Latest Posts by fortunatelyangrycheesecake - Page 2

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With mo further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawl iut orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they aached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she cannot reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

Before and After

thinking abt how jinx told sevika she gave silco his injections because "he was a big crybaby and didn't want to do it himself." thinking abt how we know silco has given himself his injections plenty of times without issue. thinking abt how silco took in a little girl who could never do anything right, who could never be trusted with anything important because she'd fuck it up, who was a jinx, and told her "I trust you enough to put this needle in my eye." thinking abt how vulnerable of a position silco put himself in just to make jinx feel safe and loved.

You dip out, and the whole world flips over...

Jinx about Vander's letter: If only Silco read this🥺 everything could have been different😭 they could have reunited and fixed their relationship😫 what could have been💔😪

Silco if he read that bullshit:

Can you write a sequel to the sparring levihan where they actually spar and end up doing the dirty? 🔥🔥💦

Hello!! Long time no see :) This is a sort-of sequel to the sparring fic but I'm afraid there's no sparring, only a heaping helping of frustration and sweet, blissful relief when the tension finally breaks. Anyway they fuck in a tent.

Ever since the sparring incident, Levi had found himself itching to be close to her, restless whenever they were in close proximity. His fingers would twitch at his sides and his eyes would wander helplessly, searching her, examining every inch until he had her form guiltily memorised, but he had always maintained some distance. He had deliberately kept Hange at arm's length, in spite of every screaming, feral instinct that begged for the opposite. His own apparent lack of control unnerved and frustrated him. Levi had been very careful, until now, not to put it to the test.

**

"Absolutely not."

"Oh c'mon Levi, it's one night!"

"No."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'd rather crawl up a titans asshole and die than share a tent with you."

"That's a little hurtful, you know."

"Don't care."

Hange folded her arms and glared over at him. Levi averted his gaze coolly, rolling his eyes sideways to stare at the pasty, shivering recruit beside them, the ripped canvas of their own tent dangling pathetically from their hands. Levi had chewed them out enough already—this situation would have been perfectly avoidable if the idiot had checked their supplies before they set off—and they looked suitably abashed by the entire affair, but Levi curled his lip at them for good measure. They wilted under his gaze.

"Well, tough," Hange said. She turned to the recruit with an appeasing smile and handed over her own pack. "Use this for now. Please don't forget to check the condition of your own equipment in future."

The recruit nodded and snagged Hange's tent, scurrying away with a few fleeting, terrified glances at Levi as they went. Their fear was justified; Levi was feeling a little murderous, watching Hange scoop up his tent and march to a suitable location. He clenched his fists at his side and followed after her.

"Oi. Share with Mike."

Hange snorted. "He barely fits in his own tent."

"Nifa, then. Or Moblit."

Hange looked over her shoulder at him. "That'd be inappropriate."

"And this isn't? Piss off, Four-eyes."

"What's inappropriate? We're equals aren't we, Captain? It's just one night, I'm sure you can manage."

Levi disagreed. Vehemently. But he clamped his mouth shut, and watched Hange with some apprehension as she laid out the canvas and poles for Levi's tent, wishing it were simply an imbalance in status that bothered him so much.

Ever since the sparring incident, Levi had found himself itching to be close to her, restless whenever they were in close proximity. His fingers would twitch at his sides and his eyes would wander helplessly, searching her, examining every inch until he had her form guiltily memorised, but he had always maintained some distance. He had deliberately kept Hange at arm's length, in spite of every screaming, feral instinct that begged for the opposite. His own apparent lack of control unnerved and frustrated him. Levi had been very careful, until now, not to put it to the test.

They set up the tent in very one-sided conversation. Hange chatted endlessly as they worked, and Levi offered her half-assed grunts and monosyllabic responses until she ceased expecting anything from him at all, and talked continuously instead. Levi ground his teeth when her hand brushed his to pass him the hammer, her fingertips rough and warm, electric where they grazed his palm.

They had limited room to manoeuvre, within the tent. Hange laid their mats and blankets inside, and Levi managed to wedge both of their bags down where their feet would go, but the tents weren't designed for two sleepers—they were compact little things, just long enough and narrow enough for one well-built soldier. He eyed the mouth of the tent, and then slid his gaze sideways to where Hange stood, stooped to peer in as well.

"It'll be a squeeze," she said, straightening up. She jammed her hands on her hips and grinned at him. "But we'll manage."

Levi scowled. "Eat shit."

Hange seemed as unbothered as she ever was by his churlish response. She stretched well, her arms reaching high towards the pink sky, as though already preparing for the long, cramped night ahead. Levi followed the line of her body from her feet right up to the tips of her fingers; her long, lithe, lean frame was only accentuated by the belts of her gear, and Levi noticed for the first time how tight they were against her. They pinched into her thigh, the muscle bulging between the thin leather straps. Levi's mouth watered with the unbidden urge to sink his teeth into the firm flesh. He swallowed reflexively, and pulled his gaze away from her legs and up to her face, where, to his mortification, he found Hange watching him with a curious tilt of her head.

"Something wrong?" She asked. Levi curled his lip and turned away quickly to hide his flush, stomping towards the stone pit and throwing a few sticks into it to start a fire.

The evening passed strangely. Time seemed to drag on, caught between pointless conversation, listening to Hange talk animatedly with her squad while his own team listened with rapt attention over their steaming bowls of stew. It was, at the very least, a good excuse to watch her. It wasn't so obvious that he was staring when Hange was the centre of everyone's attention. And then, all too soon, the sun had fallen beyond the horizon and the sky had grown dark, lit by the pale glow of a full moon, and the soldiers were retiring to their own tents.

Hange stayed up to clear the dishes. She had waved away her squads proferred help, but it felt rude to go to bed without her, and so Levi squatted down beside her and wordlessly began rinsing the leftover bowls.

"You don't have to," Hange said, though gave no objection when he fished the bowl from her hand and dipped it into the pail.

"You'd do a shit job on your own," he said gruffly. He ran his thumbs around the inside of the shallow dish, sweeping greasy residue from the polished wood. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hange green. She shifted in her squat, settling by his side and taking the bowl when he held it out for her, running a grotty towel over it. Levi scowled. He wanted to berate her for using the dirty fabric on freshly washed dishes, but then she moved again, and her knee nudged into his own, and all decent thought was wiped abruptly from his mind.

Stupid, how such simple contact unbuckled him so easily. Her knee was warm through the fabric, and pressed more firmly against his own whenever she shifted to pile the bowls into their crate. It took an inordinate amount of concentration for Levi to continue his task; he slowed considerably, taking his time to rinse each dish, focusing intently on the feel of the grain beneath his fingertips, the way carved wood sloped in a low curve and rose again, catching his nail on the thin lip around the rim of the bowl. Anything to keep his mind occupied, to keep his thoughts from straying.

Hange hummed contentedly as she worked. The crackling fire was dimming, embers glowing bright in the darkness, and there was a constant, low hum of chatter as the soldiers readied themselves for bed. In any other circumstance, Levi might have called the atmosphere peaceful.

But the dishes were almost done. The food had been packed and hiked up a height, safe from any scavengers. The tents were set, and the first watch had settled at their posts. There was nothing peaceful at all, about the prospect of what was to come next.

Hange straightened up when the last dish was dried and packed, hefting the crate up into her arms. It must have been heavy, loaded with pots and pans, bowls and utensils, but Hange lifted it with little more than a quiet grunt as the weight settled in her arms. Levi's gaze caught on her hands. Long, thin fingers, rough and dry from manual labour and a chronic lack of self care. Veins webbed from her knuckles to her wrists, over her forearms, disappearing beneath the turned cuffs of her sleeves where she'd rolled them up. She gripped the edge of the box, her knuckles white under the strain.

"Thanks," Hange said. Levi blinked dazedly, and rolled his eyes up to her face. She blew a few loose strands of hair from her eyes and smiled brightly down at him. "I'll put these away and then we can settle for the night."

Levi's stomach knotted. He nodded mutely, straightening up and dusting himself down as Hange loaded the crate onto the cart, securing a tarp over it. Without her cloak, Levi could see the curve of her ass as she bent forward, accentuated by the leather straps curving beneath each cheek. He bit the inside of his mouth and turned away, painfully aware of the growing tightness in his groin.

Hange met him outside the tent. They stared into the mouth of it for a long while, silent. For Levi's part, he was prolonging the inevitable. Spending the night pressed up against Hange in a tiny one man tent was the stuff of his every fantasy; feeling the length of her body flush against his own, long, strong legs tangled with his, hearing her every breath panted in his ear. It was exciting. Tantalising.

It was also his worst fucking nightmare.

The Hange in his fantasies was a very different person to this Hange, who stood at his side, blissfully unaware. For all her smarts, Hange had failed to notice exactly what she did to him. She treated him like she did anybody else, all bright smiles and casual touches, ignorant of all the nights Levi spent with his hand down his pants, fisting his cock to the thought of her.

"Which side do you want?"

Levi rolled his eyes to the side, though he barely dared to look at her. He didn't much care either way. Finding comfort was going to be an impossible task, regardless of which side he slept on.

"Left," he said anyway. Hange nodded, and began toeing off her boots. Levi did the same, setting them just under the canopy in the slim chance it rained, and crawled quietly into the tent, flopping straight onto his side with his face to the canvas. He waited with his breath held for Hange to climb in behind him, but was met instead with the metallic click of buckles outside. Against his better judgement, Levi looked up.

Hange had already unfastened the strap across her chest and detached the back panel of her gear. She deftly unbuckled the belts at her hips and her thighs until they were loose enough, and then she wiggled, shimmying out of the leather harness. Levi choked. He covered the little noise with a gruff, "Oi. The hell are you doing?"

Hange looked up at him. Bent forward the way she was, her hair fell haphazardly about her face, messy and unkempt as ever. She blinked at him through her fringe, and cocked her head.

"Hm? Taking my gear off."

Levi scowled. "I can see that, shit head. Why?"

"...so I can...sleep? Comfortably? Like a normal person?"

She looked down again, stepping neatly out of the leather pooled around her feet. She tucked the straps under the canopy with their boots, and then, to Levi's horror, she unfastened the button on her pants, and pushed those down her legs, too.

"Hange," he hissed, barely averting his gaze. He was thankful for the darkness. The heat in his face was unbearable; the moonlight would hide his blush, at least a little. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"It's hot," she said. She ducked into the tent, stuffing her discarded pants down by their bags. "I'll sweat if I keep those on."

She was still kneeling in the mouth of the tent. Levi flashed his eyes to her, intent on keeping his gaze up, towards her face, but Hange's fingers were making quick work of her button-down shirt, and the fabric was beginning to splay open, revealing smooth skin, and the wrappings around her breasts.

"For fucks sake," he grumbled. He threw himself back onto his side, scowling at the canvas.

"What?"

"Have some fucking decency," he bit out. To his immense irritation, Hange only laughed.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she said. Which was true, technically. But Levi had pictured far more than this, far more than she could ever imagine, and the guilt of that sat heavy in his gut.

Levi lay stiffly as Hange finally clambered into the tent. She pulled the flaps closed, knotting the straps together tightly, and then flattened herself out over the mat and let out a long sigh.

"What a day," she mused quietly. Levi felt her shift behind him, and heard her small, strained groan as she stretched. Levi had wedged himself as close to the side of the tent as possible, but he could still feel her, brushing at his back whenever she moved.

He kicked his foot back, finding her calf and shoving her away. "Stick to your own side," he said, nudging her again. Hange kicked him back and she had the audacity, again, to laugh at him.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," she said, and Levi felt her move again. Her finger poked into the middle of his back. "But this tent is a little too small for sides. We'll just have to make do. I should warn you, I'm a hugger."

"Hug me and you're sleeping outside," Levi snapped. Hange snickered.

"You'd make a lady sleep out in the open?"

"Some lady. Stripping in a tent with a man."

Hange snorted, then made a dismissive noise, and Levi could picture her waving him off. "It's just you, so it's fine."

Levi frowned. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, and whether he was supposed to be offended by it or not. Either way, it wasn't fine. It was so fucking far from fine.

"I suppose I'm not much of a lady, anyway," Hange said, almost absently. Levi grunted his agreement. If she had expected him to refute her, she didn't sound at all disappointed by his lacklustre response. She laughed quietly, and shifted again. Her body felt hot at his back, too close. "Say, Levi?"

"What."

"Do you like women?"

Levi thought guiltily of Hange and his every sordid fantasy, every wayward thought he'd had about her of late. Did he like women? It was hard to say. Levi had never given it much thought before. He'd had sex, a handful of times, but his experiences had not been limited to women, and none had been borne of any distinct attraction. Before Hange, Levi had never particularly desired any one person.

"None of your business," Levi said, in lieu of a proper answer.

Hange huffed behind him. He could picture that pout of hers, the comical, exaggerated jut of her lip, and quick as a flash it was gone again, replaced by a grin that reflected perfectly in her tone when she said, "I'm curious. For all we've talked, I don't know a whole lot about you."

"Stay curious."

"Gaaah, you're no fun, Levi," she drawled. Levi felt her loom closer behind him. He snatched up one of the blankets lumped beneath them and yanked it free, pulling it over himself. It was a thin barrier, but a barrier nonetheless.

Hange must have taken the hint. She said nothing more, but she tossed and turned for a long while as she tried to get comfortable, sighing and huffing in the heat.

Levi was acutely aware of her presence. It set him on edge, body stiffening every time she so much as twitched behind him. His brain worked in overdrive, listening for every little noise outside the tent, or counting the stitches along a seam in the canvas, anything to avoid thinking about Hange. She was so, agonisingly close, and in the confined space he could smell her, salty and earthy as usual, and he could hear her breathing, settling into a long, slow rhythm as she fell into sleep.

It was too easy to imagine a million different scenarios. How simple it would be to roll over now, cover Hange's half bare body with his own. To nudge her legs apart with his knee and settle into the cradle of her thighs, kiss her lips—softly parted as she sleeps—and rouse her awake. He could so vividly imagine the way she would feel, hot and wet through the thin fabric of her underwear, pliant against the press of his cock as he grinds into her. It would be so easy. Too fucking easy.

He shook the thought from his head, curling his hands into tight fists. He felt too hot, a little dizzy in the cramped space. His cock was hard, and Hange made a soft sound in her sleep, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Levi bit his lip and turned his face into his pillow. Torture. That's what this one; some cruel punishment, and Levi suspected he deserved it, the way he had been thinking about her lately.

He willed himself to calm down, breathing evenly, deeply. His eyes stung, itching with tiredness, but his every muscle was too tense, on edge. And whenever sleep threatened, his mind wandered,  straying dangerously to thoughts of Hange, her bright smile and the lilt of her laughter as Levi pins her down, her wrists clamped above her head in one of his hands. The tent is small and cramped and Hange's breath misted on his face as she giggled, sweet and lilting, breaking into a moan when Levi slid his hand down between them, over her belly, beneath the waistband of her underwear.

He jolted awake again. Cursing quietly, he shifted, adjusting the crotch of his pants to alleviate some of the pressure. Sleep fogged his mind, pulling him under time and time again and teasing him with dream after agonising dream of Hange. Sometimes she was just looking at him, her head cocked in that curious way as she waited for him to speak, to do something. And sometimes her gaze was darker, low and hooded, and her hands and lips met him half way when he moved to her. Sometimes she was already putty in his hands, whining and writhing against the rumpled blankets, and sometimes the tight heat of her was frighteningly real, vice-like around his cock.

He woke again and again, sudden and disoriented. Struggling to shake the pictures from his mind before he tumbled back into sleep.

In the next dream, Hange was pressed snug up against his front. He was molded to the curves and contours of her body, his knees wedged into the crook of her legs, hips flush to her ass, his chest to her back. Her hair tickled his nose, and he tucked his face into the nap of her neck to escape the feathery feeling. She felt so warm against him, and the curve of her ass was soft against his cock. He was sleepy, in this dream, drifting in and out of consciousness, but Hange's body was a constant, pressed tightly back into his front.

She shifted against him, wriggling her hips back, and Levi snaked an arm around her waist to pull her in tighter. His hips pressed forward, slow and lazy; she felt good on his aching cock, deliciously pliant. He let out a breathless moan against her neck, and Hange made a quiet, pleased sound in return.

The pleasure built slowly, this time around. Levi was in no hurry, content to sleepily rut against her. Hange's breathing picked up some, shorter and shallower, broken now and then with tiny, thready moans when Levi ground harder into her. He flattened his palm on her belly—the skin was softer than he'd ever imagined before, smooth and hot, twitching beneath the tickle of his fingertips. A memory swam forward, of Mike, all those months ago, pinching so easily at her side, and he wondered if Mike had ever touched her like this. The thought reared something ugly and possessive in him. His fingers dug into her skin, dragging her back, and his mouth nudged against the skin of her shoulder, teeth scraping there. Hange gasped, but made no move to pull away.

He could taste the sweat on her. Her skin was gritty on his tongue from the dry, dusty air. It should have been unpleasant, maybe, enough to turn him off, but Hange tilted her head against the pillow, exposing more of her neck to him, and Levi obliged helplessly.

"Ah, Levi..." She breathed his name like a prayer, quiet, but it boomed in the cramped tent. Levi's cock jumped, hips flexed. He nipped at her again, revelling in the way his name had sounded, spilling almost silently from her lips.

Everything was so vivid. The way she tasted, the way she felt. Her quick, panted breaths and the quiet little whines that bled through, bitten off to keep quiet—sensible, Levi thought, sucking a bruise into the crook of her neck. They were in a tent, after all. Anyone could hear them.

Except, Hange had never bothered keeping quiet before, in his other dreams. She had been incredibly vocal, whether she was laughing, or moaning, or crooning obscenities in his ear. He had never been able to taste her, either. Never felt each grain of dirt on his tongue.

He blinked groggily.

Moonlight crept through thin spots in the canvas where the seams connected. The spilled like light through a cracked door, slanting into the tent, but Levi's view of it was obscured by a head of messy brown hair.

He blinked again.

Hange—Hange, real and whole, not a dream—was pressed flush to his front, and she was panting breathlessly, her stomach rising and falling sporadically beneath his hand where he held her tight. She squirmed, and Levi bit off a groan. He was hard. Painfully hard, cock wedged against Hange's ass.

"Shit." Levi's voice was thick and hoarse from sleep and arousal. He moved sluggishly, pulling his face away from her neck, the beginnings of shame and disgust roiling in his gut. What had he done? Lost control, is what he'd done, humped his comrade—his superior—like a dirty fucking dog. An animal. "Shit. Fuck. Sorry, Hange—"

He had tried to slide his hand from her waist, but Hange caught him about the wrist and held him tightly. He stilled, frozen. Her grip was firm, but not painful. Levi wouldn't have blamed her for crushing his wrist if she'd wanted to. He deserved that much. But she didn't, just guided his hand back to her belly, and pressed until he splayed his fingers against her again. She wriggled, and Levi muffled a sudden grunt against her back; the move teased his cock mercilessly.

"Sorry," he said again, reflexive. He felt Hange shake her head.

"It's fine. It's—" she moved again, more insistent, this time. Levi's hips curved helplessly forward, seeking pressure, friction, and Hange let out a shuddering breath, pushing back to meet him. She bit back another sound. Levi's fingers curled at the noise, pads pressing into the soft skin of her stomach.

"Fuck," Levi said again. This couldn't be happening, couldn't be real. Only in his wildest fucking fantasies could he have Hange like this. But it was real. The way she rolled her hips back was real, and the soft, barely contained sounds bleeding out of her were real, and the way she gripped his wrist again, pushed his hand down this time, low, lower, until he was cupping her over her underwear—that was so very real.

"Shit, Hange," Levi breathed. He ran his fingers over her. She was wet, drenched through the fabric, heat radiating from her and her hips shuddered when Levi stroked a line over her, breath jumping. She took him by the back of the hand and moved him where she wanted her, applying pressure—just as brazen as he'd imagined her to be. He let her lead him, circling over her clit in a way that made her tremble, body curling in on itself. She whined, turned her face into the pillow to muffle the sound.

Levi curled with her. He bit at her shoulder again, delighting in the way it made her tremble while his fingers worked her over.

He had imagined this more times than he could count. Far more than he'd ever care to admit. The way she would feel, the way she would sound—the way she would look. He couldn't see her like this, with her face buried in her pillow, and he was struck by the sudden urge that he wanted to. Hange might regret this in the morning, she might hate him for it. If she was giving him this one chance, he wanted to make the most of it.

He pulled his hand from between her legs and raised himself up. Hange gave a disappointed whine, turned her face to look at him as he moved over her, hovering.

She blinked tired eyes up at him. She looked just like Hange always looked, sans glasses, with her messy hair and chapped lips and dirt smeared on her skin, but the streak of moonlight cast her in a soft, pale glow, glinting in her eyes and catching on the soft pink of her cheeks. The effect was so jarring it made him pause. He froze staring down at her, until Hange moved to lie on her back, and her hands crept up to his waist, pinching into his shirt.

"Why'd you stop?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper. It's such an innocent question, and Hange said it so simply, as though she were asking for something as innocuous as a massage, like Levi hadn't been dry humping her in his sleep. He dipped low, eyes darting over her face, falling again and again to her lips. Dry, cracked, stupid fucking lips.

Levi moved closer. Hesitated. He gave Hange time to move, if she wanted to, to push him away, but she watched him with that infuriatingly calm gaze, and Levi's composure broke.

He kissed her like he was angry with her. He was, in a way; angry that she had insisted on sharing a tent, angry that she had stripped down to her underwear right next to him, like it was nothing. Like it would have no effect on him. Angry that she looked the way she did, sounded the way she did, angry that he could never quite get her out of his head. Their teeth cracked painfully, but Hange opened her mouth to him readily, her tongue licking quick and sharp behind his teeth, against the roof of his mouth. She kissed him back like she had been starving for it. Levi allowed himself a moment to wonder (hope, maybe) that she had been.

He nudged her legs apart with his knee. She shifted easily, making space for him to settle between her spread thighs, and Levi felt the hitch of her breath when he touched her again, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her underwear this time. He thumbed at her clit, rubbed his fingers over her opening, and Hange canted her hips into him, hissing her yes against his lips.

It's a funny thing, how loud every little thing becomes when quiet is a necessity. Hange's ragged breathing echoed like thunder, every hitch and start painfully audible in the quiet night. The rustle of the sheets and the wet, smacking sound of his fingers fucking into her, sloppy, sucking kisses and Levi's own breath, shaking and dragging rough in his throat, all of it was unbearably loud. He kissed her soundly, swallowing her moans, trying to keep her quiet. The others should be sleeping, and the watch stations were a little way from the campsite; they should be fine, but Levi wasn't willing to take the risk. The last thing he wanted was word of this indiscretion getting around, getting back to Mike or Erwin. Great big bastards with their stupid smug looks. He couldn't stand even the thought of it.

He bit at her bottom lip and Hange whimpered, her hips rolling up into his hand, seeking more from his fingers. He nipped at her again. His cock jumped at the sound she made. He dragged his lips from her mouth to her jaw, scraping his teeth along the sharp line of bone there, and down to her neck, where he sucked the skin up and laved his tongue over it.

He kissed down to her collar, her chest, running his lips over the top of the wrapping there. One of Hange's hands settled on his shoulder, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, and the other sunk into the hair atop his head, tugging enough to sting.

He had predicted Hange to be a demanding thing in bed. Still, it surprised him when she began pushing him down, past her chest, her belly, guiding his face between her legs. He stopped there and scowled up at her, waver her hand away from his head where she had been shoving him.

"Brat," he hissed. Hange grinned lazily down at him, evidently proud of herself. Levi was less than gentle when he gripped her hips and hiked her right up the length of her mat, until the top of her head bumped into the canvas, so that he could settle between her legs more comfortably. Maybe, in another circumstance, Levi might have teased her. Drawn this out more. Took his time with her, exploring every inch of skin from ankle to hip with his tongue and lips and teeth, bite marks into the soft, scarred skin. But Hange was persistent, demanding. Her fingers threaded back into his hair as Levi pulled her underwear down and she tugged him in insistently, anging her cunt up to his mouth.

Up close, Levi could smell her; heady, dizzying. He nuzzled his mouth and nose into her, the tip of his tongue drawing a line up the seam of her, circling her clit before he cupped his lips around her, sucking gently. Her hips bucked up and a shaky, unsteady moan bled out of her.

"Shut up," Levi warned, muffled. He slid his hands under her ass, gripping her cheeks and pulling her hips closer to his face.

He made a meal of her, like he had done in every daydream, every fantasy. Lapped at her, sucked at her, drank her down, and Hange writhed and panted just like he'd always thought she would, desperate against him. She had a hand clamped tight over her mouth but it did little to quiet her, and her hitched, stuttered breathing carried loud in the quiet night.

"Shit, Levi," she groaned, strained, when he crooked two fingers into her. "That's—yeah, like—like that, oh fuck."

Levi hummed quietly against her. He could feel her throbbing beneath his lips and tongue, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She breathed quick and harsh, chanting his name in a whisper that grew in pitch, and then she stifled, silent, beautifully taut, before the pressure snapped. She came with a short, sharp cry, too loud, her body shuddering and twitching as Levi worked her through, swallowing the rush of fluid on his tongue.

He pulled away, rubbing his mouth against her thigh to wipe some of the wetness away. "Too fucking loud," he muttered. He nipped at her trembling thigh for good measure before he drew himself up onto his hands and knees, and made his way back up her body.

Even in a situation like this, Hange offered affection easily. She greeted him with a happy, satisfied smile, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he crawled his way up to meet her, drawing him in dizzyingly close. She kissed him, just a peck, at first, gentle and bare, but when Levi pulled back, face sour as he said, "that's fucking gross, four-eyes," she laughed lazily and pulled him in again, licking at his messy lips and coaxing him into a something deeper. It should have been disgusting, with the lower half his face wet and slick, but the smell of her was heady in his nose, and Hange made low, quiet noises each time she sucked at his lip, tasting herself, and Levi couldn't really bring himself to mind.

Hange's hands roamed over his shoulders, down his back. She dug her fingers beneath the back plate of his gear and tugged it, huffing into his mouth.

"This is why I don't sleep in gear," she said into his mouth. "I want your shirt off."

Levi pulled back, straddling her hips and sitting up to unfastened the buckle across his chest.

"I don't think this is why," he said. Hange had already unfastened the straps at his hips, and had moved on to the main belt at his waist. He hissed when her knuckles brushed his cock through his pants, hips bucking forward involuntarily.

"Mm, maybe not. But it's a good side effect." Hange splayed her hands over his hips as he pushed the harness back and off. She smoothed her palms down his thighs and up again, content to simply watch rather than help as he unfastened the belts there.

It was awkward, kicking his way out of the leather in the tiny tent. Hange giggled at him the entire time, openly delighted at his struggle, and the smile didn't leave her face even as Levi put on his best scowl.

"Grumpy," she laughed. Her hands reached for his face when he folded back over her, her thumb smoothing the wrinkled skin between his brows. "Careful. If the wind changes you'll get stuck like that."

Levi scowled deeper, defying her pull on his skin, and Hange laughed again—too bright, too loud. He should have shushed her again, but something in her big, open smile, her brazen happiness, stalled him.

She drew him so easily into another kiss. Levi followed her down helplessly, stretching his legs out, nudging his way back between her thighs while her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. She pushed it back from his shoulders and ran her palms over the exposed skin of his back. He could feel every callus on her palms and fingers, the rough spots catching and scratching. The sensation made his hips twitch, and Hange laughed throatily every time, switching to scrape her nails from his shoulders and down his back. Levi hissed, biting her tongue.

"Sensitive," Hange mused. She soothed him, rubbing her thumbs in small circles while she licked long and slow into his mouth.

