Yeah?” He grunts gruffly into your neck, teeth marking the virginal expanse of your throat. “You like it this way? My lovely Y/N enjoys getting fucked on the floor of her own flat?”  
“I love it.” You meet his strokes halfway, tits bouncing in his face as he leans forward on his knees and wraps your legs behind his back. “Oh, s-shit. Mmm, right there — right there feels so — so good, Steven. Fuck!” 
Steven bites down onto your shoulder when he lays you down onto the rug, cock burying itself deeper inside your cunt while he puts his weight on top of your body. His whiny moans are muffled, gasps and slaps filling the ambience of the messy living room. You’re sure that the neighbors below your studio can feel every force of Steven’s hips pounding into you — hard, slow and full. 
You scratch down his spine, red marks drawing angry lines across his tanned muscles. Juices are running down your inner thighs and cream coats his cock as he fucks you needily. While his skin is stained with paint, your skin is littered with his stinging handprints. He spreads his palms over your ass, carefully maneuvering you up and down his length as you sob into his chest.
“Oh, Y/N, you’re everything I could’ve dreamed of.” Steven pants out incoherently, nipping at your jawline. “This pretty cunt… jus’ wrapped ‘round me. I could get used to this, you know that?” 
Your throat feels raw from your mewling, the exhausted and desperate need to cum written all over your features. “You can have me anyday and anytime. I want you to…” You swallow roughly. “… fill me up, Steven. Take me whenever.” Your tone grows hushed, breathy whispers ghosting over the shell of his ear. “I wanna see how drunk you can get off of my pussy.”
“Holy f-fuck.”
You laugh together, even during the heated moment. “You love it when I talk dirty, don’t you?”
“I just love you. Anything you say, anything you do, it just absolutely riles me up.” His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you to him till your foreheads are touching and your naked bodies beg even harder for release. “God, dovey. You’re a perfect work of art. 
“Mmm, I-I’m close.” You gasp out, nails digging into his shoulder blades when his cock begins to hit that unforgivable spot inside you. 
Steven takes a moment to pull out of you, running himself against your folds until he dives right back in. His tip prods and prods at your walls, your wetness leaving his prick damp with each deep stroke. 
“Fuck, Y/N. S’good, I can’t — oh, hell, I can’t think anymore.” He whines, arms resting on either side of your head as he pounds into you. 
“Stevie.”
He shushes you tenderly, thumb sliding across the corners of your eyes to wipe away the brimming tears. “I know, darling. I know. I’ll get you there, promise.” His breath fans out across your lips, and you take advantage of your proximity to reel him in for another drowning kiss. 
His thrusts grow sloppy, hips losing their graceful rhythm as he continues to snap into you. He beckons your name like it’s a song on loop, while your tiny whimpers turn into loud wanton groans of lust. He pulls you back into an embrace and sits up again, hooking his arms under your knees so that they’re bent and your ass hovers over his lap. 
The position leaves you vulnerable when you hold onto his torso for dear life, fluids making a mess between your bodies.
“I love you.” You croak out, opening your eyes to gaze into Steven’s dilated pupils. “Best friends and more.”
“And I love you.” You moan in tandem, feeling yourselves near your orgasm. “My sweet, perfect Venus.”
You clench around his hard cock, cumming intensely on his length as he cries against your neck. His hands are everywhere, but all you can focus on is the way your cunt contracts around him, tugging and milking him till he discovers his own high. This time, Steven doesn’t shy away from moaning and allows himself those deserved minutes of relief as you ride out your orgasms together.
“Oh, my god.” 
Momentarily, neither you or Steven move from the rug. He keeps you on his cock, too scared to face the emptiness that’ll come once you leave him. But it seems that you share the same sentiment, sighing against his bicep as you draw circles on the back of his hand. 
He decides to break the comfortable silence.
“I do okay?” 
Steven can feel your smile form against his skin, eyes sleepy and droopy from where your head lays. “You did so good.” 
“You wanna get cleaned up?”
“Please.”
With ease, Steven helps you off of him, already missing the comfort and warmth of your core as you both shakily rise to your feet. For a split second, it’s awkward — your palms shift to cup your naked breasts, while his limbs fumble to fetch you a quilt from the couch till he realizes his own indecency.
But then you share another bubbly laugh and offer the other half of your quilt to Steven, who doesn’t hesitate to cozy up beside you and have you lead one another to the bathroom. You take him under your clothed wing, ankles bumping together clumsily as he finds the light by the sink and quietly flicks it on.
He unravels himself from the quilt first and sits by the edge of your bathtub while he waits for the water to heat up. You watch him lovingly from the doorframe, tired and hair matted, but nevertheless, Steven thinks you look ravishing.
“Come on now.” The Londoner makes grabby hands towards you, taking the blanket from your hickey-covered frame and folding it neatly by the bathroom counter. 
You sit with him in the tub — back to his chest, his back to the tile, your hands interwoven amongst the soapy suds and lavender, chamomile-scented bubbles. 
A soft sigh. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. An adoring chuckle as your lover brushes his nose against your ear and tells you stories of how the sun loved the moon.
Like clockwork.
Steven is everywhere. On your lips, the scent that wafts through your closet, your bedsheets and the Persian rug in your living room, in how you make your tea, in what mug you drink water out of, what songs you play to start your morning.
But most of all, he lingers in the unfinished painting on your easel. Jaw sharp and nose prominent, eyes youthful yet wise, lips pillowy and inviting. 
He is in the shades of brown, pastel pinks and the added hue of orange from how his marked skin glistens in candlelight.
He is your Venus.
