Moon Knight Fans I Am. Calling!

I would eat my left shoe for a couple of lines about Steven being eager to get the reader pregnant.

Something about him becoming unhinged over the idea of breeding is all I can think about lately. xx

“I’m the only one you let fuck you like this, righ’?” Steven whines into the hollow of your throat. His thrusts have long descended into mindless rutting, both your fronts plastered against each other, sweat slicking your skin.

“Fuck me how, baby?” you coo, scratching his scalp softly through his curls. It drives him mad. Not just playing with his curls—but talking to him in such a mothering, borderline condescending manner. “How do I let you fuck me?”

“You, you know,” he groans. “Without a—a condom.”

“Just you, baby,” you assure him. It’s true; you haven’t let Marc or Jake fuck you bareback yet. Not out of any fear of disease—they share a body for fuck’s sake—but mostly because of the intimacy. You knew Steven first. You were still coming to know the others. Maybe in time…But during moments like this, that isn’t how Steven wants to play. “Just you. Gonna make you a daddy.”

“Fuck, yes, yes gods please. Gonna show them,” he gasps, hips jerking against you. “Gonna fill you up til it takes, and then they’ll know you belong to me, you’re mine—“

“Do it,” you breathe, letting a little whine fill your voice. “Steven, please. I want everyone to know I’m yours, your slut—“

“Oh my days—“

“—cum in me, please. Don’t pull out, I don’t want to lose any of it, plug me up, I’ll—“

Steven stiffens, cock jerking where it is buried inside you, head brushing the tender entrance to your womb. His seed is warm where it fills you, soothing any ache the fierce pounding he gave you minutes before might have left.

And when he’s finished and pulls out, he takes his shaky fingers and scoops up the cum leaking from your clenching cunt, coaxing it back inside. Your eyes fall shut, a pleased sigh passing your lips.

workin on one right now :))))

What Good Girls Get

Pairing: Switch! Marc Spector x Sub!reader x Dom!Layla El-Faouly

Summary: While Layla is away, Marc wants to play. Being the good girl you are, you reject his advances and she rewards you while Marc is left to face the consequences.

Warnings: Dom/ Sub dynamics, polyamory, punishment, brat!marc, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, rough sex, sex toys, strap-ons, squirting, oral(f) receiving, oral(m) receiving, pet names, fingering, begging, spitting, slapping, aftercare, cuddles(Let me know if I missed anything:))

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This is only my second fic so I'm still working on getting better at exposition and stuff but I'm actually really proud of the smut and dialogue in this one. As always, feedback is welcome and encouraged. Enjoy!!

"We shouldn't. Layla told us we can't fool around while she's gone." you whine as you lay on the bed, Marc hovering above you. His face is buried in your neck while he plants sloppy kisses across your skin. You do your best to stand your ground but make no move to try and get him off you.

"Marc, I'm serious. Did you see the look in her eyes? She really meant it. I don't know about you, but I don't want to get on her bad side. We just got off punishment for the kitchen incident." It was quite a punishment too, but to be honest you deserved it. A few days ago, Layla had gone out to get dinner while Marc graciously offered to stay behind and help you finish preparing the dessert you were making for your friend's birthday. His help soon turned into a distraction as he started grabbing at you and pulling you against him, despite your determination to focus on the task at hand.

It started with Marc innocently feeding you a few of the strawberries you were cutting up and by the time Layla returned he had you on your knees, his dick covered in whipped cream, and you eagerly cleaning it off with your tongue. She had forbidden you two to touch yourselves or one another for the rest of the week as punishment and didn't let either of you out of her sight. She knew that would lead to more trouble.

That's why when she had been called to attend an event that would require her to stay across town overnight, she was hesitant. If it were just you, she wouldn't have worried. You're always on your best behavior. Unless Marc is there. He's always the instigator. You can count on one hand all the times you've been punished for something that didn't involve Marc. You craved Layla's approval, needed her to be proud of you. Marc made that incredibly difficult, though. Despite your better judgement, you almost always gave in. He had this hold over you that made him impossible to resist. Especially when Layla isn't there and you miss her.

Marc misses her desperately when she's gone as well, and that's part of the reason he acts out. It also doesn’t help that he is a brat through and through. For him, all the rules fly out the window the moment she steps out the door. He loves to rile her up. Lately he's been pushing his luck and punishments have been getting increasingly severe. Instead of turning soft at the end like Layla has a habit of doing, especially when it comes to you, she's started implementing 'no touching rules', ruined orgasms, edging with no release, withholding pleasure, etc. He also just can't help himself when he gets you all alone. It's like a switch flips in his brain and he just wants to pounce on you. Make you misbehave like he does. He knows you're Layla's good girl and he loves to see you turn into a dirty little slut for him.

"C'mon, it's not like she just ran out to the store, she won't be home until tomorrow. There's no way she'll find out." He continues to kiss down your neck and palms at your chest, making you arch your back.

"Yes, she will. I don't know how she does it, but she can always tell."

"That's because you can't lie to save your life, baby. You know, you really need to work on your poker face." he jests, and you shoot him a glare. But you can't help the small smile that forms on your face because you know he's right. If you're ever hiding something, you distance yourself from Layla, unable to even look her in the eyes. When she finally makes you, whatever you're hiding comes spilling out of you, completely out of your control. And if it had something to do with Marc, which is usually the case, he gets in trouble as well. It's detrimental to you both.

" You really don't want to?" Marc asks. He gives you puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops to try and get you to give in.

"Of course, I do." You play with the hem of his shirt, trying to ignore the way you feel his bulge against your thigh.

"I just really don't want to disobey her. We don't have to wait too long; she'll be back tomorrow. And who knows, maybe she'll even reward us for being good. It's been a while." You offer, trying to convince not only him but yourself to resist the temptation.

"It's been a while for me. She rewards you all the time. It's not fair." He pouts and pinches your sides, making you giggle.

"That's because you actually have to behave for that to happen, dummy. You just have to learn to follow the rules. And tonight is the perfect opportunity to try it out." you stroke his hair reassuringly. It would do him some good to practice some restraint.

"I'll try." he says, with absolutely zero sincerity in his voice.

"How about we go watch a movie instead? She never said we couldn't cuddle." He nods, smiling at you innocently enough to convince you he has given up. You cup his face and pull it to yours, and you plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. He stands, helps you up, and you both head to the living room.

Marc manages to keep his hands to himself through most of the film. He has you held against him, fitting snuggly in his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the safe and warm feeling he provides. You even start to doze off, but awaken when Marc shifts, telling you he's heading to the bathroom. In his absence, you lay your head down on the cushion. Rolling over on your stomach, you feel yourself succumb to the drowsiness again. A few minutes later, you are startled awake when you feel the couch dip, and a weight settle on your backside. You curiously turn your head to find Marc straddled across your thighs. You try to wriggle away, but he puts his full weight on your back and effectively stops you. He starts kissing and licking down the back of your neck.

