#bun writes
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[Banner by @/cafekitsune]
I feel like Enji would be so hesitant to be rough with you in bed. He knows how big and strong he is. He knows firsthand the physical and mental damage he's capable of if he's not careful. He treats you like fine china, like a beautiful porcelain doll. You're his treasure, his love. That being said, the man is whipped. He'd bring down the moon from the heavens if you asked him to in that sweet little voice with those puppy dog eyes.
So when you beg him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper, to use you like a whore, he can't help but give you what you want, even if it's against his better judgement.
Afterwards, you see the shock and self-loathing written on his face when he sees that he's given you a few bruises on your hips in the shape of his hands. Once again, he hurt something precious to him. As he's running you a bath, he's swearing to himself never again.
And then you tell him "I love it when you mark me, Enji. Makes me feel like I'm yours." He watches with confusion on his face as you lightly trace the fresh bruises, your voice taking on a reverent tone. "I'll look at these later and get all wet again remembering how I got them."
Your confession almost breaks him, turns him into a puddle on the floor of his master bathroom suite. Something hungry flares in his gut and threatens to consume him. "Careful, darling. Or I'll want to give you more..." He treads carefully, scared that this is some crazy dream.
The devilish smile you give him makes the large man sputter and his face heat up. "How about you give me some on my ass this time?"
#enji todoroki#enji todoroki x reader#enji smut#endeavor smut#endeavor x reader#bnha smut#mha smut#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bun writes#working on a full version of this
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A/N: Finally some (slow) action with Neighbour!Hotch <333 Thank you so much for being so enthusiastic with my blurbs, it really means a lot ♡
"I think your Dad wouldn't be happy if he came home now and you weren't asleep, Jack."
You had been arguing with the child for so long now, because the day filled with fun activities you had planned for him apparently did not tire him out.
Jack looked at you with pouty lips and teary eyes.
"Not sleepy!"
"Maybe we could both go to your room, and I could tuck you into bed and read you a fun story? Your Dad wants you to go to bed early tonight, you have school tomorrow!"
"Daddy told me t'was okay to play late!" The child argued.
"I certainly did not."
You both jumped at the sudden arrival of Hotch, a tiny smile making its apparition on your lips. Aaron crossed is arms, his shirt and tie all messed up by the long flight, and you had to mentally fight yourself to keep your eyes on his face.
"Jack, it's 9pm. Let's tuck you into bed, Buddy."
He took Jack's hand and led him upstairs, leaving you all alone in the living room. You were accustomed to this routine, and simply sat into the couch, waiting for Aaron to come back as you would both talk about your days. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, depending on the day he had and on the schedule you would have the following day. So you took your phone out, quickly responding to some messages, your best friend harassing you to get some news about the "sexy neighbour situation", and urging you to make a move.
It took some time for Aaron to go downstairs, as Jack was still filled with energy, but he ended up coming back to you, two glasses in his hand. You could immediatly smell your favorite drink in the glass, and a big smile graced your face.
"How was work this morning?"
Aaron was the one asking. You usually did not ask, but let him tell you what he wanted to share. There was no need to remind him of the horrors he had seen throughout the day.
"Boring. There was some drama with someone I already told you about though... You're gonna be shocked!"
Aaron watched with a smile as you animatedly told the story, almost dropping your glass many times out of excitation. He ended up softly taking the glass from your hands, placing it on the table near you to prevent the arriving accident. And when you finished your story, his eyes were wide.
"And she did that?"
You nodded enthusiastically, taking your glass back to have a sip.
"Yes! I told you, she really makes no sense! I wish you could visit her and profile her, because I really do not know how to deal with her."
Aaron laughed wholeheartedly at your remark.
"It would be a nice break from the people I usually profile!"
You laughed as well, and remembered your best friend's words as he placed a friendly hand on your knee.
"Anyway, how was Jack?"
"Kind and fun, as always. Fell in the park this morning, but he took it like a champ!"
"He told me you bought him Pokemon bandaids just to comfort him."
You nodded, responding wisely.
"There's no injury that cannot be patched up by some cartoon bandaids."
"Well, Jack is definitely on your side on this one!"
You both fell into a comfortable silence, sipping out of your glasses, and trying to discreetely look at the other (and pathetically failing).
"Thank you so much for babysitting Jack so often." Aaron broke the silence, and you smiled at him.
"It's no problem, really! Jack is such a sweet child."
"And he loves you as well. Told me he wouldn't be mad if you became his new parent."
Your eyes widened and Aaron snickered. Maybe you were helped by your best friend's words, maybe you were just feeling brave, but you said without thinking:
"Maybe take me to dinner first, and I'll think about it!"
He stopped laughing for a few seconds, apparently not expecting you to react like that (take that, mister profiler!). And he shrugged, always a confident man.
"I would love to, to be honest. How about tomorrow night, if you are free?"
It had taken him one look at your face and nervous hands, to guess you were only half joking. And he had immediatly jumped into the rare occasion.
"My coworker recommanded me this charming italian restaurant, that I promised him to try anyway."
You nodded, a sudden need to pinch yourself to check if you were dreaming.
"It would be a pleasure!"
He smiled at your words, and you cleared your throat to gain some contenance back.
"8pm, tomorrow?"
"That's perfect!"
He smiled, and you slowly rose up from the couch. Now that you had earned yourself an obligatory two hours phone call with your best friend, you had to leave early.
"Maybe I'm going to get back to my house, you had a long day, and I am getting tired."
This wasn't a lie, Jack really was a dynamic child.
"But thank you so much for the invitation! I really cannot wait."
He walked to his door with you, and placed a hand on the side of your face as he kissed the other cheek.
"Good night, Y/N."
You smiled back, looking at him directly in the eyes.
"Good night, Aaron."
He watched as you walked back to your house, only closing his door when he was sure you were home.
#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds headcanons#criminal minds imagine#aaron hotchner fluff#bun writes
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Hallo! im new here so please let me know if i cross any boundries.'
anywho, I was wondering if i could request a platonic philza and/or techno comfort? ive had bad few days :(
Have a wonderful day/night!
I APOLOGIZE FOR GETTING TO THIS SO LATE!! I literally love dsmp asks even though the fandom is dying off, so this definitely isn’t crossing any boundaries! I hope you’re doing better. My dms are open if you ever need to chat! :D
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
Character(s): Philza, Technoblade (ft. Mumza & Chat)
Fandom(s): DreamSMP
Reader: Gender neutral (you/your)
Style: Hcs
TW: N/A
Summary: How Philza and Technoblade (separate) would comfort you!
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
Philza:
I feel like he’s the type to just know you aren’t doing well before you even say anything.
Like, you’re just sitting there in your feels, then suddenly?
BOOM CONCERNED DAD RIGHT IN YOUR FACE
“Are you okay, mate?”
“Do you need anything?”
“Here, let’s sit and have a chat.”
Literally shooing chat away so it’s just the two of you having quality time together.
Would sit down next to you on a couch, but probably wouldn’t initiate any touching. The most I see him doing is a shoulder pat or a hand rubbing your back.
Of course, he wouldn’t mind you leaning on him or embracing him! He just doesn’t want to touch you in case you want your space :)
If you want to talk about it he’s there to listen and offer wise old man advice (if you call him old while you’re upset, it’s the ONE time he won’t get defensive about it)
Like
He’s just talking giving you some advice about your problems, then he hears you snickering
“What’s so funny?”