Not the goddess, but the planet.
Either way, neither of them are able to truly equate your love for him.
6K notes · View notes
inklore · 2 years
Note
omg it’d be so hot teaching Steven Grant how you like your 🐱 eaten. He’d be so subby and eager to hear you moan for him. I imagine he’d be the type to hump the bed while going down on you and he’d LOVE getting his hair pulled 🙈🙈
you know this man would UNDERSTAND the assignment completely, he would show up ready for class eagerly ok!
desirous.
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pairing: steven grant x (f)reader
word count: 733
warnings: sub!steven, cunnilingus, fingering, slight hair pulling, bed humping, cuming in one’s pants (boxers in this case). 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.
i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!
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“Fuck, Steven,” you moan, “just like that.” Your fingers are in his hair, the dark strands spread through your fingers damp from sweat from how long he’s been down there; determination and vigor laced in each movement of his tongue, each command, as you guide him. With each flick of his tongue you can feel him become more daring, more accustomed, more needy. 
You can feel his fingers digging into the flesh behind your thighs as he devours you, as the flat of his tongue runs up your wet folds before the tip of his tongue dives between them to run against your clit, over and over, slow, almost timid until you push the back of his head. Steven getting the hint as to what you want, how this went before; his lips wrapping around your the sensitive nerve sucking on it. 
Your back arching from the mattress, your legs shaking around him at the slow suck that turns hungrier, at the noises his mouth is making against you, your fingers tugging the strands of his hair; the moan he lets out from it vibrating across your clit. 
You can feel the way his hips are moving against the mattress, can feel the heavy puffs of breath he’s letting out as the tip of his nose hits the places his tongue hasn’t reached just yet—adding to the burning pleasure in your lower belly. 
It’s so good, he’s so good to you—for you.
“Can I..” he’s looking up at you, his lips are swollen and wet. His eyes are big and needy, “can I put my fingers inside of you? Is that alright?” His accent thicker when he’s aroused like this.
You can't help the smile that pulls up the corner of your lips, “yes,” you respond, let your hand run from his hair to his cheek. Your thumb skating along his jawline until you get to his chin, his bottom lip. You slip the pad of your finger past his lips and press it to his tongue, “You’re doing so good, Steven.” The whimper he lets out as he closes his mouth around your thumb, sucking it gently—makes your pussy clench. Your stomach fluttering. 
There’s a small “thank you” that falls from his lips as his mouth reattaches to your cunt, his tongue once again exploring your folds, your hole, the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit until you feel two of his fingers press in you; leaving you breathless at how thick they feel inside of you, the filthy squelching noise of him fingering you—first slow, then faster once he gets the hang of it-making your cheeks burn, making your hips gyrate against his face, your moans more frequent and breathy. 
“You taste so good,” He groans weakly against your clit, his eyes rolling back, his fingers only stuttering slightly as he completely loses himself in you, devours you, brings you so close to that edge. You can feel his hips stuttering where they continue to rub against the mattress, you know if you were to look there would be a wet spot on his boxers and the sheets. His cock just as throbbing, weeping, and needy as your cunt. “I wanna make you come.” He’s whimpering between licks. 
You open your mouth to respond, to tell him he’s going to, to keep doing what he’s doing, but then you feel his fingers curve just right at the same time his lips wrap around your clit; your thighs locking around his head as that delirious white hot heat consumes your entire being as you finally reach that precipice, as Steven makes you come undone, a string of moans and profanities slipping out.
Steven letting out his own slew of groans, deep and shaky against your aching clit, his entire body shivering against the bed—and you know without having to ask him, without having to look down and see the large wet patch on his boxer once he’s sat back on his knees, that he came too.
“Was that–did I–do good?” His mouth is still slick, a flush taking over his body. 
You reach for him, pull him down so he’s on top of you, press a kiss to his mouth, slipping your tongue past his lips to taste yourself on him. The both of you moaning, “I loved it,” you press another kiss to his lips, “you were so good.”
6K notes · View notes
luvpedropascal · 2 years
Note
hi hi, could u write something ab reader giving insecure!steven a reach around hj in front of a mirror? and reader's constantly praising him and telling him to look in the mirror to see how pretty he is <3
Beautiful Boy (18+)
Steven Grant x gn!Reader
Warnings: SMUT, handjob, sub!steven, dom!reader, insecurities.
A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble in response to the request but i got carried away haha
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“You’re so beautiful,” you groan into Steven’s ear, lips kissing down his jaw, laving your tongue over his thrumming pulse point.
He squirms from the compliment, his whole body warming from the praise. Going a little quiet, Steven tries his best not to get too in his head, but you notice him slipping anyway. You rub a hand over the softness of his stomach and pull back to look at him, “What is it, baby?”
Steven goes quiet again, looking anywhere but your eyes as he tries to find words. Frowning, you push a curl behind his ear and carress his cheek gently, “What?” you start, kissing his dimple, “Don’t believe me?”
His eyes fall, an almost weary look forming as he bows his head, both out of shyness and in hope your hands will find his hair.
Instead, you find his chin quickly, tilting his face back up to look at you, your face growing more stern, “I call you ‘angel’ for a reason, Steven.”
He blushes again, his hands coming up to play with the fingers of your free hand in his lap, “I just- Sometimes I see Marc and Jake and- They’re both so handsome and- Gods, I know this doesn’t make any sense but, I swear I don’t look like them.”
You reach around to cup his neck, grounding him as you’re sure his head is exploding with other thoughts about himself, “You do look different, baby. But it’s so beautiful, the way you each have your own way of standing, your own smiles, different ways of speaking. I love that you’re all different.”