“Marc, you were doing so well. Let’s just go to bed.” you plead.

“I'd love to take you to bed.” he responds, then starts softly nipping at your skin.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You feel him grin against you and it sends tingles across your skin.

“C'mon it’s not like I'm going to tell. And you’ll have until tomorrow evening to get yourself together enough to face Layla. You can keep one little secret, can’t you?” You are already putty in his hands and let wanton moans fall from your lips at the warmth of his mouth on your skin and his hands grabbing at your sides.

“I want to so bad. I just… I wanna be a good girl.” you whine.

"Well, it's nice to know one of you respects me.” Layla chimes in, and you both jump, startled by her surprise entrance. Neither of you had heard her come in. You freeze, and so does the man above you. A feeling of dread falls over you but is overtaken by a feeling of delight when your eyes land on your beautiful girlfriend. She’s still wearing the outfit she wore to the event, and she looks breathtaking.

"I managed to find a way to come home early to the loves of my life and this is what I find. Did I not make myself clear before I left?" She scolds, but there is a slight playfulness to her tone.

Marc, still refusing to look at her, lifts himself into a sitting position. You glance back at him and see the look of contemplation on his face. He could play this one of two ways. He could apologize profusely and get on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or he could stand his ground and see how far he can push his luck. Being the brat he is, he obviously chooses the latter. Not even bothering to answer her, he flips you over and Layla rounds the coffee table to stand in front of you both. He moves his eyes to hers as he starts grabbing at you and sliding your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Layla’s silence is deadly, yet the look on her face is eerily calm.

He grabs your bare chest and starts tweaking your nipples, and you whimper at the sensation. You don’t want to upset her, but it just feels so good. You rub your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

Neither of your partners notice as both sets of eyes are locked in a stare, waiting to see what the other will do next. The mischievous grin on Marc's face makes you nervous. You know he’s playing with fire and isn’t considering the consequences. But as always, his behavior manages to stoke the flames in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know what it is, the thought of testing Layla's patience yourself never crosses your mind. But seeing her reaction when Marc does it makes you want him to keep going, even though you know he’ll pay for it later.

You grab Marc’s wrists, not even sure if it’s to stop him or urge him on and you shoot Layla a pleading look, silently begging her to do something. Marc finally looks away as he brings his mouth down to one of your breasts. He latches onto your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. You let out a squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Do you want him to stop?” You don’t even hear what Layla says as Marc's other hand travels down your stomach and lands on your clothed mound.

“Look at me, angel. I asked you a question. Do you want Marc to stop?” Trying to steady your voice as his fingers slip into your underwear, dragging up and down your wet folds, you whimper, “It feels good but…but I don’t want to disobey you.” She gives you a soft smile and wears a proud look on her face, causing a warmth to bloom in your chest. She walks towards you and bends down so her face is level with yours.

As she starts petting your hair she coos, “Of course you don’t. Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you preen at her words. No matter how good Marc’s touch makes you feel, nothing compares to Layla's praise. With a newfound strength and determination to prove her right, you push Marc’s hand out of your pants and shove his face away. He watches you cover your chest, making it impossible for him to continue, and he huffs.

He sits up and contemplates his next move. He was really banking on you giving in and being able to test your girlfriend's patience together. Even when he's facing punishment himself, he loves seeing you endure one too. Seeing Layla's little angel get in trouble turns him on in a way he can’t describe. But it looks like you had more willpower than he thought, and he’ll be taking this one on his own.

As a last-ditch effort, he blurts out “She started it.” You gasp, knowing that’s a bold-faced lie.

He continues, “She was on me the moment you walked out the door. But you know how irresistible she is when she begs, I couldn’t help it. I’m just doing what you would’ve done.” He leers back at her, trying to stand firm. Layla sighs, not believing him for a second. She's getting frustrated. As much as she hates it when you two break the rules, she hates when you lie about it even more. She usually lets you off easier if you come forward and tell her what really happened. You always do but Marc has the habit of dodging the truth until she drags it out of him. It’s a nasty habit that she’s determined to break, and now is the perfect opportunity.

“He’s lying! He was trying to fuck me all night! I told him you’d be mad, but he wouldn’t listen.” You match the glare he shoots you, and he grabs your thigh firmly in warning, not appreciating the outburst. But you weren’t going to roll over on this one. You had worked really hard to finally find the strength to not give in for once and you’d be damned if you went down for this with him. You want your reward for being a good girl and you aren’t going to let him ruin that.

“You believe me don’t you, Lay?” You look up at her through your lashes and give her the sweetest look you can muster up. The nickname brings a smile to her face, and she replies, “Of course I do, baby.”

“But” Marc starts, and Layla raises her brow at him, daring him to keep testing her patience. He backs down immediately, hanging his head in defeat.

“Go lay on the bed sweetheart.” She instructs and leans down, connecting her mouth with yours. Marc, enjoying the show, subconsciously starts stroking your thigh but she is quick to swat his hand away. “You, go stand at the foot of the bed. And keep your hands to yourself.” she commands, and he follows you into the bedroom, dragging his feet.

He stands in front of you now, arms crossed in annoyance, and you smirk at him. “Thanks a lot.” he sneers.

“Hey, I said to be patient and we’d get rewarded. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” you say smugly, and he rolls his eyes.

Layla enters, grabbing the chair from the desk and placing it in front of the bed. She makes Marc strip. She then ties up his hands and orders him to sit but leaves him unrestrained otherwise. She removes her jacket and proceeds to strip you, softly caressing your sides as she does, and your skin heats up under her touch. Shifting you, she lays you at the end of the bed, parallel to the headboard, and gives Marc a full view of her body and yours. Normally he'd be thankful but under these circumstances it's torturous.

She makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. She's always thorough, taking the time to admire every inch of you. After leaving your stomach and thighs covered in love bites, and running her tongue over your marked skin, she buries her head between your thighs. She's gentle and diligent but she doesn't rush. Doesn't eat you out in a frenzy like Marc tends to do. She knows your body better than you do and knows just what to do to have you fall apart on her tongue.

She has to hold your waist down as you writhe on the bed. Your sultry moans and desperate cries have Marc involuntarily bucking his hips into the air, begging for relief. Before you know it, she has you cumming hard and you grind your hips against her mouth as she sucks on your clit, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. Giving you a second to catch your breath, she then positions you on the edge of the bed, exposing you to Marc, and takes her place behind you. She wraps her legs around yours and uses them to spread your thighs. Her movements begin slow, like before, and she starts by gently circle your clit with her fingers. The torturous speed has you crying out for more. Wanting to give you whatever your heart desires, she dips her fingers into you. They slip in easily, and each delicious drag of her digits against your walls has you bucking your hips against her hand.