“You sound so old right now, Phil.”
Usually he’d shout his usual “I’M NOT OLD/I’m only in my 30’s, mate…” (I’m pretty sure he’s canonically thousands of years old but shh let grandpa be delusional)
But now? He’d just chuckle and shake his head
“Whatever you say, mate.”
DON’T EXPECT HIM TO BE SOFT FOREVER, IT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU’RE CURRENTLY SAD
After you’ve concluded your venting/told him that you don’t want to talk about it
You know what time it is…
DISTRACTIONS!!!
Pillow fort anyone? He’s giving pillow fort vibes.
He’s a dad, so obviously he’d just do all the work and build it for you. Again, only because you’re sad. Any other time he’d yell at you for not helping.
Speaking of sadness
Don’t let Phil’s wife see you sad…
OH NO YOU’RE SAD? NOW MUMZA IS SAD AND IS RUSHING TO COMFORT YOU
Mumza is the type to cry when she sees someone else crying, so now both of you are just sobbing together and Phil is there trying to comfort the two of you but is an overwhelmed old man and may end up crying himself
Uh… cry party?
Either you all end up making fun of each other for crying which results in you all laughing together, or you just cry till you get sleepy and pass out on the floor together.
What an interesting way to family bond.
Technoblade:
So you seek The Blade for comfort, the most monochrome and nonchalant man on the server. What a wonderful decision, reader! /lh (I’d do the exact same)
If you’re a Technoblade fan you’ve definitely heard the “it’s fine” audio.
Now I can either be wholesome and say he’d hold you close and whisper that everything will be okay to you
Or I can be silly and realistic and say that he’d pull out a phone and just play the audio with a blank face, but is laughing on the inside due to your “what the actual fuck” face.
Okay now for some actual comfort!
As we all know… Technoblade isn’t exactly good at comfort.
He kills orphans for a living, how do you think he’d react seeing someone crying like a child?
He’s standing looking at you with a look of “why is this creature screaming” and “wtf do I do”
“Uh… you good? You okay? You, uh… need a hug…?”
Very awkwardly holds his arms out for a hug, and if you accept, he even more awkwardly pats your back.
If you got his shirt wet with tears, he’d DEFINITELY comment about it
“Are you seriously ruining my shirt? How are my enemies supposed to think I have a good fashion sense now?!”
Goes into a rant about how he needs to look his best and how it’s a good strategy to beat his enemies in battle while you’re kinda just there… honestly are you even crying anymore?
You’ve stopped crying ages ago, and he’s still just talking
In conclusion, Technoblade is good at calming people down without even trying (I was literally having a breakdown and all I needed to do was listen to the silly pig man talk about Greek mythology. It must all be part of his master plan…)
Speaking of listening to his voice, here’s a scenario.
“Technoblade, can you read to me?”
“…what?”
“Read to me.”
“I’m not reading you a bedtime stor-“
“I wanted you to tell me about Greek mythology.”
“Fine. Come here.”
Long story short, he starts by reading you just one story. That one story turns into the entire history of the Greek gods and goddesses… yeah you pass out pretty quickly. But Technoblade isn’t one to stop mid-ramble. Once he notices you’re asleep, he’ll continue talking, just quieter. He’ll eventually get sleepy himself, and soon enough… you’re both asleep.
Works like a charm!
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
#bun asks#bun writes#technoblade x y/n#technoblade x you#technoblade x reader#technoblade fluff#philza x reader#philza#philza minecraft#philza x kristen#dreamsmp x reader#dreamsmp x you#dreamsmp#mumza#dsmp fluff#dsmp x you#dsmp x reader#dsmp x y/n#comfort fic
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🔹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:
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#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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violent delights with destructive ends
attack on titan ⊹ levi x afab!reader ⊹ 3.5k
mature content ( MDNI! ), sub!levi, reader is erwin's sister, you're gonna feel bad for levi in the end. mention of canon deaths
dark content warnings: gaslighting, manipulation, brief dub-con, fleeting breeding thoughts
author’s note: sub!levi isn't going to be a frequent theme on my blog, but i hope you enjoy :)
being humanity's strongest soldier isn't an easy feat. the burden on levi's shoulders often outweighs his small frame and he's left to mourn for each of his lost cadets and comrades in the privacy of his room, away from any watching eyes. if one were to ask around the base if captain levi even cares about losing any soldiers, they would all say that lives are just numbers to the captain and that he's the one that often has to tell them to leave the corpses when there's no more room in wagons. levi couldn't care less about his image or what anyone else says about him, just as long as he had you.
it was a brutal battle and you only heard of the news from hange a few minutes before the rest of the survey corps arrived, almost halved in number and all cadets looking rather grim. your eyes immediately search for a pair of onyx ones and once the tired pair lock with yours, you breathe a sigh of relief before seeking a pair of icy blue next. once your older brother's life is also secured, you make your way upstairs to levi's bedroom where you expect he'd come first.
you joined the survey corps to follow in your brother's footsteps as a skilled cadet and eventual captain or commander, but you're much more uncoordinated and served to be quite a disappointment. rather than make you a liability on the field, you were crowned the title of base maintenance worker where you thrived in cleaning and... that was about it. the only good thing to come out of your new line of work was the approval you'd receive from captain levi every time you cleaned his sleeping quarters; it started with a curt nod of his head, then a polite smile, then to him helping you out so you have less work to do, and during your time together, you would shoot questions back and forth to get to know each other, even the hard hitting ones like those about parents, life before committing to the survey corps. finding out you were erwin's little sister was a fact that had him avoiding you for a full week as he tried to balance out the pros and cons of getting involved with someone so dear to the commander. in the end, the urge to kiss you when you giggled about the silliest things took over and he decided that none of the negative reasons he listed even mattered, as long as you two were able to keep it a secret from the broad blond.
the doorknob turns slowly and levi's heavy heart takes a moment before he can push the door open to greet you. at first, his smile is faint and ingenuine, but seeing you, standing in his room and alive... he all but runs to you and wraps his arms suffocatingly tight around your waist, face nuzzled into your neck.
"hard day?" you whisper, already knowing the answer. levi's head bobs in confirmation against your skin and you hold him just as hard, squeezing him against you. "but you're okay, sweetheart — we're okay."
such a selfish way to think and if the other cadets or the family of the deceased heard, they would riot, but it was the hard truth. without levi, what chance did humanity have in surviving? and without you, what would levi live for? he's admitted out loud that he wouldn't want to continue on if you were to die, and the first time he said that was when you had stopped asking erwin to put you in battle.
as years dragged on, there was less and less reason for levi ( or any other captain for that matter ) to learn the names of new recruits when they would most likely be gone within a few months, and as much as the stoic captain would like to deny, it's taken a big toll on his morale. losing his friends in groups, one by one, all at once until only erwin and hange remained... he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. but then he sees you and he thinks, "maybe one more battle..."
"maybe this is it for humankind... we should just run away and live where the government and titans can't reach us... even if they do, i'll kill them all," levi's words are muffled against your neck, but you get most of them.
"i never knew you were the type to abandon your post like that, captain. isn't that treason?" your voice has a playful lilt to it, but when levi pulls back to meet your gaze, you see the sadness and grief that pours out of them, yet with no tears to accompany those feelings. "baby," you whisper, quickly leading him to the bed before you turn to close and lock the door — the last thing he needs is to get caught alone with you.
levi's gaze with you is always warm and full of adoration, but he seems... lifeless, even his arms just limp at his sides and his shoulders slumped into horrible posture — a red flag if you've ever seen one.
