a/n: SCREAMING this into the void (YEA I KNOW I HAVE WIPS BUT FUCK IT)
---
the arrangement started when you noticed how stiff he was next to you as you watched a movie. even though his eyes were locked onto the screen, you could tell that his mind was elsewhere.
his leg bounced nervously when you looked over at him, he thought you wouldn't notice his embarrassing hardness under your shared blanket, but he was so desperate that his bulge was quite obvious, even with the extra layer.
it was the film that made him like that.
as your pick for the week, you chose a particularly adult film compared to the usual sci-fi/fantasy marathons you've been having. so far, there's been at least 3 make out scenes and 2 sex scenes.
steven's been counting.
usually, he would be fine. if the actors didn't have insane chemistry that could convince the audience that they're really in love and obsessed with each other, he wouldn't be in this position.
unfortunately, that extra touch of genuineness turns him on to an unbelievable degree. he couldn't even stand up and excuse himself the first time they kissed because he was already harder than he'd ever been in his life.
then there was you, sitting right next to him, smelling as lovely as always, dressed in comfy clothes that make him delirious. and the way you look at him, speak to him like he's a sleepy puppy. like he's a fragile thing for you to take care of.
"you want some help?" the movie was turned down low (to placate the neighbors) so he couldn't just ignore you and pretend like you didn't say something. you sound so sweet like you're offering to fold his laundry out of the goodness of your heart.
"help...? with what?" his eyes avoid yours as his hands attempt to pull a throw pillow over his lap. you gently take it out of his hand with a soft smile and plop it on the carpeted floor.
"you seem a bit stressed, steven." you sound breathy as you take in his flushed appearance, appreciating his disheveled curls and shy glances. "let me help you relax, honey."
"i dunno...what you're talking about." he continues to play dumb, too mortified that this conversation is happening, but he can't avoid it once you peel the blanket off of both of you.
"this." his breathing quickens rapidly as your hand smooths over his thigh and palms over the tent of his pants.
"oh..." you squeeze and he loses his sight for a second. "...that" he barely wheezes out.
---
you're best friends with steven -- and you have been for a while. as a long-time tour guide, you took him under your wing when he started to train at the museum (he got a promotion!) and it wasn't long before he happily let you invade his life outside of work too.
now you have weekly movie nights, alternating lunch 'dates' (if he shows up to work), and daily 'friendly favors', or hook ups if you want to be brash (again, if he decides to show up).
you spend so much time with him, you really don't understand why he doesn't get the hint and just ask you out already!
you're know he can be naive, but you're still surprised that he truly believes you're loving on him as a friend. he's so hesitant, like you'd refuse him if he tried to kiss you or hold you close, even though you've shown him time and again that you crave his touch and affection.
you can tell he really appreciates your help though, always being gentle when he uses your mouth and throat, and cleaning you up when he's done. he makes sure to tell you when he's about to cum, not wanting to make a mess, though you'd love it if he would.
at the end he always says "thank you" like the polite boy he is as if you're doing him a favor, when really, you're being quite selfish, taking everything he gives you with hidden desires and intentions. then he steps away from you with a blush, zips himself back into his pants, and pretends like he wasn't just whining and begging for your tongue.
today is different though.
today, you weren't the one to make the first move.
steven was.
"love. could we--instead of you helping me...i was wondering if i could use my mouth on you."
"me?"
"if you don't want to--"
"no! i-i...let's try it out."