Your arousal starts to form a ring around her fingers and drips onto the floor. The sight has Marc falling to his knees in front of you, face nearing your center. Layla gives him a warning look, but she can feel you getting close, so she doesn’t want to stop. Then she gets an idea. She pushes faster against that sweet spot inside you and matches that rhythm as she starts rubbing your swollen bud. Mesmerized by the sight, Marc leans his head against your thigh.

“No touching.” Layla commands and he nods. He doesn’t move any closer, practicing more restraint than he ever has in his life. She starts nipping at that spot under your ear and it has you squirming. You feel that familiar pressure building that you didn’t feel with your previous climax and smile, realizing what’s about to happen, and your whole body tenses. “I'm cumming” is all you can say before you start spasming and you explode all over his face. Marc flinches slightly at the unexpected splash of your arousal. It just keeps streaming out of you and he quickly opens his mouth wide, groaning as your sweet nectar coats his tongue. He gives Layla a pleading look, and she knows what he wants.

“You can clean off her thighs.” she says, loving the hungry look on his face. He laps at your drenched thighs and savors the taste that he's been dying for all night. You let out a satisfied purr and you eyes fall closed, feeling soothed by the warmth of his tongue. When he's finished, he takes a moment and just stares at your sex. Before he can stop himself, he lurches forward to indulge in your arousal from the source. Before he can reach you, though, Layla yanks his head back by his hair, clicking her tongue at him.

“Still don’t want to listen, huh?” She moves from behind you and drags him back to the chair. You already miss her warmth, but your excitement grows as she goes to open the trunk you keep on the corner of the room and pulls out some rope and a harness with the familiar pink silicone attached to the base. Your heart starts beating faster and you bite your lip, thrumming with excitement at what’s coming next. She inches the chair closer to the bed, and Marc is now just inches away. She ties him to the chair now, ignoring his grumbling. With her guidance, you are now on your hands and knees, head halfway off the end of the bed, now face to face with Marc. As Layla puts on the strap-on, you can’t help but smile at the pout on his face. You've never seen him this frustrated before and you would feel bad for him if it didn't turn you on so much.

Your girlfriend situates herself behind you, kissing up your spine, and you pull her up so her mouth meets yours and you moan at the saccharine taste of her. When she breaks the connection, her mouth finds your ear and she whispers, “You’re doing so good for me. My obedient girl.” The comment makes your heart swell. You hum, looking her in the eyes, and whisper “I love you.” She nuzzles her face against yours she affectionately replies, “I love you too, angel."

She sits back onto her haunches and rubs the silicone up and down your folds, each flick against your clit making your breath hitch. As she slides the length in to the hilt, you cry out and she sets a maddeningly slow pace. You're about to beg for more, but she already knows what you want. She slowly pulls out to the tip and then slams back into you, and begins giving you those hard, deep thrusts you crave.

After a while, your arms give out underneath you and you fall onto your chest. The arch of your back gives her a delicious view of your ass and she gives it a quick slap. You whine for more and she continues, landing multiple hits to both your cheeks and thighs and you squeal in delight. When she's done, she grabs firmly onto your hip with one hand and the other comes up to settle on the back of your neck and she pulls you back to meet her thrusts.

With your face now just inches away from Marc, you stick your tongue out, unable to resist the temptation to taunt him. It's a pretty juvenile thing to do, you admit, and can’t help the giggle you let out at the sight of the frustration bubbling up inside him, the aggravation showing clear as day on his face. Before you can pull your tongue back in your mouth, he leans forward and spits fast and hard, some landing in your open mouth, and some on your cheek. You gasp, but your surprise quickly morphs into a pathetic whine, loving the taste of him. You drag your tongue over your lips and the surrounding area, trying to get to the spatter that missed your mouth. A satisfied smirk appears on his face, and he mutters, "filthy fucking slut." You whine at his words, and it has you clenching down onto the silicone filling your cunt.

Layla, however, was not amused. She shoves your face down onto the mattress and leans over you to deliver a harsh slap to Marc's face. He moans at the contact, relieved to finally get some sort of stimulation. Before the sting can even settle over his skin, she delivers another. Then, she removes her weight from you and pulls your head up once more.

“That wasn’t very nice, was it baby?” You don’t respond, honestly wishing he'd do it again.

“Oh, you liked it didn’t you, naughty little thing.” You moan at her teasing and look Marc in the eyes, whining, "I want something in my mouth.”

He jolts forward, wanting to break free and give you what you want. An anticipative look crosses his face, and he hopes Layla will make him part of your reward.

“Oh, I'm sorry baby. Here you go.” Determined to keep Marc out of this, Layla hooks her fingers into your mouth. She chuckles at Marc's reaction as she sees his shoulders slump, clearly disappointed. You immediately wrap your lips around her digits and he zeros in on your movements, imagining it was him in your mouth instead.

Her thrusts become more brutal, each one knocking the thoughts right out of your head. You feel yourself mentally slipping, unable to form even one coherent sentence. All you can do is babble nonsense, hoping she understands how close you are to your release. Layla drags your head up by your hair and you face Marc again, mouth open and drooling down into the sheets. He's seen that look before and he knows you're right on the edge. He looks you right in the eyes and whispers, " Do it, baby. Cum." He's not even sure you heard him, but your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, and you start shaking. Layla holds you against her, knowing you love the closeness and skin to skin contact when you fall apart. All you can feel is white hot pleasure and you're crying out, mouth open in a silent scream as you gasp for breath. You don't even have time to come down from your climax before Layla starts pounding into you again, hard and fast. She holds you down, making you cum again and again.

When she can tell you've had enough, she stops her movements but stays planted inside you to the hilt, knowing you don’t want to feel empty just yet. She runs her hands all over you, trying to bring you back to her and help steady your breathing. You can't tell how much time has passed but when you're finally conscious of your surroundings again, the first thing you see is Marc's pitiful form in front of you. You want to help him. His angry red tip looks painful, and you actually start to feel bad for him. You somehow muster up the strength to reach an arm out to him and he looks at you lovingly. You were just fucked into oblivion, but you still want to make sure he feels good. It makes him smile and he desperately wants to pull you into his arms.

“Can I touch him, please?” You look over your shoulder and give Layla your best puppy dog eyes, hoping she'll cave like she always does when you look at her like that. She arches her brow at you and asks, “Am I not enough, sweetheart?”

“No! You are!” you reply frantically, immediately regretting your words. You continue, “Just look at him. So pathetic. I think he's learned his lesson.” He's been waiting so long and he’s so frustrated he can feel tears starting to form in his eyes. “Please. I'm so sorry. I'll behave. I promise." he begs.

She sighs, feeling conflicted. She knows she has pushed him hard but he did deserve it. She feels herself turning soft at that needy look in his eyes and concedes. She knows what he really wants. He wants one of you to ride him until he sees stars. This is still a punishment, however, so she decides to give him another form of relief.