Levi had expected fucking Hange to be quick and rough, a desperate release after so much pathetic pining. He hadn't expected anything like this—not the soft touches, or the kisses, or the laughter. Not the way Hange's hands worked his pants open while she sucked on his tongue, pushing his pants and underwear down the length of his legs until she could reach no more. She brought her legs up and used her feet—disgusting—to shimmy them the rest of the way down. Levi kicked them off, and then the pair of them were bare save for Hange's breast wrappings. She seemed in no hurry to take them off. She hadn't sought his touch there, guided neither his hands or his mouth to her chest, but she must have caught him staring for she tilted her head, and looked down at the wrappings herself.

"I can take it off, if you want," she said. Levi's eyes rolled up to her face. For the first time, something uncomfortable reflected there. Something uncertain. Levi leaned down to kiss at the soft spot beneath her jaw.

"It's fine," he said. Hange let out a long sigh—relief, he suspected—and wound her arms around his neck.

It was Hange who moved first, spreading her legs and curling her thighs up against his hips, so that his cock brushed temptingly against her cunt. She nipped at his mouth, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard enough to ache.

"What're you waiting for? Fuck me," She muttered, running her tongue over his throbbing lip. Levi growled low in his throat and bit back, teeth gnashing, barely catching her tongue. She yelped and dropped her head to the pillow with an exaggerated pout.

"That wasn't sexy," she said. Levi shifted his weight onto one elbow and slipped the other hand between them. He stared, transfixed, at the way Hange's eyelids fluttered when his knuckles brushed her belly, her hips.

"Wasn't supposed to be," Levi said. "Was supposed to shut you up."

"Mission failed."

"I can fucking hear that."

Hange grinned, and Levi drew his fingers down to the joint of her thigh, gliding over the slick skin. Hange made an airy, breathless sound, when Levi took his cock in hand and pressed it up against her cunt.

Hange wasn't the type to beg. She'd showed him as much, dragging him here and there, taking what she wanted from him without hesitation. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, her eyes screwed shut, and her mouth fell open with a gasped, "please," and Levi didn't have the strength to deny her.

She felt fucking phenomenal. Maybe, if he'd had more control, more discipline, he'd have teased her. Pushed in a little way, let her feel the stretch and withdrew, fucked her with short, shallow, languid strokes until she was crying for more, for him to fill her so deep she could feel it in her gut. He'd have taken his time, savoured every small detail. But he was a desperate man, and he slid into her quickly and all at once, until they were flush together. Hange sucked a few frantic breaths at the intrusion and Levi buried a low moan in the crook of her neck.

"Fuck, Hange," he rasped. His voice grated in the quiet night, too loud. Hange wheezed in his ear, air shuddering in uneven bursts from her chest. Her nails raked into his skin. He drew his face up slowly, nose brushing along her cheek until he could look at her. She looked back at him through low, hooded eyes, lips wet and open. "You good?"

Hange nodded. She snaked her hands up into his hair and pulled him down, into a kiss far softer than Levi had expected. "Good," she breathed. "Move."

Levi obeyed her without thought or question. Hange breathed ragged and open-mouthed against his lips, quiet, airy moans catching in her throat every time Levi's hips snapped forward. Every tiny sound rang out boldly in the quiet night; Hange's rough, staggered gasps and Levi's own panting breaths, grunts muffled behind clenched teeth; skin on skin, sharp and distinct, growing louder when Hange's blunt nails dug long welts into his back, when her legs curled up around his hips, urging him on. Too damn loud, but it was impossible to care with Hange all but whimpering his name, kissing wet and clumsy at his lips.

Levi had fantasised about this moment more than he'd ever dare to admit, and still, he was woefully unprepared. He had expected her to be rough, demanding, dominating—and perhaps she would be without the dark and the quiet, without the flimsy illusion of privacy the tent afforded them. But she was quiet now, muffling her sounds into deep, dizzying kisses as Levi's thrusts faltered.

"Fuck," Levi hissed, gritting his teeth. "Gonna come."

Hange let out a throaty chuckle, her nails scraping up the back of his neck and into his hair. "Quick."

"Piss off," Levi grumbled. He snaked a hand between them, clumsily pressing against her clit—she aborted her snickering abruptly with a twitch and a throaty, surprised moan, and Levi watched as her eyes squeezed closed, face scrunched and mouth stupidly open. She looked ridiculous. Levi kissed her again.

"Hurry up," he muttered, stroking her faster, fighting to keep the sharp jerk of his hips even. "Come already."

Hange's second orgasm ripped from her more violently than the first. She came with a protracted moan, bordering on a sob, her nails digging painfully into Levi's back.

"Thank fuck," Levi said, voice tight as he gave in to the building tension, fucking into her too quick, too rough, too loud, and barely pulling out in time to spill over her trembling belly.

Levi collapsed beside Hange, laying heavily on his side. She lolled her head over to look at him, an idle grin spreading over her face.

"That wasn't what I was getting at, you know. When I said we should share a tent. Or when I took my clothes off."

"Or when you rubbed yourself all over me while I slept?"

"You started that." Levi huffed quietly, but said nothing in return. Hange sighed and stretched as much as she could in the cramped space. "Not that I minded. I was wondering if you'd ever do more than just look."

Levi shot her a questioning look. "Ah?"

Hange shrugged, rolling onto her side and curling an arm beneath her head. Like this, her knee brushed lightly against Levi's—her skin felt warm and soft as she slipped her legs to tangle effortlessly with his, shuffling closer. Her smile was soft and easy, but there was something mischievous in the pinch of her eyes.

"You're not all that subtle."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hange said, leaning forward and whispering, conspiratorial, "that maybe you shouldn't stare so much if you don't wanna get caught."

With nothing to say to defend himself, Levi kissed his teeth and knocked his forehead against Hange's a little harder than necessary. He pulled back, and watched with some satisfaction as Hange scowled, rubbing at her aching brow.

"You know, you've got a funny way of showing affection," she said, pouting.

"Who said I'm being affectionate?"

Hange pointedly ignored him. She wiggled impossibly closer instead, and Levi watched her with equal parts interest and trepidation as the smile on her face grew wider, and without warning, she lurched for him, arms squeezing around his waist and hitting him with enough force to knock him onto his back. He gusted out a heavy breath, while Hange wriggled around on top of him, adjusting to get comfortable. Something slimy, wet, and rapidly cooling smeared across his belly as she shifted, and Levi swore quietly.

"Oi," he hissed, knocking a closed fist to the top of Hange's head. "Stop moving. You're making a mess."

Hange only hummed, unbothered, and propped her pointed chin on Levi's chest, looking up at him with a disarming smile.

"Mmm, no, you made a mess. I'm just making it worse."

She shimmied more rapidly, and Levi grimaced, snapping his hands down to her hips to still her. "You're vile. Get up."

"No. I'm pretty comfortable—you're not as bony as you look, Captain."

Levi clicked his tongue. "Move, or I'll move you myself."

Hange squeezed her arms tight around his back and dug her chin into his chest. "Try your best. I'm stronger than I look!"

Levi glared down at her, took in the shine of her eyes in the low, pale light, and the smile stretching her cheeks, and flushed hot at the obscene, unwelcome urge to stretch forward and kiss her. Just kiss her. For no real reason other than she looked...nice, and he wanted to.

Instead, he wound his own arms around Hange's back, and with a heave, he threw both of them sideways, Hange's back hitting the floor with a thump. He used her moment of shock to sit up out of her grip and straddled her hips to keep her pinned, one hand planted squarely on her chest so she couldn't sit up while the other fished around for any discarded fabric that wasn't his own clothes. He scooped up Hange's shirt and wiped at her belly with it, clearing up the mess of sticky, drying come, and then wiped himself down.

Hange let out an indignant squawk. "Is that my shirt?"

"It's not mine," Levi said. Hange opened her mouth to say something else, something loud, probably, given the great lungful of air she sucked in, but before she could yell Levi dropped the soiled fabric over her face, and he watched with his teeth clamped onto the inside of his cheek as she scrambled to pull it off.

"And you said I was vile," she huffed. Hange waved the messy shirt between them. "I have to wear this tomorrow, y'know."

Levi took it and set it to one side, as far away from himself as possible, and looked down at Hange with a half shrug.

"Now it's about as nasty as the rest of you."

"Well now you're just being mean."

Levi shuffled off of her. It was awkward, redressing in the confines of the tent, with Hange snorting whenever he bumped into the canvas. But there was something about the ease with which she sprawled herself over the mat, head pillowed on her arm, eyes glinting as she watched him, that felt oddly nice. Warm, and comfortable.

The feeling was foreign, but not unwelcome. Hange tucked herself in, shimmying her legs beneath one of the thin blankets, yawning widely as she did. The space between them felt oddly cold and empty now, without Hange's body pressed against his own. He shifted a leg until his knee bumped against hers, and Hange winked a sleepy eye open to look at him.

"What happened to staying to your own side?" She murmured.

"Tents too small for sides," he said. Hange grinned lazily, and leaned forward until her forehead brushed against his, tickling at his fringe. Entirely too close, but Levi found he didn't mind all that much.

The quiet and the closeness was relaxing, in a strange way. With his pent up energy expended and Hange's contagious enthusiasm doused by sleep, Levi's earlier tiredness crept back in, and soon enough he felt himself drifting too. He blinked heavily and watched Hange's face, slack as she slept on. Even now, something about her drew him in, though there was a new warmth in his chest now, a tightness that squeezed the air from his lungs.

Slowly, he reached up, and brushed Hange's unruly hair out of her face. She shifted minutely, turning into the touch. Levi stared at her as she settled, tucking her cheek down into the pillow, and a terrible thought occurred to him. And compared to this, wanting Hange in his bed seemed like a very minor issue.

"Ah. Shit."

Liking Hange is a much larger problem.

Levihan Fic Masterpost

Hi guys! I figured since I made a new tumblr account, it might be worth putting a post together with all my old levihan fics - just so everything is nice and easily accessible :) 

Three things to note: the first is that a lot of these were written back in 2015/16 when we had no idea what a post-Titans world would look like, so many things won’t line up with canon now. The second is that I switch between using she/her and they/them pronouns for Hange - each fic on AO3 is tagged appropriately so you can read to your own preference!! 

And lastly - I have a Kofi! All of your likes, comments, and reblogs are more than enough support, but if you have money to spare and would like to donate, I’d really appreciate it! 

—

Canon/Canon Divergent Setting 

Kiss It Better - 1.1k - sick fic! Hange gets a miserable flu and Levi is only a little sympathetic 

Of Promises Kept - 2k - set after A Choice With No Regrets - Hange takes Levi out for lunch 

Now I See - 1k - Post-titans fic in which Hange is blind 

One Final Salute - 1.1k - MCD warning - Levi and Hange visit the ocean for the first time 

Remember - 6.4k - Levi-centric fic from his childhood through to his time in the survey corps 

And He Always Will - 461 - drabble - MCD warning - There is a grave at the end of the lane.

Blue - 1.3k -  Blood/Gore and MCD warning - Levi tells Hange they are beautiful 

Storm - 2.4k - post A Choice With No Regrets - Hange offers Levi some comfort during a storm 

Fragile Thing - 2.2k - post Return to Shiganshina arc - Levi gives Hange a bath

Stuck (NSFW) -  7.2k - Hange gets stuck in a titan trap. Levi finds her. 

Good Fight (NSFW) - 4.6k - Levi watches Hange fighting. His reaction is…unexpected. 

Untitled (NSFW) - 7.7k - Sequel to Good Fight. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, Levi and Hange end up sharing a tent. Levi is frustrated. 

Onto Something - 5.1k - Erwin, Mike, Levi and Hange attend a ball, during Erwin and Mike make some observations about their abnormal pair. 

Keep Going - 7.4k - Post Return to Shiganshina arc - During some mundane, routine maintenance, Levi gets injured. He refuses to admit how bad it is until he can no longer hide it. 

—

Alternate Universe - University/College

I Was Happy in the Haze - 901 - Hange has a terrible hangover after an eventful night out 

I’m Still Fond of You - 1.2k - Levi is incredibly socially awkward, but Hange isn’t bothered in the slightest 

Ask Me/I Won’t Say No, How Could I? - 1.9k - Hange calls Levi for help 

Fifteen Minutes with You (NSFW) - 3.8k - Hange has been on Levi’s mind an awful lot lately 

Santa Baby (NSFW) - 1.8k - Levi promised Hange he would do whatever she asked of him. It may have backfired 

—

Alternate Universe - Other 

And the Morning (NSFW) - 1.5k - Levihan with a side of Erurihan - lazy morning sex after a heavy night 

Not a Damn Thing - 1.3k - high school AU - Hange is upset at Levi for reasons unknown, and Levi is unreasonably bothered by it

Red - 1.9k - Levi and Hange meet at the airport and bond over a book

Kiss - 2.4k - high school AU - Levi and Hange exchange a few first kisses 

Terrible Things - 3.1k -  MCD warning - Levi is in love with Hange. Life can be cruel and unfair. 

Somewhere Only We Know - 60.1k - high school AU/coming of age fic - Levi spends his summer in the country with some old family friends, and there, he meets Hange. 

Helplessly, Hopelessly - 4.8k - Childhood friends to lovers, university fic - Levi surprises Hange with a visit on New Years Eve. 

The Keeper’s Introduction - 3.3k - Time travel/Alternate universes - `Hange breaks into Levi’s house in the middle of the night and spins him a very strange story

Come to Me - 2k - high school AU - Hange helps patch Levi up after a fight 

Summer Wine - 4.1k - childhood friends/high school AU - Levi and Hange share a drink under the stars. 

Untitled - 1.7k - Office AU - Levi is a quality analyst and Hange is an agent with zero regard for the rules. 

Worth A Thousand Words - 7k - childhood friends AU - Levi likes photography. Hange discovers a secret facet to his favourite hobby. 

Surprise - 3.7k - Hange finds out some unexpected news, and frets over the next step. 

Off the Record - 3.4k - actor/journalist AU - Levi is a famous actor and Hange is a journalist who causes him nothing but trouble. 

Misdiagnosis (NSFW) - 8k - modern/friends with benefits AU - Hange attempts to diagnose a mysterious illness, the symptoms of which keep cropping up around a certain someone

Chance Encounter - 5.1k - modern/university AU - Levi and Hange meet on a crowded train station platform. 

Levi's regrets in manga 136 - LeviHan's IF

*

This is a manga analysis. Levi and Hange's dynamics in the animation and the manga differ drastically.  

If you believe there is more to their story as well as their individual character development than meet the eye, I highly advise you to ditch the animation for the manga. With all due respect to Mappa, but the final season erases almost every romantic hint between Levi and Hange, along with the twists in their story arcs.

Please brace for a ride. LeviHan in the manga is as complex as it is captivating. The complexity is further muddled with sloppy translations. I will provide the original Japanese versions of key lines where necessary.

*

Previously, before the forest scene, Levi was bent on killing Zeke to avenge his fallen comrades, fulfilling his oath to Erwin.

The first time Zeke escaped, Levi reaffirmed his oath to Erwin on the rooftop, and laid Erwin to rest.

The second time Zeke escaped, Levi was severely injured, and Hange came to his rescue.

Hange held Levi to her chest, jumped into the river and fled to a forest.

*

Let's begin with the forest scene in chapter 126. It is a turning point in Levi's oath arc.

Levi was already awake when Hange attended to his injury. In an intimate moment, he cracked open his good eye to look at her when she wasn't aware.

He was quietly listening to Hange, as he always did.

Hange speculated that Zeke planned to use Eren's Titan power to inflict catastrophe. Later, on the aircraft, Levi told Pieck that killing Zeke might end the Rumbling. The Rumbling did cease briefly after he chopped off Zeke's head.

Hange was also concerned about their fate as the last two veterans of Survey Corps. The only option for survival seemed to be running away and abandoning their duties.

Lastly, and most importantly, unaware that he was listening to her the whole time, she murmured:

"Why not we live here together, Levi?"

In Japanese culture, living together usually suggests romance or a relationship.

Note the white bar right under this panel.

It's a timer bar, indicating the passage of an uncertain, usually long, amount of time.  Given that Hange had rebuilt the broken cart by the time Levi sat up, I'd estimate at least an hour had passed.

The fact that Levi cracked open his good eye and clearly heard Hange's soliloquy — from her speculation about Zeke to her unintended confession — proves that he had been wide awake.

It makes me wonder what Levi was thinking while pretending to be asleep.

One could only speculate.

I believe Levi was most likely imaging — as anyone would after hearing a shocking suggestion — the scenario of abandoning their duties to live together, only to then remember his oath to Erwin.

This internal conflict explains why he remained motionless.

It was the sudden Rumbling sound and Hange's scream that stopped Levi's from continuing to feign sleep.  When their eyes met, he averted his gaze and asked about Zeke's whereabouts.

See how Levi tried to sound angry and eager to kill Zeke as a way to strengthen his determination, only after lying quietly there and allowing himself to be torn about this for such a long time?

Hange uncharacteristically blushed upon realizing that Levi heard her suggestion, which is another clue that "living together" goes beyond friendship.

Levi cheered Hange up, but didn't address her slip of heart. Then, Levi and Hange left the forest, seemingly determined to leave their ambivalent thoughts in the forest.

Killing Zeke, the right choice from the perspective of honor and duty, won this round.

Yet Hange's slip of heart clearly lingered in the back of Levi's mind.

When Levi overheard Hange and Pieck's conversation, which didn't involve him at all, he felt the need to comment on this.

This is extremely unusual and interesting.

When has Levi ever commented on others' love lives in the manga? The only time Levi remotely did so was years ago when Mikasa constantly prioritized Eren over their squad missions. As the squad leader, Levi said something along the line of, "I don't understand your obsession with him, but don't mess up this time."  

(We all know how that obsession began. On hindsight, Levi's confusion foreshadowed his own future romance. Hange took care of Levi the way Eren took care of Mikasa, sparkling Ackerman' romantic attachment of a lifetime. )

Back to Levi's unusual, unnecessary, unsolicited comment.

Note he waited a bit for Pieck to leave to make sure it was a private conversation between him and Hange.

Levi said:

相変わらず巨人とは片想いのままだなクソメガネ

It roughtly translates as:

Your love has been unrequitted only with Titans, four eyes.

There is a Youtube video explaining the Japanese grammar of Levi's line, its hidden romantic connotation, as well as his bold choice of word for "love". The English translation loses all the nuance.  

Besides, Hange's response isn't "I will charm her", but rather "We will become good friends". There is no romantic suggestion in her line regarding Pieck.

Simply put, Levi took the opportunity to express his feelings in an awkward and clumsy way. Unfortunately, Hange failed to pick up on that. I honestly think the look on Levi's face would have helped him be understood. But they stood with their backs to each other.

Fast forward to Levi and Hange's farewell.  

The Survey Corps slogan is 心臓を捧げよ, aka Devote the Heart, without specifying whose heart it is.

It is supposed to mean devoting one's heart — represented by one's fist — to humanity.   

（The gesture is based on human heart's anatomical structure: an individual's heart and fist are of similar size and shape.）

Levi's fist is Levi's heart.

In this iconic scene, Levi altered the Survey Corps' solute gesture to devote his heart to Hange, hence her shocked expression.

Hange, despite on the verge of tears, brushed it off with a laugh, pretending she doesn't understand the gesture. She left him to fulfill her duty as the Commander.

When meeting her fallend comrades in the Path, she heard Erwin say:

"Hange, you've fulfilled your duty."   

(duty , or 役目 in the original Japanese manga. Remember this word)

As for Levi, he had to stay strong as the last veteran to lead the squad.

But you can see cracks through his tough facade. Like, he couldn't bring himself to look at what happened to Hange outside the window. Pieck, arguably one of the most perceptive characters, noticed this.

Or, when he directed kids' attention away, buying himself a moment to let agony take over.

Levi was clearly in the depths of pain and loss, triggered by Hange's death.

He was thinking. At this point we are just not sure what exactly went through his mind.

Levi's thoughts were revealed three chapters later, in chapter 136, in the form of a monologue.

His thoughts, under an intimidating image of Erwin in his mind, revolve around duty (役目).

Yep, the exact same word used in Hange's after-death scene with Erwin in chapter 132. I circled out the word 役目.

Hange and Levi didn't dare to abandon their duties in the forest to live together; Hange eventually died for hers.

Erwin's intimidating face in Levi's mind was a reminder that he needed to fulfill his duty — to kill Zeke. By far Levi appeared compliant, which makes his inner thoughts even more shocking.

Let's examine his first monologue line：

俺達の役目は  あそこで終わりだったのかもしれない

It roughly translates as:

"Our duty .... may have ended there."

There: the moment he swore his oath to Erwin four years ago.

He wanted to dump his oath from the beginning !!!

Because it was this very oath that pushed him and Hange out of the forest, hence the grievance — or even resentment, I would say — towards the oath.

But abandoning the oath is not enough to prevent her death. In Hange's after-death scene, she complained to Erwin that being Commander was too tough.

Levi's next monologue line:

ガキ共をとど/海に届ける そこまでの役目だったとしたら

It roughtly translates as:

"We got those brats to the sea, if that's where our duty ended..."

Why end their duties at the sea？

Because after they reached the sea, Hange's burden as Commander grew increasingly heavy, eventually leading to her death.

Between Hange assuming the position of Commander and the expedition to the sea, things went quite smoothly. It only took a sour turn afterward.

In other words, Levi regretted not ending their duties four or three years earlier. He wanted to keep Hange alive and happy.

He wanted to live an alternative life with her.

Levi's next monologue questioned the inhumane side of Survey Corps' "devote the heart" indoctrination — the very tenet that drove Hange to go on the suicidal mission.

It was also the biggest reason Levi didn't dare to stop her: their fallen comrades were watching.

Remember her last words to Levi?

"You understand, Levi. I have a feeling.... It's my turn."

I will leave the detailed analysis for another day, but let's focus on Levi's regrets for now.

If you look at Levi's monologue in chapter 136 independently, on its own, it's beyond confusing, out of blue and out of place. Why would he suddenly think "our duty may have ended four years ago" in the middle of a deadly war?

The only logical explanation is that he had been ruminating on their duty the whole time.

Now we know what exactly went through Levi's mind.   

Fascinatingly, there are some other clues.

One lies in the name of this chapter -  心臓を捧げよ (Devote the Heart) -  a strong indication of the link between Levi's inner thoughts with his painful farewell to Hange in chapter 132.  

Another glaring clue lies in "duty".

Isayama sensei even used the same Japanese word 役目 for duty in chapter 132 and chapter 136  to imply that Levi's monologue on duty was triggered by Hange's death.

In fact, the image of oath swearing in Levi's mind is reverted to imply the 180-degree shift from commitment to regret.

Before Levi's injury and Levihan's forest scene: commitement

After Hange's death: regret

The table has turned.

Right after Levi broke free the shackles of his oath, Zeke appeared. Levi killed him with one swift swing of sword. No torture for revenge this time, unlike before.

The Rumbling stopped. As Connie supported an injured Levi,  he said: " It's not that I don't have regrets. But ... we stopped the Rumbling, it's the right thing to do, right?”

Connie doesn't have a story arc of regret or lack thereof.

It's more likely him voicing Levi's hidden regrets and Levi's changed intent in killing Zeke — not for revenge, but to stop the Rumbling.

It explains Levi's expression as he slightly looked up, staring into the void, clearly consumed by his inner turmoil with something or someone in his mind.

Levi wanted to end their missions years earlier for an alternative life with Hange. It's an IF scenario.

In essence, IF is to go back in time, making different choices.

In case there's any confusion about his regrets, he made it clear in his monologue that he doesn't regret letting Erwin go.

Well, Levi's syringe choice is another puzzle with a twist, no less stunning than the twist in his oath arc. I'd say it's a love letter from Levi to the woman with sparkling eyes, an innocent dream and a selfless spirit.

But the analysis may cause some controversy and wrath from certain fandoms, so please let me savor it for myself for now.  

*

LeviHan is a fascinating, heart-breaking and complete arc. Hange's part is comparatively clear, while Levi's part is more in the dark, requiring quite some efforts to piece together the whole puzzle.

I will probably write about the heart arc, later.   

In the final chapter 139,  Levi's last panel focuses on his scar.

The pain and regrets will never really go away, because of the "what ifs" — of what could have been with her.

Levihan Fics that will change your brain chemistry

134340 by JamJamho (I believe their tumblr has been deleted)

THE. METAPHORS. OMG. This fic had me starting to space for 15 mins out of pure awe. Its space,levihan, slow burn(?), idiots in love what else would you want from a fic? Jam has some other amazing works and make sure to read some of their other works!

Reverberation by alteirkay (her lovely tumblr @sayonarasanit )

oh my god this fic. once again had me stunning at like 3 am. Childhood best friends, coming of age and WITH ANGST AND MORE ANGST. Watching levi and hanges characters grow was smth else. I was crying by the end but i don't know if they were tears of joy or sadness. Is definitely in my top 5 maybe even top 3. Once again pls go read some of her other works they are all amazing.

Somewhere Only We Know by someonestolemyshoe (their amazing tumblr @someonestolemyshoes)

Gosh this fic was mind blowing rlly. also Noticing a pattern? I'm a sucker for coming of age. Probably on of the most creative fics I've read. A summer falling love teenager fic for sure. Spent a whole day reading it. Levis development this fic was smth else rlly. Def in my top 3.

Worth A Thousand Words again by someonestolemyshoes

Short (depends on ur definition of short it is like 7k) and Sweat. Again a coming of age! Levi takes photos of Hange their whole lifes dasicaly and it is just adorable. Soft with a tad bit of angst.

Rager Teenager by smallblip (her stunning tumblr @smallblip)

I always try to call this fic binary stars More Space and more Levihan! Meet Cute to a developing relationships has one of my fav lines in fanfiction. Was one of my first fics on ao3. I'm gonna call it a coming of age cause its a college AU.

Catch Me If You Can by fanmoose12 (her beautiful tumblr @fanmoose12)

A Friends to Lovers ish to Enemies to Lovers Fic, The banter with the characters (and not just levihan) are the my favorite thing about this fic. Had me SCREAMING. A good crime/detective fics.

Happy by Little Lasagne (Her brilliant tumblr @littlelasagne)

This fic is so adorable. Levi becomes less emotionally constipated and is a fire fighter who gets in the hospital for the smallest thing. Has my heart had me giggling the whole time.

Please support these amazing works and authors!!!

Enjoy!!!

Reckless Behavior - Part 2

Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë (Attack on Titan) Rating: Explicit. MDNI Warnings: Nipple play. Vaginal Fingering. Oral Sex. Unprotected Sex. Additional tags: She/Her pronouns for Hange Zoë on this one. Wordcount: 3k Read part one here >>This is smut. Minors please do not interact<<

Levi was a skilled man, but right now he was struggling with the small sphere that refused to leave the confines of Hange’s shirt. Of course, the button was just a scapegoat, the real culprits being his hands, which trembled in anticipation as they revealed new inches of her skin. 

It was conflicting. His mind wanted to savor this moment, to commit every gaze, sound, and touch to his memory. Levi wanted to hold time in his hands, unroll it like a ball of yarn so that each moment would last forever and tomorrow would always be one night away. His body, on the other hand, was taken with desire. The rampant beast that for long Levi had managed to stifle with layers upon layers of ‘It's never gonna happen’ was now thrashing fiercely inside him, threatening to burst its prison of flesh and devour the Squad Leader right then and there.

Levi let his forehead fall to her shoulder, overwhelmed by the dispute between the expectations he had built in his mind and the reality that his own flesh was imposing on him. The captain inhaled deeply, letting the smell of oily hair and old books wash over him.