His eyes soften again, that sweet, caramel brown that only Steven’s eyes turn, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him. He melts into you, clutching your hand again and whispering against your lips, “M’sorry I ruined the mood.”
You chuckle, leaning into to nip at that sensitive spot just below his jaw, “You could never ruin the mood — I’ll always want you. I mean, fuck. Look at you.”
Steven’s cheeks and chest are flushed pink, lips kiss bitten and parted beautifully, his exposed skin looking so soft. He’s in just his boxers, looking up at your through tied brows as you practically ravage him with your eyes.
“Baby,” you groan at the sight of him and he squirms under your gaze, leaning in and hiding his face in your chest. Your hand weaves through his hair and tugs him back to look at you with just enough pressure to make him whine softly.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he breathes a little faster, searching for something in your eyes. You tug his hair back a little further, exposing his neck and running your warm tongue over the marks you made earlier, soothing them. Another soft sound escapes his lips and he wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you with him.
You kiss a trail down his chest, swirling over his nipple gently and breathing out a groan when he cries out for you again, “So pretty, sweetheart. And, god, those noises you make for me..”
Steven’s chest heaves under your mouth as you switch sides, flicking your tongue over the taut peaks of his chest. He’s so sensitive there and he never realized it until you tried it one day, drawing something close to a scream out of him.
You run your hands down to his stomach, caressing the softness of his hips and squeezing at the tiny bit of pudge on his belly, mumbling, “My favorite.”
His eyes roll back at the thought — one of his least favorite parts of his body being your favorite. You’ve marked him as your own, possessive little love bites blooming dark red all over his chest and stomach.
As you move lower, nibbling on his inner thighs and squeezing them affectionately, Steven’s legs start to shake a little bit.
“Always loved your thighs, they’re so sensitive for me, angel,” you smile, looking up at him.
Steven’s eyes are glossed over with love, his lower lip pulled adorably between his teeth, and he looks absolutely ethereal. You can’t help but climb up and pull him into another kiss, your gentle tongue parting his lips and finding that sweet taste of tea he always has waiting for you. His hands stay at his sides, clutching the blankets under him, but he can’t help the way his hips twitch up into yours a little bit.
He’s achingly hard in his boxers, so you decide to show him some mercy, lowering your hips and giving him the pressure he needs in a slow, deep grind. Steven’s lips slow against yours and he gasps at the relief, his mouth hanging open a bit.
“Oh, angel. You can’t focus on two things at once?” you tease, watching his cheeks redden once again. He loves it though, all the teasing, all the gentle humiliation. You lean forward, tugging at his full bottom lip playfully, “Answer me, Steven.”
He whimpers in panic, dazed eyes opening to look at you when he speaks, “No I can’t, love.”
You smile at his admission, pressing a soft kiss between his brows and climbing off of him, “Sit up, I have an idea.”
The sudden loss of contact draws a whine out of Steven, but he nods, following you up and off of the bed, waiting for your guidance.
“Take those off for me, baby,” you motion to his boxers and sit down on the carpet against the side of the bed, “C‘mere.”
Steven looks at you for a moment, a little confused, but kneels down, taking the spot you’re patting, his back to your chest, leaning into you. Only after looking up does he realize you had positioned him in front of the full length mirror. He looks at himself wearily, only allowing himself a moment before he moves his eyes to your face. You’re resting your chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist in a hug when you murmur, “Is this okay?”
He nods and focuses on the comfort of your skin against his, holding him, pressing kisses to his shoulders and back. Your hand drifts down to his cock, brushing your knuckles over it teasingly, watching him hold his hips back.
“I want you to see how pretty you look when I touch you, angel. Can you keep your eyes on the mirror for me?” You ask.
He’s already in a daze, but he nods quickly and opens his eyes to look at himself in the mirror, “Y-Yeah, I can.”
“That’s my boy,” you tease, smiling and pressing the softest of kisses to his temple as your hand surrounds him, beginning to stroke him slowly.
Immediately, he melts back against you and a soft moan spills from his lips. He watches himself — the way you wreck him with the softest of touches, the way you draw the most pathetic sounds out of him.
“You see that baby? See how perfect you look?” You whisper, running your thumb over his slit slowly.
Steven nearly doubles over in pleasure, keeping his eyes on himself. He knows that if he looks away, you’ll stop, and he only wants to be good for you. But he can’t help the way he squirms when you touch him, writhing after every swipe of your fingers.
His shaking thighs reduce you for a moment, watching him in awe, before leaning forward to nibble at his earlobe, “My beautiful boy.”
All of this — seeing your dynamic from another perspective, watching himself get ruined — has Steven barreling toward his peak much faster than he’d like to admit. He’s overwhelmed with love and pleasure, reaching for your arm to hold onto, just for grounding.
Normally, you don’t let Steven touch you in these kinds of situations, but you know he needs the closeness right now, so you let him hold on.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper, pressing kisses to his shoulders, over every scar and every sunspot, letting praise after praise sink in.
When Steven’s breathy moans start get higher in pitch and his eyes struggle to stay open, you slow your hand to a stop, reaching down to run your hands over his chest and stomach, murmuring, “Steven, look at me.”
He gasps when you let go of him, but takes a deep breath to calm down before looking into your eyes through the mirror. You reach up to tilt his cheek toward you, pressing a soft kiss there, “I love you so much, baby. Can’t believe you’re all mine.”
Steven whimpers and nods, mostly to himself, trying to lean into your touch some more — “Love you so much.”
