Fortunatelyangrycheesecake - Grey's

Puzzles

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader (mention of Marc Spector x fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: Steven’s not rough with you, like Marc or Jake. He’s more… Reserved. But he will wreck your shit if you ask nicely.

A/N: So yes this is fluffy Steven smut. No I cannot be stopped and no it is not a part of Red Handed.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, softdom!Steven, sub?Reader, riding, missionary, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding kink, trying for a baby, pregnancy, mention of marathon sex??? I think that’s it???

Steven Grant was a master of puzzles.

Jigsaws he solved within a matter of hours, if that. You’d long since stopped trying to keep track of his 3000-or-more-piece puzzles, always Egyptian-themed, that he’d clear a table for, finish in record time, and then break it up and put it away before reaching for the next one. 

Escape rooms? You figured when you introduced him to the random little escape room app on your phone that he’d be just as stumped as you were. Instead, ten minutes later, he asked you how he gets to the next world. “Steven,” You breathed in astonishment. “You… You beat the fucking game?!” I think it’s a given to say that he’d also completely owned your consoles when you showed him puzzle-based games like Skyrim or Zelda.

Jenga, Ka-Plunk, DnD, hell, even Clue, he blew your mind with how quickly puzzles were solved by his hands. Incomprehensible, astounding, holy fucking shit your boyfriend is a genius. 

Specifically, one of them in particular.

His Rubik’s cube.

The way he moved those goddamn fingers, those fingers that he could bend and flick and curl expertly against you and in you when you needed him too. Those hands alone could make you see stars if he was really intent on doing so.

He hated it when he had to use both hands for the Rubik’s cube. So he oiled it, ensuring that it flipped and moved with the smallest of touches, one-handed. Shk, shk, shk, he’d already solved it twice while you were watching, restarting the process when you asked him that one simple question. “Just one more time, love. Three times, then I’m all yours, yeah?” His soft voice was deeper, huskier, a little out-of-focus because of how deeply he was concentrating– not that you could tell he was. He looked calm, serene… but calculating. Deep in thought.

You were the puzzle this time.

“S-Steven, please–”

“Just a little bit longer, love.” He tossed the cube up in the air in front of your face, just being a showoff at this point. 

Two weeks ago, you’d started talking about raising a family together. At first it had just been uncertain questions, but then you’d started looking into schools nearby, making lists of baby names, adopting a healthier diet, and going to the doctor. Steven was more determined to get you pregnant than you’d expected, tracking your cycles and ovulation periods– hence why he’d made you take a week off work. He’d seemed a bit nervous when he admitted that he called in for you. “Well, love… you’re ovulating now, yeah? I figured now’s a better time than any to–” You’d never heard the end of that sentence, having immediately dragged him to the bed.

 But now there wasn’t an equal flow, like there usually was.

“Don’t cum until I say you can, dove. You can do that, yeah? Can you be a good girl for me?”

He’d laid back, helping you straddle his lap and sink down on his thick cock; it was then you’d realized that he hadn’t cum earlier, that he was holding off, maybe hoping an extremely powerful orgasm might be what it takes to knock you up. You were a puzzle he needed to solve, so like always when he focused intensely, you didn’t even begin to understand what he might be thinking. 

He hadn’t thrust up into you, although he had allowed you to roll your hips, bounce on his length, do whatever you want at whatever pace you wanted– there were only three rules. You couldn’t touch yourself, you couldn’t cum, and you had to keep your hands on his stomach so he knew you weren’t cheating in your blissed-out state.

Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from the Rubik’s cube to your red, sweaty face. “S-Steven… Please, please…” 

You found it. Right there. That spot where you can easily drive to your ecstasy. Maybe Steven won’t notice if you cum. Maybe he’ll let it slide. But he knew your body better than you did, and when you started to speed up the rocking of your hips, Steven’s free hand flew to your waist, effectively stopping your impending orgasm. “Steeeevvennn,” You whined, reduced to a blubbering mess of begging to barter for your release. Your approaching euphoria was ripped from you, descending rapidly into a cold pit of roiling tension in your lower belly. 