Leaning down and kissing the crown on your head, she checks in, making sure you're not too overworked. She really gave it to you hard and wants to make sure you don't overdo it. "Are you sure? You look a little worn out." You're touched by her concern but nod eagerly.

"Go ahead baby. He can have your mouth." The sigh of relief that leaves Marc makes you want to laugh. You turn back to him, and your outstretched hand moves to caress his face. He leans into your touch, and kisses at the palm of your hand. You slide it down off his face and Layla helps you to your knees. He makes the most pitiful noise when you take him into your mouth, finally feeling the relief he's waited hours for. You have him cumming in just a few minutes and he thanks both of you profusely.

You're all exhausted, but that doesn't stop them from loving on you. Layla goes to draw a bath while Marc picks you up off the floor, placing soft kisses all over your face. He carries you to the bathroom, where Layla begins to do the same as Marc places you in the tub. The feeling of their love wraps you like a warm blanket, relaxing your mind as the bath water relaxes your tired muscles. You're half asleep when you all finally pile into bed, cuddling up close to one another. Layla lays you in the middle of them the middle and they wrap their arms around you and each other. Not having the energy tonight, you and Marc will be sure to give her a proper 'welcome home' in the morning.

yet another sugar daddy Ari 🥺🫣🥵🥵✨

warnings: age gap, daddy!kink, spanking, sugar daddy Ari, smut, minors dni, 18+

Ari loved showing you off. He loved taking you to his stuffy charity galas and parading you around like you were his little trophy girlfriend — which you were. Well, you were actually his sugar baby, but same difference. The bottom line was that he loved showing you off to other men who desired you and women who were jealous of you.

He’d buy you a pretty little dress — either an elegant gown or a strappy little cocktail dress, depending on the occasion — and it was always tight. He’d also cover you in glittering diamonds, and inform you to never leave his side unless he said so, or else. He’d press his hand to the small of your back and cart you around like you were his property, and you loved every second of it.

Tonight’s dress was form-fitted satin in the most gorgeous deep nude shade. Indecently short enough that several women had already given you disapproving looks. Not that you cared. What did it matter that Ari preferred to dress you in as little as possible? He liked making you wear barely-there dresses that showed off your curves, and he never allowed you to wear a bra because he liked the way your nipples would poke through the fabric. And panties? Forget about it.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be bratty tonight. Seeing Ari looking so delicious in his three piece suit with his long hair combed back? Oh, of course you’d be a little daring.

“Daddy, this event is stuffy and boring,” you complain, running your manicured nails up and down the lapels of his expensive suit. You knew deep down he loved how high maintenance you were, and he’d happily fund your frequent hair appointments, manicures, pedicures, makeup, clothes… anything you wanted.

“Boring?” Ari quirks a brow, rubbing your back soothingly, “you want to go home, baby? You feeling okay?”

Ugh. Of course he wasn’t just your sugar daddy who fucked you good and paid for anything you could ever want. Of course he had to be the nicest guy on earth too. But you took that as a challenge to push him to his limit.

“No, but I wish your friends weren’t so boring.”

Ari pinches your ass, “don’t be a brat, princess.”

That was code for: be brattier, so daddy can punish you.

You stick your chin up, “Maybe I should go hang out with Mr. Barber over there. He looks kinda lonely, doesn’t he? I heard he’s no longer with his wife…”

That comment has you bent over the sink in the ladies’ bathroom (which was thankfully empty). And okay, so maybe you shouldn’t have brought up Ari’s mortal enemy, but as you said before, you’d been feeling extra bratty. And now, your daddy was pressing his crotch against your butt, and you can’t help but smirk.

“Don’t look so smug, little girl,” Ari warns, running his hand up and down your back and making you shiver.

“I’m not smug, Ari.”

He narrows his eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

You don’t know why you’re pushing him so much tonight. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t punished you in a while now. Maybe it’s because things have been way too sweet lately, with Ari taking you out on romantic dates and shopping trips. Maybe you need a bit of thrill tonight, a bit of adventure. A rush of adrenaline. Or maybe you’re just a brat.

“Call you what, Ari?”

“Oh, baby girl. You’re in for it now.”

He rips your dress in half. And you were so not expecting that—because he’d literally gifted you this dress today! And it was Versace for crying out loud! What the hell was wrong with him? You’re about to ask him just that when his palm cracks against your bare ass. Hard.

“OW! That fucking hurts!”

“Good. You deserve it for disrespecting me.”

“Why? Just because I called you Ari? Which, by the way, is your name—OW!”

He slaps your ass five times in succession, each slap harder than the last. Harder than he’s ever spanked you before.

“Watch it,” he warns, although you can feel how hard he is. You know he likes it when you’re bratty, you know how horny it gets him to put you back in your place, to exert his power over you and remind you of how he’s in charge. “I had a diamond bracelet waiting in the car for you, but maybe I’ll return it if you don’t stop misbehaving.”

You scoff, “Return it. I don’t care.” (You do care).

He spanks you several more times, till your ass is stinging with that delicious pain. And of course you’re wet too, your slick running down your legs because getting smacked on the ass by Ari always gets you wet.

“You’re really asking for it tonight, aren’t you? But remember, you can only push daddy so far before it comes back to slap you in the face.” Ari grabs your ass cheek and jiggles it lewdly before smacking you again. “Or in your case, your ass.”

You have two options in front of you right now. You could give in, apologise and enjoy a thoroughly good fucking. Or you could push his buttons even further, further than you ever had before, and then dare to see what happens after that.

“It’s not my fault you dragged me along to your boring event, Ari. Maybe you don’t value me that much anymore, maybe I should find a new sugar daddy. As I said before, Mr. Barber’s single now, and I’m sure he’d love it if I called him da—”

CRACK.

You’d been too busy running your mouth to even notice that he’d undone his belt. It’s only when you feel it crack down on your ass that you stop short, crying out and gripping the marble sink beneath you. Fuck. That hurt. He hasn’t done it too hard (he wasn’t sadistic and you were still his baby girl) but it’s hard enough to make you gasp, knowing it’ll leave a mark on your poor ass.

“Try and smart mouth me again, sweetheart. Try it, I dare you.” Ari grabs your jaw roughly and tugs you up till you’re standing with your back flush against his torso.

You can’t speak because his grip on your jaw is too tight, so all you can do is desperately shake your head, rutting back into him to let him know you’re done with being a brat.

“Who am I?” He hits the belt on your ass once more, and the sting makes you wetter than ever. “Who am I, baby?”

He lets go of your jaw and you sputter, “daddy, okay?! You’re daddy!”

Ari smirks, his hand wrapping around your neck while he uses the other one to spread your legs, roughly running his fingers over your wet folds and making your knees buckle.

“Oh, now I’m daddy, huh?” He slams three of his fingers inside of you and you gasp at the intrusion and the immediate feeling of fullness. “Bratty fucking baby just loves to run her mouth, don’t you? Where’s that attitude disappeared to, huh?