Your heart melts at his desperation and you can’t take it anymore, turning him enough to look at you and cupping his cheek, “You’re so beautiful, you hear me? My sweet, pretty boy. There’s no one else like you, Steven.”
He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, “Your- Your pretty boy..”
You smile, nudging your nose against his, “That’s right, angel. All mine.”
The sweet, possessive words you utter make his entire body ache with need and he brushes his lips over yours, just that contact enough to make him whine. He’s so sensitive, melting into you when you finally kiss him, pulling him in by his bottom lip and laving your tongue over his. Steven’s lips are always so plush, moving with yours like it was the simplest thing in the world, and he moaned when your hand found his hair, tilting his head to the side to kiss him deeper.
Your free hand found his soft thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze and inching back up to his cock, tracing the length of him from base to tip. Steven gasps from your ministrations, his head falling forward into your neck with a soft grunt of ‘please’.
Kissing his hair, you wrap your fingers around him and give him a slow stroke, prolonging it just enough to tease. His eyes well with tears, both out of need and love for you, and he bites down on your shirt, trying to hold back his cries for more. But you can feel the warmth of him against your neck, his damp eyelashes brushing over the sensitive skin there, and you stop, “Baby, look at me.”
Ever your good boy, Steven raises his head, biting his lips but failing to hide his glassy eyes. You kiss his teary cheeks, “I’ll stop teasing, yeah? You can’t take much more, can you?“
He shakes his head, more tears clouding his eyes, “Please, I can’t.”
Cooing to him gently, you kiss his swollen lips just once more before leaning down and spitting into your hand, bringing it down to stroke him again. Steven gasps, his stomach beginning to clench repeatedly, thighs shaking as he teeters on the edge of his orgasm already.
“Thank you, thank you,” He whimpers out, “Love you so- so much.”
Kissing his cheek, you hush his cries and twist your hand just the way he likes, “I know, angel, I know. Go on and come when you’re ready, I’ve got you.”
Steven’s voice breaks with his next moan and he presses into your touch as he comes, a few stray tears spilling over his flushed cheeks. You watch his beautiful eyes go placid, listen to his breath shaking as you guide him through every wave of pleasure.
When it becomes too much, Steven grasps your wrist gently, stilling your hand and leaning forward to rest his head on your chest. All he can fathom is a soft “thank you” and a kiss to your collarbone, but you can feel his thumb tracing circles on your hip, where he holds onto you.
Then, after a minute, his eyes are looking up at you again, chocolatey as ever, and he smiles, that crooked, boyish smile you love so much. You can’t help but giggle at his dorky grin, reaching to run your knuckles over his stubble, “What?”
His cheeks tint pink and he laughs softly, “We’re doing that mirror thing again.”
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jakelcckley · 2 years
Text
Steven every time someone calls him with a wrong name:
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thesecretwriter · 3 months
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steven grant eating you out (minors/ageless blogs dni).
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he has you laying on the bed, bare for him. you have no idea how many times his made you cum at this point, but you and him are a babbling rambling mess.
“such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, so good for me, so wet,” he rambles on as he rubs your clit and watched you squirm. his been thinking about doing this to you all day. he came home wanting you and didn’t hesitate to manhandle you.
he ate your pussy out as though it was his last meal. the man was starving. his lips latch onto your clit and his index and middle finger buried deep inside you. the both of you have fucked and made love on countless occasions but it still surprises him how you tighten around his fingers every time. all that could be heard was the wetness from your arousal accompanied by the moans of you and steven.
“you gonna be f’me, baby? please cum. please,” he begs and goes back to lapping at your clit. his cock is painfully hard, and he moans as he brushes against the bed below him. his moans create a new feeling of pleasure for you along with the motioning of his fingers inside you.
“that’s it, baby,”
your thighs automatically clench together, but he makes sure to spread them out as you reach your orgasm. he doesn’t stop teasing your clit with his tongue nor does he stop fingering you. you’re panting for air as you stare at the ceiling above you, struggling to catch your breath. the next thing you see is steven’s goofy grin as he takes in the sight of you.
“you did so good f’me,”
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a/n: someone confiscate my devices.
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Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)
Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.
Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut
Other Characters: None
Word Count: 3,348
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Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.
In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.
They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.
Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right. 
“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”
“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.
“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”
“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”
“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”
You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.
“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”
You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.
“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.
You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”
Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.
“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.
You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.
“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”
Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.
“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”
Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.
“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”
You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”
“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.
Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement. 
“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”
You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”
Steven nods. 
“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”
“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.
“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”
Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"
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You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well. 
“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.
You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep. 
“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.
You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.
“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.
As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.
“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.
“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”
“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”
“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”
“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.
“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.
“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”
“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”
“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”
“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”
We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.
“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater. 
“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”
Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.
“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.
“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."
Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.
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“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.
“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.
“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.
“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”
You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.
“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.
“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.
“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.
“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”
He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.
“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”
“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”
Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.
“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.
“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.
“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”
“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”
“Play along,” he chuckles.
“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”
“Is it, though?”
“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”
“Or I wanted to show you off.”
“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”
“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”
“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”
“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”
Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.
“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.
“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”
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“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”
A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.
“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.
“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”
“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”
“Oh no, not Debbie.”
“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”
He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”
“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”
“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”
“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.
Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor. 
“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”
In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.
“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”
“Baby . . .”
“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs. 
“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.
“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”
“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.
“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.
“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.
“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”
“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”
“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”
“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”
“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”
You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven��he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.
“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”
As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.
“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.
“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”
Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks. 
“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”
Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”
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takenbypeter · 1 year
Text
Vulnerable Drunk
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Steven Grant x reader
Words: 469
FLUFF BINGO
Ending this year with a Steven Grant fic hope you all love it and have a great new year!!