Steven’s hand crawled up your side, brushing painfully close to your breast without touching it and running up the length of your neck. He stopped at your mouth, fingers expertly running over your top and bottom lip gently. “Sh, dove,” He said, all but absentminded as you tried to fuck yourself without fucking yourself on him, “Almost there.”

He slipped his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them. You swirled your tongue and bobbed your head, using the same movements as you would when sucking him off, but aside from briefly glancing to your face, he gave no reaction to indicate that it was turning him on at all. His cock barely twitched inside you, and you weren’t entirely certain if he just had that good self-control, or if you’d gone numb from the waist down from fucking like rabbits all day in any position and location possible in your flat.

Finally– finally– he removed his fingers and twisted to toss the Rubik’s cube onto the nightstand, unintentionally shifting himself deeper inside of you, if possible, and eliciting a moan from you; yep, you could still definitely feel everything down there. If anything, you were over-sensitive, rather than under. He stared up at you with admiration and a small smile, massaging your thighs. “You did so well for me, dove. You ready to cum?”

If it were only possible, you would have cum right then. “Yes, please yes!” Maybe in the morning you’d be a little embarrassed about how easily you begged, and so quickly, too– but you had little time to think about it. Effortlessly, Steven rolled you both over so that he was on top, between your legs and still buried deep inside you– maybe even deeper, oh god, you can’t take it–

Steven’s gentle kiss on your forehead was nothing compared to the sheer intensity of how hard he pistoned his hips into you, the head of his cock bumping your cervix and almost making you scream. “Let it out, darling,” Steven urged, “I like to hear you. Please, love?” He punctuated the question with an open-mouthed, heavy kiss on your pulse point right under your jaw, and this time you didn’t hold back. Your wail of pleasure drowned out his soft moans and gasps as he panted for air. Sweat glistened silver on his tawny skin, dripping from his nose, his hair, the chain necklace he wore– gently, you tugged on it, and Steven’s hands flew to yours. He entwined your fingers together before pinning them on either side of your head, driving deeper, faster, harder, until you can’t breathe, you can’t see, there’s only Steven, who kisses you passionately as his thrusts falter. “You can cum now darling,” He breathed into your mouth, moaning as you screamed his name loudly enough to hurt your throat. You soaked the bed, him, hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole flat was soaked. You’d never squirted before with him, and you wondered if it was what he’d been planning for. 

Steven came with a cry, finishing as deep as he possibly could– a part of you thought he must have shot himself directly into your womb. He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you close, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, wincing as his hips rocked of their own accord in the aftershocks of his high. “Can you keep it all in for me when I pull out, dove? We’ve gotta make sure every drop has a chance, darling, every drop.” His hand rested pointedly on your stomach, making you smile and nod frantically.

When you shivered, he immediately reached for a nearby blanket, carefully pulling out of you and ensuring you were warm enough before moving away. When he came back, he very gently cleaned you up before moving you to a hot bath, letting you lay there while he changed the sheets. Before you could even think of moving from the tub, Steven returned carrying his comfiest hoodie and sweatpants he knew you liked to wear, along with a snack oh-so-typical of Steven. 

“Are those… cookies?”

“Oatmeal cookies,” He specified, sitting on the edge of the tub and carefully handing you your plate. “With raisins. Better for you and the baby, innit?”

You flushed up to your hairline, touched by the gesture. “Honey, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”

“You will be,” Steven said excitedly, setting the milk (yes, he even brought you milk) on the sink so that he could kneel on the outside of the tub, staring at you fondly with his chin resting on the edge. He caressed your face, smiling when you leaned into him to press your foreheads together. “We’re gonna get you pregnant this week, love, I can feel it.” He kissed you softly, before his face contorted thoughtfully as he pulled slowly away.

“Steven?”

“Orange juice,” He said, abruptly standing.

“Huh?!”

He grabbed the glass of milk on his way out of the bathroom. “Orange juice is better than milk, right? Or, maybe not? Maybe they’re equal? You wouldn’t want them at once, love, so; orange juice, yeah, and a banana? I’ll just drink the milk then, don’t wanna waste it, and I’m not sure if I could pour it back into the container without makin’ a bloody mess…”

You listened to his rambling move about the flat as you nibbled on your cookies, smiling to yourself. You and Steven wanted this baby more than anything; and you wanted it even more since Marc and Jake were both scared but excited at the prospect. You looked at baby clothes together, you had everything planned out, and now you were finally, actually trying without any kind of protection to conceive.

