#Sub knight

[subtop-knight]

I know my place. And I’ll certainly remind you if you forget it.

My place is at your feet, trailing kisses up every inch of that divine body.

My place is below you, on my knees, ready.

My place is head tilted to the side, neck exposed, vulnerable, trusting.

“Pull it tighter” I’ll urge while you bind my wrists behind my back.

“Stay put” I’ll request as you lift your ass from my face, granting me breath before it is needed.

“So gentle…” I’ll remark when you’re too hesitant to hurt me with that flogger in your hands.

My place is using every drop of energy to bring you every ounce of pleasure possible.

My place is panting, desperate, capable, determined.

My place is in your hands, in your heart, in your hole.

Let me serve as your reminder of just how much you deserve.

[reschatzi]

MDNI, 18+ | TOP!READER | DEGRADATION KINK

A pretty sub’s legs wrapped around you, whining pathetically. Their fingers intertwine with yours, grip tight to ground themselves to the feeling of your dick stretching them out. One of your hands lock around their throat, squeezing the air out of them as you fuck your aching cock back into their tight hole. They’re so wet, their pretty entrance slick with cum and lube.

“Please.. fuck, m-more—” They look at you all teary-eyed as they choke out their meek words through a sob, thinking you care about a stupid, little doll that you can break and repair whenever you want. “You want more, huh? Such a needy whore,” Their walls seize up, bed groaning from the relentless pounding, “Fuck, greedy slut. You liked that.”

On shaky thighs, they try to meet your thrusts. “Wait, ah, mmmng, slow down-” Oh, but the both of you know they don’t mean that. It’s their own form of asking for you to continue bullying your dick into their pulsating heat. Their sweet cries fill the room, clenching down on you tightly which triggers your orgasm rather quickly. Hips stuttering as your cum fills their hole until it’s leaking past your cock. You glance to their face, panting harshly, and the expression they wear makes you impossibly harder. So fucked out but they need more and more until you turn them into your pretty, dumb toy.

[renaissancedesire]

Steel and silk

These sum up my gender well 🤭

Op is non-binary {they/them} NOT A GIRL

My Ko-fi 🌿

My Only-Fans 💋

[porcelainpillowprince]

not sure why the royalty kink specifically is hitting so hard today but HRRRGGGHHHHH......

i'm so split between two ideas

i need my knight to do as i say. ordering them to be as rough with me as possible. listening to their moans as they ravish the crown prince. telling them that they're my property and have no right doing anything outside of my orders. follow my orders or suffer the consequences. i'll show you who really has all the power here.

OR

i need my loyal knight and sworn protector to fuck me til my stupid crown hits the floor. show me who i really belong to, tell me im yours. please oh please teach me a lesson about trying to command you mr. big strong knight. show me who has all the strength here and how easy it is for you to overpower me.

[commiecumdump]

was wearing these baggy, floaty pants yesterday and had to pick them up whenever walking up or down some stairs, so he laughed and called me a prince and my brain just kind of. short circuited. i think. i think i liked that a lot.

the idea of being his spoiled little prince, being the more assertive one when we're out and making the decisions but the second the doors are closed i'm on my knees humping my knights shoe, completely unable to form a cohesive sentence, only whines and moans??

[miguel-owhora]

hngfhf thinking about steven sucking your dick 😵‍💫 he'd be so flustered and shy, but my god does he have a mouth on him. slowly wiggling his hips, side to side, his pussy leaking inside his pants as he mouths away at your balls. they're heavy and firm, and his mouth waters at the musk. letting his spit dribble down your length as he presses kisses to your balls, his hand wrapped around your cock and slowly jerking it off.

maybe he'll even make eye contact as he licks a flat stripe up your length, lick away at an angry vein and wrap his mouth around your cockhead. he'll look away after that, suddenly embarrassed and aware of what he's doing—until you reach down and card your fingers through his hair. curl them and gently scratch at his scalp, mutter a "good boy" underneath your breath and fuck, it has steven squeezing his thighs and slip into subspace.