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“Okay, yeah just one foot in front of the other. You got it,” you encouraged as you did your best to guide Steven through his front doors.
He was slouched over, his body heavy in your arms, but you somehow managed to get him to the corner of his bed. Once his butt hit his mattress, he instantly sprawled his limbs out, before tucking them back in and laying on his side, letting out a breath of air with his eyes closed.
After making sure he was somewhat comfortable, you give his head a final pat before stepping away.
“No, don’t go,” Steven whined, his voice fragile.
“Relax, I'm just going to get you water. I’ll be right back,” you replied, heading towards the open kitchen area.
Returning onto the empty spot next to him, you pat for him to get up and he does so reluctantly. “Here have some water, it'll do you good for tomorrow.”
With eyes still closed he took a sip of the water and let the cool liquid slip down his throat. After finishing half the glass he held it out and you took it placing it to the side. “Thanks,” he said, eyes struggling slightly to remain open. Once he finally got to open his eyelids he caught sight of you and his facial muscles instantly lifted into a sleepy intoxicated smile.
Steven caught you by surprise by grabbing your shoulders, “has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”
You laugh a little, caught off guard and his grip on you loosens a bit.
“You look just like my love. So pretty.”
His hands leave your body and he leans back down against the soft sheets. “I love my love. But shhh,” he abruptly sits up again before moaning a little at the sudden movement, “don’t tell ‘em.”
“Oh?” This you were curious about. “Why not?” You whisper.
“I say it too much. I don’t want to scare my love away.”
You suppress a laugh. You didn’t know what was funnier; him not realizing who you were or the fact that he kept referring to you as his love.
“Steven, I am your love. And you’ll never scare me away. In fact I don’t say those words enough. I love you.”
“Show me.”
For a moment you weren’t sure you didn’t imagine what you just heard. “What?“
“Show me you love me.“
You’re a bit surprised at his sudden bluntness, not used to this from him. But without any argument you bent down, and brushing his curls away from his forehead you placed a tiny kiss against his skin.
When you sat back up he was already smiling with his eyes closed. “I love that.”
“And I love you. Now finish your water or you’ll be feeling it tomorrow.”
“Yes my love.”
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marc-spectorr · 2 years
Text
cuffed
ˣ pairing: steven grant x reader
ˣ warnings: 1.4k wc. explicit smut and language, handcuffs, edging, handjob, blowjob, sub!steven, an appearance from marc at the end bc why not :-)
ˣ a/n: i was gonna add a video instead of the gif so we could hear his lil moan there but decided not to for everyone’s sake. also i’m thinking of doing a series called “smutty sundays” in which i release smutty drabbles each week. thoughts?
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- ☾-
“You ready, baby?” you ask him lowly, trailing your fingers tantalizingly down his neck.
Steven draws in a sharp intake of breath, the handcuffs secured around his wrist rattling against the wooden backing of the chair as he writhes under your touch. He watches you slowly sink to your knees through heavy-lidded eyes, lightly dragging your nails along his bare chest and toned stomach, only to halt once you reach the place where he needs you the most.
“P-Please, love,” he begs impatiently, his cock simply aching for you to show him mercy. “Sweetheart, I-I need you now. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
“Yes, you can, Steven,” comes your smug reply. “I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time with you tonight. You’re not going to come until I allow you to, understood?”
He nods weakly in response, unable to find his voice at the moment when your hot breath blows on his manhood.
Fuck. He’s so hard, it hurts.
“Words, Steven. I need words.”
“Understood, d-darling,” Steven stutters, his chest heaving in anticipation. “Understood.”
You smile alluringly at his confirmation, your hands settling on his inner thighs. Steven releases a grunt as pillowy soft lips press gentle kisses to the tender skin there, your mouth just a hair away from his weeping cock. He bucks his hips instinctively, desperate to feel your warmth around him— to feel both relief and pleasure.
“Not so fast, honey,” you tsk, chuckling under your breath. “If you try to rush any of this, I will not let you come tonight.”
“N-No, please! I’m sorry, so sorry. I-I won’t do it again, promise.”
You lean close again, and Steven does his best to not fucking move. “That’s my good boy.”
A shaky wine escapes Steven’s throat when delicate fingers finally wrap around his thick shaft, squeezing and pumping in the most teasing way.
“Look at you, baby. You’re so big, you can’t even fully fit in my hand,” you murmur softly, gazing back up at him with adoring eyes. “Fuck, you have the prettiest cock, Steven, and I can’t believe it’s all mine.”
This sends a wave of arousal through Steven’s body, and he wishes his hands were unrestrained so that he could pull you in for a kiss right then and there.
Gripping him tighter, you start to stroke him at a faster pace. Small whimpers and quiet praises float in the air as you add a delicious twist to your wrist with each pass, spreading the dewy precum leaking all over Steven’s stiff cock. He arches his back involuntarily, his hands desperate to touch you anywhere and everywhere as you jerk him closer and closer to the edge. God, he wants to feel you so badly.
Steven throws his head back, his eyes screwing shut while his lower half thrusts eagerly into your hand. He could feel it coming, his climax fast approaching. The breathy moans fleeing his parted lips grow in volume and frequency, much to your utter delight.
You love it when he doesn’t hold back. You love it when he’s noisy.
“D-Darling— oh, fuck! I-I’m about to come… shit. I’m almost—”
Then, you stop.
You fucking stop, and Steven struggles to contain his cry in frustration.