Steven may have planned the week, but they were all so sweet, so supportive, so protective, ensuring that you eat right, drink right, sleep right, rest, bathe– 

–and you loved them with all your heart.

The next morning, when you were making the bed, you found his Rubik’s cube half-finished on the nightstand. A smile made its way onto your face as you realized he’d never completed the puzzle last night in favor of completing you.

A couple weeks later, when you and Steven read the positive results of the pregnancy test, you realize, amidst all the cheering and hugging and crying, that with all of his planning, trying to get you pregnant was yet another puzzle he had solved, effortlessly.

With the help of Marc and Jake, of course.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! :3

Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @poeticsorcery @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @laters-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid

C*ck Therapy

Therapist Steven Grant x patient!camgirl!female reader

Warnings: 18+, taboo relationship, therapist-patient sexual relations, c*ck warming, p in v, unprotected, mentions of cam girl activities, mentions of masturbation, mentions of oral (f rec), umm.. how else do I tag this. Brat taming Steven.

Just 1.8k words of horniness I’m sorry. Beta’d by the lovely @melodygatesauthor

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s got you so angry, love,” he said while gripping your hips down onto his, not letting you roll them the way you longed to.

See, Steven used to be your therapist. He used to be your kind, respectful, and attentive therapist for about 4 months but that quickly changed when you decided to divulge your secondary income source – your premium content. Subscription based content. Adult modeling. Your camgirl side hustle. Whatever you wanted to call it.

He didn’t take the information as well as you were hoping, stuttering and blushing and not meeting your eyes, and you felt uncomfortable, thinking he was judging you for it. In actuality, Steven had found your profile a few weeks prior to your confession, and couldn’t help but palm himself to your entire content library. He’d never come harder than he had on the first night he stumbled upon one of your videos. It wasn’t long before he became addicted to the way you fell apart on camera.

He knew it was wrong, he knew it was probably against some rule about him being your therapist but he couldn’t help it. You were so intelligent in your sessions with him, always providing great insight on your own issues. You were one of his favourite patients. He was really happy with the progress you were making, and well… Steven couldn’t deny that you were beautiful. He was sure you were well aware of your beauty, so he never fancied himself someone you’d find attractive, especially considering the nature of your relationship. It was sort of forbidden. No, it was forbidden. The guilt didn’t stop him from subscribing to you though.

In your sessions, he never made you feel uncomfortable, he never gave away that he knew about your secret side gig, and he honestly wanted to help you. Steven was genuine in his career, he loved listening to you open up to him. He didn’t think his guilty addiction to you was hindering your growth until you mentioned your videos and apparently it showed on his face. He began stumbling over his words, trying desperately to explain that he wasn’t judging you. When you told him he was making a ‘cringe face’, he was forced to admit that he was actually cringing at himself, not at you. It was a painful few moments for you both.

Long story short, he couldn’t keep seeing you in his office, and decided some private sessions in his home were more appropriate. They usually started off with him bending you over the couch and then asking you how your day went as he righted your clothing, or kissing you messily the second you walked through the door, only to ravenously eat you out on the closest surface he could find. He was insatiable. Half your sessions were him just whining and whimpering about how delicious you were and how he couldn’t believe you were really letting him do this to you. Steven still let you talk, still listened to your issues and still tried to therapize you. It was just after he fucked your brains out.

You came over with an attitude today, irritated by external factors and you were looking forward to Steven fucking it out of your system. When you tried to initiate it with him, to get him to give you what you needed, he pulled back to look at you in concern. He offered to talk first, and you got angry and scoffed in his face, ripping yourself from his grasp. He conceded, telling you to take your frustrations out on him as he sat on the couch you usually laid down on in your sessions, patting his thighs in invitation. You were supposed to ride him, putting all your energy into it and watching his brows furrow as he watched his length disappear inside you again and again.

