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eatitupforlunch · 19 days ago

Note

Hi!!! Been a silent lurker for a while so I thought l'd request something. If you're comfortable l'd like a Matt and Trey x plus size!reader if you're comfortable writing that. Maybe like their assistant with a bit of corruption kink thrown in there? Idk go crazy l'm just so parasocial about those losers

“No one can do it like us huh?” 18+

Matt stone x Trey Parker x F!reader

Authors note:I’m definitely comfortable doing plus sized reader! I normally try to make my writing so everyone can read it no matter what you look like or who you are so I hope I did this justice. This fic also may or may not be based off experience…

CW: Going out on a date with a douchey rich guy made you appreciate two men that have been in your life for years and maybe a good hook up with the two will fix your awful night.

Warning: One choice comment from the douchey date, smut 18+, oral, fingering, p in v, just overall nsfw

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Sitting her at a fancy restaurant with a “Hollywood elite” wasn’t were you thought you’d be spending your free Friday night but here you are. I mean the guy seemed friendly enough when you met at some event you went to with Matt and Trey. To be fair he wasn’t really a “Hollywood elite” but that’s what you call him. Matt and Trey called him “Stuck up rich bastard” and were surprised when you said you were going out on a date with him tonight.

“Can’t believe you’re actually going out on a date with him” Matt said still in shock. “I know I normally don’t go out with people like him but it might not be all bad.” You said trying to convince them if not yourself at this point. They both scoff “A rich bastard like him! Are you kidding? He’s totally a douche!” Trey said looking at you still in disbelief like you had fallen for his trick. That this was the worst mistake for trusting someone like him.

They hid their concerns about your date behind snarky comments and rude remarks they made towards him. Yes, Matt and Trey liked you more than the average person can say. Not only had you supported them since college, you’ve been there helping plan out some of the episodes before you ended up on the writing team officially. You also doubled as an assistant for them when they needed one. You were just there for them through it all and they genuinely just respect you so much as a person. So seeing you go out with someone who is so obviously going to waste your time, made them feel some type of way about it.

“Well hopefully you get a good dinner out of it” Trey jokes at you; trying to lighten the mood. “Have fun in hell” Matt said with a teasing smile as you were about to head out to go on this “awful” date.

Anyway, It was going fine. Honestly you weren’t so sure what they were so critical of. You talked about your interests and found things in common. You seemed to get along just fine. Until things did in fact go wrong.

You don’t know what made him think acting borderline incompetent was cute but it turned you off of him so fast you almost left right before your food even got there. When someone asks you a question and you answer it just for them to ask you the same question not only a second later, irked you in a way you couldn’t quite place right now. Like “were you not listening to a thing I was saying or what?” You thought this the entire time you had a conversation with him. This also made you realize how one sided the conversation was. He only talked about himself. Only bringing you up when he would think it would align with talking about himself more. You mention anything about yourself or talk about anything else and it quickly gets turned around to him. It ended up being about what he does, what he likes, what he has. It was all about him.

This made you upset but you decided to stick it out because no way were Matt and Trey right. I mean you knew they had a reputation for being right but damn it, you didn’t want them to have this one.

What better way to fix a conversation gone wrong then with a quick joke in between conversation, right? Wrong. Instead of laughing, hell maybe even a pity laugh, he just stared at you. Just stared. Before going straight back to talking. You have never been more embarrassed. “Like damn, at least act interested or something. Matt and Trey would’ve laughed at that, Trey for sure” you thought. You never thought you’d say this but you’re currently missing those two right now more than you’ve ever felt.

You know it’s probably wrong to be thinking of two totally different men while on a date but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You guys would probably be out drinking at some dingy bar, laughing, smoking, and having a grand old time. Maybe even getting a little closer to them than you should be when you only view each other as “just friends”.

“Oh God, can this dinner not end fast enough.” You think to yourself. Preferably before you start having revelations about your feelings at your two friends. At this point you’ve zoned out completely on anything this guy is saying.

After pretty much scarfing down your entire meal so you can leave faster, he decides that telling you how much money he has is going to help “win you over.” “Fat chance in hell buddy.” You think to yourself. At this point you can practically hear Matt and Trey making fun of him. That almost puts a smile on your face. Almost.

Finally, by a miracle, you make it through. As you are about to leave, he once again opens his big mouth and says “Hey I’m having a party with a few of my guy friends on a yacht this Saturday… uhh you should come.” God you have never felt more pissed off. Like can he not take a hint. You acting uninterested and distance the rest of the date wasn’t proof enough apparently. You quickly shoot off a “No thanks, I don’t think this is going to work out really. I think it’s best we stay friends.” You’re not even sure why you said the last part you just wanted him gone and if that was the way to do it, you were going to do it.

“Oh well, I also know a spot that you’d like. I mean I can invite some guys over or-“ You cut that shit off immediately. “No thank you, But thank you for dinner this has been lovely.” You say while giving a tight smile before quickly rushing out of there like your life depended on it. “Well you weren’t my type anyway.”OH FUCK HIM. You almost ran back in there but decided to keep going to your car. Insecure men like him don’t deserve it anyway. You’re more pissed now that Matt and Trey were right.

While in the car, you started thinking about everything that just happened and the worst part is, this is what made you realize you were starting to genuinely like Matt and Trey more than you ever were willingly to admit to yourself. This date solidified that for you.

They never would’ve treated you like that and they were apparently assholes, cruel, and heartless as told by the public. They would’ve never done something like this to anyone let alone you. Sure they could be rough around the edges and a lot sometimes but never down right awful like this. They would’ve treated you better and you know it deep down somewhere.

You get home and rush to call the office which you aren’t even sure if they’re even there. Maybe there really is a God because Matt picks up. “Hello-“ you cut him off “Oh thank God you’re still there.” “Uhh yeah, Trey had an idea for next season so he started writing about it and I just decided to stay with him. What’s wrong?” He asks with concern at the end of his voice. “Uhh nothing, can you guys come over tomorrow? I know it’s late..” you started rambling before Matt stops you “It’s not that late, we can come over after or you can come here?” You respond “whatever’s good” “You had a bad date didn’t you?” Damn it. “Maybe” “I KNEW IT DUDE” Matt said with so much enthusiasm it made you smile even if it was at your own expense. “Yeah, yeah just hurry up and make sure Trey doesn’t kill himself. I’ll be here.” You say before saying your goodbyes.

It was before long they got there and were quickly asking questions about your night. You already having gone through almost a bottle of beer out of purely wanting to take the edge off. At this point you want to forget the date even happened.

“Thay bad huh?” Matt asked. “Honestly, yeah. You guys want one?” They decided ‘why not’ as you went to get the drinks as they get comfortable on the couch.

“So we were right about him?” Trey said with a shit eating grin while Matt smirked at you. “Unfortunately, yeah. It was worse than you could imagine.” You start explaining everything in as much grave detail as you could. “Dude he can’t even act, dance or do anything! Oh yeah that was another thing! He thinks just because someone filmed in one of the many houses he owns that this makes him some big Hollywood star or something.” You continue to rant about him with Matt and Trey agreeing with you that yeah fuck that guy.

“Dude that’s like seriously awful. I’m sorry about that.” Matt said taking a sip from his bottle with a sympathetic look on his face. “I mean, as much as we joke it’d be bad we didn’t mean this bad.” Trey said sympathetically and if they didn’t hate the guy already the next sentence you say will change everything entirely. Not just between the guy and them but between you and them.

“Oh yeah, one other thing, he said how I wasn’t his type anyway and kept mumbling shit under his breath.” You say before flopping down on the sofa between them and taking a long drink. Who knew telling a story could be so exhausting like you weren’t just standing up and almost yelling at some points.

“What?” Matt asked. “Yeah he was just saying weird shit but I didn’t stop and continued on.” You said. You were calm now having let it out but Matt and Trey were not. “Are you fucking kidding me? He really said that shit to you.” Matt said looking kind of pissed off. “Dude what the fuck?” Trey said more in shock than anything.

“Eh I think he just wanted to sleep with me maybe? I don’t know but God knows I don’t want to sleep with him.” You said not knowing that Matt and Trey are now slightly pissed off on your behalf. “What a prick. Saying that shit to you.” Matt said looking more pissed the more he spoke. “You should’ve of hit him.” Trey said sort of seriously but you could also see that he was sort of kidding. You laugh “I thought about it but he doesn’t deserve that and I doubt he’d want people to see that I hit him. You think he’d cry?” They both crack a smile at you. “Oh yeah totally.” Trey said. The tension only eased slightly.

Maybe it was the buzz of you all drinking or the tension between the three of you that never quite went away but one of you got caught slipping up. “Well if it makes you feel any better, you look really good tonight.” Matt said while smiling at you. You laughed. “Well thanks.” “Yeah you look good, really good.” Trey said looking you up down. “Well if it makes you guys feel any better, I missed you guys tonight.” You said. You meant it too. “Oh yeah?” Matt asked you. “Yeah” you responded.

Blame the tension or the alcohol but sooner or later you’re in a pretty hot make out session with the two of them on your couch. Matt’s currently got you facing him while he’s kissing you with Trey behind you kissing up and down your neck. Their hands running up and down your body; gripping onto anything they can get a hold of.

“Is she a good kisser Matt?” Trey asks. Matt lets go of the kiss and out of breath says “Definitely.” Trey continues to go to town on your neck while grabbing one of your tits causing you to moan. “That feel good?” Trey asks you. You nod your head mouth slightly agape. “You wanna do this?” Matt asks. You respond with a quick “yes” before they’re practically ripping your clothes off. They leave you in a bra and underwear and even those didn’t stay on long. You too also quickly try to help them get their clothes off as quickly as possible. They also were stripped down to nothing. You sloppily trying to make out with each one. You all look like horny teenagers acting like you’ve never kissed someone before.

Matt tells you to lay back down and let him do the work as he grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulder. He spits on his fingers before putting his fingers over your slit which is already wet at this point. “So wet,sweetheart” Matt says while slowly entering and leaning down lower to whisper it in your ear. You only hum in response as Trey lifts your head to lay on his thigh as he palms the tip of his dick.

“That feel good?” Matt asks as he finds that spot that makes you gasp out loud. You close your eyes and shake your head. Matt continues to finger you like his life depends on it. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration with his lips between his teeth. While Trey is watching and rubbing his tip while jerking his dick every now and then.

“So pretty.” Matt says under his breath. “Rub your clit for me sweetheart.” If his fingers don’t get you off, the sweet words will. You begin to rub your clit in sync with how fast Matt is fingering you. Sooner or later you’re coming all over Matts fingers with a “Oh fuck” and a “that felt good”.

Oh honey, they were just getting started. Now that they let you get off, it’s their turn and you were happy to go again. Deciding that Matt is going to fuck you from behind while you suck off Trey. “You don’t mind letting one of us use that pretty mouth of yours, do you?” One of them asked which of course you didn’t mind. You honestly sobering up a little bit at the thought one of the fantasies you’ve had about them before, late at night, is coming true.

Matt quickly running over to his pants thrown across the living room to get a condom, while you and Trey get into position. Trey smacks his dick on your face which warranted a semi bitchy glare from you. Trey just laughs as Matt comes over and grabs your hips to line up with your pussy. Matt slowly pushes in with a groan as you let out a sharp hiss. Trey softly grips your hair as you grab his dick and kiss the tip before going down on him. Trey shudders as Matt starts thrusting in slowly. You moan around Treys dick causing him to moan.

“Does that feel good pretty girl?” Matt says leaning down again to say it right in your ear. You moan around Treys cock. “Taking us so well baby.” Trey says while bucking up into your face slightly. “Were you thinking bout us on your date?” Matt asks. You moan and shake your head as best you could with Treys cock still in your mouth. “Couldn’t even get through a dinner date without thinking about us huh?” Trey says. “He couldn’t make you feel this good, could he sweetheart?” Matt says in a sweet tone to you and picks up his pace to go faster. You moan again with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You like this don’t you?” Trey says. “Like being used by both of us.” You say “yes” even if it was muffled but you knew they heard it.

The dirty talk continued as well as they praised you for “doing so well” and “being so pretty”. You could feel they were getting close as you could feel Matt twitch and Trey’s legs starting to shake from trying not to cum.

“Cmon baby. You can do it. Come again” Matt says as he reaches down to rub your clit. Trey starts face fucking you at this point and starts telling you he’s about to cum. You moan around his cock which ends up making him cum. He pulls out and comes on the lower part of your face. Not long after you’re coming for the second time with Matt coming right behind you and fucking you through your orgasm.

Matt pulls out and if he still wasn’t hanging onto you, you would’ve gone limp and fallen face first into the sofa. Once everyone has caught their breath and one of them brought you a wet towel from your apartment somewhere, for you to clean up, you all sat there in comfortable silence.

“You think your date would’ve done a threesome?” Trey said trying to make a joke like he didn’t just fuck your skull while you got fucked from behind by his best friend. You laughed “No, probably not.” “Well who needs him when you have the two of us.” Matt says with that big toothed smile of his. “Yeah, who needs him.”

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So I kinda did go kinda crazy on this one and tried something different. This idea has been floating around for awhile so I decided to put this here.

Also this was based on a guy I had the misfortune of knowing but unfortunately I didn’t have two men to help me. I hope you enjoyed this anyway!