"i don't want to do this anymore," he finally chokes out. "petra... eld, oluo.. how many more do i have to lose? if erwin dies, how can i ever face you again?" shaky hands lift to hold his hanging head and his chest heaves to release a dry sob.
your heart aches at the sight of the man that's held himself together for the sake of his subordinates and watching him unravel only for you makes guilt wring at your chest.
"you come back and tell me because i'll always be here, even if erwin isn't. when you go out to each expedition, you're going to protect everyone, yes, but you're protecting me the most, and isn't that what you want? if you give up, i'd have to go in your place and i'd lose my life before i even get to the titans. i wanna elope with you, just build a farm in the middle of nowhere... but you know i can't when erwin is the commander here..." you climb on the bed and lean your back against the headboard, patting the empty seat beside you. levi follows suit and you're quick to sit in his lap so his hands can only hold you, which they do, his arms constricting around your waist to keep your as close as he can. "the best you can do is put on a brave face and continue what you're doing, sweetheart."
his gaze is forlorn and he knows that you're right, that his dream of running away with you is just that — a fantasy that can never become reality. even when he want to pretend, you tether him to the real world and make sure he doesn't get too lost and drift away. as he holds you in his embrace and feels the warmth of your skin seep through your thin clothes, he thinks that maybe it isn't a bad thing to be right here with you.
"you're right," he admits, a smile starting to twitch at the corners of his lips. you're quick to reach and give him a kiss, a set of fingers carding through his charcoal locks to pull him in deeper. he's missed you and your wet lips bring him more comfort than he could have asked for, his mouth greedily parting to shove his tongue against yours as he begins to undress you. he knows what he's allowed to do and makes sure he only takes off your shirt, leaving your bra and tight pants where they are — those are for you to decide if he deserves to see them off. "i'm sorry for saying such stupid things." he seems to find solace on your chest, his cheek smushed on your tits so your plush flesh can bring him to comfort it usually does. his lungs breathe in your scent and it's as if his mind forgets the image of broken bodies and his friends' lifeless faces; instead, he's in a warm field with your hands stroking his blood-matted hair ( none of it being his own, thank god ), and he's happy.
"not stupid, baby... just untimely. perhaps the day comes when it can come true." you hate lying to him. doesn't humanity's only hope deserve much better than broken promises and to be strung along with little crumbs of an impossible future? "let me help you feel better and clear your head."
when your warmth is peeled away from him, his frown returns ( he's feeling needier than usual, understandably ) and he leans his head back against the wood board, unsure if he has the strength to keep himself upright. "you don't have to today. i kind of just want to sleep," he mutters, eyes averting from yours, and for good reason. levi had never refused pleasure before.
but you know that he needs this, you know him better than he knows himself.
"levi," you only say his name during intimacy when he's done something wrong or you need him to answer you honestly. "are you sure?" your hands unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor, your pants and underwear dropped all at once with one hook and pull of your thumbs. you're sprawled out bare for him, a special treat, and you know that his body won't be able to stop itself from responding. the whimper he lets out is so sweet and your eyes have the pleasure of watching his cock twitch and fill up until it's pressed against the zipper of his slacks. "i think you might not have been telling me the truth."
your skilled hands undo the button and zipper to his bottoms and you pull them down and off his feet to join yours somewhere around the room. thin, long fingers unclasp each of the knobs to levi's own shirt and you watch him fold the fabric neatly before setting it down by the bed. his briefs are next to go and once he's just as exposed as you are, both of you take this chance to drink the sight of each other in. you admire each of his scars, some fresh and some dull with the completed recovery process, every single one a reminder that he's still alive and here for you. levi's eyes see an angel that decided to live on earth with curves just where he loves them, soft skin, and a smile that blows away any reason to feel anything but content — you are his everything, the only reason he's still fighting to wake up every morning.
"i love you," he whispers and you grin like he just gave you the whole world, making his heartbeat erratic.
"love you too, my dear." the hesitance he felt was nowhere to be found now and his length is weeping, though it was untouched, and he's no longer embarrassed to admit that just looking at you would be enough to bring him to completion — and if that isn't pure love, what is?
you have a ritual, a specific order you like to do things, and only on the rarest of occasions do you allow for any divergence, like today. rather than torture him with your nails scraping his nipples and your hand tight around his leaking head to edge him, you lean in and take his thick tip in your mouth. the instant warmth and wetness has levi confused and his pathetic whimpers, the scrambling of his hands to grab onto anything but your head lest he be left alone instantly, has your voice moaning around him. it was cute to see his icy demeanour melt in front of you and if anyone outside the door knew what a submissive puppy he was, perhaps he wouldn't be so feared by all.
your lips slide down to try and take all of him in, but making the stretch is a difficult feat. not only is he blessed with girth, but with length as well, and you aren't sure if you can even reach the base with his mouth, not that it stops you from trying. as levi's toes curl into the sheets, you lower yourself more and more, swallowing around the inches that are lodged in your throat and constricting around him similarly to when he knows you're about to cum, and the stimulation makes his mouth go slack, his hips rutting towards you all on their own. while you appreciate the enthusiasm, your hands firmly hold his hips down so you can go at your own pace, and finally, your nose nestles into the array of thick hair at his base and you smile up at him triumphantly, enjoying the sight of his blissful expression.
you take a few shaky and careful breaths through your nose before you do your best to swallow again and this time, he growls and you see him lift his hand towards your head, only to back away just before he actually touches you. god, what a good boy.
slowly, you begin to pull back, much to levi's dismay, and you release the coughs that were gathering in your chest, his calloused, rough hand running across your back to help. "thank you," he murmurs, and the glistening bead that drips out of the slit of his cock also shows his gratitude. he knows you don't particularly enjoy giving oral when is size is what it is, but you've never complained when you're greeted with his flushed cheeks and shy smile.
"we're not done, don't worry." with a gentle push of your hands off of the bed, you have him flush against the headboard once more and you carefully climb onto his lap, and it's only now that levi's desperation become more noticeable. his toned arms and tight grip of his hands could overpower you easily, he never has to play along with your rules, nor the edging that you inflict on him so often, and you notice more often now that he's holding back from doing whatever he wants to, like with his hand reaching for your hair earlier. he wouldn't want to jeopardise what you two have, and the thought of you leaving him is what keeps the little puppy obedient.
strong arms wrap around your waist and levi whimpers as he brings you closer, his mouth an inch away from your tits whilst your hand reaches down to position the tip of his cock in between your slick folds. "p-please... can i? i want to suck you in my mouth..."
you nod in approval and his zealous lips grab onto your nipple, sucking as if it was his last ever chance. the scraping of his teeth bring a sensation of pain and pleasure, one that's intensified as you sink down on top of his length, each dip lower and lower making your back arch and bring you closer to him. having his cock sucked feels damn nice, but when he slides into your sweet pussy and watches you become undone for him... nothing can beat out your expression, your lewd moans, and the feeling of your walls clench around him as if it was your first time, every time.
even from the beginning of your physical relationship, you've always teased levi, left him to have dry orgasms while edging him because you didn't want him to finish so early, but over time, you realised that the real reason was because you finish too quickly. his endless stamina comes from his physical ability to hunt titans for hours on end, but you do nothing other than lift brooms and buckets here, and added to the direct path that levi's cock has to the bundle of nerves buried inside of you is a dangerous equation.
too easily, his length is fully sheathed inside of you and levi moans out a mantra of your name as he tries his best to stay still, to keep from thrusting inside of you like he wants to, and as endearing as it is, as much as your curiosity seems to get to you from time to time, you make sure that he knows who's in charge. with each of your hands landing on his shoulders, you dig your nails into a few healing wounds, reopening the scars as you bounce on his length and make sure that you slam back down each time until you're sure that his weeping tip pushes harshly against that sweet bundle of nerves inside of you and all the way to your cervix. he fills you up perfectly, like two puzzle pieces created for each other the way his tip hits the end of your cavern just as you sink all the way down to his base.
how many bounces does it take for you to unravel today? levi counts every time and he loves when the number is less than ten, not because he's tired, but because he loves knowing that your body is so eager to finish for him, just as he is for you.