Your legs already feel shaky and weak, your orgasm fast approaching because his fingers feel so thick and good, and the spanking had already turned you on. Not to mention how he’d been petting you and showing you off all night — that always got you hot too. You were this close to cumming.

“Daddy, please!” You garble.

“Not so feisty now, huh?”

“Nooo, daddy, please! Gonna cum!”

Immediately, Ari’s fingers leave your cunt, making your eyes pop open in shock. He brings his wet fingers up to your face, smearing your juices all over it, making you messier than you already are.

“Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He smirks.

“But daddy! I was only teasing! Please don’t leave me hanging, daddy! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” (Maybe you are, maybe you’re not… you just want to cum, in all honesty).

He scoffs, “Please. A flimsy apology like that would work on punks like Andy Barber. But not me.”

He drags you back outside. And he’d originally wanted you to go out in just your dress which is completely torn from the back, but you’d begged him to give you his jacket. Thankfully, he’d done you this small service. But everyone could tell what had just gone down in the bathroom. What with your torn dress, dishevelled hair and shiny face (he hadn’t let you clean it) paired with the fact that you were limping.

Yep. It was pretty obvious you’d been utterly wrecked — wrecked without even having been fucked. And Ari couldn’t be smugger. You were just thanking your lucky stars that at least his jacket was long enough to cover your ass with all its bruises and belt marks.

You expect him to take you home after that (he was hard after all, and you knew you’d be in for the fucking of your life once he got you alone). But instead, he makes a beeline towards Andy Barber, who looks white as a ghost at how inappropriate and fucked out you look.

“Andy, listen. We’re gonna have to leave early tonight.”

Andy manages to tear his gaze away from you. “Huh? How come?”

Ari looks at you meaningfully, “Baby, tell Mr. Barber why we have to go home.”

You look down and shake your head. There was no way in hell you were gonna say what he wanted you to say, what he’d coached you to say not minutes ago inside the bathroom. What you’d promised him you’d say.

But you don’t have a choice, because Ari pinches your ass not-so-subtly, and you yelp. Fuck.

“Tell him, baby.”

You hang your head and grit your teeth.

“I was naughty, so my daddy has to take me home so he can punish me. I’m sorry for being naughty at your event, Mr. Barber. My daddy will set me straight tonight.”

Ari looks smugger than the Cheshire Cat, you know he’s been wanting you to call him daddy outside of the bedroom and in front of other people for a while now. You’d always said fuck no, but he’d got his wish tonight. So you guessed you being bratty had paid off for one of you tonight…

But later, you find out, it pays off for you too. Ari fucks you like he’s never fucked you before. So hard and fast and frenzied, till you’re covered in bruises and your legs are shaking. And then he kisses you sweetly on the lips, and clasps your new diamond bracelet around your wrist. It’s got an inscription on the inside, which reads:

Daddy’s naughty little girl.

***

THE END SOCNSKKXKSAK BYE!

inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.

🌙 MY MK SKETCH BOOK 🌙⁠

------------⁠

But what if Steven Grant was a cute little archaeologist accidentally reading scripture from an ancient text in the name of historical curiosity and awoke an ancient priest that was just trying to reconnect with a girlfriend? MummyAU anyone?

My Dear Birdie

Summary: Anselm Vogelweide is charmed by you and his strangeness turns you on

Contents: 🔥 18+ nsfw and very smutty, sex w/ humor, sex toys, exhibitionism, mention of drugs, p in v, butt stuff, food stuff (~2.8k)

------------

It had begun as a joke. A friend of a friend had said, "do you want to meet the weirdest guy that anyone has ever met. Ever?"

"Yes?" You'd said.

And that's how you'd entered Anselm Vogelweide’s social sphere. 

And he was as advertised. Old-fashioned suits and way of speaking, unnecessarily old leg brace and glasses. His dark black and gray hair parted neatly, but still a bit wild, and a beard that moved as much as his lips when he talked. Surrounded by a group of people that, well, it was hard to say if some of them were even human people.

Despite the affectations, he was devastatingly handsome to you and had a magnetism you hadn’t known existed.

"But you are so delicate," he had said with a smile as you'd shaken his hand for the first time. "My dear little birdie."

"Says a guy with Vogel in his last name," you'd mumbled.

He held your hand, put his other on top of it, gently stroking your skin. "My dear birdie, might you know anything about crime?"

You tried to remember to ask your friend, how their friend, had come to know this insanely rich oddball. He was clearly up to no fucking good.

You looked at Anselm, trying to focus on the one, clear lens of his glasses. "Oh sure I majored in organized crime. Minor in destruction of evidence."

Anselm laughed. A strange, rusty sound. "Oh, dear birdie, you are very naughty."

And that had made you laugh.

He'd invited you to keep him company the next weekend. You’d been visiting him for almost a year off and on.

His library was like something out of a dream; huge illustrated botany books, German fairy tales with gold leaf embossing, careful notes in the margins of several editions of Anna Karenina, and shelves and shelves of very dirty, very specific books. 

Like you'd read one where a seven-dicked God had been tricked into impregnating an entire harem of beautiful, soft-skinned, half-plant women with three or four breasts each. And it had drawings.

There was something about Anselm. He’d never made a move on you, though you knew he had women or men brought to the estate sometimes.

He stared at you whenever you were in the room. You could tell by the way his eyes watched you that the man knew his way around someone else's body. Yours was born female, but you knew it made no difference to him. He liked you.

Maybe it was because of the accident he never talked about. His own body didn’t work so well. Not that you’d thought about how his body worked. Ahem

The skin on the left half of his body was scarred and made it difficult for him to hear from that side. Every once in awhile, his breathing got away from him.

He wore a creaky leg brace and once, when one of his lackeys had suggested he should use a cane, Anselm had shot the guy in the leg.

“Now you need one,” he’d said dryly.

It shouldn’t have been normal to watch something like that, but Anselm had no interest in normal. And you found that, surprisingly, you didn’t either.

“Dear birdie, come bend over my desk,” he says to you one evening as you sit on the sofa in his study, reading. His words are slowly drawn out, his strange accent turning his cadence warm and intimate.

“What?” You look over at him. He’d just finished a drink and had made the request as if it was something you did all the time instead of completely out of left field.

“Don’t you think it’s time that we stop being so patient with each other? I have been fucking women who look like you for three months now. It is not satisfying anymore. I must, I must, have the real thing.”

You close the book and lay it on the couch. You look across from you, to where Anselm’s third cousin is sitting, pretending not to listen, and one of Anselm’s bodyguards is looking at the exchange with interest.

“Anselm, can we be alone?” You say as you stand.

He flicks his fingers at the sofa and the two other men leave as you approach Anselm’s desk. He strokes his beard, taking in your figure with a deep inhale.