#trey parker x reader #matt stone x reader #matt stone x trey parker x reader

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real-fire-emblem-takes · 5 months ago

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As a Gangrel Enjoyer, every so often I find myself so conflicted with Fire Emblem Awakening where.

I know this was supposedly the last of the series, so they wanted to go out with a bang. And if it did well enough, they’d continue the series. Naturally they didn’t wanna take too many risks and had a lot of ideas they wanted to throw together. Awakening is far from a perfect game, but I still think it’s a fun ride.

Yet, I wish wish wish we could’ve gotten more out of Gangrel beyond the Paralogues (which I’ll be honest, not the best written. Probably the most poorly written parts imo). I feel like as a character he has so much potential to him beyond being just a dastardly mustache twirling villain.

There’s mentions about the conflicts between Plegia and Ylisse, with Chrom’s father launching an attack on his people. Awful of a petty bastard as he is, this war was sort of a revenge against what his father did and how Ylisse refuses to acknowledge it.

Then there’s his backstory about being a poor street rat who lost his mother (father most likely not in the picture) and how he climbed his way to being King. That raises so many interesting questions - both about his character and the politics of Plegia!

And for being the Mad King (I know he’s called the Dark King in the Japanese version but still), he’s not all that mad? Well maybe not mad in a crazy sense, certainly quite wrathful though. He’s got it all - he’s an snarky asshole, he’s a heartless bastard, he’s crude humored, he’s a pathetic self loathing mess once he’s knocked from his high horse.

And even if I think the writing for the Paralogues isn’t great, his is one of the better ones imo cuz it gives a bit more insight into Why he became the way he is. It doesn’t excuse any of his actions, but you can see just how easy it was for him to be corrupted by that power. Especially given the implications of his backstory, he had probably been craving that control and power for so long.

I’m sorry this is such a long post but he’s one of my favorite characters in the series. He’s arguably one of the most complex (and funniest) characters in Awakening, and it would’ve been a treat to see him get further development. Wouldn’t even have to get better or be recruitable (though I certainly wouldn’t say No to that!) I just want more of him, I want to see more of him as a character! And Plegia too, I’d love to see more of Plegia in a light that’s not purely evil (that’s a rant for a different day lol)

#fe #fire emblem #gangrel fire emblem #fe13 #fire emblem awakening #story takes

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mysteriouslybluepirate · 2 years ago

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OFMD S2 EP 4-5: Izzy Hands (from a S1 Izzy fan)

I'll admit. I teared up at the Izzy shit in ep 1-3. Not a full-blown cry. But close. I was stressed, and tired, and hurt more than anything. I only cried in my car driving home. It hit, but it was more prolonged.

Do you know what got me crying? Izzy opened that letter, revealing 'For The New Unicorn'. He looks up and smiles. I went from 0-100 dry eyes to crying in seconds. I had to rewatch it because HELL.

The entire episode, hell, debatably from (S1ep4) we see Izzy go through it. Socially isolated and losing his identity. Leading up to S2ep4. Drunk and sad and heartbroken. He tries his best to stay afloat without a lifejacket as his self crumbles around him. He doesn't care anymore. He thinks his life is over. He lashes out because there's no one there to help him.

BUT THEN THE LEG. He cried and I cried during both scenes.

BECAUSE HE IS CARED ABOUT AND HE CAN HEAL!

GOD, and the way that leads into EPISODE 5. Izzy slicked his hair back and regaining some of his own personal identity. Izzy genuinely bantering with Stede, and gently helping him to be a better Captain. The way he desperately asks Stede if Ed said anything else nice about him? Showing that. Yeah, he's not all the way there yet, but he's working on it. The training scene where Izzy just looks on in fascinated horror at Stede's skills? THE LITTE OKAY HANDSIGNAL AT THE END WHEN STEDE USED HIS GRUFF VOICE? He smiles, and jokes, and TRIES. Izzy is pissed, obviously, but he's getting there.

He is kind and caring, all WHILE STILL BEING A PRICK? Him being a total nerd during the curse monologue? Izzy mutters 'rude' and pointedly crosses his legs as Stede ruins the vibe. I laughed harder at Izzy sitting at that desk than I did at most of the jokes in the show. THAT'S MY FUCKING BASTARD!! I'm so happy I saw a character and have been rewarded by showing, yes. He is kind, and trying, but he needs to learn to let himself become new.

I fucking love him. I can tell from the teaser that Izzy is just going to grow closer with the crew (and with himself) and I can't wait. (Even if it means his imminent capture, whoops).

I do think they'll do something with Izzy/Lucius, at least a single happy (Izzy no longer holding himself back from wanting) consensual kiss or genuine discussion about life(post-wedding) to show their growth as characters because I had to pause with the cig and shark interaction. Jesus Christ. I didn't really ship it before, but they are so snarky and it's great.

I'm a bit sad as Izzy's current arc likely means he might not get the big 'fuck you' moment of anger to Ed that Lucius got. Mainly because Con would make me cry, but If Izzy is genuinely just shoving this shit down, ignoring the years that Ed ignored his existence, then...idk.

They purposefully gave Izzy and Ed no scenes and thank god we get a TINY break. Because Ed will try to patch things up, and I don't think it works like that with Izzy. He needs proof that Ed is trying. Add to that Ed ACTUALLY saying sorry to him, and not expecting Izzy to immediately accept it(my theory as to why Lucius pointed it out: Ed will ACTUALLY say sorry to Izzy and mean it. This will heal something for Izzy, and hell). I can't wait for Ed to come back and see him. See him for who he is, a silly prick who is loyal to a fault, who is loved.

This is likely the happiest two episodes we'll get, and fuck, I loved them both SO MUCH. After a rewatch I'll write about the crew. Ed/Stede is actually working for me as we watch them both learn, and Fuck, Lucius/Pete...my darlings.

NOW FOR THE TEASER:

THE IDEA OF SEEING CON IN DRAG AGAIN MAKES ME SO HAPPY! Especially what it means for Izzy. Izzy lets his hair down and has fun with Wee John as he explores what actually makes him happy. Hell, him opening up to being a bit of a masochist as a joke while tied up is...actually my favorite thing (while obvious, given his propensity to put Ed before him in all matters, Izzy casually mentioning 'I like to be roughed a bit up' in front of the crew is the type of openness about himself that I crave). Izzy "cocksuckers" Hands letting himself joke about SEX-GAY SEX(probably)- Kill me now.

(To clarify: I don't think he or Ed ever got off to the abuse, hell, we see Ed flinch away when Anne/Mary do it. That's not the face of someone who knows what that's like as the Sadist).

I just love the way Izzy has so obviously relaxed into a person that he'd never let exist. Hell. I hope Izzy gets to rub this happier version of himself RIGHT in Edward's sad face. I need a 'he was never like this with me' moment of Ed watching Izzy SMILE to parallel Izzy's jealousy in S1.

Con obviously loves this character, you can see it in the performance. He fills the role perfectly, from his ups to his downs. Con smiles and hell, that's not Con, that's Izzy fucking Hands. Striding along proudly pretending his world isn't changing, because it is, and he is healing and I LOVE IT.

I am so proud of our growing Izzy loving community. For some, we've been through a lot of shit. Probably in life, and hell, maybe even in this fandom. Even if you haven't been harassed, you loved Izzy, you saw yourself in him, and I hope you felt the show giving us a big fucking hug.

We grow, we recover, and hell. We get a happy fucking ending (with a few yet-to-be-seen bumps in the road).

#izzy hands #if someone can do a meta breaking down how Izzy's drunk words to the Unicorn equate to his journey I'll be thankful #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 ep 4 #ofmd s2 ep 5 #con o'neill #ofmd s2 spoilers #Our Rare Unicorn

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imtooautisticforthisshit · 7 months ago

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Turning this into a fic rec blog one at a time I guess. So in honor of my poor, poor bestfriend

HERESSSSSS

Smash Cut! Which is a fic I can't shut the fuck up about, even if I tried, which I haven't, but I know I couldn't all the same.

I think I read this for first time back in like July???? I'd gotten drawn into Haikyuu by osmosis and stayed because of SakuAtsu.

I'm trying to be concise and coherent so let's see how this goes. It's major (non spoiler-y perks are!)

- Beautiful use of the ensemble cast. I'd gotten (carefully) through a few fics of this ship before but this one takes the most wonderful advantage of like a congelemeration of Nekoma and Karasuno that I've ever fucking seen.

-Found Familyed too close to the sun and burned me alive, I am but a husk of a man now.

-Women. Being. Awesome. Tanaka Saeko I will always love you.

-Slowburn so the waiting and the waiting and the waiting is there but then entire way this fic deals with emotion is some of the most real and raw and beautiful ways I've ever seen it done. Tsukki and Kuroo are both difficult characters (not the most difficult but they are) and I think the was the author puppets them is just amazing and wonderful, and a masterclass on just what fanfiction can be here to do.

-Kenma! Is! So!Fun!In!This!!! He's like spicy??? Like cat spicy??? Dude has bite and I'm here for I fucking love it when like canonically anxious, fandom uwu-ified characters, are just short snarky adults in fic sufjfhfkfb

-So many references!!!! But not too many like this isn't that one JJK fic that felt like an ad drawn out of a writing class talking about name-noun specificity, but it is witty! And there's an X-file reference in here that I had to Google to get which I'm still ashamed of because it was really funny!

-I cried, I'm not an angst crier but I will fucking burst into happy years and I know I kind of said this before but the way this author can wrangle Tsukishima and Kurooo through sincerity is beautiful enough to fucking cry over ajskdndnc

-if you don't know the author feeling out whether they're an atsumu lover or hater JUST from this fic can be really fun because (yeah we sound the same as the haters we really do, it just two different tones of stinky bastard man).

I call this fic by name to relatives and friends and they have no fucking idea what I'm saying but I am too in love with this story after MONTHS - I read it in a handful of hours and it immediately settled in along Preacher's Daughter as something I would love for years, I have not stopped thinking about it since, I don't think I ever fucking will. This is ephemeral, it was life changing, a piece of me was left in it's word count and I got one of the most amazing experiences or my life and a new part of myself in return

Just

Thank you existing Smashcut, I owe @/tacoloser on a03 my life and first born child for bringing this fic into existence and I will never be the same

#haikyuu #fic rec #fic reccomendations #kurotsuki #kurokei #I would die for this piece of literature #i would write a 52 page literary analysis paper on it #A's disgusting sincere fic recs

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some-pers0n · 1 year ago

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16?

16 - Can't understand why so many people like this thing (headcanon, trope, characterization, etc)

What joy and whimsy is there in the Nazi Medic headcanon. I'm being serious. I don't think there's a single interpretation of a character I despise more than that one. Not even when he's like stubborn and a mean workaholic and doesn't have that charming vibe to him, though that often comes packaged in. I genuinely do not understand how anybody would like that one.

It genuinely baffles me so much how a person could look at that and think it's anything interesting or remotely fun to indulge or write in. What the hell. Why. Like I get Reddit likes it since their exposure to TF2 is mainly though the game and. well. being a Redditor doesn't help either. Yeah Tumblr likes the whole "Medic is a flirty and cheeky guy" characterization (that I also don't care for but whatever) but I have seen the odd Ao3 fic with him as that. Not even as a WWII Red Oktoberfest AU where they're on opposing sides like Medic was straight up a Nazi and is just an asshole all around.

Why. Why. I get him being a bastard is a good part of his character but he is a Funny bastard! He's charming and goofy and light-hearted despite his occasional snarkiness. That's what makes him fun! Biting at the bars of my enclosure I swear to god maybe like twelve people in this fandom know how to write him.

I don't get it. I don't get it at all. What fun is there to be had in that. I like indulging in the goofy and whimsical nature of TF2. I like playing along and mimicking its style of writing and jokes since I admire it and think it's great and it makes my fics feel more in-line with canon. I get people love their melodrama and hot sexy dominating possessive guys in a uniform, but for god's sake it's just bad. It's boring and uninspired as well as just generally people incredibly distasteful. You have the entire wacky world of TF2 to work with and yet people still take the lamest option possible. Eughghhghgh,...

Not to also mention the slight Jewish coding in Medic's character. He is Jewish to me and you can tear that away from my cold, dead hands. That makes him somewhat interesting. I like me subversions.

#sp-rambles #ask #paroxysmaljune

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blackkatmagic · 2 years ago

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:3c Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Cher how dare you make me say nice things

Since I already did this once, I'll use different fics this time. So...

1 - efface the footprints in the sands

This fic is one of the ones where I really had a firm idea of where I wanted to go right from the start, and following that all the way through let me really play around with foreshadowing and character arcs in a more concrete way than a lot of my fics. Agen's growth and slow understanding, and the shared theme between him and Anakin that violence isn't a good way to solve things, is one of the arcs I'm most satisfied with having written. (And it's complete, what a miracle asjfskjs.)

2 - on the other side of time

I think the concept of this one is the most fascinating, personally, even though I haven't gotten far enough to explore much of it yet. The idea that a time-travel fix-it that depends super heavily on the understanding of one or two characters isn't actually a fix-it for everyone, and that time, when twisted out of its set path, leaves grooves like a dry riverbed, things that exist even if they're left empty, is such a fascinating idea to me, and exploring that is incredibly fun. Particularly through the eyes of Savage, who was done so fucking dirty in canon.