[midwest-femme]

butch knight…save me butch knight… knightly butch…please…

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

A conversation with a ghost 👻🗡️✨

Posting on Halloween not because the ghost thing though, but because I can’t imagine anything scarier to Meta than emotional vulnerability tbh. Og post here

[subtop-knight]

Have me don my armor so that you have something solid to grip when you need to steady yourself, and something easy to tug when you desire to have eager lips pressing against yours.

[horny-transmasc-posting]

We've all heard the "knight x bratty prince who he tames" scenario but I'm here to offer:

Bratty prince who fully gets away with it.

The knight adores him, feels unworthy to even lay a finger on him. Protests of how inappropriate this whole situation is muffled when the prince shoves the knight's face into his crotch telling him to get to work. The prince pushing the knight down onto his throne and the knight fighting the urge to guide his head down further when he starts to take his cock into his mouth because after all, that's his prince he couldn't possibly use force against him.

The solemn knight there to protect the prince falling apart under his touch and holding in moans as the prince demands that he fuck him.

[reschatzi]

SIMON RILEY ── YOU GET ME SO HIGH

🕸️·˚ ༘ warnings. top male reader. bottom simon. high typa shit. flashbacks. smoking. mentioned drinking. public sex. cockwarming. breathplay.

ִ ࣪𖤐 ࣪ by the end of it all, the smoke you exhale transforms into a kiss. ◞

the exact date when it began is something you’re unsure of.

he, lieutenant simon riley, simply walked into your room without a knock. no words were exchanged, not that they were really needed. your mouth opened, agape. a “what?” is what you want to utter, but his lips catches your own.

simon riley groans when he feels you return the kiss. the faint taste of malt liquor on your tongue has him pushing you back, onto your bed, as he straddles your lap. you remember that he asks,

“do you want this?”

his voice was breathless. heavy pants meeting your neck.

and you do. you agree, the next moments a blur. he lowers himself on your cock when he’s ready. he already was before he barged in.

strangely, something blooms. a progression you won’t know where it’ll lead. nothing worrying, nothing out-of-place. at least on the outside, it won’t attract that much attention. yours was focused on the feeling of simon’s hole stretching to accommodate to your size. it was stupid.

no, really. it was late at night, but that didn’t mean no one would wander around these hours. you were in the hallway, supposedly on the way to your room when simon couldn’t take the wait anymore. there’s not much plot to this story. fuck then leave. that was it. you hated that, and you were projecting your one-sided feelings onto his prostate.

“ah, ah, ah. fu—fuuck. shit- ggah! mhng... wait—”

your hand clasped his neck and he gasps. alarms blared in your head, you shouldn’t do this. this was territory you haven’t spoken or even thought of.

guilty, you wanted to whisper an apology. thrusts shifting into slow grinds, handing him a way out. but he only leaned into your palm, the coldness, near emptiness, emanating from your glove contrasting to the warmth of his shrouded flesh. “don’t... don’t stop.” he breathes, like there’s no more oxygen in his lungs.

exhale.

that’s what you did.

you puff out the smoke you inhaled from the cigarette that was in between your index and middle fingers. the dirty air landed on his half-masked face. his cheek went to rest on your shoulder, hips lazily lifting themselves up and back down. you lead the cigar to his mouth. sharing something like this, in this situation, with this person, was beyond unbelievable.

fuck, what even happened?

the events that were replaying in your head moments ago were quickly fading. you’re too tired. too unfocused. you hear him call your name. then another time. then another. he gently pats your face. “look at me,” your eyes dart downwards to him. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” he says as he brings himself back down on your cock.

“nothin’... s’ just—” he clenches around you when he feels the tip of your dick graze his sweet spot.

simon hums like he’s done an achievement. maybe he did, earning a whine from you. in some way, the weight of both of your chests were lighter. passing on the cigarette to one another, it was a repeating process. taking turns and the pace he set doesn’t change.

you think you’re losing the logical part of your brain. your thoughts are jumbled and gibberish. the temporary pleasure couldn’t outweigh the actual one you were experiencing now. your fingers find themselves attached to his neck, flexing as they try not to tighten their hold too much.

the last puff was yours. without thinking, you press the butt of the cigarette on his thigh to put it out.

