#stephen glass prompt

[hanasnx]

your friend stephen glass comes to you and tells you that he saw your bf cheating on you. ofc you're devastated and you kick your bf to the curb. but he wasn't cheating on you - stephen just couldn't take the thought of you being with someone else. it's not hard for him to slide into your ex's place, after all, you need post-breakup comfort

i gatekept this message mei mei. this was all mine. i periodically go back into my inbox to look at it and you sent it back in january. i love it when people make stephen a liar in fanfic just like he is in the movie. he gives a fuck about getting caught and ruining his chances with you, but he cannot fucking stand seeing you with that guy. so he takes matters into his own hands. and when you’re crying on the couch having just broken up with your boyfriend—who’s confused as hell, denying everything—stephen leaves you to answer the door. your boyfriend standing there, ready to invade your apartment until stephen steps in the way. he’s determined to make sure he’s not caught in his lie, and sends your ex away because “she doesn’t wanna see you, man. just walk away.”

you’re actually grateful to him for handling it for you. and he strokes your back while your head is tucked under his cheek, sniffling. you’re so distraught and thankful—much to his delight—that he actually gets his dick wet out of it. he protested at first to be polite, but he let you unbuckle his belt and ride him on that couch. the first taste of new dick you’ve had in years.

[cerene-ciderr]

For Day 14 of the Doctor Strange Appreciation Event 

I’m a day late for this prompt oops

[rafesslxt]

1000 FOLLOWER SPECIAL ཐི♡ཋྀ

as a special I want to make this thing for you guys where you can choose prompts and a character and I write an one shot for you <3

[You don‘t have to be a follower]

Character‘s to choose from:

1. Slytherin Boys ( Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy )

2. Hayden Christensen Characters ( Sam Monroe, Stephen Glass, Anakin Skywalker, Scott Barringer )

3. Rafe Cameron

SEND ME REQUESTS WITH WANTED CHARACTER AND PROMPTS

Prompts: please don't forget to tell me the letter <3

choose what u want and some own ideas u want to have included, If not I‘ll think about something on my own 🫶🏻 oh and you can choose as many prompts as you want 🫣

for example: A 2. + D 6. + character

Update: please be a little patient cause I got a lot requests and I‘m gonna throw similar ones together, ty <3 And look at my new Upcoming/requests List bc maybe someone already requested something similar to what you want.

I‘m really thankful for every follower, every like, repost, comment and request. 🫶🏻 I would‘ve never thought that so many people enjoy my writings and it makes me really happy, emotional and thankful. Feel hugged from me. 🤍

xoxo sarah <3

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Sex Tape: (prompt list here)

(part two of these 'recording' headcanons)

- After the heart-warming success of his first accidental intimate recording with you, Stephen would find himself revisiting that tape over and over again. Any time you have to leave him for a weekend alone, out comes his little camcorder so he can eagerly relive that special night and try his best to make up for missing your touch that night.

- But as much as he loves that precious gift you left him, he can't help but want to make a new one, something you both create together and maybe even equally could enjoy together on another night. He wouldn't be able to ask out right though, instead he'll drop a dozen tiny hints, mostly about how much he loved that first tape, and how incredibly beautiful you look when he's making you feel good, and how much he loves you, and loves having that precious memory documented to relive over and over.

- You'd of course give in to his less than subtle suggestions pretty quickly, his response to your video just the sweetest thing you could have imagined, and feeling so safe with Steven that you don't have a single worry about that footage going anywhere, or looking less than perfect, or anything like that because you know that man respects and worships every cell of your being.

- You pick a date for your very special date night, picking out a new set of lingerie for the occasion (and because it's so fun to surprise Steven with something new and watch his little brain immediately melt down to a mumbling mess.) By the time you get to his flat there's more candles lit than in a cathedral, and he's spent a week's pay of a very special bottle of wine that you once got as a present and so generously shared with him, on a night you two passed giggling sweet nothings to each other.

- After a glass of that sweet thoughtful gesture you two find yourselves all hands again, so giddy with excitement as you stumble towards the bed that you almost forget to turn on the camera, Steven reluctantly pulling himself away from your lips just long enough to oh so kindly ask,

"Love, are you sure you're alright with this? We don't have to if you're worried at all, I'm just so grateful that I even have one video of you. Or that I get to do this with you at all." You cut him off before he can start monologuing about what a privilege it is to be in your life in any role, the lovestruck man staring at you with stars in his eyes, so in awe of everything about you.

