Steven Grant X Reader - Blog Posts

WHAT I WRITE FOR

☄. *. ⋆

requests are open

☄. *. ⋆

supernatural

harry potter

marvel

moonknight

jujutsu kaisen

attack on titan

lord of the rings

the hobbit

the witcher

detroit: become human

inside job

the mandalorian

jjba ( first 5 parts )

the boys

guns n' roses

dave mustaine

metallica

MASTERLIST

My You-niverse: Marc

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Oscar Isaac's Characters x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

A/N: I will not be taking tags also, lets hope I actually follow through with this...

Series Masterlist

"Why. Won't. You. Stay. Down?!" you say with every punch to your opponent. He heads falls back with a thud and a groan. You sigh in relief as you crawl off him. You point your finger at his unconscious form, "Stay."

You hear a snicker and you turn to see Marc, donning the Moon Knight regalia, approaching you, "Good job, honey."

"Guys! Uh, help!" you hear America cry out a distance away.

You both sprint in her direction. You see her dodging hits from a man twice her size.

"Why did you leave the kid fight this frickin' giant?!"

"We were going to come back to help." you reply.

"Better late than never, yeah?" Steven pops in to add and then lets Marc back in control.

Your husband swoops in right before aforementioned giant lands a punch to America. The hit lands to Marc's chest, knocking him back to America, who flies into you behind her.

A portal suddenly opens up and the two of you fall back in.

You both land on the ground with a thud and watch as the star portal closes.

America groans, "Not again!"

She scurries up and tries to summon another portal. She continues to punch the air again and again and...nothing.

"Crap!"

You hesitantly rise to your feet, "That...doesn't sound good."

Her shoulders slouch, "It's not."

"I still haven't completely mastered the whole portal summoning thing."

You sigh in defeat, "Well, not what?"

"We can find this universe's me or Doctor Strange and see if they can help?"

"Sure. Let's do that." the two of you then take in your surroundings and, "Wait...where the hell are we?"

_________________

The giant man's body goes limp, falling back on a metal beam, impaling himself to death.

Marc, panting, looks around for you and America, "Honey?" he calls out, "Y/N? ...America? Guys?!" he removes his hood and mask, running his hand through his curls in distress, "Shit!"

Steven suddenly fronts, "Whe-Where is she? Where are they? What the hell happened?!"

"I don't know, Steven. One minute they were there and the next they were gone."

"Should we go to Doctor Strange? America's like his protege, yeah?"

"We have no choice. Shit, he's gonna be pissed."

_____________

"I TOLD YOU TO WATCH HER!" Stephen Strange hollered at Marc.

"We did! And she was fine until the giant douche tried to land one on her and I stepped in and then her and Y/N were gone!"

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, "Dammit." he begins to pace back and forth, "They could be in any universe right now. Guess I'll have to jump to each one and hope I find them."

Marc steps forward, "I'm coming too."

Stephen points a stern finger at him, "No. You've already done enough."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do while you look for them?" Marc asks as Stephen begins to ascend the stairs in the Sanctum.

Stephen's reply echoes, "Try not to fuck anything up further."

even without a beard

You really enjoy watching Steven shave.

Warnings: Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show and some light research), however Jake and Marc aren’t actually present, just mentioned. Use of a razor (for shaving). Word count: 545 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

I can't explain to you how feral this gif makes me feel.

It was a sight to behold, really. You don’t know what it was, but the sight of Steven with half his jaw covered in shaving cream as he meticulously shaved did something for you. Maybe it was the fact that he does it shirtless, or maybe it was the way his hands moved. Yeah, it has something to do with the hands. Or his jaw. It was something.

Steven, and by default Marc and Jake, were prone to growing facial hair very quickly, meaning whoever was fronting would have to keep on top of it (Jake had fought tooth and nail to let them grow a beard, but both Marc and Steven refused). Jake had sulked for days about it.

“Take a picture, love, it’ll last longer.”

You giggle…actually giggle, before you grab your phone and do just exactly what he tells you to. Steven gives you a quick, amused look before he turns back to his bathroom mirror, where he tilted his head to the right to get to that difficult spot by his ear.

He was so beautiful. The world didn’t deserve the likes of Steven Grant. So kind, and considerate, and downright good looking. You sighed at him before standing from the bed and making your way into the bathroom. Steven took a step to his left to make some room for you as you stood next to him, watching him continue shaving in the mirror. You tilted your head at him as he caught your eye. “Why don’t you keep the beard?”

“Why, do I look better with it?”

You shook your head. “You look good either way, I was just wondering.”

Steven chuckled, rinsing the razor in the sink, half filled with water, now a little murky from the shaving cream. He was nearly finished, unfortunately. Now you’d have to wait a few more days to see this magnificent sight again. “I just don’t like how it feels on me. It’s itchy and food gets stuck in there.”

You merely hummed in reply, turning slightly to face him and leaning against the sink. You lift your hand to run through Steven’s unruly curls, his eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head as you did. “I like when you shave.”

Steven laughed, shaking his head as you removed your hand from his hair. “What a weird kink to have.” He grabs a towel, ready to clean his face up.

You swat him playfully on the shoulder as Steven pulled the plug to let the water go, setting his razor on it’s place on the shelf under the mirror. You stick your tongue out at him. “Don’t kink shame me! You’re the one tempting me, being shirtless and shaving!”

“If you want me to grow a beard, I will grow a beard.” Steven wipes the towel around his jaw.

“Bet Jake would love that.”

Steven huffed a laugh through his nose before grabbing your waist and pulling you to him. You squeal as he nuzzles his face into your neck, rubbing the remaining shaving cream onto your skin. His hold tightens on you as he looked back up at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too. Even without a beard.“

“Charming.”

French Lessons (Steven Grant x f!Reader)

Summary: You had been in desperate want to learn French, but the absolute droll of learning through a boring app was no fun. Coincidentally, you meet a brilliant gift shop clerk at the museum who can teach you French while you can teach him a thing or two about love.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you agree that you are 18 years or older)

Word Count: 5K

Content: Explicit Smut, pining, masturbation references, dry humping, fingering, handjob, fluff, romance, French, Steven Grant, slight reference to Marc Spector

Notes: My Steven fic has finally arrived!! I'm hoping to turn this into a series because I have quite a few other ideas and I don't want to leave you hanging with just a taste of the two of them. But I hope you like it and share/reblog! Love y'all!

Updated Note: Wow!! Thank you so much for all of your kind words and notes. Part 2 is currently in the works and coming soon.

Bonjour! Je m'appelle Vivienne Rousseau et bienvenue à votre premier cours de français’! 

Hello! My name is Vivienne Rousseau and welcome to your first French lesson! Did you understand my first sentence? If not, not to worry! I will teach you how to learn and with the right dedication you’ll be speaking fluently in the next 6 months! Today’s lesson is all about beginnings…

You whine as you raise your volume on your phone to stay focused. However, the tall statues and figurines in front of you were not helping like you thought it would. You had come to the National Museum to gain some peace and clarity while starting this new venture. French was always a language you had dreamed of learning, so why not start now? Sure, the grating voice of Vivienne Rousseau would drag you along through it, but this was a new adventure. The start of something interesting…

As long as you could pay attention. It wasn’t your fault Vivienne’s voice sounded like a high-pitched foghorn. But the reviews for her app were rave and they wouldn’t take your credit card information for another week, so if it became a bigger drag than it already was, you could cancel your free trial. 

You walked throughout the museum trying to focus on your lesson, but rewound the same phrases over and over. 

Je m’apelle Vivienne. Je suis ravi de vous rencontrer. 

You were thinking it wasn’t the pyramids and statues that weren’t helping you focus, but you figured it was time for you to leave the museum, regardless. Before the trip home, you stopped at the gift shop for a bottle of water. You walked over to the gift shop counter t o grab the attention of a man entirely more focused on his Egyptian mythology book than having to sell stuffed scarabs. He looked slightly disheveled, with black curly tendrils falling all over his head. When you made eye contact with him, he had dark crescents under his eyes and a timid smile. He looked so nervous to a complete stranger, you couldn’t imagine how he was towards his coworkers. 

Reaching for your water, the cord of your earbuds snapped and broke free from your phone. If you hadn’t noticed by the snapping of the cord, you would’ve noticed from Vivienne’s grating voice booming throughout your speaker: 

Bonjour! Comment ça vas?

“Bien, merci. Et vous-même?” You look up and the tired, timid man has spoken, meeting your eyes with a softer smile. 

You smile back and laugh. “Sorry about that. This is what happens when I don’t get earbuds from the last five years.” 

“Well, it’s not about the earbuds, innit? It’s what’s in them that matters. Learning French?” He asks. 

“If you could even call it that. I thought coming to the museum would help me focus up, but this woman I’m listening to sounds well braindead.”

“Je suis désolé. D'après ce que j'ai entendu, elle ressemblait à un bouton absolu.” The crinkles in the corner of his eyes became more prominent and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I’m sorry. From what I heard, she sounded like an absolute knob.” He translated. He introduced himself. Steven. With a V. You asked Steven with a V if he’d like to make some extra money on the side and before you knew it, you were meeting at the bistro every Wednesday for an hour of French lessons with Steven with a V.

Steven was not as drab and droning as Vivienne Rousseau, quite the opposite. Before and after your hour was up, you found yourselves talking more and more about your days; him describing the gift shop and his aspirations to be a tour guide despite his awful boss Donna. You couldn’t understand how he wasn’t. It seemed like everything he talked about could circle back to his love for Egyptology and the wonder of the gods and goddesses. How does someone like that know so much about it but he’s stuck behind a desk selling crisps and plushies? 

After your 3rd meeting, you’d plucked up the courage to ask him. The first thing he did was look at you after those compliments with such earnest gratitude you felt your insides melt. The second thing he told you was that he had a sleeping disorder that kept him further back in life than he’d wanted. He aspired to have adventure, and life and zest as much as he could, but for right now… the gift shop was just enough.

That was the first night you had gone to bed thinking of how kind his smile was, chasing the warmth throughout your body it had given you as if you’d just taken a shot. You’d found yourself eager for the next lesson, to hear about his new studies, to watch his hands as he notated on your writing. 

You’d gotten to the bistro thirty minutes early, in your same corner table at the patio, waiting for Steven.

You waited. 

And you waited. 

And you waited. 

Two hours later, he never showed. 

You felt your insides deflate as you traveled home. You’d checked your text messages every ten minutes hoping to see a sign that he was okay or if he was busy or if he just didn’t want to come. Maybe he’d seen the way you looked at him in your last lesson and found it inappropriate? 

You wished Steven standing you up would’ve completely turned you off to him, but unfortunately, it just had him occupying your mind more and more until the sounds of his voice describing tales of the green jewel lulled you to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning to your phone going off, although it wasn’t your alarm. Steven was in the middle of writing you a flurry of text messages with apologies about how he wasn’t able to make it last night and how his sleeping had completely mucked his week up. He asked if you were free that night for your lesson and a free meal to make it up. While you agreed to see him, your worry and apprehension weren’t immediately gone. You weren’t sure if this was just his common excuse he had given women, but, it was worth it to hear him out. 

You had gotten to the restaurant and there at your familiar corner table was Steven Grant, looking like the saddest dog you had ever seen. As soon as you were in eye view, he walked up to you, moving to place his hand on your shoulder but hesitating. He moved it back to clasp his other palm. 

“Y/N. I am so deeply, deeply sorry. I go to bed on Saturday and then I woke up, and it’s Thursday and I feel like I got hit by a double-decker bus and— “

“Je te pardonne. Mangeons.” You had said. I forgive you. Let’s Eat. And he flashed you that damn smile again, and you felt your insides crack like an egg to the stove. 

There wasn’t as much lesson as there was dinner this night as you and Steven had discussed every topic you could. Work, music, books, television. No topic was left off the table as you waited for your food. The server brought out the very vegan Steven’s steaming lentil soup and what was supposed to be your salmon was replaced with a large burger. 

“I’m so sorry miss, it’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen back there tonight. I’ll get this sorted out straight away.” The server said to you. You saw the steam coming out of Steven’s soup and instead of digging in, his hands were placed politely on his lap. 

When the server came back out, he had brought trout, which you were unfortunately allergic to or else you would’ve scarfed it down by then. More than a half hour had gone by and you were still waiting for your dinner. And there was Steven, hands no longer in his lap but marking your French in his thick glasses. You took a mental note of how good he looked in them while cursing yourself for doing so. 

“Steven, if you want to eat, I completely understand. Your food must already be freezing.” You said, eying the way his hands held his pen. 

“Not to worry.” He said cheerfully. “The great thing about lentils is that you can eat them hot or cold and I want to make sure you’re taken care of. Laisse moi prendre soin de toi.” You immediately felt your face redden and were so glad that your food had come back correctly this time so you could bury your head in your salmon and vegetables. 

When you went home that night, you thought of his thick fingers, his kind eyes and the repeat of him saying “Laisse moi prendre soin de toi” in your head as you slowly slipped your fingers under the covers, dreaming of how your French tutor would say that to the heat between your legs. 

Laisse moi prendre soin de toi. Let me take care of you. 

He wasn’t late for the next lesson. He was there when you had arrived, 15 minutes before, to counter the overeager 30 minutes versus strolling in right on time. You wanted him to know you care about these lessons, but maybe not too much. 

When you had walked over to the table, Steven had another downtrodden look on his face. His lips were turned down, and he was looking down at the ground. When he heard your footsteps, his face immediately brightened and damn, this was not helping your crush. 