“Oh, Steven…” you coo, running your palms along his trembling legs. “I haven’t given you permission to come, now did I?”
What he says next is unintelligible, but you’re quite certain that it’s an apology laced with a desperate plea.
“Open your eyes, baby. Open them, please.”
Steven did as you requested, tears unknowingly running down his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry. You’re right; you hadn’t told me to come yet.”
The look you give him next is one of pity. You sigh softly, reaching a hand up to caress the side of his face. “You’re still alright with this, Steven?”
It takes him a second to realize what you’re asking. “Oh, yes. Yeah, I’m still alright with this, love.”
“You sure?”
A smile curls at his lips, his head nodding to your query. “I’m sure. Keep going, my love. This is absolutely the hottest thing we’ve ever done.”
You giggle at that before closing the gap between you and him with a kiss, pouring all the unspoken words into it.
Retreating back to where you were, your warm hand firmly encircles the base of his cock, now rock-solid with a swollen, purply tip. Leaning in, Steven’s mouth goes agape when you lick a thick stripe up his girthy member, your lustful gaze all the while locked with his. He gasps for air as you dart out your tongue, swirling it around his sensitive head, and he shudders at the sensation.
Steven stares in awe as you slowly take as much as you can into your mouth, groaning breathlessly once he’s engulfed in warmth and wetness. He tries to stay still when you begin to suck him, your cheeks hollowing and your hand stroking the remainder of him that couldn’t fit. You set a rhythmic pace that quickly got his legs quivering and toes curling. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your mouth continues bobbing and sucking and licking.
“Holy— shit, b-baby,” Steven mewls when you let him slip further into your mouth and hit the back of your throat. Squirming helplessly against his restraints, his arms are growing terribly sore, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it at the moment. Not when he’s too preoccupied with your mouth and tongue and hands all at once, as well as the wet sounds of choking and your sensual moans filling up the entire room.
“I’m getting— fuck— I-I’m getting close again, sweetheart,” Steven sputters in between whimpers.
A part of him expects you to cease yet again, and you did. He raggedly moans at the loss of warmth after you withdraw from his cock. Your hands, however, keep stroking him as you speak, “Close, huh? Alright, honey. I want you to come in my mouth. I wanna taste you as you finish. Got that, Steven?”
You don’t give Steven a chance to respond. Immediately, your mouth resumes its ministrations, and he chants your name repeatedly, the tight coil deep inside him swiftly unraveling. Panting heavily, you sloppily suck him near to his completion. He’s thrashing his hips wildly now, the chair scuffing the floor underneath as he jerks forward.
Steven then suddenly stills with a hoarse moan, his cock pulsing in your mouth, twitching and spilling thick, hot white ribbons of cum onto your waiting tongue. He feels you swallow all around him, taking in every spurt he’s released, and not one single drop is missed.
Languidly, he doesn’t come to right away. His heart is pounding madly in his chest, blood still buzzing in his ears. Steven lets out a quiet gasp as you take out his softening cock from your mouth, his body slightly shivering from the overstimulation.
Rising up to your feet, you then retrieve the key to the handcuffs and soon freed Steven from his bindings. You gently hold his hands into yours, inspecting the faint bruises left by the harsh pull of the restraints. He winces as your fingers ghost over his wrists, but he reassures you with a small smile.
“Don’t worry, love. It doesn’t hurt that much,” Steven whispers sweetly as he gets up from his seat. You help steady him when he stumbles a bit, his legs limp and pliant while trying to stand. “But this idea of yours was wicked. Don’t think I’ve ever come that hard from a blowjob, heh.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” you tell him, brushing the damp fallen curls away from his blissful eyes.
“Thanks for trusting me, Steven. It truly means a lot. And if you ever want to, you’re more than welcome to use the cuffs on me, too. I’m also extending the invitation to Marc, by the way, if he’s interested.”
You heard that, Steven? Thinking it’s my turn with the body now. Give it.
“Uhhh… Marc seems jazzed about it.”
You chuckle softly. “Well, I’ll be waiting in bed if Marc wants his turn to play.”
Smiling, you give Steven one last kiss on the lips, eyeing him wickedly before disappearing to the bedroom.
Steven, the body now… please?
“Oh, bloody hell, fine,” he grumbles out loud, letting Marc take control for the rest of the night.
part 2
- ☾-
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sourwolf-sterek32 · 6 months
Text
Barely Breathing
Summary: When Steven asks why you're wearing long sleeves on a hot day, Marc quickly fronts because he knows exactly what you are trying to hide on your wrists.
Pairings: Steven Grant x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Trigger Warning: Self-harm, blood, cuts (no actual description of doing it, just the aftermath), past suicide attempt (no details, just mentioned briefly)
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The cuts beneath your sleeve stung as you stepped out the bathroom. The fabric of your hoodie sticking to the fresh blood underneath, but you welcomed the pain.
"Hey, love." Steven’s voice called out causing you to freeze not realising he was in your apartment.
Shit.
The two of you had plans to catch a movie today. How could you forget?
"Hey, Steven." You greeted, putting on a bright smile that you knew didn't quite reach your eyes.
Steven had always been able to tell when you were lying and when his brows began to furrow slightly, you knew he noticed. He took a hesitant step towards you. Those beautiful brown eyes filled with sudden concern.
"You alright?"
You nodded, still smiling. "Of course. Let me just grab my bag and we can go."
"Why are you wearing a hoodie? It's bloody scorching out there in the sun.”
"I know, but it always gets so cold in the cinemas." You lied, trying to keep up your usual bright bubbly tone.