- You suitably reassure him that you feel just as lucky to love him, and finally you start the camera filming, pulling him towards you until you're confident he's framed in the shot, slowly moving your lips to his neck. As you lick and kiss your way along his throat, drawing soft strangled sighs from the nervous boy, your fingers trace down his shirt and start pulling it at his buttons one by one, until finally you can push it off his shoulders and reveal his broad chest to you and the camera. You can't stop yourself from running your hands over his muscles, looking forward to rewatching this moment and stopping Steven from folding inwards or hiding himself from the camera. You can tell he's still up in his head a bit, not as passionately exploring your form like it holds the secrets to the universe the way he usually does.

- Trying to draw his focus, you tip him back on to bed and climb on top of him, pulling your dress over your head and giving him a full view of the special outfit you had on underneath. His jaw drops and his eyes practically shoot out of his head as he starts excitedly babbling about how 'truly perfect you look' and how 'every colour seems to have been made for you', and suddenly his stage fright is forgotten and he's pulling you back in for a kiss as his fingertips trace along the lacy fabric, before slipping underneath your panties and rubbing slow circles against your clit. You find your hips moving in time with his rhythm, the excitement of knowing Steven would be able to watch this moment again enough to heighten the sensations. As your temperature starts to rise and your thighs start to twitch you make a point to arch your back and gasp out his name for the camera, immediately earning a groan from Steven as he starts to buck against your hips.

- You pull his fingers out of you with a whimper, and make quick work of undoing his belt and sliding his pants down his legs until his manhood springs free, letting you take a long slow lick of him that has Steven panting and begging for more. As you slip your lingerie to the side, mounting his lap and hovering just above his leaking tip, you notice his eyes drift behind you, the red blinking light pulling him back to reality from his throws of passion.

- Less than pleased that Steven is able to look anywhere but up adoringly at you, you slam your hips down against his, taking his full length in one breath and clenching down on him at the deliciously full feeling of having him buried inside of you. Right on cue his turns his attention back to you, gazing up at you in shock as you cup his face in your hands and state very clearly in your most seductive pur,

"Now Steven, the least you can do is keep your eyes on me."

"I'm sorry love, I just remembered about the - but it doesn't matter, I promise, I only want to look at you." Taking mercy on him, you start to roll your hips, before you finish your negotiations,

"That's good to hear, because any time you look at that camera, I'm going to stop moving." You pause your riding in emphasis as his gaze turns pleading, nodding quickly and begging you to move, promising to be good as you go back to sliding your hips against him, drawing out louder and louder groans that start to fill the room around you. You watch as his eyes trace along your content face, your bouncing chest, your wiggling hips, and finally your glistening entrance where he can see himself glide in and out of you, your own excitement dripping onto him with each thrust. It's almost too much to take and he feels his climax quickly approaching, his fingers returning to strum against your clit as he tries to hold off his release. Then his eyes dart behind you for a split second and suddenly his building pleasure starts to drop as you still your hips, desperate apologies falling from his lips in a plea.

"I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to, please keep going, you feel so incredible..." His core is aching with the tension bubbling inside it, so close to release and having no choice but to let you sit there on his throbbing erection until you see fit to forgive him. Luckily for him it's very hard to act mad at those puppy dog eyes, and when his touch feels so good between your thighs you know you won't be able to hold off much longer either.

- "I just need you to keep those beautiful eyes on me okay Steven?" You sound merciful, and he lets out a sigh of relief, until you add "and definitely don't let them close."

He's about to ask what you mean when suddenly you start bouncing on him with every ounce of strength in your thighs, riding him faster and harder as you feel him start to tense beneath you. He keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours, mouth hanging open in sheer ecstasy as he watches the confident smile on your face start to fall into an o as you get closer and closer the edge. He works you with his fingers, holding back his own climax and praising you as you climb higher and higher, finally crying out his name as your wall clench around him, your whole body shaking with the overwhelming release as pleasure washed over you. Steven is right behind you, his hips lifting up off the bed as he erupts inside you, legs trembling and hands clutching at your waist, making sure you can't possibly climb off of him.

- You collapse against his chest, resolved to spending a little longer with him deep inside you, Steven's arms only coiling around you tighter as he presses soft kisses to your forehead and pants out that he loves you so bloody much.