3 - Time in the hourless houses

Kind of similar to the last one, I love the concept of the Force as something that isn't quite conscious in the way most of humanity thinks of consciousness, but is still alive, and it has a plan even if no one else understands what that plan is. Also, I love prophecies as like...that one quote from The Old Kingdom books: "Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?" It makes for such an interesting exploration of choice. And Xanatos is just a vicious, snarky bastard, which makes him a lot of fun to write.

4 - to the stars/to the day/to the sun

I enjoy weird writing styles, particularly when I'm the one doing them, and writing Maul when he's mildly mad is highly enjoyable. Like, he makes sense to himself, and keeping that thread even when he's sounding mad to everyone else is such an interesting challenge. It's also fun to like....imply the depth to Feemor's story without ever dipping into his POV. It's like writing his motivations into the negative space of Maul's perception of things, and what they aren't saying.

5 - Arcana

This is probably my least popular/least read long fic ever, but I honestly adore it. Dark romance is a thing I read a fair amount of, and I always love a good exploration of villains, and there's a lot that's cathartic about the clones getting to be the agents of their own destiny even when other characters (like Palpatine) least expect it. Also Fox just. deserves to be emperor of his own city-state. I think that's just fact.

#fic rec #self rec #kat answers

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frommybookbook · 1 year ago

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#1: Farewell, My Lovely (1975)

OK, here we go, the winner! Farewell, My Lovely is my favorite adaptation and Robert Mitchum is my favorite Marlowe, hands down.

They decided to keep the story a period piece and I think that’s always going to work best for adapting these novels. Chandler’s writing is good enough that it’s timeless and obviously can be modernized successfully, but there’s something about the way a period piece can tap into the melancholy of these stories through nostalgia and the malaise of the past that just works a little bit better. And because this was made post-Hays Code, they could keep some of the raw violence and sex that the early adaptations couldn’t. It's a win-win, in my opinion.

It’s said that Mitchum always wanted to play Marlowe and I can see why: the man was made for this role. I’m a Mitchum fan girl in general and he’s perfect in this movie. He’s got reluctant hope oozing out of his ears, he’s weary, he’s weathered, he’s a good investigator, and just the right amount of womanizing bastard. At 58, he’s a little old to be playing Marlowe but that just adds to the tiredness he carries (his speech where he tells Nulty how tired he is makes me weep). His age also helps in that he lived through the time period of the movie, he was a young man in the 1930s, he knew this version of LA and this world of corruption and vice and he brought that to the role.

And the supporting cast is great, too. Charlotte Rampling as Helen Grayle is incredible and Jack O’Halloran is the perfect Moose Malloy. I love John Ireland as Detective Nulty, too. Like Mitchum he really has the weariness and trampled nature down.

Overall movie score: 5/5, it's just perfect, it's a careful and intentional homage to both the source novel and film noir without being a pastiche of either

Marlowe score: 4.5/5, Mitchum is nearly perfect as Marlowe, in my opinion, he's charming and world-weary and a bit snarky; the only points I'm docking are for his age but still, a young Robert Mitchum is who I picture in my head when I read these books

Perry Mason score: 2/5, it has two actors (Jack O’Halloran and John Ireland) who were in two separate TV movies

And that's a wrap! I've now reviewed and ranked all the Philip Marlowe movies (until they try to make another one, which, just, don't). I've had so much fun doing this series and thank you so much if you've stuck it out for 9 of these!

For a reminder of why I started this series and how I’m rating these movies, you can check out my master Marlowe post and follow the tag #Marlowe movies.

#marlowe movies #philip marlowe #farewell my lovely #robert mitchum #this movie is just so good #i should re-watch it soon #i know he's a problematic fav but i just love mitch so much

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mmriesoftvat · 1 year ago

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For Wanderer!

What’s a fail-safe gift for your muse?

What’s something your muse has done, in canon or in a thread, that just makes you Love ThemTM?

How important are apologies, to your muse? Do they have to be aloud?

What's a fail-safe gift for Kaminari?

THE SAFEST gift to give to kaminari is a good old fashioned book. he's very into reading, and even has his own mini library in wherever his home is. personally i like to think he carved out a space for himself in the sanctuary with nahida, but that's beside the point. kami enjoys reading a ton. it doesn't matter the book or genre, he'll probably read it if it sounds interesting enough. and for an immortal, he has nothing but time, so he'll basically read anything! it's fun and relaxing for him. so a gift of a book will genuinely make him happy.

What’s something Kaminari has done, in canon or in a thread, that just makes you Love Them™?

i REALLY got my feel for writing him when i bantered with @erabundus! (avalon is now on an astarion blog and i adore the hell out of them forever!!) avalon and i would have dash crack that turned into crack threads, that turned into serious roleplay where we developed an entire verse and had so many feels for each other's wanderers. it was so much fun to develop kaminari even more through that and develop my own voice for him. avalon and i even had similar headcanons, and yet still so different from each other.

i can't pinpoint anything specific from there, but i know i just adore the hell out of kami and he's been the gremlin in my head for a long, long time. personally i feel like he's ALWAYS loveable, but as his creator and writer, i think i might be a bit biased. he's a snarky, insecure bastard who has one braincell about half the time, the rest of the time he's head empty.

How important are apologies, to Kaminari? Do they have to be aloud?

useless. kaminari doesn't like words if they're not followed up with actions. he's been burned and tossed aside way too many times to count on both hands, so words to him mean absolutely nothing. if someone shows they're sorry and actually puts effort into it, he'll probably swallow his pride and hurt and let himself be receptive to said actions. it's too easy for someone to spit words out and use flowery language to try and win him over, but he's a very straightforward person. he's not won over with poetry or pretty words, he needs to see a genuine action that shows intent. otherwise, he's pretty much done. he doesn't have time to waste on false promises and no actual change.

#( ANSWERED. )#( MEME RESPONSE. )#aetherealwish #( KAMINARI | HEADCANONS. )#thank you so much!

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megamanrecut · 2 years ago

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I was rereading season 1, which has been very fun, lots of details that stand out more with more context, but there's this one bit with Proto man that shows up more than once that's interesting.

In the first episode, Proto man tells Mega man that "Doc never got around to naming [him]... Too busy with his other inventions." Which is followed up a little during the Mega Pinocchio episode, with Proto man saying he's always been Proto (although not actually saying Dr. Light named him that, which turns out to be true), and when Mega man comments on that sounding a little cold, comments that Dr. Light is "Oblivious to details... I like Proto. It's better than Paaasd or something" (which lol)

Now that I've read the season 0 episode, it caught my eye that the name thing doesn't really get talked about there! Proto names himself very quickly, with no thought or fanfare behind it. Very fitting, but paired with the season 1 lines, I'm trying to puzzle out the incongruity of it (Proto you lying bastard why can't you be easier to understand!!!)

On one hand, if the subtle but present implication that Proto might feel bitter about his name is a retcon, it's one that I wouldn't have spotted if I hadn't reread season 0 recently. It's also just as likely that I'm reading into a set of lines that were just meant to be snarky, he definitely does that a lot too lol.

But I am curious if there's some level of truth to that sort of bitter undertone that I thought was implied! Proto man is a difficult character to understand, especially in season 1, and in general when trying to understand his feelings towards Dr. Light. Their relationship is so interesting to me, so sorry if I really did just read way too deep into it haha!

There was a slight perhaps retcon! (sorry this took awhile, limited internet access atm, also this is long/rambly lol)

I wrote season 0 waaay after season 1 (between Master of Disaster Part 2 and 3 to be exact) and in original s0 drafts, the naming thing didn’t happen as early, but when I finally began editing it that seemed unnecessarily weird/creepy for Dr. Light. So, instead the name thing came up on Proto’s activation day. Some of the emphasis around Proto’s name in S1 (particularly E1) was for dramatic irony.

So for character analysis:

Outside of that, still same deal with Dr. Light/Proto, just more focused on char divisions over specific, resolvable drama. The whole dynamic between Dr. Light and Proto has always been strained at best to total estrangement at its core, and sometimes painful to write. Dr. Light was never really in the wrong, Proto just developed into his own person that wanted nothing to do with ‘domestic human life’ or to have any type of authority figure. Its a huge philosophical difference, but its also a son who feels smothered and hopeless rejecting his loving father who tried his best to understand but could never make it work in time. That dynamic still exists, unsolved, in the good!Proto AUs (Master of Disaster Part 3, Become the Night)

Still, Proto isn’t really bitter by Dr. Light’s actions per se, he was just bitter about living under his roof where he was bored and under stimulated. Even Mega was surprised by this at first. In Mega-Pinocchio he was expecting a specific drama lead to Proto’s defection then was surprised when Proto also denied that Dr. Light really did anything wrong, and even reassured the naming thing didn’t bother him (I had already written the ‘naming’ scene in season 0, which remained unchanged, just happened earlier) It wasn’t until Future Shock when he began understanding Proto a little.

Either way tho, Proto wasn’t really bitter about his name (at least there was never intended bitter subtext there, but can be interpreted however!) I think in a way even if Dr. Light *had* given him a name (like Blues?) he would have been quick to drop that when he became Proto Man (kinda like how he thinks ‘Break Man’ is cringy in Become the Night or how Elec Man calling him ‘Light’ drives him nuts). He doesn’t really like the connection, and would prefer to have no name or a generic one over one picked for him by Dr. Light.

#questiom time #proto man #mega man #Dr. Light #season 0 #season 1 #season 2 #recut au #the beginning #mega pinocchio #future shock #master of disaster #become the night

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seasons-of-ceres · 5 years ago

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Hello! Hope your having a wonderful day! May I request nonbinary s/o coming out to Revali?qvq👉👈

Link and Yin go bathing together every time the opportunity arises. It is a peculiar arrangement on two fronts – the first being Revali’s complex rivalry with Link and his complex relationship with Yin. All three parties are aware of this tenuous triangle of complexities, and each deal with it in turns being silence (Link), mild frustration (Revali), and the most patience (Yin) that anyone could muster.

Revali was loud about it in the beginning, and in several senses. Obvious and persistent glares, confrontational body language, and then opening his mouth to tell Link off or else offer his own company. Link didn’t care, a bath is a bath (and this is the same Hylian who eats rocks and other dubiously cooked “food” in a pinch), he can do it on his own or with friends because, hey, washing one’s back can be difficult. Yin, patience incarnate, would brush off such comments, smile warmly, promise cuddles afterwards. And for a while, this worked.

As Zelda continues to have trouble awakening her powers, there is a subtle thread of tension winding around the group. It reveals itself in different ways; a stronger sternness from Urbosa, Daruk cracking jokes at uncomfortable times, a nervous quietness in Mipha, and in Revali, well…

“Is my presence offending you?”

Yin stills, pausing with needle in hand, trying to mend one of Link’s tunics.

“Because in such rare moments of intimacy afforded to us, you would prefer sharing them with Link, gift to all of Hyrule, may he save us all.”

A roll of the eyes and Yin drops the needle and tunic into the grass, idly watching Mipha take up the task. Revali huffs and flaps his arms impatiently, not even the cold cut of the wind through his feathers calms him, not as much as his partner’s touch. Yin rises from ground and takes a breath, patting loose dirt from the creases of their pants, and offers a tranquil smile. Revali narrows his eyes.

“If memory serves,” Yin says coyly, “there are far more intimate moments at night. Which I share exclusively with you.”

Revali scoffs. “Trying to embarrass me?”

“Not working, is it?”

“Hardly, dearest. A word in private?”

Yin shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt.”

A short walk away from camp and within view of Urbosa on night watch, Revali folds his arms over his chest as Yin leans up against a moderately tall rock. The Rito’s next words come carefully, presumably after several nights where he was not invited to bathe, and after consideration of his own upbringing.

Rito are birds. Large, intelligent, but ultimately birds. Bright colours and plumage are typical indicators of gender expression and sex. He does remember outliers, his brother Tori comes to mind—bright yellow and green feathers, a lighter musical voice—and when he insisted on being referred to as Revali’s younger brother, change of pronouns included, Mother and Father did so. Revali was also in that boat, although as a child he did find himself falling back on teasing ‘his younger sister’, ‘Mother’s silly girl’, “Father’s little chick’. Tori’s older now, the yellow of his feathers has matured into a fine golden wheat colour, and the green has mellowed and darkened like the needles of an evergreen. His younger brother. Mother’s silly boy. Father’s little hawk.

“Is there something you are ashamed of?”

Yin says nothing, the warm smile wobbles slightly.

“Is there something integral about you that I don’t know?”

Yin’s hands, braced over the rock, clench ever so slightly.

“Because when I begin this courtship, I like to think I made it clear I wanted all of you. Even parts I don’t see, won’t see…”

“Revali, I… it’s not… I didn’t want to hide anything.”

Revali bites his tongue from responding too cheekily, and nods slowly. Yin huffs and crosses their arms over their chest.

“I don’t really know how to tell you, but I’m not a boy. And I’m not a girl either. I’m something else.”

“And you got it in your thick, Hylian skull that I would be averse to this confession?” Revali chuckles. “Oh, you sweet little fool.”

“Don’t tease. Not everyone responds like you.”

“No one is like me.” Revali puffs out his chest. “Still.”

Yin lifts a hand, sensing the trajectory of the conversation. “Link gets it. He doesn’t… Well, actually, I don’t think he cares who he is unless it affects his duty. But we talk. About stuff. Stuff I don’t think you’d understand.”