You turned away and grabbed your bag off the kitchen bench making sure you had your phone and keys before heading towards the front door. The cinema was only a 10-minute walk from your apartment. You could survive wearing long sleeves for that time in the hot weather.
"Show me."
Stevens sweet British accent was gone, now replaced with a stern American one.
Marc.
"Show you what?"
You turned to face him, but when you were met with a hard yet heartbroken eyes you knew what he was referring to. Your stomach dropped, hands already shaking by your sides because he wasn't meant to know. He wasn't meant to find out.
"Y/N, show me." He ordered, his voice coming out a little rougher than usual, like he was fighting back emotion. "Please."
"There's nothing to show." You shrugged off, hoping he would drop the topic.
"Y/N-"
"I need to go to the bathroom. When I finish can Steven come back? We're meant to be going to the movies." You said, not waiting for him to answer before making your way across the apartment towards the bathroom, but Marc stepped in front of you, blocking your path.
You gave him a levelled look before stepping around him, when he suddenly shot his hand out and grabbed your wrist.
Sharp pain flared across your wrist, his fingers digging into the cuts beneath your sleeve. He hadn't grabbed you hard though, Marc was never violent, at least not with you. If anything, he was overly gentle, always afraid that he might hurt you by accident, despite you constantly reassuring him that you weren't some fragile piece of glass.
Although, right now, that is exactly what you felt like.
A fragile piece of glass. Glass that was already cracked and damaged, and on the verge of shattering at the slightest touch.
You yanked your arm out his grasp with a pained wince and Marc’s eyes widened, realising that his suspicion was correct, but you quickly turned on your heels and rushed off not wanting to see the look on his face. Would he be sad? Angry? Disappointed? You weren't sure, but you didn't want to find out.
Marc shouted your name, but you ignored him and locked the bathroom door behind yourself with shaky hands.
"No, no, baby, please. Open the door." Marc begged, knocking on the wooden frame within a few seconds.
"Go away, Marc." You responded, fighting back tears.
You leant your hands on the edge of the sink and lifted your head meeting your own gaze through the bathroom mirror. You reached down and pulled up the sleeve of your hoodie, grimacing as the blood stuck to the fabric before you looked down at the fresh cuts that were still sluggishly bleeding.
"I am not leaving. Not after this. Open the door."
Your vision began to blur with tears as you thought back to the last time Marc was banging on your bathroom door like this. The two of you were just teenagers then.
Marc had tried to help you. He tried to be there for you, but there was nothing he could do. You had wanted out. You wanted out permanently. You wanted it all to end, so that is what you tried to do with an old switch blade, but Marc broke down the bathroom door and saved you.
The thick scar still ran from your wrist down towards your inner elbow. It was a constant reminder of that day. A reminder of your lowest moment in life. You had tried to kill yourself, there was no sugar coating it and Marc knew it too.
But you didn't want that anymore… okay, that was a lie, but you weren't going to do it. You couldn't, because every time you so much as thought about it, you'd see Marc’s petrified, tear streaked face and you couldn't do it. You couldn't put him through that, not again. But you could get rid of the pain, even if it was only for a short while, which is what you had just done.
A few cuts were all it took. The pain grounded you.
It was fucked up, you knew it was, but you couldn't stop. It was the only way you knew how to cope with everything.
You needed it.
You needed the physical pain to drown out everything else, because for those few seconds with a blade against your skin, your mind was at ease. You weren't thinking about anything else. You weren't feeling anything else, and you liked it.
That's how you knew you were really fucked up, because you liked it. You actually liked the pain.
"Y/N, open the door!" Marc shouted from outside the room.
"Leave me alone." You said, hating how fragile your voice sounded.
You hadn't even realised you were crying until you felt the tears fall from your face and land on your hands against the sink.
"And leave you here to cut yourself?" He questioned bluntly.
Yes, you thought.
But you didn't say that out loud. And Marc didn't leave.
"If you don't open the door, I will break it down. We both know I can."
He definitely could, and he would do it again, you knew that.
Damn it.
Taking in a deep shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your face before reaching over and flicking the lock. The second the door was unlocked Marc rushed inside in panic.
You glanced over at him, preparing yourself for a lecture, but he wasn't looking at you. His wide eyes were glued to your wrist that you forgot to cover with your sleeve.
The cuts along your inner arm were on full view. Some were healed and scarred, others bright red and fresh.
"How long?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you been doing this to yourself? Days? Weeks?"
"More."
You didn't look at him as you spoke, not wanting to see the disappointment and pity in his eyes.
"Jesus Christ." He whispered to himself.
He didn't say anything after that for the longest moment. You pulled your sleeve back down and folded your arms across your chest as if hiding the evidence would make this any better.
"I can't believe this." Marc eventually said, shaking his head.
You remained silent, knowing he had more to say, but he just clenched his jaw shut as if he was trying to stop himself from saying something. It didn't last long though because his eyes suddenly met yours, pain and sadness washing over him. There was a flash of anger amongst the sadness inside him and the anger won.
"You fucking promised." He hissed.
Your heart shattered at those three words.
You had promised him. That night after he found you, you had promised that you wouldn't do anything like that again. You promised and now that promise was broken.
"How could you do this to me?" He asked, his voice breaking. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
You flinched at his sudden raised voice, and he opened his mouth to keep speaking but quickly closed it and turned his head towards the mirror, glaring at his own reflection. You knew Steven must be talking to him, but whatever he was saying, Marc didn't like.
"Don't you tell me what to do. Not with this!" He snapped harshly, still staring at his own reflection talking to Steven. "Shut up! You weren't there last time."
"Marc. Don't." You warned, eyeing him cautiously.