he hisses, but the dizziness in you can’t find the moment to care. matter of fact, he enjoys it.

you don’t miss the way his thighs trembled, not missing the way he rocked against you hard. his cock throbbed and you show mercy. your free hand finds his length, causing him to see stars. he curses, lowly. “oh, shit, ‘m c-close.”

the lieutenant finds himself stuttering, losing his voice. how couldn’t he? you were hitting all of the right spots inside of him. both of your hands were on him, one working him up further to his release while the other bruised his neck. it was like you were claiming him but no one would know. they can’t find out unless you tell them or they’d catch a glimpse of his skin.

the combination of pain and pleasure was too good. his head was clouded, and so was yours. maybe he was at peace for once, all warm and tight around you. maybe, by the end of it all, the smoke you exhale transforms into a kiss from him.

and maybe, just maybe, you’re right.

𓍢‧₊🕷️ ࣪˖ knight’s phoning. wanna be apart of my taglist? fill out this form so you can be immediately notified for future fics. masterlist

[caraphernellie]

service top knight!ellie because i wanna be saaaaved (fucked). photomode by @/trynafindnuria on pinterest┆eighteen plus interactions only.

the depiction of enthusiasm. armour discarded on the floor, metal breastplate shining in the light streaming through the window. lying beside it is her helmet, bestowing the reflection of the royal crest. it is a position of honour to be of service to the princess. ellie means to act with chivalry, her courage and faith aiding to guard you at all times; and despite it not an official duty of hers, she will happily kneel and service you with her body as often as she can.

perhaps the risk is part of the fun—grand doors unlocked, any unsuspecting servant susceptible to intruding. with your gown hiked up, legs propped up against her shoulders, it's as obscene as what you may come across in any brothel. unladylike, and frankly, you couldn't care less. ellie has a rather precise touch, but it's far from reverent. she is uncouth.

tufts of brassy hair are tousled atop her head, the result of your play. fingers running through her locks to keep her between your thighs, tongue laving over your clit. "that's right, princess." she takes a momentary pause, a glob of spit slowly cascading from her lips to your core. her fingers slide between the folds, slick and soaked, only to dip into your waiting hole. "just relax..." ellie doesn't talk often when she is focused on treating you. only to check in, or ask permission for things. never do you say no. because she knows what a lady likes.

your back hits the mattress, the silken bedding softening the fall. oh, she knows how troubled you are. a busy princess, having to mind all sorts of frivolous issues in the privileged palace walls. such a poor thing. but ellie makes one thing very clear, and that is that she thrives on being the single person to get you like this. i can help you unwind, your highness. i would be honoured.

[princeofurheart]

A personal guard...a personal knight...one specially tasked with keeping me safe. Little does the king and queen know, I am savagely made to take his cock every waking and sleeping hour. It goes as far that during a royal ball where I am supposed to be searching for a suitor, he convinces the king to let me slip off with him for a few moments. The king doesn't even question my ever so trustful knight.

He pulls me just barely a meter out of the ballroom before his needy lips are on mine and his hands are groping my ass, my arms thrown around his shoulders as he explores me endlessly. It becomes too much for him and before I know it, my trousers are ripped at the seam and his cock is fucking into my cunt. He growls into my ear that he knows what I am doing, teasing him like this and that he should have known I wouldn't have had it slide for this long as is. I have no idea what he's talking about, but I don't get to even begin to say that because as soon as my mouth opens his fingers are choking me, pushed down my throat to silence me.

[alwaysmicado]

you’re safe with me

3.2k | 18+ MDNI | Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, Dom!reader/sub!Steven, soft domination, spanking, praise kink, body worship, handjob, so. much. love. Summary: After he’s had a bad day at work, you make sure to show Steven how loved and appreciated he is. A/N: My first Moon Knight fic! It’s been sitting in my drafts for half a year now (yeah, I know) and I’m finally ready to share it with you. It’s sweet and I’m so happy with how it turned out. Enjoy and let me know what you think! ♡ Dividers by the wonderful @cafekitsune.

The clattering of keys in the lock stirs you from your thoughts. Steven’s finally home.

