#Statuette of the Goddess Taweret | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doomsdaybby · 2 years

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Five Pounds & Sixty Pence (steven grant x female reader)

what to expect/warnings: switch steven (whiny subby/slightly possessive), mutual pining, steven needs to shut his dirty mouth, squirting, fingering, developing relationship.

I slightly blue balls you at the end but don’t worry about it.

word count: 3.8k

!!EXPLICIT!!

You had been on a few dates with Steven Grant over the past couple of months. The shy, charmingly awkward, beautiful man that worked in the museum gift shop encapsulated you like no other had ever done before.

“That’ll be - uhh - five pounds and sixty pence” his warm eyes glimmered, a polite smile graced his kind face, and you just about melted into a puddle on the floor. You had visited the museum for the first time with some friends early February that year, and were stupidly close to veering away from the gift shop, when the alluring man behind the till caused you to almost trip over your own feet.

“Taweret,” he exhaled a jittered chuckle as you fumbled through your purse, pointing to the small statuette of the goddess whilst his other hand twitched as if he wasn’t sure where to put it, to then clumsily settle on the counter. “Excellent choice”.

You paused and lifted your lashes to gaze at him, his expression bright although he was far from comfortable. He always lost the very little nerve he had around divine women. “She’s pretty,” you said after humming in agreement. Truth be told, you didn’t quite care, your only motivation being that you had to buy something, so that you could linger around the shelves and marvel at the enticing gentlemen behind the counter without making it too obvious.

You smiled back at him when his grin grew bigger, his tousled dark locks bouncing as he nodded eagerly, and you could have sworn his pink cheeks deepened in rouge. ‘Pretty’ maybe wasn’t the word Steven would use, but be it that it was coming from your mouth had him blindly agreeing.

You could tell from the praising comment that he was holding back from explaining why he thought you made a good choice, and if you weren’t being beckoned towards the exit by your friends, you would have enthralled him. His eagerness, the excited glimmer that lingered behind his chocolate irises drew you close, and you wished for more time.

“Thankyou-“ glancing at his name tag that sat slightly lopsided on the pocket of his navy button up, “-Steven” you smiled, handing him the array of pound coins and loose change. “With a V,” he stuttered, pointing to his name badge as if you hadn’t already looked at it. The alluring stranger was now a little less strange, and you silently cursed him for turning your legs to putty for doing virtually nothing.

Steven. How could he make such a generic name seem so endearing?

His gaze scanned your flushed face, lids sitting slightly lazy as you witnessed him slip into a visible small daze. “Oh- uh, yeah. You’re welcome” he stood up straight in a rush, stunned and a little embarrassed upon the realisation that he had drifted.

From then on, you made every excuse to visit the museum every so often, spending days off you would usually squander in your one bedroom flat stealing greedy glances at Steven from between the shelves.

In your free time, with no one there to unwillingly drag you away, you would stand head in hands propped up on your elbows on the other side of the till, listening to him with undivided attention rivet spellbindingly on about the Egyptian Gods and Goddesses.

“Starting a collection, are we?” he grinned, and you recognised that same gleeful glint behind his eyes. You had sparked the conversation once another small statuette, of Isis this time, graced his palms over the counter. “Will you tell me about her?” you requested politely, your feet rooting to the ground beneath you when he began gushing about the major Goddess.

Two months passed before you worked up the courage to ask him out, having talked yourself out of asking him sooner too many times. His reaction to the proposal of drinks after his shift made your heartbeat flutter a little faster; his face automatically brightened whilst blinking at you in almost disbelief.

“Is… that a… yes?” you prodded, unable to stifle the schoolgirl-esque giggle that wormed its way out of your chest when he was rendered mute. There he was again, swimming in that ditsy daydream that he would often visit when he was around you, a far off gaze that made his eyes twinkle.

Steven shook his head, coming to his senses quicker than he would if you had drenched him in ice water, “Oh! Yes! -“ he cleared his throat, “Yes. Absolutely! Give me uhhh…,” he glanced at his watch, “Half an hour?”.

The first date was even more wonderful than you could have imagined, never tiring of his over enthusiastic gleeful voice laced with more delight than you had ever witnessed when you prodded him more about his knowledge on ancient Egypt, surprised that he wasn’t already a tour guide.

“You’re wasted at that place, they don’t deserve you” you told him with utmost sincerity, after becoming excessively annoyed by his heavy sigh once you asked why he was still working in the gift shop. Not at him, of course, but at his stupid boss. Why did they not see how wonderful he was?

Though it settled your heart when you practically saw the sunken purple under lethargic eyes bore a healthy glow to match the warm tan of his skin, realising that he probably didn’t have somebody to tell him how great he actually was. His lips curled into a small smile, settling there as his cheeks turned to that familiar rouge.