- It takes a little while for either of you to get up to turn off the camera, Steven finally volunteering to leave the bed, only to grab the camera of its stand, step back towards you, aiming the lens at your satisfied face before letting it drift down your spent body, stopping when he sees his own load drip out of from between your legs and feeling himself start twitching with excitement again. The last sound the camera picks up is Steven mumbling quietly to himself, "how did I ever get this lucky?"

[superblysubpar]

return to main menu // steve’s music

Honey, On Your Knees

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Your husband and you get nasty in a church…again. // This fic is a part of my "Her Body Is Bible" AU - you can find the first story and more here // NSFW 18+

the song: Holy by King Princess

2.5k words

warnings: warnings from prev fic still apply // religious themes, and the holiday Christmas being celebrated // As with part one, you’ll be blocked - nobody is forcing you to read this // Mentions of trying to get pregnant // Alcohol mentions and use by reader // SMUT (oral - reader receiving, public, steve is kind of edging us a little if you squint) // My blog is 18+

A/N: originally requested for an event, I combined two requests from an anon and @djoswiftie - thanks for your patience 💛. The prompts were [APOLOGY: a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends] / [FLASH: one muse “accidentally” flashes the other] -- maybe not in the way you think FYI // [NECK: a kiss or gentle sucking on neck] / [PALM: one muse palms the other muse’s penis/breasts through clothes]

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

The house was warm, the low murmur of relatives catching up while silverware clinked together mixed with Nat King Cole crooning out of the stereo. Mashed potatoes heaped by spoonfuls onto plates, kids’ new toys scattered in a rush once the ham was carved, and soon wine started to be poured for those of age.

Vivian Harrington simply smiled as you told her none for you and moved on, but the same couldn’t be said for others at the table. 

“Not drinking, huh? Are you pregnant?” 

If his scotch drunk uncle jumped over the line of appropriate, Steve ignored it all together, replying hopefully and without thought. 

“No…not yet!”

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

Your eyes widened, jaw tensed as you huffed out a breath through your nose. Steve’s cheeks flushed, and the table erupted into chaos, terribly intimate questions directed towards you. 

“Oh! Are you trying?! How exciting!”

“When you are, make sure Stephen here does everything. It’s the least he can do.”

“How long have you been trying? Don’t give up, Ben and I took two years, but look at us now…”

“How many do you want?”

“Are you still going to work?”

“Kids? So soon?”

“Who’s having a baby? Uncle Steve?!”

“Vivian?” You called, flagging Steve’s mom over.

You took the bottle of previously passed on wine and gave yourself a more than generous pour, and Steve whispered, “Baby, I thought that alcohol could affect your…”

The look you gave him had his mouth closing quickly, keeping his concern about ovulation and hormones to himself. You turned away from him, then answered every single question with grace and a grip on the glass that made Steve gulp around his own drink. 

Eventually, the table settled into topics that gave you a small reprieve. 

Steve leaned closer, lips almost to the apple of your cheek and you turned, so his kiss was cut off, mouth parted in surprise as he blinked at you. He spoke softly, fingers reaching for yours as he did, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Should we give you two some privacy?” A quip and waggled eyebrows from the other side of the table, and you plastered on a perfect smile and faked a laugh, poured yourself more wine and Steve’s shoulders deflated. 

You still hadn’t spoken to him. Dinner passed, and then dessert, and then coats were being pushed on and kids wrangled into cars for the midnight service. 

Steve managed to get you close to him in the very backseat of one of the vehicles. He kept his eyes on your profile as you stared straight ahead. 

“Are you going to ignore me the entire night? I’m sorry,” he started, voice low. 

Your gaze turned to him finally and your chest ached from how apologetic he looked. And honestly, you were over it as quickly as it happened, and the glasses of wine helped, and you were ready to say so. But then Steve’s fingers brushed your knee, up and down and back up your thigh. They nudged at the hem of your skirt, testing. His other fingers curled around your neck, words dipping even lower, soft and for only your ears. 

“How else can I tell you I’m sorry, honey?”

Steve’s thumb swiped down your neck, soothing and far too close to your racing pulse. It’d been sort of easy for him lately, and the thrill of making him think you were mad, the chance to make him sweat a little, to work for it, had your underwear growing wet. 

“We can talk about it later, when we get home,” you whispered, sternly. 