Today, he was hell-bent on you cockwarming him, claiming it was supposed to get you talking quicker but you were highly doubting the validity of his statement with the way his cock was twitching inside you every few minutes. Your slick was coating your thighs and the hairs at the base of his member, flowing more freely the longer he sat unmoving inside your hot channel. Infuriatingly, he held your hips down with his impossible strength, looking up at you with those sweet brown eyes of his as he repeated his question. Shit, what was the question?

“Hmmm?” you managed, after another unsuccessful attempt at rolling your hips.

“I said, what’s got you so angry today, love? Talk to me. I’ll make it worth it, I promise, but first you have to be good and tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, nudging your chin with his shapely nose.

You had inhale deeply, your breathlessness making it hard for you to speak. God, he really was so thick, wasn’t he? He was filling you up so perfectly, stretching you out at this angle and you had to close your eyes to even think about what you were going to say.

“That girl at work… the one I told you about who leaves all her shit for me to clean up after her shift–”

“Mhmm, keep talking, love,” the vibrations from his chest felt like an electric shock through your body, your back arching at the sensations.

“Ahhh, she-she made a mistake, and blamed me… and, and then I got reamed out by my stupid manager,” you were close to crying now, the anger subsiding slowly, and the feeling of being denied by Steven taking over.

“Ohh, sweetheart, s’not right, is it?” He brushed your hair back and rubbed your cheekbone with his thumb, and you couldn’t help but lean into his palm like a cat needing affection. “S’not your fault. Tell you what, maybe you should quit.”

“Maybe you should fuck me, come on, Steven, just–just make it go away, I need you,” you were whining pathetically, ready to let your fists land on his chest in a rage.

Steven tutted at you. He tutted, like you were a petulant child, like you were just having a tantrum, like a teacher gently disciplining a student, not like you were sitting on his cock, leaking all over him and the couch, staining the taupe suede material with your juices. Leaning forward to softly mouth at your neck, he whispers against it and lets his lips graze your skin.

“I wouldn’t be a good therapist if I didn’t let you talk about it first, would I? That’s not very ‘healing comes from within’ of me,” he laughed at the end of it, his hot breath burning you even further.

Oh, you hate him. You tightened your core when he laughed against you, the rumbling causing his cock to shift slightly and you let out a soft moan at the smallest amount of friction it granted you, and he unwillingly thrust upwards at the feeling. Oh, you knew how to get back at him.

Clenching around him again, you wait for his reaction as your lips touch the shell of his ear, whimpering, as he garbled out a choked out groan against your neck. Steven’s hips unwittingly thrust upwards again, knocking into your cervix just that small amount, enough to make you dig your nails into his shoulders where your hands were resting. You were both moaning now, and you think you can tease him like this until he finally gave in and fucked you from under you. You needed him to, therapy be damned.

Dragging your hands up into his hair, he shuddered when your nails scraped across his scalp. He licked his lips, the edge of his tongue grazing your neck before he pulled back to look into your eyes and the previous soft look he was giving you was gone, replaced with a heady look, eyelids low as his mouth was open and panting.

“No, but considering that you’re inside me right now, I’d say you’re halfway there,” you gasp as his hand shifts down to your ass, squeezing, fingers splayed wide and pulling at the flesh there.

You lean more into his chest, your breasts pressing into him now, his mouth sitting just so, dipping down to mouth at them through your top. Steven’s control was slowly slipping, his idea failing spectacularly as he pulled your hips to roll and grind on his. You squeezed your muscles around his thick and throbbing cock again, trying to entice him to pull out to the tip and buck up into you like you wished he would. You were gripping him so tight, and your slick was more than enough to make his movements smooth and yet Steven was holding back from giving you his all, his logic lost on you.

“Steven, please, I’m sorry for being short with you, I’m sorry, okay? Please just–”

You were cut off from your helpless begging when he decided he’d had enough, that you had suffered enough, that you learnt your lesson and that the anger you walked in with was gone, along with his restraint. Steven gripped your ass even tighter, his fingers pressing divots into your skin as he thrust up into you mercilessly, bouncing you on his length as you cried out for him.