The aroma had inhabited the captain’s desires for months now. It was difficult for Levi to focus on the Senior Officers’ meetings sometimes, especially after Hange picked up the habit of sitting next to him. A couple of minutes in and Levi's mind would be invaded by the image of himself buried in the crook of her neck. Erwin’s voice would fade in the distance as her panting and soft whimpers echoed in the corners of his mind. Levi thought, in those moments, what he wouldn’t give to know how it would feel to drown in Hange, what she’d look like while he was pounding into her, what she would sound like as she was coming around him.

His heart picked up the pace, fueled by the fresh memory of the delicious sounds Hange had been making for him so far.

He would find all of that out today.

As the thought occurred to him, the final button was undone.

Time slowed down as Levi took in the scene before him. Both sides of Hange’s shirt opened like a curtain revealing the skin of her neck, reddened in the places his tongue and teeth had explored just moments ago, some purplish spots proving his suctions weren’t as soft as he had believed them to be. She looked so fucked out already. Messed-up hair. Flushed cheeks. Red, swollen lips. Hange was the one against the wall, but her eyes were that of a predator that cornered its prey.

Her chest heaved up and down, and Levi was hypnotized by her breasts. Silky skin, lighter than her usual complexion, contrasted with the dark brown areolas that sat atop it. His mouth watered at the tempting sight. Even though they weren’t very big, Hange’s tits looked plump and heavy, like ripe fruits ready to be tasted. 

Levi wet his lips, eyes glued to her hardened nipples,  “Can I-”

“Yeah” She breathed out through a smile, and when his gaze lifted to meet hers, her grin faltered into a pitiful desperate expression “Please, Levi.”

A shiver ran across his skin, raising every hair on his body and making his cock twitch inside his underwear. He dove back into her, hands kneading at each of her breasts, lips locked around the velvety skin of one of the brown nubs. Hange’s fingers grabbed at his hair and her moans were music to his ears. Levi sucked thoroughly on her nipple, then let his tongue swirl around the flesh, before pulling on it with his teeth, which elicited a throaty “fuck” from her. He replaced his mouth with his fingers, moving his lips to the other side to do the same thing.

Levi wanted to protest when Hange let go of the firm grip she had on his locks, but the captain had a mouthful at the moment. Then, she started fidgeting a bit, one leg dancing between their bodies, then the other. When Levi finally let go of the task that was keeping him occupied, Hange was already shaking the remaining pant leg off of her feet. With a final kick in the air, the item of clothing flew away, landing on the floor near the wall adjacent to them. The shirt joined it next. So much for being careful not to wrinkle their uniforms…

But his mind didn’t stay long on the evidence of their rendezvous, not when Hange Zoë stood before him in nothing but panties. Not when she had that gorgeous wide smile that made him go to heaven and back every time he caught a glimpse of it. Levi stepped forward, one of his hands unceremoniously sliding down her stomach and right under the waistband of the undergarment. His eyes were fixed on her face as his fingers explored the outside, feeling the prickling of her thick bush and the way it contoured her slit, then the warmness inside, the frailness of that naked skin, and then-

Fuck.

So fucking wet.

Hange’s eyes fluttered closed and Levi melted away when his fingers finally dove in between her folds.

Her head fell onto his shoulder, her panting occasionally broken by a whimper, as Levi alternated between dipping his middle finger into the pool that gathered at her entrance and rubbing circles on her clit with his coated digit. Her lips were so close to his ear, every little gasp or moan falling into it and traveling straight to his cock, which he’d unconsciously started rutting against her leg. 

It felt so good.

A little more of this and Levi was sure he would make a mess on his uniform, and if the way Hange’s body was starting to wriggle was any indication, she was close too. 

Levi’s wish was to speed up his ministrations, have her come on his fingers, and then in any and whichever other way she’d like, but, for once, reason spoke louder. After all those months fantasizing about this, stroking himself late at night in the communal bathroom over the thought of the faces she’d make during her high, he couldn’t have Hange hiding in his neck when that finally happened. That wouldn’t do.

Still, it was hard to stop.

Levi let his finger slide down from her clit to push at her entrance, and the way her slick walls sucked him in had him lightheaded. Even though the captain was a disciplined man, It took him every ounce of restraint he had to remove himself from her. 

Hange started to protest but her words became mumbles and then silence fell as she stared at the digit disappearing between his lips. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed and he moaned at the tangy scent and the slightly salty taste of her. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispered, hoisting Hange up by her thighs and diving into a deep kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arms holding on to the back of his neck and his shoulder. 

Hange rutted her hips against his clothed cock, following the rhythm of their tongues, her warmness and wetness radiating even through the fabric.

Levi moved them away from the wall, turning around to let her fall onto the mattress, ass right at the edge of the bed. He pulled her panties down her gorgeous long legs, taking a minute to marvel at the sight of her glistening pussy before falling to his knees. 

He caressed Hange’s thighs, then pushed them down until they were flush against the mattress. Levi thanked the flexibility the Survey Corps training gave its soldiers as he watched her open herself as much as she could to him.

Hange shivered at Levi's kisses on her inner thighs and at the light circles his thumb traced on the sensitive skin near her knees. He made a path towards her hips and lay a final kiss on her slit. Only then he licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit. Levi closed his eyes for a second and he let out a throaty groan as he finally got a taste of her straight from the font.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, Four Eyes” he breathed against her pussy. “You’re so good.”

Hange arched her back away from the bed and grabbed his sheets as his tongue prodded at her hole. Then, she was arching in the opposite way, back pressed hard against the mattress, head up, fingers once again tangled in Levi’s hair, holding his head in place as his lips latched on to her clit, soft tongue alternating between flicking it up and down and making circles all around it. She seemed to like the circles best.

Levi sped up his pace, marveling at the sounds Hange was making for him. Her sharp breaths were slowly and steadily being replaced by moans, which grew louder and quicker at each roll of his tongue. As her back started to rise from the mattress once again, and as her hands pressed his head down harder against her pussy, he knew she was close. His eyes shoot up to her, ready to burn the image into his memory. Her face was red and sweaty, eyes shut tightly, mouth agape, lips so swollen and glossy from their kissing. Hange looked like a goddamn goddess and Levi was worshipping her the way she deserved.

Hange's moans became shorter and shorter building up until a drawn-out whimper took over. This was it. Levi pressed his tongue flat and hard against her clit, and her whole body tensed up under him. Her legs shivered and her thighs tried to rise from the bed, but Levi pushed them down with his palms again, his tongue now pressing small firm circles on her clit, dragging out her orgasm 'til the last drop.

Her whine morphed into an anguished cry of pleasure as Levi’s tongue gradually slowed down, still firm against her oversensitive nub. When he finally stopped, Hange was pushing his forehead away from her. He sat back on his ankles to watch her with a cocky smile on the corner of his lips, her arousal smeared all over his cheeks and chin.

“Levi,” Hange panted “I had no idea you could fuck like that.”

“I haven’t fucked you,” Levi stood up, then added: “yet.” 

His reply made her giggle, but as Hange sat on the bed and glanced at his pants, her eyes widened in silent panic.

Levi looked down to find his briefs and part of his open fly damp, with whitish stains starting to form in the drier parts. His blood froze during the split-second he believed he had cum in his pants just from eating Hange out, but, to his relief, it was the result of her rubbing against him earlier.

Given his natural clean-freak disposition, Levi would’ve thought something like this would annoy him, instead, it made his cock throb under the soiled pants.

“Sorry, Levi! I’ll get them cleaned when we-”

Levi took a step forward to hover over his colleague, one hand pushing her torso back to the bed, his knee nudging one of her legs to the side so he could shove his middle and ring fingers into her. Despite the abruptness of this intrusion, he slid in without resistance. Hange gasped and he cursed as her walls clamped around him. 

“Looks like you’re ready,” he said, making a hook movement with his fingers as he pulled them out. Levi removed his shirt and hung it on one of the pegs behind his door. He used his ruined pants to wipe his hands and face, then discarded them next to Hange’s clothes on the floor.

There were no barriers between them now, no secrets, Levi thought, as he stood naked between Hange’s legs. Her hands traveled up his abdomen, soft palms tracing his muscles, making him shudder under her light touch. She pulled him closer for a kiss while retreating to lay further back on the bed. When they reached their destination, she shifted her weight to the side, showing him what she wanted.

Levi obeyed, laying on his back as she positioned herself above him, legs on each side of his hips, wet pussy lips hugging his dick, pressing it against his stomach.

Hange started out slow, rolling her hips back and forth, the sway of her body so fluid it had Levi hypnotized. He tried to get a hold of her breasts, but Hange caught his wrists, trapping them behind his head. She lowered herself on his chest to lay little pecks on his lips, which soon became deep kisses. She moaned in his mouth each time his tip poked at her clit. 

Hange freed one of her hands to play with Levi's chest. He watched unblinking as she dipped her thumb and index finger in her mouth before trapping one of his nipples between them. She twiddled with nub and Levi couldn’t hold back his moans, the sensation completely overwhelming. 

“So sensitive,” she smiled down at him, and the sight was so divine Levi wondered if maybe he’d died and was in heaven. He was so entranced he didn’t have time to react when Hange guided him to her entrance and sank down.

“Fuck! Han-” his words melted into an incomprehensible mewl.

An eternity fantasizing during the Senior Officers’ meetings wouldn’t have prepared him for how fucking fantastic it felt to be inside Hange. She was impossibly tight and yet it was so easy to slide in and out of her. Hange didn’t give him time to get used to her grip, setting a steady pace from the get-go. Levi would occasionally snap his hips to meet her thrusts, and every time he did so her pussy clenched around him, making him see stars.

The best part was feeling all of this while watching Hange’s face contort in pleasure, her usually innocent big brown eyes, now half-lidded, shutting hard whenever he hit some secret spot deep inside of her. When her lips parted to let out a moan, he couldn’t help but capture them in a kiss, swallowing her sounds. The feeling of her tongue gliding through his somehow made the pleasure he was feeling skyrocket. If heaven felt like this, he didn’t care if he died tomorrow in the expedition.

His soul just about left his body when out of nowhere Hange tightened more than he thought possible around him. Levi looked up in confusion, only to find a mischievous grin on her face. She did that on purpose and oh fuck-

Again.

And again.

Hange kept this up, bouncing faster and faster on his cock. Indescribable pleasure built up in him, the sensation so intense and overwhelming that Levi didn’t even have it in him to moan. So he panted, louder and louder, quicker and quicker, until, with a final long squeeze Hange tipped him over the edge, and then he was shuddering, spilling all he had inside of her. 

They lay side by side for several minutes, first catching their breath, and then breathing silently. The mattress shifted when Hange propped herself to get up, but Levi got a hold of her wrist before she could leave the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going, Four Eyes?”

“To clean myself up” she replied, moving to leave the bed, but Levi wouldn’t budge. “What? I thought my tidiness would make you proud” She joked, getting an amused puff from him, but his hand remained in place.

“Stay. Please.”

Hange lay back again, facing him, and Levi sighed in relief. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to bury his face in the crook of her neck, his nose drowning in her hair. His lips found the shell of her ear to plant his confession “I wanna go again”, to which she replied with a chuckle and a light caress of his hands. A truer confession, however, would be that he simply didn’t want this night to end. 

“As much as I’d like to, I gotta be able to ride my horse tomorrow”

Right.

Tomorrow. 

His thoughts must have been made transparent by his expression because Hange’s playful demeanor changed to a serious one. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling in silence for long minutes.

“Do you think we’ll ever see this thing through?” She said, finally. 

He tilted his head to the side, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Titans. The walls. These expeditions” Hange elaborated, looking at the ceiling again, “I know these things take time, generations even, but I can’t help but wonder if we’ll see an age without Titans in our lifetime.”

“No.”

She smiled weakly at his honest reply and the expression looked so out of place on her face. Levi’s heart felt suddenly heavy. 

“I thought you liked your research.”

“I do, it’s just- wouldn’t you rather have a choice, Levi?”

He would, but having grown without the luxury of taking anything, not even sunlight, for granted, he knew better than to entertain false hopes. He should be honest.

“Maybe we have a chance,” is what Levi found himself saying, instead. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll kill every last titan outside of the walls or you’ll find some secret poison or come up with some incredible weapon that will wipe them out. Maybe tomorrow will be our last expedition.”

She smiled a strange smile, melancholic and complicit, her eyes reflecting exactly what he was feeling. It was a conversation without words.

Thanks for lying for me. Thanks for lying with me.

Hange turned on her side, this time with his back to him, and pulled one of his arms close to her chest.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

captain what are you doing?

How levi sees hange when torturing sannes

look at those levi's heart shaped eyes

rest in fucking pieces levi

BONUS:

More Moon Knight for the tl.

This one was a challenge, the face was complicated and the shadows were very strong which is a bit hard to do with tempera , and to top it all off i had the brilliant idea to paint it in my sketchbook which has pretty thin pages. So it was an adventure what can i say. I donno if i really caught his face that well but i tried my best.

RED FLAGS ║ PART 4

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: Steven disappears and you fall into a rabbit hole trying to decode Marc’s secret message. Or alternatively: Marc needs to communicate better. 

Rating: really gratuitous and detailed sex, writers are clearly super horny.

Warning/content: anxiety, spiraling thoughts, worrying about safety of a partner, clumsy sex-shanigans, the writers being way too obsessed with how freakin' beautiful Steven is.

Word Count: 8.1k

Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You can’t believe Steven’s gone.

Flinging the quilt aside, you leap out of bed and dash into the loo. Against all logic, you’re hoping that he’ll be standing in front of the sink with a  spare toothbrush in his mouth, ready to wish you good morning through a frothy toothpaste smile. 

He’s not. 

There’s no one here but you. 

Your home is a cramped studio flat with barely enough space for a bed, small sitting area, and an even smaller kitchenette. If Steven were still here, he’d be in plain sight, but somehow you find yourself turning cushions like some kind of madwoman. Inspecting every corner of the room, as if Steven might be hiding behind your washing machine like a goddamn leprechaun. 

There’s nothing. No note left on your kitchen counter. No clothing left behind. No promised breakfast. There’s not even a text message on your phone letting you know that he had to leave early for work. 

With shaky fingers and your heart beating painfully loud in your ears, it takes you three tries to unlock your phone and select Steven from the list of contacts. You lift the phone to your ear and hold your breath, staring blindly at the mess you’ve made of your flat as it rings and rings and rings.

Finally, there’s a click and then Steven’s cheerful voice in your ear, and for the briefest of seconds, relief rushes through your veins. 

“Hiya, this is Steven. I’m not in right now, but leave me a message, and I’ll ring you back as soon as I can. Laters, Gators.” 

You stare at the phone in disbelief. Bile rises until you can taste it, sharp and burning, on your tongue. 

Steven going missing out of the blue on you is hardly novel, but his random disappearances have never made you feel like this before. Experience dictates that Steven will come back safe and sound in a day or two (or a week or two). Right now, however, that knowledge does nothing to dull the panic clawing at your throat, and it takes you a minute before you realise why this is so much worse than all the times that have come before. 

In the past, the worst case scenario was that he’d ghosted you. One more wanker who’d decided to dump you without so much as a courtesy text. But now you know better. Steven wouldn’t do that. He’s not disappearing on you by choice. He’s gone because someone else, Marc has taken over. And taken him away.

Now, you’re pacing the length of your flat, nearly in tears, the worst case scenario something you cannot even begin to fathom. 

For all you know, this Marc person has decided that you’ve gotten too close to the truth. Maybe he came to the conclusion that it’s too dangerous to have you around Steven. Maybe, last night was the last time you’ll ever get to see him. 

Back and forth you go across the room, wearing down the carpet pile as your mind spirals with worry. You pop the band on your old wristwatch in and out of place as you go, nails digging into your wrist as you tug at it until you slip and the metal pin jabs your wrist. 

Then you spot it: the writing on your hand. The long string of numbers, ten digits in all, that Marc had written on the centre of your palm last night. 

In a mad scramble, you dig up a notebook and quickly copy them down for safekeeping. You spend the rest of the day trying to decipher their meaning. 

Your first thought is that it’s a phone number, but when you try dialling it, you get an automated message that no such number exists. 

Your next theory is that the numbers might be coordinates. But when you attempt to plot them using an online grid reference finder, the results are meaningless. Depending on how you input the digits they point you to a handful of different locations—China, Romania, the middle of the Celtic Sea—none of which mean anything to you. The majority of the number combinations you try do not exist at any known map locations.

Panicked by your failure, your mind scrambles for other possible explanations. Thinking that it might be a mathematical equation or a password of some kind, you pull out your calculator and another notebook, trying to make any sort of sense of the only hint you've been given.

By the time you leave for work Monday morning, your desk is starting to look like a landfill. The wooden surface is littered with crumpled up paper and sticky-notes filled with nonsensical scribbles of numbers and letters that were the results of randomly adding, subtracting and dividing the ten numbers on your hand. If anyone walked in on your flat, they would think you’re a particularly unhinged conspiracy theorist. 

In all fairness, they wouldn’t be too far off, because you’re beginning to feel a bit like one. Haring off on one pointless wild goose chase after another, halfway to plotting out your suspicions on the wall with pins and string.

More days go by, and you spend every waking moment (and many moments you should be sleeping) trying to solve the mystery. It becomes a consuming obsession. You’re distracted both at home and at work, your poor coworkers forced to pick up the slack while your mind stays firmly on the puzzle of Steven.

Your lack of sleep leads to increasingly wild theories. You’re convinced that those ten digits are somehow the key to everything. An unfounded belief based on nothing but your own desperate hope that if you manage to crack the code, a congratulation banner and confetti will fall from the sky with a big bow-wrapped present containing Steven as the final prize. 

Unfortunately, you’re not the best at puzzles, and the galling irony is that the most qualified person to solve this riddle is the very same person you’re desperately missing. 

By the time you leave work on Thursday, you’re frustrated, exhausted from sustaining a near-frantic level of worry, and no closer to finding a solution than you were at the start. Steven is still out there somewhere, and you decide that you’ve waited long enough. Maybe even too long. He could have had his kidney harvested and be half-dead in an alley for all you know. Hurt and dying, while you’ve wasted time grasping at straws.

You’ve decided to finally file a missing person’s report with the police when you exit the tube to find a new text notification on your phone.

+x xxx xxx xxxx He’s safe.

You stare at the message for a long time, too overcome with relief to immediately make the connection between the numbers on your hand and your phone screen. When the epiphany hits, you feel like the dumbest person alive. Ten numbers… It wasn’t a puzzle or some obscure treasure hunt to lead you to Steven. It’s Marc’s bloody mobile number. It’s an American mobile number and he didn’t include the fucking country code 

He’s safe. Steven’s safe. 

Wiping what is close to the beginning of tears on your sleeve, you pull the phone closer and type out a message in reply. 

You Is Steven okay? Where is he? 

There’s no answer. 

Not that evening or the day after. And the relief you felt at first slowly drains away.  

The text is a consolation prize. It’s not Steven wrapped with a bow and wrapping paper. This is not the answer you needed, but, you try to remind yourself, at least it’s something. 

Steven is safe. 

You repeat it like a mantra in your head, and it gives you some comfort… for a while. Soon it's overtaken by an intrusive voice asking a question that you don’t want to hear. 

But what if he isn’t?

Any residual consolation you were feeling gives way, and anxiety overwhelms you as you imagine all the terrible scenarios that could have befallen Steven, each more horrifying and improbable than the last. 

You can't shake the paranoia that the matching numbers are just a coincidence. There's nothing in the text itself that says it’s from Marc. Or about Steven. It could just as easily be a timely telephone scam. 

Is there anyone who hasn’t received a random automated call informing them that someone they know has been in a car accident? There are thousands of these calls a day in the UK, scammers hoping to find some dimwit waiting for a call from a loved one. 

Maybe today, you’re the dimwit. 

You can count the hours of sleep you’ve gotten since Steven disappeared on one hand. 

You need to sleep, but even as exhausted as you are, you just can’t. Instead, you're having a staring competition with your ceiling, and so far you’re winning. 

You’re worrying yet again about Steven. You wonder where he is. If he’s really safe. What he—or Marc—has been doing all this time.

A full week has gone by, and you still haven’t heard anything from Steven himself. You haven’t had any further communication from the unknown number that may or may not be Marc either. 

Marc. 

Rolling onto your side, you stare off into the darkness of your flat. 

The concept of Marc is still an enigma to you. As far as you can tell, he’s entirely distinct from Steven. Not only are his mannerisms different, but he calls himself by another name and talks about Steven as if they’re separate people. 

There is another person inside of Steven that is markedly not Steven. 

In the complete darkness of your flat, your sleep deprived brain tries to make sense of what that actually means, but you can’t. There’s so much you don’t know.

Rolling back across the bed the other way, you reach for your phone. 

Midnight is not the ideal time to do research, but what does it matter? You’re not likely to sleep regardless. 

Your first pit stop is Google, but that does you no favours. As always, no matter what symptoms you put into the search bar, WebMD is determined to convince you that it’s cancer. 

Instead, you end up trawling through NHS’ homepage well past midnight, ending up in a wormhole of health issues until you land on the symptoms for Dissociative Identity Disorder: 

They may feel the presence of other identities, each with their own names, voices, personal histories and mannerisms.

The main symptoms of DID are:

» memory gaps about everyday events and personal information

» having several distinct identities

And there it is, written in plain Arial font. The conclusion you’ve been trying not to jump to. The inescapable reality behind all those red flags Steven’s been waving in front of your nose from the very start. 

You stare at the words on the page, reading and re-reading them. You don’t know what to think or how you feel about your discovery. The only thing you do know is that you are wholly unqualified to handle any of this. 

As far as you know, you've never met anyone—anyone else?—with DID. Your only previous exposure to the disorder has been through movies like Psycho, Split, Basic Instinct… Movies that depict the character with a mental health condition as a psychotic murderer or one in the making with sensationalist glee. 

You don’t believe that of course. You know better than to expect sensitive and accurate representation from Hollywood blockbusters. That’s a bit like reading The Sun and expecting truthful and unbiased news reports.

The problem is that knowing all of this doesn’t solve anything.

All you do know is that you miss Steven. You’re scared—terrified for him—and want him back with you. 

Fuck Marc for taking him away.

The devil himself must have heard you, his ears burning. Your phone pings out in the silence at that moment, interrupting your thoughts. The screen flashes, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness before you can read the incoming message. 

+x xxx xxx xxxx Steven will be back tomorrow. Don’t mention me. 

You stare at the phone as you reread the text once and then again. There’s no ambiguity this time; there can’t possibly be. 

Back. 

Steven. 

Steven is coming back to you. 

You barely have time to rejoice over the fact before those last three words hit you. Their meaning settles heavily in your gut, burning at the lining of your stomach until you think you might be sick all over your duvet.  

It’s a warning. The wolf is at your door. 

And just like that, the curtain’s pulled back, and you see Steven’s disappearance for what it is: a sick display of the power Marc holds over him. Over you both. A demonstration of how your life with Steven continues only at his whim. Those three words are an order and a stomach churning threat all in one. 

Mention Marc, reveal his existence to Steven, and he will take Steven from you.

For the first time, you understand why Steven has always been alone, and anger burns in your blood. Steven is being held hostage in his own body, and he doesn’t even know it. And you’re being blackmailed into lying to the man you love. 

You want to tell Steven the truth immediately. You want to scream it from the bloody rooftops. 

But you don’t want to lose him.

Selfish as it may be, you want to keep Steven in your life for as long as you can. At the very least, if you’re together, maybe you can protect him from Marc. Make sure he’s safe.

Isn’t that better than telling Steven the whole truth only to have Marc take him away from you? The only thing that would achieve is to relegate Steven back to a life of loneliness.

No. It wouldn’t do any good to tell Steven now. You can’t go in blindly when Marc has such a strong upper hand. You need more information, a plan, or at least some kind of strategy before you risk doing anything that might result in Steven being spirited away from you again. 

With your ear pressed to your pillow, you stare at the text, struggling to keep your eyes open. You turn the brightness up so far that it’s painful to look at, blinking away sleep until you’re unable to fight it anymore. 

A knock on the door wakes you. 

Squinting one eye open, you find the room flooded with light, bright and blinding. Your mouth tastes like harsh cotton, and your throat is sore when you swallow. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep last night, but it’s five to eight now according to your alarm clock. Your shoulders are stiff and aching, body protesting the lack of rest.

Sleep concussed as you are, you fumble towards the door, relying on memory rather than sight to navigate your surroundings. You don’t even make it to the middle of the room before you trip over your ottoman. 

Pain shoots out from the nub of your toe, and you barely manage to stop yourself from face planting. With a curse and a pending bruise forming on your foot, you hobble the rest of the way towards your door and unlock it. In your struggle, you don’t even bother to check the peephole to see who is at your door. 

You slide the door open, scarcely paying attention. At first, all you see is a much-too-loud novelty print and flowers wrapped in cellophane in the open doorway. Your brain stalls for several heartbeats, before you drag your eyes upwards. 

It’s Steven.

Sporting messy hair and an ill-fitting jumper, at least two sizes too large, he’s standing in front of you, hugging a fresh bouquet of flowers to his chest. 

“Hiya,” he greets you with a small wave of his free hand, a besotted smile on his face as though everything in his world is just as it should be. 

You blink. For a second, everything slows. You’re not sure if you’re ready to allow yourself to believe that this is real. If this is a dream, the disappointment of waking up with him not here will break you. 

“I got us some breakfast,” Steven says and steps inside, clumsily closing the door behind him with the side of his shoulder, “and there were these tulips at Sainsburys. Pink, your favourite.” 

He's here. Steven's actually here.

His face beams with pride as he looks up at you. “I know you said to stop getting flowers unless there’s an actual special occasion, but I thought spending the morning together after our first official sleepover is pretty special, and more importantly–” 

Your stomach drops. 

He doesn’t know. Steven clearly still thinks it’s the morning after. Doesn’t realise that a whole week has gone by since he spent the night here. 

Putting the flowers down on your kitchen counter, he turns to face you, holding up a wax paper bag with a delighted smile. 

“Et voilà! Croissants au chocolat for the lady. I’ll just pop them in the microwave real quick—I know you like them hot—and then I’ll make us some tea, yeah?” 

Steven is in your home, standing in the kitchen, smiling at you and spoiling you rotten, like he hadn't just disappeared off the face of the earth for a week. Because as far as Steven's aware, he’s been here with you all night after falling asleep watching animal documentaries. 

Right now, in front of you, he’s acting out the morning-after the two of you were supposed to have but a week too late, making you the breakfast he promised.

Your throat closes, and a liquid burn rises in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You can feel the threat of tears behind your eyes.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Steven drops the bag of croissants onto the counter and rushes over to you. “Did something happen while I was gone?” 

“No. I just–” You take a shaky breath, trying to collect yourself. 

Breaking down now won’t do either of you any good. You can’t tell him what’s wrong. Not without risking him being taken away forever. 

“I’m happy you’re here," you say, trying to fake a smile. 

You’re a rubbish liar. Always have been. It’s no surprise that Steven doesn’t buy it for a second. 

"Those are obviously not happy tears, love. What's going on? Have I done something wrong?"

His hands draw up to cup your face, one thumb skimming gently over the single tear that’s escaped onto your cheek. He tilts your chin up until you meet his gaze, and it’s like something clicks behind those sharp eyes. 

"It's because I wasn't here when you woke up, isn't it?" he asks gently.

You bite your lip. It’s such an oversimplification of what’s happened, but you don’t know how else to explain it to him, so you nod. A half-truth at best, but at least it’s only a lie by omission.

"’Course it is,” he soothes. “That would bother anyone, yeah?"

You let yourself collapse against him, hugging him tight around the middle as you bury your face in his chest. He lets out a quiet oof, but you refuse to let go and despite his obvious physical discomfort, Steven doesn't protest. He wraps his arms reassuringly around you, blanketing himself around you in comforting warmth.