Steve nodded earnestly, until your fingers curled into your skirt, until the red, green and gold fabric pulled higher and higher. Your eyes remained on his until he had to look down, to see your black tights were not tights, but stockings. A sliver of supple skin revealed between plaid skirt and where they ended high on your thigh. The black lace disappearing as quickly as it was shown to him as your skirt dropped again, fanning nicely over your thighs.  

His tongue swiped over his lip, adams apple bobbing. He cleared his throat, voice a warning, “Baby-”

The car pulled to a stop, and you were out on the pavement with his family, heading into the church before he’d really even caught his breath. 

He watched you hang your coat, and help his nieces and nephews with theirs. His eyes traveled from the black heels up the black stockings that he now knew ended under your pretty Christmas skirt, curved around your thighs delicately and sinfully. He swallowed at the sight of red velvet over your breasts, at the memory of what happened last time you were here. 

It was easy to slip away as churchgoers caught up over coffee and doughnuts before the service, as kids became preoccupied in the Sunday school rooms with toys. You made your way down a dark hallway under the guise of the bathroom, and had to bite down on your smile as an arm slunk around your waist and pulled you into a room silently and quickly. 

Only lit by the soft light of the navy sky and moon outside, the room was obviously rarely used, a place for mismatched and forgotten things. Steve spun to face you, his fingers behind him clicking the lock closed with a barely audible, but still noticeable click. 

“Yes?” You prompted, folding your arms over your chests and hiding your delight at the way the movement made his eyes flit down to your breasts. 

Steve crossed the room in quick strides, hands finding your hips and tugging you to him gently as he spoke with sincerity. 

“Angel,” his nose traced down the bridge of yours, before he kissed the tip of it, “I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips before he pulled away enough to look into your eyes again, so you could see how truly sorry he was. 

“I really didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out. I’m just so excited, and I didn’t even think…” 

“I know,” you offered quietly, as your fingers slipped into his hair, curling stray and unruly pieces behind his ears. Your eyes remained focused on your adjustments, sure that if you looked at his eyes for longer than two seconds, you’d forget you were “mad” and fuck him in a church again. You’d break and he’d have barely worked for it. 

Steve knew this, you think. 

Because your eyes caught the subtle twitch of his lips, the fake deep sigh, the way his head leaned forward until he was at your ear. Hot breath hitting skin in a way that had goosebumps exploding over your entire body, his voice sultry and low as he asked, “Can I make it up to you?”  

“Steve…” your half-hearted start to a protest you didn’t want to give lost as he dipped lower, pressing silk lips to your neck. 

His palms brushed over the curve of your breasts, they skated down your sides, lower and lower to your hips. As your head fell back, they circled to your ass, grabbing generous handfuls and squeezing as his breath grew sharper against your collarbone. Parted lips dragging across it, the tentative trail of his tongue warm and testing. 

“We…we’re in a church,” you gulped around the words, his kisses traveling up the column of your throat now as he nudged your feet backwards. 

“Didn’t stop us the last time.” Steve’s voice was shot, a goner the minute you showed him the stockings. 

Men were too easy. 

Your legs hit a couch arm, and Steve’s fingers grabbed for your jaw gently, thumb pulling at your chin so you had to look at him. Both of your chests moved rapidly, anticipating, as you fell deeper and deeper into the moss and honey in his iris’ - lost in the forest, stuck in the sticky trap. 

His other hand roamed to the hem of your skirt, pads of his fingers buzzing over the skin above the stockings as he pulled the fabric higher. His head cocked in a way that said he knew what he was doing, the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he knew that you weren’t mad, not really, but he’d play your game anyways.  

“Let me make you feel good, honey,” his lips brushed over yours as he spoke. The chatter of people filling the chapel right outside grew louder, but his voice remained even and soft, “It’s the least I can do, don't you think?”

Maybe you were easy too.  

Because you were nodding, and he was easing you down onto the couch. Steve knelt before you, watching you carefully, hungry, as he pulled your heels from your feet, letting them fall to the ground. 

Your palms pressed to the cushion behind you as he lifted a leg, your words swallowed and caught somewhere in your chest with your breath as he kissed your ankle bone through the thin material. Steve kept his eyes on you, warm and greedy as he kissed up your calf, at your knee until he was at the top of the thigh high. He gently laid your leg back down, and then pulled at your waist until you were at the edge of the seat. 