“Will I… will I be able to see you again?” he asked apprehensively as he helped you with your coat, stumbling slightly almost as if he expected a refusal. You turned to him, enjoying the way he would evidently allow intrusive thoughts to sway his body language and facial expressions, his eyes furiously scanning your face for some sort of cue, praying to every God that the answer wasn’t no.

You straightened the collar of his shirt, resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong shoulders that were hidden underneath the oversized geometric fabric, that you quickly caught on was one of his favourites.

And like a moth to a flame, you couldn’t resist.

So now here you were, two weeks later curled up on Steven’s grey fabric couch in his dingy London flat, chowing down on some noodles from the local Chinese takeaway. It was a battle within itself to wiggle your way into his flat in the first place, stunting the tried and true trusty puppy dog eyes and pouty lip that had him practically melting in front of you.

Glancing beside you, your stomach pooled with an overwhelming warmth. “God, this is amazing!”, the delight coating his words snapped you out of a trance you didn’t realise you were in, watching how his face would twist into gleeful smiles and theatrical gasps. Who knew a movie about hobbits and wizards would have him so enthralled?

He was so innocently sublime, overwhelmingly beguiling to every degree and beyond, and somehow he was interested in you. At least that’s what you would like to think, as every time he made the smallest move he would proceed to hastily back out at the last second.

If your hands touched he would allow his fingers to linger there for a moment, before whisking it away as quickly as it appeared amidst an awkward clear of the throat.

“What?” he laughed when he noticed you staring, cheeks stuffed full of noodles and eyes glittering with wonder. You clocked the steal of a glance at your lips, which only made your smile grow wider and your cheeks flush a deeper pink. “Nothing,” you replied, returning your attention to the film, relishing in the sensation of his gaze raking across your face.

You would kill to know what he was thinking at that moment. Hoping that he shared in your desire; as if he were to give you the green light, that god awful geometric shirt would be ripped from his torso and cast to the floor quicker than he could say ‘Hathor’.

But you wanted Steven to be the one to take it further, as you already felt that you had to step on his throat to even get past the first date, let alone hold grapple him in a chokehold to get through his front door.

You couldn’t be the one to hold the reins forever, and if either of you wanted there to be a forever, he would have to pluck up the courage to take it that one step forward.

There was a kindling fire behind those dark chocolate eyes that screamed for a spark; a match, a fan to the flame, anything, to transform into a raging inferno. You savoured the anticipation, relishing in the fact that at any moment, the embers would ignite.

You could cut the thick tense blanket that swallowed the atmosphere with a knife, the longer Steven stared the quicker your heart would beat, spiralling exponentially towards concaving in your chest. “You’re not watching,” you told him, pretending that you didn’t just want to pounce on him there and then.

“Yeah… yeah” he nodded dizzily, admiring the curve of your lips and the slither of collar bone that peaked out from under your cotton t-shirt. He audibly swallowed, a small shake of his head as he too returned even a morsel of attention back to the screen, having to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

And for the next two hours you sat in near complete silence, a comfortable silence at that, eventually sitting parallel knee against knee, two spoons shovelling into one bowl of raspberry ripple ice cream. You both shared the odd glance and smirk when the other gasped at the tv screen, cannily drinking in the look on Steven’s face when he was consumed with laughter.

Becoming slightly tired of dangling on the edge of expectation, you shuffled over towards Steven’s side of the couch and rested your head on his shoulder. You could call it a bold move, as his bicep clenched under your touch, but would soon relax when your arm snaked through his to curl into a comfortable link.

He smelled so good. Like coffee beans and that generic cedarwood aftershave every man on the planet would wear. But it was like new when it came from him. You found yourself leaning into him, heart fluttering and head promising sin. If your eyes could take the shape of hearts, then they would have done at this moment. It was almost too much to bear.

“This was fun,” Steven said sheepishly whilst leaning against the doorframe of his front door, another perfect example of the fact that he never knew how to place himself, always appearing so self-conscious and fuelled by unease. “I like spending time with you,” you admitted, the first time either of you had explicitly informed the other that you actually valued when you were together.

Another bashful grin, both rows of teeth on full display as he glanced at the floor. You had half expected him to lift a leg up behind him like the lead female role would do in a rom-com. “We should do something again soon, yeah?” his eyes connected with yours, and your ribcage splintered. You didn’t want to leave. Not right now.

But it was obvious he didn’t want you to stay, and you lingered there for what felt like an eternity, screaming at him in your head to let you stay with him a little while longer.

“See you soon, Steven with a V” you turned to begin your walk to the uber waiting outside of the flat block, the lack of offer to, at the very least, walk with you resonating a painful sting.

