#benedict cumberbatch x reader smut

[ironstrange1991]

The Healing Touch

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Reader has a terrible headache and Stephen goes full doctor mode to take care of her

Word Count: 4,1k

A/N: This fic is total self indulgent. The entire medical part is based on my experience with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. I had to take something positive from the whole situation. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading ;)

You had never had such a bad headache in your entire life. It was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and prevent you from working. It had all started with an allergy attack due to the renovation work in the office building where you worked. Even taking the anti-allergy medication you were used to taking, things only got worse and soon your airways were completely blocked and you had an incessant cough that made you want to vomit your guts out.

But things got worse when you woke up on Friday with a headache that simply wouldn't go away no matter how many painkillers you took. The persistent pain got worse over the days, reaching its peak on Monday morning. When you woke up, you simply couldn't open your eyes, and when you tried to get up, your head hurt with a piercing throb that made you sit down again and fall into silent tears. 

It was a nightmare. Stephen was on mission and you hadn't been able to talk to him in the last few days. You were practically married to a doctor, but you couldn't count on him to help you when you needed it most and that only made you cry even more, giving in to despair.

After a few minutes you forced yourself to get up and staggered to the bathroom where you forced yourself into the shower, hoping that the cold water would somehow help you, but there was no improvement. As you were changing your clothes, feeling dizzy from the strength of the pain and the throbbing in your forehead, you decided that you would take a taxi and go straight to the hospital. By that point, your anxious mind was already telling you that you had a brain tumor.

You were slowly walking down the stairs, each step you took making your head ache even more, when you heard the familiar hiss of a portal opening in the entrance hall. You didn't feel excited, already imagining it was Wong and the light coming from the windows and the door barely allowed you to open your eyes to see anything, but then you heard a baritone voice informing you that it was Stephen who had arrived.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" His voice was a big relief, although it sounded extremely worried and as if by magic - which it was - he was by your side, helping you to put your arm around his neck and picking you up. He quickly went downstairs and took you to the nearest sofa in the main hall and knelt in front of you. Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew nervously across the room, stopping behind the sofa and watching you.

Stephen's presence, although a relief, made you succumb to tears again.

"Hey, Y/n, look at me, tell me what's going on, you look pale. What are you feeling?" He asked, going into full doctor mode and forcing your eyes open so he could examine them.

"My head is exploding." You finally managed to speak. "It's been hurting since Friday, but today it's unbearable, Stephen. I can't handle the pain."

Stephen conjured a small flashlight to examine your pupils and then hummed to himself looking relieved. "The pupils are normal. That's good. Can you follow my finger, please?" He asked, raising his index finger to the level of your eyes and directing it to the left and then to the right slowly. You followed the movement with your eyes to which he praised.

"Very good. Now tell me how many fingers you see." He asked, showing you three fingers.

"Three."

"Very good. And now?" He showed you one finger.

"One."

"Good. One more time. How many fingers?" He asked, closing his fist.

"None."

He nodded, sighing in relief. But the small wrinkle that always appeared between his eyebrows was still there.

"How is your vision? Can you see perfectly or is it blurry? Any black spots or spots of light?"

You shook your head. "I can see, but I can't keep my eyes open because the light makes it hurt even more." You whimpered. "The pain is too bad, Stephen. I don't know what to do."

Stephen shushed you, putting the small flashlight aside and bringing his two thumbs to your forehead, positioning them just above your eyebrows and pressing them there in circular motions.

"Fuck." You hissed.

"I hit the spot, didn't I? Here is where it hurts the most?"

You nodded. "And inside of my eyes and on my cheeks. It feels like my whole face hurts. Even my teeth."

He hummed positively but remained silent, moving his fingers from your forehead to your cheekbones and down to the joint of your jaw, putting some pressure there.

"It hurts so much, Stephen. What if I have a brain tumor? Or... or an aneurysm? What if I have an aneurysm?" Your voice was getting shakier and shakier, and heavy tears fell from your eyes. "I don't want to die, Stephen. I don't want to." You said, clinging to him and hiding your face in his neck as you gave in to crying again.

Stephen wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands stroking your hair as he shushed you. "You're not going to die, sweetheart, and you don't have an aneurysm or a brain tumor." He said, trying to reassure you.

"But it hurts too much." You whimpered.

"I know. I'll make it stop. I promise. I'm here now. But you need to let me go so I can go to the drug store to get your medication."

But the idea seemed absurd to you and instead of letting him go, you tightened your arms around him even more, which made him grunt softly and pull your hands away gently.

"What you have is called sinusitis. It's a serious inflammation of the airways that causes secretions to build up in this region here." He explained, pulling you away enough so he could illustrate what he was saying. He ran his index finger along your cheekbones and above your nose. "Because of the inflammation, you feel pain here." He continued moving his finger down to your jaw. "That's why your teeth hurt too." You nodded.

"But why does my head have to hurt so much? I don't understand." You asked, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

"Because the inflammation causes the facial muscles to tense up, which causes all the pain." He explained, standing up, but you held his hand tightly.

"Don't leave me alone. Please."

Stephen sighed. "I really need to go, love. The sooner you get your medication, the faster you'll get rid of the pain. Isn't that what you want?" He asked and you nodded, but kept holding his hand anyway.

"I had an idea. What if Clocky stays with you while I go, huh? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Before you could even answer, you felt the sentient relic moving excitedly behind you.

"It really loves you, you know?" Stephen insisted and you finally let go of his hand and watched him gesticulate with his head for the relic to come closer. Cloaky quickly flew over the couch and wrapped you in a comfortable hug. One of the things you loved about it - besides the fact that it was a magical piece of clothing that had thoughts and feelings just like Aladdin's carpet and you thought that was amazing - was that it smells like Stephen.

The warmth and soft touch comforted you somehow and you leaned against the back of the couch and curled your legs up trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"That's great, sweetie. I'll be back in a minute. I promise." He said and with a quick gesture of his fingers his robes were exchanged for jeans and a shirt and he walked quickly towards the door.

...

Stephen hated waiting in line. He had always been impatient, but ever since he learned the mystic arts he simply couldn't accept that there were things he couldn't solve with magic. Sure, he could open a portal and get the medication he needed, but that would be stealing and he considered himself an honest enough guy to do that. So there he was waiting in line at the checkout with a basket in his hand, waiting for the woman to pass the purchases of the person in front of him with an almost deliberate slowness while everyone in the drug store continued to stare at him in the strange way that everyone else stared at him when they recognized him.

When it was finally his turn, the woman named Katia looked at him with a sour face and said in a tedious manner, "Prescription, please."

Stephen sighed, "I don't have a prescription. I'm a doctor. The medication is for me." He lied shamelessly.

The woman cast a suspicious look at the basket and then at him. "I'll need to see your license."

Stephen sighed, letting his irritation show. "Come on, you know who I am. Everyone knows I'm a doctor."

"I'll need your license, sir."

Stephen sighed, taking out his wallet and opening it with difficulty because his hands were shaking more then usual. He took the document and showed it to her, then put it back.

"That's 145 dollars." She said, finally putting the boxes inside a plastic bag and handing it to him.

"Keep the change for the wonderful service." He said ironically, handing her the money and finally leaving the drug store and returning to the usual movement of Manhattan.

When Stephen finally returned home, it seemed like it had taken hours, but it had only been 25 minutes. He found you still in the same position, cuddled with Cloaky and with your eyes closed. He quickly moved his fingers, closing all the curtains in the room and approaching.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I tried to go as fast as I could..." He said and Cloaky gently pulled away from your hold and flew up the stairs.

He sat down next to you and conjured a glass of water and handed it in your hands while he opened the medication boxes and took out the pills and put in your hand.

"This is an anti-inflammatory, this one is an antibiotic and together they will cure the inflammation and relieve the tension."

You nodded, putting the two pills in your mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that you didn't question him, just trusted him completely. He knew that a big part of that trust was because you loved him, but an important part was because you trusted him as a doctor and Stephen missed that. He missed being a doctor, having people's trust in that way and feeling good about being able to save a life or help someone in that way.

"This one is for the pain. It's a strong painkiller and should take effect within a few minutes. It will make you drowsy, though."

You took the pill and threw it in your mouth, swallowing it quickly while you poured the glass of water. Stephen smiled tenderly, taking the glass and placing it on the coffee table. Then he took a small bottle from the bag and opened it, showing you how to use it. "This one you spray twice in each nostril, and it will help decongest your nose and make you breathe better."

But instead of taking the bottle from his hand, you just got closer to him and put your head forward, waiting for him to apply the medicine to you. Stephen let out a small chuckle, feeling his chest get warm. You were so cute. Even in that situation that wasn't the least bit funny, you managed to be extremely adorable.

"There you go." He said, finishing the application of the medicine and putting them all back in the bag and placing the bag on the table. "Now come here." He asked, stretching out his arms so you could snuggle into his chest. “I think you need cuddles.”

He hugged you, gently resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'm sorry I wasn’t here for you, sweetheart. I hate these missions sometimes, especially when we can't communicate." He confessed. Deep down he was feeling extremely guilty about the situation, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. If he had been there, he would have diagnosed the problem sooner and spared you so much pain. After all, what was the point of dating a doctor if you couldn't count on him when you needed him most?

"You're here now. That's all that matters." You answered, lifting your head to look at him and it broke his heart to see your eyes red with tears like that. He cupped your cheek gently. "Can I kiss you? I heard that getting a kiss from me is the best medicine for sinusitis." He joked, managing to get a small smile from your lips.

 "Kiss me all you want then." You said with a tired smile and he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips and then giving small kisses on your cheeks, on the tip of your nose, finishing on your forehead.

You hummed softly. "I love you, Steph." You said, laying your head back on his chest.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you can imagine." He confessed and you hummed again, but remained silent and he respected your silence. He knew that the pain you were feeling wasn’t small. Sinus headaches could be extremely painful, and you had endured it for as long as you could without asking for help. He only wished you had gone to the hospital sooner. He hated seeing you in pain.

...

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up to the sound of soft voices talking. Stephen hadn't moved a muscle apparently, possibly to avoid waking you up, but now he was talking to someone.

"I'm glad she's okay now. Give her my best wishes when she wakes up." You heard Wong's voice and kept your eyes closed. The excruciating pain had passed, but your head was still sore and there was still a slight throb above your eyebrows.

"Are you going back to Kamar Taj yet?" You heard Stephen ask.

"Yes. Lots to do as usual. I'll let you rest for the night, Stephen. We'll talk tomorrow morning. Send me an update on Y/n when she wakes up." And as soon as he finished speaking, you heard the squeak of the portal opening and closing and then silence followed only by the sporadic sound of cars passing by on the street.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find the Sanctum plunged into darkness. A single lamp was on, emanating a dim light from the kitchen. You had no idea how many hours you had slept, but you were completely dizzy, probably due to the effect of the medicine. You yawned and rubbed your eyes slowly, noticing that the pain behind them had also diminished considerably. Stephen moved slowly and then stroked your hair.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse and heavy with sleep, which made you wonder if he had fallen asleep too.

"What time is it?" You asked softly.

"Almost nine." He answered. "You've slept for almost ten hours."

You rubbed your eyes again and then looked at him in surprise. "You've been here this whole time?"

"I left you in Cloaky's care so I could shower and eat, but I basically spent the day on this couch. I ended up falling asleep too, which is a rarity. I woke up to Wong calling me and asking for a book."

You smiled to yourself. "I'm glad you got some rest too."

He hummed positively. "How are you feeling? Better, I hope."

You nodded, slowly lifting your head to look at him now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"My head is sore, hurts a little, but the excruciating pain is gone."

Stephen smiled, cupping your cheek and stroking it slowly with his thumb. "That's great. But I'm afraid you'll need to take another painkiller now to give the anti-inflammatory time to kick in before the pain starts to come back." He explained.

"But if I take another one of those I'll sleep for another ten hours." You complained, to which he shook his head.

"I think a Tylenol will do for now. I'll get it for you." He said, threatening to get up, but you held him in place and cupped his face.

"Stay. Just a minute more."

He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be back in a moment."

You let him go reluctantly, but took the opportunity to sit up. Your body was limp and you felt like you were slightly drunk, so you avoided getting up. Suddenly you saw your bag on the coffee table and remembered that you hadn't even texted your boss, but before you could think to do so, Stephen was back answering the question you hadn't even voiced.

"I called the office and told them you were sick. You're staying home tomorrow too, by the way. Doctor's orders."

You nodded, watching him approach. He was wearing gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair, always impeccable, was messy and a few strands fell over his forehead. He looked handsome as always, but you couldn't help but notice a nasty cut on his cheek that you hadn't noticed before.

"You're hurt." You said as he sat down next to you, handing you a Tylenol pill and picking up the empty glass on the table and handing it to you. With a simple gesture of his hand, the glass filled with water.

"It's nothing. Drink it."

You obeyed, and the whole time he looked at you with tenderness in his eyes, but the crease between his eyebrows was still there.

"I'm fine, Stephen. Really."

He nodded, taking the glass from your hand and placing it back on the table.

"Seeing you in pain was a horrible experience, Y/n. It made me think that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and I'm not just talking about illnesses. The work I do, the things I deal with are extremely evil. It makes me think about the risk you run by living with me."

You smiled, trying to ignore what he was saying, but deep down you knew he was right. Living in the Sanctum with the Master of the Mystic Arts was a risk, but one you were willing to take because you loved him. "Let's not think about that." You simply said. "I'm fine and you came back from your mission safe and sound. That's all that matters."

He nodded, taking your hand in his and promptly changed the subject. "You need to eat something before taking the next dose of medication."

"Pizza." You asked immediately, which made him giggle.

"I was thinking about a salad..."

"I thought I was going to die today from a brain tumor. Fuck the salad, I want pepperoni pizza with lots of cheese and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Stephen smiled broadly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Whatever you say. I'll order and while we wait, I'll help you take a shower. What do you think?"

You nodded. "I don't think I can stand up on my own to do it anyway. Whatever you gave me made me totally dizzy."

"I told you it was strong, didn't I? But the important thing is that it took the pain away."

You nodded. "Thanks for taking care of me, Steph."

"That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? You've taken care of me so many times, sweetheart. I lost count of how many times you patched me up after I came back from a mission. That’s what people who love each other do."

You smiled "I really do love you."

...

Stephen had never seen you eat pizza so eagerly and then devour two bowls of ice cream. It was cute. Even your childish palate was something he found adorable about you. He ate four slices of pizza himself and found himself having seconds of dessert, which he rarely did. After a day like the one you had, he was sure you both deserved the comfort of the food.

Finally, you got ready for bed and ended up in bed with the lamp on, giving the room a low, comfortable light.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked to confirm, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that the medication was taking effect.

"Better. I barely feel any pain, but my head is still sore."

He caressed your face, watching you settle into the pillows next to him. "It's normal after such intense pain. You'll be better tomorrow."

You smiled, biting your lower lip and making that little face you always did when you wanted something, but you didn't say anything, you just brought your hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in it and scratching gently. Stephen closed his eyes, indulging in the touch and only then noticing how tired he was. The mission had been energetic, it had been a really hard few days that had taken a lot out of him physically and although he had managed to sleep for an hour or two, he could feel the exhaustion taking over him.

"Hm, it feels so good." He found himself confessing as he melted into your touch. "I missed you, sweetheart. Every day all I could think about was that I wanted to go home." He opened his eyes to see you smiling sweetly at him and slowly you snuggled closer to him as he automatically reached out to hold you impossibly close.

You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips, kissing him slowly, but with a growing desire. "I missed you too. I had plans for when you got back. I wanted to surprise you with a special dinner, but it wasn't possible." You said and he smiled reassuringly.

"Well, even though the day wasn't the most pleasant, it's safe to say we had a special dinner tonight. The pizza was very good." He said smirking.

"But there was something else I wanted to give you when you got back." You said, hooking your leg around his hip teasingly and Stephen soon understood what you were up to, but even though he wanted it as much as you did, he was forced to reason.

"Unfortunately, it's not a good idea, sweetheart, even though I really want it."

You frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why not? After the day I've had, don't I deserve a little affection?"

Stephen nodded with a smile. Of course you did. You deserved everything you wanted and he believed he deserved it too after the mission he had just returned from, but it wasn't always possible to get what you deserved. "Trust me, you do, but I don't want to risk making your headache worse."

You stared at him, not understanding what one thing had to do with the other, and he chuckled, trying to explain in a way that made sense.

"Remember what we talked about the tension in your facial muscles making your head hurt?"

You nodded.

"When we make love and you have a good time, which is always, I hope, the pleasure makes you tense the muscles of your entire body, even those on your face and especially during orgasm, which could lead to an orgasmic headache."

You rolled your lips, trying not to laugh. "Did you just make that up?"

Stephen let out a soft laugh. "Of course not. I'm serious. It's a real problem that you don’t have, but given the sinusitis, orgasm could be a trigger for a worsening of your condition."

You buried your face in his neck, laughing softly, and the sound was very welcome after he had seen you crying in pain earlier. "Believe me, I would never make that up, especially since I'm climbing the walls after so many days without sex."

"It hasn't been that many days." You contradicted him. "But I believe you, as stupid as it may seem. I just hate this fucking sinus thing even more now." You groaned.

"Your treatment will last five days, but after that we will have plenty of time to make up for it, trust me."

You sighed, lifting your head to look at him. "You'll have to make it up to me tonight with lots of kisses."

Stephen smiled. "As many as you want, sweetheart." He said, pulling you back to his lips.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[jakegyllenbaalz]

tom hardy and benedict cumberbatch in stuart, a life backwards (2007)

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Realization

Summary: After hooking up with Stephen on the night of the full moon Kamar Taj party over a month ago, you begin to experience pregnancy symptoms. And you realise you could potentially be pregnant with Stephen's child.

Word count: 2.5k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of smut (18+ warning, minors DNI)

A/N: This is another little idea I thought of, I hope you like it. I will be doing a Surgeon Strange smut fic next.

You hadn’t planned it or anything. It just sort of happened. One minute you were enjoying the full moon party at Kamar Taj, and the next, you were wrapped up in Stephen Strange’s arms as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. It had all happened so fast. You knew it was wrong and bad—he was your teacher, your mentor—and you both should have known better, but you had been flirting with him since you pretty much locked eyes with him that night. He just looked so good and he hadn’t been able to take his own gaze off of you.

So, after a night of teasing smiles and lingering touches, the two of you found a corner where no one would find you, and he kissed you long and deep, his groans muffled from your soft lips. Then he got all handsy, his fingers grasping at your hips and waist before he brought you back to the sanctum where he took you and made you his.

He had been rough and fast with you, like he had been eagerly waiting for the moment when he finally got to have you. On his bed he had bent you over, taking you from behind as he slammed his cock into you, as you cried out his name, as you begged and pleaded with him to make you cum, and he did. He had your eyes rolling into the back of your head that night. You had no idea that he could make you feel like that, that he possessed that kind of skill. His experienced fingers and tongue and mouth had made you see absolute stars. He had been so big and thick and long, stretching you out and filling you up so, so good. There had been a smirk on his face the whole night, like he was absolutely loving every second of seeing you in pleasure. He had been the reason you went back to Kamar Taj that night just aching to have him take you again.

But when it was all over and done with, you and Stephen promised to never, ever talk about that night again. It was a filthy hook-up. It was a night of dirty actions and words and secrets with the both of you engaging in something that never, ever should have happened. That didn’t stop you from loving every second of it though.

But that was just over a month ago, and while you had been more than ready to keep that secret close to you, there was something that had been on your mind recently. Your period was late and there had been a handful of mornings where you woke up ready to throw up. You kept trying to tell yourself that it was nothing: that you were just a little sick and that the stress was the reason your period was late, but deep down, there was a feeling that wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t deny it: you were worried you could be pregnant with Stephen’s baby. And he was the only man you had been with, so it had to be his.

That same nausea you had been feeling for the last few days hit you as soon as you got out of bed. You had your training class today but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran to the bathroom to throw up. There was no way you could go to your class while you were on the verge of vomiting every three seconds, so you crawled back into bed with a groan.

The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you. There was a good chance you were pregnant and you needed to know for sure, so after you felt well enough, you opened up a portal that took you right to a pharmacy to buy a test. You bought it and came back to your room, letting in and out some uneven breaths before you opened up the box. You followed the instructions and took the test before you flipped the little piece of plastic over, not quite ready to see the result. Instead, your eyes focused on your reflection as you wondered if your future was about to change forever. How could it be that everything had changed so quickly? You were supposed to be training and learning, not wondering if you were pregnant with a baby.

The word repeated over and over in your head. A baby. An actual baby. Stephen’s baby. You had been so careless that night with him, just seeking your own pleasure. But now that night felt like it was haunting you. What would Stephen think?

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about that. Your stomach was already filled with too many butterflies, and just wondering about what Stephen’s reaction would be would make it worse. There were days when he could be so cruel, so mean.

It took you about five minutes, but you finally let out a long breath and flipped the test over. You literally froze on the spot when you saw a positive sign looking back at you. The one you got gave you an estimate of when the baby had been conceived, and there it was: 6 weeks. That meant Stephen was most definitely the father, that the baby had been conceived that night.