“I’m sorry, I should have left a note. Don’t know why I didn’t. I was so sleep deprived that I don’t even remember leaving this morning. I must’ve thought it was only going to take a second, but the next thing I know, I’m in the dairy aisle and this lady with a stroller is looking at me funny."  

One large, gentle hand smooths over your shirt at the small of your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the warmth of the doting touch.

"I'm sorry," he says again, voice soft, "I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Closing your eyes, you take a second to let the comfort of his words and his arms around you seep in. You tilt your head upwards, pressing your nose to the hollow dip of his throat, right below his Adam's apple. He smells faintly of stale air and alcohol, covered up by the unfamiliar scent of cheap hotel soap. Your chest squeezes painfully at the reminder of his double life, one that neither of you know the details of. 

Even with Steven here in your arms, you cannot escape the reality that you’ll always have to share him with something you cannot understand. 

You don't move, instead, you press your mouth to that same spot on his throat, feeling his pulse beat steadily against your lips. 

He's here, the beat says. He's safe, he's alive. 

Nuzzling into the delicate skin, you’re rewarded with a keen gasp that makes the small hairs on your neck rise. His fingers flex against your waist with that familiar trademark hesitation, before settling there, hardly even resting against you. 

After all this time, it’s like he’s still scared you’re going to tell him no. As if your relationship is some kind of practical joke on him, and if he reaches for you first, you’ll laugh in his face. 

He was too afraid to mention the first night in case you’d get upset. He thought you were going to break up with him when you said you two needed to talk. It’s almost funny in a macabre sort of way that Steven doesn’t realise just how deep you’re in it over him. If he only knew of the sleepless nights you’ve suffered. How you’ve been sick to your stomach over missing him. Willing to bargain with the devil just to get to keep him. 

You kiss him again, trying to use his closeness to drown out all the things you can’t say. Pressing your lips to that sweet little spot where his jaw meets his throat. You do your best to savour the hint of stubble that tickles against your bottom lip. 

Steven shivers and then pulls back slightly, ducking his head to close the distance between your lips. A barely there touch, then Steven’s thumb catches behind your ear, timidly guiding you closer. 

That one kiss continues into several small chaste kisses, each press of his lips soft and devoted like he’s thanking you for letting him. It’s so pure, the kind of kisses that have your toes curling in delight and your ears tingling. But it’s restrained in a way that you’ve not got the patience for right now. 

Not after a whole week of his absence. Not when you’ve spent those seven days unsure if you would ever get to see him again. You want so much more than this. Can’t bear the fraction of a moment when his lips are not on yours when he breaks up his kisses to allow you to catch your breath. 

You want all of him all at once.

Your hand clutches at the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer. His breath stutters, mouth parting slightly, and you take the opportunity to lick over the swell of his bottom lip before you bite down, trying to be gentle. 

It must be the reassurance Steven needs, because he groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening. His hands dig into the plump flesh above your hips, kneading it with strong fingers, and there it is, that eagerness and hunger for you that you’re heedlessly in love with. The duality of Steven Grant. It's desperate, sweet and almost aggressive. One hand moves to grip the base of your neck, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest, eliminating the last of the physical distance between you.

It’s exactly what you need, and for a long, hot, breathless moment, you’re not thinking of anything except him. When he finally breaks off the kiss, you lean after him, chasing his lips. 

“Bed?” he asks, the word a low rasp against your seeking mouth. 

You nod eagerly and grab for him, recapturing his lips and giving him a tug in the right direction.

It’s clumsy and desperate as you let Steven manoeuvre the two of you through your flat. You’re blindly walking backwards, guided only by Steven’s outstretched hand fumbling against the surfaces of the wall to make sure you don’t bump into furniture. 

You kiss him like you’ve been held under water, deprived of air and his beautiful mouth is oxygen filling your lungs. Every step is an uncoordinated mess that nearly has you tipping over if it wasn’t for Steven holding you upright. It’d be far easier if you only let go. Would only take seconds in your tiny flat to get from the kitchen to the bed. But you’re not willing and Steven is only happy to indulge you. 

His mouth is warm and slick, hands large and firm. The warmth of his body against yours, comforting and alive. It’s all you can focus on as you forget your surroundings. Until something heavy and blunt pushes back against the inside of your calf. 

The surprise makes you lose your balance. You fall backwards, the whole room tilting as you’re sent sprawling. When things stop moving, you find yourself flat on your back, less than half a foot away from your bed. You’re still staring up at Steven’s shocked face and outstretched hands when you realise what (literally) hit you. 

Bloody cockblocking ottoman. 

The pitched dark hunger disappears from those brown eyes in an instant. Instead they’ve gone round and doelike with concern as Steven rushes forward, falling to his knees in front of you, and draws your leg into his lap.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more careful and watched where we were going. Bloody stupid of me, I practically pushed you. Are you hurt?”

“It’s fine, Steven. I’m fine. You didn’t push me. It’s alright,” you tell him. 

But his eyes are already darting over your lower leg, and his hands quickly follow, gingerly rubbing your ankle and feeling up over your calf with great care, making your skin prickles under his fingers.  It’s a credible imitation of Florence Nightingale, but as sweet as it is to have Steven tend to you, it's not the sort of attention you want from him right now.

"Leave off the fussing, please?" you ask him softly. 

“Should we–maybe I should get you on the bed yeah? You might be hurt and–”

Leaning up, you place kisses on his jaw, his cheeks, the swell of his lip, hoping to distract him. "I need you, Steven. Don't stop. I don't want to stop right now."

His eyes are still wide and worried, as his hand smooths over the bend of your knee in comfort. “You’re sure you're alright? That I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure.” You grab his collar and lean back, dragging him on top of you as you lie back onto the floor.  

Steven follows, letting you pull him down without a hint of resistance, and clambering forward until he’s completely above you. His large frame looms over yours on the floor, thick thighs straddling your waist, and you’re reminded all over again that one of your favourite facets of Steven is how cooperative he is. Always so eager to please you, and you have zero compunction about taking advantage.

“Take this off,” you order, tugging at his jumper impatiently. 

He nods hastily. “Right, right.” 

Ever so good at following your orders, Steven’s hand immediately reaches for the bottom of the garment. He grabs the hem and pulls, revealing a tantalising sliver of golden skin above the waistband of his trousers. You’re so focused on the slowly widening swath of his bare stomach, that it’s not until he pauses, a clumsy snarl of fabric tangled around his head and shoulders, that you realise he’s attempted to take off his jumper and the shirt beneath all in one go and gotten himself stuck. 

Honestly, you’re not even surprised. On any other occasion, you’d be smiling at his adorable ridiculousness, but it's been a week. One hundred and sixty-eight endless hours since you’ve gotten to hold him and touch him like this—uncertain if you’d ever get to—and now each additional second of delay feels like an eternity.

Finally, with another sloppy tug and an impatient groan, the tangled mess of clothing gives, and Steven’s bare-chested on top of you. He’s all strong, sleek muscles, as gorgeous and well-defined as those cut from marble on statues of Greek deities displayed in the very same museums that Steven himself tends to. 

It should’ve been obvious from the start. You want to burst out in laughter at your own naivety. Why on earth would a man who works at a gift shop and spends his free time with his nose buried in dusty old books have a body like this? How has Steven never questioned his own physique? Does he think that all men just wake up looking like this without any effort? 

The sun from the window shines soft over his shoulder and arms. The thin gold chain dangles from his long neck, glistening in the light. He is all warm and golden, soft for your hands to freely wander over the bare expanse of his skin. 

Your hand cups the back of his neck, teasing at those ridiculously soft curls with your fingers, before scraping the base of his scalp with the gentlest strength. You’re marvelling at how prettily his eyelashes flutter and the way he sighs with a blissful shiver makes you smile. 

Sliding down, your hand roams over the carved muscle of his shoulder blade, over his back, pressing a line of soft kisses on the column of his neck. They flex under your touch, as Steven keens softly and you take comfort in the fact that if there was ever proof that Steven is here with you, it’s this. The heavy weight of him on top of you. The fast beating pulse of his throat under your lips. The feel of him hardening against your belly. 

Reaching for his belt, you fumble with the buckle until it finally gives with a metallic clank. Then you shove one greedy hand under the loose waistband of his trousers, slipping it into his underwear. 

He’s hot and hard. Flesh smooth to your touch. Your fingers curl around the thick girth, giving him a firm, indulgent stroke, from base to blunt tip, tracing every ridge. Steven gasps and shudders at your touch, slumping forward like he’s unable to support his own weight and pressing his forehead into your collarbone with a quiet whine. 

You close your eyes at the sound of it, feeling him all around you. 

This is what you’ve been missing, what you’ve been desperately needing, all week. Immersing yourself in the moment—in him—as fully as possible, you draw in a deep breath and give him another stroke just to hear him make that noise again. You let his reassuring presence wash over you, try to let it convince you that he’s really here. 

Wherever he’s been this last week, he’s here, right now, with you.

Then suddenly he’s not. 

Out of nowhere, the protective weight and warmth of him is rising away. Alarm crowds your senses, and in a moment of instinctual panic, your hand shoots up, grabbing his arm. 

"Don't go!"

You open your eyes to find Steven still right there next to you. He's frozen with one hand outstretched above the open drawer of your nightstand, a look of shocked surprise on his face.  

Oh God. He wasn’t going anywhere at all, he was just getting a condom. 

Your cheeks flush with embarrassed heat at the realisation.

"Sorry," you mumble, and you duck your chin, "I just–" You don't know how to explain away your massive overreaction, and guilt claws even deeper into your chest as you find yourself offering up yet another half-lie.

"I had a nightmare that you left. Disappeared, and I couldn’t find you.” 

You can’t believe it’s your own voice that you’re hearing. It sounds so small. Ugly in its neediness. If this was any other man, you’re sure they’d be running for the hills by now. It’s a miracle Steven hasn’t. “It’s silly. Sorry.”

Steven frowns with sympathy, worry etched all around his beautiful eyes. "You don’t have to be sorry, love." He closes the drawer, condom in hand. Then he's leaning back down to press his lips to your hairline. “It’s not silly.”

"But hey, listen,” he murmurs, resting his forehead briefly against yours. “I’m not going anywhere, am I? No. Not except maybe down to the shops."

One warm hand comes to cup your face, and he’s looking at you with so much sincerity that it takes your breath away.

"I would never leave you. Never. Not ever, I swear. Not so long as you’ll have me.” He says it with such utter conviction that pain washes over you anew. 

Because it’s not really up to Steven, is it? He may not be able to stay with you, regardless of what he wants.

“You don’t know that." 

The unfairness of the situation, his powerlessness over his own life, has tears pushing hot behind your eyes.

“Then I'll come back, simple as that. No matter what happens. Even if the bloody sky falls down. Even if a fleet of flying saucers brings an army of funny little green men straight out of Mars Attacks to invade the earth tomorrow, I'll still come back to you. Always, alright? I'll always come back to you.”

The lump still sits heavily in your throat, but you choke out an amused laugh at the imagery Steven draws for you. He smiles victoriously in return. It lights the whole room, and you reach for him again, wrapping your arms around his neck because you need to pull him close and kiss him. 

In this moment, you allow yourself to believe. Against all flashing red signs pointing otherwise, you choose to believe that he will keep this promise. That whatever circumstances arise, even if Marc takes him away again, Steven will always come back to you. 

“Okay,” you say, with a smile stretching wide across your lips, and you can feel the dark weight lifting as you nod at him. 

Steven mirrors your smile, returning your kiss and that’s all it takes before the last morsel of doubt lifts. 

His hands reach down, shimmying his trousers down his ample hips. You help him, hooking your thumb at the hem to drag them down the rest of the way, and he kicks them off his ankle. 

Then finally, the warmth of his bare thighs is against yours, and you both gasp. It’s fucking bliss to feel him like this.  Naked and warm, pressed up against every inch of you, his weight holding you down against the floor, the length of him lying hard and heavy against your belly. 

He anchors himself on one elbow, as he rips the foil wrapper, lifting off of you slightly. 

You miss the contact immediately. It’s like the week apart has left you even more attuned to him, hyper-aware of all the places you’re no longer touching. You watch impatiently as he turns to one side just enough to give himself room, rolling the condom down over his cock with gratifying speed. 

His hands are steady, his movements sure, nothing like that first night where both of you struggled to make sense of the stubborn rubber in the near-dark of his flat. By now, the two of you have done this often enough that Steven knows every step of the routine like the back of his hand, clumsy eagerness replaced by practised ease. 

Anticipation and longing beat loud in your chest at the sight of him, eyes dark, cock in hand as he positions himself at your entrance. You reach for him, unable to stand the distance between the two of you, and he smiles fondly at you and leans down obligingly, resting his bodyweight on top of yours like a heavy blanket. 

It’s fucking perfect. Exactly what you need, and your body opens for him, knees falling outward, hips canting up, heels digging into the floor as you arch up, trying to press yourself closer.

He grinds forward, the underside of his cock sliding slick and wet over your folds. Pleasure rises hot and overwhelming between your thighs at the stimulation, and an unflattering high-pitched noise escapes from the corner of your lungs. It’s like your whole body is strung on a thin line of thread. Overwhelmed by the barest contact after a week of having none. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive having him inside you when this already feels like so much. You wonder if he feels it too.

Opening your eyes, you see the boyish grin on his face, radiating with pride. He does it again, angling his hips to thrust up as the blunt head of his cock glides wetly over your clit and oh fucking– 

Your hips jerk up involuntarily, pressing harder against him, and Steven gasps, eyes going wide and dark, that teasing grin wiped right off his face. 

“Fuck, Steven–God. I need–” Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders, and you don’t know what you’re trying to say—not sure if you want him to stop or do it again—but it doesn’t matter. You never get to finish the rest of your sentence. 

The thick ridge of his cock slips wetly inside you, and the sweet stretch of him, white and blinding, crowds out every other thought in your head. Your cunt squeezes around him at the thick intrusion, and you both moan at the tight pressure. 

He halts, stilling inside you, and dear fucking god, he’s not even all the way in.  

“God, love. You’re squeezing me so tight,” Steven gasps out, “Feels bloody amazing.” The words are soft, but there’s a clear strain in his voice, and his arms are trembling at your sides from the exertion of keeping still. 

He still doesn’t move, and you’re not sure if he needs a moment or is trying to give you one. “I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I can't be all the way inside you. Can I–”

He hovers above you, and you can feel his cock jerking and straining against you, the only part of his body he can’t fully control. You can’t help the way your body clenches and shivers in response, and he groans, resting his forehead against yours for a long moment as you pant heavily against each other’s lips. 

“Is it alright for me to keep going?” he asks, eventually. 

You try to say yes, but all that comes out is a breathless, choked out sob, as you nod at him frantically. 

It’s all Steven needs. His hips push forward, pressing the rest of the way into you in one long, smooth stroke. The feeling is electric, robbing you of the ability to process anything except the way he fills you, stretching you out as he buries every inch of himself inside you. You can’t think. Can barely breathe. He’s embedded so deeply that there’s no space left in your lungs.

After a long moment, he starts to pull out just as slowly, his eyes fixed on yours. The pace is maddening, a thick, glacial drag that makes you feel every gorgeous inch of him. It leaves you gasping and writhing under him as he continues to retreat until only the tip still rests inside of you. 

Then he does it all again.

He’s so different when he’s like this. His eyes focused, any trace of timidness gone. Everything else, all his usual hesitation and fear and doubt, seems to fade away when he’s inside you.  It’s like you’re the only thing in his world—you and the need to make you feel good. 

Drawing two of his fingers to his mouth, he slides them between his plush lips, and you can see his tongue tracing around them before he pulls them out again, glistening with spit for you. It’s entirely unnecessary. You’re so wet it’s leaking down the length of him and onto the inside of your thighs. But the sight makes your heart race all the same. 

Steven reaches down between your bodies, hand resting above the apex of your thighs where his cock is still nestled inside you. His fingers slide, ever so gently over the slippery, sensitive flesh where you’re stretched wide around him.

“Feel that, love?” he breathes into your open mouth, “I’m right here. You’ve got me.”

His thumb catches at your clit as he gently presses down, and it has you spasming from the sharp pleasure. He gasps, jerking slightly above you, but doesn’t stop. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He continues to draws small, persistent circles over and over your clit that squeezes the very air out of your lungs, replacing everything, with a needy heat. 

Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation. Tears stinging in the corner of your lids. 

It’s still not enough. You want more of him. Need to get closer. 

You press your heels hard against the floor, trying to get better leverage, and grip frantically at his back. Nails biting into his skin, you claw at his shoulder blades as though you’re trying to dig your way in so deep that he’ll never be able to tear himself away from you again. It’s selfish, and you know it must be hurting him, but you can’t seem to be able to stop yourself.

Steven doesn’t stop you either. It’s like he knows that you still need more, and he rolls his hips into you, thrusting deep. His hand grips at the underside of your knees, pulling your legs to wrap them around his waist to let you squeeze your thighs around him, heels digging into the curve of his ass. 

It feels like another way of telling you he’s here. Yours to use. Yours to have. Just… yours.

“Never gonna leave,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the lobe as if to seal his promise. 

Right now you don’t care if it’s a promise that he might not be able to keep. Not when pleasure, bright and blistering, is surging through you with every roll of his hips. It’s too much, bordering on unbearable. You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, just soft murmurs and vague shushing. 

It doesn’t matter, because his body is telling you all you need to know. 

Because for all of Steven’s calm and reassuring words, his actions don’t match. His actions are telling you a different story—a more desperate one—full of grasping hands, deep urgent thrusts, and bitten-off gasps. It’s like his body knows how long you’ve been apart and what it’s been missing, even if his mind doesn’t.

His hand palms at your ribs, fingers digging deep crevices in your flesh, holding you tight like he means never to let go. 

Mine, it says. Possessive and hungry. 

His mouth, for all its loving dulcet tones and cooing, never seems to leave your skin for long, sliding over your throat and jaw as if magnetised.

Yours, it promises, just as certainly.

He thrusts inside you, his hands find the bare backs of your thighs as he hooks one leg over his arm, and the new angle has him sliding in impossibly deep until it knocks the air out of your ribs. For a long blissful moment, you swear your whole chest cage is going to collapse.

His cock hits somewhere earth-shattering, and you arch up off the floor, curling into him with a shivering gasp. Heat crackles through every limb, swirling and swelling, sweet and insistent in anticipation of your climax.  It settles deep in your belly, raw and heavy, soothed only by each insistent thrust.

He’s so deep you swear you feel him everywhere, buried inside you like he’s trying to stake a claim and never leave. 

You hope he never does. 

Pushing your hips up to him, you chase the feeling of him hitting that perfect spot, as the warm heat of it flutters in your stomach with each deep stroke. It won’t take much, you’re almost there– 

But you don’t want this to end. Not yet. You want to keep Steven right here inside of you for as long as you possibly can. 

You try to relax the tension in your legs, try to push your hips back down to stave it off. But it’s no good, Steven’s hands are still on you, manhandling you into a position where you can’t escape the perfect, relentless press of his cock inside you.

Not yet, not yet, not yet…

But it’s already there, at the tip of your fingers, so close you can taste it on your tongue. A promise of rapture, whether you want it to or not, and you want to scream and cry and fight the sensation that taunts you as it hangs there. But you can’t seem to do any of those things. It’s like you’ve lost control of your body, your hips lock tight, your throat feels tight and– fuck fuck, you’re– 

“Steven, please. Not yet, I’m–”  Your eyes squeeze shut, hands clawing at the carpet, searching for something to ground yourself with. 

“I’m right here, love,” he murmurs, hand reaching for yours until he finds it and pins it next to your head. He clasps your hand tightly in his, weaving each one of his fingers between yours. “Right here. It’s alright. Let go for me.” 

That’s all it takes. The floor underneath gives under, opening up and swallowing you whole. You feel like you’re floating and falling all at once as you clamour for Steven and hold him close as you fall through the cracks off the edge of the earth. 

Your legs latch around the middle of his waist as you wring out every ounce and drop of the sensation you can. It rushes through you, ripe and overfull, filling every strand of every vein. You’re disorientated, the world narrowing into nothingness. The only thing that still exists is Steven. 

All you can hear is the way his breath is stuttering with effort. 

Can feel the way his even pace falters. Can see the way his brows knit in concentration, his face painted with bliss. 

God, he’s beautiful like this. 

Steven comes with a broken groan. 

It’s so much and so deep and somehow you still want more. Want the feel of him raw and bare inside. Even that thin separation of not even a millimetre of rubber is too great of a separator for you to bear right now. All you want is to feel him spill himself inside you, thick and warm. 

His body goes still and rigid, and then the strength in him gives under, nearly collapsing over you. He stops himself at the last second with a slam of his fist on the floor next to you, bent arms trembling with strain in an effort to keep himself upright. 

It’s a sweet and considerate gesture. He doesn’t want to flatten you with his weight. It’s also completely unnecessary because there’s nothing you want more in this moment. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down the rest of the way. It doesn’t take much of your strength, his elbow gives in and bends further, until he’s flush against you, sweaty and heavy limbs entangling with yours. 

Despite the unbearable stickiness and heat from your exertion, Steven holds you, chest still heaving against yours. His thin necklace slips delicately down over your collarbone, cool where it rests against your overheated skin. The golden pendant is pressed intimately between your breast and his chest.

The morning sun washes over everything inside your flat in a golden hue. Even the dull white of your walls turns into something warm and amber. The only sound permeating the peace is the sound of morning traffic outside. A busted old moped races down the street. Children shouting over a game of tag. The honking of cars trying to get somewhere fast. Outside it is loud, hectic and chaotic. 

But right here, inside the safe bubble of your tiny flat, Steven is warm and heavy over you, the beat of his heart drumming against your chest in a steady pace. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you ask. 

He kisses your forehead, uncaring of the way your skin is sticky with sweat, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he squeezes your hand firmly in his. 

“‘Course we can, love. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

~ CONTINUE ~

Once again thanks for everyone coming along for this ride. We're hoping to be posting this on a semi-regular schedule of every two weeks. For anyone who wants to be tagged please sign up to the tag list linked on the series masterlist.

We are beyond grateful for all the comments, reblogs and likes and just interest on this series, and while I can be a bit rubbish at replying sometimes, please know that your words and support inspires us to keep going with this series. 🥰

Dedication & Credits:

It takes a village huh, guys?

All my broken dishes to @the-ginger-hedge-witch because when I told her I wanted Steven to get to rawdog it, she went, "absolutely not, not when Marc is out there whoring around for all we know." (I may or may not be rephrasing but that was the sentiment).

To @radiowallet for listening to my insane and uninformed ramblings about Moon Knight and for giving me a firm guide and steering on how to write our beloved Moon Boys and making sure that everything tracks.

To @write-and-buried for inspiring me with the most absolutely deranged filthy suggestions when my smut inspiration well runs dry. I got really stuck in the sex scene for this one when I decided to in the 11th hour add a sex scene because "it felt right" then proceeding to panic cause I forgot how to write smut and she got me back on track.

And always and forever to my co-writer @thirstworldproblemss who had stayed up endless nights with me discussing the finer details of how twitchy a cock should be, how much it should leak. This series would not exist without her, she turns the rubbish I write into diamonds, she goes through every sentence once-twice-three times and she is always responsible for the best lines in every chapter, her voice for Steven is unparalleled, and I find myself falling more and more in love with this world because of her. I would not be writing this story, and most likely, at all, if it weren't for her and our friendship.

RED FLAGS ║ PART 2

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: Something strange is going on with Steven. Or alternatively: how you fix your relationship by giving Steven the sloppiest office blowjob ever.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: unease around male character, inappropriate office behaviour, blowjob, semi-public sex. Please do not attempt to re-enact this, it will land you with HR.

Word Count: 9.3k (guys this was meant to be a short interlude... idek)

Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

Something is wrong.

You’re naked in your boyfriend’s bed—the very same bed where he took you apart some hours ago, desperate, worshipful mouth pressed tight between your thighs. But now he’s staring down at you, that very same mouth set in an almost-disdainful line, eyes flat and blank.

It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror and seeing a distorted reflection of reality. So many of the peripheral things are the same but the essence is different somehow. Off in a way that has your heart pounding loud in your ears. 

The difference is jarring in the same way that the still-healing wounds on his torso are.  Though in this low light, the bruising on his shoulder and the cuts across his chest don’t look nearly as bad as they did when you first saw them. Was it just the shock of their existence that made you think they were worse than they are?

He clears his throat and you realise with a start that you’ve been silently gawking at his chest for the last several minutes. When your eyes fly to his face, you find him poorly suppressing an amused smirk. He’s never looked at you like that before; you weren’t even aware his mouth was physically capable of curving into such a snide expression.

You don’t know what to say to him. To this stranger of a man who has replaced your sweet, awkward Steven. Don’t know what to do with yourself either. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights, covers still clutched to your chest. 

His brows draw together, head tilting slightly to the side as he regards you, dark eyes sharp, almost predatory in a way that makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, like an insect pinned to a display board. Your breath stutters in your chest, and a wave of goosebumps raises the hairs along the back of your arms.

Something is wrong, and you want it to stop. And if it won’t stop, you need to leave.

But calmly. Years of experience with drunk blokes in pubs and with overly-handsy coworkers tells you to act normal. Make an excuse. Wouldn’t do to alarm him.

"Is… um…  is your insomnia flaring up again? I should go. I…  really need to be getting home anyway. Early morning at work, you know." You’re babbling nervously, can’t seem to stop as you start to gather up your clothes. You hurry as much as you can without letting go of the duvet, unwilling to lose the only barrier of protection you have against him. 

“I’ll… um… Just let me–” you stammer as you scoop your ruined tights into your handbag and grab your boots. You back prickles uneasily and you have to force yourself not to look over your shoulder and see if he’s still standing there watching you. “I’ll just get dressed and be on my way.”

You don’t look at him or wait for a response. Things in hand and bedding still wrapped firmly around yourself, you scuttle across the flat like a deranged hermit crab, relieved to find that the doorway you spotted is, indeed the loo. You retreat inside, closing the accordion door firmly shut behind you.

Encased in the darkness of the small room, you listen anxiously for any noise from the rest of the flat, but all you can hear is your heart beating loudly in your ears. You fumble blindly with your handbag, pawing through the keys and makeup and all the other odds and ends that seem to accumulate despite your best efforts, cursing yourself for not being more organised.

Finally, after an infinitely long moment of listening to your breathing come faster and faster as you search, your hand closes around your phone, and you yank it free. Your fingers are clumsy as you thumb it open, turning on the flashlight so you can find the pull cord for the bathroom light and tug it down until the room flickers with a jarring glaring brightness. 

You squint down at your phone, and the familiar background screen of you and Steven looks back up at you. Something akin to guilt floods your chest when you pull up the Uber app to secure a ride home—ETA: 12 mins. It’s followed immediately by relief. 

You need the loo, but you feel too exposed to actually sit down for a pee while starkers. It’s ridiculous really, this isn’t a Hitchcock movie, and logically you know that no one is going to attack you from behind the shower curtain. Still you opt for dressing yourself as quickly as you can. 

Fully clothed and with your escape route secured, you feel a tiny bit better, but the tightness in your chest refuses to dissipate fully. 

You use the loo and wash your hands. Catching sight of yourself in the tiny mirror above the sink, you run a quick hand over your hair before giving it up as a bad job, less worried about your looks than… than… What is it that you’re worried about anyway?  

Standing there staring at your reflection, peaky and fretful under the harsh light, you wrap your arms around yourself and wonder what the bloody hell is going on with you. You’re being ridiculous.

It’s just Steven, right? Your sweet, caring Steven. Except it’s not.