The heavy sigh that follows the door creaking open tells you everything you need to know. You glance up from your book, your eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as he trudges into the apartment. His usually lively eyes are clouded, and the slumped shoulders reveal a weight that words alone can’t convey.

“Hey, love,” you greet him softly, setting your book aside. “Rough day?”

Steven drops his bag by the door and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “You could say that, love,” he mutters, his accent thick with exhaustion. He plops down on the couch next to you, the cushion sinking under his weight. “Everything that could go wrong at the museum did. Everything. And Marc...well, Marc’s been particularly vocal today.”

You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Not really, love. I just...need a moment to breathe. I’m sorry.”

You watch him for a moment, taking in the lines of stress etched on his face. It’s clear he’s had one of those days where nothing goes right. He looks vulnerable, worn out. Your heart aches to see the man you love like this.

You’re about to ask if he would like a piece of the chocolate cake you baked this morning when a thought crosses your mind, and you wonder if it might help.

“Steven,” you say softly, your voice a gentle caress. “Do you want to...play tonight?”

His eyes flutter open, and a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “I’d like that,” he admits sheepishly, a spark of hope flickering in his tired eyes. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

“Never,” you assure him with a bright smile. “It’s never too much trouble for you.” You rise from the couch, offering him your hand. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Steven takes your hand, allowing you to lead him. His hand in yours feels so right. 

The walk to the bedroom is silent, the air between you charged with anticipation. As you enter the room, you feel Steven’s grip tighten on your hand. You turn to him, noting the mixture of anxiety and excitement in his gaze.

“It’s okay, love,” you whisper, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. “You’re safe with me.”

He nods, a shiver running through him. You guide him to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He does so, looking up at you with those wide, earnest eyes that you adore so much.

“Strip,” you command softly, but firmly. “And kneel at the foot of the bed.”

Steven complies, his movements slow and deliberate. He undresses, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the chair by the window. Then, he kneels, his posture straight but relaxed, awaiting your next instruction.

You walk around him, admiring the view. He’s beautiful, even when he’s feeling low. Especially when he’s feeling low, because it’s then that he trusts you the most. You run a hand through his hair, and he leans into your touch.

“You’ve had a hard day,” you say, your voice low and soothing. “Tell me what happened.”

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “Everything went wrong at the museum. I dropped a display, messed up the paperwork, and Donna...she was relentless. Marc’s been arguing with me all day, and I just...I feel like such a failure and like I can’t do anything right.”

You kneel in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Steven, look at me.” He does, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re the best. You hear me? You’re wonderful, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He tries to look away, but you hold him firm. “But I messed up,” he protests weakly. “I’m just...”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You lean in, your soft lips brushing against his. “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

He swallows hard, nodding slightly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, seeing the faint blush that colors his cheeks. “Now, I want you to remember that tonight is about you. About making you feel good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You stand, walking over to the dresser. From the top drawer, you pull out a silk scarf and a leather paddle. Steven’s eyes widen at the sight, but he doesn’t protest. He trusts you, and that trust is something you’d never ever take lightly.

You return to him, the scarf dangling from your fingers. “Hands behind your back.”

He obeys, and you expertly tie his wrists together, the silk smooth against his skin. “This is to remind you that you’re in my care,” you explain. “That you can let go.”

You trail the paddle lightly over his back, making him shiver. “And this is for when you forget how amazing you are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” You walk around him, your fingers brushing over his shoulders, his neck. “Now, tell me again what happened at the museum.”

Steven takes a deep breath. “I...I dropped a display. It shattered into a million pieces, and everyone looked at me like I was an idiot. It was humiliating and I completely froze.”

You nod, absorbing his words. “And what did you think when that happened?”

“I...I thought I was useless,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The paddle comes down lightly on his backside, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Steven gasps, his body tensing.

“What did I say about speaking badly about yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he breathes. “I’ll try to be better.”

You run a soothing hand over the spot you struck. “That’s all I ask, love.” You move in front of him again, lifting his chin so he meets your gaze. “You’re not useless, Steven. You’re human. We all make mistakes.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re welcome. Now, tell me more.”