“You gonna be quiet for me?” 

The nod of your head was pitiful, putty in his hands and from his words as he flipped your skirt up. Steve’s lips pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, sweet and in a slow way that had heat rising to your cheeks. Your body hot, spine turning to liquid as he nudged his nose into the damp black silk covering you, as his fingers curled into the waistband. 

Steve pulled them from you, sighing at the way they stuck to your lips. He slipped them down your legs, never letting his eyes leave the space between your thighs. He was taking his time, drinking you in with his eyes in a dirty gaze that had your entire body tightening, making you want him more than you ever had, erasing any sort of rationality or thoughts from your brain other than him and this.

His fingers tugged at your hips, squeezing possessively until a whine bubbled out of you, his name a desperate whisper, barely audible over the choir singing. 

He hummed when you spread your legs wider for him, pressing against the couch as he leaned in. His hands roamed down and back up your thighs, until they were spreading you. 

His thumbs held you apart, mouth a ghost over your cunt. Hot breath exhaled against slick lips that had your toes curling and your lungs somehow forgetting how to take in air. He had you on the ledge, and he hadn’t even started. 

Steve pushed closer, the tip of his nose a slow drag through your slit, his lips skimming over your folds behind it, tasting, testing.

His tongue finally made contact with you, a long, slow lick from your entrance to just below your clit, making you wait, making your fingers dig into the cushion and your eyes look towards the heavens.  

Steve did it again, painfully slow, the hot and wet glide of his tongue along you sinful. Over and over, flat, broad strokes of it, tasting every bit of you except for your clit, getting you higher and higher, closer to bliss without giving it to you.  

You were throbbing, an insistent and buzzing pulse under your skin demanding to be felt, demanding to break. It felt like your ears were crackling with static like the speakers the pastor was now giving his sermon in. 

Steve lifted on your hips that wiggled, caressing over the top of your ass. He stopped his movement with his tongue, panting over your cunt, letting his mouth hover against your glistening lips. 

Your chest grew heavier with each rise and fall of labored breathing as you watched Steve’s tongue flick out, tracing the curves of you and letting his nose drag and nudge behind it. Teasing and taunting, pulling every last drop of want out, your body taut and ready to snap. 

Then he looked up at you.

His cheeks flushed pink, and pupils blown wide, lit up in glittering moonlight streaming in through old and warped glass, he looked like something holy and angelic between your thighs. As if he were worshiping you, praying on his knees at your feet.

The grip he had on your hips shifted, pushing down your thighs and spreading you wider, and his voice was raspy as he asked, “You forgive me?”

Your head nodded once, fingers reaching for his hair to pull him closer, desperate for his mouth to be back on you. Your own voice shot, a pitiful whine as you begged him, “Please, need your-ohmygod.”

Steve’s spit hit your clit, making your thighs go to snap close, but his palms held you open forcefully. He wasn’t an angel worshiping, he was unholy, he was sin, he was filthy as he kept eye contact with you and dipped his mouth over you again. 

His lips molded around your pulsing nerves, tongue flicking out in a rhythm that had your entire body lit up, vibrating, fraying and sparking. His hands pushed at your thighs that resisted him, he moaned against you as you fell forward. Your fingers yanking in his hair as your hips moved against his face. 

Steve’s exhale was sharp as he released, sinking lower and dragging his tongue over your slit again. He was faster now, keeping his tongue flat against you as he lapped at your cunt, nose nudging against your clit over and over again as you rocked against it. 

“Fuck, Ste-,” your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes widened, but Steve didn’t let up. You tugged on his hair, whimpering, and his hand rose, finger pulling at your pouting bottom lip until you were parting for him. You moaned around the black silk he shoved into your waiting mouth. 

He doubled down then, tongue prodding at your entrance, fast and precise licks up to your clit he kept working at with his nose. Steve’s heavy lidded gaze up at you had you crying out around the fabric, your chest crumpling over his head as you grinded down against his nose, unraveling for him. 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, skin hot as you came around nothing but his tongue, he hadn’t even slipped a finger into you. Steve held your waist now as you arched, letting your thighs finally close around his face as he licked over you, humming against your sensitive nerves as he greedily took in everything you gave him. 