“Bad day at the museum?” You greet him as he sullenly nodded. 

“Donna started taking the piss at me as soon as I got into work. A child — a child!! — came up to me and asked me where the bloody bathroom was and all I hear after I show her where it is—‘Stevie, you’re not a tour guide. It’ll never happen, so stop trying.’” He mocked Donna with a nasally grating voice. 

“I’m sorry. It’s like she doesn’t even give you a chance to prove yourself.” 

“Exactly!!” Steven excitedly exclaims as a few people from other tables looked around. He muttered apologies. “I’m just so tired of her thinking I’m some bumbling git. It’s not like she knows where the Hathor temple is and she could answer someone if they asked her. She wouldn’t even know Hathor if she bit her in the arse.” 

You giggled as he went on. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Let’s get on with our lesson soon, but do you mind if I eat here again tonight? She wouldn’t even let me take a lunch today!” 

“Well, since you had an absolutely shit day, I think it’s my turn to get dinner. And I’ll do one extra.” The server came around to your table as Steven looked at you, puzzled. 

“Excuse me, sir, but can you recommend your finest French wine?” 

A couple of hours later and two bottles of wine down, dinner was finished but there yet again wasn’t much of a French lesson. Giddy and bubbly from wine, you and Steven continued your endless back and forth and it felt like you could talk to him about just about anything. You saw him look at his phone screen to look at the time and you felt your heart sink a bit. 

“Oh bugger, it’s already 9 PM.” Steven frowned. “I don’t want to keep you too long. I’m sure you have plenty to do.” 

“No! Wednesdays are always our nights.” You saw his smile widen when you said that, the crinkles in his eyes deepening. “Besides, I wouldn’t just consider tonight a French lesson but me trying to cheer up a friend who seems to have had a bad day.” 

“Not so bad now, innit?” He grinned. You looked into his eyes with no reluctance, the alcohol warming your body giving you courage to keep contact. He had beautiful, dark eyes and his nose was so strong and defined. You knew better than to even look at his lips, though, because once you did, you would stare too long and then goodbye to your friend and French tutor. 

You heard a slight rumble and felt droplets hit your shoulders. First quietly and then pounding as the rain came through like a. Luckily you had already paid for yours and Steven’s food so you ran under the patio’s awning, Steven’s arm was halfway out of his jacket when he ran over to you and then flipped the jacket over your head. 

“What do we do now? I know we’re having a great time, but you’re also not exactly paying me to gossip during a rainstorm.” Steven shouted over the loud rain. 

Liquid courage be damned. You thought of an offer that you didn’t want to come off the wrong way, but it was raining and you did pay him for a lesson you hadn’t exactly completed. You bit your lip in contemplation and you could’ve sworn in the corner of your eye you saw Steven eyeing your swollen bottom lip. 

“My flat isn’t too far, if you don’t mind it.” Steven looked at you for what felt like a long moment and you held your breath. He nodded and kept his jacket above your head the entire way. 

As soon as you had gotten to your flat, you thought the alcohol would wear off, but the last bottle you two had shared was just kicking in. The two of you ran and giggled back to your apartment like a couple of schoolchildren, and you felt so refreshed. You loved that you could be silly with him. 

“This is it! Sorry I haven’t fixed it up much.” You said, tossing your shoes on the floor and your keys on your counter. 

“It’s much better than my place.” Steven looked around. “You wouldn’t be surprised though, loads of books, loads of paperwork, a goldfish named Gus.” 

You snorted. “Come on, my books and my desk are in the bedroom.” 

He followed you into your bedroom as you turned on the desk light, lit enough to illuminate the space needed but not too bright to cause a headache. You fell onto your bed, back first, with your arms stretched out to the back of your head. It felt so good to close your eyes. It felt so good being tipsy. It felt so good being with Steven. Where is Steven? When you opened your eyes, there he was at your desk, eyeing your stack of French books. 

“I have to say this is quite the collection Miss Y/N.” He took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on and you had to shut your eyes quickly before the heat between your legs grew to an uncomfortable amount. “Baudelaire, Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and you have my favorite, Victor Hugo.” 

“No way, Victor Hugo is my favorite as well!” You shot up excitedly. He had Hugo’s book in his hand as he skimmed through. 

“Le Roi S’amuse, I love absolutely love this play.” 

“Can I tell you something?” You swung your feet off of your bed to distract your bubbling nerves. “I’ve really wanted to pick up French just so I can read more French literature I can fall in love with. See more plays, get more cultured.” 

“That’s what I like about you, Y/N.” Steven said, bringing the book with him as moved next to you on the bed. “We haven’t exactly gone over this term yet, but when I think about you, I think of your joie de vivre. Your lust for life. You see things and opportunities and you take them.” 

You feel yourself redden. “What exactly do you mean by that?” 

“I just mean, if it was the other way around, I could’ve never walked up to an attractive stranger and asked them to teach me French.” He looks down nervously for a brief moment and then steadies himself, giving you deep eye contact. You’re almost rendered speechless. 

“Are you telling me you find yourself attractive, Steven Grant?” You whisper. Your eyes are locked on each other. You’ve never seen someone with such dark, kind eyes. 

“Can I tell you which verse is my favorite?” You break the silence. “It would probably do me good to have you hear some of my French tonight.” You giggle. Steven doesn’t giggle. He slowly nods as your liquid courage takes over. Your hands are shaking, but you feel the electricity. 

You slip your hands onto his and help guide him to your favorite passage. His eyes don’t leave your face. It’s as if he’s studying you like a new art installation. 

“La vie est une fleur, l’amour en est le miel.” You recite. 

“Life is a flower, love is its honey.” Steven translates. His hands are so, so warm on yours. 

  “C’est la colombe unie à l’aigle dans le ciel,” you continue, briefly daring to look up at his eyes, which are now on your hands. He looks absolutely dazed, as if he can’t believe this is real. 

“It’s the dove united with the eagle in the sky,” You notice Steven's hands are shaking too. 

“C’est la grâce tremblante à la force appuyée,” Do you dare to move your hands? 

“It’s the trembling grace to the leaning force,” He’s looking directly at you again. No wine, no French, no lentil soup could save you now. 

“C’est ta main dans ma main doucement oubliée…” You rub your hands on top of his and his fingers feel exactly how you thought they would, and more. 

“It’s your hand in my gently forgotten hand…” He moves one hand to your shoulder. Your heart feels as if it’s in your throat. 

“Aimons-nous! aimons-nous!” There are exclamation points in the text, but all that comes out of your mouth is a faint whisper. 

“Let’s love each other. Let’s love each other.” Somehow, your faint whisper is louder than Steven’s. 

And then silence. You feel yourself gravitate towards him, the heat of your lips meeting as they finally collide and give you the sweetest satisfaction. 

Steven Grant’s lips are softer than you could have ever fantasized. He’s gentle, slow and leaves you lingering for more. One hand is still on your Victor Hugo book, rubbing the palm of your hand as your fingers are laced together. 

You break apart briefly and lean your foreheads on each other, grinning as he rubbed your shoulder. 

“I feel like I’ve been wanting to do that since I first met you.” Steven confesses. You take your other hand and run it through his tussled black curls as you continue to kiss him. He follows your lead, matching the pace of your kisses and, albeit awkwardly initially, slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste him. 

As the kiss deepened, you heard the book slam onto the ground with a large thud as you lifted yourself onto his lap. You heard Steven gasp, and you broke the kiss. 

“Is everything alright?” You scan his eyes for any discomfort. 

“I’m alright, love.” His hands continue gripping your shoulders tightly. You place your hands on them, moving them slowly from your shoulders to the curve of your hips. 

“You don’t have to worry.” You whisper into his lips. “You can touch me however you want.” He exhaled and gripped your hip with more confidence. His other hand moved to the back of your neck as your lips crashed together, moving at a faster pace. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, which causes him to moan. You pushed against him, slowly rocking on him, your skirt slipping up by the friction. 

He groans before breaking the kiss. “I should let you know something. I’m not like other men.” 

“That’s precisely what I like about you, Steven.” You move your lips to the warmth of his neck, sucking on him as he groans again, shaking his head as if he needs to get out of his trance. 

“No, I’m serious Y/N. I’ve told you about my sleeping disorder… how it causes me to miss certain days and how I feel so knackered afterwards. It’s… caused me to miss quite a bit out of life.”

“And I can help you make it up.” You nibble on his ear. 

“I’m a virgin.” He blurts out so fast you almost miss it. 

You take a moment to settle into his lap, hands still firmly smoothing out his soft curls. He looks down with a tinge of shame and embarrassment that you’re puzzled by, so you reassure him by lifting his chin up and giving him a soft kiss. 

“Hey, come on now. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It just hasn’t happened yet.” 

“Yeah, at least not with the right person.” He takes his slightly shaky hand to hold the side of your face as you kiss his palm. 

“Well, we can go at whatever pace you like tonight.” 

"I just want to make you feel good Y/N.” Steven whispers. “Show me how to do that and I’ll be satisfied enough tonight.” 

“But I want you to be satisfied too, Steven. And I think I know of a way to do that.” 

You press your lips against his, but this time hungrier, needier. You wanted to show him how much you had been pining for him all of these weeks. Steven could steadily match with your pace, boldly biting your lower lip and smiling as he heard a moan exit your mouth. 

You move his hand from your face, slowly sliding it down your neck, to the curve of your breast. Steven let out a whimper as you guided his hand to knead your breast. He stared at your hands together, mouth agape, eyes hooded, in a trance. 

You moved his hand from your breast to your stomach, to your thighs as you guided his hand up your dress. You planted soft kisses on him while you guided him, but when you stop at the heat between your legs, he’s absolutely speechless. You remove your hand from his, letting him decide his next step. 

He rubs the outline of the wetness of your underwear as you sigh in pleasure. 

“Steven…” You whisper. 

“I could never get tired of hearing my name said like that.” He sighed, still looking at you in absolute unabashed awe. You removed the straps from your sundress, exposing your naked breasts, and instead of the trembling nerves Steven had shown you, he was massaging and rubbing at one nipple while still rubbing the outline of your underwear. 

“That feel good?” Steven murmured. 

“So good Steven.” Your nipples had started to harden under his touch. Steven removed his hand from your crotch so he could steady himself and focus on putting his breasts in your mouth. He took ample time with both of them, switching back and forth and sucking on them with such passion that his eyes were shut and he was moaning, silently praising your chest. 

After a few moments of bliss, you stopped him, lifting his head up as he could watch you get off of his lap and onto your knees. Just the simple action of you kneeling between his raging erection caused him to start quietly panting, not wanting any sudden movements to ruin this moment. 

You unfastened his belt, eyes still met with his as you saw the bulge from his boxers. There was a slight wet spot of pre-cum on the fabric and you felt your mouth water with anticipation. You pulled his boxers down so his cock could spring free and you weren’t only surprised but very pleased. 

Steven’s cock was so thick you could barely touch your thumb when wrapping your hand around him. He was already so firm and hard for you, veins slightly protruding out and more liquid glistening at the top of his tip. 

“Oh my God.” Steven chanted as you rubbed him up and down. “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“I can’t believe you’re so big.” You say, a bit hypnotized yourself. You had fantasized about this moment but couldn’t believe it was actually happening and better than you had ever expected. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Steven strained out. “As much as I would love for you to put your mouth… all… over me… I think our fun would end rather quickly, and that leaves us with a bit of a problem.” 

You slightly turn your mouth, upset you can’t have your mouth take the challenge of swallowing his cock just yet, but then you come up with an even better idea, giving Steven a devilish grin.

You slip his boxers back on, his bulge even more prominent than before, and Steven looks up at you with a puzzled look. You wrapped your legs around his hips and sunk your clothed crotch into his. 

“Oh, fuck Y/N.” Steven moaned. “Fuck, that feels amazing.” He fastened his hands on your hips as you slowly rocked into him. You put your forehead onto his, breathing in each other’s air as Steven quickened the pace, the pressure of his thickness tightening your bundle of nerves. You started to grind onto him, hard and fast, as he held himself steady with the softness of your ass. 

The warm pressure of his cock was about to make you come undone. His head was buried in between your breasts, not sucking at them but just breathing you in, just to make sure you were real. That this was real. 

Steven pushed his crotch up against you at a pace that you knew would unravel you. Your moans together became more rhythmic. 

“Steven, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You whined. You brought your hand not tangled in his curls to your clit as you began to rub it, this just quickened Steven’s pace as you bounced on his crotch, his hands gripped on your ass so tightly you knew you’d have bruises later. 

As your moans got louder, you felt yourself release, your orgasm throbbing throughout your entire body. Steven came quickly after, abruptly stopping as he released his warmth into his boxers. The two of you panted together, heads still connected through your foreheads. Closer than ever. 

“Wow.” Steven meekly whispered. “That was better than I ever imagined it would be. Tu es exquis."

”Tu es incroyable.” You whispered back, looking at him as he smiled warmly at you. “See, I’ve been paying attention.” 

The two of you laid there for a few moments until Steven went into your bathroom to clean up. You had slowly stripped away your dress and your bra, nestling under your duvet, leaving some space behind you for the wonderful man you were waiting for. 

A few moments passed, and you felt his warm body surrounding you, arms around your waist as he lay there naked, reciting Victor Hugo’s romantic poetry into your ear. 

“I reckon if I can’t give you a full French lesson, this was the best substitute.” Steven’s hands were circling lazily around your arms and you briefly reminisced about the time when he didn’t even know if a hug was appropriate. And now here he is in your bed, wearing no clothes and reciting poetry into your ear. 