"levi," his name coming off your tongue sounds like the trumpets of heaven, "promise me," you breathe out. his chin tilts up to watch you and his eyes are wide as he listens intently.
"i swear," he says immediately, not even having to hear your request. "for you, anything." his eyes are glossed over and you know that he's close.
"promise you'll keep fighting, for me. don't give up, levi," your gaze locks onto his and your hips are unrelenting as your brows furrow and pressure starts to build inside your tummy.
calloused palms hold onto your waist and he leans in to capture your mouth for a hot kiss as he gives you the extra push you need to spill over the edge and onto him and onto the sheets. beads of sweat dripping down both of your foreheads and into the mess of your juices tainting his lap now, he follows right after you, spilling into you without any caution or worry — his biggest hope is to come back home from expeditions to see the swell of your belly full of his child.
"i promise, my love," is all he can say as he pulls back from the kiss, the smile of a man in pure bliss stretching from one side of his face to the other. "every battle is won for you," he mutters as the you climb off of his exhausted body, helping him lay in bed comfortably ( on the side untainted by the remnants of your sweet orgasm ) before he dozes off with a hand held tightly in yours.
once his tired snoring begin to reach your ears, you carefully pry your fingers away from his to get dressed and with a quick kiss to his sweaty forehead, you leave his quarters to find erwin next door. as if he was awaiting your arrival, he swings the entrance open before you knock, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
"you were right: he wanted to abandon the survey corps. i shut the idea down right away and he said he'll keep fighting from now on." watching erwin's smug grin makes your stomach feel uneasy and you sigh, chest feeling heavy. "i don't want to do this anymore, erwin... what if he finds out that you were controlling him this whole time?"
"come now, little sister. don't tell me you actually started loving him?" his voice is mocking, but you have no rebuttal — your cleaning schedule being manipulated to coincide with his free time would only be considered fate if fate took the form of a broad, blond man with crystal blue eyes. your own brother sold you to the survey corps to keep an eye out on their most important asset. "it's funny how you say that i'm the one manipulating him when, in fact, i gave you many chances to return to the safety of the walls. you're just as deep in this as i am, so i suggest keeping your act together. i doubt levi would be above slaughtering everyone in this base if he were to find out."
the door slams in your face and you scowl at just how right the big buffoon is about it all. you return to levi's room and undress once more to join him in bed, relinking your fingers together. his chest heaves evenly and rhythmically for once, finally feeling peace in his sleep, and your free digits trace the side of his face, unperturbed by the stresses and worries of being conscious. the fate of humanity rests in between your hands and it's your job to keep him happy, to keep him wanting to fight. no matter how much your heart tugs and pulls every time he proposes a plan to keep just the two of you safe, no matter how many times he whispers that he loves you whilst kissing each of your fingertips. if the truth were to ever come out, you would be crucified just like your brother and it was a risk you didn't want to take, but what choice do you have? you're a smith. manipulation is in your blood.
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Last line tag meme
Last line tag meme - tagged by @chocochipbiscuit
Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or the last wip you drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).
He knew too much of that woo-woo shit now, against his will.
From my new Cyberpunk fic, Bird on a Wire. Vik Vektor getting tarot readings via text from his landlord and making Decisions based on them that will Radically Alter the course of his life, whoops!
Thanks for the tag Choco!! Haven't done one of these in a while.
Tagging @wildwildwasteland @catboyrights @salamanderpie @totally-not-deacon @ragedaisy @ghoulghostly @vcaudley @threewhiskeylunch @butchzambo @laetan @wishing4nuclearwinter @newvegascowboy
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Brilla the adventurer was in a pinch. She and her party had fallen prey to a trap set by a horde of imps. They had taken her to a small villa, where the resident master - a succubus who called himself Xycthr - had her chained to a bed.
In all other circumstances, it wasn't the worst place to be. The bed was comfortable and the chains that held her wrist and leg were not terribly tight and allowed her some movement out of the bed (at least whenever the daemon returned to allow her bindings some slack).
But she was still a prisoner. She was fed meager meals of dried meats, soup and bread, never afforded any cutlery that could serve as a makeshift weapon.
She was afforded moments to pace around her room - under the watchful eye of a pair of imps who watched her with wanton lust.
The window in the room was large but she could not reach it whilst chained up, and the view of the countryside only served to reinforce her entrapment.
And then there were the visits from the master himself. Routinely, he would enter her chambers, clad in silks or leather and begin to have sex with her. No... it was more accurate to say that he fucked her.
Whether or not she had any say, his magicks ensured she was always ready; with a curl of his finger, he could make her member rigid and hard. Her body would quiver with need under his charms, her mind screaming in frustration all the while.
They would fuck many times over the course of a night, his pussy squeezing and sucking her member in. The warmth and tightness was enough to drive Brilla to the brink of insanity, all while the daemon would tease her body. Pulling her hair, leaving marks and hickies all along her shoulders and chest, biting her nipples, leaving dark lipstick marks along her stomach and thighs...
For anyone, it could be a dream.
For Brilla, it was a horrific cycle. Interminable boredom followed only by the nightly rape and torment at the hands of her captor.
And then, every night, Xycthr would make her cum. Her cries echoed through the villa as her cock pulsed and throbbed inside. His cunt would eagerly drink every drop of her semen, even as Brilla could see white milky drops slide out and down her aching shaft.
She could feel each orgasm take its toll as well. She was well aware of the succubus' ability to steal the life of their victims through the act of intercourse. This, however, was far worse than she could have anticipated.
Each time she was made to spill her seed inside him, she could feel part of herself being whisked away. As the days wore on, she saw her muscles begin to fade. She tried to do drills with whatever free movement she was given, just to pass the time, and yet every day it felt harder...more difficult to remember them. She caught herself second guessing the order or the movement, the image of her sword in her mind's eye growing more and more unclear.
Her memories of her life became vague as well. Days spent hunting wild animals for game or for food; carousing with allies long since gone. Her head grew fuzzier as thoughts became difficult to hang onto. At times, it felt like an effort to even remember that she was an adventurer.
All of these days passed in a haze, and her body grew accustomed to its current role as captive sex slave. Brilla would often wake up in the morning to find her cock erect, peppering the sheets with drops of precum. On some days, she spent all day masturbating, edging herself in whatever ways possible. She could never cum, of course, not without him to tell her to. It was his magic, after all.
So she would wait, becoming more and more lost in a haze of need and temptation. She almost anticipated, no, looked forward to seeing the Master when he would visit her chambers and fuck her into oblivion.