He pulled away eventually, nose and lips skimming down your thigh until he was at your stockings. He pressed his cheek to your knee and looked up at you. Your underwear pulled from your mouth and crumpled in your fingers, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to keep your eyes open, chest rising and falling ragged. You looked at him under your straining eyelids, warmth and affection and something far too sweet for what you two just did behind your gaze. 

The choir was singing again, Silent Night, and your fingers pressed to your lips, hiding a smile and a giggle.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he was kind of glad he did. 

[bcyhoods]

lovefool — “you’re welcome to stay, if you want” w eddie!!

librarian!reader is always calling my name so i needed to do something before i combusted | 1.1k fem!reader

Eddie’s got his feet propped up on the study table and his chair teetering on its hind legs. The dull sound of his rings tapping the hardcover in his hands fills the immediate space. Despite the fact that he’s actually read this particular horror novel at least thrice before, today it only serves as bookworm-ish guise.

The boy aimlessly flicks through the pages, eyes reflexively leaping over entire paragraphs to peak over at the reception desk. With each glance, he feels his heart start racing, his stomach starts flipping. And it has nothing to do with Stephen King, everything to do with you.

You’re sitting behind the polished wood with a pair of deep auburn-colored reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. Every so often, they slide down and prompt you to scrunch the muscles in your face and wiggle them back up. Whenever you ultimately give up and push them back into place with your finger, Eddie smiles to himself.

The pair of you have spoken quite a handful of times, but it only took Eddie seconds within that first interaction to be smitten. You’d worn a pretty color on your lips, an even prettier smile behind it. Your eyes lit up upon seeing the tower of Tolkien novels he’d placed in front of you to check out, then you’d complimented his taste, then his hair. Then as if to seal the deal, you reached underneath the desk to retrieve a flimsy bookmark with a map of Middle Earth and placed it on top of the stack.

Now, he’s proud to be a frequent library-goer. Admittedly he feels a little silly about it, at first. But the flash of recognition that crosses your face before you wave at him makes him forget.

You float through the building, burning hot under his watchful eye, shutting off yellow desk lamps and bidding farewell to patrons with a sweet smile. The closer you get to him, the more the familiar aroma of cigarettes and his cologne seem to engulf you. It’s your turn now to have your heart beat erratically in your chest.

“Hi, Eddie.” Your saccharine voice cuts through the silence and has him immediately closing his book. He gazes up at you, big brown eyes boring right into yours. Like he knows you’re about to swat his feet, he grins and kicks his legs down onto the floor.

“Hey,” he sighs out.

“Carrie’s that good, huh? ”

Eddie’s head twists in confusion. It’s like your presence sent him face first into a stupor, and now he’s racking his brain trying to figure out what you were asking. Only when you smirk and point at him does he realize you’re talking about the book. The book that’s in his hand, that he was meant to be reading this whole time.

“Oh! Yeah, Carrie,” he confirms with a gummy smile as he waves the novel up, “What can I say? The lady calls to me. You finished it yet?”

You wince at the question. A few weeks ago you’d each recommended each other a book, per Eddie’s suggestion. He’d read your recommendation within the week, returning it with a broad smile that made you feel giddy. It’s taken you a little longer. He sees it all over your face and gasps.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t read it, yet? You’re really hurting my feelings here, sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your heart catch in your throat and stumble on your words for a second. “It’s—I just…I started it! I promise. I just haven’t had time to read the whole thing,” you explain through a shy smile.

Eddie chuckles at your suddenly bashful demeanor before an idea pops into his mind. Even thinking about it makes him blush. He doesn’t give himself much time to dwell on the idea of your rejection before he’s blurting it out.

“I can read it to you.”

You watch him, surveying his expression to find any hint that he’s joking. But he’s got a doe-eyed look on his face. He’s dragging one of his rings across the curve of his lips with uncertainty.

“You’d…? You’re kidding,” you decide matter-of-factly.

He vigorously shakes his head, hair flying in every direction as he throws his hand over his chest. A bright smile shines across his face. “Cross my heart. I’ve been told I got a shot in the audiobook industry. Might even hear me on one of those little cassettes in the future.”

The boy is lying through his teeth. It’s rare that someone indulged in a positive conversation with him, let alone complimented his voice. Though, it makes you huff out a laugh, maybe a little too loud for a library setting and he swears his heart is about to break out of his rib cage.

You nod at him rather emphatically and agree, “Must be your charisma.” Your hand drops to pick at the chipped wood of the table and your gaze drops with it to hide from him.