The test fell right out of your hands as tears filled your eyes. What would Stephen’s reaction be? Angry, upset, elated, horrified? Either way, you would have to tell him, and you were terrified about how that could go. Then there was the fact that you were still very much training at Kamar Taj. You couldn’t just take time off. Would you even have time to look after a baby? Would Stephen? Would he want the baby at all?

You didn’t know what to do.

******

The day went by fast and now nighttime was upon you. You had been upset all day after taking the test and your brain wouldn’t stop reminding you that you had to tell Stephen the truth. You knew, but you were so scared of what his reaction would be. You just didn’t feel ready to tell him. Part of you was a little scared. There were times when he was quick to anger.

There was a knocking at your door and you sighed and let out a soft, “come in.”

It was Wong pushing open the door, a concerned look on his face. “Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been missing some training sessions lately. I’m worried… Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You sniffled. There were tears in your eyes that you hadn’t been able to hide. “Can you please just get Stephen for me? I need to talk to him.”

Wong nodded. “Of course. I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching Wong leave.

A few minutes later, Stephen was at your door with raised eyebrows. “Wong told me you wanted me to come and talk to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you let out a trembling breath. “Yes. You can come in. Please shut the door behind you.”

He followed your instructions and sat down next to you on the bed. “Why are you crying?”

Instant regret hit you. Why had you asked Wong to get Stephen? You still didn’t feel ready. You thought maybe ripping the band-aid off would have worked out in your favour, but there were so many butterflies in your stomach as you avoided his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, your eyes all wet.

Stephen sighed. “Then why did you make sure Wong came and got me? You must have done that for a reason.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point? It’s not like you care, anyway.”

“Wow,” Stephen said quietly.

The room went horrifyingly quiet. So quiet it almost made you wince. You weren’t talking, Stephen wasn’t talking. The two of you sat there in pure silence and all you could do was wipe at your wet eyes.

“You know, I know I can be an asshole sometimes,” he muttered, “but at least I’m not completely heartless, Y/N. Will you just tell me why you’re so upset? There must have been a reason you called me in here, and there’s clearly something big on your mind if you’re crying. If you just told me…”

Finally, you met his eyes, and you were taken aback by the frown on his face. He looked worried. “I know you agreed that we weren’t supposed to talk about that night at the party… The night where we… You know…”

“Yeah…” Stephen murmured.

You couldn’t say it. You just grabbed the pregnancy test that you had kept tucked under the blankets and handed it to Stephen. You kept your eyes on him, taking in the pure shock on his face. He stayed quiet for a good minute or two before finally, in a shaky voice he said, “You… You’re pregnant.” He looked over at you. “With my baby?”

You nodded and you felt more tears forming. You could hear Stephen mutter out a low and deep “fuck” next to you.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered. “This is all my—”

“You aren’t to blame for this, Y/N.”

A sharp gasp fell from your lips when you felt Stephen’s soft, warm hands on the sides of your face. He was forcing you to look at him, his eyes all soft and warm, and you couldn’t believe how gentle he had suddenly become. You also couldn’t quite believe that he had tears in his eyes. Could he be happy?

Stephen smiled at you. “Well, you being pregnant is partly my fault too.”

A smile stretched across your face before you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Stephen used his thumbs to wipe at them, his touch soft and slow.

“Breathe for me,” he said. “Just take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

You followed his instructions, your eyes closing as your breath slowed down to a more calm, gentle rhythm. That was helping. Sort of. But the nerves were still so ever-present and you just wanted to go back in time and fix everything.

“So, what do you want to do about this?” he asked. “I just want you to know that I will fully support your choice. Whatever choice that is.”

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a mother one day, but this is all so sudden. It’s scary and I still have to finish my training.”

“If you truly want to have this baby, then I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you and I’ll do everything I can to be the best father I can be. Being a dad wasn’t something I had ever really thought about, but I’m not afraid to try.”

You smiled at him. “Ain���t you too busy to have time to look after a baby?”

“Yes, but we’ll make it work.”

You couldn’t help it when you threw your arms around him, totally without warning. You squeezed at him as relief washed over you, a soft sigh leaving your lips. That had gone a lot better than you had expected. You could hear Stephen grunting a little as you held him.

“I know you’ll be the best dad,” you whispered. “I just know it.”

Stephen gave you a shocked sounding laugh before he finally circled his own arms around you, his hands pressed up against you tightly. “I’m glad you think so.”

Pulling away from him, you kept your hands on his shoulders. “I know so.”

Placing his hand on your thigh, Stephen gave you a comforting smile. One that made you truly feel like everything was going to be okay, that the future would be alright, and suddenly a whole less daunting. He rubbed at your thigh, the room comfortably quiet as your eyes stayed locked. A smile grew on your face simply from how sweet he was being. You loved seeing his kind, gentle side. It made your heart flutter. But then it hit you. Everyone would know you were pregnant. Very soon, you wouldn’t be able to hide it at all.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” you said. “What are we gonna do? What happens when everyone finds out? I don’t want you to get into trouble. That’s the last thing I want. Everyone’s gonna be in our business. I don’t want that either.”

He hummed, his hand still on your thigh. “I have some hoodies you can borrow as the baby grows. That should hide the bump. And if and when someone does finally find out… Well, I’ll just deal with that. I promise. Don’t stress about that. Let me handle all of that.”

“Thank you.” Leaning forward, you gave his cheek a kiss. You could have sworn his pale cheeks went a little red at the sudden act of intimacy. But he had just been so sweet, so sensitive, so caring that you couldn’t even stop yourself. You were pretty sure that you had never even seen him blush before. It felt like a bit of an accomplishment to be the first person to ever do it and the fact had your own face feeling all hot. But Stephen just looked so cute suddenly getting all nervous, and you smiled at the way his hand rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Well, I better let you get some rest then, right?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thank you. For everything. For being so supportive and caring and kind. I really needed it.”

He smiled at you and got off the bed, making a slow walk towards your door. “You know, I’m not always an asshole. And I do care about people. I have the ability to care and I also have feelings,” he said, letting out a low chuckle.

Smiling at him, you nodded. “Noted.”

Stephen winked at you before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a long breath of air that you had been holding in for what felt like the entire conversation with Stephen. No, the entire day that gloomy feeling had been hanging over you, but that felt like it was slowly fading away by the second. You felt light, you felt happy, you felt like the future would be something good and bright instead of that darkness you had felt wash over you when you first looked at your pregnancy test in the morning.

You laid down in bed, resting your head against the pillows and letting out a long yawn. You definitely needed some rest, but there was some excitement flowing through you still. You’d be a mother and Stephen would be a father, and he’d be there for you every single step of the way, and there were definitely going to be a lot of them. And deep down, you knew Stephen would be a good dad. The best dad. The kind that would make you so proud and so happy.

You couldn’t wait.

[geeky-politics-46]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight. 

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room. 

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up. 

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts. 

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong." 

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -" 

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see. 

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?" 

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself. 

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..." 

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion. 

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?" 

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath." 

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses. 

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck. 

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo. 

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun. 

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too." 

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face. 

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. " 

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together." 

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers. 

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera. 

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides. 

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink. 

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours. 

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine." 

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights. 

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby." 

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind. 

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move. 

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting. 

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess." 

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements. 

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb. 

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter. 

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind. 

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

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

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[alexendria-rose]

I have a request

Can we see a submissive Stephen Strange story?

Like what you see?~

Stephen Strange X Reader

Warnings: PURE SMUT!! UNHOLY anyways; p in v, choking, sub Stephen with a hint of dom him, cock sucking, cussing.

Summary: Stephen comes back whining about work, and Y/n has the perfect idea to forget why he was whining in the first place-well whining about that certain situation...

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Did I ever mention how much I loath Thanos?” Stephen huffs walking into their shared room at the Sanctum. Y/n looks up from her book to look at Stephen eyebrows knit together.

“My love, I think everyone hates him.” She laughs softly placing the book down on the side table before criss crossing her legs on the bed.

“Yeah but I really hate him, wong as sorcerer supreme! That was my spot.” He says plopping himself on his lovely girlfriend’s lap. Y/n rolls her eyes playing with his hair making sure not to mess it up so much.

“So you’re mad at Thanos because of that?” She just giggled leaning back against the bed. He looks up at her with puppy dog eyes.

“Yes.” He states his eyes fluttering close as she massages his head. Y/n laughed softly.

“Oh poor baby, I’m so sorry the blip affected you getting sorcerer supreme.” She fake pouted, Stephen sees right through that groaning and rolling his eyes.

“I don’t feel comforted.” He mumbles moving his eyes away from her as he pouts. Oh people would absolutely died laughing if they found out how soft Stephen was in front of her.

"Oh do you want to feel comforted? I have a few ideas in mind." She says softly tracing his lips a small smirk planted on her face. Stephen grins moving his hand to trace her wrist.

"I do like the sound of that." He mumbles his eyes never leaving hers. She bites her lower lip leaning foreword before capturing his lips with hers in a heated passion. He groans from the taste of her lips a slight whimper escaping his mouth. Y/n just smirks against his lips moving her hands to cup his cheeks, moving her body to straddle him instead- his back against the bed. He goes to grip her hips, she pulls back from the kiss grabbing his wrist.

"Nope, I didn't say you can touch me sweetheart." She smirks, his eyes widen at her comment, feeling himself get a hard at her words. She quirks an eyebrow at him, the smirk never leaving her face. "Oh are you excited for me Mr. Strange?" He takes a shattered breath nodding his head slowly.

"I need you, really badly." He was able to choke out. Her hands making its way down to his shirt(luckily he wasn't wearing his normal outfit) she brushes her fingers teasingly against his skin noticing his breath hitching at the contact. She pulls his shirt off, watching his chest rise and fall. She connects her lips on his chest his breath wavering slightly as she moves her lips down near his lower stomach just above his pants. "F-Fuck." He gasped out, she knew he was sensitive right here so she drew it out more by creating love bites on his lower stomach. He wanted to grip her hair so bad, but also wanted to obey her by not touching her, letting her work her magic on him. She slowly unbuttons his jeans before sliding them down his legs. She looked down at the bulge begging to come out of his boxers.

"Awh look at you, its basically begging me." She taunts flicking her tongue. He swallows hard his Adams apple bobbing.

"Please, I need you." He begs his eyes begging and full of want. She moves her hands to his underwear band before pulling them off, his cock flinging out as soon as she does. She could basically already see the pre-cum leaking out. She just smiled moving her head down, her eyes never leaving his.

"I give you permission to touch my head but that's it." She murmurs before using her mouth to take him whole. He brings his hands to her hair gripping on it softly but his body shuddered under her; his hips slightly bucking at the wetness of her mouth.

"F-Fuck." He sputters his mouth going dry from the way he kept his mouth opened. He whimpered lightly at the way she swirled her tongue around his length and the way she hollowed her cheeks in. She began to move her head up and down his length to create more friction. He groaned and moaned loudly at the way she took him with such ease and grace. He felt himself so close to the edge his grip on her hair tugging on it harder, instead she pulls her head back wiping her mouth, he whined at the lost of contact. She just chuckles.

"Mr. Strange be patient. Don't you want to cum in me?" She smirked standing up from the bed removing her shirt and pants revealing her lace bra and underwear knowing this was most likely going to happen. His eyes move up and down her body, his eyes never leaving out a inch of it. "You like what you see?" She taunts crawling on top of him. He just nods watching the way she crawled back on top of him. "Well since you like it so much-" She moves her panties off to the side before sliding herself down onto his cock. He groaned his head rolling back as his hips bucked up which let out a moan out of her lips.

"F-Fuck so perfect." He choked out, his eyes traveling back to her chest, the push up in the bra making her breast look fantastic to view. God lace looked so good on her- he thought. She just grinned adjusting to his length before moving her hips and down. His moans and whimpers becoming louder. "G-God oh my fuck." He grunts out his eyes rolling back at the way she felt so good to him, wet and tight just for him.

"See? Who would want to cum in a mouth, when you've got this tight pussy just for you." She says dissolving herself in the pleasure fluttering her eyes close as soft moans escape her lips.

"S-Shit Y/n." He moves his hands to her hips gripping on them so tightly his hands turn white from the grip. She chuckles not moving his hands knowing herself she enjoyed the touch. She moves her hands down to his throat her hands wrapping around it softly, as she started moving her hips faster.

"Fuck me like I'm the only pussy you want." She moans out as soon as those words left her mouth, his grip on her hips tightens before thrusting himself up in her deeper groaning every time he hit her G-spot. She gasped out at him hitting just the right spot, the sound of slapping skin bouncing off the walls. She feels herself tighten around him-very close to her edge.

"C-Can I cum, please?" He begs his eyes gazing at hers, she bites her lip to stop the whimpers coming out seeing Stephen this sub and soft in front of her made her so weak and her pussy tighten as she thought about it.

"F-Fuck." She whimpers out nodding out a quick yes. He moves his hips faster until he reaches his climax, her following swiftly feeling his warm seed enter her, his body shaking and shuddering underneath her. She rides out his orgasm before removing herself off of him flopping herself next to him, feeling her legs just shake slightly. She hears him chuckle deeply.

"Wow." He murmurs out turning his body to face her propping his elbow up before resting his hand on his palm, his eyes traveling up and down her body. She just smiles brightly.

"Your such a good boy." She smirks winking at him. He growls lowly.

"Keep it up baby girl, and I'll show you who can also be such a little sub." He smirk moving his hand to smack her ass. She gasped at the contact whining softly. "Exactly my point." He lifts her chin with his index finger. "Now I won't say I didn't enjoy that, but you are the only living soul that can know that." She gulps lightly nodding, the dominance slowly fading away. He smirks' lightly.

"Good girl."

[bakerstreethound]

Congrats on 5 years! 🎉

Can I get a Sherlock fluff with Sherlock is awake first, hes looking at the reader with utmost love. But he wakes up the reader with kisses and nuzzles.❤️ I adore the way you write & I cant get enough of soft Sherlock🍓✨

Thank you so much for sending this in. I finally completed the story (I apologize for taking so long) I hope you enjoy it! There is a bit of light smut at the end so 18+ only.

Light in the Darkness

Summary: Waking up in Sherlock's arms is one of the highlights of your day, and he shows you how much he adores you; how grateful he is to have you in his life.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Sherlock groans, wiping the remaining sleepiness from his eyes. Outside, the sun barely makes itself visible, the night holding fast to London, unrelenting in its grasp over the city. Sherlock yawns, reaching out to the other side of the bed, your sleeping form breathing softly lost in the throes of sleep. 

He smiles, his hand brushing softly along your side watching as you lean into his touch. Even your subconscious knows you’re at peace here with him and you snuggle further into him, allowing yourself a moment of extended comfort before reality pulls you into its clutches. 

Lips travel softly along your neck, the soft brush of curls following in their wake as gentle nuzzles replace the kisses, going back and forth simultaneously. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips and your eyes flutter open, met with the face of your husband looking at you with simmering eyes, half lidded, the sleep not fully leaving him, yet.

“Good morning to you, too Sherlock.” 

He melts against you, your fingers running through his curls, massaging them as he likes it, earning an appreciative groan. You continue at it, relishing in the soft noises he makes, not yet ready to let any of his cases take him from you. He looks content enough, his breathing slow and steady, much the opposite of your own when you wake up startled from nightmares.   

“That feels nice,” he gazes up at you eyes shimmering in adoration, overcome with unspoken emotions he can't fathom. It’s more than nice, something you could’ve conjured in a dream.

His arm laced around your waist pulls you impossibly closer, the feeling of his bare skin against yours a reminder of the night before, allowing you to admire the marks you left behind, mingled with the scars of a time long past you knew wouldn’t disappear from his skin, a permanent reminder of those times alone. But nothing like that will happen again, not with you by his side. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts, and what a sight you are, eyes wide looking at him with more adoration than he could possibly fathom. His hand reaches to you of its own accord, stroking your cheek softly.

You lean into his touch, his warmth kindling a spark inside you, firing into your heart, electricity rampant between you. He doesn’t want to look away, even as the sunlight barely parting through the ever-hanging fog beckons a new day, he doesn’t want it to begin.

He only wants to remain here with you for the moment, though his mind protests, his legs aching to run down the ramparts and alleyways of his beloved town. It will always be there for him. 

London isn’t you. 

And you are more than the city that soiled his name, his reputation, slandered him for a penny here and there to get the inside scoop. 

You are his, his to cherish and damn it you are one of the only ones he truly finds some semblance of the concept of love, the feeling of you next to him makes his head spin, fathoming the possibilities of how you both ended up this way together.

It is a bond of unbreakable trust between you, beautiful and understood looming and intertwined with truth. 

His forehead rests against your and you lean up into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, your hands carding through his beautiful mass of curls, twirling a rogue strand around an index finger. 

“You’re wonderful, Sherlock. What would I do without you?” Or, rather, what could you do to help his racing mind. His eyes dart back and forth, deeming to bury his face in your neck inhaling your scent.

What was he supposed to tell you?

This feeling inside him blooming further over the past year makes him nervous, even trying to voice how he feels won’t do it justice for what he can’t fully express. 

When his lips brush yours, his arms caging you to him, encompassing you in his safety and warmth, it’s all you can comprehend consume and breathe. It’s him all-encompassing and nothing more. Nothing feels more right than this moment. 

“Sherlock,” your voice falls from his lips in a perfect incandescent harmony, one he wants to breathe, to sing to create with you and you alone. 

Fiery desperation fuels the strength of his kiss drowning you further into the heat of his flames, the coolness of your water evaporating his lips in a breath of fresh air.

You don’t want it to end, despite the time, the hour, the plans for the day, all is obsolete and his hands brush under the seam of your shirt, slently asking for permission. No other words are needed, you welcome him without question, shivering as your form is revealed to him, inch by inch, each intake of breath anticipating his next move.

Lips grazing your neck, hands falling to your hips, stroking circles just so. Your hands dig into his back, clinging to him like a lifeline, not daring to let go.

His body pressing against yours, groaning at the friction makes you shiver in anticipation. The full feeling of his skin against your laid bare to him is nothing more than comforting. 

It’s home, it’s where you belong.

Only he got to see you in such a manner and you for him.  Such is the manner of things and how they’ll always be. You want no one else but him. His feelings are indescribable as his fingers work you slow, your mouths falling open at the sensation, digging into his back harder, begging and pleading his name. 

He loves you like this, would frame it if he could. Another memory another shot of the countless images in his mind palace he keeps. Memories of you always flutter near and you’re where he belongs, his northern star the compass pointing him home.

For London may be his city, but here with you in his arms, falling apart through his love, he is home at last. A beacon of light in the darkness.

******

[strangesthirdeye]

Y/n: *groans in frustration* Fuck me

Sherlock: *lowers his pants*

Y/n: *looks at Sherlock with wide eyes* wow

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 20: Resurrection

Contents | Part 19 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UPON US. I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all. I'm going to sleep now.

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes. Readers must be 18+

You stirred gently from sleep, eyes closed as you drifted between the realms of reality and slumber. Echoes of the countryside seeped in through the open window like a soundscape, tranquil and idyllic; birdsong, wildlife, nature, rain-

Rain? 

Your eyes shot open, the remnants of your sleepy haze immediately falling away as you scrambled out of bed and hurried to the window. You pulled back the thick curtains, looking out over the vast landscape of the stately home, the plush, well kept grass and winding gravel paths, the fields in the distance that stretched along the skyline, as though nothing existed beyond it. 

The blue summer sky was blanketed in clouds, showering the earth in a rain so fine you could only see it in the ripple on the surface of a nearby pond. You gave a dejected sigh, walking around the bed to grab your phone off the nightstand. 

"Shit," you hissed as you noticed the time, the alarm you must have sent to snooze in your sleep.

You rushed out of your room in your t-shirt and pyjama shorts, making your way across the large landing towards the sound of voices and laughter, the smell of food and perfume. You tapped your knuckles on a door decorated with flowers and pushed it open, stepping into the room with an awkward grimace, an apology ready on your tongue. 

The spacious suite was buzzing with excitement, women with their hair in rollers, champagne flutes in their hands. They were all wearing matching silk robes; pale blue, 'bridesmaid' embroidered in white thread across the breast. You spotted Camilla from across the room, the only one in white, sitting with her back to you as a stylist blowdried her hair.

It felt like a bad teen movie; the moment the awkward new girl stepped into the high school cafeteria, looking over at the popular girls' table as she stood alone with her tray. They'd all known each other forever; the maid-of-honour her twin sister, the other four old friends. They were probably wondering why she'd asked you to be a bridesmaid at all, why you got to be part of the day they'd been waiting for since they were kids. 

"Oh, here she is!" One of the women shouted, jumping up from a couch in the middle of the room and rushing over to you. 

Camilla turned her head, smiling when she laid eyes on you and giving an excited wave. "You okay!?" she shouted over the sound of the hairdryer. 

You nodded, mouthing 'sorry' at her from across the room and pointing at your phone. 'Alarm didn't...'

She waved her hand at you, as if telling you not to worry. 

The woman approaching you was called Lottie, her freckled face gleaming with a grin as she handed you a robe. You took it and shrugged it on, looking down at the same 'bridesmaid' label embroidered into the pale blue silk. 

"Come and get some breakfast," she said, pointing to the coffee table between two couches, an elaborate spread laid across it. 