And so the days went on, again and again. She...Brilla would endure, no matter how good it felt to be used as a living sex toy.
Eventually, the prisoner...no, the slave? By now, she had forgotten her name. Whoever she was, she was panting, kneeling in bed with one hand pawing at her breast and the other furiously beating her meat red raw. Droplets of saliva dripped down her tongue and onto her thighs and fist as she edged herself, again and again, waiting for Master to come.
And he did, as she knew he would. This time, he was not alone. He was holding a chain that was fastened to a collar around a naked figure. Slave thought that this person was vaguely familiar.
"Come, pet."
Xycthr's command struck sharp in her mind, his deep voice rolling in her thoughts. She stumbled off the bed and stood before him, still fucking her fist as he looked up at her. He chuckled.
"Do you only have eyes for me now? Or don't you recognise your companion?"
Slave thought for a moment, as she looked at Master, then at the other figure. Companion...was that their name? Their face was flushed and they were pawing at their crotch.
"You two are pathetic. Lower than even my imps. I suppose they deserve a good toy, as a treat for their hard work. But, which one do I give them...and which do I keep?"
Slave's voice burst forth with a moan. But it was the other figure who spoke first:
"Please, keep me! Please, Master, I am yours, please, please, please."
They begged, grabbing at the daemon's silken outfit. The demon shoved them off, not with a great deal of force, but enough to push them to the floor.
"Such a desperate little thing, aren't you? Although I guess you two have that in common...nothing left to yourselves but empty heads full of cum and sex, isn't that right?"
Slave groaned again, as if in affirmation.
Her cock dripped precum on the floor as she stared fixedly at the Master's lips.
"On your knees, both of you. Show me which of you is better fit to be my new toy..."
Slave's head whirled as she instantly dropped down, her hand never leaving her shaft. The other figure scrambled to the front, kneeling beside her as the daemon undressed to reveal his moist, dripping slit.
The two adventurers-turned-sex-object drooled just as much, their tongues falling out of their mouth.
"Get to it. The first one to make me cum wins a place at my side. The loser gets thrown to the imps."
The two scrambled for purchase. Slave was a tad slower, owing to one of her hands being used to pump her shaft. The other shoved their face into Master's cunt and began licking desperately.
Slave slowly crawled around, until she found her target: Master's other hole, winking at her. Taking hold of his thigh with one hand, she threw herself into his cheeks, worshipping his backdoor with fervour.
Slave's mind grew quieter still as she continued to lick, suck, kiss, pump; the pleasure enveloping her being. She didn't know anything else, other than being Master's toy.
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OC-tober Day 5: Relationships
oc's: Dimitri and Pence
The constant, quiet music of bugs chirping into the humid summer night was the only companion to the crackle of the fire that Dimitri was keeping stoked. The scent of food still lingered softly, and the tiny bones of the fish Pence had caught earlier in the evening for their dinner sat to the side, discarded.
There wasn't much else to do, and they'd likely both turn in for the night soon. But despite this, Pence was anxious. It had been over a year of them traveling together now, and every day he became more worried that she'd needle out his secret. And then he'd lose the only person who'd ever cared about him..
So lately, he had taken to asking her the occassional mild question, or presenting a hypothetical when faced with a specific situation. Like a test, prodding how well she reacted. Part of him didn't want to address it right now, but..
"You don't always have to handle the fire," he brought up, and he knew he'd caught her attention by the way Dimitri's fingers twitched around the prod. "I know you don't have fond memories.."
The only thing that met his ears was the sound of her scoffing, but the sweet notes of her voice were unable to make any negative emotion rise in him. He knew she wasn't being mean, simply intending to brush aside his worries.
"I can manage a camp fire, Penny. Don't worry." But she notably went quiet as she picked at the middle, where the embers sizzled. It would die soon, if more wood wasn't added. Time to bite the bullet.
"Do you still.. I mean, I know it's been a long time now, but would you ever.."
This isn't what I wanted to ask, he thought to himself as he watched Dimitri's head turn towards him. Her big, ruby red eyes glowed brightly in the firelight. He had never felt more like prey than when he was under her gaze. But he had never quite been as okay with that, either. If anyone was to devour him whole, he wanted it to be her. No matter what kind of pretense it was under.
To his surprise, she shifted a little closer to him on the felled tree they sat on, resting her head on his shoulder. He held his breath. Her eyes drifted shut, chest raising and falling slowly. For a long time he wondered if she was asleep. Enough time certainly passed to validate his pondering.
"I try not to think about it," she started, her voice a low murmur. The sound of the night around them almost drowned it out.
"I try not to think about him. Or love, in general. I don't know where life will take me from here on out, or what will happen on my journey. But right now.." He felt one of her soft hands settle over his own. They were so much warmer than his.
"I don't need anything else."
Pence swallowed thickly. His hand curled delicately around her own before he let his head rest against hers.
He had to agree. He didn't need anything else either.
#bun writes#oc tober#oc tober 2023#oc-tober#oc: dimitri#oc: pence the pierrot#october prompt#writing prompt#drabble#original writing#unrequited love
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Imagine Gojo buys you a sybian to sit on while he and Geto watch and take turns with the remote control. Gojo would be an asshole and turn it up super high to watch you shake and scream while trying not to cum within moments of sitting down.
Geto would tell Gojo to go easy on you. "You're gonna overstimulate her and we only just started! I thought you wanted to draw this out."
Gojo would have this malicious glint in his eyes and a dangerous edge to his voice as he says "Yeah but I wanna see her cry." Before turning the device up to the highest setting, his smirk widening as you nearly shriek and immediately cum in your panties, the device doing nothing to hide how absolutely soaked you are.
Once Geto sees how good you look crying and begging for them to ease up, it's all over for you 🤷🏾♀️
#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu geto#suguru geto#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jjk thirst#jjk smut#jjk x reader#geto smut#gojo smut#dacryphilia#buntalk#bun writes
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Daryl dating the team's herbalist >>>
A/N: Just warning you, it's quite long this time! :')
He would have met you in the woods, during the prison era. You both went for the same bush of blackberries, the archer immediatly going for his crossbow. You rose your hands in the air, insisting on the fact you weren't a threat.
"I won't try to hurt you. Matter of fact, the only weapon I got on me is a knife, and that's for the eaters."
He usually wasn't this easy-going, but for some reason he trusted you. You watched as he put his crossbow back.
"Are ya alone?"
You nodded without thinking, getting some more blackberries in the pockets of your apron.
"And you, are you alone?"
"I got a group, a few miles from here."
He did not try and tell you where it was. To be fair, you did not really care. You only wanted to go home and make some blackberry jam with the sugar you had.
"Well, I wish you the best on your way back." You smiled at him, quickly getting away.
The apocalypse really helped you understanding the importance of the concept of "stranger danger". You quickly went back home, checking behind your shoulder a few times to make sure the archer wasn't following you.
○
A few days later, you came back to the same place, harvesting some plantain to make a homemade balm. You did not notice the eater slowly walking behind you, and when you finally saw him, it was too late. His rotten teeth kept clicking, and he was missing an eye. The view was truly horrifying, you could not help but let out a terrified scream, trying to get your knife in the large pockets of your apron. And as you could feel the creature's fetid breath on your skin, kicking his knees and stomach with all of your might, it suddenly fell down on its side.
You flinched as it touched the floor, and gave it a scared look. An arrow was placed in its head.