His hands were squeezing you, keeping you wide open for him as he rendered you incoherent, pathetic moans and whines leaving you. With your mouth still close to his ear, your noises began spurring him on as he grunted with each pass of his cock into your hot cunt, desperate to reach his end. Your hands began bunching his blazer lapels, angry in the back of your head that he didn’t even take off his jacket when he sat you on his thick shaft. Your soft walls began fluttering around him, signaling that you were almost reaching your end, his relentless teasing having caught up with you now, hurtling you towards the edge quicker.

“Ohh, ffffuck, Steven I’m gonna–gonna come, yes,” you shouted, so close to your euphoria that you were desperate to reach. The way his cock was punching up into your cervix was just perfect, his smell overwhelming you, his hands squeezing you just right, everything was leading to this and you couldn’t help but whine when his thumb swiped at your clit once, twice–

You were coming hard.

His grunts and groans were muffled into your chest, his thrusts getting sloppy while he chased his own release, pulling your hips down to his so hard it almost hurt. Steven bucked his hips one final time before you felt the telltale pulsing inside of you, the warmth of his cum slowly trickling out from where you were still sheathed around him. He pulled back to look at it with brows raised, almost impressed at his own mess while still catching his breath.

“How are you feeling now, love? Still angry at me?”

“I wasn’t angry at you, Steven,” you sigh dazedly, shaking your head at him. “Silly man. But to answer your question, I’m feeling much better now that you’re done torturing me.”

fanart for toby foxs fanfiction

Love Language (Steven Grant Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Gender neutral pronouns throughout, but AFAB reader for smut purposes. As per this request the reader touches themselves in bed while Steven is asleep, so reader discretion advised on that topic)

Word Count: 3.4k

Request: "Huge fan of SG Wet Dreams but I also bring you: Steven being nervous about physicality and reader not wanting to push him but it's just a bit much laying next to him at night horny and how would he handle waking up to a reader pleasuring themselves 😶"

Author's Note: Bringing back my sweet boy Steven Grant for this exceptional request :) Thank you to everyone sending me these headcanons, I hope the months I take to reply are worth it 😄💞

Love Language (Steven Grant)

"It's only been a month, give him all the time he needs and he'll make a move eventually. I mean look at you, of course he will! But when he's ready and not before" You spoke firmly to your dressed up reflection in the mirrored wall, as the lift climbed to Steven's floor. Dating the gift shop employee had been the dreamiest month you could have imagined, his undivided attention and warmth filling your heart every time his eyes met yours. You could tell how much effort it had taken him just to ask you out in the first place, nervously wringing his hands as he stumbled his way through directions to a cafe he liked nearby, so the last thing you wanted to do was pressure the seemingly inexperienced sweetheart. After four dates, and a painfully slow walk back to your place, you had finally stared at his lips so unavoidably that he'd worked up the nerve to kiss you goodnight, giggling enthusiastically with every kiss you shared since. You were content to take things slow with Steven, respecting his boundaries and confident you were both in this for the long haul. However it's safe to say that while your brain had accepted that, your body didn't seem to get the message. With every sweet word, every gentle brush of his trembling fingers over your skin, every nuzzle of his nose against yours as he beamed after each kiss, you ached for him more and more. And the thought of spending the whole evening with your thighs pressed against each other on his little sofa sent electricity through your veins that was hard to ignore.

You took a deep breath before you knocked for his flat, reminding yourself again to let Steven set the pace, his comfort far more important than your stirring desires. The door sprung open the second your knuckles made contact with the wood, your sweet date hovering by the door from the moment you'd let him know you were leaving work.

"(Y/n)!" He cried excitedly, like he did every time he saw you, no matter how dates you'd been on together. His warm gaze fixed on your face, trying to notice every detail of it, even more entranced by your beauty that he'd been the first time he saw you across the museum. He stilled in the doorway, letting the butterflies inside him soar, already day-dreaming of a future where he was the man you came home to day after day.

"Hi Steven." You greeted gently, shuffling the bags in your arms a bit to snap him out of his trance.

"God sorry, I'm blocking the doorway like a numpty while you've got all those bags. Come in, let me take one of those." He scrambled out the way, shaking his head, and helping you set down the bags in your arms.