“Hey, your words.” He tosses his hands up in the air, smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He clears his throat before asking, “What do you say? Think it’d be good practice for me to have a live audience.”

He looks so genuine, a soft expression taking over rough features. His leg bounces under the table with anticipation. His fingers move to where yours are, and he hesitantly reaches his pinky to your own. It’s just a tap, but it sends a tingle up your entire arm and has you reciprocating the touch.

He’s making it so hard for you to say no. You glance up at the clock on the nearby wall and frown. “Well, right now I’m kinda supposed to tell you that the library closes in a few minutes.”

Eddie spares a glance behind you and realizes that he’s the last person on this floor, maybe the entire building.

“Oh. Yeah, well…some other time.” His shoulders sink just slightly before he’s standing upright and smiling at you. “I’ll get out of your hair, m’lady.” He bends at the waist to bow at you, waving his arms theatrically.

You’re smiling at him again, something warm and entirely too sweet. As he turns to the exit, you feel something tug at your chest. Like he’s taking a piece of you with him. It has you calling out before you’re able to stop yourself.

“Eddie?”

He twists back and hums.

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want. I mean I’d love to take you up on the offer, if you don’t mind following me around while I reshelve some returns?” A nervous laugh falls from your mouth as you hitch your thumb towards the non-fiction shelves. Eddie spots your other hand still picking at the chipped wood.

He beams at you with flushed cheeks and a puffed chest.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[cosyvelvetorchid]

BuckTommy+ ducklings???

That would be cute

This was super cute. Thank you!

You can send me bucktommy, saltommy or Tommy prompts to my ask and I'll write something.

Thanks 🩶

*******

Tommy sank into the mattress that he'd been fantasising about for the last few hours. He was just off a 48-hour shift and was exhausted. Buck was already fast asleep, mouth parted, breathing light snores into his pillow. Tommy gently pulled him into his chest, taking care not to wake him, kissed the top of his head, and closed his eyes, revelling in the silence of the night.

A few minutes later, his eyes opened as a sound cut through the silence. It was subtle, but it was there. Tommy knew it was there because he'd heard that same sound for the past 3 nights.

It was coming from outside, near to his bedroom window. At first, he'd thought he had dreamed it, then he thought his exhausted head was playing tricks on him. There had been a moment where the idea flitted across his brain that he was going crazy.

He heard it again. A tap-tap-tap-tap. It was deep sounding, almost.. wet? It was repetitive in its rhythm and travelling back and forth underneath his window.

"Babe?" He whispered to Buck, who shifted in Tommy arms. "Evan." He said a little louder. Buck woke up but didn't open his eyes.

"Mm-what?"

"Do you hear that?" The tapping continued.

"Mmm-yeah." He said sleepily. "What is it?"

"I think it's some kind of animal. I'm gonna check it out." Tommy lifted the covers to get out of bed, but Buck held him tighter.

"No. Leave it. It'll go away." He tried to snuggle back into Tommy's warmth.

"What if its a coyote? Or worse. There are kids on this block." He argued. Buck sighed.

"Okay, okay. Let's go look." Buck left the warmth of Tommy's bed, throwing one of Tommy's hoodies over his boxers, and followed Tommy to the kitchen. Tommy almost did a comedy double-take when he saw Evan standing there in tight boxers, his hoodie, with sleepy eyes and messy hair. No, he chastised himself - noise investigation first, naked Evan later. He shook the thought away, then unlocked and slid open the glass door that led to the deck that ran the entire length along the back of the house. He grabbed a flashlight from a drawer in the kitchen, and they both tentatively crept out.

"Can you see anything?" Buck asked as Tommy shone the light underneath his bedroom window.

"Footprints." He replied. "Tiny.. footprints." They were small, triangular in shape, running back and forth across the deck, sometimes criss-crossing. The tapping sound happened again, and they both turned in the direction it came from.

"I think it's coming from behind the bench." Buck said. They slowly walked across to the bench that sat at the far corner of the deck. They both slowly leaned over as Tommy shone the flash light over the top.

Under the beam of light was a pair of ducks, with 6 little ducklings.

"Aww! Baby ducks!" Buck responded with a smile. "I wanna hold one." He reached down with his hand. Tommy lightly grabbed his forarm.

"Evan, they're wild animals. You can't touch them."