But you barely even took a step, having only turned your back before you felt a strong grip of calloused fingers along the nook of your elbow. Spinning around, you didn’t have a chance to utter a single syllable before his lips were on yours. You leant forward towards him again, hands flying to his curls whilst his glide over your sides, mesmerising every curve and dip of your padded flesh, twisting around your back.

One hand settles on the small of your back, the other pressing frightenglingy harshly between your shoulder blades. He held you there, rooting you to the ground and suddenly feeling fragile and small in his grasp, waiting to be consumed and devoured. If he pressed any harder you would surely combust under the pressure.

Every shared glance, every hover of delicate fingers on skin, and every heartfelt compliment shattered and swelled all at once within this kiss. You had wanted it from the moment you saw him, with his lopsided name tag and dishevelled brooding appearance.

Your stomach flipped, lungs knotting themselves together amongst the sheer disbelief that you finally got to touch him, possessively and obediently. From your shoulder blades his large palm skates to hook around the back of your neck, forcing you closer as your teeth chattered against one another.

As much as you could stand here forever with him, consuming his taste and touch in every way possible, you couldn’t fuck him out in the corridor. So mustering up the might to push him back, he whimpered as your lips disconnected, his pink tongue chasing your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep you sealed together.

With the fabric of his shirt wadded in the palm of your hand and his shaking breath brushing your nose, you walked him back and shut the front door, not wasting another second before tugging on his shirt to pull him right back in. Steven jolted against you, swiftly lunging himself forward as your tongues twisted together before your lips even had the chance to reconnect.

He tasted of raspberry ice cream, so sweet, and you felt the stretch of his lips as he smiled into you. His large hands found your hips, digging fingertips into the soft flesh underneath the sheer fabric of your dress to quickly smooth over the hurt when you winced.

The awkward, sunken-so-far-down-in-his-chair-he-near-folded-in-on-himself, unimpeachable Steven had been flung out of the nearest window. This new form of himself that held you with such ferocity was uncharted territory, and you liked it.

He was desperate. And so were you.

“Oh god… is this okay?” he questioned against your lips as his fingers fumble with the hem of your dress, returning to those stuttering words and unsure wandering hands that were crying out to explore your body.

“Fuck, Steven, of course it’s okay” your voice dripped with arousal, a twinge of annoyance simmering behind your tone at his apprehensiveness. “Do whatever you want. It’s okay. This-“ you seized his hands and brought them up to harshly squeeze the tissue of your breasts, “-is okay”.

His eyes widened in a spectacular fashion as soon as his clammy palms kneaded the tender flesh, again frantic when they flickered between your chest and your face, unsure of where to look but knowing exactly what to do next.

Green light.

“‘Do whatever you want’, yeah?” his lips curled into a blood curdling grin, every cell in your body crystallising when you physically witnessed his eyes transcend darker. “Oh, darling. I will” and your heartbeat skyrocketed, much did the second one south of your hips that thumped with wicked urgent intent.

His kiss-bruised lips latched to your throat, and you felt yourself titling your head back against the door to give him easier access. As he nipped at the sensitive skin of your throat, one hand suctioned to your breast, resonating an ache that paired with the brutish force of his palming.

He wasted no time to send the other prowling up underneath your dress; nimble quick fingertips ghosting over the skin of your belly, sparking an array of goosebumps in their wake, tracing over the rolls of your sides along your ribs, settling against the cushion of your naked bosom.

Steven groaned against your neck, the rumbling adding to the multitude of sensations that had your breathing latch and heartbeat frantic. The only thing you could do was to hang onto him for dear life, your hands grasping to the roots of his curls as he had you pinned against the doorway, belligerently sucking welts of blue and purple against your skin.

“Fuck, Steven…” his name rolled off your tongue with an embarrassing simplicity, ready to fall to your knees if he commanded you to do so. You tightened your grip on his tousled curls, enough so that you winced at the mere thought of how it felt, but Steven only omitted a delighted groan in return.

He wedged himself against you, rolling his hips against your thigh where you quickly became aware of his own arousal, cock straining deliciously in his jeans. “Poor baby…” you cooed, reaching down to glide your hand over his clothed erection. He whimpered, a needy sound you had never quite heard before, fingers digging into your skin again so harshly you were bound to be bruised.

He melts against you, dragging a hand down to tease the waistband of your panties as your palm flattens along his apparent bulge. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, hot trembling moaning breaths fanning along your collarbone and chest. From this angle you could kiss along his glistening hairline, travelling towards his temple as you allowed him to drift again, savouring every little touch and squeeze in between.