--
ok, this literally isn't my fault. i've been seeing steven posts/edits/fics/ideas BLASTED on my dashboard. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO IF NOT WRITE SOMETHING INDULGENT đ
steven would cum untouched when you sit on his face<3 nd if you play with his tits he cries n moans into you<3
ANON WHAT đ€Ż HOW R U IN MY MIND??? ok ok, i guessss i can take a break from wips and write a lil something....
awwww sad little hopeless stevie can't catch a break :(
NSFW [18+] under the cut (obviously):
completely bare and sprawled out on the bed, steven is thrumming with need. your eyes lower to drink in the delicious view of his cock twitching with desperation, cherry tip slowly dripping silky precum onto your pretty pink sheets.
he's been like this all night, throbbing for your mouth, your touch, anything, but you deny him. instead, you sit up against the headboard, thighs straddling his face, hungrily watching as he falls apart for you.
his cock bobs as he involuntarily bucks into the air, hopelessly seeking out any type of attention as he lasciviously sucks you into his mouth. you watch how his abs tense when you ghost a hand over his chest, how his whole body shakes from the mere feeling of your skin against his.
sometimes you forget how muscular your little stevie is. though it makes sense, he shares a body with marc: the man who uses the gym as his therapy.
steven drinks from you feverishly, making a complete mess of himself. he's drenched in your slick from his lips to his collarbones, but still, he begs for more, eagerly laving over your satiny lips, attempting to draw you to the edge.
his whines against your pussy quickly turn into whimpers and groans as you start to roll your hips over him. he loves it when you take control, when you use him to get off.
the mattress shifts under you with sharp movements as his thrusts get more aggressive -- more needy. steven is hopelessly fucking the air at the same pace as your hips roll over him.
as much as your body urges you to close your eyes and bask in the feeling of his mouth, you can't help but stare at the beautifully broken specimen under you.
you could argue that his moans against you are almost as enticing as his slick tongue, but it's the combination of the two that ignites your orgasm. he flicks over your clit and suckles until your head is thrown back and thighs are trembling around him.
you almost collapse on top of him as he groans deep vibrations against your pulsing clit, but you catch yourself, careful not to suffocate him (though you know he wouldn't mind it). your hands grip his chest for support and you find yourself softly digging your nails into his skin as you ride out your high, so overwhelmed by everything.
you don't expect the sharp cry that rips from his throat as you grind your cunt against his tongue or the stuttered gasps that follow, puffing sweetly against your slick skin. your eyes lazily open to see steven writhing on the sheets under you, cum splattered all over his stomach, cock glistening and still hard.
you sit up from his face, laying your flushed body over his to get a closer look. your finger delicately traces a sticky trail from his stomach to his cock before you wrap your hand around his shaft.
he throbs in your hand like he didn't get the memo that he came a mere minute ago. you squeeze and he yelps, desperately gripping your thighs to keep him from cumming again.
Male reader cock warming an impatient/needy Steven Grantđ§đŸââïžđ§đŸââïžđ§đŸââïž
Your hands tighten on his hips in warning, causing Stevenâs subtle movements to stall. He tries to burrow further into your neck, and you can feel his breath against your skin as he speaks. âIâm sorry, I canât, please let me move.â He begs, thighs aching in desperation and cock throbbing with the need for release.
âThatâs not what we agreed on Steven.â You sigh, hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pull him out from the crook of your neck, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are covered in a watery sheen, cheeks dusted pink, hair mussed into frustrated curls from where heâs ran his fingers through it.
His grip tightens in the fabric of your shirt, voice shaky. âI canât anymore, love, I need to move.â He makes it hard to resist, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes but remaining still. You can feel his hole tensing around you, purposefully trying to get you to fuck him like he asked, but, you still had some work to do, and Steven was breaking his side of the deal.
âJust 20 more minutes, can you wait?â Reluctantly, Steven nods, going back to hiding his face in your neck. Twisting your head you kiss what you can reach, making sure to mumble a âGood boy.â
He shivers, trying to hide the deepening blush of his cheeks when you lightly chuckle. You reach back out to your keyboard, and Steven resigns himself to 20 more minutes.
the theme of miles always being terrified, but doing things anyway is so beautiful. even when heâs being followed by thousands of spidersonas, holding his own, hashing a plan that may just workâfinally understanding truly how much he can doâhe is terrified to let go of that glass.
in both films he jumps. but the glass breaks and shatters. first time because his hands wouldnât let go. now, because even as he pushes off, his feet want to stick. but he jumps. and he escapes. and his plan works. and he tells his mother, what could i possibly be afraid of now? and tied up, seeing a version of himself he never thought existed, milesâwho was never supposed to be spider-manâtakes hold of the situation and is not afraid.
because his name is Miles Morales. He was bitten by a radioactive spider meant for someone else, and he has never truly been the only spider-man. but anyone can wear the mask. and maybe next time the glass wonât break.
