Herbicide And Hospitals

Herbicide and Hospitals

Characters: Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape

Gender: Neutral

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 800

Summary: Something goes wrong when you make a potion, and the two take you to the Hospital Wing.

"Today we will create a potent Herbicide. Do not let one drop find its way to the Greenhouses. Watch closely," Professor Snape snapped.

You nodded, and collected your book and quill, making your way to his desk to take notes with Hermione as he added ingredients into the cauldron. "Now be very careful to not touch the sp- Potter! Don't mess with those bottles!"

At the end of the demonstration, the class returned to their seats. You start adding ingredients as the book instructs you to, and as you grab one of the ingredients, it pokes into your hand, and you wince. You glance at the injury, blood welling up slightly, and decide that it isn't bad enough to stop working. You hadn't realized how sharp those were, but the bleeding was so minimal, it was nothing to be concerned about. You refocus on the potion, forgetting the sting as you dump ingredients in, mixing it into a foul smelling concoction.

The room started to heat up, with all the cauldrons boiling quickly. Was your cauldron on too high? It seemed very hot. You checked the flame. Normal. The heat spread across your arms like a blaze, going up to your head. You took your school issued robes off, leaving you in your shirt with a tie and your skirt/shorts.

"Just me, or is it getting hot in here?" You tug your shirt collar as you whisper to your nearest neighbor, who happens to be Draco Malfoy.

"Just you." You felt his gaze sweep your robeless body, and the burning implications but you couldn't pay attention. You felt… unsteady. Disoriented.

"Professor?" You called out, concerned. You felt yourself sway, unable to hold yourself up, and he caught you as you fell, stopping you from hitting your head on the solid stone ground. "Y/N, are you quite all right?" Seeing no response from you, he turned to the person next to you.

"Malfoy, what happened?" Snape demanded. Your eyes drifted shut, unable to think. A violent tremor went through your body, and you went limp. The students turned, wondering what happened. He held you, and picked you up bridal style. He overheard Harry talking to Granger about how Draco must have poisoned you, and he just rolled his eyes as he walked out of the classroom. He didn't have time to deal with that now.

"Malfoy, with me. We're taking them to the Hospital Wing, and quickly."

Draco nodded, rushing out of the classroom to follow. Every couple steps, Professor Severus Snape would check your pulse, breathing and temperature.

"I didn't see much. They just told me that they were feeling hot, called you over, and fainted."

"'Feeling… hot?'" Snape questioned.

"Warm, professor. That's what they meant, I'm sure, given the situation." Draco looked over your body, both concerned and wishing that he was the one holding you like his Professor. Wasn't Snape's left hand a little too close to your chest, and his right a little too close to your skirt? He never thought he'd be jealous of his favorite teacher.

Draco's gaze traveled along your body, your tie dangling haphazardly straight down. As his eyes took in every inch of your body, he saw a pinprick of blood on your finger.

Snape quickened his pace, and Draco held your finger up to see it closer. "Professor, I think they pricked their finger on something, see?"

"The lionfish spine!" He groaned "I forgot to warn this class, didn't I? Potter interrupted me! Stupid!" Snape growled.

Malfoy had never seen his professor make a mistake before. He glanced away. It was none of his business if his professor beat himself up over it. Still, Draco felt a pang of regret. He had known the spines we're dangerous, and he had been sitting right next to you! He could easily have stopped you. If only he was watching you more closely, instead of only sneaking small glances at you.

Draco was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't realize where he was until he arrived at the destination.

Snape placed you on one of the nearby beds.

"Great heavens!" Madam said, upon seeing Draco's unconscious friend.

"Whatever did you do to them?"

"They were jabbed by a lionfish spine, poison, on this finger." Snape said, tapping your finger, and getting out of the way of the healer. He turned to look at his other student.

"Malfoy, you are to stay here with them, until they wake up, Is that understood?" Draco nodded, not being a brat for once. Snape's gaze softened. Y/N would be safe. "Ten points to Slytherin," he said, turning, making his way back to the classroom.

Hopefully none of his other students were dimwitted enough to stab themselves on an obviously sharp, dangerous, magical ingredient.

One and only.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!reader

Genre & warnings: smut and fluff, post act 3, soft Astarion, fingering, slight overstimulation and orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a lil of anxiety? and thinking but lots of love too, blood, biting.. I don't think there's more?

Words: 4.4k (damn i didn't think it was that long oof.

Healing is a slow process, but with you it's a little easier.

Astarion paced back and forth in front of the tent, weighing the words that were floating in his mind, the feeling that pooled in his stomach and shoved off the fear hidden in the back of his mind.

You were different because you cared about him. You reminded him every night before you'd close your eyes and fell asleep in his arms, and you respected him like none ever did. You reassured him whenever he'd ask you if you were still okay to wait for him until he was ready to try again with sex, and he was oh so grateful for it.

It's been around three years since you were free of the tadpole, you'd grown so much together: patching up each other's wounds while learning how to love. You taught him to be intimate without bedding you. You taught him how caresses could be so much more than sex.

He looked around the camp, you called your old companions for another adventure, helping you find a cure for vampirism, and they all eagerly accepted.

Aylin and Isobel were the only ones missing, literally.

You found a nice spot in the underdark, glowing mushrooms of pretty colors decorated all around you, and the circular cave was just perfect enough for the bunch of you.

You were fumbling around the fire, trying to roast a boar leg you got at a small merchant you found on the road.

Gale was trying to interfere with that boar leg cooking process, but you didn't want to hear him, especially after you had to live off his particularly unsavory stew for months, this time you were taking the metaphorical chef hat and feeding everyone with your newfound skills. Three years away from adventure had to be filled one way or another.

The camp was always lively, that's one of the perks of being so many.

Wyll was playing with Boo, while Minsc and Jaheira were playfully fighting over something dumb. Karlach and Halsin were fast asleep next to the fire, snoring loudly between Gale's words.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart were discussing as always and, though everyone was too distracted to hear him, Astarion was still mumbling to himself while pacing.

The dinner was great, you could see it in the eyes of everyone as they bit into the tender meat and shared stories. Minsc was deep into another tale of Boo, Jaheira and him as your eyes wandered to Astarion, which still hasn't had his dinner.

You couldn't see him, until you noticed that the oil lamp in your tent was on, and his shadow was fixing something around the tent. For what you knew he was moving the pillows scattered around, in a way that you'd be more comfortable while he fed.

They all knew at this point that you'd let him feed off you on daily basis, it started back while you were on your way to Baldur's Gate back then, and you took the habit so much that at a certain point you didn't even feel dizzy after he'd been done.

You excused yourself as you made your way to the tent, it was one of those nights where you needed an extra long hug, and a few kisses on the forehead.

When you opened the flap of the tent, he was still fighting with a pillow, trying to fluff it up just how he liked it, but failing. He was glad that he learned how to hide his emotions, shoving the tension down and away.

You kneeled next to him, placing a hand on his before taking the pillow from his grasp.

He followed your movements closely with his eyes, as you put the pillow on the floor.

He didn't know what he expected to see, but to watch you punch the pillow relentlessly, was definitely not on the list. Though after you were done, the pillow was somehow perfect. Was that how his pillow was always extra fluffy?

You gave him a soft smile before you tossed it next to the others, which you noticed were arranged differently, making something closer to a nest, than your usual layout.

You both didn't speak, you were so close that you'd know just by looking at your bodies, or the way your face crunched, and yours clearly said "cuddle".

In a matter of seconds, he pulled you in his arms before scooting closer to the pillows to rest there.

He loved the way you'd make yourself comfortable on his lap, how you wiggled for a moment before finding that nook where your head rested perfectly on his chest, and the way you would hum when you were happy with the position you chose.

He could live off just of that pretty sound that would come out of your lips.

You were so absorbed by the closeness that you didn't notice the barely perceptible hesitation in his touch, as he slowly turned your face to him, making sure you could hold eye contact for a moment.

The eagerness and the pure undevoted love were fighting with the fear, the fear of reliving those nights he tried so hard to forget, but at the end of the day, he needed you. He needed you more than he feared his nightmares, he needed to feel you around him, he needed to let you feel his love, his devotion, all of him.

If there was one person that he wanted to love so deeply, it was you.

So many times he thought of trying to have sex again just to see if he still was disgusted, but only with time he was able to realize that he wasn't disgusted by sex, he was disgusted of being stripped of his chance to back away. And the more he got to know you, the more he grew closer to you, the more he longed for you, in every way. It was no longer the need for release or just the fucking without attachments, he wanted to make love with you. He wanted to hear you moan his name like a chant, he wanted to feel your hands reach were no one was ever allowed to: tracing his back, on the dip of his lower back, around his hips, at the center of his chest, where his heart, your heart, resided.

There was no one else he desired like this, the idea of other people, or having other lovers but you, made him retch. He didn't want love unless it came from you, he didn't want sex unless it was you making him feel lightheaded. Of course it took him a lot of time to understand this, and a lot of work around his feelings, and his body, and you never shied away from any of his attempts to push his boundaries.

You helped him reshape the ideas of the smallest things, down to skinship.

Even after hours of brooding on how to ask you, he found himself speechless at the sight of your soft eyes filled with love, and the peaceful smile you gifted him. He was mesmerized.

It took him a second to just recollect, as he took his time ingraining in his mind that look he loved so much.

"My love" He whispered as he cupped your cheek, making you lean into his touch. "I've been thinking a lot" His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so slightly, drawing a delicate humm from you. He had planned a lot to say but as you leaned close, the speech was already out the window. So he just lowered you on the bed, and crashed his lips to yours.

It took you a second to process the unexpected movement, but a second later you were lost within his kiss.

Initially it was rough, the way he gripped on you, like an instinct that he could barely control, full of yearning and need, but slowly, the more you relaxed in his arms, savoring the taste of his kiss, the more he would slow down, like a love poem traced with his whole body.

His hands would graze over your hips, your shoulders, your neck, every bit of exposed skin was being caressed by his slender fingers, holding and molding your body like it was putty.

He rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath, and allowed you as well. His eyes were closed as he was lost in your sweet scent.

It took him another long moment before being able to control his breath, regain his senses as his head was already spinning away.

"My love, allow me.." He breathed ooutsweetly as he latched his hand around yours, your fingers intertwining in his like an instinct. "Allow me to feel you." He placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "Allow me to make you mine" The words came out almost as a plea, like a starved man that was in front of a banquet and forced to resist the need. His lips traveled to your neck, resting where he'd usually drink from you.

"I'm already yours" You whimpered as you could feel his teeth graze, sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the pit of your stomach bubbling with tenderness, as his eyes were rounder than usual, and his gaze was soft. Though there was a yearning feeling in the bottom, drowned momentarily by the adoration.

So many nights you had to leave the tent to take care of your needs, as you didn't want to burden Astarion with it. You wanted him to be fully there as he helped you release all that pent up tension, not just a shell of him. You craved his love, not his body.

You had to resist the very urge to push your hips against him, even though he was asking you already. You wanted to make sure he was truly okay before making any movement.

He groaned as he tilted your neck, pressing his lips right under your chin, and descending between your clavicle. He wanted to worship every millimeter of you, no skin would have to go unkissed.

"I want to make love to you, my one" He left a bite on your shoulder, no teeth were deep enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to steal a delicious mewl from you.

His words made your heart roar.

You raised your head enough to catch a glimpse of his eyes, now sultry, half closed as his lips still rested on your skin, dropping sweet kisses right where he was.

"Mh, you sure?" You asked as your body basked in the attention he was providing.

"Like I've never been before. I dreamt for so long to have you wrapped around me" He moved again, until your chests were against each other, and your noses were meeting. "I want no one else but you. I want to know what having the love of your life so close, so vulnerable feels like" He placed a quick kiss on your nose. "I just want to get lost in you, to hold you like I've never held anyone" his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him, like he wanted to merge your bodies. "I want to be one with you" He whispered as he closed his eyes again, inhaling your flowery scent mixed with his.

Your heart was pounding so loudly against your rib cage that you would have sworn he could feel it without leaning in.

You wanted to sound louder, but as your lips opened to say that yes, the sound came in almost a strangle

by all your emotions.

Astarion's eyes glimmered with a light you've never seen before resting there.

He was gentle as he undressed you, every inch that was being revealed to his eyes, was met with his yearning lips, drawing all sorts of pleading sounds from you. Your body was already shaking like a lire string as it was touched, and your lips chanting a melody for him.

His descent was agonizingly slow, but what struck you was how his movements were.

You knew he was well versed in sex, but the way he was caressing, tracing, kissing, biting, was the one of a man that was trying to listen to your reactions, to savor the tiniest sensations, to learn his lover, such a difference from the confident man that fucked you senslessly in a forest three years prior.

It was no longer about repayment for the feed or protection, it was pure undevoted love in each touch.

Just with those miniscule attentions, your heart was swelling for him, and little did you know that he was hitting him as well, all your emotions flowing around you in the small space of the tent.