He hasn’t really even done anything untoward, and yet here you are, your heart in your throat, ready to jump out of your skin at the slightest provocation. 

He was just so oddly still. Loose and almost... relaxed in a way you’re not used to from Steven. 

Maybe that’s it, you tell yourself, trying to pluck up the courage to open the door to the rest of the flat.  People sometimes act differently after sex. (Case in point: whatever is going on with you right now.)

Maybe this is just what Steven is like once he finally lets himself relax?

The thought warms you, makes the tightness in your chest relax marginally.  But the warmth fades as soon as you open the door to find him standing in the middle of the room, staring at you.

He’s dressed now as well in the well-fitted shirt and dark jacket, so different from his usual oversized clothes. You note absently that it’s a good look on him, but the thought never truly takes hold because you’re too focused on his eyes, just as piercing as before.  Another shiver works its way up your spine. This isn’t just your imagination. 

Something is wrong with Steven, and everything inside you is screaming that you need to get out of here. 

Now.

“I’ll just… um… wait downstairs, shall I?”

He says nothing, and you’re glad, even though that’s wrong too. Steven always offers to walk you, but this time you’re just as happy to be away from him that much sooner.

You’re uncomfortably aware of the weight of his eyes on you as you make your way to the door and start to unfasten the frankly ridiculous number of locks and deadbolts. Even for London this is a bit of an overkill, isn’t it?

Once you finally get the door open, you flash Steven one last wave and a quick, “see you around.” You duck out the door before he can reply, shutting it gently behind you. Resisting the urge to let your head thunk forward against the wood, you turn and head for the lift, still feeling odd about the whole interaction and vaguely on edge.

What was that? Why do you feel more like a witness fleeing a crime scene than a woman bidding a fond goodnight to her boyfriend?

It doesn’t help your nerves that the hallway is dark and empty and one of the lights keeps flickering, lending the whole space an eerie feel. You almost wish you’d asked Steven to walk you down, but you want your Steven, awkward and openly affectionate, not the odd, mostly-silent man you’ve just left behind in his flat.

You reach the lift and punch the call button, prompting a deep hum as the machinery starts to move. You’re staring at the bright red LED light indicating which floor it’s on, willing it to arrive when something grabs hold of your wrist. Hard and unyielding. The persistent grip makes you flinch, jerking your hand back and spinning around to confront… Steven. 

He’s right there behind you, looming over you, looking impossibly large and menacing, and your heart hammers in your chest. You take an involuntary step backwards and clutch your bag to your chest. Your back bumps up against something cold, and you nearly shriek before realising you’ve backed into the door of the lift. 

God, what is wrong with you tonight!? 

It’s just Steven, you tell yourself, willing your rabbiting heart to slow down. (But it’s not. Something inside you is still screaming that this is not your Steven. His eyes are wrong, his stance is wrong, his fucking hair is wrong.)

And you don’t know what you expect (the worst. Oh god, since when have you expected the worst from Steven?) but it isn’t for him to take a step back and hold his hands up in the universal gesture of harmlessness. 

Harmless… right. What a laugh. Right now he looks anything but. Except...

He regards you steadily, eyes dark in his too-serious face. He’s still too still, too... much to be your Steven, but...

There’s something about the way he’s giving you space. The way the stillness is deliberate now, controlled. He’s not trying to make himself smaller—not the way Steven always does—but he’s holding himself back. The power obvious in every line of his body is being restrained in an effort to reassure you, and it’s enough to overcome the worst of your irrational fear.

There’s a tilt of his head, as he gives you a nod, one that seems to say, ‘that’s right. You’re okay.’ And as those dark eyes burn into yours, you can almost bring yourself to believe it. 

He seems to notice too, something shifting subtly in his face. His lips curve up into a small smile, but even that is wrong… almost condescending. And he tips his head slightly to the right.

It’s then that you notice your cheap watch hanging from his hand, the stupid thing looking tiny and delicate in his thick fingers. 

Oh. Oh God. You’ve made a right idiot of yourself, haven't you? Embarrassed warmth floods your cheeks. He must think you’re a complete nutter, overreacting like that over the return of a wristwatch. 

Your eyes shift from your watch back to his face, and there's something—the slightest quirk of an eyebrow or maybe the way that one corner of his mouth ticks up higher—that turns the expression cruel, like he’s having a laugh at your expense. 

The heat spreads and prickles up over the back of your neck, making your ears burn. You’re not even sure anymore if it's nerves or embarrassment or something else entirely, but it rubs you the wrong way all the same, and annoyance comes to the forefront. 

Narrowing your eyes, you send him a look that would ordinarily have Steven withering, but it only seems to amuse the man in front of you.

"Thanks," you tell him flatly, not quite daring to pop off the way you want to. Instead you hesitantly step forward into his space to grab the watch from him. The band pops apart—of course it does—leaving you each holding half of the useless thing, and you have to scramble to grab the other half from his hand under his taunting gaze. 

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with Steven!? God, you just want to be done with this and far, far away from here.

Like the answer to your prayers, a loud ding sounds out in the silence, heralding the arrival of the lift. 

The doors open behind you, and you back in, unwilling to take your eyes off the man who continues to watch you with the same expression of condescending amusement.  Once you’re far enough in, you punch the button for the ground floor, and give him a perfunctory wave as the doors close between you, breathing a sigh of relief once the lift begins to move.

Still, it’s not until you’re safely ensconced in the uber on the way back to your flat that you feel like you can finally take a full breath again. And as soon as you do, doubt floods into you along with it.

What in the bloody hell was that!? 

Why did you react that way? Somehow, in the veritable sea of red flags lining the road of your relationship with Steven, nothing else has set you off like this.

The whole thing seems surreal, and the farther from Steven’s flat you get, the less sure you are of what happened. Was he really even behaving oddly? Or were you the odd one for overreacting—practically having kittens over your boyfriend… what? Not fawning over you the way he usually does or nattering on about one of his interests in the middle of the night? 

Your logical mind is scrambling for some rational explanation: It’s not outrageous to think Steven might be out of sorts because he couldn’t sleep. Or perhaps you had an unremembered bad dream, and the anxiety bled over into wakefulness. Half two in the morning is not anyone’s best hour. 

But the way he looked at you there at the end, like you were nothing to him…

No matter how you try to explain what happened or excuse it away, the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach remains the same. As does the fact that, for a bit there, for whatever reason, you were afraid to be alone with Steven. 

And that’s a giant fucking red flag if you’ve ever seen one. One you don’t know if you can get past. 

You don’t get any sleep that night, and the entirety of the following workday is a fog. There’s spreadsheets and Team meetings and more spreadsheets, and thank God none of it requires your active brain capacity, because you have none to give today. Your thoughts are entirely preoccupied with last night, and trying to decide what to do about Steven.

The logical part of you votes for cutting your losses and ending things now before you get in too deep. Part of you thinks it’s already too late.

Your phone pings from your bag, and despite your uncertainty and everything that happened last night, your heart still skips excitedly at the thought that it might be Steven. Fishing it out, you unlock it, anticipating a text from Steven; expecting him to be checking in on you the way he always does. 

Except, it’s not Steven. 

Instead it’s an unsolicited picture of an unimpressive specimen of male genitalia taken under the most unflattering fluorescent bathroom light possible. Definitely not Steven. 

Hello, unwanted dick pic #13. 

God, this is what you would have to look forward to if you break it off with Steven, isn’t it? A return to the dystopian, post-apocalyptic landscape that is the London dating scene.

You don’t want to go back to unsolicited dick pics; questionable men, who are either lying about their marriage status or their profile picture; and blokes who leer at you like you’re a piece of meat hanging from a hook in the window display of a butcher’s store. 

But most of all you don’t want to go back to dating strange random men, because you want to be dating Steven. 

You like Steven. 

You like his puppy dog eyes, and his awkward adoration, and his enthusiasm.  You like the silly texts that he sends you throughout the work day— random photos of cute dogs on the tube or Egyptian artefacts with captions full of lame puns and emojis and the reason why he thought of you. 

You like all of it. 

You like Steven. You like Steven a lot. Before last night, you might even have said you were falling in lo– (No. No, you’re not going there. Not right now.) 

But last night was... not good. Quite bad, in fact, wasn't it? You can admit that now. In the space of that last quarter hour with Steven, he made you feel scared and... and... small. And you don’t know how to deal with that from someone you’re supposed to be able to trust. 

Don’t know if you even want to try.

God, you’re a mess. 

You shoot yet another glance at the wall clock, but it’s still not half five. 

You’ve spent the last several hours counting down the minutes and seconds until you can clock out, but the more you check the time, the more it seems to drag on until you think the hands must be clinging to the face of the clock, slowing time itself just to taunt you. 

It takes an eternity and a half but then, finally, the clock ticks over. 

You gather up your belongings in a daze and bid your coworkers an absentminded goodbye before wandering off to the lift. You stare at your own reflection, distorted in the metallic sidewall as the lift descends, still fretting about Steven.

Do you want to break up with him? Keep seeing him? How the bloody hell are you supposed to know when you don't even know what it will be like when you see him again?

When the doors open on the ground floor, you can hear that there’s some kind of commotion taking place at reception. 

“Sir, I’m going to ask you one final time: Who are you here to see?” The no-nonsense voice booms through the entrance hall of your office building 

Susan, the loveable old battle-axe of a receptionist, is giving some poor bloke a hard time again. Nothing unusual there. You can hear her barking out, “If you don’t give me a name right now, you’re going to have to leave. This isn’t a bus stop, alright?” 

“Sorry, Sorry.” 

Oh God. You recognise that voice.  

“I'm not loitering or anything dodgy like that. I'm just waiting for my... girl–uh... lady... um… friend."

Rounding the corner, you see him. 

Puppydog Steven has returned. He’s wearing another novelty print button down and a hangdog expression. Back stooped and hunching into himself, he’s standing in front of the receptionist desk, holding a bouquet of roses the size of a carnival prize in front of himself like a shield. 

“Steven?” 

At your voice, he turns towards you, hunching further over into himself like he’s bracing himself for a blow. As you approach, you can tell he’s nervous and unhappy in a way you haven’t seen since your first date, and your first thought is that something awful must have happened, because of the contrast between last night and now beggars belief. 

“This one yours then, love?” Susan asks, still eyeing Steven like he might be about to make off with the electronics.

“Yeah, he’s um… Yeah. Thanks, Susan,” you flash her a placating smile, then turn to Steven.  

“Steven, what’s wrong? Why are you—,” but you don’t even get the chance to finish the question before he interrupts you.

“I’m sorry. Oh God, this is why I don’t— Sorry, sorry. I–” The words are disjointed, tripping over each other in his hurry to get them out, but clearly it's some sort of garbled apology. “Look, if I– If I did something last night that made you uncomfortable, I’m– Oh God, I’m so sorry.” 

In your peripheral view you can see Susan, working studiously at the corner of the reception desk that offers the best position for her to listen in on your private conversation with Steven. You’re acutely aware of various other onlookers who seem to all have found reasons to loiter in the reception area as well. Unless you want to be the star of the workplace gossip blasted in the office kitchen tomorrow morning, you need to move the two of you somewhere less public, and quickly. 

“Susan, can you block off one of the meeting rooms for me?”

She gives you a slightly dubious look, and for a moment you think she’ll refuse. Susan lives for any morsel of gossip to keep her entertained. But to your surprise, she does you a solid without any further prompting. 

“Room 10, pet.” 

“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.” You flash Susan a grateful smile and make a mental note to get her one of those fancy coffees she likes from the cafe around the corner for brekkie tomorrow.

“C’mon.” You grab the cuff of Steven’s shirt and tug gently.

Steven follows your lead, allowing you to pull him with you down the hallway of conference rooms. Rounding a corner, into a more secluded bit of hallway, you follow the corridor until you reach the last door in the row. The one to the conference room that affords the most privacy.

Swinging the door open, you all but shove Steven inside before closing the door behind the two of you. You flip the lock to ensure there are no unwanted interruptions before turning back to Steven.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he starts again as soon as you’re facing him. 

“Steven, Steven. It's alright,” you interrupt, attempting to reassure him, because God, he looks miserable—every inch the cowering puppydog, just waiting for the kick he knows is coming—and you can’t bear for him to look like that. But he just shuts his eyes like looking at you is painful. He shakes his head, the set of his mouth all misery, and then your heart skips a beat when his eyes snap open and lock onto yours with an intensity that’s startlingly reminiscent of the night before. 

“I just– Look, I—  You’re the best bloody thing I’ve had in my life in a long time—maybe ever—and… and last night was amazing. Better—way better—than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

He’s so open, so honest, gazing at you with large, pleading eyes. You feel yourself melting despite your earlier indecision on whether you should be done with him, especially when he continues.

“Last night was perfect,” he says with fervent conviction, but then falters and looks down, apparently shy. You feel your heart squeeze at how adoring he is. “At least, I thought so. You were perfect. And I got to fall asleep with you, which was perfect too. But then I woke up and you were gone. And I’m afraid I’ve bollocksed it all up somehow, the way I always do. Good ol' Steven, can't pull a bird to save his life, let alone hold onto one. And it never mattered so much before, but now it does because it’s you, and…”

And he’s still talking, but you’re stuck on one particular part of that word vomit.

He said… he said that he woke up and you were gone. But that’s not right. You know that’s not right. He woke up before you, so clearly you were still there! Does he... not remember? 

You almost ask. Almost say so directly, but something holds you back. Some lingering fear prevents you from bringing up your last unnerving middle-of-the-night encounter. An absurd worry that you don’t dare mention that other, wrong Steven for fear of summoning him back.

Instead you interrupt Steven’s rambling to probe gently, “I was gone when you woke up?”

Steven nods.

“Yeah, this morning. Must’ve worn me out ‘cause I slept straight through.” He gives you a small shy smile that fades quickly when you don’t return it. “Was nearly late for work.”

You’re still reeling, your mind stuck on the bit where he doesn’t remember interacting with you in the middle of the night at all. (Maybe the idea of it being not your Steven isn’t so far-fetched after all?) But Steven doesn’t give you any time to consider; he barely even pauses for breath before barrelling on.

“I don’t blame you for leaving, of course, but I can’t help thinking that I must’ve–” he cuts himself off, gaze dropping to the floor like he can’t bear to look at you. “Look, you... you have to know by now. How dodgy my memory is sometimes. Missing dates or showing up on the wrong day and all that, yeah? Sometimes things happen that I don’t remember. I do things that I don’t remember. And I can’t bear–” 

He breaks off, swallows hard, and finally looks up to meet your eyes. His gaze is serious and direct in a way that almost reminds you of last night, except that there’s no hint of that dreadful, supercilious amusement.

“I can’t help thinking that I must’ve done something, and I’m– I’m sorry if I– Sorry. I– Just please.” His eyes are huge, round and still so open and honest, and there’s something else there too as he continues, “Please tell me that I didn’t do anything to hurt or upset you.”

Fear. It’s fear you’re seeing in his eyes and written across his face. You recognize it now, and you think your heart might break over how scared he looks. Completely terrified over the idea that he might have hurt or upset you.

“Steven... ” You hesitate, brow furrowing as you trail off, not sure what to say or how to describe what happened last night.

“Oh. I– Oh. I did, didn’t I?” He looks vaguely sick at the idea and starts to back away, the hand holding the roses dropping to his side as he hunches into himself all over again, spewing apologies twice as fast as before. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m– Oh God, what did I do? Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ever– Or would I? Guess I did, didn’t I? God I’m– I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine why I would…”

This whole conversation has been a lot to take in, but Steven is clearly distraught, set to go on self-chastising indefinitely for something that seems to be out of his control. You hate to see him this way—it’s painful to watch his quick descent into misery and self-hatred.

“Steven— Steven!” You try to interrupt his spiral, but he doesn’t even pause. You don’t know what to say to break him out of it, so you stop him the best way you know how.

Surging forward, you grab onto the lapels of his jacket to hold him in place while you press your lips to his. It’s a little awkward—Steven is still talking, mouth open when you make contact, and you misjudged the angle slightly—but it does shut him up rather handily.

His eyes flutter closed and he melts against you with a moan so sweet that you want to tuck it away in a keepsake box and keep it all to yourself. When you pull back a moment later, his eyes are half-lidded and dazed, and he’s wearing an expression like he’s forgotten how to carry out the simple task of breathing. 

“It’s alright, Steven,” you soothe him and it is. With him anyway. You’re not sure what’s going on exactly, but you know you lo– that you care about Steven a lot and don’t want to lose him to… whatever it is that happened last night.

He blinks, gaze focusing slightly as he’s coming back to earth. Then he really looks at you. And the dazed confusion is coloured with something akin to hopefulness in those wide eyes. 

“So, I didn’t… do anything to hurt you?” Those round, pitch dark eyes are so sincere. So ridiculously vulnerable like he was never introduced to the concept of self-preservation. Steven is the living embodiment of wearing his heart on his sleeves to the point where you worry for him sometimes. 

You shake your head no, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight of him, because when that sincerity is pointed in your direction you can’t help the swell of affection in your chest.  

And it’s true. 

He didn’t do anything to hurt you. You were unsettled at worst, and you’ve got the beginning of a suspicion that somehow it may not even have been Steven you were dealing with last night at all.

“So we’re... um...” he pauses and licks his lips, hesitating, and you try not to get distracted by the way his pink tongue slicks over the swell of his bottom lip, “We’re good then, yeah?”

You nod, smile spreading wider despite yourself. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“You’re... You’re sure?” he presses. He’s still gazing at you with those dark puppydog eyes, uncertainty painted across every line of his face. One stray curl has furled up against his forehead as he bites down onto his bottom lip, worrying the plump flesh. 

You reach for him without thinking, wanting to reassure him, and you pull him in to plant another short, chaste kiss against his lips.

Eager for you as always, Steven meets your kiss. Soft, warm lips pressed to yours for a long moment, and then he’s licking into your mouth with a hungry enthusiasm that has your knees ready to go out from under you. His free hand comes up to wrap around your back, and you bury your own hands in his riotous curls as he kisses you hard enough to bend you back over his arm. 

Steven’s kisses are always ravenous, but this time in particular, he kisses you like he’s seeking salvation from your lips; like you’re water when he’s dying of thirst, and he’s determined to consume all of you that he can get before you change your mind.  

You have to plant your hands on his shoulders, barely managing to pull away from his lips long enough to catch oxygen into your lungs. He releases you with obvious reluctance, and your knees are weak enough that you take a moment to be sure they’ll hold you before you take a step back to look him over, drinking in the sight of him. 

Collar askew, curls a frantic mess over his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, just a hint of uncertainty lingering in those big, dark eyes.  Fuck, he’s so damned gorgeous.

And okay, yes, you want to reassure him, but you’re certainly not opposed to messing him up a little bit more in the process. Messy is such a good look on him after all. 

You sneak a quick glance at the wall clock above—6pm, after office hours. 

There may still be some unlucky souls still working upstairs in the office space, but no one is going to be using these ground floor meeting rooms at this hour. No one except you, that is, and you know exactly what you want to do with that privacy.

Grasping Steven’s collar, you tug at it to lead him further into the room. 

He follows without resistance, but clumsily, nearly tripping on the carpeted floor. Too busy staring at you to watch his footing. He’s like a puppy learning to walk on a leash, and it’s adorable. 

You lead him to the mahogany conference table, and take the bouquet from his unresisting hand, laying it down gently on the table top before pulling out one of the large rolling office chairs. A bit of manoeuvring, and you’ve got Steven standing in front of the chair with his back to the door, just in case. 

He gasps when you drop to your knees in front of him, and makes an abortive movement like he meant to catch you by your shoulders but was too slow, leaving his hand hanging there uselessly in midair.  

The rough carpet scratches at your skin through your tights, but you keep your attention on Steven as you make quick work of unbuckling his belt. 

You can see the moment it dawns on him exactly what your intentions are. His eyes grow comically large, tongue darting out in a nervous fit to lick over the swell of his lower lip.

“Wait, wait. What are you–? There’s people outside. We can’t do this here, can we?” He sounds scandalised, and it makes you want to show him just how scandalous you can be.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, nuzzling at the crotch of his jeans and breathing in the scent of him, before the soft whisper of the metal zipper being lowered fills the room. 

“We shou—oh fuck, that feels so…—Shouldn’t be doing this though, should we?”

For all his protesting, Steven is already half hard, the incriminating evidence pressing against the front of his underwear. His throat constricts as he swallows, a nervous reflex.

You still, fingers hooked into the edge of his jeans and underwear, and peer up at him. 

“Steven. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” The response is instantaneous, accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his head. “I-I– Don’t stop. Keep… um… keep going, please. If you want to.” 

“Good.” You tug down the jeans and pants down over the ample curve of his ass to his thighs in one fluid motion, and his cock springs free from the constraints, rising to slap gently against his stomach. 

“Then sit down.” You wrap both hands around his hips and give the gentlest of pushes, but he drops down so forcefully it’s like you’ve tackled him. 

He’s so distracted—eyes wide and shell-shocked and glued on you—that he nearly misses the chair, not quite making it square in the seat. The chair wheels squeak noisily, as his momentum sends it rolling backwards away from you. 

You blink in disbelief. 

"Oh bugger. Sorry, sorry. Let me just...” Steven, clearly mortified, tries to course correct, planting his feet to kick forward, but he miscalculates the trajectory and sends the chair into a spin instead. “Oh god, I'm so sorry." 

Giddy relief fills your chest, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in your throat. Dear God, why are things with the two of you always like this? It’s practically a comedy of errors. 

Still, if there was any doubt before, it’s definitely gone now. This man—the man in front of you, awkward and fumbling and sweet—is your Steven. 

You shake your head and climb to your feet, still smiling as you walk over to him. Planting your hands on the armrests, you force the chair to a stop. Steven’s horrified expression, now inches from your own face, nearly sends you into another fit of giggles. 

“Stay,” you order with a fond smile. “Don’t move. Just relax, alright? I’ve got you.”

While Steven is normally very good at taking orders from you, this is one that he entirely fails to follow. His whole body remains tense, fingers flexing as they hover nervously in the air until you take them and guide them to the armrests where they grip and hold on tight.

You drop to your knees again and lean forward until you’re caged in by his spread legs on either side of you. Steven lets out a breathless gasp even though you haven’t so much as touched him yet. 

On your knees like this, your face inches away from his cock, you get an up and close personal view that you weren’t privy to the night before. The head is flushed dark pink and it shines slick with the precome that’s beading at the blunt tip. 

Even his cock is ridiculously pretty. It’s really not fair. 

This close the scent of him is even stronger, clean, with a hint of musk and something altogether Steven. Parting your lips, you ghost your breath over him, relishing the way he practically whines at the sensation, his cock twitching and jerking, more precome welling out to drip down the impressive length of him.

So sensitive, your Steven.

You dart out the tip of your tongue to lap up the runner of liquid. It’s a barely-there touch, but from the sound he makes, you’d think you had punched him square in the solar plexus. The choked-out, pitiful sob makes the blood in your veins sing. 

You do it again, just to see if he’ll make the same noise.

He does. 

Then again, and he moans, long and breathless, and it shivers through you. Makes you want to see what other sounds you can pull from him. But first you pull back for a moment.

“Shall I continue then?” you ask, pretty sure you know the answer already.

“Yes, please. God yes.” His voice is breathless, desperate, and you can’t help the self-satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and it jumps in your grip, thick and hot and throbbing against your palm. You love how reactive he is. Looking him in the eye, you drag your tongue against your bottom lip to wet it for him. Then without further ado, you wrap your lips around him.

“Shit. Oh bloody–Shit.” His whole body stiffens under the assault of your mouth, and you can feel him pulsing on your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you savour the sounds he makes for you. Keen little noises and punched out gasps like you’re holding him under water and drowning him in sensations until he can barely breathe. 

His reactions, the way his cock twitches, the sweet tang of precome on your tongue; it’s all perfect, and your stomach clenches with arousal and the aching need to touch yourself. 

It’s tempting, so tempting, to slip a hand under your skirt and indulge in your own pleasure, but you want to stay focused on Steven right now. Want to be able to take in every minute detail of his response to you. So you keep your hands wrapped firmly around the base of him as your mouth inches down, taking as much of him as you can before backing off again to tease him with just the tip of your tongue. 

"Oh God, oh God, that feels amazing. You're so--oh fuck--so good at this… I mean why wouldn't you be? I mean... oh God.” He’s babbling. Fingers gripping the armrest so hard that his knuckles have gone ghost-white. “Pleasedon'tstop."

It is, possibly, the world’s worst and most adorable attempt at dirty talking. But it hardly matters. Steven is so responsive to your every touch, so obviously overwhelmed, that it’s impossible to take his words the wrong way. Impossible not to be aroused by his enthusiastic reactions.

When you kiss the tip of him, he keens. When you swirl your tongue, tracing shapes against the sensitive head, he’ll cant his hips upwards, in an attempt to get even deeper. When you grant him exactly that, letting him slide himself deeper into your mouth, his hands fly to your shoulder, fingers flexing there, digging in until they’re just short of painful. 

And all the while he’s watching you with awe, gaze locked on you, as though he’s afraid to look away in case you disintegrate under his hands. As though he can hardly believe you’re real.

That look in his eyes makes you burn. Makes you want to do even more for him. To make him feel as good as humanly possible. So you suck and kiss and lick every inch of him you can, your hand wrapped in a tight fist around his slick girth to work what your mouth is unable to. 

One large, shaking hand comes up to cup the side of your face, his thumb barely ghosting over the corner of your mouth where it's stretched wide around his cock before moving to your cheek. He rubs small, soothing circles over your cheekbone, gentle even as he's writhing under your mouth. The tender, doting touch sends pleasure skittering down your spine. 

Even now, with you on your knees for him, the man is trying so hard to hold back. To be careful with you. His hips barely hitching up to meet your mouth, as you lick and lap at every inch you can. 

“God, look at you. You’re so pretty. I can’t believe you’re actually–” He breaks off, gasping, then starts again, barely seeming aware of what he’s saying, “Your mouth feels so good. So fucking pretty, you are. Can you— Can you take me deeper?” Then when you hum an assent around his cock, “Oh God, oh please…” 

The words coming out of him aren’t even particularly filthy, but they affect you all the same. 

Heat blossoms in your stomach at how wrecked his voice is as he pants out how pretty you look over and over again. You can feel how wet you are—dripping into the already soaked cotton of your knickers. You squeeze your legs together, moaning around his cock when the pressure makes your cunt clench around nothing. 

“Oh. You’re–? Fuck. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Steven gasps out, and you pull back far enough to look up at him and shoot him a cheeky wink.

“God, you’re amazing,” he groans, thrusting up into your mouth just once, like he can’t help himself, then stilling. Whatever shyness or uncertainty had him tongue tied just a few minutes ago seems to be gone, and he starts to beg for you to “Touch yourself for me, love. Please. Fuck. Want you to enjoy yourself too. Please.” 

Hah. As though you weren’t already enjoying yourself thoroughly. 

Still, it’s no great hardship to do as he asks, so you pull off slowly, teasingly, and sit back on your heels to look up at him. Collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and curls in complete disarray as those dark eyes burn down into yours, he looks gorgeously undone. 

God, and he says you're the pretty one? 

You can’t help but lose yourself in admiring him for a long moment.

Too long of a moment, apparently, because his brows draw together and the light of uncertainty starts to flood those big brown eyes. His hands rise to flutter in the air, a sure sign he’s feeling insecure. 

Quickly, before he has a chance to overthink things too much, you make a show of sliding one hand down to cup your breast. Between your office clothes and sensible bra, you don’t get much out of it, but you’ve certainly captured Steven’s attention.

He looks utterly gobsmacked, mouth hanging open, and his eyes remain glued to your hand as it continues its descent down your body, and up under your skirt. His swollen, shiny cock jerking and leaking precome in an entirely gratifying manner.