You picked at the food, putting a few pieces of fruit and croissant on a small plate and sitting down with the other women. 

"I'm so sorry I slept in," you said. 

"Oh don't worry about it," said Camilla's sister Alice. "You haven't missed anything. And Georgia's still asleep so you're not actually the latest." 

You laughed, biting into your croissant and relaxing back slightly into the couch. "I can't believe it's raining," you said, gesturing to the window on the other side of the room. "Especially with how warm June's been this year. I hope it stops before the ceremony." 

"Femi was just saying rain on your wedding day is supposed to be good luck," said Lottie.

The woman beside you nodded, her thick, dark hair sitting in a cluster of rollers on top of her head. "It is. They say it's supposed to wash away all the bad memories." 

"Hm." You nodded. "Well I hope it pours down then." 

They all laughed, and you allowed a smile, almost feeling bad for expecting coldness from them. They'd never been anything but kind; every dress fitting and group chat conversation filled with positivity and excitement, even the hen night had been surprisingly fun. Yet still, there was something inside you that made you doubt yourself, like you didn't belong amongst them.

Music played and the morning flowed as freely as the champagne. People rotated between the makeup artist and hair stylist, picking at the food and taking breaks in-between to dance and pose for pictures. You sat in the makeup chair as the woman swirled a brush over your eyelid, pinning your brow up with her thumb after you failed to stop blinking. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder, glancing up to see Camilla at your side.

"I know you don't like champagne so I got them to bring you a mojito," she said, handing you a tall glass, a sprig of mint floating over the ice. 

"Oh, wow, thank you. You didn't have to-" The makeup artist turned your face back towards her.  

Camilla laughed, patting you on the arm before walking away. 

You took a sip as the artist turned to dip her brush in another eyeshadow, quickly putting it down when she returned to you. You peered at yourself in the mirror through one eye, liking what you saw; glowing skin and romantically blushed cheeks, fluffy brows and the beginnings of a soft, dreamy eye. You found yourself thinking about your own wedding, the kind of makeup you'd have, the dress you'd wear, the colours you might choose. You could picture the guests, the bridesmaids, the church. But the groom didn't seem to have a face. No matter how hard you tried to imagine him waiting for you at the altar, you just couldn't make him out.

You were the last one to sit in the hair stylist's chair, nursing your cocktail as she ran a bristly round brush through your hair, spraying you with mists and pinning it up in sections while you watched the other women slip into their dresses. 

At every fitting, Camilla had been very specific about what she wanted your dresses to look like. They were beautiful; layers upon layers of delicate tulle that flowed to the ground like water, sleeves that draped off the shoulders and dozens of intricate flower appliqués. If it weren't for the soft blue colour, they could have been mistaken for wedding gowns. 

You watched as each woman was zipped and buttoned into her dress, the material gliding across the ground as they walked and twirled. And when your hair was finished, you put on your own, holding it tight to your chest as Femi fastened the back. You turned to looked at yourself in the mirror; the makeup, the hair and the most magnificent dress you had no idea how to walk in without tripping over it. You felt beautiful. You looked beautiful. You all did. 

You stood in the room waiting to go, clutching your bouquet in front of you, your thumb fiddling with the twine keeping it all together. Clusters of periwinkles, cornflowers, lavender and lilacs were peppered with baby's-breath and eucalyptus. You brought it to your nose, the sleepy perfume calming you down as you shifted your weight from side to side in your heels. 

The door opened and Camilla stepped into the room, eliciting a collective gasp from the bridal party, even you. Her jet black hair was slicked into a low bun, a veil cascading from it like a waterfall to the ground. Her dress was a pearly white; high neck and long sleeves, the beading catching in the sunlight that shone through the window. The train was long enough to rival royalty, her mother and father carrying it into the room behind her. 

The photographer was snapping pictures, moving around to catch each of the bridesmaids reactions. You glanced around to see them all carefully dabbing away tears, wondering if you were supposed to be crying too. You lifted a finger to your eye as he took your photo, not wanting to seem like the odd one out when they looked back over the album. 

"Right," said Camilla. "Let's go get married." 

It was two bridesmaids to a car; the dresses so big that you had to be packed and folded into the back seats like the stuffing of a pillow. You'd been put with Esther; the most laid back of the group, her soothing voice and charming laugh making the entire ordeal a little less mortifying. When the driver finally closed her door, she blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, turning to you and smirking. 

"Logistically, they should've just stuck us all in the back of a van," she said. 

You giggled. "Yeah, or one of those things they transport horses in." 

"Can you imagine," she laughed. 

The engine rumbled to life and you began to move, following in a long line of classic cars decorated with flowers. You returned to fiddling with the twine on your bouquet, breathing slow to loosen the knots forming in your stomach. You tried to focus on the view from your window as you travelled out of the countryside and into the small town, people stopping to look as you all drove past, the pretty views and brightening sky. You hadn't been back there in two months, and it was hard to look at the cobbled roads, thatched roofs and kitschy village shops without thinking of him, without knowing you were just a car ride away from facing him again. 

"Are you okay?" asked Esther.

"Hm?" You turned to look at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." 

"Are you sure? You seem more nervous than Cam, and she's the bride." 

You breathed out a weak laugh. "No, I'm fine, really. Just... churches, y'know. They make me uneasy." 

"Ah." She nodded, smoothing down a piece of her dress that had puffed up between you. "Well don't worry about that. If I can walk into a church then you definitely can." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'm a trans woman, about to walk into a Catholic Church and stand in front of a priest who probably thinks I don't deserve to exist." 

"This one won't think that," you said. "He won't."

"How do you know? Have you met him?" 

"I have. And he's one of the good ones, I promise." 

She eyed you for a moment before smiling. "Well then you've got nothing to worry about either, have you." 

She reached over and squeezed your hand, holding it supportively for the rest of the journey. You felt bad, like you'd lied to her, taken her legitimate fear and used it to hide your own sordid truth. You'd tried to move on again, to get back to where you were before the day you found him in this town. But something was missing now, as though you'd left a piece of yourself behind, or maybe he'd taken it, and now nothing fit together right. 

The cars rolled to a stop outside the church. You could see the other bridesmaids gathering at the gates, their dresses fluttering together in a cloud of powder blue. The driver opened Esther's door first, taking her hand to help her out. And for a handful of seconds you were alone in the backseat, with nothing but the sound of your own breath, your nails raking over a fray in the twine you'd been fiddling with until it broke. 

"Oh, fuck sake," you whispered as the arrangement fell apart in your lap, stems and flowers and greenery sitting in the trough of your dress. 

You gathered it all back together frantically as your door opened, clutching it in your fist as you climbed out into the warm June breeze. Esther smiled at you, gesturing for you to come with her to join the others, then she looked down at the flowers in your hand, the piece of string in the other. 

"My god, you really are bricking it aren't you," she laughed, helping you tie it all back together. 

When you got to the other bridesmaids, your eyes darted across all of their bouquets, then down to yours. It looked like shit; too much green on one side, a clump of baby's-breath on the other, a broken stem of lavender hanging limply over your knuckles. You snapped it off and threw it to the ground behind you before anyone noticed. 

The bridal car pulled up and you watched as Camilla and her father climbed out, their smiles warmer than the summer air. You couldn't help but smile too, wondering if your own father would smile like that. He would. Though, he'd probably complain about having to wear a suit first.

You stared up at the church as you made your way towards it, blowing out slow, shaking breaths through pursed lips. 

"It's not about you, Ellis," you muttered to yourself. "This isn't about you." 

You felt an arm link yours, turning to see Esther at your side. She was looking straight ahead, pressing her lips together nervously, and you couldn't help but wonder if the arm she'd given was for your benefit or her's. 

The familiar musky aroma hit you as you walked into the church. You pushed your nose into your lopsided flowers, breathing in their scent instead, wishing you could tuck yourself away inside the petals like Thumbelina until it was all over. 

The organiser shifted you around, peeling you from Esther's side to arrange you in a line. You breathed a sigh of relief to find yourself somewhere in the middle, kicking the bottom of your dress out to stop it getting caught under your feet. Short steps, that's what the dressmaker had said. Little shuffles, a small kick if you feel it catching on your shoes. You were going to fall over. You just knew it. 

Music began to play in the chapel and the hum of chit chat fell silent. You took a deep breath, glancing over your shoulder to give Esther a reassuring smile, before turning back and staring down at the ground, waiting for your turn to walk. 

Lottie went first. Then Georgia, then Femi, then it was you. You turned the corner and stepped through the open chapel doors, taking the fastest small steps you possibly could, wishing you'd convinced Rav to choose the church with the tiny aisle instead. Heads were turned, women in large hats and extravagant fascinators, men with corsages on their lapels and children with wide eyes, all watching you with smiles as you made your way towards the altar. You kept your eyes on Femi in front, watching the way her dress moved so gracefully across the floor, hoping yours somehow looked the same. 

You finally raised your head when you reached the front, your eyes meeting Father Benedict's almost immediately. He was smiling softly, a crisp white stole draped around his neck. You notice his throat bob with a swallow, a glisten along the waterlines of his eyes. You could have cried. But then you looked at Rav, and you couldn't help but break into a smile. He was beaming, chest puffed, shifting on his feet with excited energy as he waited for his bride. He winked at you and you scrunched your nose happily before stepping aside to stand with the other bridesmaids. Esther followed behind you, then Alice. 

Father Benedict raised his hands and the music changed. There was a collective shuffle as everyone in the pews rose to their feet, turning to see Camilla enter the chapel, a bouquet in one hand, her father's fingers firmly clutched in the other. They walked together to the sweet sound of strings, her dress and veil trailing elegantly behind her. She kept her eyes on Rav the entire time, smiling, blushing, and you felt a selfish sense of pride wash over you. You'd introduced them. You'd known how perfect they would be for each other before they'd ever even met. And now here they were, just a year later, declaring their love in front of you all. 

"Hello everyone," said Father Benedict. "We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Raviraj and Camilla. Let us call upon God to be with us today as we celebrate this union. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Peace be with you."  "And also with you," you said quietly, your voice lost amongst the collective.

"Let us pray."

You sat down as he began the prayer. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savour his voice, just for a moment. 

You wondered if he realised he was looking at you. Those striking blue eyes glancing over every few moments as he gave his first few readings, almost as though he was checking you were still there, making sure you hadn't been a figment of his imagination. You listened to him speak carefully; this was what he'd chosen, to share the word of his God, and he was good at it. 

"Raviraj and Camilla, you have come together today so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of your family and friends," he said. "And in doing so, you will be strengthened to keep mutual and lasting faith with each other as you carry out the duties of marriage. And so, in the presence of the church and of your family and friends, I ask you to state your intentions."

Rav and Camilla exchanged a glance and a nervous laugh. You smiled. 

"Raviraj and Camilla, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?" 

"I have," they both said. 

"Raviraj, are you resolved to take Camilla to be your wife: to love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and forsaking all others, to be faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?" 

"I am," said Rav, pressing his lips together to hold back an excited grin. 

"Camilla, are you resolved to take Raviraj to be your husband: to love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and forsaking all others, to be faithful to him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I am," said Camilla. 

"And are you, Raviraj Mishra free lawfully to marry Camilla Anne Bowen?" 

"I am." 

"Are you, Camilla Anne Bowen free lawfully to marry Raviraj Mishra?" 

"I am."  "Well that's lucky," said Father Benedict, getting a light chuckle from everyone, including the bride and groom. 

He was always so good at easing tension; knowing exactly when people needed a moment to laugh, a second to take a breath. 

"Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his church," he said, gesturing for them to hold hands. 

You watched on with pure joy as the couple said their vows, your cheeks aching from smiling, any nerves or apprehension you had melting away as you listened to them giggle and trip over their words. But every now and again, you would find your gaze slipping to Father Benedict; the smile lines, the crinkled brow, the curve of his lips as he laughed. 

"You were right, he is really nice, isn't he," Esther whispered as she leaned over to you.

You nodded. "He is. I'm really glad he's the one doing this." 

"Do we have rings?" he asked.

Rav's best man took a step forward, taking the rings from the breast pocket of his suit and handing them to Father Benedict. 

"Lovely, okay," he said, clearing his throat. "May the Lord bless these rings, which you will give to each other as a sign of love and fidelity. Amen." 

He handed Rav a ring. "Repeat after me: Camilla, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." 

"Camilla," said Rav. "Receive this ring as a sign of..." 

You slapped your face with your palm. Camilla rolled her eyes with a laugh. 

"Come on, I gave you the easy version of this as well," Father Benedict joked, drawing another laugh from the guests. "As a sign of my love and fidelity." 

"Camilla, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." 

He patted Rav on the shoulder like a proud father, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Give me the hard version," said Camilla, making him chuckle deeply in his throat. 

"Has to be the same, I'm afraid." He gave her the ring. "Raviraj, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." 

"Raviraj, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," she said before slipping it onto his finger, smiling like she'd perfectly recited a Shakespeare soliloquy.

Father Benedict ran a hand through his hair. "Now this is where we would usually declare them husband and wife," he said, addressing the chapel. "However, Raviraj and Camilla have asked if they can read their own declarations which they have prepared. So I will now take a step back and allow Raviraj to begin." 

You sat up straighter, your ears pricking with curiosity as Rav reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it with nervous fingers and clearing his throat. 

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Camilla. Before I met you, I'd stopped believing in love. And because of that, I'd grown comfortable on my own; complacent, maybe even a little bit jaded. But from the second I laid eyes on you, I was forced to confront everything I thought I knew. You made me realise that love isn't something you can just avoid. It's something you feel whether you want to or not, and it should be embraced and cherished and nurtured."

The paper was shaking in his hands, and it almost made you tear up. You placed a hand over your chest as you listened, glancing over at Father Benedict who hadn't taken his eyes off Rav since he began speaking. 

"You found me at a time when I didn't even realise I was lost. When I thought the only way to be strong was to be alone. You showed me that real strength lies in being vulnerable and honest and imperfect, in being brave enough to risk letting someone behind the barricade. Maybe you'll lose everything. Or maybe..." He gestured to Camilla. "You'll gain more than you had to begin with." 

Father Benedict looked at you, you knew because you could feel his gaze on your face like the sun's rays. But you kept yours on Rav.

"So today, I vow to you, Camilla, that I will always keep my heart open for you. I vow to choose you, every single day. You are my person, my partner, and the best risk I ever took." 

The sound of sniffling echoed through the chapel, and you watched as Camilla wiped a tear from her cheek. She cleared her throat, turning to Alice who took out a piece of paper and handed it to her quickly.

"Rav," she said as she unfolded the paper, her voice still wobbly. "When a little over a year ago, a friend told me I should meet her neighbour, I was skeptical." 

You smiled, like you'd been given a shout out on the radio, mentioned in an Oscars speech. Father Benedict held back a smirk as he watched your reaction, rubbing his mouth with his fingers to hide it.

"I was focused and career driven and believed that a relationship would only slow me down. So I said no to meeting you. But then, like an act of God." She gestured to the church around her with a shy laugh. "We ended up in the same bar one night, where that friend introduced us after all. And I am... so glad. Loving you was never a question; I adored you from the start. The fear was that I'd found my soulmate at the wrong time in my life." 

Your focus flitted to Father Benedict as you thought of the last thing he'd said to you. Right person, wrong everything else. He swallowed, his eyes glazed over as Camilla spoke. 

"But there came a point where I had to ask myself: If I were to look back on my life, what would I regret more? Missing out on a few promotions? Or missing out on a lifetime of loving you? There was no contest. Choosing you isn't just a decision. It's the best decision I've ever made. I don't want to wonder what could have been." She flipped her paper over to read the other side. "And what I've discovered is that I actually haven't had to give up anything. Because you have supported me and encouraged me and cheered me on in whatever I've chosen to do. So my promise to you, Rav, is to always do the same. I promise to love and encourage and cheer you on in whatever you do, and I promise to choose you every day, because the only thing worse than not being with you is the regret of never having tried." 

You brought your hands together to clap, stopping when you realised no one else was applauding. Instead there were tears, sharp sniffs and coughs. Father Benedict stepped back up to them, clearing his throat and curling his mouth into a sincere smile. 

"That was beautiful," he said. "Now, let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favour with his help those on whom he has bestowed the bond of marriage." 

"Closer if you can, Darlin'," said the photographer from behind his camera. 

You shuffled closer to the groomsman you'd been placed beside, so close your hip was now pressing against him. Surely this was close enough. You held your bouquet in front of you and smiled as the camera snapped in quick succession. 

The sun was gleaming now in a clear blue sky, the air growing humid as you all stood outside the church for photos. The confetti you'd thrown was fluttering across the grass in the light breeze, the cars waiting near the road to take you to the reception. 

"That's lovely," said the photographer. "If you on the end there could just turn your body inwards a bit please." 

Lottie turned as the camera snapped again. 

You were standing in a meticulously organised row; six groomsmen and six bridesmaids, slotted together and posed in your blue dresses and their matching blue ties and pocket squares. Your groomsman was Rav's cousin Niall, who kept making you laugh by muttering things under his breath. 

"You, love, you're going to have to get closer than that," said the photographer. 

"Me?" You pointed to yourself. 

"If you can please, darlin'." 

"Jesus, any closer and we'll have to use protection," said Niall quietly.

You laughed through your nose, trying to hold it in as the camera shutter went off again. 

Across the grass, Rav and Camilla were standing together, stealing kisses and holding hands beneath the shade of a large tree. You felt warm watching them, unsure if you'd ever been this unequivocally happy for someone else before. Your eyes moved over the groups of guests to the church, your heart stopping for a moment when you saw Father Benedict standing at the top of the steps near the entrance. 

He was out of his white alb and stole now, standing with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves and white clerical collar around his neck. He met your gaze for a moment and you gave him a soft smile. He smiled back, but it seemed sad, even from so far away. 

"Can we do a funny one?" asked Georgia.

The rest of you groaned in unison, but it was too late, the photographer already coming over to reposition the group. He turned you all sideways, your back to Niall's chest, his back to Esther's and so on until it looked like a twelve person queue.

"This is a bit human centipede-y, don't you think?" Niall called out to him.

"Do you think he's going to have us conga all the way back to the manor?" Esther joked.

Niall laughed. "Ellis is leading so we'd all be fucked." 

You elbowed him. 

"Alright, after three you're all going to kick out your leg and lean back on the person behind you!" the photographer shouted. 

"Oh cheers, Georgia, this is just wonderful," said one of the groomsmen. 

"I just wanted to pull some funny faces," she shouted back. "I didn't think he'd have us doing fucking Cirque du Soleil!" 

You looked over at Father Benedict again, shaking your head at him. His shoulders shook with a gentle laugh, his hand covering a smile. 

The photographer moved on to Camilla and Rav's parents soon after. You stayed on the grass, trying to rearrange your bouquet as your heels sank into the soft earth beneath you. You looked over at the other bridesmaids, watching as they all found their partners amongst the chaos; Alice and her husband talking to Femi and her fiancé, Lottie sitting on the church steps FaceTiming her boyfriend in Australia as Georgia introduced her girlfriend to Esther and her boyfriend. You bit the inside of your cheek, returning your attention to the flowers in your hand.

"Ellie!" 

You looked up to see Blossom running towards you. 

"Hi," you said, bending down to hug her before pulling back to look at her dress, the mint green material covered in a subtle frog print. "You look so cute." 

She smiled as Lorna caught up behind her, placing a hand lovingly on top of her daughter's head.

"So you compromised on her wearing the frog onesie to the wedding, then," you said. 

She nodded. "Praise the lord." 

You laughed. 

She slid her sunglasses onto her head, her almost-knee-length hair falling in loose waves down her back. She was wearing a long, sunflower print dress with exaggerated bell sleeves, a pair of wooden clogs with hand-painted soles. You didn't realise you were staring at her until she narrowed her eyes at you. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Oh, sorry. Sometimes I just wish I was you." 

"Don't be silly." She laughed and patted your arm. "I'm just going to see Rav. Are you coming Blossom?"

The little girl didn't move. You looked at Lorna and smiled. "I'll stay with her."

She thanked you as she walked away, and you returned to plucking stray leaves from your bouquet. You looked down to see Blossom running her fingers over your dress, quietly admiring the appliqués.

"Do you like it?" you asked. 

She nodded.

"I'll save it for you. You can have it when you're older." 

She smiled shyly. 

You crouched down, resting on your haunches to look at the dress with her, turning at the waist so she could see the back. 

Father Benedict was still standing at the top of the church steps, leaning against the open door as he stared off into space. But he seemed to sense that you were looking at him, glancing down to catch your gaze. 

You wanted to talk to him. Not about what happened, not about the two of you or your feelings or religion or anything. You just wanted to talk. About the weather, about how his day was going, about what he was going to have for dinner. There had to be a part of you that was still capable of that. 

Blossom pointed to one of the appliqués near the hem of your dress. "This one is my favourite," she said.

She didn't talk a lot, so whenever she did it took you by surprise. You returned your attention to her immediately. 

"Really? I like that one too. And this one here." 

You looked back up to find him smiling; a soft, sincere smile that made your heart ache. 

"Ellis, our car's ready to go!" Esther shouted across the grass. 

You stood up, taking Blossom's hand to lead her back to Lorna, allowing one last glance back at the church steps. 

A strange sense of calm washed over you as you looked at him, like there was comfort in your last memory of him being in the place he'd chosen to stay. 