Your clothes were soon on the other side of the floor and you took your time admiring him in all his beauty: the way his chest was rising, the way his skin was covered in small old marks, so carefully healed that you wouldn't be able to discern them unless you would be trying to remember his every pore.

"Gods i wish you could see yourself through my eyes right now" He sighed. "I've seen you naked so many times, but right now? No goddess could compare next to you" He kissed your navel delicately as his fingers were grazing your thighs.

You could feel your cheeks igniting at the praise. You wished for a moment you still had that tadpole eating your brain, just for a second to show him the true vision. His body was so perfect in front of you, the truly breathtaking view. You could have sworn he would have made such a perfect painting.

Before you could open your mouth though, he was praising you again.

"No words would be enough for me to explain how every curve of your body makes me ache for you, my one" He leaned forward, placing wet kisses from your neck, down to your hips, over and over again until his name was a broken mewl from you lips.

He stopped between your thighs, taking his time to spread you wide open for him. He kissed that spot that caught his mind right away, that perfect dip of your hips, where stretch marks were concentrated.

He hummed as he couldn't help but graze them with his teeth, stealing one moan that made him almost melt.

Then agonizingly slowly he kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses until his nose brushed against your clit. You wanted to beg for him to eat you, but his head turned towards the other tight, repeating the tantalizing trail of kisses until he reached for your dripping cunt.

"You are so ready for me" He kissed right above your clit, teasing you more and more. "But I have to dine first" a finger gently traced the outline of your lips, taking his time before dipping it between your folds, and earning a moan. It was so long since someone touched you, you could feel your whole body clench at the smallest touch.

He kissed your thigh again, sighing at the softness of your skin. You were so wet he just inserted another finger in you and started pumping in your pussy, drawing those perfect moans from you again, music to his pointy ears.

Then as he added another finger, his teeth sank in your plush thigh. All of your senses jolted up, amplifying everything as he started drinking from you.

His slender fingers reached right where he made you cry in pleasure, as you slowly gave in to the lightheadedness.

As he kept feeding, he still worked you like he knew every movement that would make you whimper, drawing always so near to your orgasm before pulling away.

Moments later he finally let go of your thigh, his teeth slipped away from the pricks they had made home in, and licked away the rivlet of blood still spilling from the new wound, causing your body to arch even more under his tongue. You were so close, so desperate to come you'd chant his name like a prayer, just so he'd taste you.

Instead he pulled out his fingers, taking one at a time in his mouth and sucking your slick off of them.

"You are delicious, my love" He moaned as he popped each finger out of his lips.

You were on edge, so tempted to take control and ride his face until you'd come on his lips, but you had to restrain yourself, you wanted him to guide you through it, you wanted him to have full control of his and your body.

His tongue reached for the rivlet of blood on his lips before pulling you in his lap, your thighs wrapped around his hips like they were made just for that. You could feel his erection press against your folds as he pulled you closer.

His lips and yours clashed together in something that was akin to a slow dance, your arms wrapped around his neck, while his held you by your hips.

You could drink the sighs he was letting out, the smile he grew in that intimate moment, the reason why he wanted you in this position.

For months he tried to imagine how he wanted to make love to you, how he'd feel the safest, and his mind always came back at the idea of your chests against each other, your lips so close he could kiss you, but also where he could hear your moans the closest. How he wanted you to rest against him as he whispered how perfect you were for him, he wanted you. All of you. All of your warmth, all of your skin, all of your sights, he wanted to see how he was affetting you, and how you affected him. He wanted to lift your chin, to kiss your neck, he wanted the both of you to find respite in the tight hold.

Seeing you so close to him, so vulnerable just how much he would be, it was how he wanted it to go, cause this for him was like a first time. He wanted to be overwhelmed by you, as you consumed him.

He wanted to feel his home in you. In you and only you.

He took a moment, resting against you, clinging to you like you were going to disappear from his grasp.

"If you want to stop, you just have to say it, my star" You whispered as you rested a hand in his hair, drawing circles on his scalp as he breathed in your scent, that was slowly mixing with the smell of sex.

"No my love, I'm just bathing in you before doing anything else" He admitted, placing a kiss on your neck, where he was resting his head.

"I don't think I could ever exchange this for anything. No power, or castle could compare to the home I made in your heart". His words were warm, caring, just like scorching fire against ice.

"I love you" You murmured as you caressed his cheek, and brought him back to you.

"I love you too, my one" He kissed you slowly as he guided you up. Bringing you to rest your forehead against each other as you slowly sank on his length. A gasp simultaneously filled the tent, so loud it could wake up everyone, but you didn't care. The air was pulled out of your chests, as you clinged on each other.

You both waited a moment before doing any movement, both overwhelmed by the closeness and the pleasure.

You wrapped around him so perfectly, he could barely keep any control over his body, his mind or his lips.

"Mh so perfect for me" He whispered sultry, as he guided you through the slow movement, allowing him to bottom out before having your hips meet his again, stealing another breathy moan.

It was slow, tender, so much that you could feel your eyes become glassy.

Nothing could ever compare to the fire that was spreading around your body as he picked up pace, stealing everything from you. Your air, your whimpers, your heart, over and over again.

He wanted to savor every inch of you, he would allow himself to fill you to the hilt, as he threw his head back.

"M-mine" He lulled as he couldn't resist the urge to go faster, his body loosing control of his movements.

It became all so sloppy, ragged as he grasped at you ass, his nails sinking into your skin as he slapped his hips against yours.

"This is what you do to me" He rasped as he lolled his head back. His hair wild as some curls fell on his face. His mouth agape as he choked praises.

Sweet gasps echoed between the syllables of your name, as he submitted to the pleasure.

He wanted to scream, to let everyone know you were his and no one could ever coax those sounds from him like you did, so effortlessly.

Your fingers twirled naturally around his curls, pulling his head to yours as you deepened the kiss along with your movements, savoring the taste of his lips and sweat as you made him see the stars.

You drank each other's moans with your lips as you completely gave away to the pleasure, as you gave all of you to each other.

You could barely register who was directing, cause your bodies just felt like one. Molten lava simply mixing as it burned hot like the hells.

You were so close, your whole body shaking as you could barely form a proper sentence. "L-love y-you" You muttered though your tongue felt indescribably heavy and light simultaneously.

You were drunk on him, your eyes rolling back as he hit that spot that could make you come undone. He worshiped every inch he could reach with his lips, making sure your body was left with a memory of the night, of his trust, of his love.

"You fill me so well" you praised with the last bit of your sanity, stealing the most precious sound from his lips.

Euphoria washed over Astarion as he was high on the feeling of your pussy clenching uncontrollably around him.

He pumped in you insatiably as you could feel it build up, the familiar knot as your muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and your legs shake.

You were not sure what it was, maybe it was the moaned praises, or his touch, or the way his hair bounced as he sank in your, but you felt your body being stripped of all the flesh, pleasure taking it's place as your orgasm washed over you. Your head rested on his shoulder as he was still lost in you, so close to his own release.

You knew that the only sound in the camp was your skin slapping, and the lustful sounds you'd make for each other.

The frenzy turned into a slow-burning passion, his hips rhythmically pounding in you as his lips met again with yours in a matching kiss, your moans mixing in the middle as you could feel it again, your orgasm building so quickly you barely had time to process how sensitive you were.

You let go of his lips to admire how his mouth parted, a series of whimpered moans fell from his lips as you could feel every inch of you being dragged away in the second orgasm at the sole sight.

His hips stuttered once, twice, before the arrogant orgasm sent him to the moon, spilling all his cum in your warmth.

He stayed in you for a few more moments as he processed how elated he felt.

There was no one else in the universe that would make him feel so safe, so loved. He was gentle as he laid with you in his arms, drawing shapeless lines along your velvety skin.

He couldn't hold back the tears that were forming at the edge of his eyes, as he held this night so close to his heart. For him, this was his first time, and it was with you, his other half.

You noticed right away when the first few tears started tracing his skin. You were so afraid of his reaction that this was like a shock to you, in a way.

You prayed the morninglord he wasn't already regretting the intimacy, maybe he didn't feel what you felt: that sense of belonging, the overwhelming love.

You cupped his cheek as you caught a tear with your thumb. "Are you ok, my star?" You whispered as you took away another and another with tenderness that made Astarion even more emotional.

He slowly met your gaze, his eyes so soft and his lips curled in a tender smile as the droplets still descended down his cheeks.

"I'm perfect, my love" He rested his hand on yours, clasping at your fingers and bringing them away from his cheek.

"Why are you crying?" You offered a reassuring look, the one he learned meant that you were a safe space where he could speak his mind unfiltered.

"I dreamt of this nights for months, how I would ask you, and how I'd hope this would carry out" He exhaled for a moment as he toyed with your fingers.

"And none of those dreams could ever get close to this" His smile was getting wider, accentuating those lines you loved so much.

"I don't care for sex, unless it's with you. Unless it's loving you with every inch of me, unless it means undressing ourselves and being exposed in all our vulnerability. Unless it means I get to feel you become part of me" You were absorbed by his words and his eyes, that you didn't notice he let go of your hand to hold you closer.

"You are the other part of me", He let out shakily. "I might even say you are the best part as well." He kissed your forehead tenderly. "You are my one and only" He whispered at last as he dragged the blanket he had left on the side, on your bodies. You murmured something between a love confession and a praise as he lulled you to sleep in his embrace.

You were fast asleep as he finally remembered what he was forgetting.

He summoned a mage hand, trying to be as silent as possible. The ghostly arm reached under one pillow and pulled out the velvety box, before shoving it in Astarion's backpack and dissolving its form.

"Tomorrow" He noted in his mind. "Tomorrow I'll ask you"

♡~Masterlist~ ♡

~✿｡☆~✧✿~｡✧~✿~｡☆~☆｡✿~☆｡✿｡~✧~

Fics:

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 1 You are forced to ask Draco, of all people, to become your tutor. He agrees, but asks for a high price that compromises everything you strive for.

_________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 2 Things between you and Draco take a drastic and spicy turn in the days before your study date.

_________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 3 Malfoy's bitchy personality undertakes an odd change; maybe it's because you are destined to fuck him later today.

_________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 4 You're losing control today, hardly able to make it through your study session in desperate need for Draco; he feels the same.

_________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 5 Draco's payment arrives; you spend a steamy sex-filled night with the Slytherin Prince.

_________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 6 Coming down from your first night with Draco, you can't keep your hands off each other, enjoying a comical love feast in the middle of the night.

_________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 7 Waking up blissfully in Draco's arms, you are relishing your new relationship. How will your crazy friends react when they see you walking down the hall from his room?

____________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 8 Snuggling Draco on the Quidditch field after practice, he nips you off to a corner of the grounds to reveal yet another kinky side of himself.

____________________________________

• Sweet and Sour Chapter 9 When things go sour between you and Harry after a failed attempt to tell him of your relationship with Draco, Draco proves to have more heart than the Gryffindor

____________________________________

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Shots:

• Whimsical Comedic Insane Draco x Reader Smut

_________________________________

• POV DomReader x SubDraco Smut drabble

_________________________________

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagines:

• Hot and Bothered Draco (masturbation)

_________________________________

• Sex on the Hogwarts Express (exhibitionism)

_________________________________

• Sex with Draco

_________________________________

• Giving Draco a blowjob (rough)

_________________________________

• Draco lusting over you in Class (masturbation)

_________________________________

• Draco's ecstatic about you riding him

_________________________________

• Draco getting aroused by your singing and dancing

_________________________________

• Draco getting turned on by you being you

_________________________________

• Draco wanting you in Class

_________________________________

• Jealous Draco in Class (fluff)

_________________________________

• Sexual invitation at the Malfoy's Dinner

_________________________________

• Intense sex with Draco

_________________________________

• Hogwarts Boys masturbation habits

_________________________________

• Draco in love with Reader

_________________________________

• Young Draco in love with Reader (fluff)

_________________________________

• Draco noncon (dark)

_________________________________

• Draco jerks off to you in the mornings

_________________________________

• Draco and Theo are in love with you

_________________________________

• Daddy Draco

____________________________________

• Through the years with Draco

____________________________________

• Yandere Draco kisses you against your will

____________________________________

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Silly" things:

• Did I just wank to Draco at 3 a.m. ?

_________________________________

• House to yourself?

_________________________________

• Uncircumcised Draco~

_________________________________

• Draco's Boggart (purely silly)

_________________________________

• A one-liner to cheer you up~

____________________________________

• Draco's b-day~

____________________________________

• Theo wants you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

____________________________________

• Draco's advice when sad

____________________________________

• His walk

____________________________________

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last updated July 29th 2022

Competitive Advantage [Loki x Female Reader x Thor] 18+

Relationship: Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader [+ Thor, but also not really]

Summary: In the Avengers compound, Thor has turned his sights on you as his next conquest - but little does he know his brother harbours much a much deeper obsession. When he suggests a race to sleep with you, you are caught up in an afternoon which can only be described as very eventful. Some fluff, some angst, also smut (because of course). 

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI! Language. Coercive behaviour. Smut peppered all over the place. Thor is a bit of an arse.