You press a hand between your thighs over your clothes and gasp when even that muted pressure sends pleasure streaking through you. There’s an awkward moment as you scramble for the edge of your tights, and manage to drag them down far enough to wedge your hand under and into your knickers. 

The angle is cramped and uncomfortable, but so, so worth it to be able to rub slippery little circles over your clit. Fuck, you’re already so wet, and you can’t help but moan as you feel wetness leaking down between your thighs every time your cunt clenches.

“Oh my days,” Steven breathes, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them as his gaze flits between your face and the hand buried beneath your skirt. He seems to have forgotten about his own arousal entirely, totally focused on you.

And, well, that just won’t do.

When he looks up at your face again, you catch his gaze and send him a naughty smile before ducking forward and taking his cock in your mouth again. 

Steven lets out a gasping moan that sounds like it’s torn from his very soul, and this time his hips rise to meet you, no longer holding back. He’s all instincts and hunger now, and you’re reminded of the Steven who took control from you last night and drove you to three orgasms so intense that they left your legs numb in their wake. 

His cock fills your mouth perfectly, and it’s almost too much. You struggle for a moment to fit all of him, but then the two of you find a rhythm between you that lets you take him deep without choking. 

You rock your hips against your hand in time with his thrusts, and the muscles of your forearm ache as you chase your pleasure. It feels so good that you keep forgetting to time your breathing, but fuck, you barely care. Can’t help but love the burn of it down to your lungs. The taste of him, bittersweet and tangy on your tongue, is intoxicating and you could easily get addicted to this. To the uninhibited sounds he’s making at your touch and the taste and smell of him.

You’re overwhelmed, surrounded by him, head swimming with it. Or perhaps it’s the lack of air that has reality going a bit woozy around the edges as you match each roll of his hips into your waiting mouth with a roll of yours rocking against your hand. Your world narrows down to his cock in your mouth, his voice in your ears, and the devastating ebb of pleasure pours through you, building higher with each advance and retreat. 

It’s too much and just the right amount because suddenly you’re there, right on the edge. Don’t realise that you’re moaning until the sound cuts off when you shove forward, desperate to take Steven as deep as possible. You roll your hips down one last time, pressing hard against your clit, and that’s all it takes.

You come hard, white hot bliss surging through you as you convulse on the floor of an empty conference room, Steven’s cock lodged as deep in your throat as you can take him. 

Dimly you hear Steven’s shocked “Oh Lord, are you—? Oh my God!” and then a broken, breathy litany of “Oh God oh God oh God,”  but it hardly registers.

You hold there as long as you can, until your lungs burn and the muscles of your arm threaten to cramp and you’ve wrung every last drop out of pleasure you can out of your orgasm. 

Finally, shuddering with overstimulation, you have to pull back. Pulling your slick hand out of your underclothes, you flex your aching fingers, chest heaving as you suck in a long overdue breath and then another.

“Oh God, oh God, don’t stop.” The head of Steven’s slippery, wet cock glances off your equally slick lips as his hips rise to chase your mouth, “Pleasepleaseplease– I need– Fuck. Please don’t stop.” 

His cock is twitching in your hand in protest from the sudden lack of attention. The length of it is dripping from your spit, precome flowing from the fat tip as if it’s drooling, glistening under the ceiling light. 

You can’t help the shudder that works its way through you when your oversensitive cunt clenches at the depraved sight. 

If your goal was to make a mess of him you’ve certainly succeeded.

To buy yourself time to catch your breath, you press saliva-slick kisses along his hardened length, relishing the way Steven descends completely into incoherence.

Half sentences and broken off words, begging for your mouth. It’s a far cry from the man who was all shy nerves, and worried about people being outside not so very long ago.

And you love it. You love it all.

The sounds he’s making are intoxicating. You want desperately to hear how loud he can get, but there’s a little voice in the back of your head warning that this is not the place to let the volume become an issue.

There shouldn’t be anyone down by this hallway, but the way that Steven is carrying on, you worry the sound will carry far enough that your co-workers on the floor above, still in their offices, will be able to hear you two.

“Steven,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to the fat tip of him, “I need you to keep quiet for me.”

You tilt your head until you can sneak a glance at him. How utterly ruined he looks, chest heaving, rising and falling in tides, eyes dazed, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can’t help but smile, fluttering your eyelashes for his attention as you lap up the precome oozing down his cock with little kitten licks, savouring the way he shivers violently below you. 

You know you’re being mean. He’s so overwhelmed that he looks like he is going to jump out of his skin, but you can’t resist as you continue to tease him.

“You don’t want me to have to stop, now do you?” 

He whines at that, and if you had the luxury of time and privacy, you’d scold him again, drag out your fun and tease him just a tiny bit more.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Steven begs so prettily, shuddering below you as he stutters out, “I—I’ll be good. Quiet, I promise. Please, please don’t stop.”

“Good,” you say, then you lean down again and take him back into your mouth. 

His hand flies up to his mouth, and he clamps a wide palm over it in a desperate attempt to quiet himself. It helps some, but you can still hear the muffled groan that rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest. 

Your previous established rhythm falls apart. 

His hips stutter into a staccato pace as he thrusts into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get deeper. The telltale sign of his sharp jaw tensing, the small muscle there flexing. Those gorgeous doe eyes roll to the back of his head, his face awash in pleasure. 

God, he’s fucking beautiful like this. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him. 

From the way his thighs are trembling, you know he must be teetering on the edge even before he warns you with a hoarse and broken, “Close. I—I’m close.” 

You hum, and the vibration makes him hiss like you’ve burnt him. His hands come to frame your face, attempting to gently pry you off of him.

You let him pull you away just long enough to form words, hands still wrapped around him to replace the momentum with firm strokes to keep him on the edge, as he twitches and jerks in your palm. 

“Do you want to come in my mouth, Steven?”

He shivers, his eyes are shut tight, and for a moment you aren’t sure if he heard you at all. But then he nods forcefully, choking out a rough,  “Fuck. You can’t just– God. Yeah. Yes. Fuck. Please,” that has the tip of your ears tingling. 

God, he sounds ruined. 

He also sounds loud, and he isn’t stopping.

“Steven.” Your voice is flat, cutting through his desperate rambling. “Shut it.”  

A strangled moan tears out of him at your command, and somehow the suppressed noises he’s making are even louder than when he was babbling. 

In a sudden fit of inspiration, you shove the fingers of your other hand, still sticky with your slick into his mouth. His tongue drags against you, and he gasps around the intruding digits. At the same time, you lean down to take him as deep as he goes, swallowing down the urge to gag when he hits the back of your throat. His body goes rigid, throwing his head back and baring his long graceful throat to you with a muffled groan. He suckles at your fingers, mouth hot against your sticky skin, and you can feel it the moment that he comes. His cock pulsing warm and thick against your tongue, as he floods your mouth, tangy and slightly bitter. 

It’s quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced, and it makes you want to drag out that pleasure for him and ruin him even more. 

You hold him in your mouth, tongue lavishing at the stiff underside of his cock, your own fingers pressing against his tongue as he writhes underneath you. You don’t let up, drawing things out until his thighs are shaking violently beneath you and you’re sure that the overstimulation must be bordering on the painful.

Only then do you pull away, sitting back to take in the sight of Steven. Rosy-flushed cheeks, and half-lidded eyes boring into you. He’s staring down at you like you’ve hung the stars and moon in the night lit sky one by one. 

All of a sudden, you find yourself feeling almost shy under that loving gaze. Flustered at the adoring attention from him. You feel silly to be the object of that devotion, while you’re still on your knees, knickers and chin equally sticky, and the remnants of his come still lingering on your tongue. 

You don’t know what to say or do next, but it doesn’t matter.

Before you can even try to figure it out, Steven surges forward, dropping down to his knees in front of you and closing the distance between you to crash his lips against yours. He licks into your mouth with frantic desperation, apparently uncaring that you still taste of his come. 

You can taste yourself in his mouth as well, as Steven devours your mouth with a hungry fervour that you’ve come to associate with his touch. 

It’s sweet; it’s depraved; it’s ravenous. 

It’s all the contradictions of Steven himself wrapped into a kiss. And for better or worse, it’s something you’re not sure you can live without anymore. 

Eventually he slows in his pace, until the one kiss dissolves into many, syrupy and languid in a way that makes the air around you thin. And then...

“God, I love you.” He sighs the words gently into your mouth, so blissful and contented that it takes a moment for you to realise what was said.

You stiffen in his arms as his words fully register with you. Pulling away, you draw back enough to see Steven’s face, not entirely sure if you heard him right until you see the complete adoration in his eyes.

Oh. Oh wow, he really does mean that doesn’t he? 

The expression on your face must betray how stunned you are by his confession, because Steven’s brows draw together in concern and he immediately starts apologising.

“Sorry. Should I… um. Should I not have said that? Not the most romantic moment, is it? Course it’s not. Confessing after you– you–” he stutters, clearly flustered. “Well, after that.”  He flinches, face flushing bright red, and mutters, “God, I sound like a right bloody wanker, don’t I?” 

He’s right.

This was hardly the perfect time, or a particularly romantic one. And he does sound like a bit of a wanker.

Your eyes meet, and he flinches, eyes worried and voice hesitant, as if he did something grievously wrong to offend you. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I did, didn’t I?” He drops his gaze, as though he thinks he’s committed some grievous wrong to offend you.  “I’m sorry, we can pretend I never said it if that’s what you want.” It clearly pains him to make the suggestion, but he makes it anyway. “I don’t– I don’t want to lose you.”

That’s the thing with Steven. 

He's all in. 

Whatever else he has going on, Steven’s never been half-hearted about this, about you.

He doesn’t time his moments or play tactics to win you over. Whether it’s bravery or stupidity, you can’t tell, but he’s always been open and vulnerable with his feelings, even that very first night at the restaurant, when his eyes lit up at the sight of you. They’ve always been right there on his sleeve.

And right now it’s clear to see that he’s en route to having a complete nervous breakdown if you leave him hanging any longer without an answer. 

You’ve known for a while that you liked Steven, had feelings for him, and now there’s not a single doubt in your mind about how deep those feelings go.

“I love you too.” 

He looks up at you timidly from underneath those thick eyelashes with shock that’s shading into careful, dawning hope. His mouth opens as if to speak, but then he hesitates for a long moment, jaw working, like he’s too scared to ask you to repeat it in case he misheard or you’re playing a practical joke on him. 

“Yeah?” he asks eventually, voice whisper-soft.

You don’t answer him with words. 

Instead you nod, pulling him close until you can kiss him again. Removing any lingering doubt that still might remain—for both of you. Whatever yesterday night was, you meant every one of those three little words, and want to stay to figure it out. 

It’s you and Steven, red flags be damned. 

~ Continue ~

Dedication and Credits

To the city of London itself, can you dedicate a city? No? I'm doing it anyway. I'm finally home after 2.5 years of being away and I miss her so. Love of my fucking life.

@thirstworldproblemss my love, my best friend, my soul twin, clown sister. Thank you for being with me literally every single day the past year and almost a half in my pocket, on good days, on bad days, and on the boring-nothing-special days. You've kept me going all this time, and the best part of my gloomy days would be waiting for you to wake up half across the world and start our nonsense for the day. My life is all the better because you're in it. Thank you for keeping me intact and in one piece all this time.

@frannyzooey the kindest, most talented, and most supportive person. You are so loved and truly one of a kind. You give so much of yourself wanting nothing in return and your presence is my life is such a gift. Thank you for always being there with a kind word when I was about to blow my freaking casket in the last year and a half. For talking me down, for being a pillar of calm and reason when I felt like dousing things down with gasoline and setting it on fire. Thank you for being you, I cannot wait to spam you with a million food photos from this day on, that's my promise to you.

@jazzelsaur for your beautiful, curly avocado toast hair that smells like delicious onions. I love you, your baby whore 🥑🧅

@radiowallet with your brilliant big mind. For you love of the comic and nerdy. For being so absolutely fucking wonderful and supportive and kind in a word that is anything but on some days.

@the-ginger-hedge-witch this is not a dedication. This is a call out, remember when you tried to character assassinate Brendan Fraser? Pepperidge Farm remembers. P.S. I love you dearly

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant (Moon Knight) + Lap Dance:

(prompt list here)

Sweet, gorgeous, baby Steven absolutely deserves a lap dance, and once you've been seeing each other for a while, finally taking your relationship to a physical level, you decide to give him a little valentine's day surprise.

You move an armchair into the centre of his little flat, getting yourself all dolled up in some new lingerie, picking some relaxed, sexy music to fill the air the moment Steven walks through the door. He comes home a few minutes later than usual, flowers and chocolates in hand, excited to have a loving partner to celebrate Valentine's with for the first time since he can remember.

He's a little confused when he sees the repositioned chair, the dim lighting, and picks up on the unfamiliar melody echoing through his home, setting down his offerings for you as he shrugs off his coat. "I'm home love! Happy Valentine's Day!" he calls out, cheeks aching from the smile he can't hold back thinking about you as his valentine for the day. The smile quickly dropped to awestruck wonder as you stepped out from the bedroom, the way you look in your lingerie almost enough to give this sweet boy a heart-attack.

"Happy Valentine's Day my love. Why don't you take a seat and I'll show you just how much I like you." You spoke slowly, deliberately purring over certain syllables as you patted the chair in front of you, watching Steven's eyes grow wider and wider. His mouth hung open, brain completely malfunctioning as he stood frozen in front of you. It took you patting the back of the chair again for him to snap out of his stupor, shaking his head before half-tripping, half-sprinting to sit in the seat front of you. He shifted awkwardly in the chair as you guided your hands down over his chest, placing a soft kiss on his neck before whispering in his ear, "Unlike with most lapdances, today you can touch me as much as you want."

Steven could feel himself throbbing before you'd even reached his lap, his heart racing at the the way your skin was perfectly framed by your matching set of pretty underwear, the flirty glint in your eye as you stepped around the chair to face him, giving him a front row seat to take in how incredible you looked. He didn't want to admit he'd never been in this position before, so tried to form something witty to flirt back with, struggling to say anything at all. "You're so beautiful," he breathed out carefully, like if he spoke too loudly he might wake himself up from this perfect dream. You smiled at his shy demeanor, resting a hand on each arm of the chair and slowly running your body over his, feeling all his muscles tense from the contact. "Thank you Steven, I think you're beautiful too, every single part of you." You replied, emphasising your point by dragging a finger purposefully down his chest, letting it graze over his hard manhood now straining against the fabric of his trousers.

Turning your back to him, you slowly leant forward to highlight your ass before bringing it slowly over Steven's lap, a gasp creeping through his lips as your core brushed over his. Your hips rocked gently against his in time to the music, leaning to your head back to rest against his shoulder, staring up at his blushing, almost startled face. He stared down at the soft movement from your hips, the soft stretch of your stomach as your back arched against his chest, your face shining up at him happily as you watched him struggle to form breaths, in that moment accepting he would truly rather die from lack of oxygen than take his eyes off you.

His hands stayed firmly fixed to his sides, hanging awkwardly from tense shoulders, so you gently picked them up, bringing them to settle on your soft stomach, knowing Steven's hands would always gravitate to hold your waist at night, grounding himself in you. His fingers tips brushed up your sides so lightly, it was like he was solely touching you to reassure himself that you were actually there, like he couldn't quite believe you were real.

You smiled at his sweet wonderstruck face and cooed in his ear, "I love valentines day, and I'm so excited to spend this one with you Steven." His face broke into a grin at the way you said his name, his brain finally gathering enough focus to let him speak, "I think I might bloody love valentines day too now," he chuckled, eyes shooting wide again as he felt another perfect sway of your hips bringing him close to the edge. He clenched his face and gripped your thighs for a second, stopping your movement. You paused and checked his face, touching it gently and asking, "are you okay gorgeous?" He stumbled over his words as he tried to answer, "Yes, yes, really good in fact, I just, umm, wanted to warn you that if you do much more of that then I'm going to absolutely ruin these trousers." His eyes stayed firmly shut as he spoke, a mixture of feeling a bit embarrassed at his words, and the fact that holding himself back was taking all his concentration. You let his words hang in the air for a second, tilting his chin up to get his eyes to flutter open and meet your gaze.

"That's kind of what I was aiming for, sweetheart. But don't worry, I promise I'll help you get cleaned up in the shower afterwards. Sound okay?" You kept your hips hovering in their place as he thought through your proposition, before gently muttering, "right, of course, okay, yes keep going then, but only if you want to,"

You smiled at his request before rubbing your ass over his crotch again, feeling his hard dick twitching with every circle of your hips. Your lips brushed over his neck, leaving a damp trail along his jaw line until you felt his legs start to shake, his hips bucking up to meet yours with more force, craving the friction they brought. Your name spilled from his lips with a cry as he let himself go, filling his boxers with his own slick, while yours left a light mark over his trousers. He panted heavily against you, breath hot against your neck as his high washed over him.

He eventually caught himself enough to say quietly, "I got you a valentine's present too, but it's not as good as this I'm afraid," looking over at the flowers and chocolates placed on his counter. You turned in the chair to face him, still straddling his lap, pulling him in for a warm kiss before smiling, " That's very sweet, I am a very lucky valentine."

He laughed loudly before disagreeing, "I think I am definitely the lucky one here darling, you might be the best valentine there's ever been." That wouldn't be the last time you danced for him.

A Harmless Sleepover (Steven Grant Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x Reader

Rating: Explicit Smut - Gender neutral pronouns through, but AFAB reader for smut purposes - A little bit of somno/dub-con so reader discretion advised there!

Word Count: 2.9k

Author's Note: Brightening up January with a little bit of Steven Grant smut for you all :)

A Harmless Sleepover (Steven Grant Smut)

The noise was overwhelming as the rain thrummed against the windows of Steven's little flat, almost single-handedly keeping you both awake as the credits rolled on the movie you'd brought over for your date tonight. It was still very early days in your relationship with Steven, the sweet handsome museum guide that had spent a flustered hour touring you through halls before finally building up the nerve to ask for your number, but you had a very good feeling. After a dinner date and a surprisingly sunny walk in your local park, you'd suggested a third date at his place, offering to cook as a chance to get a closer look at his home and inner workings. Steven very eagerly agreed, spending all day tidying his little flat and stocking up his fridge, just so overwhelmed at the opportunity to have someone as special as you in his life and his space.

In your past relationships a third date had often meant taking your relationship physical, something you certainly weren't opposed to with Steven, but given it had taken two dates for him to build up the nerve to kiss you, you thought that might be expecting a lot from him tonight. You were very content to just sit shoulder to shoulder with him, watching him let out a giddy giggle every time you placed his hand in yours, and look at you like you were responsible for every ounce of joy in the world. But that didn't mean you weren't looking forward to the night you finally got your hands on him.

A crack of thunder and lightning behind you snapped you out of your train of thought and had you both sitting up straight, glancing out the droplet covered window in dread. You let out a yawn as leant closer to the pane of glass, taking a deep breath to steel yourself to the idea of heading out in the cold and the rain, the cosy comfort of Steven's flat much more appealing.

"You can stay here tonight if you want?" Steven squeaked out meekly, looking shocked with his own boldness, quickly trying to clarify his noble intentions, "Just because it's so miserable out there, and I'd hate for you to catch a cold love. And I wouldn't try anything! I can even sleep on the sofa?" Chivalry was alive and well as you placed a hand gently on either side of Steven's face and brought your lips to softly meet his, before he talked himself into even more of a panic.

"I'd love to sleepover, but you don't have to give up your bed for me, we can share. That way you can keep me warm." You leaned a little closer to him as you spoke, chest pressing gently against his and sending warmth rushing to his cheeks as he broke into his widest grin.

"You can borrow anything you want as well!" His mind raced with the idea of you in his clothes, wanting nothing more than for you to look like a real partner to him, and start getting comfortable in his flat, and in his life. As he rushed off to the bathroom to brush his teeth, almost tripping over in his excitement for bedtime, you took the opportunity to dig through his drawers, pulling out one of his t-shirts to sleep in and slipping off your jeans so only your little shorts remained, hidden by the low hem of his shirt. You wandered barefoot around his bedroom, taking in the piles of books and little trinkets he'd collected to make the space his own, feeling full of affection for your boyfriend as he stepped out of the bathroom and letting his jaw drop at the sight of you.

"You look - wow! That suits you a lot more than it does me!" You made sure to plant a few sweet kisses on his adoring face as you slipped into the bathroom yourself, getting ready for a comfortable night sleep, confident Steven wasn't interested in taking things any further tonight and happy to just spend the night in his strong, warm arms. As you stepped back into his room you noticed him looking a little pensive, wringing his hands together through the oversized sleeves of his sweater.

"Are you sure this is okay Steven?" You ask softly, worried he's reconsidering his generous offer.

"Yes! No! Of course! I really want you here," He shook his head to try and start his brain up again, struggling to form a coherent sentence every time his big brown eyes met your sweet, loving gaze. "It's just I need to warn you - I've been known to sleepwalk. It's not every night, but it happens sometimes, and I wanted to warn you so you're not too surprised, but then I was worried you would think i'm too weird." He frowned and let his eyes drop to the floor, so worried about scaring you off that he couldn't see how deeply smitten you are with him.

"You are the perfect amount of weird, gorgeous, and I'm not going anywhere. Is there anything I need to do if you start walking around at night?"

"I think you're perfect too." He grinned, "And no, it's actually better if you don't do anything. It can apparently be really dangerous to wake someone up if they're sleepwalking so best to just let me wander about I'll get to back to sleeping normally soon enough."

"No problem, I promise I won't wake you up, love." Sliding under the cover you pulled a corner back for him, inviting him beneath the blankets with you and pulling him close as he turned the lights off behind him. "Thanks for keeping me out of the rain."

"Are you kidding, love? Thank YOU for staying. I hope it never stops raining!" Steven choked out excitedly, squeezing you tight and giving you one final sweet kiss before he released his grip on your waist and wiggled to the other side of the bed to give you space.

You could feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you tried to fall asleep, the excitement of this new closeness with Steven painting a smile across your cheeks as you resisted the urge to turn around to see how cute he looked when he fell asleep. It felt like an hour had passed when you heard him turn back towards you, taking a peek to confirm his eyes were peacefully shut, his soft breathing and parted lips a heartwarming sight in such an easily worried man. You turned away again and let your own eyes flutter shut, head swimming with thoughts of Steven as you heard him inch closer towards you, until his chest met your back, an arm snaking over your waist so his hand could rest on your stomach. You felt yourself tense then melt under his touch, his broad hand spreading warmth across your abdomen even through the fabric of his borrowed shirt. His fingers began to move in soft shapes, tracing invisible patterns from your ribs to your hips, the gentle caresses soothing you to sleep as his other arm slipped under your neck to fully envelope you.

His fingertips came to rest where the hem of shirt had ridden up your hips, and in one smooth motion his hand dipped underneath, returning to its gentle dance across your stomach but now pressed against your tingling skin. You gasped a little at the warmth of his touch and delicate sensation against you, very carefully turning your head just enough to check he was still asleep. You could see the peaceful slumber in all his features and remembered his warning that you weren't to wake him up when he started to sleepwalk, even if his actions weren't exactly what you expected. You tried to hold your breath steady as his fingers climbed over your skin, rising and pulling the shirt up with them until you could feel the cool night air hit your exposed chest. His exploring fingers brushed over your nipple, drawing soft circles that had you stifling a sigh as he teased the sensitive skin over and over again. His other hand quickly lifted any remaining fabric out the way so it could pay equal attention to the other side of your chest, grazing his thumb over you until both nipples had stiffened as his touch, a pit growing in your stomach over what to do. You didn't want to risk harming him by waking him up, scared of what unknown damage that could do, but you weren't sure you should just let him feel you up as he slept, your own hands clenching as his teasing touch sent shivers down your spine.

"Steven?" You whispered sharply, needing to know if this was just his way of making a move, having never heard of anyone sleepwalking quite like this. There was absolutely no change in his expression, his lips parting in a content sigh as he began to knead and squeeze at your chest, his fingertips flicking over your nipples every few seconds to keep your sensitivity on edge. You took a sigh of relief as his arm on your waist started to lower away from your chest, not sure how much of this sweet torture you could take, until the hand trailed down to your inner thigh, slipping between your legs and starting to massage the tender flesh there. Heat pooled unwillingly in your belly as you thought about trying to push him off, sure he would be mortified if he knew what he was doing, but terrified of hurting him in some way if that woke him up.

As the hand between your thighs drifted higher it found the edge of your little shorts, making your whole body flinch in anticipation. One finger hooked inside the dampening fabric and slid them down just enough to leave you completely exposed. Before he could go any further you tried to inch your hips away from him, not sure if you wanted him to stop, or to give you everything he had. The moment you moved a muscle Steven's body tensed, hand against your chest squeezing more firmly, one knee slotting between your thighs to lean his weight on your bottom leg stopping you from shifting further away as he groped at your thighs again.

You bit down on your lip as he traced a line up over your slit, one finger coated in your excitement as it brushed your clit painfully lightly. Each of his fingers followed the same teasing path, barely providing any friction and only making you agonisingly more sensitive. Finally his thumb came to rest over your clit, rubbing tight circles ever so gently, the wetness from your folds helping it glide so softly over your sensitive button. You could feel a moan stirring inside you as your stomach tensed, his fingers grazing your nipples in time to his thumbs expert strokes, clenching your eyes shut and trying not to think about the way he had your body completely trapped under his weight. It felt like hours passed of these soft circles stirring up the pleasure inside you without giving you any hope of relief. Your clit throbbed at his every touch, desperate for release after so long on the edge, your orgasm held just slightly out of your reach. One finger slowly dipped inside you, your walls clenching in need around it, the limited contact sending a wave of fresh pleasure and sensation through your core without bringing you any closer to the easing the uncontrollable pressure building inside you. You could feel his grip on you tighten every time your body squirmed against his, your thighs trembling and hips bucking of their own volition, chasing the high you so painfully needed.

"Steven, please." You let out a quiet plea, unable to contain yourself any longer, the overwhelming sensation almost unbearable, your body writhing against his as desperate whimpers escaped your needy lips. Even fast asleep he seemed to hear your prayer, sliding two more fingers easily into your drenched entrance and stretching you as both hands started to move harder and faster. One thumb strummed your nipple as the other rubbed firm stroked over your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you as fast as you could take them, the sounds of your wet folds and whimpers filling the room as the coil inside you snapped and had you shaking in his arms, the force of cumming after such a tantalising weight making it so hard to stay quiet. It felt like every cell in your body was electrified, his movements not slowing down as you rode out the waves of pleasure, feeling overwhelmed by the way he touched you, the feel of his warm breath on the back of your neck, the steady sound of his gentle sleeping sighs. Those soft breaths made you conflicted about cumming as hard as you ever had on his still working hands, not sure if you ever actually wanted to stop him, or if you even could with the way his strong arms clung to you like he was never going to let you go. You could feel your pleasure building again through the way he caressed your now even more sensitive places, overstimulation leaving you panting out his name and fighting against his all-consuming grip. As you were brought the edge of another climax, no longer in control of your own pleasure and forced to take whatever a sleeping Steven wanted to give you, his touch suddenly stopped, fingers pulling away as you let out a desperate whine, so close to another long awaited release and your whole body tingling for his touch. With his arms back by his side, you noticed his eyes slowly blink open, surprised to see you still awake too.

"You still awake love? Is everything okay?" He cooed the words so sweetly you almost couldn't believe the same man had driven you to the edge of insanity and ecstasy just moments before, aching body taking control before you could reconsider. Tugging the half removed shirt over your head and kicking off your shorts, you move to strandled a very wide eyed Steven's hips, grinding your soaking entrance over the obvious erection he was barely aware of before now.