I don't know if this is within your boundaries or not but do you think you could do a short drabble of how all the moonboys would react to seeing reader with some new sh scars ? Or even battle scars ? Anything that's more comfortable for you
Hi anon, absolutely, I can do that. Hope you're okay! If you ever need to vent or even talk, don't hesitate to contact me
Scarred
Summary: You come back after a week at your parents' house, needless to say it didn't go that well
Word Count: 1.6k
Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader
Warnings: mentions of sh, hurt/comfort, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of blood
The train ride took two hours, two hours you spent dreading your whole life and choices. You should have stayed home in the first place, not because you didnât want to go back - hell, you missed your hometown - but because you knew what was going to greet you at the front door.
Memories werenât that easy to bury.
You arrived in London, you kicked your luggage out of the train with a huff and got off, you wanted to go home and curl in your bed, maybe sleep for a few hours and then pretend nothing had happened. Because nothing new had happened.
Same old shit as always. You should have expected that.
You looked at your reflection in the various windows of the shops, your eyes were sunk in and your cheeks were hollow, you hadnât slept that well, which was pretty normal considering the bed was too foreign and too familiar at the same time.
You had escaped once, you shouldnât have gone back, no matter how much your family had asked you.
âHey, sweetheart.â
Marc was there to pick you up, in your dazed and sleep deprived mind you had completely bypassed that arrangement. He was there, coffee in hand. He knew you too well, you felt tears swell up in your eyes but you forced them to go away, swallowing the lump in your throat.
âHi.â You whispered, a kiss on his cheek and a hand on his chest. âThanks.â
He shrugged and took your suitcase from your hand, he had always been a gentleman and you were pretty sure he wasnât even trying to be one; it came naturally to him. He kissed you once more, a large hand enveloped your neck and you sighed in relief.
Safe, at peace. Home.
âHow was it? Did you have fun?â He was full of hope, eyes bright as he helped you into the car.
You didnât have the courage to tell him the truth. âYeah, everything was fine.â
âHow were your parents?â
He had never met, and for a reason. They wouldnât get it, they wouldnât like him, theyâd see him as one of your tantrums that werenât going to last. They were wrong, you had been with Marc, Steven and Jake for so long that you almost couldnât breathe without them.
They also wouldnât understand him, theyâd probably call Steven and Jake âpersonalitiesâ, theyâd poke fun at it and then call him weird behind his back while he wasnât listening.
âOkay, they werenât working so they were⊠there.â
That had been the problem, they had been there for too long. They had breathed down your neck until you had bursted, late at night, hidden in your room like always. You felt like a kid again, scared to go downstairs, scared to eat, scared to breathe.
The ride was quiet, you sipped your coffee while Marc drove in silence, his calloused hand on your thigh while you kept looking out of the window.
Steven came around once you walked into the apartment, he hugged you as soon as you closed the door and you kissed him, hard. He clung onto you, he shoved a hand in your hair and pressed a kiss on your shoulder, breathing you in.
âI missed you, love. So much.â His hands never left yours, he pulled you into the kitchen with a happy smile on his face. âWe made dinner for you, itâs in the oven, why donât you go freshen up while we set the table?â
So they were co-conscious, great.
You meekly nodded and kissed him on the lips, lingering for a second before making your way to the bathroom. You didnât want to undress, you didnât want to see the mess you had made, it was going to take days, if not weeks, for the red marks to die down and fate a little.