Sometimes real life really eclipses fantasy. 

“I’d say this absolutely makes up for it, and then some. But… I think we’re going to have to go into double time next lesson to make up for it.” You grinned. 

“You’re right, maybe an oral exam will have to do.” Steven awkwardly quipped and you both laughed at his awkwardly adorable attempt at double entendre. 

You turned around and opened your arms up towards him. He moved his head towards your chest, arms gripping your waist tightly with the same fervor as earlier, as if you would float away and this was all a dream.

You buried your fingers in his curls, gripping your free hand to the back of his head until you drifted asleep. 

Steven Grant, the shy gift shop clerk that had offered you French lessons. 

Steven Grant, the brilliant, burgeoning Egyptologist that brightened your life with his stories and his warmth. 

Steven Grant. The start of something new. 

Taking Control

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader, Marc Spector x f!reader

Summary: Steven's jealousy over your coworker prompts him to step in and explore his dominant side.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, no use of y/n, toxic/ jealous behavior and brief argument (mostly from the boys but reader gets kinda petty too), inaccurate depiction of DID, dominant/ possessive Steven, teasing/ taunting, dirty talk, begging, spanking, fingering, edging, oral (m receiving), rough sex, p in v, creampie

 WC: 4.8k

A/N: two jealousy fics in a row…sorry not sorry. Also, I know Marc is acting like an irrational ass in the beginning and sorry if you don't like seeing that type of toxic behavior, but he's being over the top/overly dramatic on purpose so hopefully it doesn’t rub you the wrong way. Plus reader says some pretty petty things in response lol

You had a long day ahead of you. In addition to the normal workday, you were asked to take your new coworker, Scott, to dinner just to welcome him and give a run-down of the project your department is currently working on. You meant to text the boys and let them know you didn't need a ride, but you had rushed out of the house this morning and left your phone behind. Luckily, you always leave a note on the fridge telling them not to pick you up whenever you forget to let them know the night before. They know to check there before leaving, so you assumed they'd see it.

You realized it might have been a foolish assumption to make when Scott stopped by the office before taking you home so he could grab some files he left behind. When you arrive, the familiar black sedan sitting alone in the parking lot has your heart dropping to your stomach. You’re pretty sure that they’re here due to miscommunication, but you haven’t had your phone on you all day so you begin to worry that something may have happened, and they couldn’t get a hold of you.

Your coworker must sense your concern since he asks, “What’s wrong?” and looks at you confused.

“Um…nothing.” you reply, unbuckling your seatbelt and slowly making your way out of the car. Scott rounds the front, and your boyfriend climbs out of his car, slamming the door behind him. You can tell your coworker is a bit taken back by the mysterious man in front of him, so you speak up.

“Scott, this is my boyfriend…” you intentionally pause to allow whoever is fronting to introduce themselves. You're almost positive it's Marc based on the deep scowl on their face.

“Marc,” he says while crossing his arms.

"Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Scott.” Scott sticks out his hand as he introduces himself, but Marc doesn’t even look at him. You give him an apologetic look for your boyfriend's gruffness.

 "Babe, what are you doing here?" you inquire, still worried something's wrong.

“Picking you up,” he responds bluntly.

"Oh. Sorry I didn’t text you; I forgot my phone. But I told Natalie to let you where I was if you stopped by looking for me," you reply coolly, relieved that everything is ok, but you sense the irritation in his voice.

“She told me where you were,” he says bitterly, and he turns his head to glare at the man next to you. This is the first time he has acknowledged Scott, and you honestly wish he would’ve just kept ignoring him. Marc is usually a bit standoffish when it comes to meeting new people, but he’s never outright rude, so you’re a bit taken back at his demeanor.

“Have you been here all this time?” you ask incredulously. You’d been gone almost two hours, meaning that he had all that time to stew in his anger, which is clearly about to boil over.

“Yeah, so let’s go,” he impatiently answers.

You turn to Scott. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I hope I covered everything. If you have any questions let me know."

“I will. I was thinking we could exchange numbers, you know, in case I- “, before Scott can finish speaking, Marc is pulling you towards the car.

“Thanks for dinner!” you shout to him as Marc opens your door and guides you into your seat hurriedly. Scott gives you a puzzled look at the abrupt goodbye and you flash him yet another apologetic look. Hopefully he'd forget about this whole thing come Monday.

Marc is pulling out of the parking lot before you can even buckle your seat belt, and you turn to him, looking displeased.

“You really embarrassed me back there,” you say and Marc scoffs.

“Yeah, well how do you think I felt?” he snaps.

“What? You were the one acting like a jerk. You knew where I was. I told Natalie to tell you what was going on.” He doesn’t respond and you feel a wave of frustration wash over you as you realize something.

 You fully turn to him, arms crossed, and head cocked to one side. "I also left a note on the fridge. Did you remember to check there?” you ask, brow raised. He doesn’t answer, but judging by the look on his face, you can tell he didn’t. Now it’s your turn to scoff.

“How many times do I have to remind you to check there before you leave?” You shake your head. This isn't the first time he's shown up when he didn't need to. You remind him constantly to check, but it doesn't seem to make a difference.

“You know, maybe I'll start leaving my own notes. I'll be sure to let you know whenever I'm going out on a date with another woman," he snidely remarks.

You let out a dry laugh. You just can’t believe how ridiculous he’s being. He's acted jealous before, but it's usually just an excuse for him to get you into bed, show you you're 'his'. But this time it seems genuine.

“It wasn’t a date! He’s a new hire and I was asked to welcome him to the office. It was purely professional. You have no reason to be upset,” you respond.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, like he was planning on having you for dessert. I bet he was acting like that all night. That prick has no shame," Marc grumbles, but you just shake your head. "You're imagining things," you respond annoyedly, and he huffs.

You spend the rest of the ride in silence as you mentally prepare yourself for a night of sitting on opposite sides of the couch waiting to see who apologizes first. But by the time you pull into the apartment, your irritation has started to dwindle, and you realize you're really not in the mood to fight, so you decide to set the issue aside for now and revisit it when he's calmed down a bit.

You step through the door, set your stuff down, and turn to him. "I know you're upset, but why don’t we just talk about this later? Let's have a nice, quiet night snuggled up on the couch. How's that sound?" you suggest, then pull him to you and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

He hums against your mouth, then pulls away. Leaning his forehead against yours, he mumbles, “I don’t know, maybe I should go spend a few hours with some random woman you don't know, since that’s apparently how this relationship works now.” You scoff and shove him away.

“Just let it go! You know what? Maybe I should’ve gone home with Scott. It'd be nice to be around someone who knows how to act like an adult. I bet he at least has the awareness to see when he's wrong and get on his knees to apologize.” You know it's a bad idea to mention Scott's name again, and an even stupider idea to mention going home with him, but you’re so frustrated you don’t care how Marc might react. If he's going to be petty, so are you.

You turn around to head to the living room, wanting to give him a second to calm down, maybe come to the realization that he’s being ridiculous. To think he would let your little comment slide was stupid of you, and you realize that when you feel him whip you around and press you up against the wall. You know you shouldn't keep egging him on, but you really want to mess with him to get back at him for how he's been acting. So, against your better judgement, you continue.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," you say softly and pull him closer, eyes now boring into each other's.

"I wouldn't go home with him. Why go to the trouble? What I should’ve done was pulled him into the bathroom, spread my legs for him and given him a nice warm welcome to the team,” you say, tauntingly.

You see his eye twitch slightly and he takes a deep breath, probably trying to keep his cool. By now you'd have expected to see that playful smirk on his face that means he's about to take you to the bedroom and shut you up, but he just continues to stare at you. Your goal isn't to genuinely upset him, so to avoid provoking him any further, you wipe the smirk off your face and look at him with wide eyes and small pout on your lips instead. 

“I want Steven,” you whine. Since it doesn't seem like Marc's going to let this go anytime soon, you're ready for Steven to come out. Ready for him to tell you he agrees that Marc is being ridiculous and apologize on his behalf, by way of shoving his face between your thighs, preferably.

He's never able to resist, especially when you ask for him like that, so you stare up expecting to see those soft eyes and that warm smile appear. Marc doesn’t waiver, though, and you think maybe he's blocking Steven out, determined to remain in control.

Marc cocks his head and asks, “You want Steven? Yeah?”, in mocking tone. 

“Why? So he can come out and spoil you? Let you keep acting like a brat?” That’s exactly what you want, and he knows it, so you can’t help the small smirk that reappears on your face.

“I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Why do you think he’s stayed silent this whole time?” You raised a confused brow, and now he’s the one wearing a smirk.

"You really want Steven?" he asks, and you nod your head at him slowly.

  "Fine. But you’re going to regret it.” And with that, his eyes close then reopen and his smirk is replaced with a fierce glower, a look so unlike Steven, you think it may still be Marc. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you also feel your insides clench. You don't know if you should be startled or turned on, so you choose both.

 “Steven?” you barely squeak out.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asks, derisively. His hand comes up and grips the back of your neck and he pulls you close. Your breath hitches at the closeness of your lips.

“What? Did you expect me to come out and beg for forgiveness for Marc and then get on my knees for you like a good boy? Let you walk all over me like I usually do?" he snaps.

 While you're definitely the more dominant one when it comes to the two of you, there have been a few occasions he has tried to take control. But he's never gotten very far because Marc always steps in and takes over. You’re momentarily worried Steven holds some resentment for the dynamic you two have, but the way he’s licking his lips as he stares at yours, or rather the hardness you feel against your leg, makes you realize he's just finally ready to unleash this other side of him.

Now that you understand what he wants to do, you feel the ache between your thighs intensifying. Wanting to see what he has in store for you, you decide to test what will happen if you try pushing his buttons like you were doing with Marc only moments ago.

“Of course. That’s what your best at, isn't it? You think you can teach me a lesson like Marc?" scoff. "You don’t have it in you,” As you taunt him you wear a smug look on your face that he's very tempted to fuck off of you.

His eyes darken, then he looks off to the side, and there's no doubt Marc is talking to him; you assume either urging him to take action or demanding to step in and do it himself. You attempt to bring his attention back to you.

“It takes a real man to put me in my place. Like Marc. Or Scott.” And with that he’s pulling you from the wall and pushing you to the room.

He tosses you face first into the mattress and grips the top of your pants. Before he goes any further, though, he’s brushing the hair away from your face and you crane your neck further to look at him. His voice softens and he asks, “This is ok, right? If not, I'll stop, so please tell me.”

You give him a small smile and push your ass back, grinding it against him. “I want it so bad, Steven. Give it to me, hard. Please.”

He sighs, relieved to know he didn’t misinterpret the situation. Also, hearing you plead like that, a tone usually reserved for Marc, sends a rush through him. And then just like that, the gentleness is gone and he’s pulling your pants down and off of you, then tossing them across the room. He settles his hand on the small of your back and leans down to admire the wet patch left behind on your underwear.

He smirks, “This all for me? I do this to you?”

You’re about to give him a desperate, ‘yes’, but before you can, he pulls the fabric up taught, and it wedges deliciously between your folds. You gasp in surprise but follow it with a moan.

“Or is it from Scott?” he says and pulls your underwear side to side, and it swipes over your clit each time. You squirm against the mattress, loving the feeling. You don’t answer him, so he tugs upward on your underwear and, at the same time, lands a quick but firm slap against your ass. You squeal. You continue to ignore his questions in hopes that he’ll do it again. 

This time he gives you a harder slap, and does it again and again until, through gritted teeth, you moan out, “No, for you. All for you.”

He hums in acknowledgment then roams your sensitive skin with his fingers and gives your plush cheek a firm squeeze. You whine at the delicious burn.

Deciding to give your ass a break, he tears your underwear off and flips you over. After ridding you of the rest of your clothes as well, he spreads your legs and settles himself between them. He examines you and then runs his fingers through your folds, gathering the slick forming at your entrance.

“You really get off on this don’t you? Look at you, you practically dripping just from a few spanks." You feel your skin heat at the comment, and you simply nod your head.

“Just a desperate little thing begging to be used,” he says and continues movements, toying with your entrance and intentionally avoiding your clit. The sensation and the filth flowing from his mouth makes you shudder. You’ve never heard him talk like this and you love it.

Getting a bit impatient with the slow, teasing motion of his fingers, you grumble, “C’mon, Steven,” and grab his wrist to move his hand to the bundle of nerves begging to be played with.

“You know I need more. Give it to me," you demand.

Caught up in the frustration of his teasing, you’ve reverted back to that commanding tone which typically has him happily falling into submission. But now, he's having none of it. He’s finally in control and he’s not letting go, not for you or for Marc. He lands a quick slap to your mound, and you gasp as it sends a bolt of pleasure straight through you. You want more, but before you can ask him to do it again, he squeezes your clit and begins rolling it between his fingers.

"Oh, god Steven!" you squeal and arch your back, prompting him to quicken his movements. The action alone has you on the edge, but before you can cum, he's pulling his hands away. You let out a long, dramatic, whine and open your mouth, ready to complain, but he covers it with his hand.

"No more whining. You'll take what I give you," he says and squeezes your thigh in a harsh grip.

" Thought I was going to let you cum already? Silly little thing, you'll cum when I decide. I'm not done playing with you yet," he says, and you can feel the fresh slick dripping from you in response to his condescending tone.