"Thank Steven, as much as I love taking the time to stare at you, they were a bit heavy." You joked, earning a almost manic laugh from him as he shook his head again, blood flushing his cheeks with colour,

"YOU staring at ME, yeah right, good one." He peered into the canvas bag as he settled it onto his kitchen counter, "What is all this love?"

"Well it's miserable outside, so I thought rather than go out I would cook for us?" You watched a sweet smile spread across Steven's face at your thoughtfulness, genuinely surprised by the seemingly endless kindness you held for him. As he watched you pull out ingredients and navigate his little kitchen his face faltered for a second,

"Oh god, i'm so sorry love, I don't know if I've told you but I'm vegan..." You laughed at his panicked expression, like he hadn't mentioned it at every dinner date for the last month, before smiling reassuringly,

"So is my ramen." Adding with a wink, "Maybe I should introduce the two of you." At that he let out another loud laugh, moving around the counter to situate himself right in front of you, timidly wrapping his arms around your neck, the soft wool of his jumper enveloping your shoulders as his lips found yours. His kiss landed softly, full of warmth, a smile fighting against his cheeks as you leant forward to let your chest settle against his.

"You really are perfect." He breathed-out absent-mindedly, more thinking aloud in the warming glow of your embrace than actively seeking to compliment you.

"I' don't know about perfect, but i'd settle for perfect for you." You replied sweetly, drinking in the loving light in Steven's eyes as he happily nodded at your comment, trying not to think about the warmth building in your lower belly as he hugged you closer. Steven stood in silence for a beat, just letting himself enjoy this moment, the kind of easy Friday night he had longed for his whole life now a regular fixture in his present and future. That seemed to trigger a follow-up thought for him because he jumped away from your touch, suddenly dashing around his flat like a man possessed.

"Are you okay, love?" You offered softly, less than concerned as you caught the beaming smile on his face as he rummaged through a satchel before turning around proudly thrusting his offering towards you.

"Yeah, sorry, I wanted to give you this before I forgot! You said you had a whiteboard at work you could decorate now, so I wanted to give you something from me to put on it! If you want to, obviously you don't have to, but I just thought..." He continued his nervous ramblings as you looked over his gift: a postcard from the museum with a collage of pictures from the ancient Egypt exhibit across the front. Turning it over delicately, already treasuring the simple gift, you could see Steven had carefully hand-written a note for you, in hieroglyphs.

"I love it Steven, of course I want to put it up. What does it say?" You beamed, watching his stare fall to his feet, hands wringing nervously like they had the first day you met.

"Well, uh, that's a secret love. One day I'll lend you my dictionary and you can find out. But I promise it's nice." He looked up proudly at the final word, a devotion in his transfixed gaze that made your heart flutter and thighs clench.

***

3:07. The glaring red light of the clock seemed to stare back at you as you struggled to return to the realm of sleep. It had been another perfect evening of respectful romance between you and Steven, ending in him spooning you in bed as you both settled into a cosy rest. But it seemed like today your body wanted more than you were willing to ask for of Steven, waking you with an almost uncomfortably warm feeling in your lower stomach. You stared at the ceiling, not daring to look at the man peacefully resting beside you, his arm still draped over your bare stomach, only adding to your sensitivity. Carefully sliding out from his grasp, you stepped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen hoping a little space would calm your pounding heart.

It was there you saw the postcard, and decided on something you knew would calm you down: there was nothing less sexy than homework, right? Creeping across the wooden floors, you scanned each book with the torch on your phone until you found the dictionary you were looking for: hieroglyphs. Settling onto the floor you began flicking through, isolating symbols and making a note of each one you translated in your phone. You could feel your eyelids get heavier as you worked, relieved that this intense concentration seemed to be keeping your mind from wandering back to the warm, muscular figure asleep a few feet away. Between the dictionary and trawling through some online forums you could bet Steven was a moderator on, it didn't take you long to find the same string of symbols on a blog covering famous Egyptian love stories from centuries past. There you found the story of a poor egyptian peasant who won the love of a pharaoh's daughter and inscribed in stone for all eternity: "My heart belongs to you, I simply borrow every beat."