“Bend over the edge of my desk and let me bury myself in you.“

“Whoa, Anselm,” you hold up your hand, “what brought all of this on? We’ve known each other for months now. I kind of assumed you weren’t interested in fucking me.”

He tut-tuts you with his tongue, one finger wagging back and forth at you. “Fucking is fucking, dear birdie. But with you, I had to be patient. I have not gotten to where I am in life by refusing to put in a little effort.”

“Living proof that crime does pay, sometimes.”

He ignores you and continues. “And I have put in so much effort for you, for one so small in stature. You have noticed my gestures. And I have noticed that you have noticed. I have seen your eyes stroking my cock, you naughty thing. You shouldn’t tease.” He pats the leather top of his desk.

“Okay, I have been doing that, yeah,” you say.

“I treasure your honesty. And you. Not only your mind, but I’m sure, also your body.”

You’d never thought of your body in any particular way. In fact, it had been awhile since you’d been with anyone. You’d been busy. And here was Anselm, with his strange praise and alluring invitation.

You walk around his desk and, still sitting, he pulls you in closer, stroking your shoulders and arms, down your legs, before turning you by the hips to face his desk. You bend over prettily for him and grip the far edge. He sighs as if he can finally relax. You hear his chair scrape as he positions it directly behind you.

“You are a comfort to me,” he says as he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down carefully with your underwear.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.”

“I will not be offended that you sound so surprised.”

You shrug.

“Look at you. Perfection. You smell of sex.” You feel his breath between your legs as he talks, a slight brush of his soft beard. “Let me clean you with my tongue.”

He uses his fingers to pull the lips of your cunt apart and he wastes no time diving in, tongue-first, moaning. You feel the cold of his glasses press against the flesh of your ass as he digs his tongue as far as it can go, his beard lighting up every nerve ending you have. He swirls his tongue around and around, before sucking gently while tonguing your hole, his thumb working back the hood of your clit to make you hiss and squirm.

“Anselm,” you say.

“Be still,” he says, giving your ass a firm pat. His thumb grazes over your asshole. “May I?”

A knock at the door jolts you, but Anselm holds you firmly with his hands.

“Business, dear birdie,” he says. “Do you mind?”

He licks you again, from your clit all the way back to your rim, the tip of his tongue playfully poking at your hole.

“I don’t mind,” you say.

“Come in,” Anselm yells loudly. “Be quick or I will shoot you,” he tells the butler who comes in.

The man sets down a silver tray stacked with strapped cash. A cookie on a white linen napkin is perched on top. The butler is straight-faced and he’s probably seen much stranger while working in Anselm’s household. 

“Ah, yes, my winnings,” Anselm says, mouth still between your legs, making you squirm, “but take the cookie with you. Chocolate chip cookies do not go with beautifully wet cunt.” He lifts his head long enough to yell at the butler. “GET THE FUCK OUT. No one has any respect for my time,” he says to you, through your pussy.

You’re having trouble catching your breath. Anselm’s lips and tongue are sucking and teasing you like you are his last meal on Earth. Even though a butler you’ve only seen a few times was just watching you get eaten out, you’re coming. Hard. Your fingers dig into the edge of his desk, thighs shaking, throat burning from moaning so loudly. Your brain goes completely white as pleasure seizes your muscles.

Anselm is just lapping and licking at you, humming over every drop you give him, licking down your thighs to catch anything he’s missed.

Finally, once your lungs actually work again and your body has relaxed over his desk, even though your hips are digging into the wooden edge, he sits back in his chair.

He gently taps your legs aside so he can open the top drawer of his desk. He shuffles around in it for a bit before closing it and standing, leaning his body over yours to show you what he’s retrieved.

“I would like to put this in your ass while I fuck you,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at it. “Is that a dildo made of wood?”

“It’s an antique,” he says delightedly, running his fingers over the carved ridges of its length. 

Your eyes shift to his face and you just barely resist making a joke that would surely have pissed him off.

He frowns. “Cold in here. I shall warm it for you.” 

He rolls it between the palms of his hands and you have to bite your top lip to keep from laughing.

“This is one that I enjoy myself immensely,” he says. “There is no craftsmanship in sex toys these days. Mass produced intimacy. I’ve already had a custom harness sent from Italy to restrain you in. I’m sure it will fit. I’m very good with visual weights and measurements. You know, I made most of my early money in cocaine.”

He reaches back into the drawer for a bottle of lube and coats the wooden length liberally, using what’s left on his hands to tease you and make sure you’re ready for him.

Anselm looks at your holes. “Perhaps I should do this the other way around,” he looks at the dildo. “No, next time.”

He rests the tip of the dildo at your asshole. You nod your permission. 

As he pushes the dildo slowly into you, working it past your initial resistance and then letting it sink in completely, he moans just as deeply as you do. You hear him undo his belt and pants. Another metallic sound that you assume is dispatching with his brace, which you’re grateful for because if he creaked as he fucked you, you didn’t know if you’d be able to come again. 

Or maybe, you’d have a hard time without it now that you’d thought of it. Next time, as Anselm had said.

He runs the searing hot length of his cock along your inner thighs, which is a kindness because if he’d gone straight to shoving it inside of you, you might have fallen asleep waiting for him to get balls deep. No wonder he felt the freedom to be so strange. He’s filthy rich and has a dick the size of your forearm.

Anselm is slow and steady as you tense, then remember to relax, then clench around him as he fills you, relaxing again so the head of his cock can shove your walls open for the rest of him to slide inside. He’s so thick that the edges of your little hole sting and burn around him, but it only adds to how good he feels inside of you.

You’re brainless before he gets even halfway. He shifts you forward, your feet leaving the ground so you’re laying, bent over, completely at his mercy. Anselm lifts you up enough to slide one of his hands under your sweater and palm your breast. His other hand hooks over your face, two of his fingers sliding into your mouth, cradling against the inside of your cheek to better pull you against him. But gently, everything strangely gentle.

“You are a big girl and can tell me if you have had enough, yes?” He whispers into your ear. “You need only ask me to stop. I will give you the cookie that imbecile left here in my office and you can be on your way.”

You swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth. “Don’t stop,” you say around Anselm’s fingers. 

He kisses your cheek and rolls his hips forward, giving you the rest of him and knocking every single molecule of air out of your lungs. In fact, you were pretty sure his dick was up there somewhere resting against your sternum. The wooden dildo in your ass ensures that your entire body feels snug and tight around him. So full and so good.

You hold tight onto the edges of Anselm’s desk, trying to push back for more, or at least hold still enough to encourage him to fuck you harder. And then he withdraws slightly, and more, and back in and good lord, feeling this much pleasure was going to do permanent brain damage.