You got into the tub, you could soak up and chill, relax, for a few minutes. You deserved it. The water was so warm you dozed off, lulled into a restful slumber by the soft music you had punt on. You didnât hear Steven come in, you were too tired and too out of it to realise he was standing in front of the tub.
âItâs not safe to sleep in the tub.â
Jakeâs rough voice startled you, you gasped and stared at him, a hand covering your stomach in a poor attempt to hide the fresh cuts. He had seen the old ones, they all had seen them and they hadnât said a word, they had skimmed their hands past them and moved on.
âHey.â You groggily grunted, eyes a little startled. âWhatâs up?â
Jake huffed out a sigh through his nose, his heavy steps echoed into the room and you froze. âThereâs blood in the water.â He approached you, stern and calculated. âWhat the fuck happened?â
You gasped when he pushed your hands away from your stomach, he stared at the fresh scars and then at you, his grip on your wrist softened and you saw a twang of pain, worry and panic cross his eyes. You stared at him, clutching his fingers while sitting up a little, you looked down at yourself and sighed, of course one of those damned cuts was still healing.
"It's fine, just-"
"It's not fine." Jake knelt on the floor next to you, he kissed your hand and clutched it a little closer, sighing. "What happened?"
You had never seen Jake be this soft, he prided himself on being strong and menacing and intimidating, but now he was tending to your cuts, brushing a soft cotton ball over them and inspecting them to make sure that they weren't infected.
"My parents weren't... I didn't have a loving family, Jake." He hummed quietly, he was busy cleaning you up and patching you over. "My dad, he- you know, he didn't want me. He wanted a child he could be proud of."
"Why can't he be proud of you?" Jake grumbled, his brows furrowed and his lips quirked into a scowl. "Fuck's wrong with him? You were a kid. I'll kill him"
"I made him that way, I made him tick."
Silence, a sigh and a pair of soft lips on your stomach. You cradled his hair and held onto him, he buried his face in your neck and brushed his fingers over your arms, holding you tight and close. Jake kissed your shoulder before putting a towel over you, trying to keep you warm and trying to make you feel safe.
"It was my fault."
"No, it was not." The grip on your arms tightened a little, you frowned and looked at him.
You had never seen Marc cry before.
"It was not your fault. Your parent's faults aren't because of you, they are like that, they weren't fit to be parents, they took out their frustration on you, you couldn't... you were a child." He opened your towel just a little, his head tilted to the side and he brushed his fingers over the old scars. "You've gone through so much, why have you never- you should seek help from a professional. This kind of shit eats you alive, you need to talk to a professional, you need help."
"It's scary."
"I know, but you have to do it if you want to get better. I can ask my doctor if she knows someone right for you." Marc kissed your lips and bundled you up in the soft towel. "We... we were all co-conscious, just so you know. Steven is a bit shaken up, he's really worried about you. Jake is plotting a murder, so sorry if I seem a little out of it, got to calm him down before he takes over and shuts me off."
You chuckled and hid your face in his neck. Marc dried you up, he put plasters on your fresh cuts and then a shirt on your body. He made you sit on the sink as he blew dry your hair, humming a song into your ear. You were grateful for them, they had taken care of you how they could, only Steven was missing. Poor, sweet Steven, you knew he was probably worried sick about you and he got scared, too scared to even pop out for a minute.
You dined with Jake, he kept brushing his hand over yours, he kept looking at you and he kept you in his lap. He asked you about your childhood, he asked you about your past and you told him, you opened up while he brushed your hair; he was listening, but he had to keep his hands busy if he didn't want to break something.
You got into bed with Marc, he checked your cuts again and put some more ointment on them, he changed the plasters and your shirt and tucked you in. His lips never stopped kissing your skin, every single inch of it was being worshipped by him and you didn't feel dirty, or broken.