You weren't sure how you'd ended up in the middle of the dance floor, huddled amongst a huge group of women as they squashed together in excitement. You'd intended to stay on the outskirts, but someone had pulled you, another accidentally pushing you further inward, until eventually you were at the heart of the cluster, watching as Camilla turned her back, counting down from three. 

Her bouquet came flying towards you, but instead of catching it, you ducked, letting it soar over your head and into the hands of a woman behind you. She jumped and cheered, the rest of the women laughing and clapping as her boyfriend jokingly made a run for the door. 

"God, Ellis, tell me you're scared of commitment without telling me you're scared of commitment," said Camilla, laughing as she walked over to you. 

"Well my natural reaction to things flying at my head is to duck," you said with a shrug. 

A waiter walked past with a tray of champagne. She plucked one off it and took a large gulp.

"The world's not running out of champagne, Cam," you said. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, wiping the corner of her mouth with her hand. "This whole wedding's just been so stressful. All that drama with the planner, and then the fucking church burning down." 

"Maybe it was her. Set fire to it out of spite because you sacked her." 

She laughed. "Wouldn't put it past her. We're just so lucky we got the church we did. He was nice wasn't he. The priest. Made it really... not boring."

"Yeah, he was... It was good." 

She cocked her head, brow furrowing slightly. "What?" 

"What?" 

"You just seem really sad." 

"I'm not sad. I'm not." You looked around the busy hall. "Lonely, yes. Sad, no." 

"Oh, Ellis, don't say that, you're breaking my heart."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm only joking. Go and enjoy your wedding for Christ's sake." 

She eventually disappeared into the sea of guests as you made your way over to the bar. You ordered a drink and plonked yourself back down at your table, resting your cheek on your fist as you sipped it slowly. 

The large hall was dark, flashing with colourful disco lights and strobes as the DJ played music from a deck in the corner. You watched people enjoying themselves; the funny dance-walk they'd do as they made their way to the floor, the buttons of men's shirts coming further undone as they got drunker and sweatier, the kids being told off for sliding on their knees in their good clothes.

Your table was empty since Lorna had taken Blossom home, the bridesmaids up dancing and catching up with people they knew on the other side of the room. You didn't mind, always finding parties more of an obligation than they were fun; you hated having to shout down people's ears just to have a conversation, being pressured to get up and dance, losing your seat if you left it for too long. You much preferred to sit on the edge of the room, nursing a drink and people watching. You were Ellis Attenborough, observing humans in their natural habitat. 

The music lowered and the multicoloured lights melted to a warm white. You looked around in confusion as the noise of the hall seemed to hush suddenly. 

"Ladies and gentleman, please join me in welcoming the new Mr and Mrs Mishra to the floor for their first dance as husband and wife," said the DJ over the speakers.

The room erupted into cheers and applause. You clapped along as Rav took Camilla's hand and led her to the centre of the empty dance floor. She'd changed dresses, swapping her ornate, bountiful gown for a sleek, elegant slip. You watched as the photographer scurried around them, trying to get a good shot as they wrapped their arms around each other and began to sway to the music. 

You hated yourself for thinking of him as you watched them dance. You hated that you felt jealous, persecuted, forced to spend the rest of your life as a spectator to other people's love stories from the corner of the room. You'd never been certain of what you wanted, and there was something so cruel in knowing now; knowing that you did want the marriage, the children, the brushing teeth side by side in the mirror each morning and washing dishes while the other dried them in the evenings. You wanted the fights, the sex, the anniversaries, the dates. You wanted to be a girlfriend, then a fiancé, then a wife. And if there really was a God, he was a fucking arsehole for taking all of those wants and putting them into a man you could never have. For setting up the dominoes so perfectly and then moving the last one just an inch too far to fall. 

The song was still going, and you watched as other couples began to join them on the dance floor, moving in their own little bubbles, smiling, kissing, embracing. You got up and weaved through the crowd towards the exit, stepping out of the hall into the vast, empty foyer of the stately home.

You grabbed the hem of your dress, lumping the abundance of material in your arms as you made your way through the front doors and out into the cool night air. Your ears were ringing, the noise of the party a distant hum as you walked down the steps and over the gravel towards the gardens. There were a few people dotted over the grounds, a couple walking hand-in-hand through the flower gardens, a man in a three piece suit smoking a cigarette as he sat on the grass, a woman waiting for a cab near the long driveway. 

You trudged over the grass with your dress balled up in your arms, drinking in deep breaths as you prepared yourself to go back inside. You turned around, taking in the full view of the manor, the stars above so bright and unpolluted by city light. 

You held your middle finger up at the sky. "Fuck you," you said. "You won. Well done." 

The man with the cigarette gave you an awkward look. 

"I'm talking to God," you said. "He's a prick." 

"Ah." He nodded.

You let out an exasperated sigh and walked back towards the house, almost tripping when your heel got caught in the grass. The noise from the reception grew louder as you made it back onto the gravel, and you wondered if you should just go straight upstairs to your room, lie down and begin nursing the inevitable headache. You reached into your bra for your key card, pulling it out and immediately dropping it, listening as it clattered down each step you'd just climbed. 

"Of course," you muttered, turning around to walk back down when a figure emerged from the dark. 

His footsteps crunched slowly as his tall frame came into view. You stopped, back straightening, blinking rapidly as your brain tried to catch up with your eyes. 

"Hi," said Father Benedict, his voice so quiet the breeze almost carried it away. 

"Hi..." you replied, brows coming together in confusion. 

He picked up the key card and held it out to you.

"Thanks," you said, walking down the last few steps and taking it from him. "I... I didn't think priests usually got invited to the reception..." 

"I wasn't invited," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "I erm, it was actually quite stalkerish if I'm honest, I'm- I'm not proud of it. I asked around the town and found out where they were having it." 

"Oh." You looked over your shoulder to the open doors. "Well I'm sure they won't mind that you're here. They seemed to really like y-"

"I came to find you." 

"To find me?" 

"To tell you that this morning was my last service." 

"You're moving churches again?" 

"I'm leaving the clergy." 

You fell silent, looking around in bewilderment. "Wh- I don't und- Why?" 

"You know why." 

You stared at him for a moment, then your eyes grew wide. "No," you breathed. "No. You can't- You can't."

"Well I have." 

"Wh- Wh... When did you...?" 

"Today." 

You lost your grip on the skirt of your dress, the material falling from your arms to the floor. "Why would you do that?" 

He didn't answer, looking down at you like you already knew. 

"Ben..." 

"I can live without this." He pointed to his collar, before shaking his head, his voice cracking. "I don't think I can live without you." 

Your lips parted, a breath escaping like your lungs had caved in. Your eyes were beginning to water because you'd forgotten how to blink, your heart thumping in time with the music inside. 

"Ellis," he whispered. 

"Are you playing a trick on me?"

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as he moved closer and brought his hands up to cup your face. He tilted your head back slightly and leaned down, placing a slow, tender kiss on your lips. When he stopped, he let his forehead rest against yours, looking into your eyes as you struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

"But what... What if- If it didn't work out? Then-"

"Then I'd be thankful I got to love you. Openly, completely. Even if it was just for a little while." 

"You're not thinking clearly. You're giving up everything-"

"I'm gaining everything."

You shook your head in disbelief. 

Another quiet laugh rumbled in his throat. "Ellis," he said. "What do you want?" 

You paused, staring up at him. "I want to brush my teeth with you." 

"What?" 

You shook your head, throwing your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into another kiss. His hands slid down from your face to wrap around your waist, hugging you tight as your lips moved in perfect tandem. You felt him smile, and you smiled too, weaving your fingers into the back of his hair.

Rav and Camilla wandered through the doors, taking a few steps before stopping suddenly. 

"Is that... Ellis... kissing our priest...?" asked Rav.

Camilla grabbed his arm and they slowly retreated back inside. 

Ben broke away, bringing his hands back to your face as he stared down at you. "Right person," he said. "Full stop."

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara @dude-where-s-my-tardis @run-clever-boy @j3mj3rrica

[iamsherlocked1479]

Happpy New Year

Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: explicit content 18+, slut shame, chocking

Description: Stephen doesn't like that you recived a compliment, he doesn't like that somebody would even consoder they had a chance with you.

——————————

Most people are drunk right now, you’re not denying that you were, of course nobody leaves a Stark party completely sober. All beat it, most of the guests haven’t left yet, they were currently counting down to midnight last you heard the ball will drop in 10 minutes, but you couldn’t care right now. You’re currently pressed up against the padded wall of what looks like a gym, technically you hadn’t left Stark Tower yet, with your legs neatly parted over Stephen's shoulders as his tongue glided through your slick folds. 

“Oh fuck steph- we’re gonna miss the countown, we have to- shit.” Your eyes squinted shut and your hand tightened in his hair as he drew you closer to an orgasm. Your statement was thoroughly met with a grunt and a quick “I don’t care sweetheart” as his tongue continued to lap its way around your clit.

This had all started because Thor complimented your dress, he meant no harm of course only stating that you should belong with the Asgardian gods. But like always Stephen was jealous, he hated that a man would even consider himself worthy of being able to see you the way he did, a goddess in your own right. So after that one incident, at exactly 11:49pm Stephen had enough of the looks you were getting, even though you only had eyes for him, and proceeded to pull you into the nearest empty room and show exactly how only he could make you feel.

“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t want anyone hearing those sweet sounds you make for me.” He said, snaking his hand up your body to cover your mouth as you came. He lifted your legs off his shoulder and pinned you between him and the wall. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, your hands continued to work on the buttons of his shirt as they had done earlier before he dropped to his knees for you. “Ah, ah sweetheart” he grabbed your wrists and moved your hand to his tight trousers where you palmed him through his clothes, “we gotta do this fast, i want all the others to see me kiss you at midnight.” He purred as he spun you around, tracing his cock between your folds before pushing you against the wall with a deep thrust. 

You didn’t like jealous stephen, but you loved the way he fucked, he was normally so gentle and kind making sure to touch and kiss you everyway possible before slowly drawing out orgasm after orgasm. But jealous Stephen, he fucked hard, he wasnt one for yelling or arguing, so he would take out his frustrations by pounding into you, he wanted to prove how fast he could make you cum how only he could make you feel that good. 

“You’re mine you know that right?” He purred as he sucked and nibbled at the pulse point on your neck leaving a purple mark for all to see. His cock had the perfect curve making it rub right against your g-spot in this position.

“Steph- please, i know im yours, fuck” you cried as his hand snaked around your neck bringing your head to his. He squeezed slightly, not enough to make it hard for you to breathe, but enough for your hand to clamp onto his wrist and walls to clench around his cock.

“Did you like the way Thor looked at you?” He moved his free hand to pull your dress down just enough to expose your tits to the world. “Did you want him looking at these?” He groaned with his cock twitching inside you. He grabbed on one of your tits, roughly massaging it in his hand and pinching on the nipple. “You know you’re so beautiful, I know you know every man smart enough wants you, admit it you like the attention.” He hissed, kissing your neck and thrusting even harder causing a pile of weights to tumble to the floor. “Tell me sweetheart, do you enjoy the attention?”

“Ye- shit, yes stephen. Fuck.” You moaned, your legs shaking at the overstimulation. He spun you around so that you could see yourselves in the mirrored walls, one hand gripped your chin and pointed you towards the mirror, while the other clung around your abdomen holding you in place as he kept himself inside you.

“Look at you.” He hummed in satisfaction, you looked at what you saw, your dress creased, tits popping out over the top of your dress, mascara running down your face, legs shaking, “look at us” you looked at him through the reflection, eyes darkened, hair stuck with sweat to his forehead, shirt falling down his shoulders and his trousers down only just enough to get his cock out. It was a sight to see, yet a sight you and stephen both loved to see, he loved showing you what he can do to you, and you loved that stupid dumb sarcastic smile of his. 

His arm that wrapped around your waist slid down to your clit as he continued pushing inside you, his fingers played with your clit using his precum that dripped from you as a lubricant, adding to the pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut as you could feel that knot tightening, threatening to break as your insides fluttered. Stephen moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

“Open your eyes” he demanded “I want you to watch as I make you cum, i want you to realise you’re a slut, but you’re my slut.” He grunted as he felt himself drawing closer to his release, his fingers now frantically swiped up and down your clit and with his cock still hitting your g-spot, the sensation became unbearable and the knot snapped, this felt different your felt yourself dripping onto him and creating a small puddle on the hard gym floor. Your knees buckled and you melted to the floor where Stephen set you on all fours, still making sure you can see yourself in the mirror. He kept himself inside you as you slumped, trying to catch your breath

“You see that, that's how good I can make you feel. Tell me what you are.” he said, giving you a single hard thrust causing the sound of skin on skin to echo through the dark room.

“Yours.” you said through breathless moans, this landed a firm yet satisfying slap on you ass as he sped up his motions.

“My what?” he said “speak up” he said moaning, following his own ecstasy

“Your slut.” you cried out, holding yourself up as you could see in the mirror that he was completely lost in the chase for his own orgasm, so you angled yourself that you were pushing yourself onto him every time he entered you. “I’m your slut stephen, yours and yours alone, my pussy is made for you.” your words only encouraged him as he moaned with the satisfaction that the lesson he had been trying to teach you had finally sunk in. 

“That's right sweetheart, your mine” His trembling hands practically vibrated as he gripped the fat of your hips turning his knuckles white. You looked in the mirror, the smell of sex filling your nostrils, you looked at the sight behind you, his biceps straining through the sleeves of that white dress shirt you loved so much, his muscular chest shining with sweat. That was the man you fell in love with, every inch of him, even his salt and pepper temples he hated so much, you loved him.

“Say it again sweetheart.” he begged, he was so close.

“I’m your slut Stephen. I want you to fill me up, make your slut drip with your cum Stephen.” you called out with a victorious smile as he came, strengthening his grip on your waist. His body caved on top of yours as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

“Did you fuck out that atitude?” you asked with a giggle

“I don’t have an attitude.” he stated, sitting back on his knees and watching his seed drip from you. “I just like to make my opinion clear.” he smiled when you jolted as he pushed his cum back into your sensitive hole.

“I think you did.” you got up and put your underwear back on, which had been left at the door, the face he pulled when he realised you were just going to keep his seed inside you almost wanted to make you do it all again, but you did have a deadline to meet. You watched as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked himself back in place. “You know I love you and only you right?” 

“Of Course i do.” he walked over and kissed your forehead “i just wished other people understood that.” he clicked his fingers and your makeup and hair neatened themselves up like nothing had happened and linked his arm into yours.

“It was just a compliment Stephen, Thor didn’t mean anything by it.” you laughed to yourself as the hum of the party grew near

“You don’t know that for sure.” Stephen joked back as he grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“I know you’re jealous.” you looked at him and he rolled his eyes

“So what if I was?” he smiled “Sometimes i think you prefer it.”

“So what if I did?” your brow quirked, he opened his mouth to say something when you were interrupted by the rest of the guests beginning to count down and stephen lead you to the balcony where the others where

“3… 2… 1… Happy new year!” Stephen pulled you towards him and locked his lips with yours with a passionate kiss, you had to grip your glass so that you didn’t drop it on impact, he pulled you closer to him, allowing you to rest on his chest before finally parting.

“Happy new year sweetheart.” he smiled and gave you another peck

“Happy new year.” you smiled back

“Now correct me if i’m wrong but we need to go home, i haven’t seen you naked since last year.” he pulled your wrist

“That joke wasn’t funny last year and it still isn’t” you gave him a pity laugh

“Then why are you following me?”

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A/N: I have to say i might have gotten a little carried away with some of the language there, but im not appologising, this was based of a dream i had a few weeks back and i thought i'd turn it into a lil end of year gift for you all because in january i will have bneen posting for two years which is crazy to me because this year we have grown from around 50 followrrs to 250! which is even more crazy so, hope to get back into the swing of things next and hope you all have a great new year love ypu all sm! <3

[thedaredevilsgirl]

False God

Priest!Stephen Strange X Reader

Warnings: Small discussion, SMUT: sex without a condom.

Hi, this is Ray. In this short excerpt we have Father Strange so in love with one of his devotees, since a little forbidden love never hurt anyone. This excerpt was taken from a story I've been planning for some time, inspired in Thou Shalt Not Covet by @daydreamtofiction and the song False God by Taylor Swift. Please let me know what you think and if you think I should start posting the first chapters of this story. I hope you enjoy it. -Forgive any grammatical errors, English is not my first language-

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... "I need an answer, God," the priest says, now on his knees, begging the Lord to respond and help him with his dilemma. "I just need an answer."

It is at that exact moment that Strange hears the heavy church door opening and closing, rising to look at the candlelit hallway that highlighted a silhouette so familiar to him.

Stephen feels his breath falter; the vision before him, walking toward him, was wicked and sinful for his thoughts, yet still seemed deliciously divine.

You were there, soaked from the heavy rain falling outside, the dress you had worn earlier at the festival now clinging to your body.

"It’s late," Stephen says, after gathering the courage to finally speak to you. "What are you doing here? You should be home by now."

"I need to confess," you explain, your voice trembling, perhaps a little nervous.

"It’s past midnight, the church is closed, come back tomorrow," he didn't mean to be harsh, but thought it was the only way to get you to leave quickly, though he was wrong.

"I need to confess," you repeat, making it clear you wouldn’t leave until you got what you wanted. "God’s house doesn’t close to a believer, no matter the hour. You, of all people, should know that, Father Strange."

Being called Father Strange by you hurt. Just days ago, you were close, perhaps even friends. He had grown used to hearing your sweet voice calling him Stephen, until he had given in to temptation during the trip to New York. Hearing you be so polite with him now reminded him of how greatly he had erred.

"You’re right," Stephen knew he would regret it, but he already felt so guilty for everything he had done with you that he couldn’t deny your wishes any longer.

The two walk silently to the large confessional in the corner of the church. He could hear everything even through the wooden wall, listening to your trembling breath as you prepared to speak, watching through the small window as you made the sacred sign of the cross.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you begin.

"Tell me what happened, and we will decide your penance."

"I am engaged," the small reminder of this fact made Stephen’s heart ache in his chest. "And he is a good man, a really good man, but I don’t love him. In fact, I feel like I’ve never truly loved him, but my family adores him, and this union would be great for everyone."

"The church does not support a marriage built without true love," the priest says, trying to hide from both you and himself that, in reality, he was more than pleased to know of your lack of love for that idiot your family had chosen for you.

"I know, I know, but I must marry him; it’s what everyone expects of me, what they’ve always wanted for me, and I simply cannot ruin their plans," the pain in your voice and exhaustion was palpable, trying to be the perfect daughter and feeling like you had to carry the world on your shoulders. "So I must marry him, try to love him, respect him, and be faithful to him," you take a deep breath before continuing. "But that’s the problem, Father. I’m in love with another man. More than that, I lay with this man, and forgive my words, but damn, I loved every bit of it."

Stephen says your name in a warning tone. "I think we’d better not talk about this," he doesn’t have time to finish reprimanding you, as you quickly interrupt him.

"But the next day, he left me. He said the best night of my life had been a mistake that couldn’t be repeated, said we should stay away from each other. Suddenly, I lost a faithful friend, a confidant, and he broke my heart."

"Stop, please," he pleads.

"And I should be happy about that," your tone rises, emotions overwhelming you. "I should kneel before God and be thankful, go back to living my life as if none of this had happened, but I can’t."

"Stop," Stephen repeats, not knowing what he could do if this went on.

"I can’t, because all I can think about is him, his voice, his advice, his touch," the sound of your footsteps in the booth is audible. "And I don’t know what to do anymore. I find myself in the middle of the night wishing he were there with me, craving his kiss, touching myself wishing he would touch me that way, desiring every part of him, desiring you."

The priest felt he might explode at any moment, give in to his temptations, and worst of all, he wanted it. He had wanted it for a long time.

The curtain on his side of the booth suddenly opens, and he finds himself face to face with you, panting, still wet from the rain, tears streaking your face.

"So tell me, Father," you move closer to where he was sitting, "tell me what I should do when all I want is you?"

"This...this isn’t right," it was the first time in years Stephen found himself stammering with nervousness.

"I KNOW, DAMN IT, I KNOW," you shout, unable to contain yourself any longer. "But I can’t, I can’t resist anymore. I’ve tried, I’ve been trying since the day I met you, and I know you’ve been trying too. Don’t lie to me."

Your hand rests gently on his face, making him sigh. He had missed your touch so much in the past weeks.

"Please, don’t do this," Strange whispers, looking at you, his beautiful blue eyes now darkened by his dilated pupils. He does nothing to pull away, one of his hands moving directly to your waist.

"Tell me to leave, and I will. I’ll only step into this church again on my wedding day, and then you’ll never see me again. But I know you want me here, I know you want me."

He couldn’t resist anymore, not now, not ever.

Stephen pulls you tightly by the waist, guiding you to sit on his lap, finally kissing you again. This time was different; it wasn’t gentle. Instead, he poured all the longing he had felt into that kiss, aggressively holding you tightly as if you might slip away from his arms at any moment, his hand moving up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, deepening the kiss even more.

"I missed you," you whisper between kisses.

"I don’t think I could put into words how much I missed you."