"Are ya bitten?"
You saw the archer, running towards you with a scared look. You could not respond yet, your heart apparently trying to get out of your chest. Trying to get a proper breathing cycle back was hard, and you felt tears on your cheeks.
"Are ya bitten?" He repeated, almost screaming at you.
You managed to shake your head, and he let out a sigh of relief. He kneeled at your level, seemingly kinder than before.
"Ya really should get some more weapon."
You let out a scared sob. The archer was awkward to your side, having no idea of what he was supposed to do. "Rick would have given them a hug", he thought. "And Carol would have tried inviting 'em home."
"Do ya want me to walk you home?"
You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, trying to gain some contenance.
"It's okay, I can do it."
You got up on shaky legs, obviously not fine. And Daryl let his inner Carol speak for him.
"If ya don't wanna be alone... I'm from the prison outside the forest, three miles from here... Our leader is nice and ya obviously have some plant skills, you'd be useful."
"That sounds great." You said with a soft, raspy voice.
Being alone was starting to get hard, and there was only so many books and magazines you could find during your short runs outside of the forest. You turned to Daryl.
"I live near here, I have many useful remedies that could be useful to your group. Will you help me bring them there?"
He silently nodded, and followed you home.
○
It took you a few days to be fully integrated in the group. Everyone deemed your skills useful, and soon enough you became Daryl's hunting partner. Your duo was cute, with him and his hunting gear, and you and your homemade apron filled with pockets, paper bags, and plastic containers. You would always come back with food for everyone, and your contribution to the medicine cabinet was appreciated by everyone.
○
It took two years for Daryl to dare asking you to be his partner. It was after the horrors of Terminus, and after seeing you almost get eaten by the cannibals. You obviously immediatly said yes, and nothing changed. He always teased you like he used to do before. The only slight difference was the few kisses you shared behind closed doors, and the numbers of runs augmenting.
○
Here's some small headcanons about your relationship:
You would have made him some relieving balm for his aching hunter muscle, and he would be so grateful for that. You would probably have to rub it on him yourself (just like you'd have to fight to patch him up, the man being a firm believer of the "it'll heal itself" theory), but after he saw how much it helped, he always remembered to carry some with him.
You taught him to recognize some important plants during your runs, and now, if for some reasons you cannot go with him, he would bring back handful of those plants to you.
If people are mean to Daryl or your group, you get them slightly sick. It took only one look at Spencer being a jerk to Glenn for you to give him a piece of vomiting-inducing chocolate that made him sick for the whole night. You're a healer first, but poisoner comes close second. And although Daryl is not feeling his best when you first arrive in Alexandria, the story would have made him snicker.
Daryl would be so comforted by your smell after a day spent making remedies. You smelled like the forest, and looked so cute covered in plant parts and berry stains. It was one of his favorite smells in the world.
Judith would look up to you so much!! She spent her whole childhood making remedies with you, or on your lap, listening attentively to your explainations of which plants are good and which are not. She would try and bring you some plants as well. And sometimes go on small runs with Daryl, and pick up some plants you mentioned you needed. It was so cute to watch her come back, her cowboy hat filled to the rim with herbs!
Daryl is also the one patching up the pockets of your apron!!! When you get caught in spiky bushes, or when you accidentally rip one of your pockets, you always somehow find it repaired the next day. One day, you finally catch Daryl on the act, a needle between his teeth as he would carefully examine your favorite apron, to see if anything needed repairing.
He's also so impressed when he sees you making up a remedy on the go. Once, he sees you scratch your knee after you fell down in the forest (and he laughed at you so hard, before even asking if you were okay), and immediatly make a remedy out of the plant you fell on in two minutes, and he had the most lovesick look on his face ever as he watched you apply it.
#he's so cute 😭😭😭#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl x reader#the walking dead imagine#bun writes
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Hi, could I request fluff Ink demon x crush reader, Where ink demon has a crush on reader, you can make it head canon whatever you like ( And sorry if my grammar is not good English isn’t my first language)
No need to apologize! Thank you so much for the request, hope you enjoy!
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
Fandom: Bendy and the Dark Revival
Character(s): Bendy/Ink Demon
Reader: Gender neutral
TW: Mention of murder and abuse/torture
Style: Hcs
Summary: You’re the first person to ever show Bendy kindness, and treat him as if he weren’t a monster. He quickly becomes attached to you.
Instead of being part ink like Audrey, you were completely human like Henry.
You met Bendy whilst walking around the studio. He was in his cartoon form sitting on the floor, and you noticed how sad he looked.
“Bendy?…”
He jumped and looked up, getting ready to run. You slowly walked closer, putting your hands up to show you weren’t a threat.
“Hey, I won’t hurt you…” You crouched in front of him, holding your hand out to him. He smiled and grabbed it, the two of you intertwining your fingers together. You smiled and put your free hand on his head, gently rubbing it.
“You looked upset, what’s the matter?” He frowned, looking at the floor.
“Can’t talk?” He shook his head, looking upset again.
“That’s alright!” You hugged him, and he completely froze. You quickly pulled away, apologizing over and over, not wanting to make the demon uncomfortable. But then he smiled and jumped onto your lap, hugging you tightly. Before you could hug him back, the door was slammed open, and a Lost One barged in, looking directly at Bendy.
“Demon!! I’ll kill you!”
You being the protective person you are, quickly get up and grab the demon’s hand, pulling him behind you with a gent pipe in your other hand. The Lost One runs at you, and you swing your pipe, soon killing it after a few hits. You didn’t realize that Bendy had ran off, and when you turned around after looting the corpse, you grew worried. Had another Lost One came and took him whilst you were distracted? You ran around calling his name, looking everywhere for him. Little did you know he had hid in the vents, watching you fight. He was amazed that someone would protect him, risking their life for him. He needed more of you. But first, he had to return before Wilson realized he was missing.
You had eventually given up, continuing to roam the studio and survive. Though Bendy stayed in your mind. You only knew him for a few moments, but you missed him dearly. He was so sweet. And you couldn’t stand the fact that people were attacking him. Whilst you were sitting on a couch, lost in thought, Bendy was walking up behind you. It was time you knew the truth, and what he really was, so you would finally fear and hate him. He turned into his ink demon form, and watched as you snapped back to reality, noticing ink beginning to cover the floors and walls. You stood up, starting to panic. Was the studio flooding? Then you heard a growl in your ear, which caused you to freeze as a shiver ran down your spine.
You turned around and craned your neck up, staring into the Ink Demon. You quickly remembered those horns, and that bowtie, and that all too familiar smile.
“Bendy?”
“(Y/N)… I’m not who you think I am..” His deep, rough voice echoed all around you, yet you showed no signs of fear. You looked at him as though his appearance never changed, and listened to him closely.
“I am… the Ink Demon, who everyone knows and fears.” You laughed a bit.
“Yeah, I can see that.” You teased. If he could frown in this form, he would.
“Why aren’t you scared?…”
“Why would I be? You aren’t hurting me.”
He growled and roughly picked you up and pulled you close to his face.
“I could easily kill you right now if I wanted.”
“Yet you aren’t.” You smiled and rubbed his head, just like you did the first time you two met. This wasn’t right. You’re supposed to be begging for your life! Yet here you are, content as ever, rubbing his horns and smiling just as big as he was. When you touched a certain spot on his horns, he began to purr, loosening his grip on you and visibly relaxing. You let out an “aww!” and continued to rub that spot. He sat down, and you made yourself comfortable on his thigh, continuing to shower the grinning demon in affection.