“That’s it, darling” he drawled in response when you opened your legs for him, right on cue for his fingers to dip below the cloth concealing your modesty. Drawing him closer, ragged breaths seared the back of your throat as thick fingers discover how soaked you are for him. Ready and waiting, utterly dripping, for him.

“Fuck,” he runs his fingertips over the mound of your clit, breathing out a laugh of almost disbelief when you squeak. He must have felt your heart skip a beat; pulling his head back now to peer at you with a new wanderlust daze of sheer awestruck and admiration, a smirk painting his stupidly perfect face when those same fingers slid down to your slick entrance.

As if your state of arousal wasn’t obvious enough, as Steven teased your folds over and over again, the sound of it was a dead giveaway. “So fucking wet for me…” that familiar delight lingered behind his words, as if he had been presented with a professionally wrapped gift on christmas morning, satin bow and all.

“All for you…” you made sure he knew it. How devoted you were to him, how you would do anything he said at the drop of a hat. You had been hooked since the beginning. His thumb pad finally began to circle your clit, clumsily at first but he soon found his rhythm.

Now it was your turn to melt against him, fighting clawing urges to both hold his gaze and also throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut amongst the pleasure. Just as you thought you were as close to heaven as you could get, Steven pushed a thick ring finger into your aching heat, catapulting you to a place otherworldly.

“Jesus! Steven!”, although you were more than prepared for him, the sudden sensation of becoming so full by just a finger was a jolting surprise within itself. He stared at you slack jawed, running his tongue absentmindedly over his bottom lip, watching you spurred with sacrilegious intent.

You ground down against him in a stupor, silently begging for more. Of course, Steven wouldn’t leave you hanging, as much as the thought of you pleading for him danced in his head, he wasn’t about to deprive this sweet sweet Goddess of the pleasure she deserved. There was plenty of time to practice those fantasies he pushed to the back of his mind.

He slips in another finger with ease, the initial shock of his presence within you settling, the familiar warmth pooling at the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, angel. Such a good girl” he cooed in your ear, returning his lips that glimmered with saliva to your reddened throat, purring buttery sweet nothings against your skin.

“Oh my fucking god,” you squirmed away from his touch, the firecrackers rippling along your spine teetering on the edge of too much to bear. But in this position, trapped between a wooden door and a man that was built as if chiselled from polished marble, you had nowhere to go.

And jesus fuck, you were glad to be caged.

Steven pulled his fingers back out of you again, and this time you whimpered in the same desperate tone he adorned only minutes ago. But with a shift of his posture and a curve of his wrist, he curled his fingers up into you at a new unrelenting angle that had you chanting with no cohesion.

He suckled at your flesh, the bulging arteries that pumped mercilessly with hot blood beckoning him like a siren call. “Oh god, Steven. Steven!” your whimpers became cries, cries became muffled screams that were stunted by the weight of his free hand that clasped rapidly over your mouth. The last thing he needed was a noise complaint from his shitty neighbours.

“Are you going to cum for me, angel? Such a pretty baby, falling apart all because of my fingers? You have no idea what my cock can do to you” the filth that stringed from his lips were enough to tip you over that edge, his voice as sweet as honey yet cold as ice. You never imagined such vulgarity to bubble from the throat of someone so… well, someone like Steven.

Your throat splintered under the weight of your cries, moan after moan ripping from your chest as you flooded the palm of his hands. You faintly heard what can only be described as rain in a thunderstorm hammering down south of your hips, head fuzzy and brain buzzing.

You noticed Steven’s bewildered and exhilterated expression as his focus dipped to his fingers that ploughed you through your high, slowing to a steady pace as your cries dwindled into soft moans. “Bloody hell, can you do that again?!“ his boyish pitch had returned, and it was when you fully came to your senses that you realised what had happened.

Titling your head down to follow his wide eyes, your chest began to cave in once again through the panic of realisation. You saw the front of Steven’s jeans first, splashed with the result of your orgasm, then; the tips of his fingers still aligned with your entrance, his palm and wrist dripping with your cum.

And the floor. God. The floor had become puddled with more arousal than you had ever seen. You knew you were capable, but goddamn, you had never squirted this much before.

“Oh jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“ but you were cut off by his lips sealing with yours in a flurry, quickly shutting you up and snuffing out any doubt that has risen in your head. “Don’t you dare apologise,” he warned, tone so buttery and genuine as he kissed away any shame or uncertainty.

“I'm going to make you do that again”.

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woohoo! my first moon knight fic.

feedback is always appreciated! 💖

should I do a second part? I think that’s fair lmao.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight #unapologetic oscar isaac content #oscar isaac #marvel #marvel fan fiction #mcu imagine #moon knight imagine #steven grant imagine #slight follow of canon #but also not really #fanfiction writer #doomsdaybby

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