His other hand slides down one of your thighs, removing the friction of the wet fabric of your dress from your body. The only thing you could feel in that moment was the immense pleasure of his body’s heat against yours, sighing in pleasure as his finger neared the wetness already forming in your panties.

You are quick to unzip his pants and touch his already hard cock.

Everything happens quickly, both of you burning with desire, just wanting to feel each other and quench the longing that had consumed you for weeks.

He doesn’t even bother removing your panties, just pushing them aside and making you slide down onto his cock, a long moan escaping your lips, tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes.

You move, experimenting with the different position, holding onto him even tighter, watching him and unable to contain your sounds of delight with each new movement.

Stephen feels himself nearing the edge, and he doesn’t care if he’s coming too quickly. All he could think about in that moment was how beautiful you looked riding him, the most divine vision he had ever seen in his life. If he were to go to hell for this, it didn’t matter—it was worth it.

He wraps a finger around your necklace, with its silver crucifix, pulling you in for one last kiss as the two of you reach your climax.

You rest your head on his shoulder, recovering, feeling his arms holding you tightly.

"Don’t leave me, Stephen, please," you whisper. "I need you."

"I won’t, not ever," his hand gently caresses your back, comforting you. "I promise you."

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@ironstrange1991 (You commented that I could tag you in the posts about Stephen, so I hope you like it )

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my next stories 💞

[omgstarks]

The Doctor Will See You Now (Stephen Strange x Reader)

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Nervous for your first ob-gyn visit, you meet the handsome Doctor Stephen Strange. As he guides you through the examination, a mix of anxiety and attraction brews.

Warnings: SMUT over 18+ ONLY, semi-public sex, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving)

AN: Just had my first cervical exam so...

“Hi, I’ve got an appointment at 4:00.” You leaned against the counter while the receptionist behind it typed away at her computer.

“Your name?”

“Y/N, L/N”

“Great, I’ve checked you in. If you can have a seat, one of the doctors will come out and call you.” She gave you a reassuring smile. You took a seat in the waiting room. It was a cold, bright room that was illuminated with harsh LED white lights. In the background, played some local radio station. You were feeling anxious. It would be your first time seeing an ob-gyn, and the thought of being bare from the waist down to a complete stranger was intimidating, even more so if the doctor wasn’t a woman.

You looked around the room to see some other patients of all ages waiting. Mostly women, but a handful of men. It was nice to know some men actually cared about their sexual health.

You waited patiently as patients came and went, scrolling through Instagram to past the time or just sitting alone in your thoughts, periodically skipping through songs on Spotify. Suddenly, the big doors leading to the examination rooms swung open, and a man walked through, clipboard in hand. All eyes followed, hopeful to be the next one called.

The doctor, tall, with a slender figure and dark hair graced by white at his temples, wore navy blue scrubs beneath a white lab coat. He wore a face mask which he took off revealing a sharp jawline and high cheek bones.

“Y/N? Y/N L/N.” He spoke in a low baritone voice, scanning the room. You lifted your hand and quickly grabbed your things, standing up to meet him. His eyes met yours, and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, and I’ll be conducting the examination and tests with you.”

“Hi,” you replied, a touch more nervous at the realization that your doctor was a man- even worse, an attractive one at that. He looked slightly older than you, probably in his late 30’s early 40’s But his clean-shaven face and styled hair, made him look younger.

“You can follow me this way.” He held the door open for you to walk through and led you down a hallway. You followed him, watching the white coat billowing behind.

“The room is just down here.” He motioned to the examination room at the end of the hall.

“Just take a seat in the blue chair by the computer, please.” You nodded and took a seat, scanning the room you were in. The room was small and sterile, with white walls and tile floors. A single circular window offered a view of the city below. 

On the wall by the door were a couple of large posters. One with the different forms of contraception and the other an infographic of the female reproductive system. Your eyes scanned the poster, and you felt a slight shiver run down your spine. You knew that this doctor would be examining your reproductive system in just a few minutes, and you couldn't help but feel nervous. He was an attractive man- a part of you just hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself by doing anything inappropriate during your examination.

Doctor Strange sat at the computer, reading up on your record on the clipboard, and he cleared his throat and met your eyes.

“So, how are you feeling today?"

"Good. Just a little nervous." You admitted.

"That's understandable." Doctor Strange said. "But I promise that I'll make this as comfortable as possible for you." You nodded.

“I just have to ask you some questions before we start. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” You replied. He looked back to his computer and pulled up a long form.

“Can you recall when your last menstrual period was?”

“Umm, about two weeks ago.”

“Normal bleeding?”

“It’s been pretty irregular since I had the implant inserted a couple of months ago. I’ve heard it might just be the hormones?” You fiddle with your thumbs.

“Most likely. The progesterone in Nexplanon often induces variations in the menstrual cycle. But we’ll assess and rule out any potential underlying concerns." A reassuring smile accompanied the explanation.

“Great.”

“Are you currently taking any medication or supplements?” 

“No medication, but I am taking some vitamin D supplements.” This earned a small chuckle from him as he typed. “That’s a good idea during this gloomy time.”

“Just trying anything to combat the seasonal depression.” you joked.

“Maybe I’ll give that a shot.” He smirked.

Doctor Strange continued asking you questions, delving into your medical history and current health. He diligently typed your answers into the computer.

Your eyes flickered down to his fingers with each keystroke. His hands were big and the pads of his fingertips were almost the size of the keys themselves. Your eyes roamed up to the prominent veins etched on his hands, and you wondered how they would might feel pressed against your skin-

“And, when was the last time you had sex?” This took you out of your trance. You choked on your breath, a bit startled by the question. You knew it was routine—a standard procedure at a sexual health clinic. Yet, discussing your sexual history with a stranger felt strangely awkward. It was the kind of conversation you'd normally have with your best friend, someone who knew every detail of your life.

“Oh, um, probably 4 months ago.” The thought of your ex boyfriend brought a bad taste to your mouth.

“Was it oral or vaginal?”

“Both.” You said shyly.

“Both.” He murmured under his breath.

“And was the oral sex female or male receiving?”

“Male.” Unfortunately for me.

“Was this with a partner or casual?” 

“A partner- well, a former partner.”

"I'm sorry to hear that," he expressed sympathy. You shrugged, shaking your head.

"No don’t be. It's actually a blessing, more time for other important things."

"Let me guess... Playing the piano and reading?" you quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes..? How did you—"

He pointed to your purse at your on the floor. "You've got a piano keychain on your purse, plus I’d recognize 1984 anywhere. Just putting two and two together."

"You're quite observant."

"It’s what makes me a good doctor," he responded, the trace of a smile lingering on his lips before he cleared his throat and shifted his attention back to the computer.

“So that’s all the questions. I’m just going to take your height, weight and blood pressure before we proceed with the exam. If you can stand on the scale for me.” He motioned over the scale in the corner of the room. After taking your weight, he showed you where to stand to take your height.

“If I can have you here..” He gently placed his hands on either side of your arms and subtly shifted you to the correct position. Standing close, he measured your height, his baritone voice murmuring softly as he read the numbers above your head. His demeanour, a blend of professionalism and subtle warmth, left an intriguing impression on you. Stepping back, he instructed you to take a seat for the blood pressure test.

You nodded and rolled your sleeve up, exposing one of your tattoos. He rolled his chair towards you, taking your arm and wrapping the blood pressure sleeve around your bicep, his eyes flickering down to your tattoo of a treble and bass clef in the shape of a heart.

"That's a lovely tattoo," he complimented with a smile. "Any special meaning?"

“I just love music.” you chuckled. “So much so I’m doing a masters in NYU in Music Theory.” 

“Impressive.” He commented. “I take it you’re quite skilled at playing instruments.”

“Piano mostly. I could probably make it with the violin and the French horn as I grew up playing those as well.” 

“Quite a range. I have a baby grand at home, though my duties as a doctor don't afford much playing time."

"You must play well. No one just has a baby grand in their home. Maybe you’re just as skilled as I am." you teased, earning a smirk.

"Observant, aren't you?"

"You’re rubbing off on me already," you quipped, realizing right after your unintended flirtation. Fortunately, the blood pressure machine's timely interruption spared you the potential embarrassment of Doctor Strange witnessing your flushed face.

"So- Before we proceed with the examination, let me outline the tests we'll be conducting today. We'll check for STIs like gonorrhoea or chlamydia, BV and thrush, HPV, and perform a pap smear and pelvic exam," he explained.

“Okay.” you replied.

Standing, he moved to the other side of the room, drawing back a yellow curtain to reveal an examination table. A crisp white paper sheet ran down its length, with stirrups at the end for leg support.

“So you’ll need to take everything off from the waist down, lie back on the table, and position yourself at the edge," he instructed, tearing off a piece of the sheet. "Here's a covering for you while you're on the table." You nodded, and as you approached the exam table, he closed the curtain to give you some privacy during the undressing process.

"I'll be back shortly with all the necessary supplies," he assured.

"Okay," You responded, and the door closed behind him as he exited the room.

You positioned yourself by the bed, swiftly removing your pants and underwear. Folding them neatly, you placed them on the chair next to the head of the exam table, subtly concealing your underwear beneath your pants.

As you lay back on the table, draping the paper sheet over the exposed lower half of your body, the realization hit you—this was really happening. Your gaze fixated on the light fixture above, and the door creaked open.

You could hear him on the other side of the curtain, likely organizing the tools needed for the examination.

"Just locking the door to ensure privacy during the exam," he informed.

"Okay." The prospect of being alone with him in a locked room, your lower half exposed, triggered a whirlwind of thoughts. It was probably all routine for him. You’re just another patient.

"All set up. Ready for me to pull back the curtain?" he asked.

“Yes, I’m ready.” He pulled back the curtain, looking down at you as you lay before him. Your eyes met his, and this made your thighs twitch a little. He sat down at the other end, between your legs and pulled the table holding all the supplies towards him. 

"Could you shift a bit more towards the edge?"

"Um, yeah, sure." You attempted to move, struggling a bit due to the stirrups.

“I know, I’m sorry, it can be quite difficult,” he reassured, aiding you by holding the stirrups in place, and his hand subtly grazed your inner calf. Eventually, you managed to shift forward enough for him to proceed.

“Now, I’m just going to lift the table up.” He informed you. The table started to move up until you were almost at eye level with him. You laid back, hearing him putting on latex gloves on his hands.

“Before we begin the exam. I’ll be examining the outside of your vagina to make sure that everything looks okay.” You nodded, and you started to feel your face heat up as he pulled back the paper covering you, exposing your vagina to him. You let out a soft exhale as you felt his warm, gloved fingers open and move your vulva to the side. Before you could think much of it, it was over.

“Everything looks good, now for the swab tests. Again, the first test will be the STI screening test, and I’ll be inserting a swab inside your vagina. Shouldn’t hurt, but please let me know if you feel any discomfort.” 

“Sure.” You nodded. You felt a thin object slide into your vagina with ease. He twisted the swab before removing it and placing it in a test tube.

“Next will be the internal exam, I’ll use the speculum to gently widen your vagina so then I can collect a small sample.” You nodded.

“Have you had an internal exam before?”

“No.”

“Would you like to see what it looks like before I start?” You nodded, and he held up the plastic instrument. It looked quite small initially before he started to open it, showing you how it works.

“This might cause some discomfort, so please don’t hesitate to tell me to stop.”

“Okay..” You breathed, laying back down on the table. Before you knew it, you felt the cold, lubed-up plastic tool sliding into your vagina. You took a sharp breath, and your thighs started to quiver. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. Just breathe.” he spoke in a in a soothing manner. You felt a hand on your inner thigh- like that was going to help you relax any more. Your thighs trembled under his touch, all a mix of nervousness, and discomfort and just a hint of arousal as you felt his thumb lightly caressing your inner thigh. You squeezed your eyes shut, lightly gripping the hem of your shirt, trying to focus on your breathing and not so much the discomfort the speculum was causing. 

“You’re doing well.” He spoke as he inserted the small brush to collect the sample from your cervix, then inserted cotton swabs for the other tests. 

“Just one more..”

The last swab test was done, and Doctor Strange closed the speculum and slid it out of you.

“How are you feeling?” You opened your eyes and nodded.

“I’m okay.”

“Would you like to take a break before I proceed with the pelvic exam?”

“I think I’m okay.”

“This shouldn’t cause much discomfort as the speculum, but I’ll be gentle.” He quickly changed out his gloves for a new pair and squirted some lube on his fingers. He placed a hand on your lower stomach before slowly inserting two fingers into you. Oh god- 

“Tell me if this is okay…”

It was more than fucking okay. Not having sex in 3 months was going to be the death of you.

“I-it’s okay.” you stuttered. His hand started to press into your stomach as his fingers moved in a circular motion, palpating the organs within. You felt a slight pressure, but it was not painful, more like a gentle exploration.

The examination continued, Doctor Strange’s movements were precise yet gentle. As if you were an instrument, he was expertly playing. His fingers were thick and felt amazing inside you. No one- not even your stupid past boyfriends had been able to make you feel like this during sex.

The feeling was getting almost overwhelming for you, and it caused you to roll your head back into the exam table and let out a soft moan. Oh fuck.

The silence was broken, with Doctor Strange clearing his throat and withdrawing his fingers from you.

“I-I am so sorry. I- I didn’t mean to do that. God-” You quickly covered yourself with the sheet in shame. You watch as Doctor Strange removed his gloves with a loud pop from the latex before tossing them into the trash. For a moment, he was silent, as if he was trying to assess the awkward situation you had put on him.

He stood up, quickly glancing over to the locked door, before turning his head back over to you, his eyes scanning your bare legs.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow at him, confused about what he had meant.

“You said you didn’t mean to do that- but why do I get the feeling you were..enjoying it?”

Your face burned, unable to answer his sudden questioning. You tried to deny it, although deep inside, you know his words to be true.

“The way you looked at me this whole time. The way your body has responded to my every touch. Not to mention how soaking wet you were when I put my fingers inside you. Surely you could feel your arousal dripping onto my table?”

He was now towering over you; his cold blue eyes were darkened with lust. 

“I’m sorry about the table.” You gave him an innocent look, which caused him to smirk.

“No, you’re not.”

He shed his coat, tossing it casually beside your neatly folded pants and underwear. Your eyes couldn't help but trace the contours of his arms sculpted with toned muscles, veins subtly weaving along their sides. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed, caught in a moment of silent admiration for this god-like man standing before you.

He walked back around to the edge of the table. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him from between your legs. He looked at you before pulling the curtain close and moving the exam table down a bit. 

“I just need a taste.” He groaned, then buried his head between your legs. 

“Oh fuck-” You breathed out, feeling his mouth envelop you. You let out a shaky breath as he found your clit a moved his tongue across it, softly playing with it with the tip of his tongue. He placed each hand on either side of your thigh to hold you open and keep your hips from moving while his mouth worked on you.

“Talk to me, sweetie.” He said before pushing his tongue inside you. 

“Oh my god..” You groaned, your eyes rolling back. You physically couldn’t speak, not properly, that is.

“Tell me how good this feels.”

“It-it feels so good, Doctor-” You managed to say. He pulled his face away from you for a moment, and you looked down at him, the bottom half of his face wet with your slick- which made him even more sexy.

With his fingers, he traced your slit slowly, watching you twitch every time his finger brushed against your clit. 

“Look at you.” He licked his lips as if he was a starved man. “Look how your body responds to me. No one has ever made you like this, have they? Not even your idiot ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to eat cunt.” You vigorously shook your head, wanting him to stop talking and continue where he had left off. You were close, and somehow you knew that he knew that.

“Please. I need more.” You moaned.

He carefully pushed his finger into you, his eyes never leaving yours. He added another finger, watching you carefully, and he curled his fingers up to caress your g-spot. He moved his fingers back and forth in this motion, finding arousal not only from your body but your reactions.

“I can see you’re close, sweetie. Don’t hesitate. Give me a taste of your sweet nectar.”

He leaned back in and found your clit easily- sucking hard then flicking his tongue against the small sensitive bud that immediately sent you over the edge. 

You let out a choked groan, hips buckling against his face as you came and flooded his mouth with your cum.

He removed his mouth from you, and you looked down at him, seeing your arousal drip from his chin. His mouth twitched up in a small smile as he stood. He grabbed the end of his shirt to remove it in one fell swoop. 

“No- wait.” you stopped him. His eyes quickly flicked with concern.

“Um...Can you leave it on..?” He gave you a look of confusion before understanding what you were asking of him.

“Are you saying you want me to fuck you with my scrubs on?”

You nodded shyly, wanting to fulfil the fantasy of fucking a Doctor.

He hid his wide smile and shook his head in disbelief. “Ohh, you dirty girl.” He pushed the waistband of his pants down to his mid-thigh, and you watched his cock, sprang up from out of his boxers. My God was he was thick. When you thought the speculum opened you up too wide, you wondered how his cock would feel stuffed inside you.

“Is this okay?” The lust from his eyes disappeared for a moment when he asked. You reassured him with a nod. 

“All I want is you right now, Doctor.” his eyes darkened once again, and he lined the thick head of his cock at your entrance, using some of your cum as lube. He put one hand on your knee and the other on the base of his cock to steady himself as he pushed inside you. You squeezed your breast as he moved slowly, inch by inch. 

“Shit-” He breathed once he was sheathed inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breathing shallowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked once again. 

“I-I’m fine. You’re just too big.” The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he was proud of his size. Who wouldn’t be?

He rubbed your lower stomach soothingly, saying, “Just breathe, relax your core for me.” You nodded, trying to relax until the pain started to transition into pleasure.

“Okay, you can start moving now.” He nodded. He pulled his hips back a little, watching his cock inch out of you before pushing himself back into your heat. He continued this slow, shallow pace until he could move in with ease.

“Fuck-” You allowed yourself a soft moan, letting your head roll back from his thrusts.

“God, you’re so tight I might actually cum.” He stilled, moving his hands across your legs and touching your skin. 

“I don’t mind.” You winked teasingly.

“And cut all of this short? I’ll fuck you all day if I could.” Your face warmed up at the idea. He rocked his hips back and forth, holding you by your legs to pull you into him. You gripped the sides of the examination table, letting out a guttural groan with his every thrust. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this much pleasure.

“I’m so close, Doctor.”

“Stephen. Call me Stephen.” 

“Cum with me, Stephen, please.” You begged, watching him fuck you in an animalistic nature.

“Oh, Y/N-” After a couple of thrusts, you felt his cock throb inside your walls at the same time, the pressure in your stomach began to roll over. Gripping your thighs tight, he thrust into you one more time as deep as he could, letting his cock pump his cum into you.

His head fell back as his orgasm coursed through him, wave after wave, until Stephen filled you up to the brim. You felt the slick of your combined arousal leak out of you, dripping down between your ass.

He ground his hips to keep his cum from spilling out completely. He looked up from where you two met, and you reciprocated his exhausted smile. Your eyes were glassy with tears from the intense orgasm that had left your body and thighs shaking. His chest heaved deeply with each intake of breath.

Whilst still inside you, Stephen carefully moved your legs from off the stirrups, placing them down on the tabletop carefully. He got on top of you carefully to hold you for just a moment.

He lifted his head to look at you, sweaty and dishevelled. He leaned down to give you a kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips, but it didn’t matter.

“We should do this again.” You broke the silence as he pulled his softening cock out of you. You groaned softly, suddenly feeling empty.

“Oh sweetie, give me at least 10 minutes before we start again.” He laid by your side with a deep groan.

“No, I mean in general, old man.” You teased. “I want to do this again sometime.” 

“Come over for dinner tonight, and I can show you more.” his lips curled into a teasing smile.

“Like your baby grand?” He let out a deep laugh. “Only if you promise to play something for me.”

“Fuck me good, and we’ll see.”

“Oh baby, there’s no doubt about that.” He smirked, pulling you into another deep kiss again. A thought popped into your head, and you pushed him back gently.

“By the way, was everything good..you know, down there?” He responded with a light-hearted chuckle to your unexpected inquiry and gave you a kiss on your temple. 

“Yes, you're perfectly healthy.”

[ironstrange1991]

Can't Live Without You

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is feeling lonely and doesn't know how to deal with his own feelings and needs.

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: SMUT: Male masturbation.

A/N: This is not my best work, but I am glad I'm finally able to post something. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;)

Stephen couldn't remember the last time he was completely alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum. Ever since the other Stephens arrived, he had gotten used to having them roaming within those walls, but both of them were out on different missions.

Defender went with Wong to Hong Kong's Sanctum and they would stay there for a few days and Supreme were in another planet with the Avengers. Wong not being in there  was the only reason he wasn't tormenting Stephen with the most boring tasks he could think of, but to be honest, Stephen was already missing his friend.

Christ, he really wasn't doing well to have gotten to the point where he missed Wong's nagging. In fact he was feeling alone. Lonely. That was the word he was trying to find to express the feeling he had been feeling in his chest all day. What a weird thing to feel.

He was missing you. You had gone on a work trip earlier in the week, but although you had promised to return in three days, it was Friday and he hadn’t had no sign of you other than the text admitting that you wouldn't be able to return before Monday.

He got angry when he read it. Not at you, but with the fact that somehow he was getting a taste of his own medicine: alone on a Friday night while you worked.