"Darling?"
Your head perked up, you looked at Steven and softly smiled at him. "Yes, baby?"
"I'm sorry your family is like that, I'm sorry you had to go through it all." He licked his lower lip, his hand tightened around your waist and he pulled you in, kissing your cheek and your cheekbone. "I don't know what it feels like... Marc and Jake got the worse of it, I was never around during those times. They might understand you better than me. But- uhm, we can be your family from now on."
It broke your heart, it made you cling onto him and kiss him, fisting his shirt with your fingers while Steven softly ran his hands up and down your back. They might have not said much, but they had been there, they had tried their best and they hadn't made you feel like a freak, they hadn't stopped loving you.
A lil fic I wrote while my friend was at work and I was bored. Hope you enjoy :))
Steven Grant x gn!reader
Word count: 714
Warning/content: just fluff :))
You feel the warm sunlight on your face as you stir awake. Blinking your eyes open, you glance out the window of the small dark apartment before looking down at the body peacefully sleeping besides you. He's warmer than the light on your face as he fully wraps himself around you. It's a comfortable warmth. A safe warmth. You're bodies being tangled together like this makes you feel safer than either of you ever had in your life before you met.
Steven has struggled a lot with getting sleep. Used to be something that terrified him. He actively tried to avoid it, as to have some control in his life.
That was until he met you. You had brought some warmth back to his life. You didn't make all of his problems disappear over night, but you did make him feel safe which made things worlds better. He could finally get a good night of sleep when you were by his side. Like he is right now.
You take a moment to look at his peaceful face, half barely visible from being smushed into the pillow beside your head. You appreciate how his long eyelashes rest against his slightly flushed cheeks, how his beautiful curls flop onto his forehead, how his strong handsome features look on his soft sleeping face, how his whole body seems to relax when he sleeps next to you. God he's beautiful. Both asleep and awake.
You run your hand up and down his back a few times before your fingers make their way up his neck and into his hair. You softly scratch over his head a few times before he starts to stir.
His eyebrows knit together in confusion for a moment before he relaxes completely once again. A soft content hum comes out as he cuddles into you even more. You see the softest sleepy smile on his face before he presses it into you neck.
"Good morning, darling," you whisper with a kiss to his forehead.
He lets out another little hum, pushing his nose farther into your neck, you can feel the stubble starting to grow on his chin. His voice is thick with sleep, "Morning, love."
You can't help but smile at how cute and sleepy he is. "Did you sleep well, my love?" you ask.
"Mhm," he hums out, "s'always good when I'm next to you."
You let out a small giggle and press another soft kiss to his head. He's so sweet. "How'd you sleep?" he returns the question.
"It was alright. Had this guy squishing me all night though," you joke.
"Hey!" he shouts, pulling his head from your neck to look at your face, "you love being squished by me."
You chuckle, "I do love it."
He smiles at you. You can't help but look into his warm brown eyes. In the early morning light it looks like they were full of specks of gold. You smile back. His gaze was on your eyes too. It was so full of love.
After a few moments he leans forward to press a gentle sleepy kiss to your lips. His lips were soft and warm, you could feel the scratch of his morning stubble on your skin. You deepen the kiss as much as you can in your half awake state. You feel a deep warmth fill you body. The kiss felt so special yet so normal. You kiss like this every morning, and everytime you can feel how he puts all of his love and affection into it, and he has a lot of love and affection to give.
He pulls away, his eyes blinking open to look into yours once again.
"Hi," you breathe out.
He smiles and tightens his arms around you. "Hi, love."
"I love you so much," you tell him. It's not the first time, not by a longshot, but you know he still likes to hear it.
"I love you so much too," he start, "I don't know how I got so lucky."
Your fingers are back in his hair, brushing through it in just the way he likes. "I think I'm the lucky one, darling." you respond.
You spend the rest of the morning in bed together, surrounded by warmth and love in each others arms.
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