Revali hums, looking off to the side while coming to lean against the rock as well, not touching yet but hovering slightly. Yin shuts their eyes with a grimace, leaning into Revali’s body as some of the tension bleeds out of them.

“Sorry I made you feel unwanted.” They mutter. “I just haven’t had too many great experiences telling people, much less a partner.”

“My wounded pride will no doubt recover in time.” Revali sighs. “But you’ve nothing to apologize for, Yin. I happen to give off a very distinct impression and it isn’t a very empathetic one—don’t argue, you’ve said it yourself how much of an ass I am.”

“I don’t say it to be mean.”

“I know.” He chuckles a little. “But you can come to me with anything. You could be harbouring a fragment of malice and I’d love you still. Never doubt that.”

He folds his arm around their shoulders, a secretive smile blooming on his face when Yin burrows into him, soft face pressing into his feathers. He follows the line of mountains in the distance, the wisps of cold night air ruffle his feathers.

“I should introduce you to my brother.” Revali says. “He’d like you, birds of a feather flock well together, and all that. He should be returning to Rito Village soon, and our party is heading in that direction…”

“Your brother, huh?”

“I confess a tiny concern you’ll find him better company.”

“No concern there, Blue. You have me for life.”

Revali touches his other hand against his chest, a mock expression of surprise on his handsome face. “Truly? How lucky am I.”

“Oh, stop. I love you. Really.”

“And I love you more.”

“And I love you most.”

#Hex Writes #formatting is everywhere and I barely proofread #this snarky bastard is still fun to write #also nonbinary link #hope this works #it happened and it made me happy #hope it makes you happen #blah blah blah #I'm a little tired #revali #loz #botw

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ech0schamber · 2 years ago

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Hello, I read your post on Dazai and Ranpo if their s/o fell into a coma for a year. I was wondering if I could request Dazai and Ranpo running into the person who caused their s/o to fall into a coma, how would those two react and what would they do?

I hope your doing well, feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this. ♡

I am doing well, thank you! <3 and honestly, i was hoping someone would request this as i didn't want to make the other post too long :,]

☆after months of physical therapy, you were finally able to walk without mobility aids! to congratulate you and to make up for lost time, dazai took you out on a date!

☆honestly, this date mainly consisted of walking around Yokohama and going to all your favorite stories. he'd never tell you, but while you were in a coma he saved up a shit ton of money to spoil you when you woke up

☆all was going great until you ran into the bastard that sent you into a coma

☆you, somehow, remembered what they looked like, and it made you panic. what if they wanted to finish the job? what if they had been stalking you?

☆dazai noticed that you were starting to panic very quickly, he's become way more observant of you theses past few months. he pulled you into a quiet alley way to help you stabilize your breathing and got you to explain what had happen

☆oooh man, if he didn't have a rule about no killing since he joined the agency, this man probably would've killed them on the spot

☆he asked you to point out who it was, and quickly got you out of there. you can always come back later, and he really didn't want to break the rule he has followed for over 3 years now (taking into consideration that you were in a coma for a year)

☆the two of you continued your day as if it never happened. you two had a nice dinner, then a long cuddle session :]

☆once he knew that you were completely asleep, he'd sneak out of the bedroom and call chuuya

☆chuuya didn't have a no kill rule, and surprisingly will listen to dazai about shit like this

☆let's just say that the person was taken care of the next day and you'd never run into him again

☆same thing as dazai, you had finally 'finished' your physical therapy and the two of you wanted to celebrate that! even though it was mainly ranpo dragging you to different candy stores, while going to the stores you wanted to go to in between, you still had fun

☆i mean, who wouldn't have fun hanging out with ranpo all day?

☆you had been listening to ranpo talk about poe's newest novel when you spotted the person who sent you into a coma

☆ranpo immediately noticed that something was wrong, and of course, figured out what was going on really quickly

☆before you could stop him, he walked right up to this person! you were just staring at him like he was fucking insane

☆he started by bluntly asking if that person had caused the incident, and of course it was a snarky bastard who'd love to boast about what they had done

☆ranpo had let this person keep speaking for a minute before he interrupted them and started talking down to this person. like, we've seen him talk down to someone before, but he took it even further than we're all used to seeing

☆he started to absolutely berating and insulting this person, and probably their full blood line as well. and ohhh boy, he did not hold back. we saw how quickly he figured out fukuzawa, just imagine the type of shit he could figure out about this person

☆but it was starting to cause a scene, so after letting ranpo have his fun for a while, you had to drag him away

☆while he wasn't going to apologize for causing a scene like that, he did take you to your favorite restaurant and had a very long cuddle session once the two of you got home

------

i would love to see ranpo roasting the shit out of someone

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years ago

Text

🔹masterlist🔹

dazed & confused

wanted a woman, never bargained for you // lotsa people talking, few of them know // soul of a woman was created below (i like it)

sorry this took so long, i got horny multiple times while writing this & had to seek jesus (couldn't find him)

most smut fics are love letters, this? this is hate mail. to stephen strange, specifically. consider this my honest attempt at enemies to lovers. pushing my three favourite agendas: doctor stephen strange, pasta and led zeppelin.

spotify link to the recommended record to play.

warnings: enemies to lovers, trust issues, overthinking/insecure!reader, 18+: face-sitting/riding, dirty talk, stephen's whore mouth, pet names, hitting it from the back sorcerer style, some light bondage, creampie, just filth, okay? softdom!stephen that knows you can be a good girl if you put a little effort into it. brat taming, maybe? word count 8.5k

"Open up. Open wide," Stephen's stern voice instructed, rolling over you in a wave of exasperation.

You hummed to convey your indignation but relented, parting your lips until the bones of your jaw creaked and the muscles in your cheeks grew taut. Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, tickling it, as you concentrated on not swallowing. Some of it spilled into the corners of your mouth; any other time, you would be mortified as droplets of it slid down your cheek, with Dr. Strange so close to your face that subtle whiffs of his cologne were beginning to reach your nose.

It twitched. So did Stephen's lips.

You could sense the snarky remark bubbling up to the surface of his throat before he even made a sound.

"Be. Still."

I AM TRYING! You attempted to convey, humming angrily and rolling your eyes.

Stephen kept eyeing the runes burnt into the sides of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth all the while his hands kept up a rapid pace, their glow casting a theatre of shadows on his angular face. His cheekbones popped. The treacherous, red curve of his mouth was tense, chapped lips pursed, silver hairs gleaming in his beard that adorns his Cupid's bow.

As your eyes adapted focus, you noticed the large amount of discoloration. It was like Stephen glittered in the golden shine of his spellwork; as it exploded into trillions of little sparks, they set his entire face alight. Like the sun itself had split into opaque gemstones to adorn him.

You forced your eyes to focus on a crack in the ceiling, letting your breath slowly, shakily exit through your nose.

Stephen Strange was a beautiful bastard.

You've told him so - patronisingly, of course, as part of the frequent verbal stand-offs you two had. It was a tale as old as the world: he'd play the superior card, you'd quietly roll your eyes and continue to do your thing - Stephen would annoy you until you were forced to acknowledge him; you, being no blushing maiden, spared him not from the sharpness of your tongue and your wit.

Still, you were glad he wasn't reckless enough for his ego to get in the way of saving people's lives. Most of the time, at least. If you were forced to pair up, there was a reasonable truce until the immediate threat was removed from this universe. The banter during clean-up, you could deal with. It was fun sometimes, even, Stephen's short fuse making him an easy target to unload some pent up frustration onto.

Worstie, a word of the slang variety, snuck into your head as you contemplated the sickly-beige paint on the ceiling. A quick amused chuff escaped you, causing Stephen's focused face to turn down.

"Are you seriously laughing right now? Most of your mucosa is covered in second degree burns."

It was the accusative amusement that had you reeling, internally of course. You briefly set your eyes back on his, making sure he knew your spirits remained as high as ever.

Strange offered a noise of his own. The corners of his mouth upturned again.

"You know, I find you more agreeable this way. Finally, some peace and quiet around here," he remarked conversationally, placing a large, cool, glowing palm over you throat that immediately soothed any lingering discomfort from the enemy's spell. "You could even pass as cute when you're not talking." Evidently, he was enjoying your temporary shift in dynamics.

Temporary, it's only temporary, you told yourself, keeping your breathing even as Stephen obviously tried to make his best of the situation and get a rise out of you. The realization of him being able to win, proverbially speaking, only when you were incapacitated, filled you with no small joy.

"... but that's the good news," he picked up. "The bad news is that I can fix this, but it is going to hurt. A lot."

"Zo it," you rasped, feeling your mucous membranes crack and bleed simply from uttering two garbled syllables.

The sorcerer's pointed look lingered on your face, uncomfortably close and soundlessly loud. His fingers twitched along your jawline.

"Alright," he nodded, to himself, and withdrew to perform a set of complicated hand gestures over your prone form.

It burned, worse than the wretched curse itself. The skin was peeling off you, quite literally this time, taking the runic markings with it, cleansing your vessel with fresh blood. The urge to gag was overwhelming as iron and copper flooded your mouth, dribbling crimson down the corners of your mouth. Your hands clutched at the sides of the chair until your knuckles lost all color; round, fat teardrops slid down your cheeks as your chest heaved.

Stephen observed you with a clinical eye, blinking rapidly as the spell lit up for the final time before dissolving in on itself and taking most of the pain with it. You could breathe again, even if the cool air in the room felt like ice directly over the burns. Sharp and stinging.

"Fanks," you rasped, testing out your vocal capabilities and pain levels, both of which you found bearable.

"Alas, peace never lasts long," the corners of Stephen's mouth returned to their usual, condescending position.

His hands found their frivolous way back to your face, holding it in place as sharp eyes examined the tender inside of your mouth. A long, slender finger reached out for the corner of your eye, wiping a stray tear away from your fluttering lashes, followed by his thumb diligently flicking off the blood at the crest of your lips.

If you wouldn't know any better, you'd think the touch was caring. Tender, even, as the sorcerer's oh so earnest stormy blues traced the fine lines of your face. But you did - know better. It was humiliating, being treated for your boo-boos like a moody child.

You closed your mouth, hands immediately flying to massage the sore, tense muscles of your jaw.

Stephen withdrew his fingers rapidly, clasping them over his stomach.

"Wong took care of the stragglers?" You murmured, carefully enunciating your words. Chit-chatting was going to be out of the question for the next couple of days.

"As always," Stephen's reply was curt, his eyes cast on the wall.

"I guess I'll go sleep it off then," you conceded, spying the clock, its arms showing a little past midnight. Why couldn't the bad guys pick a better time of the day to execute their nefarious, stupid plans?

"That would be best," the sorcerer shuffled in place before clearing his throat. "Doctor's orders."

The tongue-in-cheek remark had you obstinately emit a scratchy laugh. Insufferable, as always, no stress or tragedy could put this man out of his saucy commentary.

You voiced your thoughts on the topic. "Cheeky bastard!"

With a shake of your head, you conjured up a portal directly to your bedroom, stepping into it and lifting up an arm to say goodbye as it closed up behind you, totally missing the long, tired sigh coming from the tall man.

Your apartment greeted you cold; a beeline for the shower and clothes thrown carelessly onto the ground, the smell of French vanilla and sandalwood from your favourite candles - their flames danced, casting moving shadows over the walls. As you paused to remove the last layers of sweat-soaked fabric, the angular obscurities caught your eye, freezing you in your tracks.

Some sorcerers found shadows jarring - it was the reason for the Sanctum's skyrocketing electricity bills - the moving, dancing spots reminded the dimension wanderers of places better left unseen. And you jumped, too, at first, but then a brief memory crossed your mind.

Stephen's sharp features. The way that light, any light, drew immediate attention to his sculpted bone structure and straight, regal nose. When he had leaned over you, as close to share a breath, you traced the smile lines on his skin, the odd scar over his lip. He was sharp, as in mind, so in body. Even the hair he so meticulously styled (must've taken all morning) was divaricate in it's curve.

Under the hot, soothing spray of water, in the privacy of your shower, you allowed yourself to entertain thoughts that usually were kept at bay. Images of Stephen shirtless, dripping with the blood of your shared enemies; chest heaving and strong, defined muscles of his back tense. The way clear sweat rolled down the groves along his spine just to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants that slouched low on his hips.

"Fuck," you muttered, sticking your flaming face right beneath the spray. The droplets bounced off it as you held your breath.

An arduous pull, deep and low in your belly, the kind that rode on the tailwind of an adrenaline rush, had quickly blossomed into a heaviness that sat like a two-tonne blunder, immovable and annoying. Only pure spite and the rumbling of your stomach gave you the willpower to push the knob, turn the water off and throw on some sweatpants to depart for your kitchen.

Briefly flicking through a take-out app, you abandoned the idea of ordering food at this ungodly hour, deciding to throw together some ingredients for a quick and delicious pasta.

Thoughts of Stephen still lingered on your mind, stubborn as the man himself. You didn't want to give into the feelings, completely unwilling to admit the man had somehow found a way under your skin. He still had regular coffee dates with his ex, for fuck's sake! You deserved better than someone's leftovers.

As you felt yourself begin to think in circles, your hands groped for your phone again, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker and turning it up to highest acceptable volume in the dead of the night. Sultry guitar, intermingled with god-tier vocals, was exactly what you needed to silence your inner turmoil.