Word Count: 4.5k

There is now a PART TWO to this little escapade…link at the bottom :) 

—

‘All I’ll say is that for a Mid-Guardian woman she is…enticing’

‘for a Mid-Guardian woman??’ Thor brought his fingers to his forehead in a frustrated crest, ‘brother I have travelled all nine realms and bedded many maidens and I can tell you, with Borr as my witness, that is the finest piece of arse I have laid eyes on north of Muspelheim…’

Loki brought his towel to his face, wiping away ribbons of sweat that fell from his forehead as his brother kept talking. A little too loudly, as usual.

The gym at the Avengers compound was busy this morning. Clattering of knives and batons could be heard sharply over the smack of limbs as heroes and agents sparred together. He and Thor sat on a bench at the side of the arena, arms reddened with combat each resting on their knees as they caught their breath. Well..as Loki caught his breath.

‘…I mean really, brother, how can you look at her and not want to ride her into battle like a valiant steed? Norns, have you seen her fight? She is a Valkyrie reborn. Perhaps she is…it would explain a lot. Her arse, for one thing-’

‘Would you shut up about her arse?’, Loki snapped, rolling his eyes. It was embarrassing really, how crude he could be.

Loki raised his gaze as his brother, blessedly, closed his mouth for two seconds.

There you were, strong legs straddled around Clint Barton as you pinned him to the ground – his knife out of reach, defenceless under your tight control. Loki shivered. His eyes roamed your body as you elevated yourself from the man below, the curve of your legs and the toned muscles which pressed against your leggings as you rose threatened a groan from his throat as he swam in the stolen voyeurism where he could worship you safely. You pressed your fists to Clint in post-spar tradition, your bare midriff glistening with sweat…how he wanted to lick it off from your navel all the way up to your perfect brea-

‘…Brother.’

‘What?’ Loki turned to Thor, eyes blazing, his question delivered with a low tone of menace that threatened to betray the lust simmering below.

‘I was asking if you wanted to go another round, but I suspect that there may be another partner you have in mind now…’, his meaty elbow nudged Loki’s ribs with the subtlety of a bulldozer.

‘Don’t be absurd. You’re the one that’s obsessed with her arse’.

‘Indeed, brother. Although I am obsessed with a lot more than her arse. Her INCREDIBLE bosom for examp-’

In a flash, Loki’s forearm was at Thor’s throat, pinning him against the wall as he choked on his words beneath him, his eyes burning into the squirming god caught off guard.

‘Guys, no family drama in the gym…come on’, you said loudly as you sauntered over to pick up your water bottle, the scene unfolding before you, ‘take it outside, or to Asgard…not here please’.

You looked on, pleased with yourself, as the dark-haired god released his brother. Thor looked to you with jovial amusement as he rubbed his neck, his gaze drawing up and down your body, a wicked promise in his eyes which remained behind his lips.

‘How are you today, Agent Y/N?’  Loki said calmly, his demeanour a stark contrast from only moments ago as he had his brother in a vice which would have killed an ordinary man.

‘I’m well, thank you’, you replied warmly. The Asgardian duo had always remained on an outside circle to you, where you only observed them from afar. Social interactions were taken in snatches where you could, for one of them in particular whose attention you craved though you would never betray it. You turned with a small wave as you made your way back over to Clint, who would definitely be taking no prisoners for round two, feeling the weight of the gaze of a pair of eyes over your body like the musk of sweat in the air. You hoped it was him.

‘I think it’s high time we had some new sport, what say you Loki?’, Thor turned to his brother as he said it, looping his long hair behind his ear revealing a devilish smile.

‘Go on?’

‘Well, it seems increasingly obvious to me that we both have our interests set on Agent Y/N, so why don’t we make it a little more interesting. What say you?’

‘Brother, you still haven’t actually said anything’, Loki rolled his eyes defiantly as his stomach churned.

‘A competition!’, he exclaimed cheerfully, ‘the first one to bed her, wins’.

‘Don’t be absurd.’

Thor’s laugh echoed around the gym as Loki began packing his weapons into a kit bag.

‘You’re right Loki, it is absurd. How could you triumph in such a contest when I have the clear competitive advantage…’

Loki’s hands stilled as he processed the jibe, every pulse of blood warning him not to rise to it and yet thrusting him on, ‘competitive advantage?’ he sneered, ‘please tell me you’re not talking about your reputation for jackhammering across the nine realms, collecting the riddled notches on your bedpost’.

A thick hand landed on Loki’s shoulder as he focused his attention on fastening the bag zipper, hoping Thor would simply disappear.

‘No brother, although I’m sure she is aware of my legendary status as a lover. No, I am referring to the fact that I am worthy’, he paused…waiting for a reaction, ‘for surely if I am worthy to lift Mjölnir then I am worthy to lift her legs around my waist’,

Loki’s head whipped round to meet his brother’s eyes, the mirth in Thor’s met with steel malice as he considered the proposition.

‘Fine’, Loki spat as he stood abruptly. He looked up at where you circled Clint, your fists raised, your hair coming undone from the morning’s efforts, your eyes focused on your target as your mind searched keenly for his weakest point, ‘consider your challenge accepted’.

_____

 The early afternoon sun blared through the glass in the empty compound kitchens as you counted spoons of protein powder that fell lacklustre into your sport bottle. Four, Five, Six

‘Thirsty, are we?’

You jumped, as the voice announced it’s owner behind you. You didn’t even have to look.

‘Hi Thor,’ you smiled as you spun the top on the bottle, ‘twice in one day, lucky me…’

‘Indeed, sweet Y/N. Lucky indeed. My, you do look ravishing today,’ you heard him inhale theatrically, ‘and pray what is that heavenly scent you’re wearing?’

You turned, taking in the bemusing sight before you as you stifled a laugh. He was leaning awkwardly against the refrigerator, his bulging arms crossed (was he flexing?) against the naked expanse of his chest, puffed out as he smirked. A pair of loose grey shorts hung low from his bare hips, revealing his taunt angular muscles as he looked at you keenly, awaiting your response.

‘I um…I haven’t actually showered yet since earlier so…’

‘Ah! Your natural scent, then. How delectable. My my, I can only imagine how good you must smell once you are well and truly dirty…’ his voice lowered as he stared you down, and you suddenly felt very underdressed…or overdressed…for whatever this was.

‘So what’s happening lately with the A-team?’, you cleared your throat, ‘have you guys got any big missions planned that you can tell me about?’ you began shaking your water bottle in your palm, dispersing the protein powder like you wanted to disperse with this conversation.

Silence rolled around you in the empty kitchen as you politely awaited his reply, realising far too late the association he was making with your provocative hand movements to what was tucked within those revealing shorts.

‘Agent Y/N, I must tell you something, ’ he strode across the kitchen, leaning one enormous, muscled arm against the cupboard over your head before you had a chance to think.

‘…I am…consumed…with thoughts of you. Your mortal body. Underneath my godly body. A union fit for the cosmos. Your perishable curves have pushed me to the edge of desire. We should be lovers. Allies…in fucking. Would you like that?’, a thin smile graced the corner of his mouth as his eyes bore down into you, willing you to concede. You couldn’t contain yourself.

Your hand shot up to your mouth as you began to laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation falling like a satellite from the sky. Confused, Thor took several steps back from you, checking behind him that no one had born witness to the scene.

‘I’m sorry’, you gasped between staggered breaths, ‘I just…’ and you collapsed in on yourself again, howling with painful laughter as he began to retreat.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he huffed as he made his way down the hall, spinning around in an attempt to extinguish the sounds of mirth which taunted him, ‘I am worthy...you know…’

__

Loki smirked as he heard your unmistakable peals of laughter ringing through the corridors, followed by his brother’s footsteps, heavy with rejection. Fool. How could he have thought that you would fall for the brash display of wanton brawn that he no doubt set out for you. But, Loki reminded himself, this all played to his advantage.

The truth was that Loki had been utterly infatuated with you for months, observing your patterns, interests and relationships around the compound as you went about your daily life as an Agent of Shield, his clandestine operation fuelling his fascination with you behind the curtain of apathy. All coolness played out towards you in daylight hours was made up for tenfold under cover of darkness, when his hands reached between his thighs for relief.

He had imagined you in boundless situations together, a collection of fictions in his mind that lived and breathed and sighed his name under the ministrations of his hands, his tongue, his cock, as desperate with need for him as he for you. In his fantasies, you would come to him by night, a pilgrimage to his rooms, where you would find the salvation you sought. He would absorb you, worshipping every part of you in the flesh as he did in his mind. Your honeyed words would drip out of you as he lapped at the font of your secret devotion for him, hidden all this time.

His thousand yard stare was broken by the sound of light footsteps approaching, right on time.

__

‘Loki!’ you exclaimed, ‘Jesus I can’t get rid of you two today…your brother isn’t here is he?’

You quickly checked your surroundings for any signs of your would-be suitor as Loki reclined casually on one of the large sofas within the common area of the compound, reading a book.

‘No, he is not’, he replied politely, ‘if he were, I would not be’.

Satisfied, you settled on the opposite sofa, setting your drink down on the table as you watched the infamous god of mischief thumbing over a page. An hour passed in peace as you closed your eyes, drinking in the sunlight streaming through the window, gloriously warming the surface of your skin.  

‘You look like a goddess’, Loki murmured quietly, his words breaking the lengthy silent sea, barely distilling through your meditative state.

‘Hmm?’ you questioned, the words he spoke not bridging the gap to your brain currently occupied by delicious warm restfulness.

‘I said, you look like a goddess’, every word was calligraphy in deep velvet tones. You opened your eyes, locking immediately with the man across from you, staring at you inquisitively.

‘The light’, he gestured, ‘it glows on your skin just so…like a goddess, I would know’, a smile reaching his eyes. That was new.

As much as you had tried to deny it initially, your feelings for Loki had not gone away as the days and months ticked on from his arrival at the compound. His aloofness only served to make you more determined to uncover what lay beneath those layers of cool cynicism…and leather, and tight gym clothes.

He was a high-risk recruit, and not one which you had not been cleared to over-socialise with…so you kept your distance. You watched as he warmed to those around him, as he became accustomed to life in this new world. You made a note of the books he had read and made sure to read them too. Just in case. He liked reading. He liked a lot of things. You hoped he liked you.

When your days were done, your fingers found your way between your thighs and Loki was the only thought in your mind. Oh, the things he had done to you. His fingers had traced every line on your body, explored every crevice for points of pleasure that brought you to ecstasy under his touch. He loved the way you wound his long curls in your hands as he pleasured you, his face buried inside you as he delved to your very core with his tongue. He had taken you in every position, in every available surface of your rooms as you called his name and he yours, his perfect face contorted with the overwhelming passion he felt for you in those moments as you were one.

‘Y/N?’, his soft voice broke your daydream as you came back to reality, ‘Yes.’ you replied, too quick to be believable that you had absolutely not been in another world where he was desperate for your touch.

‘I’m leaving now’, he said soothingly, ‘but I very much enjoyed your company…’

Your heart fluttered at his words, your body responding with a flush of hormones straight to your loins as he gazed down at you from above, his eyes an untameable sea of emotions you were unable to read as he touched your hand lightly and drew it fluidly to his lips, your fingertips ghosting the object of your desire as he pressed them against you, moist from where he had recently licked them.

‘I’ll see you l-later?’, you stuttered, it came out as a question although you had not meant it so. Or had you?

‘Perhaps’, he purred, ‘I am always at your service, Lady’. He lowered your hand, and with a curt bow he moved gracefully towards the exit.

___

You definitely needed that shower now. A cold one. It had been two hours since you finished sparring with Clint and you’d been awkwardly propositioned by one demi-god and given a primal hot flush by another, simply being his inimitable self. The door to your apartment clicked open and you headed straight to the bathroom, the promise of the cool stream of liquid pressure on your body calling you as you stripped from your tight clothes and stepped in to the tub.

Refreshed, you pottered around the apartment you called home at the compound, a thick white towel tucked around your frame as your damp hair brushed your shoulders, earlier events of the day feeling more like a dream with every moment that passed.

Knock Knock

You looked up from your laptop screen, confusion knitting your brow as you checked the time on your phone. You had nowhere to be, no emergency alerts from Fury. You made your way to the door, holding one hand to the towel concealing your modesty as it swung open before you.

Of course.

Thor leaned theatrically against your door-frame, one rippled arm extended above his head as he took up as much space as possible, looking down as his tousled blonde hair fell around his face. His eyes raised slowly to meet your stare of disbelief, ignorant to the effect his display was having on you.

‘Like what you see?’ his voice rumbled, saturated with the same misplaced confidence as the kitchen encounter,

‘I like that you’re wearing a t-shirt now’, you quipped casually as you glanced past him to check for witnesses, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed as his smile turned to a pout processing your words.

His suspicious eyes travelled the lines of your body, naked only for the towel that encased you. Your bare face framed by your wet hair, traces of moisture still clinging to your collarbone as he stared at you hungrily, ‘Norns, you are Rán personified’, he mumbled lustily, ‘goddess of the sea…she had nine children, you know’, he winked.