If you hadn't already been sat on the floor, you might have genuinely swooned. You allowed yourself a glance at Steven's peaceful form, moved by the way he saw himself next to you, his choice of story just as telling as the sweet words he wanted you to see from him day after day whenever you were apart. You moved as quietly as you could as you set the dictionary back in its place, smiling at the thought of Steven carefully writing this note with no translation, trying to keep the depths of his feelings hidden a little longer. With everything reset you eased yourself back into your place in bed, Steven's broad hand instinctively stretching across your stomach again.

It wasn't until your skin burned under his touch that you realised your little translation exercise had only deepened your aching need for him, his romantic gift making him somehow even more desirable. As you watched him breathe softly in his sleep, full lips slightly parted you couldn't help but picture how beautiful he'd look underneath as you rode him, his lips spilling moans instead of calm breaths. Your thighs rubbed together involuntarily as you stared at him, sighing in relief at the slight friction on your warming core. You knew at this point there was no way you were going to be able to sleep without calming yourself down, your heartbeat pulsing between your legs as your gaze drifted down his bare chest, picturing his awestruck face as you left a trail of kisses down it, teasing him before taking him deep in your throat. Your hand slipped into your shorts before you realised what you were doing, a jolt running up your spine the second it made contact with your throbbing clit. You had to fight not to jump at the contact, already so aroused as you dipped your middle finger slowly into your wet folds. You held your lower lip softly between your teeth as you moved, desperate not to make enough noise to wake Steven, pushing the shame out of your mind as you brought your now slick fingers to circle your clit delicately. Gaze fixed to Steven's stout fingers resting across your bare skin, just inches from where you really them, you thought about how good they'd feel pressing into you, stretching you out and getting you wet before he brought his hard manhood to slide into your centre. As your fingers brushed your sensitive bud in quick circles, you fantasised about the view of Steven on top of you, running his length teasingly between your aching folds, smiling gleefully as you told how much needed his cock, his mouth, his fingers, any of him, begging him to fill you up.

As your eyelids fluttered shut, imagination full of the handsome man beside you, you missed his eyes cracking open slightly, before shooting wide as he watched you.

Steven could feel the slight tremble of your thighs against the bed, initially worried you were having a nightmare, but now wondering if he was in a dream of his own. He held his breath as he watched your fingers work, not wanting to disrupt, his angle letting him see down your shorts to the glistening mess you had worked yourself up into. He thought about shutting his eyes again, feeling like a pervert for wanting nothing more than to let his hand join yours, giving you what he hoped would be a very pleasant surprise. Steven had found himself in a similar position at the end of a lot of your dates, failing to take your physical relationship a step further despite building himself up to it night after night. So usually it was him laying in this bed, fisting himself to the thought of what could have happened if he had just been able to touch you.

"Steven." You moaned absent-mindedly, your mind so clouded by thoughts of him you hadn't noticed your mouth fall open. But Steven had, the noise snapping him back into the moment as he watched your tongue trace across your slightly bitten lip, your chest rising and falling as your pace quickened. He thought about all the moments and opportunities he'd missed to give you bring you to this point of ecstasy himself, and took a deep breath, deciding if he couldn't say something now, the moment might never come.

"Do you want some help with that love?" His voice cut through the quiet dark of the room, and you snapped your eyes open, quickly withdrawing your hand, cursing the involuntary whimper you let out as the loss of contact as you spoke,

"Steven, I'm so sorry! I just couldn't sleep, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. Oh god that probably makes it worse!" The words came out with a tremble as you clasped your hands over your eyes, too mortified to meet his good-natured gaze. You only gave yourself permission to look again when you felt his hand snaking up your inner thigh, tracing small circles into the soft flesh.

"You don't have to be sorry sweetheart, I'm bloody flattered actually! And, I've done the same thing after you've left before, I guess I just didn't think someone as stunning as you would really feel that way about silly old me." Your breath seemed stuck in your chest as you stared deeply into his excited gaze, feeling your legs twitch as his fingers crept higher and higher. You could see him gulp as he reached the edge of your underwear, steadying himself before he spoke,

"I could help if you want, give you a hand...so to speak." His brow furrowed as if unsatisfied with his unpracticed attempts at flirting, "I'd like to touch you, if that's something you want, otherwise I can.."