He removes his hand from your mouth and grabs at your chest while he brings his other hand to your entrance. He slips two fingers in, easily, and you sigh at the relief of finally having something inside you. The delicious sting of him tweaking your nipples combined with the drag of his fingers against your walls quickly brings you to the edge a second time, but all too quickly he's pulling both hands from you and denying you your release once again.

You let out what sounds like a sob and pound your hand against the mattress. You keep getting so close and he rips it away from you every time. The frustration has you on the brink of tears and your lip juts out in a pout. You're not used to this. Marc wasn't lying when he said Steven spoils you. He usually dotes on you and is always more than happy to give you exactly what you want, whenever you want it. He's ready and willing to submit to you and put your pleasure above all else. That's the treatment you're used to. Since you're not accustomed to him denying you pleasure, or anything for that matter, the irritation is written all over your face.

"You’re an asshole. Where’d you learn that from, Marc?” you ask, with more than a little sass in your voice.

Not thrilled with your tone, he undoes his belt and frees himself from his pants, then climbs up your body until his hips are angled towards your face. "I'm getting quite sick of your attitude, love. Let's put that mouth to good use, shall we?" he says as he strokes himself pushing into your mouth. The angle is a bit awkward but the sight of him has your mouth watering and you swirl your tongue around his tip as it breeches your lips.

His head falls back and he sighs. He lets you suck on him just like that for a few moments before he's guiding you further onto his length. He hits the back of your throat, pulling a gag from you, and he feels your throat contract around him. He groans at the feeling and does it again. His thrusts have your spit thoroughly coating his length and even dribbling down your chin. He bites his lip at the sight.

 "C'mon. Get it nice and wet. Yeah, just like that," he says huskily. He throws his head back again and his eyes fall shut. The feeling is heavenly and he has to pull out of your mouth, knowing if you keep sucking him like that, he'll cum down your throat.

He moves down your body, landing between your legs, and you wrap them around his hips. He goes to line himself up at your entrance and you buck your hips and pull him closer. As you feel his dick brush up against you, you let out a pathetic whine, almost delirious with the desire to feel him inside you. He chuckles at your desperation and can't help but tease you further by running his length through your folds.

"You want it? Yeah?" he teases, and slaps his tip against your clit repeatedly. You look at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, and beg, "Don’t tease me.”

"What do you mean?" he asks mockingly as he continues sliding his dick against you. It keeps catching on your entrance over and over, but he still refuses to push it in.

"Why are you being so mean?" you ask, and your voice cracks. The sensation is getting overwhelming and you get the urge to reach down and push him in yourself, but you know he'd never give you what you're asking for if you did that, so you stop yourself.

"What's wrong? I thought you liked it. I've seen you writhe under Marc, begging for him to fuck you. That usually gets you what you want, right? So c'mon, beg for it," he demands, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him right in the eyes.

You're quick to respond, wanting to do exactly as he asks, in hopes that he’ll finally take pity on you. “Please, Steven, I need it so bad. I'll do anything, just please fuck me. Please!"

He feels heat pool in his stomach from hearing you beg for him like that, and he can't hold back any longer. He grabs you firmly by the hips and pushes into you slowly. He groans as he watches his length disappear as you take him to the hilt. “See what you get when you ask nicely?” he says, breathily. Your jaw goes slack and your head falls back at the relief of finally being full of him.

After you've adjusted to his length, he throws your legs over his shoulders, pulls you closer, and leans over you, effectively folding you in half.  The new angle has him reaching so deep in you that you gasp, and it morphs into a broken sob when he begins slamming into you roughly.

He's satisfied at how you're falling apart around him, but he has to focus to keep himself from doing the same thing. The sweet noises you let out with every thrust and how he feels your walls clench around him has his breathing becoming increasingly ragged. He gets lost in the feeling and falters, and his movements slow down. He leans his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth, and whines into your shoulder.

 The change in pace interrupts your previously rapid ascent towards your climax, and you whine right back. "Harder. Please," you beg and reach down and grab his hips, trying to urge him to go faster. He kisses your neck and continues the slow, deep, strokes. It feels good but you need more. You need it harder, faster, and begging is not working, so you opt for the alternative.

 "You're losing your edge, Steven. Maybe I should have Marc come out and do it for you," you threaten. Not appreciating the insinuation that he can't fuck you like Marc can, he snarls and flips you over. He slams back inside you and pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"Oh please. Please. Please…" is all you can say as he resumes hammering into you, and it has you rocketing towards your release again. You become a babbling, whimpering, mess underneath him as he sets a punishing pace, his dick hitting that tender spot inside you relentlessly.

"I need to…to cum Steven. Please. Please can I cum?" you plead, needing to feel the orgasm he's denied you over and over again.

"Considering all the things you said earlier, I'm not sure you deserve it," he replies, yet he wants nothing more than to feel you pulsating around him as you reach tumble over the edge. He's seen Marc deny you for hours so he's tempted to see how far he can push you. But he feels his own release building, so he'll have to try that some other time.

"I do. I've learned my lesson, I promise. I won't-" a particularly deep thrust pulls a throaty moan from you, and you try to remember what you were even saying, but it seems like he fucked the thought right out of your head. All you remember is that you were begging so you try again. “I…Please. I need it so bad. Please let me cum."

"Say you didn’t mean it," he says, followed by a low groan as he slides in and out of your drenched hole. The way you’re gripping him has his hips stuttering, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself.

"Wha…What?" you mumble, not really sure what he's asking.

"Say you'd never let a prick like Scott touch you. Tell me you'd never let him inside you," he commands.

You remain silent, willing yourself to compose a coherent thought. He wants you to look him in the eyes when you say it so he pulls out, puts you on your back, and slams himself back inside you in one quick motion. It has your head spinning and you can't do anything but moan and whimper as you feel him stretching you.

"Say it!" he demands harshly, and the tone has you clenching hard around him. He tilts your head by the back of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eyes, and grabs at your chest harshly with the other.

“I wouldn’t let Scott fuck me. Ever. I don’t want anyone else,” you pant.

" And why is that?" he prompts.

"Because I'm yours," you profess. "All yours. No one else can have me."

 "That's right." A small smirk forming on his face at your confession. “Who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

“You,” you reply, breathily.

“Who?"

“You…” He keeps asking until you finally realize what he wants to hear.

 “You, Steven! Only you can fuck me like this!" you cry out, and in return he lets out a low moan as your words wash over him. It makes him fuck you deeper, so you continue.

"I’d let you do anything you want to me. Anything…anything…anything…” you repeat like a mantra as he continues snapping his hips into you.

His eyes briefly flutter shut as coil in his stomach tightens. He looks at you again and brings his thumb to your clit, forming small circles that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You can cum. C'mon, cum for me," he commands and as the last word leaves his mouth, your orgasm hits you full force. Your body stiffens under him as you let out a silent scream and drag your nails down his back, feeling the shockwaves pleasure rip through you. He lets out a long groan at the sensation of you clenching down on his dick and your nails dragging across his skin. It pushes him over the edge and he lets out an animalistic grunt spills himself inside you. He's above you, panting, as he continues grinding into you until he's empty.

After a moment or two, he collapses on top of you. You two lay like that as you both steady your breathing and attempt to come down from such an intense high.

 As you run your fingers through his hair, you hear him mumble, “I still like being your plaything. You know that, right?" into your neck and you chuckle. “Just like wanted to see what it was like taking control," he adds as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. You pull his lips to yours and give him a quick, yet searing kiss.

 “Of course I do, baby," you respond, lovingly.

“I do have a request, though. Next time you want to try something new, can you make sure it doesn’t involve acting like an irrational jerk and scaring my coworkers?” The request is more so intended for Marc, seeing as he was the one intimidating Scott earlier, but Steven responds.

“Sorry about all that. I just wasn't thrilled about this Scott guy," he confesses. You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised because Steven has never been the jealous type. Now, normally he isn't, but something about seeing you climbing out of some guy's car, skin a bit flushed from whatever drinks you had at dinner, just didn’t sit right with him. Then, when he saw Scott's eyes glued to your ass as you stepped out of the car, something just came over him.

"Marc suggested I learn to let these feelings out in the bedroom like you two usually do and I guess that was his way of stepping in and helping me do that. I did warn him to tone it down, I promise, but you know Marc…" he says, looking at you apologetically.

“Don’t worry, I'll make him pay for it later," you say, smiling at the thought.

“We can make him pay for it now by going for round two. He’s been begging me to let him out. Says he's dying to get his hands on you.” He grins at the idea of you denying an already incredibly frustrated Marc what he wants.

"Tell him not a chance," you say as you roll both of you over and straddle Steven. He feels a thrill run through body as he already knows he'll be the begging, pleading, mess this time.

Love You to the Moon and Back

Pairing: Moonknight System x Gn!Reader

Summary: The Boys are away for Valentine's day but they make sure to leave behind some thoughtful gifts to show you how much you mean to them.

Warnings: just fluff and a brief mention of the boys touching reader's butt at the very end (Just couldn't help myself)

WC: 1.2k

A/N: thought I'd try writing some fluff with valentines day around the corner. Enjoy :))

You awaken to a cold, empty left side of the bed. You rub your hand over the indent left behind and sigh. Being apart was hard enough, but on Valentine's Day especially, their absence was glaringly obvious. You knew they'd be gone, but it didn't stop a wave of loneliness from washing over you. You had spent the previous evening together, knowing they'd be gone for the actual day. You had worked late, so you only really had a few hours to cuddle on the couch and fool around a bit before you had to head to bed. You agreed to celebrate properly when they get back, but you don't want to endure the wait. All you want to do is wrap them in your arms and spend the day in bed.

Before the melancholy can completely consume you, your nostrils are filled with the scent of freshly made breakfast. You get up and make your way into the kitchen and are immediately taken aback at the sight. The counter is covered with an assortment of all your favorite breakfast foods. The quantity is impressive, and it looks like a little buffet.  Alongside the food there is a note that reads, 'Enjoy!' and informs you of fully prepped lunch and dinner in the fridge. You immediately know it's Jake's doing. He takes care of you in so many ways but keeping you well fed has to be his favorite.

 At the center of the counter, you notice a beautiful white orchid. You smile. That was surely from him as well. You had mentioned your interest in getting one a while back and his eyes lit up. He’s a plant dad through and through and he's been sharing his hobby with you, showing you how to nurture and care for a variety of plants. It initially piqued your interest just seeing how committed he is to them. His gentleness and attentiveness when it came to his beloved flora warms your heart. You noticed it mirrors his care and devotion for you.

 As your eyes scan the various plates down the counter, they land on a pink heart shaped cloche. You lift it to reveal a Swiss roll with hearts decorating the outside. This, you know, is from Steven. He knows you enjoy baking and he had asked you a while back to give him lessons. Now every time you step into the kitchen, he’s at your heels, soaking in all the knowledge you can offer. You’re quite impressed with his roll, something you didn't teach him, so you know he went out of his way to learn by himself. The thought of him venturing out on his own to learn how to do it widens the smile on your face.

 Alongside his treat, he also got you a teddy bear. The little name tag on the ribbon reads, 'Little Steven' and you giggle. Every time they come home you always mention to him how much you miss his cuddles and how you resort to snuggling up with their pillow as a substitute. You cherish that sort of physical intimacy with all of them but especially with Steven. Sometimes he'll read to you, or you'll just chat about anything and everything. Other times you just lay there in silence, completely enveloped in the warmth and love of one another. It’s a time for connection and to be present with each other. It brings you closer together not just physically, but emotionally and it's hard to go without it for extended periods of time. So, he decided to gift you something as a sort of place holder to snuggle up with until he can get back to you.

 As you reach the end of the counter, you notice Marc hadn't contributed to the buffet, but that comes as no surprise. Marc is a disaster in the kitchen. Whether it's cooking or baking, or even making a cup of coffee, he's completely clueless. Just last week he tried to make you Ramen and almost burned down the house. Although there is no treat from him, what he left you was better than anything you could have asked for. He wrote you a letter, expressing his love for you. He talks about how you hold a very special place in his life and his heart and how he is grateful for you every day. The note itself was touching and it made you tear up, but the gesture meant just as much. He had been the hardest nut to crack amongst all three of them. Jake was quicker than him to open up, which surprised you.

Marc had been very closed off, emotionally, but you understood. You had been very patient with him, not wanting to pressure him and push him away. So, you were determined to let him go at his own pace. This eventually started taking a bit of a toll on your relationship and you voiced that concern to him. Your gentleness and understanding was enough for him to feel comfortable to start to make the effort. He speaks about this in his letter, saying you help him be more in touch with his feelings and not just shoving them deep down inside and shutting everyone out.

 Through your tears you start to chuckle as you eye the homemade “coupons” that accompanied his letter. They ranged from offering a massage, a cuddle session, trip to the farmers market, picnics, and a few other sweet offers. These are all things he would more than happily do with you anytime you asked but the gesture was appreciated.

 As you go to grab a plate, your eye lands on a small black box that sits next to the teddy bear and orchid. Feeling like you already got more than you could've hoped for, you reach for the box hesitantly. You can tell it's jewelry, which isn’t your typical type of gift. You prefer just spending quality time with your boys. When you open the box, you let out a small gasp. It is a simple but beautifully delicate moon pendant on a thin gold chain. The box is engraved with, “To the moon and back”. Tears, yet again, threaten to spill from your eyes. You immediately put it on, and you feel so full of love, even in their absence.

 As you begin eating, you open the card they got you. It had a sweet inscription, “Sorry we can’t be here to shower you with love like you deserve, but we’ll make it up to you when we return.” It's very sweet but what catches your eye is what's written on the bottom of the card. The boys left their own personal 'P.S' and you giggle as you read each one.