You stared at him, arms folded, your voice not betraying the pounding of your heart beneath the Egyptian cotton.

‘You’re the second person to call me a goddess today’, you quipped, ‘so I must be doing something right’.

Thor’s arm slid from above him through his hair, curiosity flaring in his gaze, ‘the second?’ his eyes flickered towards the bicep now bulging to his side, willing your gaze to fall upon it in awe.

‘Y/N, I understand that my revelation earlier may have come as a shock to your mortal mind…it is not every day that a figure of legend expresses his wish to bed you and so I am willing to offer you another opportunity…’ he trailed off as his thick hands found their way to his hips pointing towards where his, surely enormous, cock sat concealed, squarely posturing his triangular frame in your field of vision. Impossible to ignore.

‘To fuck you?’, you stated. This was becoming too much and your patience was wearing thin.

‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that but, yes, if you wish…’, his eyebrows raised as a smug smile danced at his lips.

You cleared your throat, ‘as flattered as I am, son of Odin, I have to decline your offer’ you spoke purposefully, watching the muscles in his face morph from expectation to bemusement with each syllable passing your lips.

‘Y/N I don’t think you understand the honour I am bestowing upon you-’

Without another word, you closed the door.

This was bad. You paced the floor as you pondered your limited options, willing that your pursuer had the sense to leave the situation as it stood. Blessedly, no further protests came from beyond the door that separated you from him, as thoughts of Loki raced through your mind, unbidden.

Surely, he would be able to call his brother off? They were not the closest of kin but his word would likely hold more weight, and believability, than yours. Your mind flashed back to the scene of Loki with his muscled forearm pinning Thor against the wall this very morning, your pussy clenching as you remembered the fire in his eyes in response to the unknown misdemeanour his brother had inflicted. Loki’s words earlier today floated through your memories like pollen, ‘I am always at your service, Lady’, his well-timed promise the final nail in your resolve.

You pressed your ear against the door, satisfying yourself that you could open it without another unwelcome encounter. Hurriedly you scampered down the hall, your bare feet cool against the linoleum floor as you made your way to the apartment you had only fantasised about as you passed it each morning. You knocked gingerly at the door, praying that he was inside.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing the god of mischief looking at you with a perplexed amusement on his angled features. His gaze drew down your body briefly as he straightened, his eyes quickly returning to yours, ‘you are aware that you are wearing only a towel, Agent?’

Oh god.

‘I’m sorry,’ you stuttered, embarrassment soaking through your consciousness like liquor, ‘I needed to see you, I forgot…’, you trailed off as he ushered you inside his rooms, the mischievous glint in his eyes now laced with concern.

‘Tell me’, he stated regally as you paced the floor, not knowing how to begin.

You recounted your meetings with Thor that day to him, as he ran his hands through his hair concealing a smile.

‘I don’t think it’s that funny, actually’, you huffed as his grin finally broke across his face, ‘he’s after me like a horny dog…it’s Thor…what the hell am I supposed to do?’

Loki crossed his arms, resting one long finger on his chin as he pondered your words, ‘have you considered conceding to his request?’ he asked, smoulderingly, ‘you may enjoy it’.

You rolled your eyes as you absorbed his words, how foolish you were to have thought he could help. That he would help. He didn’t care about you, they were as bad as each other. Your heart dropped at the revelation, the object of your desire unknowingly pushing you into the arms of his brother. His rival. You seethed.

‘I can categorically tell you I would not enjoy it. You of all people should understand that…’ you drew yourself up to full height, stoically tightening the fit of your towel as you held your head high, ready to make your defiant exit.

‘Y/N…’ his voice cooed gently, ‘sit down’, he patted the sofa next to where he had planted himself during your display of resolve. You eyed him suspiciously as he gazed at you, no trace of haughtiness in his eyes now.

‘Please?’, he murmured. Your resolve melted.

Cautiously you sat on the opposite side of the sofa to the handsomest man you had ever seen in your life, the one whose voice made you wet with desire, the luxe furnishings he had conjured for himself a stark contrast to the ridiculousness of your appearance. You felt the luxurious fabric beneath you graze against your wetness as you settled, the length of your towel not conducive to the new position you found yourself in. Lord, you hoped you wouldn’t leave a mark.

He cleared his throat.

‘Y/N, my brother is an arrogant oaf, that you know I am sure’, you nodded at his words, ‘however there is another reason for his particularly boorish behaviour today, for which I apologise for my part in it…’

‘Go on…’ your heart quickened, a fizz of anticipation building in your stomach as he spoke.

‘This morning my brother revealed his…intentions…to me regarding you. In his mind, it became a competition of sorts between us, one which he was confident that he would emerge victorious, and I fear my actions only spurred him on…’, Loki looked up at you from hooded eyes, unspoken words clouding them as you drank in his gaze.

‘A competition?’ you repeated…the connotations ticking through your mind,

‘Yes, Y/N, and for that I am sorry…you do not deserve to be treated as such’, his lowered voice tinged with reverence made your pussy throb with need.  

Words formed on your lips before you had a chance to vet them, dripping out of you like the wetness forming on your intimate folds, ‘but…you didn’t compete’, you turned to him – noting his pupils that were widened as he leant towards you, the space between you shortening as you felt your breath become heavy.

‘Didn’t I?’ he purred darkly, ‘…you’re here aren’t you?’

Your head spun. You could feel your hips beginning to squirm minutely beneath you as your pussy keened for attention, the weight of his words only adding to the melody of his breath in your ear, thick with innuendo you wanted to rut yourself upon.

‘Loki, I have to tell you something…’ you started, turning to him as he closed the space between you. His lips moulded to yours as he encased your cheek in one of his slender hands, the other making its way to your waist as you gasped into his kiss. His tongue breached your mouth with ease, twisting around yours with needful passion held back by careful restraint as he measured your response.

He withdrew, his eyes fluttering open to assess the situation. Your eyes were closed, a dreamlike expression on your face as you registered the absence of his touch, a slight frown ghosting across your forehead.

‘Y/N…’ he whispered seductively as you opened your eyes, ‘I too wish to bed you, but for reasons quite different from my brother’, he re-considered his words… ‘somewhat...different to my brother..’

You looked at him with disbelief, was this happening? Were you about to wake up alone, a hot, sweat-ridden mess tangled in your sheets?

‘I have admired you from afar for many months, although I admit it was the gauntlet thrown down by Thor this morning that spurred on my resolve to test your feelings for me, to see if there was a chance that you could feel the same…’, his fingers traced up your thigh as he said it, his light touch making you shiver as you slid your legs wider apart, involuntarily, 

‘…and from your actions just now, it seems I may have arisen victorious from our little bet…’, his eyes flashed as he crashed into you, pressing you to the sofa as his lips ravaged you with finesse.

You moaned wantonly as he moved his attention to your neck, sucking the delicate exposed skin to mark you as his prize, the cock you had dreamed of so vividly in your fantasies hardening against your naked thigh through his sweatpants. One of his hands slid down your chest, pulling your towel aside as it went, gracefully sliding down your body. 

Two fingers brushed through your folds, your desire evident as his eyes lit up at the feeling, ‘darling you are absolutely soaking,’ he moaned in your ear, his hot breath igniting every nerve in your body, ‘…so wet for me and I’ve barely touched you’, you groaned as his fingers slid inside you – gasping as they curled against your clenching walls, ready for everything he had to give you.

‘I’ve thought about this a lot, Loki’, you sighed against him as he manipulated your body to his will, your senses coming undone as reality fell away around you, ‘I’ve felt the same way about you…all this time–’, a low moan escaped you as he began to thumb your clit in slow circles, observing the woman he worshipped beneath him, writhing under his touch – finally.

‘Mmm,’ Loki murmured as his seidr glowed, his clothes disappearing in a shimmer of green as your eyes widened at the sight of his chiselled body coming into view, his long cock pressing against your skin tantalisingly as your hips keening into his fingers massaged it against your naked thigh with every thrust, 

‘well then,’ he growled, the lust in his voice breaking as he lowered his face between your legs, ‘it seems it was I who had the competitive advantage after all…’

—

Link to Competitive Advantage [Part 2] (I mean c’mon we can’t just leave it there can we? no.)

–

Tags (list is now open if you’d like to be added, let me know x) 

@ravenwings73

@lokisninerealms​

@lulubelle814

@vbecker10 @holdmytesseract​ 

curse-breaker [part 3/3]

summary: You're the Mystic Arts' best and brightest when it comes to breaking ancient curses, and Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme...well, he's the Mystic Arts' best when it comes to everything else. But when a normal day together at New York City's Sanctum Sanctorum is turned on its head by an invitation from Tony Stark himself to attend this year's Stark Industries Gala, you find that you need to clarify what, exactly, you and Stephen are to each other, and not just to the world at large.

pairing: Stephen Strange/Sorcerer!Reader

warnings: Literally 90% of this chapter is just smut. We've got us some magical mind-reading and mind sex, sex magic, face-sitting, edgeplay, P in V sex, creampie...I think that just about covers it! DNI and DNR if you're under 18!!

word count: 11.9k

a/n: Finally, the smut chapter! Let's jump right in! If you're looking for earlier chapters, though, you can find them here: [part 1 here] [part 2 here]

“So we’re looking for a picture of a guy with tentacles on his face.  Anything else you can remember?”  Stephen asked, magically flicking through the pages of his book quickly.

“Not really,” you sighed, waving your hand again and again to skim through your own book’s pages rapidly.

“Mm.  Well, we’ll find it eventually,” Stephen sighed.  “Though I am very tempted to just use the Eye of Agamotto to get through this in the next two minutes.”

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to save that for serious problems,” you remarked.

“Yeah, well, I can think of a lot of other things I’d seriously rather be doing right now,” Stephen grumbled.  You hummed in quiet agreement, but, to your relief, Stephen didn’t actually reach for the relic around his neck; as much as you wanted to be able to focus on him, too, neither of you needed for him to create the potential for alternate timelines or altered reality or any of the other things that could come from the wanton use of a magical item that could literally rewind and speed up time.

You and Stephen soon fell into your own headspaces, all of your attention on the task at hand.  For a long, long stretch of time, during which you made it through the first 300 pages of your book, there was nothing but the sound of the two of you breathing and the steady swish of paper as each page was turned.

Abruptly, the Cloak began moving beneath Stephen, jostling him around. 

“Hey, what’s—I’m reading!  I’m doing the right thing,” Stephen protested.  “What are you mad at me about now?”  But the Cloak, being unable to answer, simply continued to ripple and flutter, pushing Stephen up into a sitting position and pulling itself out from beneath him.

“I think he decided he was tired of being laid on,” you said with an amused chuckle as the Cloak went to hang himself up on a coathanger kept by the bed.

“He messed up my robes,” Stephen grumbled as he was dropped back on the bed, shifting his hips and trying to straighten out the layers of his Sorcerer Supreme attire, which was now rumpled underneath him.  “Oh, fuck it, I’m just going to put something more comfortable on,” he muttered after a moment when it became apparent that fixing his outfit was going to be more bother than it was worth.  He waved his hands, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as his deep blue robes turned into his favorite baby blue Columbia hoodie and a pair of dark grey sweatpants.

“Better?”  You asked, amused.

“Yeah,” Stephen agreed, already back to flipping through the book he was holding.  You turned your attention back to yours, parsing through as quickly as you could.  Within another couple hundred pages, though, you found your shoulder and neck getting a little stiff from how you were propped up on Stephen’s pillows.  You shifted your weight, trying to wiggle into a comfortable position.

You thought you had it figured out until a couple hundred pages later, when you once again had to adjust yourself.  A whole day of teaching curse-breaking plus a couple hours of hunching over that little table in the library had really left you achier than you’d expected.

“You’re distracting me,” Stephen voiced from beside you.  “Can’t you stop squirming?”  You rolled your eyes, glancing over at him.  He always looked so undeniably soft and cuddly in his sweats, and right now was no exception, no matter how prickly he was acting.

Suddenly, an idea came to you.

You picked yourself up and turned your whole body, laying your head down on Stephen’s lap and stretching your legs out across his bed. 

“What are you doing?”  Stephen asked; you could feel his thighs tense beneath you, and when you turned to answer him, you realized that he was frozen in place, his hands stilling where they’d been magically flipping through the book, as if he was completely unsure of what to do.

“Getting comfy, so I can stop distracting you,” you replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is more distracting,” Stephen said under his breath.

“Mm,” you hummed.  “It’s comfier for me, though, so….”

Stephen was silent for a moment before dropping his hands and relaxing some of the tension in his thighs.

“Is it really?”  He finally asked.

You made a content mm-hmm­ in agreement, and Stephen let out a somewhat resigned sigh in response, making no effort to move you or verbally remand you for your decision.

You smiled to yourself, turning your attention away from Stephen and beginning to flip through your book again.  The steady swish of paper above your head told you that Stephen was doing the same.