Drool drips out of you where his fingers are inside of your mouth. It drips down your chin and onto his desk. Your eyes are rolled back in your head and you are grunting like an animal as he starts pounding into you, praising how soft and tight you are, how the sound of your wet hole is a symphony he’s going to record and play as he sleeps at night, how he wants to hear your moans in every room of the mansion, how he wants to eat his meals from the space between your breasts, how he wants to put a candle in your asshole and light it because it’s his birthday soon, and to tell him what you would want for your birthday next year. He hoped it was More.Of.This. His words punctuated by his sharp thrusts.

And you think you agree to everything because your cunt is squeezing around him like his dick is pure electricity, overstimulating your nerves and spasming your entire body. You can’t even speak, but you do love hearing how filthy he’s going to make you be for him.

God, is that wet sound echoing through the room you? It is. And Anselm is right. You want to record it and hear it too. So you can come in your sleep to dreams of him fucking his enormous cock into you just like this.

Anselm slows his hips, pushing up your sweater to below your breasts. He lays a hand gently on your lower back. You turn your head to look at him. He has a look on his face you’ve never seen. It isn’t tolerance or fondness, or his usual huffy impatience, or even the look of appreciation he has for your witty quips or when you wear a particular outfit he likes. Anselm is looking at you softly, with love.

“Please, let me finish on your beautiful skin,” he asks, beard moving in a way that tells you his lips are trembling slightly.

You almost come again as he pulls out, your walls sucking on the head of his cock like your body doesn’t want him to ever leave. He rests himself along your lower back.

Anselm starts to work the dildo in and out of your asshole as you feel him use his hand to pull himself toward orgasm. He works the dildo faster and you come again, clenching around the ridges carved into the wood, cunt squeezing tightly on nothing but your own skin and wetness. Anselm groans loudly and you feel him coming messily all over you before letting a pool of his cum gather in the dip of your lower back.

He runs his hand over your hair, taking in a deep breath as you blink and try to get your eyes to focus again. 

Anselm reaches over toward the stack of money still on his desk and takes the cookie off the top. You hear him take a bite of it and chew. You rest your head, not sure if you’ll have the energy to move your body ever again.

A scratching sensation drags through the cum on your back. Anselm clears his throat and leans forward to present you with the other half of the chocolate chip cookie, slightly shiny around the edges. You lean forward and he feeds it to you, wiping the outer corner of your mouth with his thumb.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your entire life.

-----

Leave It On- a continuation of My Dear Birdie

Oscar Isaac as Steven Grant in Moon Knight (for @dameronalone)

thinking about getting crossfaded with marc and then steven fronts ..!!!

18+ minors dni

words: 2.1k

warnings: crossfaded!steven grant x f!reader, marc angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol and weed, light choking, pinv sex, unprotected sex

summary: Marc comes home from a rough mission. He doesn’t want to talk about it; it’s one of those nights where he needs a crutch to ease his sore body and racing thoughts, and he needs you with him. When Steven fronts and is met with the unfamiliar effects of mixing smoking and drinking, there’s only one thing he feels like doing with (to) you.

It’s one of those nights where Marc creeps into the apartment after a long mission with his body sore and tired, his mind racing. It’s past midnight and the sound of the door opening has you stepping out of your shared bedroom and into the hall, arms wrapped around yourself and standing in one of Marc’s shirts as you watch him silently. You watch his broad back as he rummages through your junk drawer in the kitchen, pushing aside rubber bands and post it notes and business cards before grabbing a lighter and making his way to the balcony, fishing a joint from the back pocket of his jeans as he slides the door open and steps outside.

Of course, you follow him. You don’t say anything as you stand beside him and look out at the city skyline against the dark blue sky. You’ve been with Marc long enough and have seen him like this enough times to know that what he needs most is you by his side; not your pity, not your fear or worry, just your presence.

He leans his forearms on the railing and sparks the joint between his lips, taking a deep toke that he holds in his lungs for a few beats before blowing it out. The joint appears between two of his rough fingers an inch in front of your mouth. Marc watches with heavy eyelids as your soft lips close around the filter and you take a drag.

An hour or so later you’ve both made your way back into the apartment, Marc’s shoulders looking more relaxed, the notch between his eyebrows gone. The living room is lit only by the blueish street lamps outside that flood through the window and a few randomly placed candles you lit in an attempt to mask the lingering smell of weed. The coffee table’s become cluttered with a near-empty bottle of wine and two empty glasses, the lighter from the junk drawer and a triangular ashtray meant to resemble a pyramid from the museum gift shop.

The flashing picture of the television reflects in you and Marc’s dry eyes as you half-watch some shitty movie from your seat on the couch. You’re lying between Marc’s legs with your back to his torso, your head rising and falling against his chest with each breath. He’s so warm and his breathing is deep and slow, but you notice the way his stress lingers in how his large hands squeeze your waist, and his strong arms hold you against him so tightly as if someone or something would try to rip you away.

Later on, you feel Marc’s hold on you ease up and his breaths get deeper. Lifting your head slightly from his chest, you look up to confirm he’s asleep and press your lips softly to his stubbled jaw, whispering “I love you,” against his skin. You sit up and turn noiselessly above Marc so you can lay your chest on his torso and wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his chest and closing your dry eyes to slip into your own sleep.

⋆

A sudden movement from beneath you forces you awake, making your heart jump in your chest and eyelids snap open to darkness; it was still nighttime. You must have just fallen asleep, because it’s easy to open your eyes and prop yourself up on your hands on either side of Marc’s body. His torso is tense against your chest and his breaths are quick. His hands no longer rest on your lower back, but hover just above it, as if you’ll break at the softest touch; this wasn’t Marc.

Steven’s red eyes are wide and looking at the paraphernalia that litters the coffee table, “Oh, dear,” he rasps in his accent, slightly slurring his words, “You and Marc have had quite the party.”

His eyes turn to meet yours and you bite the inside of your cheek as you realize something, Steven’s never gotten high before.

“Steven?” you say, “...Are you feeling alright?”

In the dark room you barely notice Steven’s cheeks flush red to match the colour of his eyes, his hands come to rest on your hips and his fingers play anxiously with the hem of your (his) shirt. You’re sitting on your knees between his thighs, still only wearing the shirt and a pair of panties. Your face is still flushed from being pressed against his chest and the blueish light from outside makes your skin glow softly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he rasps, “That stuff really… clouds your head up, dunnit?”

“Do you… like it?” you ask. Your big doe eyes are red and searching Steven’s face for any bad signs.

“I, well,” one of his big hands leaves your hip to scratch the back of his neck, his thick bicep flexing with the movement, “I don’t quite know what to do with myself, to be honest.”

His hips squirm slightly on the couch and you look down to see a bulge beneath his briefs, Marc having discarded their jeans hours earlier. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and bring a hand to rub up and down his thigh, the muscles tensing instantly as he inhales sharply, “You should just relax, baby,” you say, “Y’want me to help?”

“God,” he moans, “Yes, yes, I need your help, love. Please… please, help.”