Steven sighs deeply, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “The paperwork,” he begins, his voice hesitant. “I was supposed to catalog a new shipment of artifacts, but I got the dates wrong. Donna found out and she... she was furious. She called me a bumbling idiot and that hiring me was the worst mistake she’s ever made. And I...I think she might be right.”

He lowers his gaze to the floor, ashamed. Your gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on his face, watching every single expression. You’re fuming, gripping the handle of the paddle so hard your knuckles turn white.

Nothing makes you angrier than anyone daring to dull the bright light in Steven’s eyes.

You quickly collect yourself, pushing away your immediate thoughts of getting Donna fired. This isn’t about you or your anger right now.

You lift the paddle, bringing it down firmly on his other butt cheek. He flinches, the sting a sharp reminder of your words. You immediately soothe his hot skin with your hand, your touch gentle and reassuring. Moving in front of him again, you lift his chin, ensuring he meets your eyes.

“Steven,” you say calmly. “She had no right to disrespect you like that. None. It’s completely normal to get things wrong, especially with something as complex as artifact cataloging. I’ve never met anyone as passionate and dedicated to their work, and everyone at that museum is lucky that you’re granting them the gift of your precious time and talent.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But I know I should’ve checked the dates twice and, and I didn’t…and now the museum has to pay an extra fee and it’s all because of me and–”

He can’t finish his sentence before you’ve struck the supple flesh of his perfect butt again, this time with vigor. The sharp crack of the paddle against his skin surprises you both. Steven gasps, his body jerking forward slightly, but his reaction is immediate and telling. A low moan escapes his lips, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the sting spreads across his skin. His cock is hardening, the sight stirring up your own arousal.

You soothe the reddened area with a gentle hand, your voice firm but tender. “Baby, listen to me. Mistakes happen. You are not defined by them. The museum can handle an extra fee; no one died, it’s not the end of the world. What’s important is that you learn and move on.”

He shudders, nodding as he processes your words and the lingering sensation of the paddle. “Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice trembling with a mixture of arousal and gratitude.

“Good boy,” you praise, running your fingers through his hair. “Now, tell me about Marc. What did he do today?”

Steven takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to decide within seconds what to tell you. He can’t reveal the complete truth, not when it’s about…well, it’s about you. It’s about wanting to be with you forever. It’s about arguing over who will have the honor of asking you to marry them.

For weeks now, they’ve been debating the specifics of their proposal, your engagement ring patiently waiting, safely stashed behind a book on a shelf you can’t easily reach.

“He, uh,” Steven murmurs, “he’s been in my head all day, criticizing every little thing I do. I feel like he sometimes wishes he was alone, that he could be with you by himself, that he didn’t have to carry me around as well. And I...I don’t blame him”

You bring the paddle down with two firm strikes, and Steven’s moan is louder this time, filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His body trembles with the intensity of his emotions, and you waste no time stepping in front of him, pulling his head towards your belly, and softly petting him.

“Steven,” you say, your voice gentle yet firm, “Marc is so grateful to have you. He tells me all the time. He knows how much I love you, and he would never want anything less for either of us. And Marc doesn’t carry you; you both support each other equally. You are kind, compassionate, and incredibly strong. Neither Marc nor I would want to be in this world without you.”

Steven’s breath hitches, his face pressed against your belly as he absorbs your words. You continue to stroke his hair, offering him the comfort and reassurance he needs. His body slowly relaxes, the tension easing as he lets your words sink in.

“I appreciate you so much, baby,” you continue, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. “You’re important, and you are loved.”

He nods, his voice a soft whisper against your shirt. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you coo, lifting his chin so he can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Now, tell me how that makes you feel.”

He swallows hard, his eyes glistening with emotion. “It makes me feel...valued. Loved. Like I’m not alone.”

“Good. ’Cause it’s all true,” you assure him, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on his warm lips. “Now, I think you deserve a reward. Would you like that, Steven?”

His eyes light up at that, a smile breaking through the remnants of his earlier gloom. “Yes, please,” he whispers. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

You caress his cheek and steal another kiss before smiling at him and straightening up.

“Kneel on the bed,” you say softly, walking to the end of the bed. “Get comfortable and face me.”