You were coming up on finishing up the first thousand pages of your book (officially halfway!) when you felt something tugging softly on your hair.  When you turned to see what was going on—had you gotten your hair caught under one of Stephen’s legs, somehow?—you were surprised to instead find Stephen’s fingers, shaking as they tentatively played with one of your locks.

“Is this all right?”  He said, his voice low and quiet as his fingers stilled under your gaze.

“Yeah.  Feels nice, actually,” you murmured, your eyes soft as you regarded him.

“Mm,” he hummed in response, letting his fingers begin to move again, twirling and brushing through your hair in unsteady, tentative movements.  As you both returned to your books, he gradually became more confident, letting his fingers card through more and more of your hair, alternating between running it between his digits and smoothing it down in gentle, slow strokes.  Soon, his fingers were even brushing up against your scalp, providing soothing stimulation as he ran his fingertips through the roots of your hair.

You leaned into his touch as he did so, allowing yourself to make a small mewl of pleasure.

“You like that?”  Stephen asked, and when you glanced up at him, you were surprised to once again see that same eagerness to have gotten the right answer that you’d seen earlier, when you were both working hunched over the table together.  His lips were slightly parted as he looked down at you, desire and fascination intermingling in his gaze.

You were suddenly extremely grateful that the Cloak had cockblocked the two of you.  This was so much better than if you’d just fucked each other.

“I do,” you breathed, fluttering your eyes closed and letting your lips part as Stephen ran his fingers along your scalp again just to see the effect it would have on him.  When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of his chest rising and falling just slightly faster and harder than usual, his pupils blown.

God, he was a gorgeous, gorgeous man.  You wanted to absolutely wreck him tonight.  You wanted to twist him around your little finger, to experience the depths of devotion he obviously had for you, to watch him shake and shudder beneath you while you praised him and pleased him in turn—

 “I was, um,” Stephen began, his lips still parted as he continued to regard you.  “I was wondering what you thought about red and blue as our colors.  For the gala,” he clarified.  “I know I mentioned it earlier, but now that you’re officially going with me….”

“You want me wearing your colors for all of Stark Industries and the Avengers to see, is that it, Doctor Strange?”  You asked knowingly, though not without keeping your voice soft and low and allowing a lazy smile to pull at your lips.

Stephen ran his fingers through your hair again as he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I do,” he murmured.  “I really, really do.”

Your smile grew at his words, and you reached back with one hand, slipping it under Steven’s thigh and gently rubbing the firm flesh you found there.

“That can be arranged,” you agreed, turning back to look at your book before the needy look Stephen was just barely disguising drove you absolutely wild.  “Are you thinking of a blue suit for yourself, then?”

“Blue suit, white shirt, darker blue tie.  Black shoes.  And Cloak, of course,” he added,  “for the pop of red and the levitation powers.  And because I don’t really go anywhere without him anymore.”

You began flipping through your book again, smiling to yourself.  He hadn’t just considered this offhand today; he’d thought about it. Thoroughly.

“And what about me?”  You asked, unable to resist.  “Do you see me in a blue dress or a red dress?”

Stephen was silent for a moment, and even without looking at him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“I see you in whatever dress you want,” he finally answered carefully.

You smiled at this reply.  He was trying.

“That’s a good answer,” you admitted, continuing to gently work the firm flesh of the back of Stephen’s thigh.  “But really, Stephen.  You said earlier that you don’t see yourself at the Gala without me, so I’m curious: what do you see me in when I’m there in your mind?”

Stephen drew in a slow breath, turning page after page after page of his book as he exhaled slowly.

“I thought red and gold at first,” he finally said, the hand that was entwined in your hair running through it once more, then smoothing it down, then repeating itself again, “but then I realized that Stark would probably take that as some sign that you were a huge fan of his or something, so I had to throw that idea out the window.  The last thing I need is Tony thinking my date is there for him and not me.”

You laughed quietly in amusement; red and gold had seemed like it would be a good choice at the start of Stephen’s sentence, but you definitely saw how those colors would be reserved for the host of the gala himself.

 “Blue, then?”  You asked, though you were already sure of the answer.

“Blue.  Though I envision a little bit more of a royal blue than my suit or robes, to bring out your complexion and provide a little matching contrast between us,” he replied.

“That actually sounds like it might work.  We could match my dress to your tie,” you mused, continuing to flip through the pages of your book.  “How do you know that royal blue would bring out my complexion, though?” 

Stephen chuckled at this, grazing his fingers along your scalp in the most scandalously delicious way.

“I told you I remember things about you with crystal clarity, didn’t I?”  He murmured, and you actually felt a little heat rise up to your cheeks at this.

You’d never imagined that Stephen paid attention to even these small, relatively insignificant things about you.  You couldn’t even be sure of the last time that you’d worn royal blue, though you were sure you had at some point over the years.

“Right,” is all you said, hoping that the way that you were continuing to flip through your book and rub Stephen’s thigh would conceal some of your own shock.  “Will you come dress shopping with me sometime, then?”  You asked after a beat.

Stephen’s hand continued its steady rhythm through your hair.  Stroke, rest, repeat.  For a moment, you were worried; as Sorcerer Supreme, the earth needed him.  Did he really have enough spare time in his day to take you dress shopping?

“I’d be delighted to,” he murmured, and you felt the anxiety in your chest loosen.

Something told you he’d always have enough time for you.  And if he didn’t have enough, he’d make more.

Literally.

“Next Saturday?”  You asked, turning away from your book once more to look up at Stephen.  You couldn’t help but feel a soft smile pulling at your lips.  You’d fought the Zealots, interdimensional monsters, and innumerable mystic threats with this man, but the thought of going dress shopping with him made you feel more excited than you had expected.

You supposed it had to do with the fact that the two of you lived such a hard life together, full of battle and teaching and training and investigating, always pushing back against the evil forces that threatened the world.  The chance to do something as mundane and romantic and soft as dress shopping together felt undeniably thrilling.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Stephen responded, his voice quiet and smooth.

Still smiling, you slipped your hand out from behind his leg and reached up for his hand, which was still running through your hair gently.  You carefully disentangled his fingers from your hair, then entwined your fingers with his.  His large, long digits shook and occasionally spasmed against yours, and the unusual ridges of his dozens of surgical scars felt foreign against your skin, but you didn’t care.  His hand was warm and comforting in yours, and you could feel his magic flowing through him and into yourself like a low undercurrent of electricity that hummed of his very being.  You imagined that your magic was flowing into him in return in a reciprocal energetic connection that spoke of the ways in which the two of you were becoming more and more intertwined with one another.

Stephen ran his broad thumb back and forth over your hand, his blue eyes soft as they held your gaze.  Finally, he returned his attention back to his book, and you did the same, reminding yourself to stay patient.  You and Stephen were in the last half of your books now; you’d be able to turn your full attention to him soon enough.

Fortunately for you, that moment came sooner than later as you flicked over a few more pages and saw a small inset image of a man with tentacles on his face.

“There he is!”  You exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and letting go of Stephen’s hand in favor of snatching the book out of midair.  “Fucking finally!”

“Where?” Stephen said, sitting upright too and scooting closer to you. You moved closer to him in turn until he was leaning over your shoulder so closely that your back was pressed against his broad chest.

“Right here,” you said, pointing out the small picture as you scanned the surrounding text for any clues as to who you were looking at.

“Chthon,” Stephen said after a moment, pointing out the text that identified the betentacled man.  “The world’s first black magician.  Said to be of the race of Elder Gods and brought back to Earth by Morgan le Fey.”

“No further discussion of this most foul, yet mighty, arcane being, nor of his legacy, the Darkhold, shall be had within these pages, for even their mere mention, though necessary, invites corruption, pestilence, and devastation to all those who read this page,” you said, reading the next line aloud.  As you did, a heavy dread settled in your stomach and a shiver passed down your spine.  Stephen must have felt it, too, for he wound one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to himself.

“I just got the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach,” he murmured.

“Me, too,” you agreed.  His arm tightened even further around you.

“Whatever this Darkhold is, and whatever this Chthon has done, it’s ancient and powerful magic,” Stephen rumbled, and you could practically hear the frown in his voice.

“It is,” you nodded solemnly as you scanned the rest of the page.  Unfortunately, as promised, it never mentioned Chthon or the Darkhold again.  You made a mental note of the page number it was on, then closed the book and set it aside with a sigh.  “Well, at least we have a start.  We’ve got a face and a name.”

“We do,” Stephen agreed, setting his chin on your shoulder.  “And Kamar-Taj has Morgan le Fey’s personal journals in the Special Archives, so I think we’ll have a lot more than just that soon enough.”

The beginnings of hope stirred in the pit of your stomach with this new information, chasing away the sense of dread that had settled over you.  Whatever this was was bad—world-altering, life-ending bad—but as long as you had Stephen, everything would be okay.  If anyone could put together the pieces of this mystery, it was the smartest man you knew.

You turned in Stephen’s hold, settling your hands on the breadth of his shoulders and regarding him fondly.

“You’re pretty brilliant sometimes, you know that, Sorcerer Supreme?”  You murmured, bringing one hand up to cup the side of his cheek.  He leaned into your touch the slightest bit, his eyes fluttering closed as he covered your hand in his, pressing your palm to his skin more firmly.  As he did, you could feel the sense of dread that had settled in his body dissipating into thin air.

“I could never do any of this without you,” he rumbled, the vibrations of his voice echoing through his chest and into yours.  He turned and pressed a kiss into the open palm of your hand, then smiled against your skin, a small chuckle escaping him.  “In fact, that was reason number seven on the list of reasons why I wanted you as my date to the Gala.”

Something flipped in your mind at his words.

Maybe you did want to hear that list, after all, you decided as Stephen began pressing soft kisses to the inside of your wrist, the bristles of his perfectly groomed beard tickling and scratching your sensitive skin.

“That is a pretty good reason,” you admitted as he inched higher up the inside of your arm, giving you another kiss and another and another, even as his lips curled into a smile at your words.

“I knew you’d think so,” he murmured, blue eyes glancing up at you through his dark lashes.  You once again recognized the self-satisfied look he wore when he got something right; it was just barely disguising an underlying need to get more and more things right about you.

“What was reason number eight, then?”  You breathed, carding your fingers through Stephen’s hair as he began working his way up to your bicep, pressing kisses to the muscle and then to your shoulder as he worked higher and higher still.

He paused at your words, his lips now hovering over your collarbone.  He pressed a kiss there and then delivered another one before pausing again over your neck, his beard scratching over your pulse point as he smiled.

“Let’s, um, let’s actually start at reason number one,” he said, sounding a little sheepish.  Ordinarily, you’d wonder what the reason for his sudden hesitation was, but moments later, he began nipping and kissing at your neck, working his way up to your jawline, and your only thought became the need to tip your head back to grant him as much access as possible.

“All right,” you acquiesced, your mind beginning to grow hazy with desire.  “Let’s hear it, Stephen.”

“I like having you around,” he mumbled against the column of your throat, punctuating his sentences with kisses there, too.  “I like being around you.  And when I’m away from you,” he added, moving up to your jawline once again.  He pressed a kiss there, too, then hovered his lips over yours. One of his big hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you close but not quite close enough to give you the pressure on your lips you so desperately craved.  “I miss you.  I’d miss you the whole night long if I were at that gala with anyone else.”

 “Even Wong?”  You breathed, unable to resist being sassy.

A bubble of laughter escaped Stephen at this, his lips grazing over your own with the movement.

“Even Wong,” he agreed, and you laughed and pulled him in for a messy, clumsy kiss, bumping noses and your teeth clacking against his as the two of you laughed and held each other and molded your mouths together around your smiles.  The low, languid energetic buzz of the universe around you tumbled upwards, escalating in pitch the more your magic and laughter and mouth entwined with Stephen’s.  Your veins were on fire; your heart was burning, aching, searing from the fullness of feeling him—his magic, his energy, maybe even his very being—flooding into you.  You didn’t know which it was. It could be all of them or one of them; it could be that it was impossible to separate out Stephen Strange from his own magic.  Maybe, by now, he was magic.

But if that was true, he was your magic, and you were his.

You had to have him; you had to have all of him, and you had to let him have all of you. 

Almost as if you’d decided on it together, he began to lay back, and you pressed further into him, tangling your fingers in his larger ones and pinning his hands to the mattress by the side of his head just as you pinned his broader frame with your smaller one.

“It would have killed me to see anyone else on your arm at that gala,”  you admitted, speaking your words around your open-mouthed kisses to him.

“It would have killed me to go with anyone else,” he admitted right back as a flood of triumph surged into your system from him.

So this was what it felt like to be Stephen Strange when he got something right.  You could see how the mountain-sized kick of dopamine his system provided him could get addicting.

As his tongue slipped into your mouth, taking dominance of the kiss back from you, you had to admit: you could also see how he could get addicting.