P.S. “give that cute butt a squeeze for me” -Steven

P.S.S “and a slap from me"- Marc

P.S.S "and a bite from me…oh wait…guess I'll just have to do it myself *wink*”-Jake

 You’re still missing them terribly, but you’re grateful to have their sweet words and gestures to keep your heart full until they come home.

No One Compares

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!reader

Summary: You're going to a party where Steven knows someone who has a crush on you will also be attending. Before you go, he wants to remind you what you have waiting for you at home.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, oral(f) receiving, possessive thoughts/ behavior, fingering, praise, biting (Let me know if I missed anything :))

Word Count: 1.6 k

A/N: This popped into my head the other night and I needed to purge it from my system. Still getting a feel for this whole writing thing and feedback is more than welcome!!

Steven paces back and forth in front of the bathroom door, planning his next move carefully. You’re about to go out for your friend’s birthday dinner and he normally has no problem with you going out, except that he knows he’ll miss you and be a needy mess until you get back. But tonight, you’re going to your best friend Tasha's birthday dinner. He loves all your friends but there is one person he does not want you around. Tasha's brother, Jackson.

You've been friends with Tasha since you were little, and she's like a sister to you. Her brother Jackson had a small crush on you growing up and it seems his feelings have continued into adulthood. You never minded his advances, considering he never made any moves beyond harmless flirting, but what did bother you was that he didn’t back off even when you informed him you were in a relationship. He’s tame when it’s just you but when Steven is there, he turns his antics up to one hundred. It can be annoying, but you don't want to run and tattle on him to Tasha about her brother's little crush. You don't want to cause any problems, and since he never actually attempts to make a move on you, you've decided to just suck it up and deal with it, not wanting to create a big fuss.

As he stands in the hallway, Steven's mind floods with the memories of all the times Jackson has tried to make a pass at you right in front of him and he decides he needs to take action. With a huff, Steven storms into the bathroom and wraps his arm around your waist. You had just set everything out to start getting ready, and you greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

You think he will leave you be when he notices you are about to start doing your makeup, but instead he brings his hands up to your chest, grabbing both breasts and he pulls you flush against his chest. He starts kissing up and down your neck and you try to wriggle out of his grasp, knowing if you put this off any longer you are going to be late.

"Steven, what's gotten into you?" you ask, although you already know. He always gets like this when you have somewhere to go, trying to get you to stay home and hop into bed with him instead. You think he's just being needy as usual, but you have no idea this has anything to do with Jackson. Yes, you know it makes him uncomfortable when he's around, but the first time he saw how Jackson acted around you, you explained how it would cause more problems to address and was best to just try to ignore it. He accepted, understanding how you didn’t want to jeopardize your relationship with Tasha.

Your boyfriend knows you would never do anything with Jackson. You're loyal and loving and he trusts you more than anyone on Earth, and he knows you would never betray him. He also knows that you didn't actually like Jackson, but sometimes you would play along, flirting back with him a bit to try and keep things from being awkward. Steven knows it’s all fake, but even seeing you feign interest in that guy made him want to lay you down and fuck you so good you forget that any other man even exists.

He decides here and now that he needs to make sure you remember what you have waiting at home for you. He needs to be quick, though, because he doesn't want to send you to the party all hot and bothered. He knows you only ever entertain Jackson to keep the peace, but he can't help the possessive voice in the back of his head telling him he needs to show you that your boyfriend can make you feel better than anyone ever could.

"Steven I'm serious, I can't be late." He ignores you, already sliding your tight dress over your thighs and settling it on your waist. He falls to his knees, planting kisses and soft bites across your ass. He crawls under you to now face your panty covered center. You try to push him away, but he swats your hand and takes off your underwear. Loving the sight of him on his knees for you, you decide you are going to let him continue. On one condition.

"You have to be done by the time I finish my make up. Don't want to send me to dinner all worked up, do you?" you tease. Hell no. He can't let Jackson see you like that. Maybe it would leave you tempted to flirt back, just to blow off some steam. He pulls your leg over his shoulder and shoves his face between your legs.

He wastes no time teasing you, no licking up your folds, no soft kisses to your thighs. He zeros in on your clit, sucking and lapping at it like a madman. You try to steady yourself, picking up your makeup and starting to slowly apply it, keeping your hands as still as possible to avoid making a mess. You struggle to keep your eyes open as they threaten to roll back into your head, the pleasure starting to distract you from the task at hand. You start to grind your hips into his mouth and use one hand to grip the counter. You're surprised you don't fall over, but his strong grip on your thigh and ass keeps you upright. He circles your clit, and flicks his tongue back and forth, just how he knows you like it.

"Fuck Steven, you're so good at that. So fucking good." you say in that low, breathy voice that never fails to turn him on. Spurred on by your praise, his movements become more frantic, and you squeal and start panting above him.

You feel that you're right on the edge, but you pull him away, earning a frustrated grunt from him as he can tell you’re close too. You explain you have to do your eyeliner and really don’t want to blind yourself. While you do that, he starts nipping at your thighs impatiently. He had you right there, you were so close and now he’d have to build it back up. Usually, he’d go crazy about the idea of edging you, but time is of the essence.

You finish and he’s back on you in an instant. Your breathing quickly becomes ragged and you take a moment to look yourself over in the mirror. Your makeup doesn’t look terrible, just a little rushed. All that’s left is your lipstick. You take a minute to examine your lips in your reflection and you see how swollen and full they are from how you’ve been biting them. It should make the color you chose really pop. You silently thank Steven for this by reaching down to run your fingers through his curls. He gives you an appreciative whine and starts sucking harder at your sensitive bud.

You take a few deep breaths and steady your hand as best as you can as you place the applicator onto your lips. Of course, you feel that familiar tightness in your stomach and you know you're about to cum. He hears your desperate moans, and he can tell too. He slips two fingers into you and starts rubbing against that tender spot he knows drives you crazy and you cry out as you clamp down onto his fingers. The surprise intrusion causes your hand to slip and your wrist swipes across your lips, smearing the lipstick onto the corner of your mouth and your chin. You groan in frustration as the waves of pleasure rip through you and you clench down onto his fingers.

Knowing he accomplished his goal, Steven slows his movements and pulls his fingers from your dripping entrance. He wears a proud look on his face and moves his gaze to your arousal that coats his hand. He licks it off eagerly, making sure to clean up your mess. The previous frenzied nature of his touch quickly turns tender as he drags his hands up and down your sides and along your ass and thighs. He cleans you up a bit with his tongue but decides to forgo the washcloth he usually uses. He wants to send you to the party with a reminder of how he made you feel tonight.

He stands, sliding your underwear back on. You’re still gripping the counter and trying to regain composure as he takes his place back behind you and nuzzles into your neck. He chuckles as he catches a glimpse of you in the mirror. You’re clearly a wreck, but he has to admit you did a fairly good job despite the circumstances. Then, as if some switched has flipped in his brain, he latches onto your neck, making you gasp, and you feel his teeth sink into you. After a minute or so of him sucking at your skin, you feel his tongue run across it, soothing the indents he had left. He smiles, satisfied to have effectively marked his territory, and he starts applying gentle kisses instead. He hopes you don't try to cover it up. He desperately wants Jackson to catch a glimpse. Steven grins at the thought.

"You made me smudge my makeup." you whine. Since you'll have to fix it anyway, you turn your head, pulling his lips to yours. You pull back, and admire the fresh lipstick smeared across his mouth. You're tempted to drag him into the bedroom and mark up his dick with it, but you have to go. You sigh, " But I think I can forgive you. I'll reward you for being such a good boy when I get back, ok?"

Give Me What I want

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!reader

Summary: Steven acts like a brat all day, leading to a much deserved punishment. Left unsatisfied, Steven decides take what he wants.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, no use of y/n, Dom/ Sub dynamics, Brat/Needy Steven, teasing, face-sitting, punishment, dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, cnc (kind of??),unprotected p in v, creampie (Let me know if I missed anything :))

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Not only is this the first piece of smut I've ever written but also my first try at writing a fic in general so I would love some feedback. I definitely need some more practice but I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoy it as well :)

There are so many things about Steven that you admire. His intelligence, his kindness, his generosity, how passionate he is. The list goes on forever, but there is one trait that Steven does not possess, however, and that is patience. He doesn't have it in his everyday life, and he seriously struggles with it in the bedroom. On days when Steven is really needy, and he can't have you or you make him wait, he becomes like a whiny child, pushing your buttons until he gets what he wants.

Today was one of those days. Steven was having a rough day at work and all he wanted was to see you and he couldn't. So, when he came home, he was already in a funk, immediately grabbing at you and demanding your full attention. Unfortunately, you had an appointment you absolutely could not miss. But you assured him that once you got home you would take care of him, knowing his day left him stressed and in need of some love.

This offer did little to quell his frustration and he begged you to let him come with. You explained to him that he would be bored out of his mind and that it'd be better for him to stay here and distract himself, but he wouldn't listen. So, the entire car ride there he was trying to grab at you, complaining about not being close enough and when you scolded him, he would huff and pout, then quickly resume his antics. He didn't stop even after you had both returned home and were eating the takeout you grabbed on your way back.

"Stop it Steven, I'm serious. Let me eat. I know you haven't eaten today either so please, finish your food."

And he gives you that look that he is constantly giving you, his eyes glaring and his lips pouting. It's usually endearing but you had reached the end of your rope with him today and were starting to get annoyed.

"What are you, my mother?" he mumbles as he looks back down at his plate. You're not sure if he meant for you to hear that but you definitely did.

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, I'm not hungry. You know what I want. Now give it to me." He adds a quick 'please' after he sees the look on your face.

He knows he's pushing his luck, but he hopes you'll understand his situation and let it slide. But you had had enough. He had been whining and complaining all evening and gave you attitude each time you called him out on it. You had planned to spend the evening taking care of him, showering him with love and affection while you you ride him until he can't think straight, the way you know always helps him relax, but now you've decided he needs to learn to control himself.

" You need an attitude adjustment. Clean up the plates and go lay on the bed." You toss your fork down and head into the bedroom. He knows what's coming so he drags on in the kitchen, slamming the dishes in the sink and basically throwing a fit. Once he enters, knowing what you expected from him, he takes off his clothes and lays down. You slide the rope onto each of his wrists and tie them individually to each bed post. You do the same to his ankles. You sit in front him on the bed, having discarded your clothes as well.

"You need to learn some patience. I was going to be so sweet to you tonight. What a shame." You drag your nails softly up his thighs and continue up his stomach, not even coming close to his hardening member. He huffs, having already reached his limit and his frustration was becoming overwhelming. If you look close enough you could almost see some tears welling in his eyes. He wants so badly to feel the warmth of your hand squeeze him and relieve the ache between his legs. But you continue your slow, feather light touches up and down his body, avoiding his favorite areas on purpose.

You hadn't even given him a kiss yet. As your face hovers over his, pulling back as he tries to chase your lips, a growl emanates from deep within his chest.

" I've held on long enough. Give it to me." He demanded. No 'please' this time, in fact no pleading in his voice at all. This was supposed to be a punishment for the attitude he was giving you earlier and he clearly hadn't fixed it.

"Tsk tsk tsk…that mouth of yours. I'm tired of hearing it." You climb up him, moving to hover over his face.

"Let's put it to good use." As you go to lower yourself onto his mouth you hear, "Took you long enough…" mumbled from beneath you, his warm breath fanning over your thighs.

Even now he still wants to talk back. An idea pops into your head and you quickly turn around so you're facing the other way. Before he can ask what you're doing, you drop yourself down onto his mouth, muffling him. You let out a satisfied sigh.

"Finally, found a way to shut you up." You slowly start to grind against his mouth, loving the fact that he went right for your clit. You feel him hum against you, sending a vibration straight to your core. He pulls on his restraints, wanting desperately to touch you. No way in hell was that happening, not after everything he's done. He's lucky you don't just leave him tied to the bed to suffer with nothing.

You decide this isn't punishment enough, he's clearly enjoying it, seeing as he's still hard. You lean forward and he grunts, assuming you're going to take him in your mouth. Instead, you dig your nails into his thighs and spit right on his dick. Hard and fast. He groans into you, and you do it again, this time letting it fall onto his tip slowly and it dribbles down onto his stomach.

He starts lapping at you faster, making you whimper as you grow closer to your release. He bucks his hips up into the air as much as he can with his ankles tied down, silently begging for any sort of stimulation. You alternate between scratching and biting around his thighs and lower stomach, making sure to reach everywhere except the one place Steven wants most.

Just as you're about to cum, you pull yourself fully upright grabbing onto his hair, riding his face through the waves of pleasure. Then, too soon for Steven's liking, you lift off him and make your way around the bed and untie him.

"You can finish yourself off." you say without even looking back at him and head to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth to clean him off when he's finished.

You hear nothing but the sound of running water, finding it a bit odd with the absence of his usual desperate whimpers and moans. Fixing your hair in the mirror, you turn to leave and head back to the bedroom. But just as you enter the hall, you feel a body push you hard against the wall, holding you by the shoulders. You let out a startled gasp as you look up and see Steven with a feral look in his eyes.

"That wasn't very nice." He snarls, eyes going back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

"You were misbehaving all day, Steven. You needed to be punished. Now let me go or I'll bend you over the bed and spank your ass raw." You threaten, although your ragged breathing drowns out the edge to your voice that you're trying to maintain.

"You're going to give me what I want." he says with such a sense of entitlement that you curse yourself for getting turned on by it.