Hand busy with cutting and chopping, your legs swayed your tired body to the rhythm as it partook in the mindless task.

One song blended into another as your peace was suddenly disturbed by the sound of your doorbell ringing. Startled, you waited for the shrill noise to repeat itself; it did, more insistent the second time.

Ashamed, you turned down the music somewhat, hastily rushing to the door with a polite smile glued to your face and apologies ready to go. As quietly as you could, you cracked the door open.

"Hi," Stephen was leaning on the wall next to your door, forearm raised. "Took you a while."

"Don't tell me there's another emergency," the smile slid off your face to be replaced by surprise at the choice of his attire.

The ever-present Cloak of Levitation was draped over a baby blue hoodie with a Columbia logo on it. Stephen's sweatpants looked soft and worn and the brand name tennis shoes screamed "upper class middle-aged man". You've seen him in jeans in cardigans, sure, but like this? He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Sort of," he looked over your shoulder, eyes darting over the items in your apartment. "Wong forgot to renew protective wards. The Sanctum is snowed in. I've got some apprentices rounding up the penguins as we speak," at least he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Penguins?" You wondered, lips twitching at the funny way he was saying that word. "And what does that have to do with me? I'm on sick leave," your eyebrow rose.

"I thought I could bum on your couch?"

No please, no thank you. Both of your eyebrows now rose, appalled at his audacity. You contemplated telling him to book a hotel room, but hesitated, remembering the quick and efficient way he dealt with your wounds a few hours ago. With a sigh, you opened your door, leading him into your apartment.

"Leave your shoes in the corridor and lock the door," you walked back into the kitchen, eyeing the unfinished pasta. A quick survey of the items, you deduced it would be enough for both of you with some to spare. After all, you weren't raised in a barn.

Unlike some people.

Stephen ogled the various knick-knacks scattered around your kitchen and living room without reservation, coming up as far as to pick up and study every photo you had on display. To mask your annoyance, you turned the music back up, pointedly ignoring the creeping feeling of impending doom.

"Is that you as a baby?" Stephen could not hold back his curiosity anymore. He held up a framed photo of a grinning, chubby toddler.

"That's my cousin," your voice dripped with irritation. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to snoop?"

"It was on display," he retorted without missing a beat, but nonetheless put the frame down and approached you, eyeing the chopped onions with suspicion. "Should I worry about getting poisoned?"

"Yes," the deadpan response made him bark a laugh. "But I have one bathroom, so I'll save it for the morning."

"Who said I won't spend the day?" Stephen crossed his arms, staring you down from where he leaned against the counter. "Squatter's rights."

"My neighbours love death metal," the garlic plopped next to the onions and went into the pan, rich aroma immediately filling up the kitchen space. "Especially at eight in the morning. Teenagers, right?"

You could hear the smile creep into Stephen's voice even though his face didn't change one bit. A cherry tomato was quickly snatched from under your knife and plopped into his mouth without as much as a warning.

"Nothing wrong with death metal," his baritone dropped. "I prefer classic rock, but to each their own."

As you prepared to fire off a few choice words about his delinquent thieving tendencies, Stephen pointed at the Bluetooth speaker:

"Led Zeppelin, Dazed & Confused, playing live in Los Angeles in 1972. With bits and pieces of Walter’s Walk and The Crunge," he rattled off, looking, for once, exceedingly proud of himself.

"Huh," the knife froze in your hand as you processed the influx of information. Not knowing what to add, you settled for a flat, "good song. Now stop eating the ingredients."

Stephen laughed once more, no trace of the usual snark and condescension audible in his voice.

"Robert Plant was only 23 when this was recorded."

The water had come to a boil; you dumped the pasta in, stirring the sauce with your other hand. It smelled heavenly; you prayed the music was loud enough and Stephen couldn't hear the chorus of growls coming from your stomach.

"Nerd," you accused him, for a lack of better things to say.

His presence behind you was felt, not seen. With his larger frame inches away, you could smell his aftershave and the leftover crisp of snow he must've brought from the Sanctum. It made your shoulders tense: for the second time today, Stephen was so close, your body involuntary flooded with molten led, warmth spreading from all the small places where you two almost touched.

You felt your knuckles begin to creak with how tightly you had been holding onto the spatula; it took a criminal amount of care to place it on the side of the pan without causing a flurry of noise.

An arm wrapped itself around your waist, letting your back connect with Stephen's chest. The shock froze your limbs and you let yourself be swayed along to the music, electricity sparking up your spine, a slow current running through your heart, your stomach and your hips.

"Everybody's been talking and I swear they been talkin' trash..." Voice low and quiet, the singing coming from the man was more of a hum.

It was still enough for you to strain your hearing, for the rich baritone to add more fuel to the fire of sudden craving.

"The way you push me, I can't take too much of that," another hand, large and warm, took hold of your own that hung limply by your side, bringing it up.

C'mon, c'mon, show me the way! I want to make love to you, little girl, twenty-five hours a day!

You felt true to the song title: dazed by the sudden display of affection and confused by Stephen's unbothered, easygoing attitude. He shelved his vitriol the moment his working hours were over, it seemed. It put you on edge.

Somehow, you thought, that if you'd respond with your usual snark, he'd double down on this strange amicability. And you weren't sure you'd be able to take that. Had he finally realized that the best way to get under your skin would be to play nice? To be friendly right up until you let your guard down and strike right then and there?

"Do I really repulse you that much?" His words startled you out of your negative spiral.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself and at him.

"You infuriate me," honesty was better than an obvious lie in this case, you decided. Rationed honesty. You weren't about to tell him of the thoughts you entertained in your solitude.

Stephen let go of your waist but kept your hand in his. Without any effort, he spun you, once, slowly, for you to see a wicked smile plastered on his face.

"The feeling's mutual."

You stayed in position, looking up at his face for the longest moment. His neutral-positive expression had you walking a high wire over the abyss of his stormy blue eyes: if you allowed yourself to be distracted, you'd lose all sense of balance and fall, fall, fall...

The sauce was begging for attention at this point and you turned to tend to it, using the few moments of your face being hidden to realign yourself from the bastard's attempts to throw you off-kilter. Who knew it would be sudden tenderness to be the one to put sticks in your wheels? You had done a great job of keeping unnecessary crushes in check before he came along.

The silence became pregnant and you hated it.

"If I had the chance to time-travel, you best believe I wouldn't go kill baby Hitler and shit. I'd go and see these guys live, it would be by far more emotionally satisfying," you offered the first thing that popped into your mind, eager to aid the awkward moment.

"Isn't that right?" He sounded a little too jovial to be surprised. "A wise choice, considering you've studied the effects of time. Intervention in the flow of it would be unwise. You'd look great in flared pants."

"Nerd," you repeated yourself, this time without any heat, choosing to disregard the odd compliment. "Some things are just about enjoyment, for the kick of it. Without any second thoughts. Do you not have hobbies you enjoy?"

"Protecting your reality is a full-time job that demands an unfair amount of overtime," the sorcerer deadpanned, coming up and taking the pot of pasta to drain it without being asked.

"No wonder you enjoy making my life difficult if that's the only thing you do," your mumbling got lost in the sounds of pouring water. Or so you thought.

"And you don't?" As he set the pasta next to the saucpan, his expectant eyes turned to your face, scanning it with rapt attention.

A sigh, one of many when it came to him, left your mouth. You dumped the pasta directly into the sauce, giving it a good stir, before taking the pan off the heat and putting a lid on the food. Mimicking his defensive stance, you leaned against the opposite counter, crossing your arms.

"I'm not the one to yield."

Stephen advanced, trapping your body between it and himself by resting his palms on the counter and lowering himself to your eye-level, an annoying little smirk curving his mouth and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"As a matter of fact, there is something I enjoy," the sorcerer spoke, his breath fanned over your face, landing directly onto your lips.

Your tongue darted out in response, wetting them, as your mouth had suddenly gone dry and heartbeat rose upward in your chest, sitting uncomfortably close to your esophagus.

Seemingly unbothered, Stephen continued, "and that is you. The way you scrunch your nose when you're mad..." His eyes briefly slid down to it, "adorable."

You could only blink, mouth parted and chin lowered. The more you stayed quiet, the wider his smirk grew.

"Your idea of flirting is pelting someone with insults?" Not being one to back down so quickly, you voiced your bafflement.

"And yours isn't?"

No, you wanted to say, but that would have been a lie. Your standoffs, for that they were annoying, definitely had done the job and brought you two together. Closer than ever, in fact. Stephen was barely three inches away from you, lips inviting and face earnest. In his own way.

To back down right now would be to lose.

Eyes squeezed shut, you tasted the offered fruit of Stephen's lips by slotting your mouth over his, surpassing any attempt at finesse. Months of pent-up frustration and a sense of determination stronger than your fear of rejection pushed you to break your number one personal rule of not getting attached to things that could be bad to you.

And Stephen was bad. In the split second it took for your lips to connect, one of his hands flew up to cradle the side of your face, holding you in place as his mouth sinfully devoured yours. It seemed like he had gotten used to holding back, too, evidenced by the sheer hunger that twisted his tongue around yours in a dance of lust and longing.

Blood rushed to your head as the realization set in. Stephen had been pining, maybe even helplessly clutched at the tiles in the privacy of his shower, chasing the hunger pangs for your body with fleeting moments spent together, straining to see things he thought weren't there.

Those sinful images of his bare back flooded your head: skin like caramel, clear droplets sliding down the hills and valleys of strong muscle littered with freckles and moles; like melted sugar or molasses, you craved to collect every sweet drop with your mouth. A low moan rose from your throat, immediately absorbed into the kiss.

Stephen withdrew, panting and flushed, lips glistening with spit.

"Your mouth, does it hurt?"

Aside from the pounding in your temples and the inferno raging in your abdomen, you could feel absolutely nothing. He'd consumed you completely. Not trusting your mouth, you shook your head negative, blinking as it swam and black dots appeared in the field of your vision.

"Good," a curt nod and his hands were back on your hips, figure looming over you and piercing blue eyes staring you down with an expression of exasperated longing.

Before you got cold feet, you decided it best to take matters into your own hands. His stomach tensed under your palms as you placed them, pushing on his body until he took a step back. And then another, this time seasoned with a small noise of confusion.

"Bedroom's that way," you waved your head in the direction of the door, biting your lip at the eager way he immediately turned and, for the lack of a better word, towed you towards it.

Candlelight still danced in the twilight of your bedroom, the space warm and smelling divine. You reached for his hoodie, pulling it upward before the back of his knees hit the bed; blue fabric dropped at your feet the second Stephen landed on your mattress, hands flying up to your waist to steady himself. The simple white tee did nothing to hide his toned physique.

Your hands brushed the immaculately groomed beard, traversing his strong jawline before setting down at the juncture of his neck. You leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips, mesmerized by his face in the candlelight. Stephen was just like the sun, for staring at him for too long was dangerous.

"You beautiful bastard," you whispered against his lips, met with a resonating chuckle. Your fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's a new one," in retaliation, he bit down on your bottom lip, soothing the sting immediately afterwards by sucking the skin into his mouth and pulling you head-on into another passionate kiss.

Stephen abandoned the curve of your waist in favour of sliding his hands up, mapping the broad of your back and tracing his fingertips down the knobs of your spine. The t-shirt you wore did very little to shield your skin from the electric sparks that his touch brought to your skin. Rows and rows of goosebumps followed in it's wake.

You swore your brain short-circuited when he reached under your shirt. No amount of fantasy could have prepared you for the response of you body when Stephen traced the outline of your breasts, clever fingers immediately finding your nipples pebbled and standing at attention, begging for it as you were driven to push up and into his touch.

Lips migrated from your mouth to your neck.

"Someone's eager," the hot whisper tickled the shell of your ear before Stephen's teeth scratched the tender skin of your neck.

Defiantly, you pressed your knees further into his lap, coming to something unmistakably hard between his legs. The breath he was holding got stuck somewhere between his nose and his throat, erection twitching in his sweats.

"Yeah," your voice was scratchy, snark bleeding into a noise of approval as he squeezed one of your breasts, pinching the other's nipple just shy of painful.

Unclutching your hands from his shoulders was difficult, when you felt like you had to fight to remain in this plane of existence least your arousal shut down all your senses except for the ones needed to experience the torture of his touch. You could spend an eternity like this, in his arms, like a musical instrument in the hands of a prodigy, being expertly, effortlessly brought to a steady crescendo.

"Greedy, greedy girl," Stephen rasped as your hands slid down his chest, fingers and nails mercilessly raking down it and messing up his shirt. He used momentum to rid you of your own top, surfacing bleary-eyed and with toussled hair. "Gonna fuck all that attitude out of you. Isn't that what you need, huh?"

With an impish grin, he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, applying blissful suction.

Your hands roamed his chest, squeezed the tightly knit muscles of his shoulders almost vengefully. You caught his moan in your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet.

"I can name five better things for your mouth to do rather than talk smack." The impatience, the need you felt demanded a way out. You winced at how needy it made you sound.

Stephen scratched you nipple with his teeth, hiding a momentary grin between your breasts to surface flushed and smirking. His hands found your hips, pushing down your pants with ease, lifting your leg one after the other.

The moment his knuckles touched the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you shuffled in place - he was so close, almost at the apex, where moisture had left a wet spot on your underwear.

It didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Aww, you're already spreading your legs? Darling, I just touched the inside of your thigh and you're already presenting for me, huh?" Stephen mocked your wide-eyed wonder. His fingertips traced the outer seam of your panties, causing fine hairs to stand up all over your body. Finding you mum and defiant, holding your breath, he reached out a thumb to swipe right at the rapidly growing wet spot. "Showing off for me?"

Your full-bodied shuddering didn't escape the rapt attention of the doctor, either: his hawk's eyes watched you, documenting the conflicting microexpressions, your consideration to just giving in and your inherently stubborn nature.

"Stephen," you warned, threatening not sure what.

The man rubbed a few circles over your clit, delighting in your soft trembling, before placing a chaste kiss on your tummy. The energy between the two of you was electric; like the stand-still air before a storm.

You stumbled when he suddenly grabbed hold of your ass, pressing you into him ass he used his mouth, lips and teeth to mark the expanse of your stomach.

"You were saying, darling?"

You grabbed his hair, pulling it in retaliation. It was not fair how quickly he turned you into a mindless puddle of lust.

"You're an ass."

Stephen chuckled, using his larger form to pull you into him even further, forcing you to crawl onto your bed, only coming to a rest when his head hit the middle of your mattress and you were kneeling between his spread legs.

The outline of his cock in the dark grey sweats immediately drew your attention; it looked thick and long. You audibly swallowed the saliva that gathered in your mouth at the sight.

"None of that," he caught on sternly, pushing you higher up his body, until you were straddling his midsection. And higher, placing your core almost over his face. Your noise of confusion was met with a smug smirk. "You want to shut me up. Do your worst, baby."

There was little more to do that blink; in a second Stephen pressed his nose directly into the soaked gusset of your panties, taking an obscenely loud and indecently long breath. The sculpted appendage brushed your clit, sending little sparks deep into your pussy.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily sinking down, seeking more friction as you became hyperaware of the throbbing in your cunt.

"Nu-uh, keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby," his voice hoarse and slightly muffled, Stephen gripped the meat of your ass to grind you against his face, using his teeth to move your panties to the side. "Make a mess."

Fuck me up, was what you really heard. As soon as your bare skin came in contact with the roughness of his chapped lips and his beard, what thoughts remained quickly took the exit. Experimentally, you ground down, wincing, hearing the slick noises coming from your body.

"Fuck," you groaned through gritted teeth, gripping the man's shoulders for support. Having gotten a sample taste of him, you couldn't stop.

Stephen stuck out his tongue, eagerly lapping up what slick you produced, not caring about it dripping down his chin and glistening his cheeks. The increase in speed and desperation coming from you only egged him on.

"That's a good girl," the sorcerer honest-to-god moaned in between strokes. "You love it like this, don't you?"

"Yes," you rasped, chasing your fill of pleasure. His nose was positioned just right, catching onto your clit with every upstroke and brushing over your labia as you desperately fucked your sloppy hole onto his tongue. "So good."

The grin made an appearance once more; he held your eye, watching with rapt attention as your own vision drifted in and out of focus, swayed on the waves of pleasure.

You were sure his fingers on your ass were going to leave marks for days.

He was holding onto you as fiercely as you rode his face, blue eyes shamelessly documenting every bit of desire on your open face.

The tip of his tongue flicked around your cunt, dipping into the hole to collect the moisture and immediately diving back, over and over. You'd never been devoured so completely and it turned your legs to jelly. Your thighs shook, breasts heaved in rhythm with your hips.

Stephen winked, dragging your pretty much useless form over his face, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You eyes flew shut. The direct assault on your pulsating, sensitive clit was too much; you couldn't take it, torn between pulling away and putting more weight to allow yourself to finally get what you had been craving ever since stepping foot in the shower.

"Stephen, I want to come," you demanded, movements growing sloppier with each passing second.

"What's stopping you?" His innocent inquiry was overshadowed by more and more wet, slippery noises and satisfied groaning.

"It's-" a whine escaped you, thought process interrupted die to his wet beard dragging along your engorged labia majora, "I need more!"

As your bottom lip disappeared behind your front teeth, you could only blink in a lust-induced stupor as golden ropes entwined parts of your body. Suddenly, you found yourself staring up at Stephen, the familiar, soft fabric of your comforter under your back.

Lips shaking and face completely drenched, the sorcerer tore the magic binds, grinning dangerously at your prone form.

You swallowed, legs twitching around his waist. The rapid change in position gave you slight vertigo as blood rushed from your cunt back to your head.

"My, my, what do we have here?"

Stephen used a single finger to move stray hairs, that had been stuck to your clammy cheek, out of your face. The sorcerer's grin only grew as his eyes darted to your flexing throat.

"Aww, baby, I know you need to be filled up to come," he cooed, watching your lips part to take in a shuddering breath, "that little hole is practically begging for me to put something in it. Will you be good for me?" Eyes round and voice soft, Stephen had your full attention. "I know you want to be good for me."

You could do little more than blink, having been pushed further and further into mindless lust by the doctor's honeyed, filthy words. His eloquent speech patterns, wrapped in that deep, velvet baritone, had permanently elevated your standards for dirty talk in just two sentences. You dripped from his voice alone.

The thick, hard flesh of his cock slapped against your tummy, immediately forming a wet, sticky spot under the round, leaking tip.

You arched into him. "I'll be good," you mumbled, swallowing the last remnants of your pride.

"What's that?" He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, kicking off his pants completely, covering you with himself, trying to touch as much of you as physically possible. "Didn't hear you, baby."

"I'll be good for you," you looked up at him through your lashes.

The change in him was instantaneous. The angles of his face grew sharper than ever, lips pursed into a firm smirk. The glint in his eye was positively demonic as he leaned down to pepper your face with more light, airy kisses.

"If I had known before, that all it takes for you to be sweet is putting my mouth on your cute little pussy," he began to grind his hips slowly, angling his cock to hit the spot between your pubic bone and your thigh. "I woulda pulled up one of those patterned skirts you wear right in the Sanctum's kitchen and bent you over the the counter until your word vomit ceased completely."

Despite the cruel-sounding words and the attitude, you sensed no malice coming from the man above you. Your arms had wound around his neck, your hips clumsily attempted to match the pace of his rutting.

Stephen nuzzled into your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweat and smearing your own arousal all over. "You taste divine."

His confession had you take in a shuddering breath, mewling, as his cock slid right over your pussy, giving a touch of barely-there pressure over your engorged clit. Your hips had a mind of their own, chasing after him, fevered and yearning, core hungry and hollow.

"Stephen," your voice cracked with the force of need pulling you taut like a string.

He wasn't done talking yet, but the pace and force of his hips increased, now applying more and more friction to the outer parts of your cunt.

"I know, baby," he soothed, taking hold of your hand and placing his palms over them, leaning on his forearms next to your head. "I'll make it all better, all you have to do is ask. Beg, pretty girl, beg me and I'll give it to you."

Figures. It would be exactly like Stephen, to demand the impossible. You exhaled a slow breath through your nose, mustering up a miligram of dignity to stare the smug doctor down. You sure as hell didn't beg!

It was obvious he had expected some kind of pushback. His grin turned sadistic as his cock slid lower, brushing over your sopping entrance: he froze in place, keeping you at the tip of his cock, heat pouring off him in waves, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

In a split second decision, you attempted to wiggle your hips to get as much of him, as quickly possible.

"Nu-uh," he pulled away from the immediate wiggle zone. "You promised you'll be good," he reminded you, rubbing his damp facial hair, tickling you in the process. "Only good girls get to come on my cock. And you can be so, so good darlin'..." He trailed off, carefully pushing himself back into your space.

You evaluated your options, quickly and painfully coming to a realisation there was no other choice but to swallow the lump of pride and put some work into your own release.

"Please," you mumbled, cheeks ablaze. The words rolled off stiff and clumsy off your tongue, quiet in their novelty. "Please, fuck me."

"We're getting somewhere," his powerful thighs opened you up to him, cool air spreading over your heated sex, "you're being so good for me," another kiss landed over your parted lips, more breathless than the last, "now one more time, show me you mean it."

"Please, fuck me, Stephen," the force of your desire seeped into your words, finally breaking through the dam of embarrassment and trepidation. You mewled again, a high, soft noise, as the fat head of his cock sunk in an inch into your wet cunt.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted through gritted teeth as his eyes squeezed shut. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Slowly, Stephen slid another generous two or three inches in; about halfway through.

The muscles of your sex spasmed, accepting the intrusion and eagerly flexing around his cock, attempting to suck him in for all his worth. You felt every ridge and vein on his girthy, heavy cock, his face blurry in front of your eyes.

"Oh God," you uttered, sensing the gargantuan amount of restraint it took him to not just slide in: Stephen's arms trembled, tummy taut and tense.

As your body accepted the intrusion, he wasted no time in slamming his hips into yours, bottoming out with a single, powerful thrust. Stephen pulled back almost completely and forced his way inside again, allowing himself to enjoy the hot, snug grip of your cunt.

"My sweet girl," his voice little more than an unintelligible growl, his head dropped in a search for your lips. "I got you baby, I got you," sensing you teetering on the brink of overstimulation, he captured your mouth and shoved his tongue down your throat, uncaring about the guttural noises clawing their way out of it.

Stephen fucked you with languid, powerful thrusts that shook your bedframe and slid your body upwards as his cock nosed at the deepest parts of your cunt, a wet, sloppy noise echoing in the room every time he pulled away from you. Your lust flowed freely, soaking your thighs and his, causing your bodies to stick together.

He shifted his hips one way and another, groaning into the kiss with every noise you made, humming as they grew in volume.

And then your world briefly stilled. Your tummy clenched and pussy gushed as Stephen's cock touched a spot that had been often left neglected by your past partners; the scratch of Stephen's trimmed pubic hair brushing against your clit amplified the sensation tenfold, your pussy flexing around his cock.

"There we go," Stephen chuckled breathlessly, and shoved his cock right up against that spot again.

And again, and again, and again...

All you could do was keep your mouth open for the most needed oxygen to get to your lungs; quite literally, the man had stolen your breath away. Noises of intermediate volume left you on the exhales, but you paid them no mind, the sensation having had demanded your full attention. Eyes wide open, they stayed firmly on Stephen's flushed, kind face.

"You look so beautiful when you're about to come," the corner of his mouth lifted into a sheepish grin as he kept up the same even, brutal pace with his hips.

Shit, you realised. You really were about to come.

"S-Step-phen," you voiced your surprise with slurred syllables. "Doc, whas'.."

"Shh, baby," his smile grew. "Don't force it. Just let it happen. You'll feel so good, I promise," he punctuated the softness of his words with a kiss to the slack corner of your mouth.

You obeyed. Despite the aching, pulling desire, you choose to obey his words, letting go of the tension in your abs and hips. The relaxed state of your body allowed Stephen to settle in even deeper between your legs as they fell open, ravishing you; the good doctor had just the perfect cure for the tension you carried around all day, every day.

"That's my girl, you're doing so well for me, so precious, so sweet," the sweet nothings whispered into your ear was like taking small sips of nectar on a hot summer's day.

"Fuck-" you whisper-shouted, body immediately responding to the hold Stephen's words had on your mind.

It seized as your orgasm began: waves that rocked your entire being, starting as small contractions in the bottom of your cunt and spreading throughout your stomach, wave after wave of bliss, until it reached your toes and made them curl in utterly sweet agony. The tide was strong and high, sweeping you under the water and carrying you through the afterglow all with the help of Stephen's gentle, passionate words.

His hips has slowed down somewhat, the motion becoming more fluid in nature; thump-thump-thump of his heart pressed against your chest. He was everywhere, savouring your release just as much as you had enjoyed the supernovae of his skillful touch.

Words didn't come easy to you, but you tried nonetheless. "Stephen, please," you weren't sure what you were begging for. On one side, your sensitive cunt still throbbed and gushed; on the other, you longed to feel the man lose himself in you like you'd lost you mind in his arms just moments ago.

"That's my girl," he chuckled weakly, delicately gripping your hands and giving them a light squeeze. His cock slid out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing.

"Mmm," you protested weakly, limbs heavy as you attempted to reach out to him.

"I'm right here," Stephen tapped the top of your pubic bone frivolously, sitting back on his heels. The majestic curve of his cock glistened with your juices; it attracted your attention immediately and Stephen chuckled. "Staring is rude. Now come on, hands and knees."

Your eyes shot up to his face for a second before you looked away, willing your tired body to just cooperate. Lifting your arms and legs seemed like an impossible feat after the earth-shattering orgasm that Stephen had talked you through. One leg after the other, you slid down, rolling into your tummy and squirming at the wet spot right under it. It was all you: reduced to a mere leaky faucet in the sorcerer's presence.

Calloused hands gingerly pressed on your calves, raising your ass in the air.

You squirmed again, wide open for him to see, cold air hitting your sore, abused cunt and causing it to twitch.

A loud, shameless smooch was placed right on it by the man, followed by a long tongue sliding up and down your slit.

You whined, embarrassed and sensitive, shifting you weight away from his mouth as your back arched. It felt almost too much but the memories of that wide, nimble tongue still remained fresh and left you aching for more.

"I'm right here," Stephen patted your bottom. "I'm not gonna hurt you baby, okay? Tell me if it hurts."