“Let’s hear the second reason,” you said, pulling away from the kiss.  Stephen chased after you, craning his neck up to try to recapture your lips in his. It wasn’t lost on you that he left his hands pinned underneath yours, even though he could easily overpower you and pull you back down to take the kiss he so obviously wanted.  And oh, by the Vishanti, did he look gorgeous with his eyes half-closed, his expression already half-drunk on you as he yearned for you.  The things you could do to him, the ways you could wreck him and please him—

Stephen suddenly stopped chasing your lips, setting his head back on the pillow and regarding you with wide eyes and lips parted. You had to assume that, just as his elation at having done well with his first reason had spilled into your consciousness, your desire to see Stephen absolutely ruined for you, begging for your touch and praise, was flooding his mind.

“Second reason,” he repeated breathlessly, his fingers trembling as they squeezed yours just a little tighter.  “Second reason.”

“Second reason,” you repeated with a breathy laugh, squeezing his hands back as you lowered your head and kissed the strong column of his throat.

“It is astonishingly hard to remember what I’m supposed to say right now,” Stephen rumbled, his voice dropping into his low range, reverberating against your mouth.

“Use your all-powerful photographic memory, Stephen,” you snickered, sucking and biting at the skin just under his jawline, then soothing the mark you’d made with your tongue.

“I’m trying.  Fuck.  Fucking shit,” he hissed as you began thinking particularly hard about working your way further down his body until you were pulling his sweatpants and boxers down and sucking his cock.  You felt his hips buck beneath you as you imagined touching your lips to his tip—

And then, suddenly, your foot-in-mouth senses began going off, perhaps louder than ever before due to the fact that there was no distance between the two of you, physically or magically speaking.

“I’m bigger than what you’re imagining,” Stephen said smugly, apparently perfectly able to focus on that, of all things.

“Of course, you are,” you grumbled, immediately dropping the mental image you’d been conjuring up. It figured that Stephen would be cocky, smart, powerful, and hung.

“Trust me, you’ll be happy about it in the long run,” Stephen grinned beneath you as he sent a soft surge of magic into your palms, gently pushing your hands away from his.  Once his hands were free, he wrapped them around you, his fingers spreading wide as they moved across your back, holding you close and pulling you up to give you another kiss.  His open mouth met yours with a hunger that you didn’t know that careful, controlled, clever Stephen could possess, and you melted into him willingly.  “Second reason,” he said when he finally pulled back for air.  Your mind felt astoundingly clear for having just been kissed senseless, but moments later, you realized why.  “I told you this one earlier, actually, but when I’ve got you in my arms, I feel calm, like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

For the first time, you could feel what he felt when he held you.  You always felt calm in Stephen’s arms, but what he felt was a profoundly grounding experience, as if you could take all the chaos and energy and sheer force-of-nature power that was Stephen Strange and rearrange it into something cohesive just by your presence and proximity.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?”  Stephen asked, stroking your cheek with one thumb and looking at you admiringly.  “A lot of times, I can even tell where you are in the Sanctum based on this feeling.  But it’s strongest when I’m holding you.”

“It’s…” you started, your mind running a mile a minute.  Beautiful.  Electrifying.  Magical.  A thousand times better than my foot-in-mouth senses.

Stephen laughed at this, a low, almost melodic chuckle that you rarely heard from him.

“Having just experienced your foot-in-mouth senses, I agree with you on all accounts,” he grinned.

“I really got the short end of whatever magical stick we both got when we met each other,” you agreed, and another genuine, melodic laugh came from Stephen at this.

“That’s reason number three, by the way,” he said, the hand that had been on your cheek tangling into the hair at the back of your head and pulling you in for another kiss. His other hand slipped underneath your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly as they explored your back.

“What is?”  You asked as you pulled away from Stephen enough to slip your hands under his baby blue Columbia hoodie.  “My foot-in-mouth senses?”  As you sat back enough to do so, your hips rocked into his cock, which was straining against his sweatpants, already hard.

Shit.  He was bigger than you’d imagined.

“Told you,” Stephen said with a smirk, lazily grinding his hips up into yours.  You tried your best to remain mentally unperturbed by the fact that he was right; you didn’t want to give him that pleasure.  The last thing you needed was for Stephen Strange to develop even more of a complex than he already had.

But he did feel delicious against you as he ground up into your core.  The friction he could provide was tantalizing, and you couldn’t help but imagine, for the briefest of nanoseconds before you regained control over yourself, how good he’d feel, filling you and stretching you and fucking you.

A hit of dopamine flooded your system at this, and you knew that, despite your best efforts, Stephen had sensed your momentary weakness, and he felt fucking great about it.

“That’s it.  You’re gonna feel so good all full of me, baby girl,” he mumbled against your lips, his big hands sliding up and down the sides of your waist.

Oh, God, he wasn’t supposed to sound that good dirty-talking you.  He’d barely even said anything, and you were getting soaking wet for him.  Could you blame yourself, though?  His voice was so low and smooth, and his hands felt electrifying on you, and his cock was still grinding up into your core desperately—

“Third reason,” you said, your voice breathy and shaky as you skimmed your fingers along the sides of his waist in turn, up to his ribs and down to the sharp lines of his svelte hips.

A low chuckle erupted from Stephen at this, and moments later, you were hit by the awareness that you thought that you were going to be the one to have him underneath you, shaking and mewling and begging for praise, but he was going to do everything in his power to make you be the one coming unraveled for him.  His thoughts were leaking into your mind, visions of him hovering over you, his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead as he filled you, rocking you into the bed—

That competitive bastard.  This was payback for that earlier thought about sucking his cock; you were sure of it.

If Stephen Strange wanted to try to play this game, he could go right ahead.  You were going to win it, though.

“I want to hear the third reason,” you repeated yourself with more confidence, trying to regain control of the situation by lifting your hips and lips away from his and resting your hands on his pectorals.  They rippled beneath you, lean yet larger than you’d remembered.  Since when had that happened?

Another hit of dopamine flowed into you from Stephen.  Shit, you thought, irritated with yourself.  You hadn’t meant to give him that satisfaction.

Stephen smiled beneath you, clearly very pleased with the dynamic emerging here.

“The third reason,” he said, sliding your shirt up and over your shoulders.  You pulled back from him enough to help him, once again sitting back on his cock as it strained against his sweatpants, “is that you’re literally one of the only people I find funny.  Trying to banter with anyone else is like talking to a wet rag.”  You tugged at his sweatshirt, pulling it up and signaling to him that he should discard it, and he sat up to help you strip it off of him.  “Even this,” he said, tossing his Columbia sweatshirt aside and wrapping his arms around you.  “This connection, this…whatever we’re doing.  I love it.”

You let your hands clutch at Stephen’s well-muscled shoulders as he pulled you in close until your chest was flush against his. A hungry look passed over his face as he lowered his head down toward you once again, slotting his mouth over yours.

He kissed you with that searing intensity and desire that you were learning lived deep inside Stephen, his hands pinning your hips down to his.  At the same time, he rutted up into you, his growing desperation to receive and give friction seeping into you.

Oh, by the Vishanti, it felt good.  Everything about this felt good; the steady drag of his cock against your core, even through your clothing, was just what you needed, but you could also feel Stephen’s pleasure and how turned on he was. Your consciousness was almost overcome with how excited he was to be finally grinding up into you, to be the one in bed with you, making you feel good—

Something clicked in your mind, and you decided you were going about this all wrong.  If you engaged Stephen in the battle of wills he was trying to bait you into, you were going to lose.  There was, quite simply, no one in the universe as strong-willed as the Sorcerer Supreme.  No, you were going to win Stephen over by giving into him.

It was remarkably simple, really. If you tried to keep pretending that Stephen didn’t phase you, you were just going to end up accidentally goading him into trying to prove to you and himself alike that he did, in fact, have the power to make you come apart at the seams.  But if you admitted how much you liked the things he could do to you, he’d spend all night chasing your high, doing everything he could for you.

If he was excited to be making you feel good, then God, you wanted him to know the full intensity of the fire he stoked in you and the electricity he put in your veins.  Foreplay with him was already worlds better than any foreplay you’d ever had with anyone else.  You’d never experienced this level of magical connection with another human—had never even known it was possible, even—and you wanted to let it keep going deeper, to let him fuck you just right and to take care of him and that perfect, absolutely gorgeous body of his until he gave everything he had to you.

Stephen’s mouth moving against yours slowed as his mind struggled to keep up with the onslaught of desire from you.  Finally, he pulled back, pupils blown and lips swollen from being kissed so thoroughly.

“You do think I’m pretty,” he rumbled.

It took you a long moment, but you finally remembered your conversation in the morning as you’d portalled yourself over to Kamar-Taj. 

Don’t you worry your pretty head over it, Stephen.

You think I’m pretty?

“I think you’re fucking beautiful,” you purred, no longer holding back your emotions.  As expected, a kick of dopamine hit your system from Stephen’s.  “I think you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever so much as laid eyes on.”  More dopamine.  “Even your grey hairs are the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.  Let me take care of you, Stephen.  My stunning, handsome man.”  Another jolt of elation and desire.

“I want to take care of you, too, sweetheart,” he said, his voice shaky.  “I want to fuck you so good.  Make you all mine.”

“You will,” you promised him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “I promise, baby, you will.  But you want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You waited a moment with bated breath.  If you were right about this—about the fact that he would only fight you for control if he felt like he had something to prove to you—he’d melt into your openness and unabashed passion for him while striving to overachieve and please you.

And if you were wrong, he was going to be in control, and you had a feeling you would be in for an interesting night full of power play after power play.

“Of course,” Stephen finally breathed. “Anything you want.  I’m all yours, darling.”

“My beautiful man,” you sighed, holding his face—his pretty, perfectly sculpted face—between your hands and kissing him hard.  As you did, you thought about how you wanted him to unclasp your bra and free you from it.

Stephen grunted, moving with all haste to undo your bra clasp.  His fingers shook violently as he attempted the task at first; it wasn’t until you felt him direct more of his magical energy to stabilize his fingers that he was able to accomplish his goal.  Once he did, though, you helped him shimmy your bra off your shoulders.  The moment he cast it to the side, you pressed yourself against his chest again, savoring the heat of his smooth skin on yours and kissing him deeply.

“Thank you,” you sighed into his mouth as you took his hands, moving them onto the sides of your breasts and moaning as his trembling fingers came into contact with your skin.  “That’s so much better.”

“Anything for you,” Stephen breathed, his fingers tracing your curves tentatively, though you could feel the overwhelming hunger that was at the core of him urging him to claim you, to bite you and leave marks all over the softness of your tits and inner thighs.

“What reason are we on?”  You asked as you pulled back from his chest just enough to allow your breasts to be bared to him.  Without his heat to keep you warm, you could feel your nipples pebbling in the cool air, and you longed for Stephen to play with them. Beneath yourself, Stephen’s cock stiffened even further, and an awareness of the fact that he was aching from being so hard for you, from craving your touch so thoroughly, filled your mind.

“The fourth,” Stephen breathed, fulfilling your desires by sliding his hands across the soft plushness of your breasts, savoring and groping at their curves until he came to your nipples.  A gasp left your mouth at the electric tingle of his magic that surged through his fingertips and into your flesh as he stabilized his hands enough to allow himself to roll your hardened peaks between his thumb and forefinger.  At your reaction, the briefest, most split-second feeling of shame and embarrassment trickled into you from Stephen.  Short though it was—blink and you’d miss it—it was powerfully intense, buoyed to the surface of his consciousness by fears that he’d never be good enough in bed for you, that he’d hurt you with his clumsiness or his magic, or that you’d be turned off by his hands.  You tasted all those fears at once, and then, abruptly, they were gone, pushed away from the surface and away from you.

Well.  You couldn’t have that.

“That felt really good,” you said, sitting back on Stephen’s lap so that you were on full display for the man underneath you.  Firmly and confidently, you put your hands on Stephen’s and redirected them back to your breasts.  “That tingle of magic…right…there,” you breathed, moving his scarred fingers back to where they had just been.  “Fuck, that’s…that’s really sexy, Stephen.”

Stephen’s lips parted as he watched you with lust-blown eyes, his gaze fixed on where your hands intertwined over your tits.

“You…you’re not just saying this to make me feel better,” he finally said, continuing to do his best to please you with his fingers and his magic.  “You like this.  A lot.”

“When do I ever say things just to make you feel better, Stephen?”  You moaned, biting your lip and clutching at his hands as they became bolder in their manipulations.

“I know, it’s just, I….they’re ruined,” he finally admitted quietly, his hands stilling for a moment.  “Why would you want—”

“They’re sexy, you idiot,” you fired back, though not without affection in your voice.  “You have big hands with slender, long fingers and dozens of mysterious scars from a tragic accident, and you pour magic into them to help them work.  And the magic feels good to me.  You’re in my brain; surely, you can see how this is a turn-on.”

“I…yes?”  He finally said, beginning to move his fingers again.  “I can.  I can,” he repeated, as if reassuring himself.

It helps that they’re yours, you added mentally.  Every part of you is gorgeous to me.

Out loud, however, you uttered a simple “good boy” as he began playing with your tits in earnest again.

Stephen’s mind reacted to both these things with fireworks, a rush of positive emotions flooding through him and through you as he groaned out loud, a beautiful, low sound in his chest.