Of course he could come to you. Anywhere in the world, he could come to you, but he couldn't do it without you telling him you wanted so and every night you talked on the phone you didn't mention it. It wasn't like you suddenly forgot that your boyfriend could open a portal in your room to fuck you. No, Stephen was almost certain that you were using those days to distance yourself a little bit from him. Like a Stephen detox. After all, you had three of him and he admitted that they were not at all easy on you.

Stephen sighed, walking down the halls to the kitchen and took a good look in the fridge trying to find something to eat. There was leftover Chinese food he bought on Wednesday, two pieces of pizza he bought yesterday and some Tupperware with leftover food that he promised you he would get rid of and clean up, but he hadn't.

Shit, he was a terrible housekeeper.  It was pathetic, but it was true. Before you, he used to live of take-outs and the things that Wong cooked. Now he could barely imagine living the rest of the weekend like that. Obviously, he could try cooking. There were some half-finished things in the fridge, easy stuff, but he didn't want to risk setting the kitchen on fire, so he took the box of Chinese food and put it in the microwave to heat it up. While he waited, he took a piece of cold pizza and started eating while opening a bottle of beer.

He was starving and tired. He needed a good shower and a good night of sleep, but he hadn't been able to sleep well since you left. It wasn't a coincidence, you were the only person who could make him sleep when he was having one of his insomnia crisis. The methods you used were... how to say? Delicious.

He smiled to himself just at the thought of your nights together, then the microwave beeped  and he sat down to eat, but even that made him feel depressed. Stephen, who for many years lived alone and always thought it was great, now began to understand that he hated being left alone. He couldn't even conceive the idea of ​​living alone again.

He ate in complete silence and when he finished, he checked all the Sanctum seals and went up to his room. He crossed the room, getting rid of the boots he had worn all day and which were already making his feet hurt and took off the top of his robes,  took a pair of sweatpants from the closet drawer and headed to the bathroom.

The water was hot enough to burn his skin, but that was exactly how Stephen liked it. The fog fogging up the shower glass and enveloping the entire bathroom. Stephen let the hot water fall directly on his back and little by little he felt his tense muscles relaxing. He soaped himself quickly and washed his hair taking as long as he could and when he finished he wrapped a towel around his waist and dedicated himself to shaving. He was used to shave once every two days, goatee maintenance was a priority for him because he knew you loved it, it made him want to always make it perfect for you. In fact, as time went by, Stephen realized that everything he did was for you.

Finally, he threw himself on the bed feeling the tiredness of the day hitting him. He wanted to sleep, but he wasn't sleepy. That was one of the worst feelings in the world: being tired, but not being able to fall asleep. Usually you helped him in these situations, you made him sleep in your special way. God, he wanted you. He needed you.

He rolled over on the bed to reach the nightstand and threatened to take his sling ring, but stopped, scolding himself. Give her space, Stephen Strange. He thought, trying to convince himself, but the mere idea of ​​opening a portal in your hotel room made his body react instantly and Stephen sighed, realizing that maybe there was only one way to get through that hellish night without you: to handle the issue himself... thinking of you.

He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head allowing himself to run his hand down his abdomen imagining it was your hands reaching for his growing bulge. Stephen moaned softly with the contact of his hand on his cock even through the fabric of his pants. He was without a lay for five days. It was absurd to him, he couldn't imagine lasting another day without you and yet there he was being forced to resort to masturbation because you weren't there. It was unfair and cruel and he wanted to scream to the world that he didn't deserve to go through that, but deep down he knew he was being melodramatic.

When his hand went under his pants and his trembling hand made contact with his hard, sensitive member he closed his eyes immediately and your face was what he saw. You smiling sweetly at him. Stephen had an extra factor that made masturbation always intense: his photographic memory.  He could basically remember in great detail every moment you ever spent together, every touch, every kiss, every moan that came out of your mouth. It was all there in his head ready to be used like a movie whenever he needed it. And that night he needed it.

His cock pulsed in his hands the moment he closed his fingers around it. The tremor in his hand, previously a problem, was now an even greater stimulation that made jerking off more pleasurable.  Stephen had been working on it for some time. Hours and hours of physiotherapy to try to regain a minimum of strength in his hands that would allow him to pleasure himself without having to resort to magic. Of course, he would never admit that was the real motivation behind his decision to seek help after so many years. It wasn't significant enough to solve the problem, but it strengthened his nerves enough for him to gain the necessary autonomy.

Obviously he still preferred your hands. Oh god, your hands were magical. Much more magical than his. They were small and delicated and way they were soft and yet had a firm and insistent grip was enough to make him see stars.

"Fuck sweetheart..." Stephen moaned softly, moving his hands slowly up and down inside his pants. He didn't want it to end quickly. He was just working himself up, just letting his mind wander as he felt the sensation building inside him. His balls were full and sensitive. So much cum contained there. So much to give you, but you weren't there.

But if you were, he knew exactly how you would treat him. How you would get down on your knees and prop your body to show up your tits for him, how you would look him right in the eyes with that naughty face biting your bottom lip and then pull the hem of his pants to free his cock and how you would smile pleased seeing how hard he was for you.

You were so dirty, you loved sex as much as he did and he never needed to ask for a handjob or blowjob because you loved to give. You were perfect for him and he was irrevocably yours.

He moaned again finally releasing his cock and then conjured a bottle of lube in his left hand and poured some of the sticky liquid onto his cock and began to stroke himself slowly, but putting a little more firmness into the touch. In response his cock pulsed in his hand and his hips jumped up.

Oh you would love to see him doing it. You would praise him for it and would say how much you loved him and how much you adored seeing him pleasuring himself. You would call him Steph. Such a silly way of calling him, yet so sweet coming from your lips in your sweet voice. Stephen knew very well he loved everything you did.

He lolled his head back onto the pillow and bit his lip to hold back a loud groan.

Following the memories that played in his mind, he thought about how you always moaned while jerking him. How having his dick in your hands made you horny and how it always made him feel.

He thought about the way your lips curled into a shy smile every time he started talking dirty to you. How the grip of your hand got tighter, how you loved it. You were a dirty little thing. His dirty little thing.

Stephen let a louder moan echo through the room. You loved that too. The sounds he made when you held him in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock harder and faster. The tip was leaking precum and he was so ready to be inside you, but all he could do at that moment was think about it. And that's what he did.

He thought about how wet you always were when he touched you after you give him a handjob. How his fingers easily slid in and out of you and how you always squirmed around his fingers, begging for more. He thought about how you always begged for him. How you couldn't bear to wait, how you shamelessly opened your legs to welcome him in.

"Always so good to me." He murmured "My sweet girl is always so good to me."

Stephen started using his other hand to massage his balls too. It was how he liked you to do it. He liked to be stimulated as much as possible, he liked when you licked and sucked on his balls. He liked it dirty and messy and you knew exactly how to do it.

He knew you like no one else and he liked to think that even the other Stephens didn't know how to satisfy you like he did, but at the same time he liked to see them trying.

"Oh shit." Stephen was startled by that train of intrusive thoughts and increased the strength of his strokes as the room was invaded by the wet sound of his hands working on himself.  He thought about how he loved watching you get fucked by the other Stephens. It was no surprise, but the images that invaded his mind were of really intense moments and they almost threw him over the edge immediately, such was the strength they had as stimulation.

Stephen let out a breathy laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, but he did not try to change the thoughts in his mind, instead, he dwelled in those memories. How you always looked beautiful bouncing on top of Defender while you kept Supreme's cock in your mouth, and that bastard always fucked your mouth roughly and you loved it and Stephen loved the sound it made, the tears that ran down your eyes as they abused you.

Stephen thought about how he loved watching you get creampied. How delicious it was to see them emptying themselves inside you, to see you being violated by their release knowing that you would have to take one more.

His hands now punished his cock with a touch of violence and his mouth was half open, eyes squeezed shut as the images played in his mind.  He thought about the delicious feeling of fucking your pussy full of cum, how the wet squelching noise turned him on even more and how you always seemed gloriously spent after rounds and rounds with the three Stephens. It was pornographic, it was filthy and beautiful.

"F-Fuck yes." He moaned spurting his release all over his stomach and making a mess on himself. Still, he didn't stop, he kept bringing himself dangerously close to overstimulation as his mind focused on the expressions you made as your entire body writhed in ecstasy with your orgasm. How your cheeks would turn red when they were done and how sweetly you would smile at them. Almost innocent.

"Such a dirty girl." He muttered to himself, slowing down his hand until it came to a complete stop, but he didn't have time to recover as he was surprised by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"Shit." He grumbled, wiping his hands quickly on the sheet and making even more of a mess when he turned to pick up the device on the nightstand and felt his release running down the sides of his ribs.

It was your name on the display. In fact, the word Sweetheart.

"Hey, sweetheart." He answered, still trying to regulate his breathing, but of course you noticed.

"Hey. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to..." But you stopped for a moment and then asked, "Were you running?"

Stephen instinctively cleared his throat. "What? No. I was..." But he couldn't think of anything to say and there was a silence on the line and then a little giggle.

"What were you doing, Stephen?" You asked.

He sighed feeling his cheeks get hot from the fact that he had been caught. There was no point in lying.

"I... I missed you, Y/n."

There was an affectionate hum from your side of the line.

"Well, I called to ask if you'd like to come and meet me now. I'm missing you too, Steph."

He chuckled nervously. "I thought you would never ask. I thought you were enjoying having some time away from us."

You giggled, "Don't be silly. I was just really tired. But it's okay if you don't want to come now that you've solved your problem on your own. Maybe you would prefer to go to sleep…"

But he was already getting up.

"Now who's being silly?" He ran to the bathroom and quickly cleaned himself up and went back to the bedroom to get his sling ring. "Remind me again what hotel are you in?"

"At the Plaza." You responded promptly. "I told you yesterday and I thought..."

But you stopped talking when the portal opened in your room and he walked through it, heading towards you and taking you in his arms in an intense kiss.

"I missed you. So badly." He confessed on your lips, letting his forehead rest on yours. You smiled, looking surprised by his confession and cupped his cheek. "It's only been five days, Stephen. You've already spent three weeks on a mission."

He shook his head, "It's horrible. Staying at home. Without you.

He confessed to which you smirked.

"Now you know how I feel."

"I'm very sorry." He said pulling you back into his lips.

...

Stephen was staring up at the ornate ceiling of your hotel room with a smile plastered on his face. Making love to you had that effect on him. His arm was extended so you were cuddled close to him, your head resting on his chest, moving slowly as he breathed. The two of you were silent, still enjoying the afterglow of your release and his heart was finally at peace. Outside you could hear the sporadic sound of cars passing on the street and conversations in the hallway.

"The sound insulation in this place is horrible. How have you been able to sleep here?" He asked breaking the silence and you hummed, apparently still unable to form a sentence.

"Your boss could have paid for a better hotel." He continued and you shrugged.

"I liked it here. The room service is great and the food too."

Stephen smiled to himself. You were always so satisfied with everything. You never complained about anything. Totally the opposite of him.

"Besides, I'm always so tired when I get here that I fall asleep as soon as I put my head on the pillow."

He nodded, stroking your cheek and was silent for a moment, just a minute, but long enough for you to tilt your head to look at him.

"What is it?"

"I think I made a discovery this week and it was kind of scary." He said already knowing he would regret what he was about to say.

You smiled convinced as if you already knew what he was going to say. "Did you find out you can't live without me?"

He chuckled "I already knew that. I just realized the obvious and it wasn't pleasant."

You frowned trying to understand what else it could be then.

"I don't think I can live alone anymore. Before, when I worked at the hospital, I liked the silence of my apartment, but this week the empty Sanctum filled me with horror to the point that I missed Defender and Supreme."

You smiled glancing at him "That's something I never imagined you would say."

"I never imagined I would feel this way, sweetheart. The truth is, I like them. I can talk to them in a way that I don't talk to anyone else."

"It might have something to do with the fact that they are you” You reminded him.

"You are right."

You brought your hand up to his chin scratching his goatee. "How are things at home? No problem, I imagine. No demonic entity has tried to take over our washing machine?"

Stephen giggled "No. All boringly normal."

"What a shame!" You said, feigning disappointment.

Stephen smiled to himself and lifted your chin enough for him to kiss your lips.

"I love you, sweetheart. With each passing day I love you more. You changed my life for the better and changed me in the process. I'm definitely a better man because of you."

You sighed softly, your throat bobbing. "Oh I love when you say these things to me, Steph."

He smiled, pinching your cheek provocatively. "I may not be Defender, but I know how to be romantic sometimes."

“Of course you do.” You smile "And I love you too. With all my heart."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[duvetfawn]

A Warm Welcome

- Masterlist

INTRODUCTION: After a long day, you come home to find Benedict Cumberbatch in the kitchen, cooking dinner with an endearing mix of focus and charm. What begins as playful banter quickly ignites into something far more intimate, as Benedict willingly surrenders himself to your control. In a sensual evening filled with vulnerability and passion, the two of you explore trust, desire, and the balance of power, leaving no boundary of connection or devotion untouched.

PAIRING: sub!Benedict Cumberbatch x fem!dom!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, mdni, oral sex (reader receiving), dirty talk, penetrative sex.

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Hello people! Thanks for all the reblogs and likes! I'm so happy my work is getting recognition. This one was a request from my best friend (thank you Bianca for assigning me this!) Please keep in mind the reader is dominant here and it might not be for everyone. Again thank you so much! Sorry about grammar mistakes if there are any.

The smell of garlic and fresh herbs greeted you the moment you stepped through the door, an immediate comfort after a long day. The familiar warmth of the flat wrapped around you like an embrace, but it was the figure in the kitchen that truly caught your attention. Benedict, clad in a loose gray sweater and dark jeans, stood by the stove, focused entirely on the task before him. His curls were slightly disheveled, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with flour—a telltale sign he’d been kneading something earlier.

“You’re home,” he said, glancing up with that soft smile that never failed to make your heart flutter. His voice, deep and soothing, held a note of relief, as if the day had been incomplete until you’d walked through the door.

“And you’re cooking,” you replied, shrugging off your coat. “Should I be worried?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and shook his head. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite capable in the kitchen. You might even be impressed.”

You leaned against the doorway, watching him move. There was an ease in the way he handled himself, his gestures deliberate and precise yet unhurried. The sight of him like this—at home, relaxed, and completely unguarded—was one you cherished more than you could put into words.

“What are you making?” you asked, crossing the room to peek over his shoulder.

“Something simple,” he said, gesturing to a pan where butter sizzled and garlic caramelized. “Pasta with a cream sauce, a bit of basil, and, if I don’t burn it, chicken.”

You hummed in approval, standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him. He turned his head slightly, and your eyes met. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence thick with unspoken tension. His gaze lingered on your lips before darting back up to meet your eyes, a flush creeping up his neck.

“Something on your mind?” you teased, your voice low and playful.

Benedict swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t look away. “Only that you’re distracting,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You reached out, running a finger along the edge of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch. “And what are you going to do about it?” you asked, tilting your head.

His breath hitched, but instead of answering, he turned off the stove and set the spoon down. The clatter of metal against the counter seemed louder than it was, a sharp contrast to the electric silence between you. Slowly, deliberately, he faced you, his hands coming to rest lightly on your hips.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips curved into a smile as you leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips that quickly turned heated. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, matching your own.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” you murmured against his lips, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He nodded, his breath warm against your cheek. “Can you blame me?” he asked, his tone somewhere between exasperation and adoration. “You make it impossible to focus.”

“Good,” you said, pushing him gently but firmly until his back hit the counter. 

You pressed against him, the edge of the counter digging into his back as you deepened the kiss. His lips parted beneath yours, and you took full advantage, your tongue brushing against his, eliciting a soft, breathy sound from him. His hands gripped your hips tighter, as if trying to anchor himself to you, but you could feel the way his body softened under your touch, surrendering.

“Turn around,” you whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.

He blinked at you, his expression somewhere between surprise and intrigue, but he complied, twisting to face the counter. His breath hitched as your arms slid around his waist from behind, your palms pressing against his abdomen. Slowly, you ran your hands upward, savoring the feel of his body beneath the soft fabric of his sweater.

“You’re far too tense for someone who’s been cooking dinner,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

A shiver ran through him, and he let out a shaky laugh. “Well, you’re not exactly helping me relax.”

“Oh, but I plan to,” you said, your voice teasing as your fingers dipped lower, tracing the waistband of his jeans.

His head fell back slightly, exposing the long line of his neck, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. You pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his ear, then another, letting your teeth graze his skin lightly. The quiet groan that escaped him sent a thrill through you, and you felt his grip tighten on the edge of the counter.

“You like that,” you said, not a question but a statement.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Too much, maybe.”

You smiled against his skin, then tugged gently on his sweater. “Off.”

He turned his head to glance at you, his eyes dark with anticipation. There was no hesitation as he pulled the sweater over his head, leaving his chest bare. You took a moment to admire him, the defined lines of his shoulders and torso, the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

“Beautiful,” you said, running your hands over his back. His skin was warm to the touch, and he let out a quiet sigh as your nails lightly scraped down his spine. “You’re so good at following instructions.”

He turned his head slightly, a smirk playing at his lips despite the flush on his cheeks. “So you want to take the lead, huh?”

Your response was immediate and firm. “You’re mine tonight. All of you. Understand?”

His eyes flickered with something that looked like both surrender and excitement. “Yes,” he said softly. Then, louder, “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned, your dominance only spurring you further. With a gentle but firm push, you turned him back toward you and nudged him toward the center of the kitchen. His movements were fluid but obedient, and it thrilled you to see the normally commanding actor so completely at your mercy.

You guided him backward until his legs hit the dining chair that sat in the corner of the kitchen. With a light push on his shoulders, you eased him down into the seat. Benedict looked up at you, his hair tousled, his lips slightly swollen from your earlier kisses. There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—composed yet unraveling, his sharp, angular features softened by the heat of the moment.

“Stay there,” you said firmly, your voice low and commanding.

He obeyed, his hands resting on his thighs, his gaze fixed on you as if you were the only thing in the world. You could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers twitched, like he was holding back the urge to reach for you. You stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, letting him feel the weight of your presence.

“You’ve been so good for me,” you murmured, leaning down until your faces were inches apart. Your fingers brushed along his jawline, tracing the sharp angles, then tilted his chin up slightly. “Do you want to keep being good for me, Benedict?”

His breath caught, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Whatever you want.”

You smiled, your thumb running over his bottom lip. “Good,” you said.

Your hands slid to his shoulders, and with a gentle but insistent push, you guided him lower, until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you. The sight of him like this—on his knees, looking up at you with such raw desire—made your breath hitch. He rested his hands on your thighs, waiting, watching, his lips slightly parted as if he were ready to speak but unsure of what to say.

“Do you want me?” you asked, your voice softer now but no less commanding.

“Always,” he replied without hesitation, the sincerity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You reached for his hand, guiding it to the waistband of your trousers. “Then show me.”

His fingers worked quickly, yet carefully, undoing the button and sliding the fabric down your legs. He hesitated for a moment, his hands lingering at the edge of your underwear, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, silently asking for permission.

“Go on,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands slipped beneath the fabric, and you let out a quiet sigh as his fingers brushed your skin. He took his time, easing the fabric down and letting it pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, and he moved closer, his hands settling on your hips.

“Smother me,” he said, his voice low and breathless. “Let me make you feel good.”

The rawness in his tone sent a surge of heat through you, and you obliged, lowering yourself onto the chair and spreading your legs just enough to give him access. His hands slid along your thighs, his touch reverent yet possessive, and then his lips followed, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

When his mouth finally reached you, you couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped. He was slow at first, deliberate, his tongue moving in gentle strokes that built a steady rhythm. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he worked, and the sounds he made—soft, muffled groans of pleasure—only heightened your own.

“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just like that.”

He responded with a hum of approval, the vibrations sending a jolt through you. His tongue dipped lower, exploring, teasing, and you felt your grip on his hair tighten. You rocked your hips against him, chasing the pressure, and he moaned, the sound guttural and desperate.

“You like this, don’t you?” you said, your voice unsteady but laced with authority. “You like being on your knees for me.”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. “I love it,” he said, his voice rough. “I love making you feel this way.”

“Then don’t stop,” you commanded.

Your fingers tightened in Benedict’s hair as his tongue moved with unrelenting precision, each flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His hands, strong yet trembling slightly with need, gripped your thighs to keep you steady as he worked, his desperation to please you palpable in every movement.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice breathy and commanding. “Just like that. You’re so good for me, Benedict.”

At your praise, he groaned against you, the vibration pulling another moan from your lips. You could feel the heat rising in you, your body tightening with every expert movement of his tongue. The way he looked up at you—his pupils blown wide with desire, his cheeks flushed—only added to the fire coursing through you.

“You’re mine,” you said, your voice growing steadier as your dominance took over. “Do you understand?”

He nodded against you, his nose brushing your sensitive skin as he mumbled, “Yes. Yours. Always.”

Your hips rolled against his mouth, and his grip on your thighs tightened in response, his enthusiasm only growing. The sounds he made—half-growls, half-muffled whimpers—filled the room, mixing with your own gasps and sighs. You tugged at his hair, guiding him exactly where you wanted, and he obeyed without hesitation, his submission utterly complete.