"I need you Steven. Please! Can I feel you inside me?" You paused your movements as you awaited response, hoping somehow in his sleep he'd managed to get just as frustrated as you had, watching his mouth fall open as he nodded furiously, half convinced he was still in one of his favourite dreams. You lifted your hips to tug down his sweatpants, his impressive length springing free and only making the ache in your gut more unbearable. You leant forward to run your tongue over him a few times, watching his eye roll back into his head at the soft, warm sensation of your lips, panting out,

"You feel so incredible. Oh my god. Are you sure you want to do this?" Interlaced with needy moans of your name as you nodded your head and lined him up with your dripping entrance.

"I want you so much, need you." Was all you could choke out in your daze as you slid him inside of you, the pressure already building inside you again as you felt so perfectly full. "You feel so good Steven. Make me feel so full." Every sweet, dirty word from your lips is almost more than Steven can take, no idea what he's done to deserve this but very happy to get swept along in your excitement. He could feel how soaked you were around him, pussy clenching as you rode him, running your hands down your body as the temperature inside you climbs and climbs.

"You're so perfect love, so gorgeous, too good for me. Feel bloody amazing." He moans out as his hands replace yours, instinctively toying with your nipples before one drifts down to frantically rub against your clit, Steven knowing he can't take more than a couple of minutes of something that feels this incredible. He can feel the way your hips buck in response, losing their rhythm as finally your orgasm washes over you again, vibrating through your centre and making you gush around Steven as your whole body reacts. You can feel him spill inside you, unable to hold back for even a second longer to try and pull out, overwhelmed by the incredible feeling of cumming deep between your walls as they spasm around him, his mind completely shutting down in pure ecstasy. You practically collapse on his chest as you finally come down from your high, slowly easing your hips off his before your excitement or frustration can start to build again, and hearing him whimper as you slide off of him.

In the morning Steven will tell you he thought last night was amazing, and that he's glad he didn't disrupt you with his sleepwalking. You'll tell him you're going to be sleeping over more often, and that his sleepwalking doesn't bother you one bit.

Steven Grant Masterlist (Moon Knight)

Author’s note: I’ve been having a bit of trouble with tags lately so just resharing my different character masterlists :) Also this made me realise I should definitely be writing more Steven Grant fics so please send your headcanons through! 💕

Night at the Museum (x) - Fluff

The Heartthrob on the Silver Screen (x) - Smut

Moon Knight in Shining Armour (x) - Fluff & Smut

Love Language (x) - Smut & Fluff

I Can Read You Like A History Book (x) - Smut

Take Control Of The Night (x) - Smut

A Harmless Sleepover (x) - Smut

SFW Alphabet (x) - Fluff

NSFW Alphabet (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Wet Dreams (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Lap Dance (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Masturbation + Dirty Talk (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Lollipop teasing (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Foreplay + Massage (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Lingerie (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Alleyway (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Professor (x) - Smut

NSFW Headcanon: Recording (x) - Smut (Part Two)

Reblogs always appreciated!

perish

Clarity

For Kinktober - Prompt: Rough Sex

Write-tober Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

18+ Only MDNI

A/N: Um…. Pretend this was posted yesterday. Thanks.

Summary: Sometimes you just need Steven to take control.

Pairing: Dom!Steven Grant x Sub!fem reader

WC: 1.6k

This work contains: Rough sex (duh), sex as a coping mechanism, dirty talk, hair pulling, marking, biting, hickies, fingering, PiV, maybe a little allusion to sub space, possibly SLIGHT angst but it’s not much.

Being anything but gentle with you in bed didn’t come naturally to Steven; he had his moments for sure, but for the most part he defaulted to being soft and sweet.

You made no mistake though, he could absolutely wreck you if you asked him to. Sometimes you had a day where you needed him to take you apart, usually when the stress of life was weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Today was one of those days.

As soon as you had come home from work late, Steven could practically see the tension radiating off of you.

Dinner was quiet, but behind your eyes he could see your thoughts racing. Then you started fidgeting, bouncing your leg, anything to release some of that built up energy.

He knew what was coming. And he was more than happy to help.

So when the both of you had settled onto the couch for the night, he wasn’t the least bit surprised when you climbed into his lap to straddle him.

“Is this okay?” You asked him softly, resting your hands on his shoulders. “We don’t have to if you-“

“Love, I want to,” he cut you off with that sweet voice you had been missing all day, hands splayed across your back. “And what do you want?”

You thought about it for a moment, feeling the built up energy from the day burning inside of you. You needed to let it out.

“I just need to let go,” you managed to find your words, scared that if you spoke much more that you would break completely. “Please.”

Steven’s hands at your back pulled you closer until you were leaning against him in a slightly awkward hug.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered next to your ear, one hand tangling in your hair. In one swift movement, he wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled your head back to expose your throat.

His soft lips immediately went to your neck, nipping and sucking marks into the tender skin.

Little high pitched moans escaped you, each press of his lips or brush of his teeth seeming to light your nerves on fire.

Your hips started grinding into his without you even thinking about it, making him groan against your skin as you got the friction both of you were craving.

Steven pulled away from you, letting your hair free from his fist.

“Needy girl,” he purred, bringing both of his hands around to your front to unbutton your shirt with nimble fingers. “So impatient.”

Once your shirt was undone, he pulled it off of your arms as quickly as humanly possible. You yanked his white t-shirt over his head as well, your hands immediately roaming his bare skin.

His hands palmed at your still covered breasts, kneading and toying with them. You arched your back to press your chest into his hands, still grinding your hips.

You reached one hand behind your back to unclip your bra, and Steven let it fall as the straps slipped down your shoulders.

You eagerly reached between the two of you to start fiddling with the waistband of his pants, but he grabbed your wrists in a firm grip.

“Not yet, love,” his gaze hardened, eyes darkening. “Be a good girl for me. Up you get now.”

A tad confused, you stood up from your spot on his lap and he followed close behind.

You let out a surprised gasp as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the living room and into the bedroom.

As quickly as you were flung over his shoulder, you were falling backwards onto the bed as he tossed you on.

Your body barely settled into the mattress before Steven was on top of you again, holding you down with his body weight as his lips went back to your skin.

This time he worked his way down your chest, leaving little marks as he went. He paid extra attention to your tits, taking extra time to suck light bruises across the tender skin that you knew would last for a couple days.

You loved it.

You could feel the wetness between your legs growing, and you squirmed beneath him as your desperation got nearly unbearable.

“Steven, please,” you pled through heavy breaths, bucking your hips in an attempt to get some relief.

He hummed in acknowledgement, kissing down your stomach until he reached the waistline of your jeans.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, unbuttoning and unzipping them before he tugged both your pants and your underwear down your legs impatiently. You managed to kick them off and onto the floor once they reached your ankles.

He sat up on his knees, settling between your spread legs.

“My pretty girl,” he cooed, immediately running a single finger up your slit. “Look how wet you are for me already.”

You could see his finger glisten in the light as he held it up for you to see briefly, then brought it back down between your legs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you're well and taken care of,” he promised, immediately bringing his thumb to your clit.

You tensed up like you had been electrocuted, arching your back as he started rubbing the sensitive bud quickly.

“Oh shit,” you hissed out, a choked moan getting caught in your throat as you finally got the stimulation your body was begging for.

As his thumb rubbed circles around your clit, two of his fingers nudged at your soaked entrance before slowly pushing in.

His free hand rested on your lower stomach, adding to the warmth you were already feeling.

You threw your head back against the pillows as he curled his fingers to find that sweet spot inside of you, rubbing against it with a steady rhythm and shallow thrusts.

You closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the sensations, waves of arousal pounding through you as you felt the heat in you build up faster than you thought should be possible.

There was no doubt that Steven knew how to use his hands to take you apart entirely.

You could feel the stress of the day leaving your body, like a flood of warmth and relief was washing over you.

Between his fingers in you and his thumb on your clit, you weren’t going to last long if he kept it up.

However, he didn’t give you the chance to get that far. Suddenly his fingers were gone, his hands disappearing from you completely.

You let out a quick whine, opening your eyes slowly to look at him in confusion.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you cum yet, did you love?” Steven’s sweet voice broke through the haze of your ecstasy, bringing you back down to earth. “The only way you’re cumming tonight is on my cock.”

A smirk briefly crossed your face at his words, thinking about how he never would have been talking like that when you first met him.

“That’s my boy,” you murmured with a smile, and he grinned back at you as he climbed off of the bed to shuck off his pants and boxers quickly.

His hard cock sprung free, and he let out a sigh of relief before crawling back up onto the bed.

He lifted your legs with his strong hands, hooking your knees over his shoulders.

“Comfortable?” He asked before he kept going, always a gentleman even when he was about to destroy you.

You nodded breathlessly, your hands grabbing his arms tightly as you felt the head of his cock nudge at your soaked entrance.

In one swift movement, he buried himself in you to the hilt with a soft groan. It only took him a moment to set a punishing pace, hips slapping against the skin of your ass.

You couldn’t hold back your cries of pleasure as he hit deep inside of you, each thrust jerking you forward slightly.

Your nails dug into his arms, but he barely noticed because of how warm and soft you felt around him. It was heavenly.

“Still so… shit,” he choked on his words as you squeezed around him. “Still so tight for me.”

He leaned forward, practically bending you in half as he fucked you hard and fast.

The sound of skin hitting skin mixed with moans, but it quickly became background noise as you once again lost yourself in the pure pleasure Steven was giving you.

You were barrelling towards your orgasm, each thrust of his cock hitting the perfect spot inside of you to bring you to absolute ruin.

“Ste-Steven, baby,” you stuttered out, barely able to catch your breath as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“I know, me too,” he barely managed to get out, his thrusts growing sloppier. “Come on, love.”

A few more perfectly timed thrusts was all it took for you to fall apart, clenching down hard on him as you came.

Steven wasn’t far behind, filling you to the brim as the movements of his hips slowed but didn’t quite stop.

He let your legs down from his shoulders, and they dropped onto the bed like they were simply dead weight.

Steven laid himself over you completely, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips stopped thrusting.

Both of you were breathing fast and hard, his cock still twitching inside of you as you laid together.

You felt like you could fly, completely lost in the mind shattering orgasm you just had.

You vaguely registered him pulling out of you, letting his cum drip down your thighs.

Even as Steven rolled the two of you over so you were on top of him, you felt boneless.

“Was that alright?” He asked somewhat nervously, and you couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“It was perfect, honey,” you assured him, resting your head against his chest. “Thank you.”

The Heartthrob on the Silver Screen (Steven Grant Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit Smut

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: This is very loosely a combination of my Soft!Dom! Steven fic and "I Can Read You like a History Book", with Steven getting his own back on the reader this time 😊 Thank you to everyone sending me these headcanons, please send more Steven requests/thots anytime 💕

The Heartthrob on the Silver Screen (Steven Grant)

On paper, it might seem somewhat boring to have a reliable schedule of activities with your boyfriend, but the little routine you had going with Steven had grown to mean the world to you. Through each regularly scheduled date you saw him come out of his shell more and more, growing more comfortable hosting you in his cosy apartment than he would have ever thought possible before you came into his life, effortlessly lighting up every dark corner. As his confidence had grown, so had his ability to express himself, finally putting words to his feelings and no longer resisting the urge to take hold of you when the opportunity arose, making you feel like the single most appreciated person in the universe.

Friday night meant movie night for you and Steven, your film choice this week, excitedly rushing to his familiar flat to inflict yet another rom-com upon him. Not that Steven ever complained about your choice of film, happily obliging any request you had for him as long as he spent the evening with you in his arms. But you could tell the films you chose hadn't exactly captured his attention in the past, unaware that having you so close ensured nothing in this world could draw Steven's focus away.

Tonight as you settled into your rightful spot next to him, Steven spreading his legs to allow you rest between them, your back pressed to his chest, bum nestled tightly between his thighs, he watched as you became enthralled in this week's narrative, his attention solely on you. Steven loved having you in such close proximity, the scent of your shampoo filling his nostrils as he nestled his face into your neck, feeling your muscles tense and relax as the drama began to unfold, each shift of your body weight rubbing against him in a way that drove him slowly insane as he worked up the nerve to touch you back.

As Steven watched your every move, this evening's choice of film descended into a particularly steamy scene between the leads, and while what played out on screen didn't catch his attention, your reaction certainly did. If he hadn't been observing you with quite so much devotion he might have missed the small clench of your thighs, rubbing together slightly as a blush flushed into your cheeks. Thoroughly entranced by the slight adjustment, Steven's mind flooded with possibilities, determined to make this movie one of your favourites by the end of the night.

He could hear the slight catch of your breath as his large, warm hand settled on the top of your thigh, the other arm coiling slowly over your waist to ensure you stayed put while he had his fun. You could feel the familiar tingle of excitement stirring in your stomach as Steven squeezed the soft flesh of your leg, gently easing it away from the other to ensure his hand could reach everywhere he wanted to. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you could feel yourself getting worked up, the feeling of Steven's strong grip taking hold of you enough to send your heart racing as his fingers danced in soft circles over your skin. Each faintly traced line allowed his hand to drift a little higher, thanking every deity he believed in for the pretty skirt you'd come over in that night.

"Are you enjoying the film love?" He whispered softly in your ear as his fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, feeling you tense against his hold as you nodded your head. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you rubbing those cute little thighs together? I notice everything about you sweetheart." He breathed, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of your panties with just enough pressure to send a spark of pleasure coursing through you. His arm gripped your waist tighter as he began to rub smooth strokes through the fabric over your clit, watching your head fall back against his shoulder at the relief of his touch. He kissed your face gently with a bow of his head, drinking in the content look on your face as his fingers began to move a little faster, finding a steady pace that had you sighing his name softly into the air. He kept his touch soft and sensual, teasing your clit with the exceptional friction of the fabric, slick starting to spread so the tips of his fingers felt even more sublime over your sensitive bud. Steven ignored the aching need growing in sweatpants as he felt your stomach begin to tighten under his arm, his grip keeping you pressed tightly against where he craved you most as he heard a small whine fall from your lips as you reached the crest of your pleasure, riding out the wave to his perfect touches, your chest rising and falling in a way that left Steven wanting more.

As the bliss of cumming began to subside, you tried to turn around, ready to feel more of Steven and return the favour as he sweet touches. Instead his arm around you kept you fixed in place, his voice lower, darker as he spoke again,

"Where are you going darling, there's still so much of the film left." His ankles hooked over yours, keeping your legs in place as his fingers dipped inside the sticky fabric of your underwear, humming happily at the wet mess he found inside.

"Mmm, you're so wet love, is that for the film or for me?" He teased, tilting his shoulder slightly to cast your gaze back to the screen, the characters once again locked in an amorous embrace.

"All for you Steven." You managed to moan out, his thumb starting a new assault on your clit, rubbing rapid circles through the glossy slick, the sensation making you jolt against him.

"Thank you love, you really are such a good girl for me." He purred, eyes flicking between your squirming hips and twisting face. You could feel the moans pouring out of you as he rubbed over your slit, his fingers exploring your entrance without ever dipping inside enough to give you satisfaction where the greatest ache was building.

"Fuck, Steven." You let out with a gasp as his hand on your waist began to drift upwards under your sweater, feather light touches grazing over your nipples, the new sensation overwhelming in the current of pleasure already washing over you.

"Maybe later love, I've gotta get you all warmed up first haven't I?" He chuckled sweetly in your ear, watching your thighs start to tremble of their own accord, body trying to escape the overstimulation and at the same time desperate to feel him plunge deep inside you.

"Please Steven, I'm ready, I need your cock." You begged, trying not to succumb to the next orgasm rapidly building in your centre until you had Steven inside you.

"Needy girl." Steven teased at your desperation, pinching your nipple slightly between his fingers and basking in the way your body jolted towards him, "How about this? You keep watching the film, and when I feel you start to clench around this," He slipped one soaked finger into your hole, rubbing your walls in time with his thumbs steady rhythm, "I'll know you're ready for my cock." He kissed your forehead before nodding back to the screen, watching as you fought to keep your eyes open, breathy moans drowning out the dialogue so just the characters carefully directed intimacy was left on screen. Even with him limbs restricting your movements, Steven could feel your hips squirming against his throbbing manhood as you started to come unravelled again, this time louder and messier than before. The gentle shapes traced over your nipples had your back arching into his touch as you felt yourself clench down around his one unsatisfactory digit, his unrelenting attention to your clit leaving your pussy aching to be filled by your sweet boyfriend as a fresh wave of wet excitement coated his hand, and your underwear, which he was all too happy to remove for you. Your legs seemed unable to lift themselves as he tugged the soaked panties down your thighs, tucking them in his pocket to ensure there'd be nothing in his way if he wanted to continue this worship of your body later that night, picturing himself running his tongue between your folds just as you thought you were about to drift off to sleep.

Finally freeing himself from the straining fabric of his sweatpants he pulled you up onto his lap, running his length teasingly through your folds, watching you flinch every time his glistening tip hit your throbbing clit,

"Are you sure I shouldn't make you cum a few more times before I give you this?" He asked with the hottest sincerity as he tapped your clit again, your pleasure meaning far more to Steven that his own.

"I need you inside me Steven, please." You cried, shifting desperately in his lap, trying to line him up with your entrance, aching for relief.

"So good for me." He groaned proudly as he finally thrust himself inside you, filling you up completely and making your whole body shake as your aching core started to get the friction it craved. "You have to hold still love." He teased as he pulled your back against his chest, one hand still latched to your chest, keeping you still as he bent his knees and use his new found leverage to buck his hips up into you harshly. Words were beyond your grasp as Steven sang out your praises, each buck of his hips punctuated with a verbal token of affection, matched by a brush of your nipple and a graze of your clit. Your whole body felt alive with pleasure, every wave of sensation making you melt against Steven's touch, helpless to hold back as the pressure inside you started to build again.

"You feel so good love, so perfect for me. Like I was made to be inside you. Every bit of you so perfect for me to play with," His fingers giving your clit a moment of respite from his strumming as he moved his hand to your ass cheek, giving it a firm squeeze before letting his fingers explore it's curves, "I bet if we got you excited enough, you'd let me in here too," He breathed excitedly, own hips bucking erratically at the thought as his slick finger traced the tight ring of muscle no-one had ever touched before.

"Steven!" You cried out almost painfully overwhelmed, every part of you alight from the gentle touch, unsure if you wanted him to give you a break, or never stop at all. His fingertip brushed the clenched hole again, watching you struggle against his grip before his hand settled back between your thighs, gathering up the drips he'd drawn from you there before returning to your clit with renewed attention. His fingers worked flat, broad strokes over you, rhythm as unrelenting as the bouncing ruts of his hips as fought to groan out,

"We'll save that for another night, for now I want one more, for me (y/n), let me feel you cum on my cock, let me hear how good you are." Your every muscle in your body seemed to shake at once as you came again, the clench of your walls making you feel even tighter around Steven, your name filling the air as his own release filled you, another intense wave of pleasure you rode out before crashing back to earth, all but collapsing in Steven's arms.

"You're amazing love." He sighed out happily, softly kissing the top of your head, not yet willing to remove his hands for you body as he eased himself out of you.

"You're amazing Steven." You half-moaned, every cells of your body still tingling as you tried to take your first steady breath in what felt like hours. Steven watched as your chest danced against his hand, noticing the slight trickle of his cum emerging between your legs.

"You know, we might have to start the film again. I've not been able to follow any of it." Steven joked, his laugh shaded with a dark edge, your stomach tightening again as his fingers finally withdrew from your clit, only to settle slightly lower, his middle finger pushing inside you, slowly fucking his own cum back where he felt it belonged.

Some people might find a schedule of dates with Steven boring, but you certainly never did.

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Sex Tape: (prompt list here)

(part two of these 'recording' headcanons)

- After the heart-warming success of his first accidental intimate recording with you, Stephen would find himself revisiting that tape over and over again. Any time you have to leave him for a weekend alone, out comes his little camcorder so he can eagerly relive that special night and try his best to make up for missing your touch that night.

- But as much as he loves that precious gift you left him, he can't help but want to make a new one, something you both create together and maybe even equally could enjoy together on another night. He wouldn't be able to ask out right though, instead he'll drop a dozen tiny hints, mostly about how much he loved that first tape, and how incredibly beautiful you look when he's making you feel good, and how much he loves you, and loves having that precious memory documented to relive over and over.

- You'd of course give in to his less than subtle suggestions pretty quickly, his response to your video just the sweetest thing you could have imagined, and feeling so safe with Steven that you don't have a single worry about that footage going anywhere, or looking less than perfect, or anything like that because you know that man respects and worships every cell of your being.

- You pick a date for your very special date night, picking out a new set of lingerie for the occasion (and because it's so fun to surprise Steven with something new and watch his little brain immediately melt down to a mumbling mess.) By the time you get to his flat there's more candles lit than in a cathedral, and he's spent a week's pay of a very special bottle of wine that you once got as a present and so generously shared with him, on a night you two passed giggling sweet nothings to each other.

- After a glass of that sweet thoughtful gesture you two find yourselves all hands again, so giddy with excitement as you stumble towards the bed that you almost forget to turn on the camera, Steven reluctantly pulling himself away from your lips just long enough to oh so kindly ask,

"Love, are you sure you're alright with this? We don't have to if you're worried at all, I'm just so grateful that I even have one video of you. Or that I get to do this with you at all." You cut him off before he can start monologuing about what a privilege it is to be in your life in any role, the lovestruck man staring at you with stars in his eyes, so in awe of everything about you.

- You suitably reassure him that you feel just as lucky to love him, and finally you start the camera filming, pulling him towards you until you're confident he's framed in the shot, slowly moving your lips to his neck. As you lick and kiss your way along his throat, drawing soft strangled sighs from the nervous boy, your fingers trace down his shirt and start pulling it at his buttons one by one, until finally you can push it off his shoulders and reveal his broad chest to you and the camera. You can't stop yourself from running your hands over his muscles, looking forward to rewatching this moment and stopping Steven from folding inwards or hiding himself from the camera. You can tell he's still up in his head a bit, not as passionately exploring your form like it holds the secrets to the universe the way he usually does.

- Trying to draw his focus, you tip him back on to bed and climb on top of him, pulling your dress over your head and giving him a full view of the special outfit you had on underneath. His jaw drops and his eyes practically shoot out of his head as he starts excitedly babbling about how 'truly perfect you look' and how 'every colour seems to have been made for you', and suddenly his stage fright is forgotten and he's pulling you back in for a kiss as his fingertips trace along the lacy fabric, before slipping underneath your panties and rubbing slow circles against your clit. You find your hips moving in time with his rhythm, the excitement of knowing Steven would be able to watch this moment again enough to heighten the sensations. As your temperature starts to rise and your thighs start to twitch you make a point to arch your back and gasp out his name for the camera, immediately earning a groan from Steven as he starts to buck against your hips.

- You pull his fingers out of you with a whimper, and make quick work of undoing his belt and sliding his pants down his legs until his manhood springs free, letting you take a long slow lick of him that has Steven panting and begging for more. As you slip your lingerie to the side, mounting his lap and hovering just above his leaking tip, you notice his eyes drift behind you, the red blinking light pulling him back to reality from his throws of passion.

- Less than pleased that Steven is able to look anywhere but up adoringly at you, you slam your hips down against his, taking his full length in one breath and clenching down on him at the deliciously full feeling of having him buried inside of you. Right on cue his turns his attention back to you, gazing up at you in shock as you cup his face in your hands and state very clearly in your most seductive pur,

"Now Steven, the least you can do is keep your eyes on me."

"I'm sorry love, I just remembered about the - but it doesn't matter, I promise, I only want to look at you." Taking mercy on him, you start to roll your hips, before you finish your negotiations,

"That's good to hear, because any time you look at that camera, I'm going to stop moving." You pause your riding in emphasis as his gaze turns pleading, nodding quickly and begging you to move, promising to be good as you go back to sliding your hips against him, drawing out louder and louder groans that start to fill the room around you. You watch as his eyes trace along your content face, your bouncing chest, your wiggling hips, and finally your glistening entrance where he can see himself glide in and out of you, your own excitement dripping onto him with each thrust. It's almost too much to take and he feels his climax quickly approaching, his fingers returning to strum against your clit as he tries to hold off his release. Then his eyes dart behind you for a split second and suddenly his building pleasure starts to drop as you still your hips, desperate apologies falling from his lips in a plea.

"I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to, please keep going, you feel so incredible..." His core is aching with the tension bubbling inside it, so close to release and having no choice but to let you sit there on his throbbing erection until you see fit to forgive him. Luckily for him it's very hard to act mad at those puppy dog eyes, and when his touch feels so good between your thighs you know you won't be able to hold off much longer either.

- "I just need you to keep those beautiful eyes on me okay Steven?" You sound merciful, and he lets out a sigh of relief, until you add "and definitely don't let them close."

He's about to ask what you mean when suddenly you start bouncing on him with every ounce of strength in your thighs, riding him faster and harder as you feel him start to tense beneath you. He keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours, mouth hanging open in sheer ecstasy as he watches the confident smile on your face start to fall into an o as you get closer and closer the edge. He works you with his fingers, holding back his own climax and praising you as you climb higher and higher, finally crying out his name as your wall clench around him, your whole body shaking with the overwhelming release as pleasure washed over you. Steven is right behind you, his hips lifting up off the bed as he erupts inside you, legs trembling and hands clutching at your waist, making sure you can't possibly climb off of him.

- You collapse against his chest, resolved to spending a little longer with him deep inside you, Steven's arms only coiling around you tighter as he presses soft kisses to your forehead and pants out that he loves you so bloody much.

- It takes a little while for either of you to get up to turn off the camera, Steven finally volunteering to leave the bed, only to grab the camera of its stand, step back towards you, aiming the lens at your satisfied face before letting it drift down your spent body, stopping when he sees his own load drip out of from between your legs and feeling himself start twitching with excitement again. The last sound the camera picks up is Steven mumbling quietly to himself, "how did I ever get this lucky?"

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Recording: (prompt list here)

(Part Two Here!!)

- When Steven Grant bought a little camcorder and stand a few years ago, he had very innocent reasons in mind. Yes, the stand was set up so the camera pointed straight at his bed, but it was to capture exactly why we woke up so exhausted from a night of tossing and turning alone, not for anything more fun than that.

- Naturally anytime you were coming over, he'd carefully stash the device away, not wanting to creep you out or do anything to risk making the most important person in his life uncomfortable. He knows just how lucky he is to be the man that gets to worship your body, and even though he'd die for the chance to relive every one of your intimate encounters, he thinks it's way too weird of a question to ask.

- That is until one night you surprise him at home, on your way back from a girl's night and missing your sweet, nerdy boyfriend. He's over the moon when he opens the door to your bright, smiling face, quickly surrendering to your hypnotic kiss as you lead him to the bed he was all but ready to settle into for the night alone.

- Your hands are pushing his shirt off his shoulders, while his hands slide up your dress, clawing at your thighs until they spread enough for him to fit between them, when you first notice the blinking red light.

"Steven, gorgeous, how long have you had a camera in your bedroom?" Instantly he's mortified, apologising and tripping over his own feet as he launches off the bed, practically crawling across his bedroom floor to turn off the device,

"I'm so sorry love, I didn't realise you were coming, and it's to help with my sleep walking, and I swear I always put it away whenever you're here, I'd never violate your privacy like that." He's struggling to take in breaths as each sentence catches in his throat, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he watches you pull down your skirt and hop off the edge of his bed, picking him up off the floor and bringing your hands to softly cup his face.