Strong arms wrapped around you, hitching you up on his lap before pulling you back down towards him. He captured one of your nipples in the warmth of his mouth, his tongue working deftly to swirl and flick at your hardened peak while his hands moved down to grope and squeeze your ass.

“I still owe you that fourth reason,” he said, moving his mouth over the soft expanse of your breast, kissing and biting you in his bid to mark you as he intended.

“Let’s hear it, then,” you purred, grinding yourself down onto Stephen’s still-clothed cock and carding your fingers through the greys of his hair.

“I want to make you laugh,” he said, then moved over to your other breast, marking it the way he’d marked the first.  “And get you drinks.”  Another hickey, followed by his tongue soothing your skin.  “And hold you in my arms.”  A soft bite and a soft, slow kiss to your flesh.  “And dance with you.  You, and no one else.”  At this, his mouth covered your other nipple, lavishing it with the attention the first side had received.

“Oh, Stephen,” you sighed.  “Say that again.”

You didn’t have to clarify; you already knew he could understand what you were thinking about.

“You, and no one else,” he repeated lowly, his hands squeezing your hips and pulling you as close to him as was physically possible.

Then, to your surprise, he sent a tingle of magic through his tongue as he closed his mouth over your flesh once again, and you swore your vision went white with bliss and shock for an instant.

The first thought you had that broke through the pleasure was that you wanted him to try that somewhere else.

Stephen laughed at this, closing his mouth over your nipple again and sending his magic through his tongue once more as he flicked and toyed with your peak.  You whined and squirmed in his hold until he finally pulled away, scraping his teeth on your nub as he went.

“Does my pretty baby want to ride my face while I do that?”  He asked, his hands squeezing your hips encouragingly.

“Yes,” you gasped, and Stephen’s smile grew wider.  “Oh, Stephen, yes.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he rumbled, his hands moving to slide your leggings and panties down.  You lifted your hips to help him, only to eventually find yourself irritated enough by trying to strip while kneeling to just magic them away into a pile on the floor.  Stephen chuckled at this, his broad palms moving over your soft thighs as his eyes raked hungrily over every last inch of you.  “You’re beautiful,” he practically purred, his hands skimming back up to your hips.  Magic flowed through him and into you as he lifted you like you were feather-light, pulling you up over his shoulders until your core was situated over his face.  He breathed in and out, the air from his lungs hot and teasing on your core, and you could feel, in your own mind, the way he was savoring the scent of you.

You’re so beautiful.  Stephen’s voice, clear and strong and deep, murmured into your thoughts as he turned to bite and suck at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.  You squirmed and squealed at the sometimes-harsh contact and the bristle of his goatee on your skin, but nevertheless, you allowed him to mark you the way he wanted, especially since he was slowly working his way inwards toward your dripping pussy.  You have no idea how beautiful I think you are, do you?

As he finished the thought, you were hit by a rush of memories, all photographic, picture-perfect in a way that your mind was not capable of achieving.

You, coming down the stairs at the Sanctum Sanctorum first thing in the morning, your pajamas on and the sunlight illuminating your face.  A smile crossed your sleepy features when you saw Stephen had just come back safely from an emergency visit to the London Sanctum, and you felt the way his heart ached at the thought that another man might be the one to see that smile every morning and not him. 

Beautiful, Stephen thought.

You, shielding his battered and magically paralyzed body with your own, your knees on either side of his chest and the muscles in your arms and shoulders flexing as you struggled to contain the strength of the energy and rage building inside you, channeling it into a spell to vanquish your enemy.

Beautiful.

You, laughing at some dumb joke he’d made.  You, your nose buried in a translation book, the setting sun framing you in the library window.  You, standing tall as your hands worked quickly, sorting through magic runes as they floated and twisted in the air, fighting to break an ancient curse as the ground beneath the two of you shook.

Beautiful.

You, covered in mud and the smell of smoke and little specks of Styrofoam, beaming from ear to ear as you told him all about the sorcerers you’d been working with today.

Beautiful.  You’re beautiful, inside and out, and that’s reason number five, because you make the world light up everywhere you go.

His nose gently parted your folds as his hands held your hips firmly, and finally, finally, his tongue darted out to lick a slow, almost gentle stripe up your core. Satisfaction with the taste of you surged through him and, in turn, through you.

“Stephen,” you breathed.  He moaned into your pussy, a delightfully low, deep reverberation that had you gripping his hair and grinding down onto his mouth for more friction.

You shine, Stephen thought into your brain as he began eating you out like a man starved.  You shine in every single way, and I want the world to see that. And tonight, I want to worship you for it.

God, you wanted his worship in a way you didn’t even know you could.

Yes, you thought back to him.  Be good to your pretty baby, Stephen.  Make me feel so good I can’t even remember my own name.  You can do it.  If anyone can, it’s you.

His tongue was perfection against your cunt; being in your brain the way he was, he knew everything you wanted, the perfect angle and pressure to apply, and where to move to provide you with just the right stimulation. Thanks to the magical connection between the two of you, he knew you as intimately as you knew yourself. As you grew wetter and wetter under his care, soaking his chin and his goatee with your juices and his saliva, you could feel your ever-mounting pleasure seeping into his brain, rebounding into yours and reverberating between the two of you like a building echo chamber of bliss.

“That’s my pretty baby,” Stephen moaned aloud into your pussy.  “Letting me have her perfect little pussy, telling me exactly how to make her feel good.  Do you feel good, beautiful?”

Oh, by the Vishanti, he knew you did.

“I want to hear you say it,” he rumbled, and you swore you saw stars at how good the vibrations of his deep voice felt against your heat.

“I feel so good,” you affirmed breathlessly, only for an ache of wanting to reach through you.  Stephen wanted more of your praise, and he wanted you to say his name while you praised him.  God, he ached for your praise in a way that almost hurt.  “Oh, Stephen,” you crooned, carding both your hands through his hair as his cerulean blue eyes flitted up to make contact with yours, even as his tongue began fucking in and out of your hole.  “My good boy.  My beautiful, gorgeous, perfect man.  Who’d have thought you have a perfect tongue that knows just where to be on me?  You make me feel so good, Stephen.  Better than even I can make myself feel.  You’re making my pussy so wet for you, so ready to be filled and taken.  You will take me, won’t you?”

Stephen’s grip on your hips tightened.

“Gods, yes,” Stephen groaned into your core.

“You’ll fuck me out of my mind with your tongue, and then you’ll fuck me and fill me with your cock, won’t you?”

“Please,” Stephen said, his voice strangled.  “Please let me.”

“I’ll let you, Stephen,” you promised him.  “I’ll let you.  My good boy.”

 Stephen’s efforts to please you only increased at this.  You rapidly became blinded by pleasure, a coil beginning to build in your stomach more quickly than ever before thanks to the way your pleasure became his became yours again.

After a long moment of basking in the tumultuous climb to your peak, Stephen removed one of his hands from where he was firmly holding onto your hips and keeping them pressed into his face.

Watch, he ordered you, and you obeyed, turning over your shoulder to see what he wanted you to see, though, in a sense, you already knew.

Still, it was a delicious sight to watch Stephen move slowly, pushing his waistband down inch by inch.  You could see it snag on his cock, could see the way his hard thickness was being pushed down slightly into a smattering of immaculately groomed, short, dark hair as his waistband inched ever further away from you.  He wasbig, nice and girthy and veiny; oh, by the Vishanti, you wanted those thick, manly veins and that fat, heavy cock in your cunt so badly. You needed him, needed that perfect cock that you could only see some of and that you already knew you loved.

The pleasure that shot through you from Stephen at this was almost enough to make you cum on his lips right then and there.

“Shit,” he mumbled into your cunt, hand stilling for a moment as he panted heavily.  “Shit, I almost came, too.  Didn’t ex…didn’t expect you to want it so badly.”

The thought that you had almost just made the Sorcerer Supreme of all of Earth nearly come in his pants without so much as actually touching him crossed your mind, and you had to admit, you were pretty into it.

That’s what you do to me, pretty baby.  You drive me wild, he thought back to you, taking a deep breath as he watched you move your hand to your clit, which was beginning to ache with the lack of attention it was receiving while Stephen focused on not coming just yet. 

 Finally, he began moving again, mentally imploring you to watch, and you did, moving your fingers on your clit faster as his cock finally sprang free of his sweatpants, bobbing up against his stomach.

You wanted so badly to touch it, to touch him, to run your fingertips along that big vein and give his tip kitten licks before taking the whole thing into your mouth—

Just before you managed to get started, though, Stephen poured magic into his tongue, and you became practically boneless with pleasure as he replaced your hand with his mouth and began teasing and flicking your clit faster than ever before.  His magic was fucking into your cunt and pleasing your clit so sweetly, so deeply, hitting places far within you that nothing physical could ever—or had ever—reached.

It was all you could do to brace one hand on the headboard while your upper body practically gave out on you.  Your pleasure, once again, reverberated into Stephen’s mind and then back into yours, and you soon found yourself sobbing his name, your other hand gripping his hair so tightly it had to hurt.

Through the haze of pleasure, though, there was something else: an iron will, a determined sentence being repeated in his voice again and again and again.

Don’t come, Stephen.  Don’t come.  I can do this.  I can ride out her pleasure.  Don’t come.

The realization hit you suddenly that if you were this close to your high, you must have been taking Stephen right along with you.  He was fighting with every ounce of his not-inconsiderable willpower to avoid tumbling over that edge with you, but what could he do against this rapidly rising tide?

“Stephen,” you gasped, fighting to pull your hips away from his beautiful, clever mouth.  His strong hands held you there in an almost bruising grip, but when you exclaimed his name again, this time with more determination and less of a keening tone, he finally let go.

“What is it, beautiful?”  He asked, his eyes full of concern for you.  “Did I hurt you?  Please tell me I didn’t hurt you with my magic, I—I didn’t—”

“No,” you reassured him, moving your hands to float yourself off his face and back over his hips, your pussy coming to rest over his shaft.  “You didn’t hurt me, Stephen; your magic felt amazing, actually.  I just don’t want you to come just yet.”  As if to emphasize your point, you ground your slick wetness up and down along his length.  “After all, I promised to let you fuck me and fill me, didn’t I?”

Stephen drew in a sharp breath, his hands returning once again to your hips, where his strong fingers fought to still your movements.

“You did.  I—just give me a minute to recover a little,” he requested, moving one hand up to your cheek when you stopped rocking your hips to let him settle back down from the precipice he’d found himself on.

“Of course,” you breathed, though you were already beginning to feel a deep ache that spoke of how empty you were at the moment.  You needed him inside you, needed the stretch of his big cockhead pushing its way into your entrance—

Fuck, pretty baby, I need you to think of something else, he hissed into your mind.

“How about reason number six, then?”  You asked, letting Stephen pull you down into a kiss that was somehow slow and languid yet hot and heavy all at once.  “I think that’s the number we’re on,” you added when you pulled back for air.

“It is,” Stephen agreed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you in a tight embrace.

Something in his energy shifted at this, and for a moment, you were worried he was going to retreat from this connection with you entirely.

Something was wrong.

“Stephen,” you breathed, chasing him as his magic pulled away from you.  You captured his energy before it was gone, and you held him tightly, desperately, both on the mystical plane and the physical one.  “Don’t go.  Don’t—don’t—just tell me what’s wrong,” you pleaded with him.

Had you hurt him?  Had you upset him somehow?  What had you done?

He stopped trying to retreat from you, and a swirl of complex emotions flooded through you, too multifaceted to be able to sort out immediately.  The one thread you did manage to identify—the one that jumped out the most at you—was an odd sense of grief and regret and fear.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen Stephen afraid of anything before.

“It’s not you, beautiful.  It’s just…I know I’ll never be able to offer you a normal life,” he finally said, burying his nose in your shoulder.  “Our lives are constantly in danger because of who we are and what we do.  There will probably never be a time when we’re not dealing with mystic threats, and that’s especially true for me, because I’m forever bound to my duties as Sorcerer Supreme.  But you…you could walk away from this, if you needed to.”

“This is a really, really weird reason to want to take me to the gala, Stephen,” you said in a feeble attempt to try to make light of whatever the hell was going on here.  “Gotta say, I don’t get it.”

Unsurprisingly, your attempt at humor didn’t work; his heart remained heavy, and you swore you felt tears pricking at your eyes that weren’t your own.

“Being with me is a risk.  An extraordinary one,” he continued, his goatee grazing the skin of the crook of your neck as he spoke.  “People who are close to me have already gotten hurt or killed, and I’m sure they’re not going to be the end of it.  So if there comes a time where you decide that this life isn’t for you—the Mystic Arts, the Sanctum, me—I’ll understand.  But in the meanwhile, if we can share even one night of being together like a normal couple, of getting to…to forget about who we are and the Mystic Arts and just be together, dressed up on a night out…then I really, really want to do that with you.  I want that memory of us, together.”