“Tell me what you need, Steven.”

His hands push your shirt up out of the way, his fingers tugging at your panties, “Wanna fuck you,” he says lowly, “Please let me, baby.”

A quiet moan, almost a sigh, leaves you at his words. The drugs were doing something to Steven, whether he was more confident or he just wanted you that badly, you weren’t sure, but Steven was usually the timid one in the system, asking to be fucked rather than begging to fuck you. Regardless, his change in demeanor was more than okay with you.

His droopy eyes were dark and greedy as they raked over your body, and his warm hand cupped one of your tits over your shirt, salivating at the way the fabric outlined your hardened nipples. You whined at the touch, wanting to feel his skin on yours, “Fuck me, please Steven.”

Your clothes fall to the floor as Steven pulls them off of you. You hiss as he tugs your panties down and you feel the cool air against your warm centre.

“God,” Stephen groans, “You’re so wet f’me. Pussy’s glistening so pretty.”

“Stevennn,” you whine as he kneels above you, holding your knees open and staring down at your cunt.

“Shh, shh,” he stands to pull down his briefs and release his thick cock, dark hair trailing down his lower stomach to the base, before returning to the couch above you, “I’m here, baby. Let us take care of you, yeah?”

Steven grips his cock to guide it to your dripping centre, guiding the thick head through your wet folds to get himself slick. He lands a glob of spit on your cunt before slowly pushing into you. You whine out at the feeling, warmth pooling in your tummy at the familiar way he stretches you, “A-ah… Steven, mmh.” His cock is so hard and thick, and you can’t help that your walls are already squeezing around him.

Steven groans as he collapses over you, holding himself up with his forearms on either side of your head and pushing into you so slowly. Excruciatingly slow. Your head is still hazy from the wine and weed, all you can focus on is the pressure in your belly as Steven bottoms out inside of you. You’re clawing at his bare back, the muscles there rippling and tensing with each long thrust.

He leans his head back to look at you, how you look so pretty for him in the pale light, glossy eyes going unfocused and dumb and he pushes in and out of your cunt, your jaw slack and pink lips parted as you whine and moan, bare tits bouncing softly as he fucks you. He brings a big hand to your throat and squeezes so lightly that you barely register the pressure. Steven has seen Marc hold your neck like this so many times from the mirror in your bedroom, but the view of you pawing at his forearm as you gasp in breaths from this angle turns him on a thousand times more. It has him picking up speed, his thrusts causing a rhythmic and wet slapping as you gush around his length, your juices coating his heavy balls that slap against the soft flesh of your ass.

Your plush thighs tighten around his hips, your eyelids fluttering shut as you blindly paw at Steven’s hard chest, “Come here,” you whine, making Steven collapse over you again and chuckle softly.

“Is that nice, love?” his warmth breath hitting the shell of your ear, “Is my cock filling you nicely? Can you feel me in your belly, baby? Tell me.”

“S-so good, Steven. Sooo deep, mmh.”

“God, such a sweet girl,” he moans, trailing kisses from beneath your ear down your chest and to your tits, taking a nipple between his teeth before darting his tongue out to lick the bud, rolling your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “Lettin’ me fuck you like a good girl, aren’t you? Takin’ this cock so well, so nicely.”

You open your eyes to watch Steven pinching and sucking on your nipples. A few dark curls fall over his forehead and his thick brows furrowed in concentration, all the while still thrusting into your leaking cunt. You squeeze around his girth at the sight, he was so hungry for you, sloppily and greedily devouring your tits, a trail of his spit glistening across your chest.

“Steven… W-wanna cum,” you whine, grabbing at his hips to pull him closer, deeper.

He pulls his mouth away from your nipple with a pop and looks down at you, all hooded eyes and puffy wet lips, “Shh, alright,” he coos, “Let me pound you ‘til y’cum. Would y’like that?”

You only manage to nod your head a few centimetres before Steven takes your hips in his hands, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he lifts your hips and begins slamming his cock into you. The new angle and the force of his thrusts has you crying out. Your cries and gasps fill the apartment, along with the smack of his hips against you, your pussy squeezing and squelching as Steven bullies his thickness inside your tight hole.

“That’s it,” he groans, “S’good at takin’ cock, sweet girl.”

The rough pad of Steven’s thumb began rubbing harsh circles over your clit, the pressure threatening to snap the invisible cord inside you. The thick head of his cock pounds that sweet spot deep inside you and his length rubs against your soaked and gummy walls.

“Fuckkk, y/n,” he moans, “Squeezin’ me so tight. Y’gonna cum, baby? All over m’cock?”

His deep and raspy voice has you falling over the edge, the invisible cord snapping in your tummy as you gush and throb around his length. Steven falls forwards and wraps his arms around you, your face buried into his neck as you sobbed, his face pressed into your hair as he grunted deeply.

Steven rides out your orgasm, pushing his still hard cock in and out of your sore cunt. He finally pulls out of you when you push on his chest and whine at the overstimulation.

He brings your legs together and hugs your knees to his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulder as he rubs his length between your wet, puffy folds and sticky inner thighs. You both stare down at the sight of his leaking cockhead poking through your thighs with each thrust.

“Mmf,” he moans, “M’cummin’, m’cummin’, fuckkk…”

Warm, thick spurts of Steven’s cum coat your lower belly as he cums. You swallow thickly and bite your bottom lip at the sight. It’s so filthy, Steven’s cock between your weak and shaking thighs, his forehead glistening with the effort of bringing you both to the finish line. His wet tongue darts out to wet his lips, his jaw slack as he stares down at your spent and fucked out body that’s now covered in his cum.

He presses a kiss to your shin before letting your legs down and heading to the bathroom for a cloth to clean you up, stumbling a little on the way.

Once he’s wiped you clean, Steven lays beside you propped up on his elbow, one hand on the side of your face and rubbing your temple with his thumb, the other roaming your body, squeezing your tits lightly, rubbing your tummy and hips, kneading the flesh of your thighs with his fingers.

You fall asleep to Steven’s warm voice in your ear. He chants quiet “Thank you”s and “I love you”s until he drifts off too.

<3

can i ask for a steven and premature ejaculation not really a kink but i can’t help myself

I have abandoned the three/four sentences, I feel no shame

*

Steven’s breaths become staggered, eyes squeezing shut in a familiar way.

“Hold it, Steven,” you warn him, slowing the way you bounce on his cock until it is a leisurely roll of your hips, and then it is nothing at all.

“Can’t,” he gasps, “I—oh no, no no—!”

His cock twitches inside you, warm seed spilling deep in your cunt, where he has shot the last two premature orgasms as well. Sighing, you lift yourself off of him, watching the way his hard cock falls to slap wetly against his belly.

You reach for his cock and begin to stroke him, his body writhing, teeth clenched in oversensitivity. “Get hard for me, honey. We’ll try again.”