"It's okay, I believe you. I trust you Steven, I was just surprised is all." Your gentle words slow his heart back to a steady pace, the tender press of your lips to his enough to reassure him that this isn't the breaking point he always assumes is right around the corner. Each kiss is quickly followed by another, Steven completely entranced by you, enough so that he doesn't notice as you press the record button again, throwing the camera a showy wink as you lead him back to bed again.

- It's not until a few days later, texting Steven from a hotel during a weekend away that you let him know about your little tape. He's desperately fighting the urge to plead over text for you to come home early, settling for telling you just how terribly he misses you, three little words hanging on the tip of his tongue, not quite bold enough to let them loose yet. You echo his longing sentiment, telling him just how much you miss the feel of his hands on your skin, his touch on every part of you, and tell him maybe he should check his camera before he takes himself to bed.

- He's sceptical as he takes his camcorder off his stand, flipping the little screen to face him and scrolling through the hours of footage until he recognises the night he last had you over. He has to cover his eyes with embarrassment as he watches himself tumble out of bed to stop the recording, but his eyes dart wide open when he watches you turn it straight back on, the playful look in your eye immediately flushing all his blood down his body.

- He realises he's holding his breath in his attempt to hear every single sound you make as the two of you step across the screen and climb back on to the bed he's now propped up in alone. He knows it was your decision, but he still feels voyeuristic and dirty as he watches your dress slide down your body on the screen, his free hand slipping into his pyjama bottoms as his on screen counterpart slides his hands over your chest, earning a happy moan that has him hardening at the first touch.

- His mouth hangs open and he watches intently as he settles between your legs, turning up the volume as high as he can as you start to pant and moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your centre. His hand has picked up its pace now, chest heaving as he watches your back arch off the bed, nipples hard in the cold night air.

- He almost loses it the first time he notices you smile right into the camera as you moan out his name, a private performance just for him that makes his heart throb almost as hard as the manhood he's now furiously rubbing. He can feel him cross the point of no return as he watched himself plunge deep inside you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips leaving no room between your two bodies, his lips desperately chasing yours. His screen self lasts longer than lonely Steven does, spilling across the empty bed as you let out the needy high pitched whine you do every time he pulls out of you to change positions. He sits there, dick pulsing in his hand as he watches your ass bounce as he slams his hips against yours, finally both spent and collapsing alongside you.

- Feeling utterly beat he almost puts the camera away, until he notices you creep out of the bed towards the bathroom, stopping in front of the focused lens to mouth three little words to him before stopping the video. If the sensitive soul hadn't already been in bed, he would have immediately collapsed to the floor. Frantically he picks his phone back up, impatiently waiting through the rings until he can finally tell you that he loves you too.

• ao3 • want to be tagged? • Requests Info • blog of fanfics I've written only • wips list • ko-fi • tally list •

• Anselm Vogelweide •

• Blue Jones •

• Cecil Dennis •

• John "Jack" Jackson •

• Kane •

• Llewyn Davis •

• Miguel O'Hara •

• Moon Knight •

• Nathan Bateman •

• Poe Dameron •

• Prince John •

• Santiago Pope Garcia •

• William Tell •

• 2023 • 2024 •

• Bingo •

• List •

• List •

• List •

— – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – -

Call me something

Fic type -> NSFW + Drabble

Warnings -> Degrading kink, sub Steven, just jerking Steven off 🤷‍♀️, cum eating too

Word count -> 972, three or four book pages

Please check out my other drabbles either on here or on my AO3, the link is at the end <3

~Masterlist~ / Drabble I made alongside this one

— – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – -

“Shit Steven…”

You feel his boner through his jeans as you half-straddle one of his legs on his bed, your knee pressing up against it.

“Ah, um, sorry love…”

He looks down, or to the side, wherever you’re not which isn’t anywhere really since you’re so close to his face.

“No no no no no, it’s cute how you’re all hot and bothered for me already.”

You say with a playful smirk as you place one of your hands on his waist and the other under his chin to lift his flushing face up to meet yours. He can’t seem to help but give you those doe eyes as he finally looks at you.

“I love how fucking sensitive you are, any little touch I give you drives you up the wall.”

Steven’s lips part as if to say something, a small exhale is let out onto your skin instead. He furrows his eyebrows as he presses his lips shut and tries to look away once more.

A spark of worry is sent through you from his reaction.

“Shit ‘m sorry Steven, I didn’t mean it like that…”

A beat of silence passes through, Steven finally says something beating you to it.

“No I… you… I-I’d like it if you meant it like that…”

You bite the inside of your lip as less-than-appropriate situations flood your mind, you lean in so your lips are nearly touching. He looks back at you with those same doe eyes.

“How far can I go?”

You trail the hand on his waist down to his hips.

“U-um, just whatever- whatever comes to mind…”

You crash your lips together in an instant, finding a rhythm quickly. Steven moans into the kiss as your hand moves to grip his hardening cock through his jeans, pressing your palm into it making his arms fly up to hug you closer.

You pull away and start kissing down his neck, sucking hickeys all down the length of it.

“Y/n-“

He involuntarily jerks his hips up into your hand, applying more of that sweet pressure he craves.

“So desperate. You’ve no patience.”

You mutter against his skin. Steven squeezes his eyes shut as a moan catches in his throat, feeling your hot mouth against it still.

A smirk forms on your lips as you realise the sheer effect your words are having on him.

You hastily unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans to reach down into his boxers.

“I c-can feel you grinning, you-you smug bastard.”

“I wasn’t tryna hide it”

His dick in hand you start to slowly stroke him, teasing the tip with your thumb.

“Oh-“

Steven lets his head fall forward into the crook of your neck, his hands sliding up your back under your shirt holding you close to him.

“You’re clingy too…”

You feel him sigh into your neck, then his breathing gradually getting faster and heavier as you speed up your hand.

“Don’t you- don’t you want me to do something?”

“No, I like seeing you like this. God I’m only jerking you off and you’re holding onto me for dear life.”

He groans and gasps slightly as you tease around his slit, massaging that sweet spot just below the head.

“C-call me something-“

“What?”

A moan interrupts his line of thinking.

“Just- just…”

“You have to know how pathetic you’re being Steven, getting off on me calling you things.”

It may just be something off the top of your head but his thighs flex nonetheless, almost closing in around your hand. He lets out a shaky breath against your shoulder.

“‘m close…”

“Of course you are, fucking slut. It barely takes anything for you to cum.”

“God-“

His grip on your back tightens as he arches his back into you, there’s sure to be marks left behind. Spurts of cum litter his abdomen and your hand.

Steven lets his head fall back on the pillow as he catches his breath, little moans weaving their way out as he comes down from his high.

All you feel you can do is look at how worn out he already is.

“You really enjoyed that didn’t you?”

“Well yea, I… I guess so.”

You chuckle quietly as you move to lay down next to him.

“I still have your cum all over my hand.”

He furrows his eyebrows.

“What d’you want me to do about that?”

He turns his head to look at you, not expecting the lusty stare he’s met with.

“You know you wanna.”

You smile as he looks at your hand held in front of him, then back to you. He purses his lips and can’t help but look back at your hand once more.

“Come on, I can practically hear you thinking it.”

You swing a leg over his waist and hold your fingers to his lips. He opens his mouth and starts to lick his cum off of your hand.

“That’s it, clean up your mess.”

He looks up at you as he licks a fat stripe up your wrist to the tips of your fingers, then going back and gathering the rest of it up. You can feel his breath against your hand, and how he clings onto your forearm so tightly preventing it from moving anywhere.

You reach down to him with your other hand and thread your fingers through his unkempt hair.

“Don’t waste any of it Steven…”

You narrow your eyes, he groans against your hand and both of you furrow your eyebrows.

He finally gets all of it off your hand, sucking a bit on the ends of your fingers just to tease.

“There…”

Barely a murmur out of him and he lets your arm go, awkwardly placing them at his sides not being entirely sure what to do with them.

You tighten your grip on his soft curls making him tense up beneath you.

“My turn.”

— – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – -

My AO3

𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Steven Grant x Fem Reader

Summary: Anxious about Stevens's distance, you confront him about a situation that happened while reading one of his books. Little did you know the reason for his distance was to keep temptation away.

Genre: Smut and Fluff

Warnings: Somnophilia, dubcon!, teasing, unprotected sex, pet names (doll, love), P n V, slightly Pervy Steven, dry humping, steven slightly fighting his urges, creampie

You tried to hide the concern on your face as you notice Steven's eyes avoiding yours ever since you walked in.

You had no clue what you did for him to be doing this. Suddenly your mind flashed back to 2 days ago, you were reading one of his many books about Egyptian mythology. While putting it back on his shelf, a few books fell and one happened to land flat open causing one of the pages to slightly rip.

Steven reassured you it was ok, but you started convincing yourself it did bother him, he was just being his usual sweet self to avoid conflict with you.

“Steven?”

You can see his body tense as his name rolls off your tongue “y- yeah?” he shakily replies as you sit beside him.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t looked at me or even spoken to me since I got here. Do you want me to leave? Give you some space?”

Steven almost falls off the bed in protest “NO! No no”. “It’s about the book isn’t it? I already ordered you another, it’ll be here soon” you nodded. You can see the confusion on his face “Book? What book love?”

“The book that fell off your shelf when I was putting one away remember? The page ripped a little?” You mutter while feeling the guilt of ruining one of his beloved books fill you.

Stevens's face softens as he finally connects the dots, you thought he was mad at you? for a book?

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself seeing how worried you were “Doll trust must me I’m not mad, and definitely not for that little accident” he smiles reassuringly.

You feel yourself finally relax as he connects his soft doe eyes to yours. Steven felt a little guilty knowing you were beating yourself up for this whole book fiasco.

When you walked into his apartment with his favorite skirt and a silk blouses on, he knew if he looked at you once he’d be fighting himself not to pin you onto the bed and fuck you senseless.

Steven wasn’t one to show that side of himself, he kept all his dirty thoughts and urges to himself. “Come” Steven smiles, extending his arms out signaling for you to bury yourself in his arms.

Burying your face in his neck, your legs completely straddle him for a more comfortable position. His body jerks slightly as you rub up against his crotch, your soft sways as you hug him tightly making him anxious at the thought of you feeling him grow hard.

“Love you” you mutter softly as you press a soft kiss on his warm flesh, his arms wrapped around your waist, slightly lifting you in hopes to hide his growing bulge.

“Love you too doll” he hums as he places you onto his lap softly, his mind under control or rather distracting himself with counting the objects in his room to avoid his thoughts.

Both of you stay in this position, his eyes on the television as you stay cuddled onto his body. You were semi-drained from work and the stress of worrying about Steven being mad at you. You couldn’t help but fall asleep as soon as you fell into his arms.

Steven smiled at your shallow breaths, your chest rising slightly with each breath as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Always so pretty” he hums, his index finger softly running down your cheek as he places a kiss on your head.

Just as he was about to reach for the control, he heard a soft noise come from between his arms. Low whines escaped you as you squirmed in his lap.

Steven almost choked as you pressed yourself onto him, hips swaying softly as you rode out the sex dream you were having. His head falls back at the feeling, he felt like this was both the best and worst kind of torture.

It got worse once he heard his name come from your mouth, the low ‘stevens’ and muffled whines making him whine quietly.

He was having a debate in his mind. He wanted to move your pretty white panties to the side and fuck you awake, but the other protested. You’ve both only slept with each other once and neither of you never talked about fucking each other awake.

Although you’d never admit it, a part of you wore the outfit in hopes of him fucking you. The first time you both had sex, you could tell he was holding back.

His eyes were blown out, breaths unsteady as he looked down at you, your eyes closed and shirt slightly riding down just enough to let him see your plump tits spilling out of your bra.

He told himself one button wouldn’t hurt. His fingers impressively unbuttoned one of your buttons, then another, and another. By the time he finished, your shirt was fully open, the silk fabric gliding on your skin as you swayed onto him.

His self-control went out the window once he heard you beg, the soft whine in your voice as you cried his name. He needed to hear your pretty whines for himself.

His arms lift you slightly, his free hand sliding his sweats down as far as he could before moving your panties to the side.

He was burning up, his breathing louder than it was before as he ran two fingers through your puffy folds. Your cunt coating his two fingers as he took in your gummy walls.

His cock was leaking with pre cum as he took his fingers out of you and stroked himself with your slick. A loud sigh leaves him as he feels himself twitch.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he couldn’t help it, your soft flesh and pretty cunt rubbing against him as you slept.

He adjusts himself below you, a loud whine leaving him as he rubs his tip through your folds. He’d never felt like this before, his body was tingling, and eyes blown out as he watches you closely.

You lowered yourself onto him softly, his body trembling as you clench around him. Low gasps from your sleeping form as he gave you time to adjust. His fingers dug into your hips, his head on your shoulder as he kept himself calm.

His hands lift you softly, his hips softly thrusting up as he groaned at the feeling. His soft persona left as soon as he picked the pace up. His hips slammed into you harshly, your eyes fluttering open as you felt him stretching you.

“St- Steven?” You mutter as he fucks deeper into you. “I know baby, I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it” he says in almost a embarrassed voice. “It’s oka- o- it’s-” you try reassuring him but can’t manage a word out as he takes your blouse off completely.

Your body was burning, the feeling of his warm hands piercing your skin make you clench. “Love you, lo- love you so much” he seethes through his teeth.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to hold yourself up, his pretty brown curls sticking to his forehead as the sweat dripped down his face.

Heavy pants and moans fill the room as he picks up the pace.

“St-eve-“

Steven swore he could’ve came right there. Hearing the sound of your voice shakily cry out his name made him twitch.

He was lost in bliss, his eyes watching the way he slid in and out of you perfectly made him bite his lip. The white ring of slick forming at the base of his cock makes him hiss.

“Always so pretty” he hums, his hand holding your face up to his as he watches your watery eyes roll back as he pulls you into a kiss.

Both of you moan into each other, the sweet taste of ice cream from his snacking before lingering on his tongue as you sloppily kissed.

You could feel the knot forming in your stomach. Steven could see it, the way your stomach clenched and high-pitched whines escaped you.

“I’ve got you love” his raspy voice purred as you clenched around him. Your nails dig into his arms, a loud moan leaving you as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

A low chuckle leaves him as he watches you shake. His lap was a complete mess. Your slick covering his lap, slightly wetting his sweats as he sloppily fucks into you.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you doll, this pretty look on your face is driving me crazy” he huffs.

You nod at his words, the thought of him cumming in you making you clench as his breaths grow heavier.

Steven couldn’t believe this was happening, he swore it could’ve been a dream. The only way he knew he wasn’t dreaming was the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, he loved when you bruised him up.

“Go- on- fuckk” Steven cries out as he sloppily fucks his cum into you. Both of your moans synced as he fucked you full. The feeling of his warm seed filling you was addicting. You knew you’d start birth control as soon as you felt him leaking out of you.

“Love you so much, so much” he pants as you fall onto his chest. Your sweaty bodies connected as he moved the hair out of your face.

“I’m sorr-“

You knew what he was going to apologize for. You could care less that he fucked you awake for the first time, you loved it more than you expected. “Shhh” you hummed as you shook your head “Don’t apologize”.

He let out a sigh as you hugged him tightly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 ✶

Gulity Pleasure ✶

Death of Me ✶

Can’t Help It ✶

Fantasy ✶

My Love ✶

Do it Again ✶

Sugar ✶

Introverted ✶

Pretty Boy ✶

Jealousy ✶

Down In It ✶

Crazy Over You ✶

Satisfying ✶

The Boy Next Door ✶

First Time for Everything ✶

Hypnotized ✶

Talk to Me ✶

Accidents happen ✶

Get Your Way ✶

Ribbon

You can have it ✶

can you please do a smut where steven finds out the reader has a hand kink and it leads them to being intimate and he holds her neck while they were fuckin and he teases her when eyes roll or her moans getting louder because of his hands

if not ignore 😞❗️

LOVE THIS OMG… I was giggling and biting my nails as I wrote this 😝 I had to add a little Jake at the end I’m sorry </3

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐲 ₊˚⊹♡

𝘗𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘴 - @moonyflesh

𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘋𝘰𝘮 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵: Steven notices your interest in his hands so he tries to play it cool and work you up but fails :(

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Unprotected sex, lots of teasing, Steven being a tease but he doesn’t last very long :(, reader has a hand kink, p in v, language, dry humping!, creampie!, bruising, choking, Steven underestimates his strength and feels guilty about how rough he was being but you love it <333, Ft. small appearance from Jake

Steven wasn’t oblivious to the reactions you gave. It became a pattern he noticed whenever he cracked his knuckles or ran a hand down your legs, bare or not.

At first he believed he was over exaggerating things when you went silent everytime he patted your thigh. He’d watch your body tense and eyes quickly drift over his hands. He worried he was making you uncomfortable with his touch but soon came to notice you reacted just the same whenever he’d stretch or fix his long sleeves.

He put his theories to test with his sudden love of watches, folded shirt cuffs, and gold rings. And boy did he get a reaction.

The first instance he wore a black watch and a dark gray button up, you were practically pawing at him for attention. He had you in his lap within seconds, grinding you onto his lap with his hands roaming your soft skin “what’s got you so vocal love? So loud and we’re both fully clothed” he teased as he nibbled up your jaw.

He instinctively moved his hand up to your throat, rewarding him with a blissful moan from your pretty lips. Steven watched hypnotized as your eyes rolled back, your throat vibrating against his palm while your hips dragged onto his. He cockily smiled as he buried himself into the crook of your neck now discovering your dirty little secret.

“I gotta wake up early tomorrow love, we’ll continue this later” he strained, it took all his might to not give in when he saw your eyes go watery. “What?” you sadly replied “We’ll continue this later” he nodded as he lifted you off his lap and left you on the couch. You sat there dumbfounded and left with your panties a complete mess.

Steven felt guilty as you sat there with a pout on your lips but didn’t give into your pleads. But just as when Steven felt like he had the upper hand, it crumbled right in front of him.

He’d just got out of the shower to see you in nothing but a baggy tee, the angle of your leg hiked up exposing your pretty cunt.

He inhaled sharply as you squirmed in bed, your legs softly glowing as he studied your figure. “How convenient huh?” he chuckled as he plotted beside you. “Goodnight steven” you mumbled with a smile on your face, hidden from steven as you pressed your face into the pillow. His eyes roamed your body, hand instinctively running down your ass and giving it a nice smack.

You giggled as he teasingly lifted your tee up, exposing your naked lower half “I thought you said you were tired” you teased “I was but not anymore” steven groaned as he climbed between your legs and made himself comfortable. “You know exactly how to get what you want don't you darling?” he smiled before shifting himself up and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips.

You hummed in acknowledgement as he began to rock his clothed bulge softly into you, the once strong and composed Steven now wrapped around your finger. His hands ran up your tummy while he peppered kisses down your neck, quiet praises escaping his lips.

He chuckled at your pleads and shaky moans begging for him to just fuck you already, how was steven supposed to say no to his pretty girl?

“You sure are bloody needy when I leave you hot and bothered” Steven cooed as he felt your hands wrap around his wrist. He followed your eyes as they stopped at your upper tummy, right where his hands were tightly squeezing. You weren’t aware of his eyes when you lost yourself in your thoughts.

His big veiny hands flexed and mouth watering had you instantly squirming under him. Steven played into your newly discovered obsession and began to rub small circles onto your skin with his thumb “it seems like you find something interesting” he cooed, your eyes moving to his as he smiled down at you.

You shook your head, ignoring his response and pulling him in for a kiss. Both of you moaning as your hand ran down his abdomen and dragged his boxer down his thighs “Don’t tease anymore, please?” you sighed as he wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Promise” he pouted in a mocking tone, his tip rubbing between your folds and coating him in your pearly slick. A depraved moan leaves both of you as he thrusted into your warm cunt as he rapidly increases his thrust.

The sound of skin slapping and moans filled the room as his hands snaked up your body, sensually tracing every inch and curve as he fucked into you with all his pent up frustration and need.

“What’s it about my hands that has you so dumb love? You like imagining them around your neck?” he cooed. Your eyes widened at his words, your cunt pulsing around him as he wrapped a hand around your throat.

The moan that slipped past your lips was pornographic, down right sinful as you processed his heavy hand wrapped around your throat. Steven let out a filthy moan as he felt your throat flexing under his palm, your moans vibrating on his hand while your eyes rolled back in bliss.

“That’s what you needed, didn't you love? Yeahhh look at you darling” He condescendingly purred. Your shirt was rolled up right above your chest, just enough for Steven to watch the way your tits bounced with every heavy thrust.

He truly didn’t know where to look, he wished he could focus on all of you at once. You were clawing at his biceps as he had one hand spreading your leg apart and the other pinning you down by your neck.

All you could do was dumbly stare up at him and take everything he was given you. It was so overwhelming having steven stuffed inside your cunt, hips rolling against your clit, and his heavy hand squeezing at your throat. An obscene moan spilling from your lips as he pulled his hips back just to pound into you again. You went slack under him as you came with a blissful moan of Steven's name spilling past your lips.

Steven let out a perverted moan as he came inside your messy cunt. His eyes watching your pretty face stained in tears as he took in the sight of your fucked out complextion and hand around your throat.

“A- oh m- bloody hell” he gasped as both of you came down from your highs.

A guilty feeling filled steven as he pulled his hand away from your neck, noticing the slight imprint of his hand and the prominent crescent shaped indents of his nails on your throat “I- I’m so sorry honey oh m- bullocks” steven gasped as he pulled out gently and fixed you up to get a better look. His hands gently holding your jaw up as his eyes filled with concern.

Shame coursed through him as the realization of how rough he was hit him. Your hands wrapped around his wrist “steven it’s ok don’t worry” you softly spoke. “OK? How is it ok I shoul-'' you stopped his concerned ramblings with a soft kiss on his lips “I don’t mind it Steven, I really don’t. I loved it and you know if I didn’t I would’ve said the code word” you reassured.

“But we don’t have to do the whole choking thing if you don’t want to steven” you nodded as you noticed the worry in his eyes “It isn’t that I didn’t like it, hell I loved it, but I- I should’ve realized how hard I was gripping” You listened as steven went on about his concerns.

You listened and realized you truly loved him. It was cute how concerned he was for your well being. Steven managed to calm his nerves as you reassured him you were ok, a smile forming on his lips as you called it his “marking of territory”

He scoffed as he got up to get you some water and noticed Jake’s reflection coming into view from the mirror on his wall “I guess she doesn't have to hide those handprints on her ass anymore” Jake sighed with his arms crossed.

“WHAT?”

Hey noodle! Congrats babe, you deserve it ☺️ what are your thots on “just a little more” and our messy boy Steven Grant? 😈

Hi Mona!!! omg thank you sm!!! and thank you for requesting!!! and for steven?? PRECIOUS HUSBAND STEVEN??? how could i refuse ESPECIALLY because i know this boy is filthyyy and fucking needy as all hell okay ilysm thank you again!!

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, afab!fem!reader, fingerfucking (r!recieving), unprotected piv, riding, uhh squirting pls dont fucking look at me i am ashamed, overstimulation, light degradation, so much praise holy shit (w/c: 1.1K)

Prompt: "Just a little more."

It’s honestly not that Steven likes to edge himself, or has some kind of fucking superhuman stamina in bed with you.

No, you’ve sucked him off in five minutes flat before, Steven twitching beneath you while he whined, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck it’s so good, you’re so fucking perfect, shit-” while he spilled down your throat. Marc never let him live that one down.

But you swear that sometimes, when he’s got his face or fingers or cock buried deep, so deep inside your cunt, Steven forgets that he has to cum at all.

He gets lost in it, mumbling about how gorgeous you are, how wet you get for him, how good you taste. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum, how you cry and wail with every orgasm he wrenches out of your heaving body, he just wants more and more and more. Ravenous.

“Steven, please, I ca-I can’t, oh please-” your pussy makes noises that are utterly obscene, squishing against his hand as he works his fingers into you, jamming relentlessly against your g-spot. You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for at this point; for him to make you cum again, for him to fuck you like you’ve been begging for, for him to show some mercy.

But even then, it’s like he can’t hear you, eyes focused on the way you spread and leak over his fingers, mesmerized by the way you clench around his fingers. He’s been like this since the first orgasm of the night, maybe the second, but God, he just keeps going. He keeps pressing soft kisses to your trembling thighs, using his free arm to brace over your twitching hips while he plays relentlessly with your aching cunt.

It’s too much, he’s been at this for too fucking long, God, you’re leaking everywhere, the bedsheets damp with it. He just won’t let up, your beautiful, treacherous lover, and your whole body locks again with the force of your orgasm, the squeeze of your pussy nearly forcing his fingers out.

His gaze snaps up to your face in an instant, and you can hear his voice through the rush of blood in your ears, murmuring, “That’s it, darling, my God you’re beautiful, so pretty, this pussy’s so tight for my fingers, imagine how it’ll feel around my cock, yeah? How much I’ll stretch this gorgeous cunt apart, right love?”

And it’s so sweet, so gentle, the way he speaks to you, a complete contrast to how he rips you apart with orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you whine, high-pitched and needy, absolutely desperate. “You- you said it, that your cock would feel so fucking good, please Steven, need-need you.”

But all Steven does is chuckle darkly, stretching his fingers out inside you again, and you nearly scream. “Just a little more, darling, one more time for me, yeah?” You can only clench your eyes shut and throw your head back into the pillows.

And when you finally wear him down enough to ease his sticky fingers out of you, you immediately roll him onto his back. If he’s going to fuck you, you’re going to be in charge. You’re going to be the one to make him cum.

You ease his cock into you, hot and throbbing in your hand, and you almost want to cry as he stretches your pussy so good, so perfect, just like he said he would. He moans beneath you, the sound ripping its way out of his chest, as if he’s suddenly realized how worked up he’s gotten himself by playing with your pussy for God knows how long.

You work your hips into his, plunging his cock into you just the way you know he likes. He nudges into your sweet spot just perfectly this way too, and the sensitivity from Steven’s earlier ministrations has lighting arcing up your spine with every nudge, every grind of his cock into your sensitive pussy. 

A mewl escapes you, unabashed and louder than you meant it to,  when you slam down on his cock just right, the hair just above the base of his cock pressed against your achy clit. Steven’s hands fly to your hips immediately, holding you there with an iron grip.

That look is in his eyes again, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed as he rakes his gaze over your quaking body. He punches his hips up, making his hair grind against your clit in a way that makes your head spin, his fat cock somehow reaching deeper into your pussy.

“That’s it, love,” he says, “let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you, fuck, you look so pretty like this, writhing on my cock like a desperate little whore.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his words, your hips working of their own volition, on pure instinct as you work his cock into you again and again and again. It’s like you can’t get him deep enough, bouncing on his cock just like he told you to. Making yourself feel good.

When you cum, Steven groans, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake as you clamp down on his cock. A shaky moan rattles out of your throat at the feeling, your body aching with exhaustion, your pussy too sensitive as you clench and pulse in his hands. You feel like you could shake apart with the force of it, wrung dry under his unrelenting touch.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes to see his gaze trained on your pussy, and oh shit, his stomach shines with your wetness, the sheets soaked with it. You’ve never done that before, never-

“Fuck, you made me squirt, oh my God, Steven-” your body burns with embarrassment, and you start to pull off his cock in search of a towel, or something, anything to clean up the mess you’ve made of him. But his hands hold you firm in his lap, using an unseen strength that he keeps under his button-downs and jumpers, his biceps flexing in a way that makes saliva pool in your mouth.

“Don’t you dare, darling,” his voice is a rasp, all dark and ripped apart and feral. Fuck, if it weren’t for the accent, you’d think it was Jake. “One more time, sweetheart, just one more for me.”

“Steven,” you start, but he thrusts his hips up into yours, and the movement of his still-hard cock in your sloppy, sticky cunt makes you choke on your spit.

“Just a little more, sweet girl, just-” he thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, “one more for me.”