You didn't want him to tell Steven about what happened last time. You didn't want Steven to know. He didn't need to know, and you didn't want him to look at you or treat you differently because if he knew, then he would.
"Steven, I swear to God-" Marc started to threaten before he paused and he shook his head at his mirrored reflection, angry tears glistening in his eyes. "You weren't the one who found her bleeding out on the bathroom floor when we were kids!"
A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you quickly covered your mouth with shaky hands, unable to stop the fresh tears from rising in your eyes.
Memories of that day washed over you, but you shoved them back because if you started to think about it, you would lose yourself and you couldn't afford that right now.
Marc turned back towards you with guilty eyes, like he only just realised what he had just said.
"I'm sorry-"
"Get out." You whispered, cutting him off.
"Baby-"
"I said, get out!" You repeated, your voice no longer soft and fragile as you shouted angrily.
Marc stood there for a moment, contemplating whether to listen to you or not before you marched forward and shoved him in the chest causing him to stumble backwards, not expecting the sudden contact.
"Get out!" You screamed, pushing his chest, but this time he was ready for it and barely budged.
You tried again, but he didn't move. You began to hit his chest, screaming at him to get out, but your shouts slowly faded into sobs and before you knew it, Marc wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.
That was all it took before you broke down.
Marc held you tightly while you cried in his arms. He whispered soothing words and rubbed small circles between your shoulder blades trying to calm you. His big arms were warm and comforting around you, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed your true emotions to show as you cried against him.
“It’s okay. I got you, baby. I got you.” Marc whispered while he held you.
The next few minutes went by in a blur, but when you finally started to calm down you very quickly realised that it was no longer Marc holding you. You had been with Marc and Steven for long enough to know the difference between the two of them, and this was definitely not Marc.
"Steven?" You asked, your voice coming out a mere whisper.
"Hey, yeah, it's me." He answered softly, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly in a gesture of comfort. "Marc, uh, he needed a minute."
You nodded in understanding against him before Steven slowly pulled away, keeping his hands on your shoulders, but you kept your head lowered, not wanting to see the look on his face.
"Love, look at me.”
You expected to hear him sound mad, to sound angry or pissed off after finding out about all of this, but he didn't. He just sounded sad.
"Please. Y/N, please look at me." He practically begged.
Reluctantly, you lifted your head, wiping the tears from your eyes before you met his gaze and had to do a double take when you saw that his own eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
Seeing Steven on the verge of crying was all it took before the flood gates opened, tears rising in your eyes once again. A violent sob escaped your lips when you cried and Steven's expression broke.
"I-I'm sorry. Please... please don't hate me."
Steven was instantly pulling you back into his chest as he hugged you which just made you cry even more.
"I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He insisted, holding you tightly.
"I'm sorry. I-I... I'm so sorry." You whimpered, burying your face against his chest.
"No, no, it's alright. Shh. It's okay. It's okay." He soothed, kissing the top of your head. "I wish you would have told me."
"I'm sorry"
"No, I don't want you to apologise, love. I just... I want you to know that you can talk to me, alright? I'm sorry I didn't realise how much you were hurting."
"I didn't want you to know." You admitted softly, pulling away from him.
Steven sighed, “yeah, I know. But I'm here for you. No matter what, yeah? I'm always here for you."
You nodded, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying again.
Steven suddenly looked over at the mirror, Marc no doubt talking to him.
"Is he still angry at me?" You asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
Steven quickly looked back at you, his expression softening as he shook his head.
"No, no, of course not. He was never angry with you. He was just scared." He replied, before glancing back at the mirror. "Yes, you were. Nah, I don't wanna hear it. You were scared, I felt it. Don't try and deny it, you were scared."
Steven didn't say anything for a moment while he listened to whatever Marc was telling him.
"I know, mate. I know. I'll tell her."
"Tell me what?" You asked, watching Steven glance back at the mirror before turning to you.
"Is it alright if Marc takes over for a bit? He wants to tell you something himself."
You nodded and Steven gave you a small smile before turning his attention back to the mirror and you watch as Marc fronted a few seconds later. Stevens smile now gone and replaced with Marc’s sad eyes.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to shout. I shouldn't have raised my voice, but I was never angry at you. I need you to know that. I was never angry at you. I was angry at myself." Marc admitted, averting his eyes in shame.
"Why?" You asked in confusion.
"Because I should have been there for you. I should have noticed something was wrong. I should have seen the signs, but I didn’t, and you had to go through all this pain alone."
Tears began to burn in the back of your eyes, but you forced them back because Marc looked on the verge of crying himself and you knew if you cried then he would too.
"None of that was your fault." You insisted, but he shook his head.
"I still should have noticed, but I didn't and when you locked yourself in here like last time, I thought... I thought..." He couldn't finish his sentence and you quickly stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him.
You didn't say anything. You weren’t sure if you could speak right now even if you wanted to. So, you buried your face in the crook of his neck as Marc’s arms snaked around your back, hugging you tightly.
"If you ever feel like doing this to yourself again, I need you to come to me, okay? Or Steven. If you don't feel comfortable coming to me, then go to him, okay? Promise me that you will come to us."
"I promise. I'm sorry." You sniffed.
"Hey, no, none of that. I just want you to be okay." He whispered, his hand cupping the back of your head as he held you. "I love you, baby. I love you so much."
-
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A/N- Sorry I have been a bit MIA lately. Real life kinda sucks at the moment, but I wrote this short fic a few months ago during a bad time and decided to finally post it.
Thank you for reading, stay safe and stay strong guys. ily ❤️
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