He finally snapped back to reality and growled, pushing you off him and running off. Though the pain of being smacked into a wall was the least of your worries. Did you make him uncomfortable? You already missed him. Hopefully he’d come back soon.
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
Okay this one was super fun to write. 😭💕 If you guys want a part 2 let me know!
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welcome to
⚡ Welcome to Bun's Cockstop! This is a place where I thirst over cute dirty old men! Most of my works can also be found on AO3 (here).
⚡ My name is Bun/Bunny. I go by any pronouns.
⚡ I do not write RPF (real person fiction). That said, any kind of drama mongering, moral policing and other purity culture bullshit is not welcome on my blog. At best, I will block you; if you annoy me enough, I just might be inclined to prove your opinion wrong (with citations).
⚡ I am pro-ship, pro-dark!fic, I think sex work is work, I don't support communism (and Russia! seriously, GTFO) and I support the death penalty for crimes against children. If you find yourself wanting to argue w/me about these topics, don't waste our time and block me.
⚡ I communicate in English and Russian and understand several more assorted languages. Don't be shy and say hello 😌 This is my Spotify <3 😌
⚡ My blog is meant for an adult audience. It will contain topics such as sex and various kinks, drugs, trauma, queer stuff and lots of rock-'n'-roll. All the things I post are tagged accordingly, therefore it is your responsibility to block the tags/blacklist the content you do not wish to see. You choose the content you consume & I am not here to babysit.
⚡ a post with fic author recs for stephen-tony-bruce
⚡ masterlist below spoiler ⚡
stories marked with an asterisk* contain adult content
⚡ multichapter fics ⚡
party favours [AO3 link] | tony stark x bruce banner x stephen strange x reader ot4) | explicit | ~120k words | completed
practical alchemy [AO3 link] | witch!reader x established!ironstrange | explicit | in progress (hiatus)
black dog [AO3 link] | badass!reader x negan (twd) | explicit | in progress, 1/3 done
⚡one-shots⚡
tony stark | doll parts | skin starving | butt dial? no, booty call* | degradation* (dubcon) | teasing tony | nerd fishing* | love letter* (dd/lg) | bad day* | trust issues | stitches | sticky sweet* |
helmut zemo | marmalade taffy* |
bruce banner | emotional support nerd* | bondage* | lab delights* | spoiled | blindfolds & edging* | you've seen the butcher* |
stephen strange | dr. feelgood* (as seen on tiktok) | touch me i'm sick* | spellbound* | brat & restraints* | aftercare | mean!dom* (gender neutral reader) | inappropriate use of the eye of agamotto* | selfship drabbles - oral fixation, more horny brainrot | spitfire* | dazed & confused* | year after year | the leg thing* | hand/size kink* |
sam wilson | bad touch* | violent delights* (content warning) |
loki | if life gives you melons* | bondage* (nb reader, they/them) | snow day* (male reader)
natasha romanoff | hot wheels* |
wanda maximoff | caught |
bucky barnes | bother figure (daughter!reader) |
thor | idunn's apples | hired man* (dubcon) | beloved, bejeweled |
otto octavius / doc ock | horny headcanons* | i want to kill you like they do in the movies - part 1 - part 2* - part 3* (fin) |
steve rogers | it drives me wild* |
daryl dixon | cherry - part 1 - part 2* (coming soon) | untitled* | dirt* |
⚡ blurb series ⚡
daddy!ironstrange - daddy lessons* | part one | part two |
rickyl - part one*
#bun writes#masterlist#mcu masterlist#avengers masterlist#mcu smut#mcu fluff#tony stark x reader#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange smut#tony stark smut#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#bruce banner x reader#bruce banner smut#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson smut#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#loki x reader#loki smut#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo smut#negan x reader#rickyl x reader#daryl dixon x reader
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Little Painter
first fic woooo !!!
based on these posts 1, 2, by @little-froglight!
fandom: Empires SMP (s1)
characters: moth hybrid!little!Joel
372 words, no warnings
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joel stepped back from the wall of his palace, looking his work up and down. The bright orange wall was smeared in pinks and greens, resembling various plants and bugs. His wings fluttered happily looking it over, lifting him off the ground for a second before he dropped again, stumbling a bit.
The short moth hybrid soon noticed a gross, dry feeling on his hands. Looking at them, the dye which nearly coated past his wrists had quickly begun to dry in the mesa heat. He flicked his hands with a small noise of discomfort, but the stupid colors refused to come off! He huffed, sticking out his tongue in a pout. He had to guess the quickly drying dye was on his face too, as the same yucky feeling was present there.
He wasn’t sure what to do, as he never liked getting wet. It made his wings feel heavy, and his clothes stuck to his skin in a gross manner. He huffed again, before going around into the palace to find something that could help. The palace was huge, and mostly filled with empty corridors and large, unused rooms.
Joel had tried to find the bathroom, to begrudgingly wipe off some of the dye, but got distracted by a disgustingly plain wall in the hallway, and in a matter of seconds the little moth was already back to work. The wall was mostly pink with green around the sides, so he used his blues and oranges to paint. He got so absorbed in his work, he didn’t even notice he was only adding more dye to his skin.
After a while, he slowed in his painting, suddenly it wasn’t as fun as he quickly became aware of everything again. He never noticed the fog was there until it was gone, as usual.
Joel stepped back, looking over the wall, then himself. He sighed, realizing all the cleaning he’d have to do, now big again. The king figured it best to go clean himself up first, he could clean the walls later. He just hoped no one visited before then, the stupid drawings were so embarrassing.
…well, not that he’d ever stop his little self from doing it if he could.
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If It Be Your Will
Chapter 1 Teaser.....
Working on a freeform, E-rated fic with druid Tav and Gale. Here there be magic, Gods, secrets, and un-dooming themselves from the narrative. Coming soon to an AO3 near you.
“I hope this isn’t impertinent, but may I ask…”
“That’s often followed by an impertinent question.” Danae raises an eyebrow Gale and his gentle smile goes crooked and embarrassed. “But I’m curious, so go ahead.
“Are you charting the heavens? You’ve been stargazing for white a while this evening.” He gestures to her journal, laying open for the world to see while the ink dries.
Danae wrinkles her nose at him. “Aye—in a manner. It’s a map. And a diary. Using Druidspeak. We call them story maps.”
Gale leans forward. Beneath strong brows his eyes are dark shadows, their color indistinguished in the gloom. “Fascinating. I know Druidspeak is a closed language, not one ever taught to outsiders, but I’ve read about these story maps—an ancient tradition, is it not?”
“I’m just mapping the ground we’ve covered,” Danae said, reaching for the journal and gazing down at the intricate diagrams. “Helps me…make sense of things.”
“May I?”
Ma and the Circle wouldn’t approve of showing an outsider.
They'd warned her of wizards, interested only in power and damn the world that hangs in balance. Wizards reap the wheat of hard-won knowledge and leave the chaff for common folk. They plunder ancient secrets. But Ma was long dead and Danae’s Circle was broken, leaving Danae alone in the world with a worm in her head and monsters at her heels. And besides, Gale won’t be able to read it. Nor has his telescope escaped her notice—perhaps he’d let her use it if she shared something that interested him.
“Only look at that page, please?” she says. “I don’t want it to smudge.”