"I want you to touch me Steven." You breathed out before he could pull his hand away, eyes wide and tone pleading, in a moment that felt like heaven on earth to your excited boyfriend. He grinned and nodded as he slipped his hand into your underwear, moving painfully slowly as if you might change your mind at any second. As his thumb brushed over your wet folds a high pitched sigh left your lips, relief at being touched against coursing through your veins. Steven could feel your stomach tense at his touch, your hips bucking slightly against his hand as he found your clit, brushing over it in soft strokes as his confidence grew. Resting his thumb over your pulsing bud, he slowly slipped one finger inside you, fighting to keep his eyes open so he could watch your wanting reaction as he fought back his own growing excitement, having dreamt of this moment since the first time you'd spent the night. He gave you a few leisurely thrusts and withdraws of his finger, before adding a second one, the feeling of fullness tightening the pressure that had been building inside you all night. His hand worked your entrance as he watched your every reaction to his movements, the combination of his steady rhythm and your growing wetness making every touch feel like silky perfection. Your chest rose and fell at his whim, your nipples hard through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, calling to Steven as he could feel his own hips bucking against your trembling thighs, which occasionally clenched around his hand as your excitement built. He could feel himself straining against the fabric of his pyjamas, his aching, hard, length starting to leak his own excitement as it searched for contact.

As your climax drew closer your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling his lips to yours, barely stifling the latest moan his smooth touch drew from your lips. Eager to feel more of your body, Steven swung his leg over you, moving on top and groaning in your mouth as he felt his throbbing erection rub between your thighs. His fingers kept their steady pace, curling inside you and rubbing your almost overstimulated button, as his tongue hungrily explored your mouth. As you felt the pressure of his dick grinding just below his hand you cried out his name, arching your back to meet him as you felt yourself start to come undone,

"Steven! Fuck, you feel so good." You could feel him moan against your neck as his lips descended lower, his hips trembling at the almost sinful way you cried his name.

"I love the way you say my name love, you sound so good like this."

"You're so good Steven, so gorgeous, so good to me" You continued to praise as his face found your chest, nudging your t-shirt higher with his nose until more of you was exposed for him. He kissed sloppily over your chest, nipping and sucking at the soft skin before letting his tongue trace over your nipple, feeling your walls tighten around his fingers, the volume of your praising words climbing and climbing until they erupted into a single call of his name. You could feel yourself gush around his fingers as your thighs twitched, the teasing lick of his tongue sending you over your long anticipated edge, your whole body writhing under his as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Your head fell back as the pressure inside you finally started to dissipate, overwhelmed by the satisfied feeling of finally having had the man you love pleasure you, and how hard you came at his touch. In the haze of your bliss you could feel his fingers still working you through your orgasm until, with a harsh thrust of his hips and deep groan against your chest, he finally stilled between your legs.

With a soft grip of his hair you brought his lips back to yours for an eager kiss, before sighing out contently, "That was amazing Steven, thank you." He beamed with pride at your words, hoping that meant you'd call on his services again soon, knowing he'd be confident enough to touch any way he wanted on your next date. Planting another soft kiss on his face, you played gently with the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave your hips a soft circle against his,

"If you want I could, return the favour." You spoke softly, taking his bottom lips gently between your teeth only to be met with a laugh that burst through his lips on its own,

"Sorry (Y/n), It's just, uh, a bit too late for that." Your brow furrowed until you realised the slick spread across your shorts wasn't only your own. Even in the darkness Steven's face glowed red at his excitable reaction, watching the dawning realisation spread across face in a slight smile,

"Next time then. Whenever we next wake up." You replied with a quick peck, guiding Steven to lie next to you so you could curl up on his chest, relieved to be less conscious of touching him, and stifling a laugh at the way he nodded happily and glanced back the the red glow of the clock, willing morning to come sooner.

gn

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

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

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

Devotion || Steven Grant x Reader

-> Rating: 18+

-> Word count: 2.8k

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

Gif Credit doesn’t belong to me!

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

Shk, shk, shk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steven.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In... side- what? In- I don’t…”

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

“Oh-… Ohh. Yeah- You mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. What?

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

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

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

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

END

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