You don't respond, deciding you're going to let him take it. You guys had sat down to talk a while ago and decided to implement a sort of 'take what you want when you want' agreement. Up until now, Steven had avoided taking advantage of it when you were in a more dominant mood, knowing him making a move on you or touching without permission almost always ended in a punishment. But for whatever reason Steven decides in this moment he simply doesn't care. He wants to be inside you so he's going to, despite what consequences he may face later. You also both have a safe word, so you know that the second you said it he'd immediately back off.

But you had no intention of using it. As much as his attitude and disobedience could sometimes frustrate you, the way he's acting right now has your cunt dripping wet. You don't let it show on your face though, still wanting him to know he's breaking the rules, but he takes your silence as a go ahead. He flips you around and presses your chest up against the wall as he holds you close to him, pushing himself inside you in one quick motion.

He slips in easily and starts rocking back and forth, thrusts already sloppy from how worked up you got him earlier. He grunts into your ear, and his shoulders relax at the relief he's been waiting for all day. You let out some wanton moans of your own but try to suppress them the best you can. You want Steven to know that he has made the conscious decision to make this about him and his carnal needs only. It's hard though, as the thought of him using you to get off stokes the fire in the pit of your stomach.

You start to feel your legs weaken underneath you. He notices, and pulls you away from the wall and drags you to the floor. With his chest is flush to your back, he grinds into you with short but incredibly deep thrusts. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and he whines into your shoulder.

"God, you're so warm. I was thinking about this all day. Having to excuse myself multiple times just to try and get myself under control. Didn't want people to know how worked up I was just at the thought of you." He licks a strip up your neck, savoring the taste of you.

"I swear, there were points in the day I even thought I smelled you. That sweet scent you give off seems stuck in my brain, love. It made me lightheaded, didn't hear a single thing anyone was saying to me." His face remains cradled in your neck as he takes deep breaths in, finally getting a whiff of the real thing. As he takes you all in, he's invading your senses as well, making it impossible to silence your grunts and moans anymore. Your breathing has become uneven and each thrust punches a small whimper out of you.

"Fuck, I'm so close, love." He feels each time you squeeze around him, making it hard for him to hold on any longer.

He tries chasing his release, but he's missing your usual words of praise. There is no 'Good boy' or 'you're doing so well for me Steven' which usually leads to his undoing.

You sense this, but instead of giving it to him you turn your head and yank his hair. Now face to face, you grunt, "You think you can just take whatever you want? You're such a desperate whore. Can't even take your punishment without complaint, selfish brat. You're a bad boy, Steven. A bad boy." Your words are followed by a sharp inhale as you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap.

Your degrading words and the pressure of you tugging on his curls launches him over the edge. His movements become frantic, and he moans into your ear with a sob, spilling into you. He feels incredibly deep at this angle and the desperation in his movements brings you to your release.

You clench down hard onto him. His moans turn to whines from the overstimulation, but he waited so long for this he doesn’t want to stop. So, he lays there on top of you, jolting into you every so often as you both experience the aftershocks of your peaks.

When he finally pulls out, and you both sigh. He leans back on his haunches, still trying to steady his breathing. Once you recover, you turn to face him as a small smile appears on his face. He thanks you over and over, clearly thinking that he had received a proper punishment and that he was in the clear. He crawls over to you, and you pull him in, planting a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back quickly and standing up, much to his dismay.

"I hope you enjoyed it, because you're not touching me for a week. Not after that little charade." His face falls, and you smirk, hopefully that will teach him a lesson. Although you had thoroughly enjoyed it, he still disobeyed you. And to be honest, you wouldn't mind seeing him that desperate for you again.

Leaving him speechless, you head to the bathroom to draw him a bath.

FOR SCIENCE | the project proposal

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x afab!psychologist!reader (3.2k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: descriptions of mental illness, depictions of DID, fetishization of mental disorders (DID), potentially unethical scientific practices, no smut in this part NOTES: again, please don’t read this if you’re concerned at all with research ethics, as this is NOT a good demonstration of scientific procedures and studies. DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

next part →

Marc Spector’s psyche was a psychologist’s wet dream.

Three distinct personalities, completely separated from each other, all occupying the same host body. At one point, all mutually unaware of the others, but now living together in solidarity and (relative) cooperation.

Meeting Marc Spector was a happy accident—but meeting a man with a clearcut case of Dissociative Identity Disorder as a Professor of Psychology? Now that was just pure, dumb luck.

You had met Steven Grant first. You’d run into him at the British Museum during a university-sponsored visit. Your interaction had been brief, but it was memorable for you nonetheless—there was just something about those soft brown eyes and dopey, shy smile that melted your heart.

Imagine your surprise when you accidentally ran into that same man on the bus, only for him to introduce himself as Marc with a midwestern American accent and a cold, calculated gleam in his stare. He was forward and confident—very much unlike your previous encounter with him. When you called his bluff and swore you’d interacted with him under the guise of Steven, he pulled you aside and gently tried to justify the confusion.

“It’s—I have this...condition. It’s—have you ever heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?”

You had tried hard to fight your smile.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with it.”

It was only revealed to him—after his winded and lengthy explanation—that you had a doctorate degree in clinical psychology and specialized in mental disorders.

Steven’s curiosity was piqued, and Marc silently hoped you’d be able to shed some insight into the functioning of his fragmented mind. You quickly established an easy friendship, somewhat reminiscent of a relationship between a client and therapist—although you knew and cared for each other on a much deeper and more intimate level.

Several months later, you were finally introduced to the most elusive alter within the system—Jake Lockley.

You began to spend the majority of your free time with the men—all three of them seemed to be relatively taken with you. Steven was sweet, Marc was shrewd, and Jake was steadfast. It was sometimes difficult to conceptualize that they all shared the same physical body with how differently they behaved.

It hadn’t started as a project—genuinely, truly, it hadn’t. It wasn’t your intention to be so captivated by those big brown puppy-dog eyes or the softness within his smile. And the feelings you had for him—for all of them—were real, and raw, and indisputable. You would never, ever, ever do anything to make them feel uncomfortable or jeopardize your relationships in any way.

Which is why this was such a bad fucking idea.

Your nails drummed against the side of your porcelain coffee mug as your nervously chewed on the cap of your red pen, making a futile attempt to focus on grading the research report in front of you, but your attention was clearly elsewhere. Your eyes kept darting to the clock on the wall across from you, watching the second hand tick away slowly. The coffee shop was playing gentle soothing acoustic songs, the smell of cinnamon lingering in the air, but even the coziness wasn’t enough to shake your nerves.

“Hey, there, Doc.”

Your head perked at the sound of a familiar voice, a warming hand clapping your shoulder as Marc Spector walked to the other side of the small table and sat down across from you. You groaned at his greeting, pulling your reading glasses from your nose and setting them on the table in front of you.

“Marc, I swear, if you call me that one more time, I’ll—”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, although he was smirking slyly at you.

“Alright, alright, jeez—what’s got you wound up so tight, huh?”

He reached for the paper on top of the stack in front of you, reading off the title aloud.

“An In-depth Investigation Into the Underlying Psychological Causes of Erectile Dysfunction in Men Under 50.”

His face contorted in a look of disgust.

“Jesus—that’s gotta be the most boring fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard.”

You watched as his eyes fluttered briefly, his posture sinking and his features softening. When his eyes regained focus, he shook his head, huffing.

“Bugger off, Marc—I think it sounds plenty interestin’.”

Steven smiled graciously, offering the packet back to you. You accepted it tiredly, throwing it atop the pile of what seemed like an endless supply of mediocre student submissions that had yet to be graded.

“Thanks, Steven, but Marc’s right—my brain’s fried. I swear, if I have to read another shitty case study about men whose dicks don’t work, I’ll gouge my eyes out.”

The man chuckled at your confession as you shoved the stack of papers into your briefcase clumsily, snapping it shut without a second thought and letting it fall back to the floor beside your table. You carefully picked up your mug and took a long, slow sip—your coffee was barely lukewarm, at this point, as you’d be sitting at the cafe for hours, working quietly as you patiently waited on your friend’s arrival.

Although Steven was blissfully oblivious, Marc was observant. His consciousness pushed to the front, studying you carefully—your white-knuckled grip against your cup, your shifty eyes that were looking everywhere but at him, the tension in your shoulders and nervous bouncing of your leg.

“Alright—what’s wrong?”

Your gaze snapped over to him where he was sat with arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in suspicion. You tried to force a smile in an effort to cover up your uncertainty.

“Nothing’s wrong, Marc. Promise.”

You held his gaze intently, trying to convince him with your half-hearted response. His stare didn't waver, and after a few brief moments, you had to look down, overwhelmed with the intensity of his scrutiny.

“Alright, let’s try that again. Y/N—what’s wrong?”

You let a long, exasperated sigh, running a tired hand down your face. This had been weighing on you for a few days, at this point, and you still weren’t sure if you could handle the emotional labor this conversation would require.

“It’s true, nothing’s—nothing’s wrong, per se, I just—I just need to talk to you. I’ve—I have this idea—”

“Like—a work-related, science-y idea? You want Steven? Or—I can try my best to help, but sometimes you get excited and start talking really fast and I can’t keep up, but—”

“No, Marc, it’s not—I mean, it’s not really science-y, but like, also—it kinda is? I don’t know how to explain it, but I really need to—”

“I mean, whatever it is, you seem pretty worried about it, so obviously it’s important, and—and I just wanna make sure we’re giving you whatever response you need, or, at least—”

“Jesus, Marc, if you’d let me finish.”

You clipped, and his jaw snapped shut instantaneously, somewhat taken aback by your outburst. You were normally so controlled, practiced with your expressions, so seeing any sign of emotional imbalance was startling.

Guilt immediately flooded your stomach after you lashed out—you buried your head in your hands, taking a few slow, deliberate breaths in an attempt to quell your rapid heartbeat.

“Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean—this is just... I’m not sure how to go about this.”

You felt the featherlight brush of calloused fingertips against your forearm, coaxing your face away from your palms. When you finally lifted your head, Steven had returned, his eyes soft and reassuring. He pulled your hand into his, squeezing briefly before rubbing his thumb comfortingly across your knuckles.

“S’alright, love, truly. Take as much time as you need, and—and if there’s anythin’ you need from us, it’s yours. Just—whenever you’re ready.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies flitting in your stomach at Steven’s gentle promise. You inhaled once more, before finding his eyes.

“This—I need to talk to all three of you. Can you—are you in a place where you can all be co-conscious?”

Steven’s lips turned up at the corners at your thoughtfulness. He received verbal responses from both Marc and Jake—a confirmation that they were both actively listening.

“’Course. We’re all here. Is—do you have a preference, as to who you’d like to speak with?”

You returned his smile, offering a slight squeeze to his hand.

“I mean—since you’re already fronting, might as well stay, huh?”

Steven blushed, trying to fight the giddiness that came from your validation. He quickly steeled himself, reminding himself that you were struggling to open up to him.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, then, yeah?”

You cautiously pulled your hand away from his, mostly to keep yourself grounded and get out what you needed before you second-guessed yourself.

“So.”

You cautiously began.

“I had this—this idea. And it’s—it sounds crazy, and I get that, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, especially because—well, I just feel like this is something that could have damning effects on the entire field of psychology, with both practical and theoretical applications, but—that doesn’t mean—I don’t want you to feel obligated by any means to agree, or—or to feel pressured into anything, and I definitely don’t want you to think that—that I’m using you, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth, I swear, and—”

“Y/N.”

His tone was soft, a quiet interruption from your rambling, and your eyes widened in concern. However, he offered you a reassuring nod.

“Just tell us what it is, yeah? We’ll go from there.”

You nodded slowly, squeezing your eyes shut, before beginning again.

“There’s this huge debate in psychology. It’s pretty much the basis of a lot of our research—the whole nature versus nurture debate. Basically, it’s all about how much of our personalities can be attributed to genetics versus how much can be attributed to our life experiences.”

Steven was listening intently, leaning forward into your words.

“Well, it’s—it’s a concept that’s really difficult to research, because, well, we don’t really have a basis of comparison. The best thing we have to go off of is when identical twins get separated at birth and grow up in different places. Or, at least—that was the best we’ve had up until this point. Does—does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

He assured, nodding in acknowledgement. You only hoped the other two alters were keeping up.

“So, basically what I’m getting at here, is, well—you, and—and all three of you, really—Marc and Jake, you guys provide a really, really unique opportunity, because, well—you share a body. So, physiologically, you’re completely identical. The only thing that’s different about you is who you are, so—your life experiences and memories and things like that. You’re—you’re like the perfect example of how our experiences shape our beings.”

“Right. Right.”

Steven followed your train of thought carefully, brows furrowed. You took a deep breath. This is the part you were dreading.

“So, I had this thought... you three boys are so vastly different from each other. Like, really, really different, and—and you each have your own preferences, things like that, but—but you still have the same body. In my Abnormal Psych course, we’re studying intimacy and desire right now. So—so what I was wondering was about your—your sexuality. Like, to what extent are your sexual preferences due to your biology rather than your cognition.”

Steven blew out a shaky exhale, though he tried not to appear perturbed by your words. His mind was silent—he could feel the intense focus from his alters, now hanging on your every word.

“What if there was a way, to, you know, test, how different your sexual preferences are? And to test and see how your arousal is different, or the same, based on locations of stimulation and things like that?”

Bloody fucking hell.