Steven complies, his movements fluid and trusting. He sits back on his heels in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on yours, his cock twitching in anticipation.

Your eyes drop down to his cock, where a string of precum is currently making its way down onto the covers. You bite your lip at the sight.

“You’re leaking, baby.”

“Oh,” Steven murmurs as he looks down, his cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh and roll your eyes demonstratively as you cross the room. “Don’t make me get the paddle again.”

Steven smirks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You drag your standing floor-length mirror to the foot of the bed so Steven can see his reflection. His eyes widen slightly, but he stays still, waiting for your next instruction.

You move behind him on the bed, your hands caressing his body. “Look at yourself, Steven,” you whisper, your breath hot against his ear. “Look and see what I see.”

Your hands slide over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the defined muscles. “These shoulders, so strong and capable. They bear so much weight, and yet they remain steady.”

Steven nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move your hands down his arms, feeling the tension ease under your touch. “These arms, always ready to hold and protect. They’re beautiful, just like you.”

He swallows hard, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “My good boy,” you praise him. “Keep looking.”

Your hands travel down his back, tracing the curve of his spine. “This back, it’s strong and supportive. It carries so much, but it never breaks.”

Steven shivers under your touch, his breath hitching. “Yes, Ma’am."

You continue your journey, your hands gliding over his sides to his hips. “These hips, so perfectly shaped. So graceful on the dance floor and always bringing me so much pleasure.”

His cock twitches at that image and a soft moan escapes his lips as he nods, his eyes never leaving the mirror. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hands move lower, caressing his thighs. “These legs, they’re powerful and sturdy. They carry you through every challenge with unwavering determination. I admire that.”

Steven’s voice is barely audible as he whispers, “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move up again and pause, your hands resting on his lower belly. “And this,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his skin. “This is where you carry so much of your tension, but it’s also where your strength lies.”

He shudders, his body responding to your touch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hand slides down to his erect cock, wrapping around it gently. He gasps, his body tensing.

“Look at yourself, Steven,” you command softly. “See how beautiful you are.”

He meets your eyes in the mirror, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You let go of his cock, and he can’t hold back a little whimper. Sensing his fear that you might not touch him again, you immediately lift your hand towards his mouth.

“Spit.”

Steven obeys without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. A small bead of saliva drips from his lips onto your fingers, and you smile approvingly.

“Good boy,” you murmur, bringing your hand back to his cock. The added lubrication makes your touch smoother, more deliberate, and Steven shudders, his body responding to your control.

You start stroking him slowly from behind, your other hand caressing his shoulder blades. You kiss his shoulder, your lips brushing over his skin. “You are incredible, Steven,” you whisper in his ear. “So strong, so capable. I love you more than words can say.”

He moans softly, his body trembling. “Thank you,” he gasps. “I– I love you, too.”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to,” you murmur, your strokes maintaining a slow, torturous rhythm. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice strained.

You continue to stroke him, your hand firm and steady. “Tell me how amazing you are, Steven,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m amazing,” he gasps, his body arching into your touch.

“Again,” you command softly, your lips brushing against his ear. “But this time, be specific. Tell me one thing you like about yourself.”

“I...I have a kind heart,” he stammers, his breath hitching.

“Good boy,” you whisper, your strokes maintaining their steady rhythm. “What else?”

“My...my intelligence,” he gasps, his body trembling.

“Very good, Steven,” you murmur, kissing his neck. “Keep going.”

“I...I’m dedicated,” he breathes, his voice growing more confident.

“Yes, you are,” you agree, your hand moving faster. “Tell me more.”

“I’m compassionate,” he moans.

“Wonderful, Steven. You’re doing so well.”

He shudders, his body on the edge. “Please,” he whispers, his voice desperate.

“One more time”, you instruct, your hand never faltering.

“I’m strong,” he cries out, his voice filled with conviction.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now, you may come.”

Steven’s body tenses, every muscle tightening as he teeters on the edge of release. His breaths come in ragged gasps, and with one final, shuddering moan, he comes hard. Ropes of cum spurt onto the bed, each wave of his orgasm rippling through his body like a powerful tide. His moans grow louder, a raw, primal sound of release and relief, filling the room with his pleasure.