He nods solemnly. “I understand the sanctity of one’s personal works. My old spellbook, before—” he bites back his words with a sharp breath, and waves as if swatting away the words he was about to say. “Before all of this…no mortal hand touched it but my own.”
“It’s just a diary,” Danae said, passing it to him. “No fancy spells or anything. Just the stars, and the land, and my thoughts.” She smiles, crooked. “The stars you can likely read. My thoughts, the maps…probably not.”
He gazes at the pages before him, eyes flicking from constellation to constellation. Above their heads, the same stars watch them, impassive and perfect. Her scribblings are but poor reflections.
“Oh, but these are quite perfect! You have the hand of an artist. There, our old friend Firbolg, coming up on the horizon there—the end of high summer… Oh...” His sigh hitches—like he’s been burnt, or stung. She studies him anew: a furrowed brow and the high bridge of his nose make him look as if he’s perpetually solving some difficult problem. His lips part slightly, eyes bright, his chestnut-colored hair doing its best to escape its tie.
“The Lady of Mystery,” he says at last. “I suppose it is Her time now that highsun has come and gone. One of my favorite constellations, you know.”
He hands the journal back back with the same solemnity, and there’s a curious look in his eyes, something haunting that Danae had never seen in him—not that a week is long to know someone--but there's some sorrow he must keep buried deep behind his cheerful, awkward verbosity. Her hand reaches for his arm but she drops it as he shakes off whatever gloom had struck him. Their eyes meet and though he smiles, it is the smile of a condemned man who has long accepted his fate.
“Gale? Are you—”
“Ah, a story for another time.” He gets to his feet with a groan. Danae does the same, collecting the dishes to wash. “Though quiet nights seem few and far between, when we find another you should come and use my telescope. The Tears of Selȗne are especially good viewing right now.”
Danae’s heart leaps. “Really? Oh, that would be marvelous! If you’re sure…I promise I won’t break it or anything. I—”
“Pish posh,” Gale says. “A broken telescope is right twice a day, anyway—”
“I think that’s clocks, Gale.”
"Hm. I think you may be right. Perhaps I'm taking a funny turn, mixing up my colloquialisms. But! If playing the fool makes you crack a smile, who am I to deny you?"
Danae touches her fingers to her lips and find she's grinning at him. Her cheeks burn hot and pleasant as he takes his leave with a slight and silly.
"Good evening, Danae.”
"'night," she echoes.
She’s nearly asleep on her feet by the time the dishes are done. Danae dresses for sleep, cleans her teeth and dutifully braids and twists her mass of curs in a satin headscarf. At last, bed. She settles gratefully into her blankets just outside the shelter of her tent, gaze straying to the stars.
She finds the familiar abstraction that training has taught her too see as the shape of a woman, eyes veiled and hands aloft.
The Lady of Mystery. Mystra... Venerated goddess of arcane magic. The weave itself. A ripple of apprehension stirs in Danae’s core, just below her breastbone. She rolls over, curling in on herself until the ache soothes, and her mind turns to Gale and his condemned-man eyes, and she drifts to uneasy sleep.
#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 fanfiction#tav/gale#fic: if it be your will#oc: danae tav#bun writes#dont look at me!!!!#naming another fic after Leonard Cohen lyrics#this is the third gd one and im probably going to use his lyrics as chapter titles too
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On the Edge 1
Chapter one: Warmth
There was nothing that Jac wanted more than to slam everything within her reach against the wall. But the energy to do even this was nonexistent.
Clocking out of work could not come soon enough, for Jac was desperate to step as far away from the chocolate factory as fast as her legs could carry her. After kicking a pebble or six, and releasing a long withheld sigh, the young woman was finally able to relax somewhat after a series of long and listless days. She remained ever vigilant for some time afterward, as she quickly traveled by foot and train until she was absolutely certain that the company building was completely out of her range of sight.
She knew the risks going into a work environment like this- operating massive candy making machines alongside giants is labor intensive and always a hazardous business. But until relatively recently, Jac felt right at home at her workplace. She used to believe that she had won the golden ticket, as she loved to help create new confectioneries while getting to sample some giant sized chocolates every day as a bonus "treat."
Though the happier moments were all but a distant memory, despite these events occurring just months prior. Since then, Jac's job had become a hellish and inescapable milieu that she was forced to endure with each passing weekday. Any and every effort to lessen the load off of her shoulders had been met with deafened ears by her superiors, so she gradually stopped speaking out altogether. Despite the deepening shadow that plagued the weight of her problems, she felt she had no other choice than to push through it.
Jac had finally arrived part way to the front of the human district of the city, though she hesitated to step past the entry gate. In these past few days, exhaustion helped to prevent her from achieving anything productive, for she would collapse immediately upon arrival to her apartment. Sleep being her one escape from the reality that was, at this point in time, her every waking moment..
But with barely any positive interaction with another hominid-being in almost a week, the young woman very much wanted for this night to be different. Spending a few hours with at least one good friend would be a splendid opportunity to lift her dampened spirits. And she knew exactly who to call. Sure it ran the risk of getting herself nommed in the process, but it was certainly a better alternative than having to feel guilty about wasting what little precious time she had. She wanted to feel good at least once, dang it!
Jac pulled her phone out and pressed on the first contact that appeared on screen. Despite her repeated attempts however, Richard failed to pick up her call.
'Probably working late shift again...' Jac sighed.
Jac was disinterested in standing in wait for the Wile giant to show up in the wee hours of the morning, so she opted to let herself into his home anyway. She had the key fob installed in her phone after all, so it was only a matter of stepping inside whenever she very well pleased.
So with a hop aboard a monorail that passed through the bustling Beanstalk metropolis, Jac was brought stealthily enough to the neighborhood where Richard's house stood. With no effort whatsoever, she unlocked the door to the human sized entrance and walked in. She was already thinking ahead with plans to dive straight into the oversized chips that were left on the counter. Indeed, the young woman was feeling better just being in the comfort of a safe and familiar abode.
The house was dark as expected, but a simple clapping of the hands caused the lights to flicker to life. What she saw just seconds later caused her jaw to drop. Her utter shock enveloped every part of her body like a raging storm, and when she shot back to focus she had to cover her mouth so not to let out a yelp.
Sprawled on the hard linoleum floor was Richard, his head face down and still in his work uniform. Jac raced to get upclose to her giant friend and instantly dove into action by shuffling her way through the fabric that was blocking his neck. She pressed a hand against a vain, and once she felt the strong and steady rhythm of his beating heart ag allowed the smaller human a sigh of relief like one she has never had. A slight, nasally snore confirmed her suspicions.
Sensing that all was well from what she could gauge, Jac looked at the giant with pity. She sincerely hoped that he didn't collapse on the floor as soon as he stepped foot into the foyer. But then again it did not surprise her.
Jac tutted and shook her head. She barely had the ability to get the Wile to move without screaming into his ear, but that was out of the question. Even if she was less considerate, the human was too tired to budge, and the heat that radiated from the giant's body didn't help matters at all. It reminded Jac of just how sleep deprived she was, and her drowsiness had increased tenfold with each passing minute. Tried as she might, she couldn't keep her head up.
Sure enough, Jac was well on her way to slumber land, nestled against the crane of Richard's neck with the latter none the wiser. It wasn't the most comfortable position in the world, but Jac felt more at home here than she had in her own place for some time. And for that she was internally grateful.
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