His cock was nosing at your entrance once more; as you pushed back onto it, Stephen slammed his hips into yours, fingertips digging into your ass cheeks as he pulled them apart. You didn't need a mirror to know his eyes were trained on your cunt, the place were it hungrily swallowed the throbbing meat of his cock.

Eyes shut, you let your thoughts wander, examining the image in your mind's eye. The way his brow furrowed when he focused on something, smile lines more prominent than ever. Did Stephen bite his lip when he encountered something unexpected?

The bed shook with the force of his thrusts and you with it. Each one aimed well, deep and powerful, it made small, quiet noises leave your lips as his balls slapped harshly against your swollen clit.

"Ahh," your cunt spasmed as he found that spot again. You're were beginning to get sore, but it was a welcoming sort of pain.

"Shh, baby," Stephen panted, voice low and rugged. "I'm almost done. Just a little more, I know you can be good for me. So, so good..." He trailed off, topping it off with a low moan as he bottomed out inside your swollen cunt once again.

You swore your eyes rolled back in your head on their own accord. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your chest, hands gripping the bedsheets desperately and uselessly. Your mind was sluggish, barely comprehending the fact Stephen was using your cunt to get off: the idea felt so, so wrong, but you'd be a rotten liar if it didn't ignite another small storm in the pit of your belly.

"Arms behind your back," Stephen barked suddenly and you winced at how quickly you obeyed. Magic wound around your body once more, securing them into a position that allowed the sorcerer to tug you up: your knees firmly planted on the bed and your top half suspended at his mercy. "Just making sure you don't get lost in that pretty little head of yours," the amount of control this man had was unfair.

His cock kept up pace inside of you; you swore you felt it swell even the moment you mindlessly obeyed his command. The angle let him touch even more of you, both inside and out. You tasted the sweet, hot sweat of your coupling.

The string of magic tied to you was a lead in one of his hands. He eagerly dragged you onto his cock, over and over, the golden binds wrapped around your arms and chest like a straitjacket. A sexy straitjacket.

There wasn't much room for thought when all you could feel, sense and hear was Stephen: his sinful groaning, panting, the obscene sounds of your flesh slapping together. You thighs shook, spit collected in the slack corners of your mouth: you panted out, tongue stiff and uncooperative.

You wanted to feel him come, to fill you up completely, until you burst.

His movements turned sloppier and sloppier until his cock was disappearing into you at a rapid, disorganized pace, the bulbous tip sliding deep inside.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" the groan he emitted was so close to your ear, you felt it in your cunt.

Starts burst behind your eyelids for the second time as he throbbed inside your spasming cunt, your combined contractions echoing back and forth until the pit of your belly felt warm and full. Some of his cum leaked out immediately, dripped down your labia and down your leg.

Noisily, he let go of the binds and your combined bodies gracelessly crashed onto the bed.

You weren't sure how long you laid like this, warm and safe, full inside and out. Minutes went by lazily, stretching into what felt like eons. You floated above time, above space, lulled by gentle, low murmurs in your ear.

Trembling hands gently parted your legs as cotton brushed over your raw cunt. Noises of protest died on your lips as Stephen shushed you.

"Take it easy," he placed a kiss on your tailbone, doing his best to clean up the biggest part of the mess.

You haven't even noticed him pull out. "Wha?"

The bed dipped next to you, his red, grinning face slowly coming into focus. "You're thinking so loudly."

You weren't? Having thoughts wasn't anywhere on your to-do list in the nearest future. For once, your brain had ceased it's usual violent tapdancing and you could breathe freely, the burden of anxiety removed.

"You did so good for me, baby," Stephen looked so proud and happy, crow's feet around his eyes deep and hair sticking in odd directions, silver strands mixed with dark browns and chestnuts, dying candlelight adding golds and ambers into the view.

Even like this, he looked sinful. Like a fallen angel.

"You're so pretty," was what your brain came up with. You wanted to fall through the face of the earth as soon as the words left your mouth.

Stephen chuckled, placing a kiss on your nose, then one more on each cheek and a final smooch on your forehead. "Says you."

Embarrassed, you hurried to nod your head to hide in the crook of his neck.

"None of that," promptly, you were returned to be displayed to his clever eyes. "Stop overthinking."

"But-" you argued weakly.

"No," his finger, scarred and shaky, poked your nose in what only could be described as petty defiance. "You're not this dense. I know you can do better."

The angles of his face acutely on display, you weighed your options. It wasn't looking good for you: come morning, he'll be gone, odd display of affection pushed aside, and you'd return to work to once more be greeted by the stoic, sarcastic man who's hobby included insulting you for sport.

And as much as you hated admitting it, he was better than you in most things: sorcery, looks, accomplishments. Some people just had it going for them.

"You can do better," you frowned. "You're you, doctor Stephen Strange, surgeon extraordinaire and sorce-"

His lips landed on yours, chapped and puffy, swallowing any protests that your brain could come up with on the spot, leaving you no option but to surrender to the sweet torture of the kiss.

"No," his eyes caught yours, firm and fiery. "And if you don't know what's good for you, well, I'm going to have to show you. You did so good today, after all, and it would be a shame to waste all that potential." His grin turned wolfish.

Shame and arousal flooded your senses as you closed your eyes mutely, finally, finally convinced yourself that sometimes, giving in might be the better option.

Stephen Strange taglist:

@mikariell95 @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton @biiskuitx @heyarely16 @bdffkierenwalker @rosequartzwriting @auroralush @heart_charming @pshychadelichues @dilftallica @starkiller-queen @inas_thing @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lalaooopsie @brwn-sgr @altriestowrite @devilslilbabysblog @pervhotch @treegobonk @agathaharknesslut @persephonewritessometimes @endlessthxxghts @milena-xoxo @popeheywardssecretgf @inas-thing @fuckingarsonistbitch @pathetic-simp @sparrows-corner @turkisherlockian @srapalestina @sourlemonsandlimes @emlynblack @meeksmusic83 @chaoticevilbakugo @vane28282 @saturdaynightzemo @luminevans @danzalladaggers @viva-asgardia @sobeautifullyobsessed

#bun writes #dr strange smut #stephen strange smut #doctor strange smut #marvel smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #female reader #dr strange x you #doctor strange x you #stephen strange #i like his hoodie okay #im very into middle-aged dads

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prolix-yuy · 4 months ago

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M I am SAT for this reblog, you know I uncontrollably giggle and kick my feet whenever I see your posts! (hence the sitting)

See I get enemies to lovers, but I need it to be that the "enemy" aspect is more like annoyance or frustration. The second someone becomes my actual enemy I am not gonna fuck them!

Pero is so fun to translate into modern times! Like what would he do if he got thrust into the modern century? Be a snarky handyman who views arguments as foreplay, of course!

That little bit about him teaching and helping her was so important to me. I wanted us to know he's not being snarky because he thinks she's stupid, but because he knows she's not and he loves how annoyed she gets when she has to listen to him. Absolute killer dynamic I love it.

The quibbling hands! I can see him doing a little mocking imitation of fighting on his face too, he's definitely getting shit for that later.

Oh you know they had to fuck it out after the reveal! I love that even after they admit it, they still need to circle each other just a little more. Believe me, Pero wouldn't have it any other way ;)

Whooooo boy, she is a stronger woman than I because I would have crumpled like a leaf at "are you wet?" I blushed writing it. That bastard.

That paragraph resonated with a lot of people and I think that means we all need to be worshiped a little every now and then!

Thank you so much for reading and sending along another of your fantabulous reblogs! The end of the year was a bit shit (hence the late reply!) but you make it worth it dear!

Ah, but it's cold outside

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Summary: If you could throw Pero Tovar out of your bed and breakfast you would, but something more than your constant bickering keeps him darkening your door.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, fingering, PiV sex, consenting unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming inside, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), Pero Tovar is Uncircumcised, pain kink, exhibitionism, slight degradation kink, enemies to lovers as self-actualization? We love to see it.

Notes: Happy Holidays @221bshrlocked! I am your not-so-Secret Santa for @pedrostories Secret Santa event! I love love LOVED your prompts and had to give you as many as I could possibly jam into one fic. Plus it's been a while since I've written Pero and I need that grumpy man to get his ass handed to him every now and then. I hope you enjoy!

With the wind howling outside and the lights flickering dangerously, the last person you want to see on your front steps is Pero Tovar. But you barely have time to register the dark-haired pain in your ass before he’s pushing past you and into the warm haven of your bed and breakfast.

“I wasn’t expecting you for another week,” you call over your shoulder, closing the door against the freezing air. Even when the latch clicks the force of the gusts still rattles the door.

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome,” he huffs, swatting snow off his wool jacket to puddle on the floor. Rolling your eyes, you stalk into the kitchen for towels.

“It’s late, what do you want?” you call from the other room, unable to stop yourself from twisting your mouth into a pretty fair imitation of Pero’s scowl. You’d just turned off all the lights, only the twinkling glows of Christmas decorations still lighting the main floor.

“The road’s snowed out, I can’t see shit. I debated on whether it would be easier on my nerves to keep going or stop here.” He waves at your exasperated face when he catches the towel you toss. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The telltale frustration rises in your throat, and you swallow it down. “I don’t have any rooms, everyone’s hiding out from the storm.” Busying yourself with the late-night tasks you know by heart, Pero thumps along behind you.

“Believe me, I would rather be in my own bed than your ‘charming’ ones, but I am out of options. Anything. A couch. It’s too cold to sleep in the truck.”

There it is again, that seething annoyance climbing up your spine. You take in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before gesturing at the common room.

“The couch is the best I can do.”

Before you’re done speaking he’s striding in, shucking off his jacket to drape over a chair before kneeling by the dying fire. You’re about to scold him for kicking it back to life but if the power does fail the heat will be welcome.

“I have to finish closing up, yell if you need something,” you add, his dismissive wave meeting your mocking wave back. The scrunch in your shoulders eases partway through the mess of dishes you’re washing, thankful that the silence of late nights is still yours even with the eerie howls and creaks of the storm surrounding you.

Yours and Pero’s relationship was barely that, if anyone asked. When he first came to town you were elated that a carpenter-handyman type was finally local. You had so many projects half-finished or begging to start in your bed and breakfast, a cozy Tudor-style house you bought at the peak of another career crisis. Thankfully this choice was a revelation, even with the tremendous undertaking. The pipes were of indeterminate age and prone to cracks, the noise of the radiators a heart-pounding alarm clock. The unpleasant odors of past smokers and bad cooks hung heavy everywhere you turned, but paint and YouTube videos and determination brought it up to a standard you were proud of. However, you didn’t want to know what electrocution feels like, or be chummy with the scent of carbon monoxide, so after a proper number of niceties and crossed paths you invited Pero over.

The first day he darkened your door, you felt something wildly different than his entrance this evening. He was dark haired, roguish in an unfamiliar way. Simply dressed in jeans and a canvas jacket over a black t-shirt, his frame tugged against mouthwatering places you tried not to stare at. He was polite, wiping his feet at the door and setting his toolbox down gently. His accented voice was deep, sonorous, goddamn sexy. You had to focus on showing him the finicky electrical box and the concerning gas hookup in the kitchen to stop your mind from wandering to steamy romance novel plots.

Then he started speaking, and it all went to hell.

“You should take down the curtains too,” he hummed, the cadence almost masking the disdain before your brain snapped to attention.

“The…curtains? Are they a fire hazard?”

“No, they are ugly.”

Heat flooded your face, your teeth clacking together as you whipped to look at Pero. His face is the picture of disgust, and when he meets your eyes there isn’t a hint of embarrassment in them. “Did they come with the place?”

“No, they fit the aesthetic.”

“This is an aesthetic?”

You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips but he didn’t back down one bit. He kept talking.

“I thought the furniture was from the previous owner. Cheaper, you know. You like it?” He looks around as if someone would back him up, but you just fold your arms.

“People don’t come to a bed and breakfast because it’s modern, they come because it’s quaint and charming and…”

“...cheaper than the Marriott…”

“And how would you do it then? Design the space for me, oh wise one.”

“Not how my grandmother would do it.”

Pero did not get your business that day.

Embarrassingly enough, he did get it three weeks later when your gas line started leaking. He critiqued how many mouse droppings were behind the stove and recommended an exterminator. You almost threw him out.

So if anyone asks, you and Pero do not have a relationship. You have a business agreement, at best. A begrudging one. He comes when you call - not quickly, of course, and it feels like a personal slight even when he insists he has many clients - and you pay him after haggling over the cost of the pipe or how long he actually worked for (he has a tendency to charge for his hour-long lunch breaks). He makes his snide little comments and you spit a retort back, and sometimes you swear you catch him smirking to himself after you deliver something especially sharp.

As you dry your hands, you dwell maybe a few minutes too long on this. You’d never admit it in earshot of his big head, but there’s something incredibly freeing about talking to Pero. Sure, he criticizes and complains about anything he comes within five feet of, but he’s never cruel to you. He never speaks down to you, or makes you feel inferior because you don’t know something. Most of the time he explains what he’s doing so you can do it yourself, with only a few jabs thrown in for flavor. No contractor has ever treated you as capable before. Most try to talk over your or around the topic, and you have to smile and gently redirect them to understand that yes, you are aware of what an impact driver is and no, you think drywall screws would be overkill to reattach that molding. You’d rather snark at Pero all day then have one of those pillow-scream-worthy conversations again.