In a split second, Marc was fronting, Steven slipping back into the headspace, completely overwhelmed and unsure of what to say or how to react. You noticed the abrupt switch, and after recovering from the brief whiplash, you felt panic spur within you. You’d scared him away.

Marc’s brows were furrowed, like he wasn’t completely picking up what you were putting down.

“So, what exactly are you suggesting?”

You closed your eyes.

“I guess—what I’m suggesting is that you—you help me research. You—you let me study you, each of you, independently, to see—to see how different your sexual behaviors and preferences are.”

“Like—like a questionnaire, or something?”

Marc questioned, but when you shook your head, eyes casting downwards, it suddenly dawned on him. Steven’s departure made sense. Everything made sense.

“So... so lemme get this straight.”

Marc made a stopping motion with his hand, gesturing for you to pause.

“You—want to have sex, with me—with us... for science?”

“Well, I mean, it—it doesn’t necessarily have to be with me, I could—we could find someone else, if you’re more comfortable, and—and I could just observe, or—”

“So you’re a voyeur, now?”

You jolted and Marc’s vulgarity, eyes quickly scanning your surroundings to make sure no one was listening in on your conversation. Luckily, the cafe was relatively deserted at that point.

“No! No, that’s not—I’m just saying, with what I’m suggesting, it—it would make the most sense for the researcher to—to be more hands-on, but that’s...”

Your voice trailed off, staring at a speck of grime on the table, trying to calm the rapid racing of your heart.

Yeah, seems she's interested in being real hands-on, huh?

Marc struggled to hold in his snickering at Jake’s internal dialogue, but after seeing the worry that was clinging to your features, his sympathy prevailed.

“Y/N.”

He spoke calmly, cool and collected. Your eyes flitted to his, where he was watching you intently. However, you could see the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“So what you’re saying is... you want to have sex, with me, for science.”

He reiterated, and you opened your mouth to protest, to defend your credibility, to rationalize your bizarre proposition, but instead, a long sigh escaped you as you admitted defeat.

“Yes. Yeah. That’s…exactly what I’m saying.”

A brief silence stagnated between you, and there was a tightness forming in your chest as every worst-case-scenario began coming to fruition in the forefront of your mind.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to overstep, or—or—”

“What, exactly, would this entail?”

Marc inquired, unable to deny his curiosity. You blinked once, then twice, processing his words.

“So—so you’ll do it?”

He held up his hands as if to tell you to slow down.

“Just—hang on. Hypothetically speaking, what—what would this even look like?”

Excitement zipped up your skin as you reached down into your briefcase, pulling out a manila folder full of several sheets of scribbled ideas and disorganized thoughts.

“Well, see, I’ve been brainstorming—”

Christ, she has the whole thing planned.

Steven’s voice sounded faint, breathless, winded. Marc ignored him, instead focusing in on your sudden enthusiasm.

“—and I came up with a research plan. So, the way it would go—we’d meet for the weekend, three weekends in a row, with a week break in between. Each alter will have their own weekend to be the subject of study. Day one, we—well, you would lead the sexual encounter. Do what you want, showcase what sex usually looks like for you, what you like, what you don’t like—”

Marc's mind was reeling. He shamelessly attempted to ignore the effect your words were having on him. Do what you want. What you like. To you.

You were still talking.

“—and then the second day, you’d let me take the reins. I’ll psychoanalyze your behavior from the first day, and synthesize that with all the information I already have about you, and I’ll try to—well, I don’t wanna say push your buttons, but—basically, as shitty as it sounds, I’d be trying to bring to light any vulnerabilities, prod at the soft spots, stuff like that. Try to see if I can find what it is each of you seeks out through sexual intimacy. Does that make sense?”

Marc shook his head, lost in thought, but he blinked away the fog in his mind and quickly corrected himself with a nod.

“Yeah, I mean—I think so? Would this—what would you do, once it’s over? Like, what’s the point?”

“It would never be published, or shared with anyone else, I can promise you that. It’s—it would mostly be for me. Kind of like a passion project, I guess. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and, well...”

Passion project?

What’s she mean, ‘she’s been thinkin’ about it for awhile?’

Marc almost shushed the voices in his head aloud, trying to clear his head of static so he could properly take all of this in.

He looked up at you, and you were staring up at him with eye round and hopeful, almost reverent as they passed over him. He blew out a slow breath.

“Do... can we have time to think about it? To talk about it?”

The fuck do you mean, jefe? I’m ready to start right now.

You nodded encouragingly, although Marc caught the brief glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.

“Of course, Marc. Take as long as you need. And—please don’t feel obligated to say yes. I mean it. I know—I know this kind of came out of left field, and—and I don’t want to violate any boundaries, or—or jeopardize our friendship in any way, I would never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, just—”

You stalled your tangent with a slow breath.

“Just let me know, okay?”

Marc nodded at you, smiling softly and contemplatively as he rose from the table and exited the coffeeshop, leaving you to stew in anticipation and something adjacent to remorse.

The call came in the next day, at 11am on the dot. It was Steven on the other line when you answered, walking out of the lecture hall doors as your class adjourned.

“Hello?”

You answered.

“Mornin’, Y/N. It’s, uh—It’s Steven.”

You giggled.

“I know, Steven. I have caller ID, and believe it or not, your accent is kind of distinct.”

You could practically hear him blush on the other end.

“Right. Yeah. Well, I just—I was callin’ to, uh—Christ, of course they made me do this, I can’t even—”

“Steven.”

You interrupted gently, your calmness soothing his nerves to some degree. He took a breath.

“Sorry. I—We talked it over. The whole—your experiment. And—and I think we’re all up for it.”

You froze in your tracks, students continuing to rush around on either side of you in the hallway. Your hand was shaking.

“I—really? Are you sure?”

“Well, no—I mean, yeah, I just—of course, I’ve got some reservations, but, I mean—it’s for science, yeah?"

A smile was creeping up your face.

“Yeah. Yes. For—for research purposes.”

Yeah, solely research purposes, my ass.

Marc quipped internally, and Steven gulped.

“Right, then. Could we—shall we meet again today, or—whenever, to talk it over a bit more?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“That’d be perfect. We can meet same time, same place as yesterday?”

He gave a hum of agreement, and you felt suddenly breathless as the reality of the situation began to set in.

“Right. I’ll—I’ll see you then, okay, Steven?”

“Yeah, ‘lright, cheers.”

“And, Steven?”

You called quickly, hoping to catch him before he ended the call.

He hummed in response. You smiled.

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 '𝖓 𝖌𝖔 | 𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖈/𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader/steven grant x fem!reader

summary: leave it to steven to patch things up

requested: hello!! hope you're having a great day. idk if requests are open. but if it is, can i request a marc spector x reader? he and reader got into a big fight, marc giving the body back to steven. while they grew apart, marc can see how she struggled through steven's eyes. and steven being the softie, he comforts her and asks her when she's ready so that he can let marc take control. just angst and fluff please. i'd really love it. thank you!!!

warning: i dunno man, not much ?

a/n: sorry for dissapearing for a while. school was being a pain but yeah, i'm ready for some steven

not my gif!

.°•*♡

steven made his way through the apartment. the air was filled with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. he felt and was visibly uncomfortable. it wasn't always like this. with you around his apartment always smelled like fresh baked apple pie and there where a candle on the table that was lit, the vase of sunflowers where always bright.

but today, their leaves were hanging and the colour was draining from the petals. the apartment didn't smell amazing and the candle was laying shattered on the ground. the coffee table had been moved a few inches and it was suspiciously quiet.

it could've been his ears misleading him but he heard a faint yelp. steven made his way to the room you both had shared. the door was almost never closed so he began to get worried.

what had happened?

"y/n?" he called out and knock a few times on the door, he slowly pushed it opened to see you kneeling on the floor with your index finger in your mouth.

"honey what happened?" steven stepped closer but you quickly stopped him.

"don't come closer, here's shattered glass everywhere," your voice sounded hoarse and your tear stained cheeks broke his heart. steven could sense that you had let your guard down knowing it was him instead of someone else.

instead of marc.

"angel, i have shoes on. it's you i'm worried about," he pointed out, and looked towards your bare feet. you nodded and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. steven walked over towards you picking you up and placing you on the bed. kneeling down he picked up the bigger shards of glass before returning with a broom.

"what happened?"

"it's nothing really. it's my fault too, to be honest," you sniffled. there wasn't another logical explanation.

but you can't help but worry about him. about how he's grinding steven's body. how neither of them is getting any rest. you can't remember the last time steven even ate a plate of real food.

steven quickly maneuvered his way to you taking your hands in his.

"none of that. marc has to work on his temperament around you."

you nodded and opened your mouth to say something but nothing had come out. but what if you just layed it lower then this wouldn't have had happened. maybe if you didn't want to know about their wellbeing all the time he wouldn't have said you were being clingy.

you know marc didn't mean what he had said, it was only said out of anger. you had also said hurtful things.

"could you maybe tell marc that i'm sorry. for what i had said," you asked softly toying with your fingers. steven chuckled, you were absolutely adorable.

"yeah, i'll tell the bugger."

you smiled at him and layed your head on steven's chest. you can always count on steven to make things better. tend the wounds. fix your broken heart.

"g'night steven," you yawned and layed back.

"g'night my love."

𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 | 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: since donna had put you both in inventory, why not make put of it a date?

warning: probably my lack of inspo, sorreyy

a/n: requested! also this is really really really short! Hi there! Could you do a Steven Grant fic where he surprises you to a nice little date at the museum he works at and gives you a private tour of every exhibit? Thank you! @aspie-allie

not my gif!

.°•*♡

"oh and this is just my favorite exhibit of all the exhibits!" steven exclaimed as he squeezed your hand in his. he led you through the many paintings and small statues of the many gods and goddesses of egypt.

his eyes sparkled and he carried a toothy grin. he explained about what power each god and goddess held over egypt though the years and the love story between some of them. you didn't care about any of it really, you just care about the person who couldn't stop rambling about them.

the way his voice changed a few octaves with each explanation, or the way his eyes searched for something new you might find interesting, or the way his hair fell into his face and his attempt to move it out of the way, and maybe it was for the fact that he didn't let go of your hand. you didn't mind. not at all.

steven wasn't shy, he just wasnt fond of making the first move. so when the two of you started your own private little tour of the museum you took hold of his hand, and steven didn't let go. not even once.

"i'm rambling again, ain't i? i'm sorry y/n, i don't wanna spoil the night with my rambling," he told you, and he looked down scratching the back of his neck.

you were quick to take hold of his other hand, you squeezed it and he looked up at you.

"i would never get tired of your rambling, if it meant i get to stare at you, then please, by all means, ramble away."

steven chuckled and blushed. he nodded and looked around, "c'mon just 'round there is all the fun stuff."

steven pulled you along with him and you giggled, jogging after him still hand in hand. maybe it's cliche but what you were feeling for steven was like in every fairytale book your mother ever read to you.

maybe you just believed in crazy love.

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader

summary: you rarely fought, but when you did it got pretty bad.

warning: angst that turns into fluff

a/n: requests are open!

not my gif!

.°•*♡

you rarely fought, but when you did, it got pretty bad. hurtful things were being said left and right and that meant marc left the apartment fuming and you with a broken heart.

tonight was one of the nights where a fight was inevitable. marc stumbled into the apartment and an unholy hour of the night, he was beaten up and bruised and he didn't even bother to tell you how or where it had happened. he simply brushed off your questions and made his way into the bathroom.

"marc, would you just answer me!"

he grumbled and took off his shirt exposing a big scar that went from his ribs near to his navel. taking out the first aid kid that was under the sink; he grabbed some cotton and rubbing alcohol. hissing at the pain you looked away.

"what happened?" you tried again but still no answer. "marc, please i'm worried about you."

"then stop!" he hissed at you and slammed the bathroom door in your face. you gulped down the lump that was forming in your throat and walked away from the door.

you went into the kitchen and boiled some hot water, taking a mug out of the cupboard and a teabag of one of marc's favorite tea. after the water boiled you poured it into the mug and left it on the table. you also took his food out of the oven and placed it next to the tea with a fork and a knife.

when you were done you made your way into the bedroom, taking off the clothes from the day before and putting on one of marc's shirts and sweats, you also grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the linen closet making your way to the guest bedroom.

you heard marc move around in the kitchen, then you heard his plate being put in the sink, then you heard his footsteps going past the guest bedroom into the bedroom, then quickly turning around and coming to the guest bedroom.

he knocked softly, you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't focusing on every move he made. when you didn't answer he opened the door and leaned against the door frame.

"i know you're awake," he said but you only turned your back towards him. you didn't want to fight with him. you just cared about him. you just worried about him. all you wanted was an explanation.

marc moved towards the bed and sat down at the foot of the bed. "can you please come back to bed?"

no response.

"i'm sorry i lashed out on you."

again, no response.

"i know you worry about me, and i know i don't always appreciate it, but i do, i really do," he told you, rubbing a hand up and down your leg. he hoped that would pull something out of you but it didn't.

your eyes brimmed with tears, "honey, please. i'm sorry."

you only nodded. he climbed in behind you, pulling you flat against his chest. he kissed your shoulder to where your shoulder and neck connected and then behind your ear.

"i'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

you turned around, "i care about you, i worry about you and i love you so much that if i lost you without knowing where or how it happened i wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"i know honey, i'm sorry. i'll try to be better at communicating with you."

you nodded, your thumb running over his cheek bone and light stuble. marc kissed your palm and then pulled you in to kiss your lips.