“That’s it,” you whispered, your thighs beginning to shake as the tension inside you reached its peak. “Don’t stop, Benedict. Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. If anything, he pushed harder, his tongue working you with even more fervor, his hands grounding you as your body tensed. When the climax hit, it was overwhelming, your head falling back, your lips parting as you cried out. Benedict didn’t let up, riding out every wave of your release until you were trembling beneath his touch.

Finally, you tugged at his hair gently, pulling him back. He looked up at you, his lips glistening, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The expression on his face was one of pure adoration mixed with raw hunger.

“You’re perfect,” you said, cupping his face in your hands and brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back to yours. “Anything for you,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “Anything you want.”

You smirked, pulling him to his feet. His knees wobbled slightly, and you steadied him, your hands running up his chest.

With one hand, you reached for the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down with practiced ease. His breath hitched as you pushed the denim down his hips, leaving him standing before you in nothing but his boxer briefs. You took a moment to admire him—the way his body seemed to tremble with anticipation, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Off,” you commanded, gesturing to the last remaining barrier between you.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, before obeying. As the fabric fell to the floor, you stepped closer, your hands sliding over his bare skin. He shivered beneath your touch, his body responding to every little movement, every brush of your fingertips.

“You’ve been so good for me tonight,” you said, guiding him toward the table. “Now, let me reward you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes locked on yours as you pushed him gently onto his back. His body stretched out beneath you, vulnerable yet undeniably beautiful. You climbed onto the table, straddling him, and leaned down until your lips were a breath away from his.

“Are you ready?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

“For you?” he said, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Always.”

You lowered yourself over him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed your body, reverent and desperate, fingers pressing into your skin as though grounding himself in this moment. The table creaked softly beneath you, but neither of you paid it any mind. His breath came in short gasps as you broke the kiss, moving your lips down his jawline and to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

“Benedict,” you whispered, your voice firm but dripping with affection. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

“Good,” you said, sitting up slightly to remove the last of your clothing. His gaze swept over you, his lips parting as he drank in the sight of you. His fingers twitched against your thighs, and you smirked, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“Hands above your head,” you commanded softly but firmly. “I want to see how obedient you can be.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—not reluctance, but anticipation—and then he complied, stretching his arms above him and gripping the edge of the table. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his vulnerability making him all the more enticing.

“You look so beautiful like this,” you said, your hands gliding down his chest, fingers grazing over his taut muscles. His breath hitched as your touch lingered on his stomach before trailing lower. “Do you have any idea how much I love seeing you give in to me?”

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking slightly as he replied, “Tell me. Show me.”

You smiled, shifting your hips until you were poised over him, your body brushing against his in the most tantalizing way. His head tipped back, a soft groan escaping his lips as you rolled your hips slowly, teasing him with just enough pressure to drive him mad but not enough to give him what he craved.

“You want more, don’t you?” you teased, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Yes,” he breathed, his hands tightening on the table. “Please, I—”

“Patience,” you interrupted, leaning down to kiss his throat, your teeth grazing his skin. “I decide when and how you get what you want.”

His entire body tensed beneath you, and you felt a surge of satisfaction at the way he responded so readily to your control. You shifted again, this time taking him fully, and the sharp intake of breath that followed was music to your ears. His hands twitched against the edge of the table, and you could see the strain in his arms as he fought to keep them in place.

“Good,” you praised, moving slowly, deliberately. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His response was a choked moan, his head falling back against the wood as his body surrendered completely. You set a steady rhythm, your movements calculated to draw out every ounce of pleasure, every sound that escaped his lips. His hips bucked slightly, a silent plea for more, but you held firm, maintaining your control.

“Tell me what you need,” you said, your tone both commanding and affectionate.

“You,��� he gasped, his voice raw. “Everything. All of you. Please.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Then take it.”

The night unfolded in a dance of give and take, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. You pushed him to his limits, and he gave you everything, his submission a gift that left you both breathless and utterly sated by the time the evening drew to a close. As you lay tangled together afterward, the warmth of his body against yours, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that moments like this were yours to cherish.

“Still think I’m distracting?” you asked, your voice light with teasing.

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Always,” he said. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[annesthaeticc]

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

[geeky-politics-46]

Am I getting the urge to write a last-minute Valentine's story for our OG Stephen? Yes. Yes I am.

Or should i do it for Sinister Strange?

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 19: Spirit

Contents | Prev Part | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) A year and a half has passed and Ellis has moved on, but the universe never seems to let her forget her past.

Word Count: 8.3K (It's another hefty one lol oops)

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, alcohol consumption, smut incl: penetrative sex, 'quickie', rough, no aftercare. Readers must be 18+

The world never stops turning, no matter how unfair it may seem. We crash our cars yet the radio still plays, traffic lights keep changing as we sit in the wreck, red then amber then green, and back again. Daffodils bloom as dreams wilt away, and the sky still glitters with fireworks at the end of the worst year of someone's life. We are passengers on a train with no stops, and the options are limited; embrace the journey or get dragged along behind it. 

Eighteen months had passed since you'd let the light back in. A year and a half of laughter and growth, of new friends and milestones. Granted, you still couldn't drive. Still had terrible posture and a knack for saying the wrong things. But those that loved you didn't care, and you were finding it easier to love yourself because of that. 

You were four hours from home, sitting in the passenger seat of Rav's car as he drove you through the most quaint, scenic town you'd ever seen. It was like an illustration; thatched roofs and Tudor cladding, ivy on brick and winding cobblestone lanes. There was a milkman driving a float in front of you, an old lady setting up tables outside a café as a policeman strolled down the street, smiling and waving at passers by. 

You turned to Rav. "Did you ever watch Midsomer Murders?" 

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, smirking like he knew what you were about to say.

"This place is just too idillic," you said. "Feels like Jessica Fletcher's somewhere investigating a suspicious death." 

"That was Murder She Wrote." 

"Oh. Well, still..." 

He laughed, craning his head to see around the milk float in front. "Fucking hell, first the tractor, now this." 

"It looks like he's going that way." 

"Woohoo!" he cheered, speeding up as the float turned the corner.

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Lewis Hamilton, slow down." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, for a second there it sounded like you were criticising my driving. You, Ellis Weiss, the woman whose name alone strikes fear into the hearts of driving instructors everywhere." 

You hit him on the arm.

He laughed, before squinting to read the road sign ahead. "I'm not seeing any directions for this place yet, are you?" 

"No. And I still don't have any signal so I can't Google Maps it. Why don't you pull over and we can ask someone for directions?" 

He gave a reluctant hum and kept driving. 

"Rav, just pull over and ask." 

"Hang on a second, let me see-"

"Why are men so opposed to getting directions?" 

"I'm not opposed, I just-" 

You reached a dead end. He rolled to a stop as you glared at him. 

"Y'know what, it's fine," he said facetiously. "Who needs marriage anyway? This isn't the 1920's, we're a progressive society."

You laughed. "May I remind you, you were the one who proposed."

He pressed his mouth into a straight line, jokingly rolling his eyes before turning the car around and driving back the way you came. 

You drove a little while longer, finally spotting a spire in the distance; the tall, stone point peeking over a row of houses.

"Is that the one?" asked Rav.

"I think it is." 

He got closer, turning onto the street where a large church stood proudly at the bottom. Perfectly kept grass bordered the beautiful stone building, winding paths and an elaborate sign near the entrance. 

"St Joseph's," Rav read. "Yeah, this is it. Thank fuck for that." 

He pulled into the carpark and you felt a strange wave of discomfort ripple through your stomach. It didn't seem to matter how many churches you visited, how much time passed; the memories were like a scar, healed but never fully gone. 

You climbed out into the cool, spring breeze, drying your sweaty palms on your trousers. 

"Here we go, church number three," said Rav. "Third time's a charm, right?"

"Well this isn't falling apart like the last one, so we're off to a good start," you replied.

You walked together down a long path, climbing the steps and pushing through the doors into the foyer. It smelled musky, smoky; frankincense and myrrh, wood and incense, rose and beeswax. There was a man pinning signs to a noticeboard, his back to you as he whistled happily to himself. 

"Excuse me," said Rav. "Are you the priest?"

The man turned. "Hm? Oh no, I'm just a volunteer." 

"Oh sorry. We were hoping we might be able to talk to the priest about possibly having a wedding here. I don't know if you might be able to... Erm..." 

"Ah, well I think he's in his office. I'll go and grab him for you." He smiled kindly. "You can come in and have a look around if you like? I'll only be a minute." 

"That's great, thank you." 

The man hurried away, disappearing through a nearby door that led to a long corridor. You walked with Rav, tentatively stepping into the chapel and looking around at the bright, vast space. 

He turned to you with an excited grin. "This is nice, isn't it." 

"It is," you said, looking up at the windows, the artwork on the walls. 

"Look." He walked down the aisle, pointing to the pews either side of him as he went. "Flowers here, right?" 

You nodded, watching as he jogged the rest of the way to stand at the altar. 

He held his hands out, gesturing to the space around him. "Yeah, this is nice. I can picture myself standing here. What do you think? Is the aisle long enough? Quick, Ellis, go there and walk down, see if you can picture it." 

You laughed and waved your hand at him, wandering over to a display of flowers instead, touching the petals gently to see if they were real and leaning forward to smell them. 

"Hi there, sorry to keep you," a voice echoed through the chapel. 

It sent a chill down your spine; the deep, rich tone seeping straight into your bones. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening in shock as the priest walked right past you, the sight of him leaving you frozen, staring at him as he met Rav in the middle of the aisle and reached for a handshake. 

There was a moment where you thought you were imagining it. The tall frame, dark curls and pale skin nothing more than a ghost, a mirage, a sign you needed to get some sleep. Then he introduced himself, I'm Father Benedict, and you knew he was real.

"Rav, nice to meet you." He gestured over to you. "And this is Ellis." 

He turned to look at you; his smile lines melting, lips parting in a stunned silence that seemed to last an eternity. But it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before he cleared his throat, forcing a smile and making his way over to you.

"H-hi..." he said breathlessly, reaching out his hand. "Nice to meet you." 

You glanced down at his trembling fingers, conceding after a moment with a weak handshake. 

Rav began to talk, but his voice was nothing more than a muffled buzz in your ears. Your eyes glazed over, losing focus as Father Benedict walked back over to him.

"Yeah, I apologise for showing up like this," Rav said. "I know it's a shot in the dark that you'll have an opening at such short notice. But the church we were supposed to be having the wedding at burned down." He laughed in disbelief. "Like literally burned down to the ground. Talk about a bad omen." 

Father Benedict chuckled. But the sound was shallow, half-hearted, his eyes flitting over to you every few moments. 

"Yeah I can- I can have a look. What's er, what's the date you're after?" he asked. "I'll check my... erm... my... calendar- book- diary. Diary, that's the word." 

"June..." Rav hesitated, looking over at you.

"Seventh," you said. 

"Seventh, right." 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Okay," Father Benedict nodded. "Okay, let me just go and erm... Have a- Let me check." 

He walked out of the chapel, and it felt like you'd been holding your breath the entire time. You blew out a soft, shaking exhale as Rav walked over to you. 

"He's alright, isn't he," he said. "Better than the priest this morning who kept staring at your tits."  

"What? No, I liked him. Made me feel wanted." 

"Fuck off," he laughed, immediately covering his mouth in regret. 

You gave a weak smile. 

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a bit... I don't know." 

"No I'm... It's just... I think I might be getting a cold or something. Bit headache-y." 

He gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

Father Benedict returned, his eyes focusing immediately on Rav's hand on your shoulder. He fell silent for a moment before snapping out of it, shaking his head and looking down at the diary in his hands.

"S-sorry, could you just remind me of the date you wanted again?" 

Rav nodded. "It's June..." 

"Seventh," you said again.

"Okay, right, er..." Father Benedict cleared his throat, flicking through the pages. "So I do already have a wedding on the seventh. But Friday the sixth is open, or if you really want a Saturday, the following week is a possibility; the fourteenth?"

Rav looked at you, then down at the ground as he thought about it. "Yeah, no either of those should work. We know the owners of the venue so we should be able to swap the dates around. Could I... Can we get back to you?" 

"Yes, yes no problem." He closed the diary. "I er, I have somewhere to be, shortly, but if you want to come back tomorrow morning, we could sit and go through everything. Usually we'd need six months notice but, with the... fire and what not, I'm sure we can work something out; squeeze in your preparation, Saturday day, talk about costs and everything." 

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." Rav looked at you, as though seeking approval. 

You gave another weak smile.

"No problem," Father Benedict replied, glancing at you again. 

You began walking towards the exit, and you couldn't quite believe that was it; a quick conversation, a handshake, a 'nice to meet you' as though you were nothing but strangers. You weren't sure what the alternative would have been; a hug, tears, a blazing row? Perhaps it was best to leave it like this, to run without another word, just like he'd done to you. 

But all of a sudden, there was a rush of white noise above you, growing louder until it was deafening. You looked up at the ceiling in confusion, then over to the windows as rain began to stream down the glass. 

"Oh my god," you muttered. 

"You can't say that in a church," said Rav. 

You groaned. "We parked so far away." 

"Tell you what, you wait here and I'll go and get the car. I'll drive it right up to the door."

"What? No it's fine. It's just rain-" 

"Don't be stupid. Wait there, I'll be two seconds."

He ran off before you could protest any further. You huffed and crossed your arms, hovering in the archway between the chapel and the foyer. You could hear Father Benedict moving around behind you, but you refused to turn around, as though not looking at him meant he wasn't actually there. 

You felt like a stroppy child, balled up, head turned, teeth clenched. When he first left, you'd have done anything to see him again, to hear his voice, smell his aftershave. But there was something painful about finally knowing where he'd been; knowing that for eighteen months he'd been just four hours away, starting anew like you were just an old VHS he could tape right over.

"Ellis...?" he said softly, tentatively. 

You exhaled through your nose and turned slowly, looking up at him with a heavy brow and glassy eyes. 

"Hi," he breathed, like he didn't know what else to say. 

"Hi," you replied bluntly, turning away again. 

He paused for a while, but you could hear him getting closer, feet shuffling tentatively across the floor. "H... How are you?"

You turned back and glared up at him in disbelief.

He sighed, dropping his head. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't," you interrupted. "Just don't." 

He seemed reluctant to give in, standing there staring down at you, anxiously biting his lip as he deliberated with himself. But finally, he yielded, turning in defeat and beginning to walk away. 

You watched him leave, your breath quickening, lungs bubbling with anger and confusion, sadness and grief. 

"You just... Left," you blurted out. 

He stopped, turning back to look at you. "I know." 

"No word, no explanation. You just..." You struggled to find the words, eyes darting around the chapel as they welled with tears, before finally giving up. "Why?" you whispered.

He took a long pause, head stooped. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, forcing himself to look back up at you. "Because I was falling in love with you," he said simply, his voice nothing more than a breath.

You stared at him, the blue of his eyes so vibrant against the red in his waterline. 

"And..." he continued, taking a step towards you. "I know without a doubt that if I'd stayed, I would have just continued to fall more in love with you. And I would have loved you... more than... anything. More than..." He gestured to the church around you before shaking his head, his lip quivering. "I couldn't. I just- I couldn't..." 

"I wouldn't have ever asked you to." 

"I know that. But it wouldn't have stopped it from happening."

You pressed your mouth into a straight line, sniffing sharply and steadying your voice. "I was falling in love with you too." 

He nodded, like he already knew. 

You swallowed the urge to cry, taking a deep breath and shrugging. "Well there you go. What can you do."

He dropped his head, closing his eyes like your words hurt. 

You turned away, leaning against the frame of the archway as you waited for the beep of a car horn. 

"You're going to make a beautiful bride, Ellis," he said solemnly.

Your stomach tightened. Then you looked at him again. "I'm not the bride." 

His brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Bridesmaid," you said, pointing to yourself. 

"Oh..." he whispered. 

"Rav's fiancé had a dress fitting so she couldn't make it. Asked me to come with him instead because she didn't trust him to find a new church on his own." 

He exhaled a shaking breath, the corner of his mouth twitching with a relieved smile. "So you're- So you're not... Seeing anyone?" 

You shook your head. "No one's been worthy of me yet..." 

He gave a subtle smile, but your face remained stony. 

There was a loud beep and you turned to see Rav's car waiting near the door. You glanced back over your shoulder. "Good to see you, Father."

You rushed outside without waiting for a reply. The rain was warm, falling so hard it hurt as it pelted your skin. You tried to keep your breaths even as you hurried towards the car, a painful lump lodged in your throat. 

"Ellis! Ellis, hold on!"

You stopped at the passenger door, turning to see Father Benedict running down the church steps after you. He halted at the bottom, chest heaving, eyes wide. 

You stared at him, waiting for him to speak. 

"I..." he stammered. "I felt the urge to chase you but I didn't actually think through what I'd say once I got here..."

You blinked at him.

"D-do... Do you- could we maybe talk? I've got some work this afternoon but-" He pointed to a pub across the road. "We could get a drink, maybe? This evening? If you're not busy...?" 

You looked at the pub, then back to him.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, wiping the rain out of his eyes. "But if you could give me... an hour of your time..." 

You sighed and shook your head. "Yeah," you finally said. "Yeah, okay."

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding with a slight smile. "Okay. Okay, erm... I can be over there for eight?" 

"Okay." 

"Okay."

You pulled the handle and got into the car, slicking your wet hair back with your hands. 

"What was that about?" asked Rav. 

"Oh, nothing, he erm... he just needed me to remind him of the dates again." 

He began to drive and you sat in silence, shocked, shivering. The church grew smaller in the wing mirror until you could no longer see it all, the rain easing, a double rainbow emerging in the sky above you. 

Rav glanced over at you. "Are you alright?" 

You nodded, staring out of the window, the quaint town looking entirely different to you now. 

The Poplar and Dove. Why did pubs always have such odd names? What did trees and birds have to do with beer, fruit machines and sticky carpets? 

You stood under the awning of the pub, wringing your hands nervously as you waited for 8pm to come. You'd gotten there earlier than you'd meant to, and though you could have just gone inside, you couldn't bring yourself to seem eager. 

You wished you'd packed nicer clothes than the t-shirt, long denim skirt and trainers you were wearing. But as a man stumbled out onto the street in oil-covered overalls and work boots, you almost felt overdressed.

It was 8:01 when you finally drew in a deep, anxious breath and went inside, the smell of beer hitting you like a boozy cloud as you pushed through the doors. It was quieter than you'd expected; a low hum of conversation as a television played quietly above the bar, an old song drifting from a jukebox in the corner. You slipped through a group of men, their hands and faces smattered with motor oil like the one you'd seen outside.

You tried to not make it obvious you were looking around, standing at the bar as you scanned the room quickly. What if he didn't come? What if he'd changed his mind at the last minute and stood you up? You'd have no one to blame but yourself; already dreading telling your sister you'd agreed to this at all.

"Ellis!"

You turned to see him in the corner, pointing to a drink on the table in front of him and waving you over. You couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, pushing through another group of people to get to him. 

"Rum and Coke," he said as you sat down opposite him. "I hope that's still...?" 

"Yeah, yes. That's great. Thanks." You hooked your bag onto the back of the chair and took a sip - the rum was spiced, your favourite kind. 

He was even more beautiful than you remembered, and it annoyed you greatly. His casual shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he clasped his long fingers together in front of him. His curls were fluffy, falling slightly over his brow and framing his eyes. 

Those eyes. God. You took an extra sip of your drink. 

"Thank you for showing up," he said.

You gave a halfhearted smile.

"I know I don't deserve it..." 

There was a lull; an awkward pause as you both shifted in your seats. There'd never been an uncomfortable silence between you before. Even in the moments no one spoke, it was always pleasant, content. 

"So, what's it like around here?" you asked. 

His eyes rounded for a moment, like he was taken aback, not expecting you to make small talk. You weren't expecting yourself to make small talk either. 

"It's, er, It's- Nice," he said. "The parish is a lot bigger, so more work. But the town itself is... It's quiet." 

You nodded. 

"Why did your friends choose it for their wedding?" he asked.

"Camilla - the bride - grew up here." 

"No way," he laughed softly. "How did you meet her?" 

"Through a work thing. And Rav's my downstairs neighbour. I introduced them." 

"Ah, so you're basically Cupid." 

"I expect they'll be naming their first born Ellis," you said, unable to resist a smile. 

You'd planned to walk into that pub with fire in your belly, venom on your tongue. You'd gone over the things you wanted to say in the shower, practiced arguing with him in the mirror as you got ready. Yet there was something about him, like a sedative, that made it impossible to do anything but talk. 

"So Camilla's a photographer?" he asked between sips of his drink. "Editor?" 

"Oh, erm, no. I don't work at the studio anymore," you replied. "I'm a freelance book cover designer now; met her at a publishing thing." 

He smiled proudly. "You always wanted to do that." 

"I did." 

"Congratulations." 

"Thanks." you said shyly, bringing the glass to your lips. 

"Is that a tattoo?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." You lifted the sleeve of your t-shirt to reveal a small, fine ink design on the inside of your upper arm. 

He leaned forward slightly, squinting to look at it more closely. 

"Why?" you asked. "Is it like... A cardinal sin or something?"

"No, I just couldn't see what it was." He laughed and relaxed back into his seat. "I like it." 

"Thanks. I've got another one as well, but if I tried to show you that we'd probably get kicked out." 