You hold him close from behind, feeling the tremors of his climax echoing through your own body. Your arms wrap around him securely, grounding him as he rides out the intense waves of his high. His body jerks with each pulse, his cock twitching as the last spurts of cum spill onto the bed.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his sweat-dampened shoulder. “I love you, Steven.”

His body slowly begins to relax, the tension ebbing away as the overwhelming pleasure recedes. He slumps against you, utterly spent, his breaths coming in deep, steadying gulps.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and lingering pleasure. “I love you, too.”

You hold him for a moment longer, letting him bask in the afterglow before pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck and pulling away. You untie his wrists, massaging the slight indents the scarf left on his skin.

“How do you feel?” you ask.

“Better,” he admits, a dopey smile on his lips. “Lighter.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say softly. “Now, how about you go take a shower while I warm up dinner, hm? And think about what movie you wanna watch.”

He nods, his eyes shining with affection. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You watch him as he heads to the bathroom, a small smile on your lips. Once he’s gone, you clean up the bed and head to the kitchen. You warm up the dinner you prepared earlier, the comforting aroma filling the apartment.

When Steven emerges from the shower, he looks refreshed, his earlier stress completely melted away. He joins you in the living room, and you hand him his plate. 

“Did you decide on a movie?” you ask, settling down next to him.

He smiles, a genuine, relaxed smile. “How about that creepy robot movie you’ve been wanting me to watch with you?”

You chuckle, very pleased with his choice. “Sounds perfect.”

You eat together in front of the TV, the movie playing in the background. After dinner, you cuddle on the couch, holding him close and scratching his scalp gently. He sighs contentedly, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. “For everything.”

You press a kiss to his temple, your heart swelling with love. “Always, Steven. I love you.”

Thank you for reading!

Let me know your thoughts & if you have any ideas/wishes for future fics. I’d love to hear from you! ♡

Masterlist | AO3

[miguel-owhora]

i lied. anyways, have this small steven drabble :3

"Slow- ah! - down!" Despite Steven's attempts at getting you to slow down, you did anything but. Your claws gripped his knees to his chest, his pretty plump pussy on full display, and fuck, what a view it was. It stretched nicely around your cock, the sweet wet squelch sound bouncing off around his room as you all but fucked into him.

Not that he was complaining, of course not your little Steven. You knew he was a little slut, you knew it when you first met him, could feel his pheromones teasing you, fucking slut. The thought alone has you growling, sharp teeth clenched and drooling down your dark lip as you quickened the pace—somehow.

It ripped a loud squeal from Steven, who thrashed and cried out as he squirted, and your hold on him tightened as you pressed him deeper against the bed and deepened your thrusts. Your cock pounded into his sloppy cunt, ou could feel his gummy walls clenching around your cock, silently begging for your knot. Steven babbled underneath your larger form, his curly hair sticking to his scalp as he cried, so flushed and sweaty; you leaned down to lick at his tears. It was salty.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a sharp moan when you sharply jabbed your cock against his sweet spot. He looked exhausted—maybe getting fucked by a werewolf was what he needed to have a good night's rest.

[manthatthingisafreak]

The Royalty Kink is strong lately

Oh to be a prince, noble and respected, giving orders during the day.

But at night, my personal guard takes over, pounding me into the mattress, turning me into a fuxked out mess beneath them.

"If only the others could see how good you are for me, your majesty"

"Wish I could show the whole kingdom how well you take me"

"Fuxk, what would the King and Queen say if they knew the prince is such a little slut for me"

And maybe they'd get bolder, taking me aside throughout the day and bending me over, fuxking me mercilessly before returning me to my royal duties with shaky legs. They'd get riskier, fingering me in the throne room with my crown on, just to see how messy they can get me in a place where I'm so clearly supposed to be in charge, and then we'd have to hide as the King and Queen walk in for a scheduled audience. Their fingers in my mouth silencing my moans as they take me at a royal ball. Maybe they'd edge me for a whole week before a very important royal meeting so that I'm stuttering and blabbing during the whole thing because all I can think about is the need to be fucked by them.