An undercurrent of emotion swept through you from Stephen.  There was a longing to have just been your non-magical, rich doctor husband, to have somehow met and immersed you in his world before it was turned upside down by his car accident.  There was a fear that the day would come when you’d need to leave the Mystic Arts, and there was a fear that even separating yourself from all you’d known, from him, might not be enough to keep you safe.  Along with that fear came a powerful urge to protect you, to become the strongest Sorcerer Supreme the world had ever seen, to make sure that you were never, ever separated from him by the machinations of another.

And underneath it all, there was a deep surprise that he was being so emotional about this.  When he’d written this reason out earlier, it hadn’t seemed like too big of a deal.  One normal date together could last him a lifetime, if he needed it to, and besides, people moved on all the time.  He’d done so once already.

But now, having been connected to you in this way, he knew that being separated from you would be like tearing half his heart out.  He had always loved you, but he’d never known how deeply that love ran, and now that he had finally recognized it, he was all the more profoundly affected by the fear of losing it.

It was, perhaps, the thing he feared most in the world.

“I don’t plan on leaving you or the Mystic Arts, Stephen,” you breathed, your voice shaky and tight.  “And I don’t plan on letting you be taken away from me, either.  Not again,” you added, thinking back to when he’d gone to sacrifice himself to Dormammu in order to save all of Earth.  “But all we have promised to us is the present, so let’s not worry about these things just yet.  Let’s just be together and love each other.”

He was silent for a moment, taking your words in and thinking on them.  Then, you felt earth’s master of time put aside his powerful fear of the future.  The heavy weight of it shifted off of you, and though you knew Stephen likely wasn’t over his fear entirely, at least he could focus on the present instead of dwelling in realities that were yet to manifest.

You had to admit, you were proud of him for that.

“Let me love you,” he finally rumbled, grinding his hips up into yours.  “Let me make love to you, beautiful.”

You didn’t need words to give him your consent; you let your desire for him flow through yourself and into him, and he responded with that powerful hunger that you were learning was at the core of Stephen Strange, both in his magic and in the searing kiss that he gave you as he slotted his mouth against yours and continued to grind himself into you.  You bucked your hips in turn, rubbing your wetness all over his shaft, pausing as your entrance met the bulge of his cockhead.

You couldn’t tell if you had the thought or if Stephen did, or if the two of you were thinking in an almost startling synchrony now, but the yearning to feel his thick tip stretching your walls open as he pushed inside your core flared true and strong once more.  Stephen bucked at this, groaning into your mouth as you continued to kiss him, thoughts filling his mind—and, in turn, yours—of how he was going to fuck you into the mattress, nice and slow and gentle for as long as the two of you could hold out, then fast and hard until you found your shared high together. He was going to fill you with his cock and his magic and his adoration and love for you, the way he’d been wanting to for years.

The two of you rolled together, words completely unnecessary as you both mentally agreed that Stephen would need to be on top to fulfill your shared fantasy.  Once you were underneath his broad frame, you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist, hungrily holding him close to you, and he reached down between your bodies, lining his cockhead up with you and rubbing it up and down through your folds and slick.

“Are you ready?”  Stephen murmured lowly, and you mewled and nodded, urging him on with your hands on his shoulders and your legs around his waist.

Gently, he pressed himself into you, his fat cockhead stretching you out just as you thought he would.  Stephen gasped at the sensation, wonder written across his face as he pushed slowly into your core.  The stretch you were feeling grew stronger, becoming almost painful in that tantalizing, give-me-more type of way, and Stephen stilled himself, waiting for a moment and watching you intently.

You’re not hurting me, Stephen, you reassured him in your mind.  I need you.  Please.

His lips fell apart as he drew in a shaky breath, then pushed the rest of the way inside you, hilting himself in your core.  You pulled him down into another kiss, this one gentle and soft as you struggled to make sense of all that you were feeling.  He was so full and heavy in you, and similarly, his cock felt so snug and warm and wet in you.  You were better than he’d imagined; your pussy was beautiful, perfect, his.

You mentally implored for him to begin moving, and he did, entwining his hands (shaking) with yours as he began moving his hips in gentle, slow thrusts.  His heavy cock dragged along your inner walls in a way that had you squeezing your heels into his back to encourage him to give you more; at the same time, you could feel your own pussy holding his cock like it was made for it. Like you were made for him.

Stephen dropped his head to your breasts, licking and sucking at them and sending his magic through his tongue once again.  Through it all, he refused to pick up his pace, continuing to slide in and out of you in languid, though not unattentive, movements.  You wanted him to give you more, to fuck you faster and harder and take you up to that peak that you hadn’t been far from reaching earlier, but this desire was drowned out by an increasing possessiveness from Stephen.  You wanted more of him, but he wanted to spend all night buried within you, fucking your perfect pussy nice and slow and claiming it as his with every stroke, and, as you’d said earlier, there was nobody in the world with a more unyielding will than Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme.

“Take it,” he groaned into your chest.  “Take all of my big cock in that pretty pussy of yours.  That’s my pretty baby.  Being so good for me.  Gonna let me fuck her as long as I want, because she’s all mine, isn’t she?”

“All yours, Stephen,” you gasped as he continued to rock in and out of you inch by tantalizing inch.  “I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” he growled, moving his hands to hitch up underneath your knees and press them to your shoulders.  “Mine.”

You expected him to fuck you harder in this position, but he continued to draw in and out of you in slow, tantalizing movements, his eyes often flitting down to watch the way his cock disappeared inside of you.  Despite his slow pace, your mutual pleasure stoked higher and higher, buoyed by the way you could feel everything he was experiencing and vice versa. Still, it never reached a fever pitch; when your pleasure began to escalate, he slowed down even more, creating an intense ache and need within you.  By the second time he did this, you were aching for more stimulation so badly that tears were pricking at your eyes, his name falling off your tongue in sobs.

“You’re being so good for me, pretty baby,” Stephen said, kissing away your tears.  “So good.  You can keep taking me, can’t you, pretty baby?  Or do you need me to fuck you hard and fast now?”

“I can…I can keep taking you like this,” you said around a hiccup, and a low moan tore from Stephen’s throat at this.

“What a good girl,” he murmured, once hand reaching up to stroke your cheek gently before returning to the backside of your knee.  “I’m going to take such good care of you.  Promise you’ll feel so good in the end.”

“I already feel so good, Stephen,” you said, and it was true.  As agonizing as it was to be denied release again and again, there was something incredible about being in your body and Stephen’s at once when you both wanted more of each other, when it felt as if your desire for one another could literally never be satiated.

Stephen’s iron will held true as he fucked you relentlessly slowly, refusing you your release again and again and again until you were out of your mind with need and desperation and pleasure.  You were reduced to putty in his hands, crying out for him with tears in your eyes, your own consciousness sometimes in your body and sometimes in his and sometimes nowhere at all.  When you flickered into his body, watching yourself sob and reach and claw for him while getting fucked, you became dimly aware of the irony that you’d thought that you would be the one making a mess of him, and now here he was, reducing you to this.  In the end, though, you (he? You couldn’t tell who was thinking what anymore) were going to absolutely ruin him, send him over the edge in a way that he’d never experienced in his life.  Even now, he was holding on to his connection to his body only through sheer determination to make you his, to make this last as long as it could, and, above all else, to fuck you more thoroughly than you’d ever been fucked in your life.  In fact, the further Stephen slipped into your mutual pleasure, the more you found him clinging to his absolutely, wildly desperate desire to please you and make you pleased with him in turn.

It wasn’t unlike when he’d sought out your approval in the library.  Everything came down to you, in the end.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when he called out to you, his voice thready and his lips puffy from all the kisses the two of you had shared.

“Pretty baby,” he moaned.  “I need you.”

You understood his meaning immediately.

“I need you, too, Stephen,” you keened.  “Take me.”

Take me how I know you want to.

Stephen’s hips stuttered against yours for a moment, and for one last instant, you were in his body, watching your drooling cunt be split apart by his red, needy cock.  Then, his hips moved fast and sharp, snapping against you with a loud slap, and you were sent back into your own mind.

He leaned more of his weight onto your aching, doubled-over legs as he rutted into you hard, his heavy balls slapping against your ass over and over again.  You clutched at the bedsheets, at his forearms, at anything you could hold to as the wet sound of your skin slapping together filled the air and his cock reached deep into that place of you that had you seeing stars.

Then, to your surprise, his magic was there, too, deep in your cunt and on your clit, hitting you achingly sweetly.  Within moments, you were breaking apart at the seams for him, pleasure gushing through you and through him, the coil in your belly snapping and wave after wave of sheer hot ecstasy rolling through you.  You went limp; your vision went white, and there was no sound, only silence.  There wasn’t even a you; there was just the connection between the two of you and pure electric bliss racing through it, reverberating back and forth.  Just when you thought you might come back to your body, Stephen’s orgasm rolled through the magical connection between the two of you, sharp, deep, heavy bursts of pleasure exploding as he shot his load deep within you.  You were him, feeling his balls tighten and empty themselves, his cock spasming as your pussy throbbed around him, milking his orgasm out, and you were you, feeling the way you clenched around his thickness, the way another burst of pleasure began anew as you came on his cock again, your orgasms an echo chamber for one another.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over you and Stephen like this; each time you thought you were coming down from your last high, the bliss that reverberated into his brain started him up again, and then, in turn, you were soon coming again, and vice versa.  You were vaguely aware that he was coming without pumping any seed out; he’d completely emptied himself within you, and yet, you were still throbbing around Stephen’s cock again and again, begging for more.

 When you began to come down from your shared bliss, the waves becoming less overwhelming, you were surprised to find yourself babbling and sobbing and screaming for Stephen, and in turn, he was grunting filth into your ear, moaning and calling for you, his voice low and desperate.

Finally, his arms gave out above you, and he slumped against you entirely, letting your aching legs fall down as he wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in the crook of your neck.  You held to him tightly, feeling the weight of his body on yours. It was blissfully soothing and reassuring.  You were warm and safe, folded up in the arms of your man, the only man you could ever trust to experience such a powerful, deep connection with.  You were exhausted magically and physically, your eyes fluttering shut despite the slick and sweat and cum staining the sheets all around you and Stephen’s softening cock still within you.  Through your still-open connection, you could feel a similar level of post-orgasmic exhaustion in Stephen.

“I love you,” he murmured, moving his hands clumsily and magicking all the filth the two of you had created away.  “I love you so much.”

In the wake of the bliss and emotion you had both shared, you didn’t need to hear anything else.  You moved your hands, too, magicking the blankets up around the two of you.

“I love you too, Stephen.”

As you began drifting off to sleep, though, you heard him murmur something quietly.

“There was one other reason.  An eighth reason.”

Through the haze of your exhaustion, you remembered that he hadn’t wanted to tell you that reason earlier.  Now feeling too exhausted to speak, you let your curiosity seep through your magical connection.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Stark’s face when he sees how gorgeous you are at that gala and realizes you’re with me.”  Stephen’s voice, husky and almost asleep, was nevertheless full of pride and satisfaction.

I’m yours, Stephen, you promised him with your thoughts.  All yours.

Mine, he thought back, and to your surprise, he added, and I’m all yours.  Have been for a long time.

You smiled to yourself and fell into a comforted sleep, feeling certain that here, in the Sanctum Sanctorum, in your home with Stephen, in his strong arms, was precisely where you’d always belong. [A quick ending author's note: I couldn't keep Stephen's reasons straight in my mind while writing this, so I had to write them out for myself. In case you want to see them all and get some feel-good fuzzies, here they all are, from Stephen's perspective!

Reasons why I want to take you to the gala:

1. I like having you around, and when I’m away from you, I miss you. I’d miss you the whole night long if I were at that gala with anyone else. Yes, even Wong. 2. When I hold you in my arms, I feel calm, like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. And I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of calm at any party that Stark is putting on. 3. You’re literally one of the only people I find funny. Trying to banter with anyone else is like talking to a wet rag. Please don’t make me suffer through a night of having to pretend that everyone else’s terrible jokes are funny. I don’t think even Stark has enough alcohol to help me survive that. 4. I want to make you laugh and get you drinks and hold you in my arms and dance with you. You and no one else. 5. I know I’m not supposed to talk about the fact that you’re beautiful, but you are beautiful, inside and out. You make the whole world light up wherever you go. You shine, and I want everyone else to see that. 6. I know I could never offer you a normal life. Our lives are constantly in danger because of who we are, and I’m forever bound to my duties as Sorcerer Supreme. But if I can give you even one night of just being a regular couple and getting to dress up and forget all about the Mystic Arts, then I want to do that. 7. And related to that, I could never do any of this without you. You’ve been there with me since my first days at Kamar-Taj, and now that I’m Sorcerer Supreme, I have no idea how I would survive holding this title without you around. Why would I want to go to the gala without the person who made—and makes—all of this possible? 8. Lastly—and I’m so sorry, but I have to mention this—I’m absolutely dying to see the look on Stark’s face when he sees how gorgeous you are and realizes you’re with me tonight. If you're interested in seeing more of this reader x Stephen pair (maybe at the gala?) please feel free to let me know!! Either way, thank you for reading! <3]