There was a subtle glint in his eye, making you realise what you'd said.

"I didn't mean for that to sound so..." You shook your head. "Sorry."

He chuckled quietly. "There's a guy in my congregation; biggest, buffest guy you've ever seen. Bald head, covered, and I mean covered in tattoos. And when I tell you he is the sweetest, gentlest most devoutly catholic man I've ever met, it's incredible."

"I bet he gives really good hugs."

"Oh absolutely."

You clinked your nails against the side of your glass, filling another awkward silence, letting the last of the nervous energy out through your fingertips. 

"How's your sister?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, she's good," you replied. "She actually just had another baby."

"She did? Oh that's wonderful." 

"Mhm, a few months ago. Another girl." 

"What's her name?" 

You glared at him, pressing your lips together reluctantly. 

"Oh come on, it can't possibly be more out there than Soleil," he laughed.

"Eulalie." 

"You-lay-what?" 

You giggled. "Eulalie. It's French as well, apparently." 

"Well, they certainly love a unique name, don't they." 

"I know. I'm going to have to call my kid Keith or something, just to restore the balance." 

"Ah, little baby Keith." 

You lifted your glass, speaking before taking another sip. "What's the worst name you've ever baptised?" 

"I'm sure we've had this exact conversation before." 

"I don't think so." 

"We have. The woman with the twins?" 

You shook your head, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to think back. 

"I definitely told you. Don't you remember? We were lying in bed one night and..." he faltered suddenly, losing his train of thought and pressing his fingers to his mouth to disguise it. 

You wondered if the memory of you in his bed was too painful, or perhaps it was just embarrassing, an uncomfortable reminder of how close you once were. 

"Were they called something like Paco and Rabanne?" you asked. 

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing again. "Dolce and Gabbana." 

"That's it. Yes, I do remember. Those poor children." 

He smiled before shifting in his seat, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and pulling out his wallet and keys. He placed the keys on the table and opened the wallet, sifting for money.

"Are you still driving the old car?" you asked, gesturing to the keys.

"Nope." He grinned. "And this new bad boy I've got has - get this - a working passenger door and air-con that actually blows cold air."

You gave a sarcastic, impressed whistle. "Living the dream." 

"I know. It's funny, when I bought it my first thought was 'Ellis would love this'."

"Why?" 

"Because it's an automatic so you wouldn't be able to stall it." 

You rolled your eyes. "Well actually, I have my license now, and I drive a Lamborghini, so..." 

"Really?" 

"Obviously not." 

"Fuck sake." He burst into laughter. "Do you want another drink?" 

You looked down at your rum and coke, surprised to see how much you'd already drank. You promised yourself you'd only stay for one. Yet there you were, nodding and watching him walk up to the bar to buy you another. 

It was hard to connect him to the man who'd left you broken and confused eighteen months ago. Hard to accept that as he laughed at your jokes and asked about your family, there was a part of him that was capable of such carelessness and cruelty. 

"Here you go," he said, placing a new drink in front of you.

You looked down at it for a moment, then up to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" 

His face softened, the smile he'd sat down with falling away. 

"Come on, you knew I was going to ask at some point." You shrugged.

He remained quiet, rubbing his mouth in deliberation. "I..." He inhaled through his nose, letting it out again slowly. "I didn't decide to leave until that last night. I know that doesn't make it any better, but I swear to you it wasn't some big, thought-out departure I'd planned ages in advance. I just... I got scared." 

"Scared of what?" 

He paused. "There was a moment that night when we were sitting together; I told you there was nowhere else I'd rather be than with you. And suddenly it dawned on me; Fuck, I am falling in love with this woman. I've made a vow of clerical celibacy, a vow to devote myself to the church and to God and to put that before anything else in my life. Yet here I am, wanting to be nowhere else but with her..."

You stayed quiet, watching him fidget with his hands as he spoke. 

"I knew then that I couldn't stay." He lowered his voice. "So I did the terribly selfish thing of giving myself one last night with you. I made love to you, I kissed you before I left the next morning, and I suppose in a way I convinced myself that that was the goodbye." 

You swallowed. "If I hadn't randomly turned up here today, you'd have let me live the rest of my life not knowing any of that..." 

"I know. And trust me, Ellis, not a day has gone by where I haven't hated myself for it. But the way I would have loved you.... I have no doubt it would've eclipsed everything." He tilted his head to catch your gaze with his own. "I had to get away." 

You wrapped your hands around the glass in front of you, straightening your spine and clearing your throat. His words were like whiskey; his confession a painful burn, the truth a soothing warmth. Your only fault had been that you were loved, and you couldn't help but wonder how much easier it would have been to know that; perhaps you wouldn't have spent so long sitting alone in the dark. 

"Do you not think I deserved to know that?" you asked.

"Of course. But would it have made it any easier?" 

"Well... I'm not sure there's any easy of way of hearing someone say they'd rather be celibate than with you."

He shook his head, chewing his lip to hold back a smirk. "That's not fair." 

"I have a year and a half of pent up anger inside me. Let me make jokes." 

"Fair enough." 

You scanned his face, finishing off your first drink before moving swiftly to the second. "Are you happy with the decision you made?" 

He opened his mouth to speak when a sudden, roaring cheer erupted through the pub. You looked over your shoulder, watching the group of men celebrating a goal on TV. They bounced around, throwing their arms around each other as lager splashed over the rims of their glasses.

When you turned back to Father Benedict, he was smiling at them, laughing softly as he watched their roistering from across the room. But there was something melancholic about his expression; no lines in his cheeks, no crinkle between his brows or at the corners of his eyes. 

He returned his attention to you, realising you'd been watching him. "Not as happy as that," he said. 

You exhaled a laugh. 

"Ellis, I... I can't tell you how many times I've thought about what I'd say to you if I ever saw you again. The truth of the matter is, I don't know. I don't know if I'm dedicating my life to a God that doesn't exist. I don't know if any of it's real, I have no proof. But I really fucking hope it is. And what I do know is that I chose to become a priest because it allows me to help people, and inspire and encourage and share that hope with them, every single day." He paused. "I just never predicted I'd meet you."

You picked up your glass, swirling the ice around, making the liquid bubble and fizz. Then you sighed, meeting his gaze again. "I get it," you said. "I do, I get it. One of us would always have had to give up a part of themselves to be with the other. Either you would've had to leave clergy, or I'd have had to concede to being someone's secret lover for the rest of my life. And let's face it, neither of us would've expected that of the other." 

He looked sad, brows curved upwards over glistening eyes.

"Right person, wrong... everything else." You shrugged. "Our paths just crossed too late." 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving you. 

"I just hope you know that the collar you wear isn't what makes you a good person," you said. "You gave me hope when I really needed it. And that had nothing to do with God or church or sermons... It was you." 

He smiled, before dropping his head and clearing his throat. "You're being far more gracious to me than I deserve." 

"I know."

The TV above the bar was muted, the jukebox switched off. A strong smell of lemon disinfectant drifted through the air as a barmaid pushed around a mop bucket, another collecting glasses and wiping down surfaces. There was no one left, the lights raised to full brightness, chairs stacked on tables around you like the battlement walls of a castle. 

You'd talked through the end of the football match, through the noise of drunken punters and the bell for last orders. You'd talked as the crowds dwindled away, as the sky turned black beyond the windows and your glasses emptied to dregs of melted ice. 

It was like no time had passed since he left. You'd never understood that expression before; how could absence not change things? How could a river erode with time and water still flow the same way? But you got it now. With every joke he laughed at, every facial expression he understood and insignificant detail he remembered, it was clear your bond had never severed. It had just been frozen, lying in wait until something came to thaw it out. 

He was covering his face as you spoke, shoulders shaking as he laughed into his hands. 

"It's true!" you said. "They called the police and everything." 

"They did not call the police!" His laugh grew heartier, tears forming in his eyes.

"They did! I had to sit and explain to two uniformed officers that I hadn't meant to walk out of the shop with the coat on."

"Why were you even wearing it?" 

"I tried it on as a joke because it was so fucking ugly. Then Soleil decided to turn into Usain bloody Bolt and run outside at full speed into the busy street." 

A tear spilled onto his cheek. He wiped it away, still chuckling to himself. 

"I told Mara she was nuts for trusting me with her child," you said.

"Maybe next time try a soft play centre or a park, y'know, instead of a high end clothing shop." 

"Well you just have all the answers, don't you." 

He smiled, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Just giving you some advice so you don't go losing Keith in a Selfridges one day." 

You laughed. "Keith will be kept on one of those baby leashes until he's eighteen." 

You could feel a hair on the side of your nose, rubbing your finger over it a few times. He began speaking, but you couldn't concentrate, the itch on your skin too distracting. You tried to wipe it away again. 

"Because then I went-" He stopped. "What's the matter?" 

"There's something on my face, it's driving me mad." 

He sat forward, gesturing for you to lean over the table to him. You did as he instructed, watching as he brought his face close to yours, examining the side of your nose for a moment before seeming to lose focus, his eyes softening as they trailed slowly from your eyes to your lips then back again. 

"Father," you said. "I'm going to say something you used to say to me all the time." 

"What's that?" 

"You need to stop looking at me like that..." 

He dropped his head and breathed out a laugh. "I apologise," he said, gently pressing the tip of his finger to the side of your nose, holding it up to show you a small black wisp. "Eyelash." 

"Thanks," you replied, sitting back down. 

"You know you can just call me Ben, by the way," he said. 

"I know, but, I don't-" You shrugged shyly. "I only ever really called you that when we were..." 

"Ah." 

"Yeah..." 

"Excuse me, guys," said one of the barmaids as she approached your table. "We're going to be locking up in a few minutes." 

Father Benedict glanced around the deserted pub, the wet floors and stacked chairs. "Oh, god, sorry. We didn't even realise-"

"It's okay," she replied kindly. "You looked like you were having a nice time, we didn't want to disturb you." 

"Thank you, we'll get out of your way." 

You stood up, grabbing your bag and hooking it over your shoulder as Father Benedict lifted his chair onto the table, making his way around to yours and doing the same. The women behind the bar smiled appreciatively as one of them unlocked the door to let you out. You almost felt embarrassed that you'd let yourself get so carried away, talking so far past closing time, your conversation the only sound inside the empty pub. 

You stepped out into the dark, chilly night, light rain falling in a mist that glittered under the streetlights. You crossed your arms over your chest to hide your nipples, suddenly very aware of how thin your t-shirt was. The street was quiet, the church nothing but a dark, imposing silhouette on the other side of the road. 

"Where are you staying?" asked Father Benedict. "I only had a couple of drinks so I can drive you wherever you need to go." 

"Oh, no, don't worry. My Airbnb's not far from here so I'm just going to walk." 

He furrowed his brow. "They have Airbnbs around here?" 

You laughed. "Yeah, it's just a little cottage, nothing fancy."

"Well I'll walk you." 

"Are you sure? You really don't have to." 

"Of course I'm sure, come on." 

You walked most of the way in silence, your impending separation like a thick cloud in the air between you. Were you to simply say goodbye? No hard feelings? See you in June for the wedding?

The cobbled roads glistened like oil in the gentle rain, the houses quiet, as though the entire town had gone to sleep. You kept your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes straight ahead. When the road was on your left, he would walk on your left, and when it was on the right, he would move again, always keeping you on the inside despite there not being a single car. 

You pointed to a row of small terraced cottages at the bottom of a steep lane. "That's me down there." 

"Which one?" 

"Hanging baskets, right at the end." 

"Wow, you weren't joking when you said it was small." 

You exhaled a short laugh. "It's all I need. Only staying two nights." 

When you arrived at the cottage, you stopped at the gate, placing a hand on it and turning to look up at him. 

"Well this was... weird," you said.

"Very," he replied. "But also really great." 

"Yeah." You paused. "Thank you for the drinks, and for walking me home." 

He smiled, but the expression quickly grew forlorn as he stared down at you. You kept your hand on the gate as you waited for him to speak, a part of you willing yourself to just go inside, while another needed to know what he was thinking.

"What?" you asked. "Do I have another eyelash on my face?" 

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "I've missed you," he said, his voice almost a whisper. 

You sighed. "You can't say that." 

"Why?" 

"Because it's not fair. You've known where to find me... This whole time, you've known exactly where..." Your voice trailed off. 

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "I told you why I couldn't come back-"

"And I said I understand. I do. But you made a choice. So you... You don't get to tell me you've missed me." You remained gentle, calm. "You can't act like something's been keeping us apart when the thing keeping us apart is you." 

"The thing keeping us apart is my vow."

"And so go and live by your vow, Father. Go and live your pious, solitary life. I am truly sorry I ever jeopardised that for you." 

He scoffed slightly. "There's no need to be sarcastic." 

"Wh-? I'm not. I'm really not." You pulled the gate shut again, turning to face him fully. "But surely you understand how much it hurts to know you see loving me and worshipping God as some kind of contradiction?" 

"I see loving you as the most easy thing I could've ever done." His voice was harsh yet quiet, frustration laced in a whisper. "But choosing to leave the clergy, to break the promises I made when I was ordained; that would've been the consequence of it."

"And I've already told you I wouldn't have expected you to do that. I understand your decision-"

"But you don't, Ellis. Not if you can stand there and tell me I don't get to say I miss you." 

You slowed your breathing, calming yourself before looking up at him. "If you truly missed me, it wouldn't have taken me randomly turning up here today for you to realise it." 

"I didn't have to realise it, because it's never not been the case." He took a step closer, speaking with more passion, intensity in his eyes. "Not a single day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. Where I haven't questioned if I made the right decision. You asked me earlier if I was happy with the choice I made, and the truth is... I don't know. Because my resolve has wavered so much more over the past eighteen months than it ever did before I left."

"And what changes now that I know that?" you replied. "Nothing. You're still going to go back to that church and I'm still going to go home on Friday. Alone."

"I don't- I don't know, I just... When I saw you there today in my church, there were ten or so minutes where I really, honestly thought you were marrying someone else," he shook his head. "And I wasn't happy for you, Ellis. I was... devastated." 

"And when you realised I was actually single, how did you feel then?" 

He blinked a few times, brows coming together, forming a crinkle at the bridge of his nose. "I felt..." 

"You felt...?" 

"Ellis you know that's not fair to ask-"

"But everything you've said to me in the last five minutes is fair?" 

You were getting angry now. The rage you'd planned to unload on him in the pub bubbling in the base of your chest. He ran away from you. Tore you apart and left you strewn across the rectory flowerbed in pieces. Now you'd finally bloomed again, and here he was, plucking at your petals. 

"Do you know what, I don't want to do this anymore," you said as you opened the gate and stepped through. "I knew meeting you tonight was a bad idea."

"Because I told you I've missed you?" he called out behind you.

You stopped and spun around. "Because everything you're saying is for your own benefit, not mine! To- to- to make yourself feel better, to unload how you feel onto me even though you know it doesn't change your decision." 

"So what would you prefer I do, Ellis? Not say anything? Walk you home and leave without another word?" 

"I'd prefer you to just fuck off," you snapped, taking in a sharp breath, stunned by your own words.

"You want me to fuck off..." he replied in dry disbelief, taking a few steps down the path towards you.

"Yes. Fuck off. Go away." Your voice quivered. You waved your hand at him dismissively and walked to the front door. "Just... Let me forget about you."

You fished through your bag with shaking hands, finding the key and struggling to push it into the lock. His eyes were on you, you could feel them, like a hand around the back of your neck. You unlocked the door and pushed it open before looking over your shoulder at him. 

"There's a reason you haven't walked away yet," you said, stepping into the cottage and turning around, placing your hand on the door and preparing to close it. "You want permission. You want to hear me ask you to choose me. But that's never going to happen. I have too much respect for myself to ever do that." 

You took a step back and swung the door shut, but there was a hard thump as it hit something on the other side, stopping it from fully closing. You pulled it back to see him standing there, palm planted against it, foot halfway over the threshold. His chest was heaving, nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. 

You stared up at him, unable to resist giving an insolent shrug, a brattish shake of your head. It seemed to annoy him even more, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

"Wh-"

He interrupted you with a sudden kiss, his hand gripping the back of your head as his lips pressed firmly against yours. You lost yourself for a moment, swept away in the passion of the unexpected rush. Your mouth began to move in time with his, hot breath and sweeping tongues, but then you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and gently pushing him away. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to quell the anger rising up your throat, before glaring at him through your lashes. His face was still close, lips parted, eyes glassy. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn't; any sense of logic you possessed clouded by impulse. 

You gave in, letting your body take over, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a fevered, forceful kiss. He curled his fingers into your hair, holding it in fistfuls as you stumbled back into the cottage. You slammed the front door, grabbing him by the shirt as you moved in a mess of teeth and tongues, fingernails and clumsy missteps through the small, open living space. 

Your backside made contact with a dining table first. He gripped your hips and lifted you onto it as you continued to kiss with unwavering ferocity. You began pulling at your skirt, working impatiently to drag the heavy, stiff material up your legs as he used one hand to unbutton his trousers, the other helping to push the skirt over your thighs. His breaths were heavy, laboured, pouring into your open mouth as he freed himself from his underwear, like he'd been aching, desperate for release. 

You reached down and slid your fingers into your underwear, the thin cotton so wet it gave little resistance as you moved it to one side, parting your legs wider to let him stand between them. His lips broke away from yours, just long enough to spit into his hand, coating the head of his cock before sweeping you back into another kiss.

He slid the tip along the seam of your pussy, using his hand to guide it inside you. You gasped at the stretch, the dull burn and intense pressure. You'd only slept with a couple of people since he'd been gone; a one night stand, and a short-lived fling that fizzled out after a few dates. Neither of them matched up to him. Not in size, nor skill. So much so that you'd almost convinced yourself he wasn't as good as you remembered. 

You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he sank his full length into you, the walls of your pussy moulding to the shape of him, softening, lubricating to welcome the intrusion. His throat rumbled with a groan, a hum falling from his lips as he kissed you, fucking you with a hard, steady rhythm. You whimpered into his mouth, sliding your hands down to grip his backside, encouraging him to thrust harder, deeper. He planted a palm on the table beside you to steady himself, pressing his chest against yours as he moved with more force, each snap of his hips sending a jolt through your core, making the table rock and creak beneath you. 

Your mind was blank, clouded and hazy as your body welled with pleasure; a tingling in your clit and a deep, intense pulsing in your core. You were going to be swollen after this, bruised, sensitive. But you didn't care; there was an anger inside you that you had to extinguish, and with each slam of his body against yours, you were getting closer to putting it out. 

Your body began to tense and tighten, each slide of his cock met with a growing resistance, making him breathe quickly as he worked harder to maintain his thrusts. Your thighs came together, squeezing his hips as waves of electricity began to thrash in your pelvis. He growled and grabbed your legs, forcing them apart again, and you let out a heavy moan as he sank deeper, hitting the spots that sent you floating on the precipice between pleasure and pain. 

Your back arched, and with another brush of his cock, you fell apart. He hid his face in the crook of your neck as he buried himself completely, giving in to his own orgasm as you came around him. You were shaking, your bottom lip chattering like you'd been caught in a blizzard. Every time he shifted or twitched, the echoes of your climax would ring through you, making you shudder, goosebumps pricking your arms. 

The room was suddenly so quiet in the clarity, only the rushing of your breaths and the pulse pounding in your ears filling the silence. He lifted his head and carefully pulled out of you, your centre immediately feeling tender and raw in his absence. You glanced up at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye, and you suddenly felt nauseous. 

You slid off the edge of the table onto your feet, readjusting your underwear and pulling your skirt back down. He stayed beside you, buttoning his trousers as he kept his head down, staring at the table and pensively biting his lip. You looked at him again, and when he finally looked back, you knew; the same remorseful expression you'd seen so many times before. A face full of regret, shame, disappointment in his own lack of restraint. You sighed and shook your head, walking off into the next room, trying to ignore your shaking legs and the lump in your throat. 

You stood in the small sitting room, looking out the window into the dark back garden. You felt a tear fall down your cheek, the droplet tickling your skin as it clung to the edge of your jaw. Your lip wobbled, but you bit it to keep it still, sniffing sharply.

"Ellis...?" His voice was so soft and gentle, his footsteps light as he entered the room behind you. 

"Just go, Ben," you replied weakly, too numb to even try to turn around. 

He paused at the sound of his name on your lips. Then he took another few tentative steps towards you. 

"Please, just..." You sighed. "You... broke me. Not just when you left, but every time you treated me like a mistake." 

"You're not a mistake. You were never a mistake." 

"Was that a mistake?" You turned around, nodding towards the other room. 

He hesitated. 

"Exactly," you said. "Getting over you was the hardest thing I have ever done. And all it took was one day for me to end up right back where I started." 

"It wasn't a mistake," he whispered. "I just... I suppose I wish I'd been more... forbearing. Made it mean something, y'know. I don't regret what just happened. I regret the way it happened." 

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to cry. But another single tear betrayed you. 

"Please don't cry," he said softly. "I can't- I never wanted to-" He sighed, walking over and wrapping his arms around you. 

You resisted at first, but you quickly yielded, letting your head fall on his chest, your arms tucked in the space between your bodies. He cradled you in his large embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I love you, Ellis." 

You closed your eyes, his words stinging as much they soothed. 

"Right person, wrong everything else," he said. 

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