Shaking off the retrospection, you take a plate of leftover roast chicken and potatoes into the common room. Pero, as you expected, has stoked the fire into an almost concerning blaze but the warmth is welcome. He’s settling back into the well-worn couch and scrolling on his phone as you plop the plate on his lap. Your knuckles graze the top of his thigh when you withdraw, a nervous tingle dancing through your stomach.

What the hell was that about? It’s Pero, for fuck’s sake.

“Eat,” you order, rounding the couch to drop into the open space. If there’s one order Pero will never argue about it’s to eat, which he does with gusto and a nod in your direction. The crackle of the fire covers the ravenous chewing - even barely hungry he eats like a man starved - as you let your body relax into the cushions. All the guests are tucked away, breakfast is prepped and ready, and the silence is welcome. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived.

“I did not think you would be fully booked. I wouldn’t have bothered stopping by.”

It’s too late and you’re too tired to deal with this bullshit right now. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“And why would you think that Pero? Because somehow I could never run a business this well?”

“That’s not…”

“Or am I not paying you enough? Are we about to have a heart to heart over hourly rates?”

“I am not…”

“Then fucking out with it then! If you hate being here, being around me so much, then just tell me why so I can stop trying to give a shit about it.”

The silence that follows pulls your hands from your eyes, and where you thought Pero would be glaring at you he’s…confused. Which is…also confusing.

“I thought this was fun,” he says, voice softening to a rumble that loses its edges in the fire. “The, you know, the back and forth.” He studies his hands, blunt thumbnail dragging along a knuckle. “Most people defer to me because I’m…” Gesturing at himself, what could be a brag instead is dripping with annoyance. “The men pretend to be in league with me, and the women laugh at everything I say. It’s so…boring.”

You’re frozen in place, brows knit as you let him speak, a tingle rising up the back of your neck and flooding your fingertips.

“Any bullshit that entertains me, I can do with them. But not with you.” He can’t meet your eyes, instead staring into the fire that paints the planes of his face in luscious amber. “You never let me get away with shit. I like that. I thought you liked that too. You always seemed to get…brighter when we were…” His hands come up and make little quibbling mouths, finally looking at you.

Have you ever seen his gaze so bare before?

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood.”

Inside your body, a mounting wave of understanding and excitement fills your limbs. No one has ever praised your fire, your brightness, only wanting to tamp it down into something manageable and palatable. Now before you is a man who not only revels in it, but encourages it? You’ve never felt this thrum of excitement before, like holding a tuning fork against your sternum.

“You did,” you say, the strength of your voice surprising. Rising to stand, Pero’s chin tilts, a supplicant before you. “Because if you had given me even an inkling of an idea that this was foreplay, I wouldn’t have held back.”

Much like your own revelation, you can see your words change Pero. His brow smooths before arching in tandem with his growing smirk. Hands coming down to grasp the seat cushion, his veins bulge against the creak of upholstery. He tilts his chin to you with shrinking obedience.

“Then I am very interested in seeing you at your worst.”

The words drive you to clench. This is dangerous new territory, but nothing could hold you back from striding headfirst into it. Two swaying steps place you in front of Pero, his knees widening to stand between. The new angle makes him lean back, exposing the tantalizing length of his neck dotted with delicate freckles.

“I don’t know, Pero, you may not deserve that honor.” A giggle rises in your throat, letting yourself enjoy your new-found freedom. Saying exactly what’s on your mind without the nagging fear of being too much. By Pero’s expression, he’s enjoying it too. You wind up another retort, but his next words steal your breath.

“Are you wet right now?” he says, tongue slipping out to lick at his lower lip. The crude statement slams heat into your face, and suddenly your hand is in the air and headed for Pero’s stubbly cheek.

“Ah!” he scolds, catching your wrist firmly before you make contact. Your brain barely has time to register you were going to smack him! when he yanks you closer, catching yourself on the back of the couch.

“I knew you were sharp in many more ways,” he gloats, and you can’t decide if you want to try wiping that smirk off his face with your palm or your mouth. “I’ll ask again - are you wet right now?”

This is the precipice of desire and level thinking, your toes on the edge. Strong voices shout that this is crazy, foolish, ill-advised. You feel too good to pay them mind.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Hunger roars in Pero’s eyes but his movements are slow, steady as he helps you straighten to standing. The fire licks at your back, but his hands finding the waist of your jeans are scorching. Eyes flick up to you as he pops the button loose, thick fingers grasping the small zip to open it tooth by tooth. The challenge is to let him take his time, and you’re up for it. By the generous tenting in his pants he’s affected too.

“What will I find if I take these off? Pretty little panties? Something lace? Nothing at all?” he husks, toying with the plaquet as he purposefully doesn’t look.

“I think my previous answer still stands,” you retort, and your boldness earns you a rakish smile while Pero rolls your jeans down. The darkness of night shrouds your form, but anyone stumbling in could find you like this. Something tells you Pero likes it better that way.

“Perfect,” he whispers, and his hot breath ghosting over your mound raises goosebumps.

“At this rate it’ll be morning before…” you tease, lips forming around a smile, but that morphs into a choked exhale when Pero deftly pulls aside your panties and slides his thumb over your clit. Your hands come to his shoulders, digging in as he traces an experimental circle.

“I knew you were dripping,” Pero purrs, and words fail as two fingers slide through your folds to press at your entrance. “I want to fuck you on my fingers, is that amenable to the lady?”

Staccato laughter punctuates your “yes” before he presses in, those hands you’d marveled at fitting into the hot clutch of your cunt just shy of painful. Then he curls them and you can’t stop the high-pitched whine that whistles out.

“Just needed something to scratch that itch, hm? Needed a little finger fucking to relax?” he says, and even with your body responding beautifully to his slick rhythm you can’t let that go. One hand twists into his hair, wrapping locks around your fingers before squeezing.

Like an electric shock Pero’s body locks up, mouth falling open and his hips undulating more than you expected. You tut at him, superiority flooding your brain even as your pussy drenches his hand.

“Tattling on yourself, Pero. Let your mouth run just a little and I’ll learn all your secrets.” His fingers redouble their efforts, thumb sliding over your clit as he coaxes your orgasm to the surface, but now his head is in your hands, nails digging into his scalp as he fights against succumbing to the pricks of pain.

“Devil woman,” he hisses with no fire. “Tell me what you want - fuck, you’re so fucking wet - tell me what you want to make you cum.”

Your mind races with possibilities - your slick smeared on Pero’s beard, his hands wrapped around your headboard, what his lips would feel like - but the mounting need in your chest is to be filled.

“I want to fuck you. Right here.”

Pero curses colorfully, fumbling at his belt. You ease his hand from your pussy, the ache of the loss a yawning chasm but he needs both to yank off his jeans and boxers. Pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra, you’re nude and silhouetted by the dying fire. Pero is struggling with his shirt when he glances up at you, stunned into stillness.

“Mierda,” he whispers. It’s said like a prayer, and at this moment you know why worship is addictive. Pero’s reverent gaze is a stronger aphrodisiac than any oyster could hope to be. He comes back to himself enough to yank the shirt over his head, revealing dark chest hair leading down to a healthy mess of curls surrounding his flushing cock. He fists it, sliding the foreskin down to reveal the deep purpling head slick with precum. Cocking your hip, you fake a loud sigh.

“Fine, I guess you have a big enough dick to act the way you do,” you observe, diffusing the weighty moment enough for Pero to scoff and smile. It’s new on his face, his scowl so everpresent, that you bask in it briefly.

“Come sit on my lap,” he implores, reaching out to take your hand. After all the sparring, the gentleness puts you off-kilter, unused to being allowed both.

“What are you, Santa?” you ask, straddling him and settling on his thighs as he rolls his eyes.

“Are you trying to make me lose this? Is it a little too intimidating for all your big talk?” Pero teases, stroking his definitely still very hard cock before tapping the head against your mound.

“Don’t worry, I know how to get it back if you do,” you quip, dragging your fingernails lightly down his chest before he can retort. He reacts exactly how you’d hoped, muscles clenching and a bead of precum dribbling from his tip. “Do you like it when I make it hurt just a little bit?”

“Yes,” he groans, unashamed, unselfconscious, and your cunt throbs. “You can make it hurt more,” he says, eyes widening suddenly as you see him realize he said that out loud. Sliding closer to hover over his proud cock, you take another sweat-damp handful of hair and squeeze. His groans are growing in volume but you can’t bring yourself to care. You can blame it on the storm in the morning.

“I’ll let you have anything you want if you’re a good boy for me.”

The whine he’s clearly embarrassed to have let out is cut off by a sudden inhale.

“Wait,” he gasps, hands digging into your hips to hold you above his cock. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you interject, “and I haven’t slept with anyone in…like, eight months.”

Pero’s hands knead into your flesh, eyes searching your face.

“I’ll pull out.”

You don’t even think about it.

“Don’t you dare.”

If what you saw was hunger before, what’s in Pero’s expression now is ravenous. His lips curl back into a snarl, eyes deep and dark. Suddenly his fingers are inside you, scissoring you open roughly as you pant into his ear.

“Tell me to slow down,” he growls, but you shake your head. “Tell me…when I need to.”

“I need you, Pero, please, now.”

No longer holding you still, Pero’s hands guide you down onto his cock. The moment his head breaches a whole body shiver races through.

“Are you…”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He fills you until he’s in your guts, your lungs, surrounding you with his arms and his thighs below. The splay of his hands on your back makes you dizzy, head buzzy with hormones and his musk and every place he’s touching you in a symphony of pleasure. Faintly you realize he’s saying something, lips moving against your shoulder.

“Pero?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A few drops of clarity sharpen the mush in your brain.

“You’re inside of me and we forgot to kiss.”

Pero’s chest hitches once, then again, then the both of you are moving out of sync as hiccupy laughter overtakes you. He pants when you clench around him, trying to catch his breath until you both come back to your senses.

“I was enjoying what you were saying too much,” he admits, leaning back against the couch. His face is shadowed but you catch the glint of his eyes, the wetness of his plush lips. How had you resisted them this long?

Pero beats you to initiate, pulling you down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and chaste, his hands cupping your head as you part. But you beat him to return the kiss, pressing him into the couch with a deeper kiss, barely waiting for him to react before urging his lips open. He hums greedily into your mouth, letting you explore with your tongue before he fills you with his. It’s not long before his mouth is frantic, gripping your hips as he makes an experimental thrust into your cunt that breaks your lips apart.

“Pero, fuck,” you gasp, nails digging into his back as he thrusts up deep and smooth. You meet his pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit against him. Fighting for dominance, you finally push him back and ride him in earnest, lifting up over and over again to slam his cock into your cunt. He’s mesmerized by how your tits bounce, taking one in his palm to knead to tease your nipple as your orgasm creeps up your spine.

“Fuck, Pero, you feel so good,” you moan, slowing to grind down, the friction of his pubic hair on your clit giving you the edge to pull your climax close.

“You feel amazing on my cock. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you pant, using every inch of Pero to find that moment of bliss. “Fuck, yes Pero, I want to cum on you. Want to feel you inside.” It’s right there, you’re at the brink of tipping over.

“Fuck, yes, oh fuck, say my name like that. Say it when you’re cumming.”

Your nerves sing and your body pulses to the beat of Pero, Pero, Pero rasping from your lips. He’s growling something you wish you could understand but the blood is pumping too loudly in your ears. The only thing you register is the couch against your back as Pero flips you. He’s pressed long against your body, hips snapping into your cunt even as you’re so tight around him.

“...beautiful, you’re so beautiful, can’t stop…” you faintly hear as the sensations of Pero’s hands roaming your body, his humid mouth at your neck, and the wet slap of his cock bring you back to your body. His thrusts are becoming erratic, right on the cusp of his own orgasm, when you dig your nails into his back and rake them down his spine.

Pero’s orgasmic bellow is muffled in your neck as the throb of his cock empties inside you. You offer little scratches up and down his arms and shoulders as he comes down, hips pressing in deeper as he lets out satisfied groans. Finally he slumps, head resting on your chest as he catches his breath.

The silence is back, the dimming fire combating the dark. This was by far the best fuck you’d had in ages, and in no small part due to the freedom to just be. But when the sun rises - hell, when the post-orgasmic haze lifts - what will this even look like?

Pero sighs and lifts up on his hands, easing his cock out before softly swearing and grabbing his shirt to wipe away the cum dripping out of you.

“I might recommend getting this couch cleaned,” he muses, sitting up on his knees to look down at your loose-limbed body with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t think we’re the first ones to do that on this particular piece of furniture,” you joke, enjoying the wrinkle of disgust on Pero’s face.

“Then I definitely recommend a shower. And request a bedsheet.”

The statement is unassuming in a way that you needed. Yes, this is new and strange, but you’ve always embraced both.

“You know, there is still one bed left in this bed and breakfast.”

Pero’s head perks up.

“The only problem is that it’s mine.”

A roguish smile dimples Pero’s cheek as he hovers over you.

“And what must I do to share it with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

END

"I ought to say, "No, no, no sir" Mind if I move in closer? At least I'm gonna say that I tried What's the sense in hurting my pride? I really can't stay Baby, don't hold out Baby, it's cold outside."

#lovely reader!#toomanytookas #modern pero tovar #pero tovar x reader

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