"i love you too," he said between kisses.

you smiled, "we can go back to bed now, it's kinda uncomfortable on a twin size bed."

marc chuckled and stood up taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 | 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: how could you possibly go to sleep when steven looks so so good wearing those glasses of his, nose deep in a book

warning: steven

a/n: just because i feel lonely i decided to write this. this is very very short but i hope y'all enjoy!

not my gif!

.°•*♡

convincing steven to come to bed wasn't going to happen. he was nose deep in his book for the past hour and a half only looking up briefly at you every fifteen minutes and shooting you a toothy grin. the affect this man had on you.

you weren't complaining about the sight though.

you could stare at steven in his glasses all night. the way his eyebrows furrowed when he read something, or the way his lips curved upward every five minutes. his curls falling in his face, his stubble was beginning to grow and that tired look did things to you.

steven looked good. too good.

"everything alright, honey?" he suddenly asked and you nodded, biting the tip of your finger.

"peachy," you smiled at him.

you sat up, "whatcha reading there?"

he chuckled, "try not to laugh at me," he arched an eyebrow at you and moved his glasses out of the way.

shaking your head you smiled at him.

"i'm reading about nefertari and ramses the great."

he's doing it again, talking about something only he knows and expecting you to magically know about it. he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes, and you just arched a brow motioning for him to continue.

"ramses had about two hundred wives but nefertari was his first true love. like he wrote poetry for her occasionally, he bought her everything and built stuff for her. he always spoke well of her," he looked at you and you smiled.

"he sounds like a real gentleman."

"yeah, but the two hundred wives is a bit much isn't it?"

you nodded. he looked down at his book again, "listen to this line he wrote on her chamber of her burial site, 'my love is unique - no one can rival her, for she is the most beautiful woman alive. just by passing, she has stolen my heart.' not to sound cheesy, my love, but you also stole my heart." he smiled.

you blushed and smiled, "well if i stole your heart why don't you come join me in bed."

steven stood up and placed his glasses on the desk along with his book. he climbed into bed pulling you into his chest. you placed your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and breathing in his scent.

he brushed his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead multiple times.

"i love you," he breathed.

"i love you, too."

.°•*♡

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: working at a museum had its perks one of them being developing a stupid crush on your co-worker

warning: cuteness overload

a/n: requests are open!

not my gif!

.°•*♡

the day started as usual; not hearing your alarm, not finding a good enough outfit to wear, your hair having a moody day, the other shoe being missing, burning yourself with hot water, spilling your coffee on your blouse, closing the door on your finger and your car not starting.

what could possibly go wrong further?

probably donna putting you on inventory for being late. it bothered you for a second until you realized that steven would probably be there with you. he scurried in ten minutes after you, splattering apologies left and right.

it was cute.

he looked good today. not like he didn't every other day, but today, there was something about his hair falling just right in his face, his smile just warming up the place, his curious eyes awakening bubbles in your stomach and let's not get started on his outfit.

the button up shirt was hugging all the right places and his pants was a bit tight on his arse area leaving much to the imaginative mind, the denim jacket he was wearing over the shirt made you giddy. like you said, steven grant looked good.

gosh, stupid crush.

"y/n?" donna snapped her fingers in your face and you looked at her bewildered. how long had you been staring at steven? must have been a while, because he was now standing behind the counter scanning barcodes on multiple sweets and toys.

"you with us?"

"yeah, yeah sorry. i had a terrible morning," you lied through your teeth. well not technically lying seeing as you clearly had a terrible morning.

donna smirked, "that terrible morning have anything to do with stevie boy?"

gosh no, never.

you shook your head, "no."

looking at the clock you gasped, the next school bus should be here in ten minutes and your flashcards where no where to be found.

shit!

you forgot them on your desk. you had put a reminder on your phone last night that first thing when you wake up is to take the flashcards but you didn't even have a chance to look at your phone. speaking of said phone, it's still on charge. at home.

"no flashcards?"

"no flashcards."

donna sighed, "i'll get someone else to lead the tour today, go help stevie with the sweets and toys there would ya?"

she walked away, "it's steven."

~

"what does jellies have anything to do with egyptian mythology, it's a waste of money, honestly."

"i completely agree with you," you said and steven jumped a little, not expecting anyone to be actually listening to him.

"h-hi, sorry. i mumble a lot," he sputtered his face turning beet red. you smiled shaking your head.

"don't worry about it, steven, i do it all the time," you giggled and steven nodded throwing another sweets bag into the basket. steven looked uncomfortable, but that was from your perspective.

from steven's perspective, his heart was racing. his hands were sweating and if you focused hard enough you'd see a small tremble in his hands. why? because he was hopelessly and madly in love with you it was actually embarrassing.

the countless hours he spent staring at you as you danced across the museum, how your eyes seemed to sparkle and how you held your professional pose when a ridiculous question was asked by a pre-schooler. the smile you'd throw him when you caught him staring made his heart stop and it felt as if he would pass out then and there.

it was awkwardly oblivious the effect you had on him for everyone except you.

"shouldn't you be touring a bunch of pre-schoolers?" he mumbled as he busied his hands. you toyed with a egyptian hippo shaking your head.

"forgot my flashcards," you said and steven nodded.

"how's boss lady handling the news?"

you chuckled, "i'm probably on inventory tonight."

"looks like i'm not alone tonight," steven chuckled and you smiled at him.

"thank goodness for that," you said and grabbed the scanner from him scanning the hippos, whilst steven just stared at you.

knock it out, weirdo.

damnit, stupid crush.

~

usually, it was either you or steven in here. never both of you, but it seems like tonight the universe had other plans. probably tired of you both walking on egg shells around each other trying not to spill a love confession.

conversation flowed easily between you and steven, which was a surprise to both of you. steven whooed you with facts about egypt and you whooed him with what's happening on the news nowadays. you were an odd pair but it was rare in a world like today.

you caught steven staring at you multiple times in the past hour, and if your face turned any red shade darker, you were sure you'd explode.

"is there something on my face?" you randomly asked as you turned to him and wiping across your face.

"wh-what?" steven asked putting down a box of artifacts and looking at you putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"is there something on my face?"

"n-no, why do you ask?"

"cause you keep looking at me as if i have something on my face," you smiled and wringed your hands together looking down.

steven gulped, it's either now or never, right?

"i'm sorry, you just look s-so beautiful."

you gasped, looking at him with wide eyes. you've probably had to much candies. the sugar is probably playing tricks on your mind. yep, that's all it was, tricks was being played.

"wh-what?"

"y/n, i've had the longest and stupidest crush on you from the moment you had walked through that doors. you had held my heart in the palms of your hands the second you said hello to me, and i knew i wanted to marry you when you said goodbye,"steven said, looking anywhere but you.

"steven, look at me," you said softly walking towards him and putting your hands on his cheeks.

"i've had the stupidest crush on you as well," you smiled. steven put his hands on yours leaning into its touch.

he smiled like a toddler. a look of unbelieve and pure excitement in his eyes. if he could he'd stare at you all night. he probably could, and he probably would.

"steven, kiss me," and he did. his lips was soft but firm. his hands moved to your waist pulling you closer to him. your hands snaked around his shoulders weaving themselves in between his locks. you pulled away and rested your forehead against his and bit your lip.

thanks, stupid crush.

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 • 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: marc has been getting on steven's nerves and it doesn't help that his boss, donna, is biting his head off over everything.

warning: few curse words, marc being a asshole

a/n: requests open!

not my gif

. °.•*♡

potroast was in the oven. the apartment was clean, and y/n's boyfriend of three years is on his way home, and judging by the texts — he wasn't in a sunshine mood.

she looked at the clock, only five more minutes until she sees the love of her life. she scurried towards her—his closet, and picked out her favorite dress shirt. it hung around her frame like a dress. she undid her hair that was in a ponytail, falling in a wavy mess on her shoulders, she also got rid of the leggins she was wearing.

she heard keys jiggling in the lock and quietly she made her way towards the living room.

"it smells lovely in here, my love," his voice rang through the apartment. she poked her head around the corner, and smiled at him. she really took him in since she couldn't this morning.

he was running late, again.

he was wearing a blue dress shirt, black pants and his usual sneaker shoes. his hair was messy and the bags underneath his eyes was even possible more darker, and the bag he always carries was slung around the coat hanger.

their eyes connected and he smiled at her, "c'mere, sweetheart," he said and opened his arms. she walked towards him and he took in her appearance with a smirk on his face.

"i love it when you wear my clothes."

"i love wearing your clothes," she smiled and gave him a kiss. she grabbed his hand and led him towards the kitchen, pouring him a cup of coffee and making him sit down.

"need any help, darlin'?" he asked.

"you're helping me just sitting there and looking pretty," she told him and as she walked passed him she kissed his cheek. she set the table and took the potroast out of the oven.

steven dished for them and they digged in. y/n took ahold of his hand and rubbed her thumb pad over his knuckles.

"how was work?"

he sighed and shook his head, "it's as if donna is doing it on purpose. she's always sitting on my head, oh and marc isn't any better. the bugger won't shut up!"

hey! i can hear you y'know.

"oh shut up!"

y/n couldn't help the giggle that slipped passed her lips. and steven only smiled and shook his head at her. gosh he loved her.

once they were done eating steven volunteered to do the dishes and y/n sat at the table just watching him. she couldn't help the smile that made its way to her lips. the way her eyes observed every inch if him. she adored him. every broken part of him.

"i know, i got a fantastic ass," steven said as he looked at her watching him. she scoffed.

"you wish grant."

he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, his hands firmly placing themselves on her hips. "is that jealousy i hear?"

she shook her head and bit her lip. but steven only smirked at her and nodded his head.

"i never thought you'd be the jealous type, my love."

she hit his chest, "oh shut up, you div."

he laughed at her antiques. he cupped her cheeks and kissed her. she kissed back and leaned more into steven. he grabbed her under her thighs and lifted her unto the counter so that he was standing between her legs. she pulled away, the need for air becoming necessary.

y/n weaved her fingers though his messy curls loving the way it bounced back.

it was steven's turn to stare at her now. he was madly in love with her the second she walked into the museum, but once they started talking she missed the tour completely. not that she minded though.

"i know, i've got an freakishly attractive face," she told him and he chuckled.

"marry me," he softly said. he looked at her with a smile, her own making its way unto her face.

"marry me, and let's spend the rest of our lives together. maybe we can run away, only us," he told her with a smile.

and me.

"and marc."

she laughed, and nodded her head.

"c'mon sweetheart, lemme hear you say it."

"yes i'll marry you, and run away with you."

. °.•*♡

𝖒𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 | 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

paring: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: after a sleepless night y/n finds herself in front of steven's door and with a confession in her heart.

warning: language(i think), fluff(yes it's a warning), sleepy steven, friends to lovers

request is open!

a/n: ayo first moon knight fic. hope yall enjoy

not my gif

･*:.｡.･

left, no. right, nope. back. nada. stomach, zip.

nothing seemed to work. she had tried a glass of warm milk. reading a book. watching a movie. solving a rubics cube. taking a walk around the block.

but nothing seemed to work. her brain wouldn't shut down. her brain wouldn't stop thinking about the one person she desperately needed to stop thinking about.

steven grant.

and his chocolate brown curly hair, she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands though it. his eyes that she seemed to get lost in. she thought about the curve of his lips and she couldn't help but wonder how it soft it would feel against her own. his hands exploring every curve of her body.

ugh get a grip!

she turned her neck to the right and 04:32 flashed bright red. she groaned and smashed a pillow in her face. she stood up pulling a pair of jeans on and an oversized sweatshirt on with converse.

she let her feet map her way, getting lost in her thoughts again. how could she let this happen? catching feelings for her best friend, and practically distancing her from him and steven feeling guilty because of it. the poor man thought it was his fault.

she went the depths and asked donna to move her to another station just so that she wouldn't get distracted. but had that worked? abso-freakin'-lutly not. if possible, she thought about him even more.

she looked up at the building. steven's building.

she knocked once, twice, thrice and the door swung open. it looked as if steven was ready to punch the person knocking at this unholy hour in the morning but when his eyes connected with y/n's his expression softened.

"y/n, what're you doin' here?" he said and opened the door further to invite her in.

she wringed her hands together walking in. "couldn't sleep, and I knew you were awake," she spoke softly. this was a bad idea.

steven nodded, "any particular reason keepin' you awake?" he moved passed her and towards the kitchen, he grabbed two muggs from the cupboard and turned on the kettle.

"just thinking about stuff," she told him and jumped onto the counter and wringed her hands together again out of nervous habit and Steven noticed.

"what kinda stuff?" he asked again and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for the kettle to boil.

y/n gulped, "work stuff."

"we both know you're lying, you're a terrible liar," steven chuckled, "c'mon, what's botherin' you?"

now or never, y/n.

"you."

steven choked on air. his cheeks flushing bright red. could it be possible that his crush on his best friend of two years liked him back? that couldn't be right.

"steven, you're consuming my every thought. every waking moment i think about you. i can't sleep because you're there. and trust me when i say i've tried everything to go to sleep. steven, i'm in love with you," she breathed but didn't dare to look up at him.

"fucken' finally," steven said as he moved towards her cupping her cheeks and kissing her. she was shocked and her eyes was wide but after a few moments she melted into him and grapped him by his shirt and pulled him closer, in between her legs.

steven pulled away and took a breath. he caressed her red dusted cheek and chuckled, "took you long enough."

"well then I sincerely apologize," she smiled at him and bit her lip. he swiped his thumb over her lip.

"apology accepted."

･*:.｡.･