"They're ducks, Tommy. Not like they're gonna have rabies." He argued.

"Still, we should call animal control or something. I don't want them on my deck." He told Buck. Buck reached down and delicately picked up one of the fuzzy babies and held it close to his face, then held it out towards Tommy.

"You look Stephen in the eye and tell him that." Buck jutted out his bottom lip and looked at Tommy.

"Ste.. wha... you named him?!"

"How can you not? He's adorable!" Buck gently grazed the little guys fluff with his knuckle.

"I.. don't look at me with that face." Tommy tried to resist Evans big blue eyes, that he was convinced Evan could make larger on cue to manipulate him into getting what he wanted. Unfortunately, it worked. Every time. Tommy sighed and walked back into the kitchen.

"Hey, where are you going?" Buck called out as he tried to resist covering the little fluff ball in his hand in kisses.

"To get some bread."

[samonroegf]

⠀　　｡･*:･ﾟ★ skywqlkergf’s 100 followers celly ･*:･ﾟ☆

hi, thank you so much for following me, i like to do celebrations when i hit a follower milestone. partially because it's fun and everyone gets to participate but also because it helps me put out extra content for you guys. i’ve never felt so welcomed and ecstatic to be apart of an online community. love you guys so much!

so sit back, grab a drink and let's have some fun!

requesting rules. masterlist. navigation

fluff prompts. angst prompts. smut prompts.

characters you can send for this celly — sam monroe, anakin skywalker, clay beresford, james kelly, kurt matheson, stephen glass

🎧 — send this with a prompt + character and get a blurb / one shot

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tagging mutuals for boost : @anisscarletstarlet @euphorichistory @heartsforanakin @jameskellygf @motelofmermaids @starwarsbian @lunalitva @sockiess @ysrjune @geekforhorror @anisscarletstarlet @decaffeinatedunicorn @anisdolly @garbagebomb @vixxensvoid @divineani

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Fall Drabbles, Day 8

prompt: curling up with a book

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

summary: Matt accidentally startles you and feels really bad about it.

warnings: Swearing, fluff

a/n: This one got away from me lol. Also I have to work a 12 hour shift today so I will probably not be posting the next few days! Sorry my loves!!

w/c: >1k (the new longest)

A sharp crack of thunder echoed throughout Hell's Kitchen, shaking the walls of your apartment and causing you to flinch violently. Shaking your head at your dramating reaction, you tried to get your breathing under control before picking up the novel you'd dropped. The pounding rain acted as a metronome, allowing your heart to mirror its steady pace.

Licking your thumb, you turned through the crinkled pages of The Shining, one of your favorite books, to find your place. You read it every year as soon as the weather turned and the trees dropped their leaves. It was a comforting tradition, but, in another sense, a huge mistake that you made annually.

See, you loved the story, but your nervous conscious was easily swayed into paranoia when you partook in spooky activities--such as reading Stephen King. (As illustrated by your reaction to the storm outside). In your opinion, though, the week or two of fright were worth it for the good read. Besides, these days you had a strong man to protect you from the inevitable nightmares.

With a steaming cup of hot chocolate beside you and a soft fleece blanket across your lap, you settled further into the couch, holding your breath during a particularly suspensful scene. Another crack of thunder roared outside the windows, rattling the glass as it whooshed past. 

Smirking pridefully, you instinctively sad up a little straighter when this noise didn't spook you. “Gonna have to try harder than that, thunder.”

“I'm not sure it heard you, love.” Came a rumbling voice from above you, which your pattering heart was not prepared for. 

“CHRIST ON A CRACKER!” You screeched, leaping off the couch and ungracefully faceplanting as your feet got snared by the throw wrapped around you. Thankfully, your hands shot out to catch you before you got an impressive concussion. Unfortunately, your right shoulder hit the ground first, underneath your full body weight, leaving you with a stinging ache. “Ow, fuck!”

The concerned face of your boyfriend appeared over you, his hands prying off his helmet before helping you back onto the couch. “Shit, darling, are you ok? I didn't mean to startle you that badly.” Matt winced, guilt heavy in his pretty eyes. 

Forcing a smile, you reassured him. ”I'm ok, Matty.“ Gratefully leaning into the warm embrace he offered, you gave a bashful chuckle. ”Pretty sure my ego is more bruised than my arm.“

”Can I check it out for you?“ After three years with the man, you knew this was more of a demand than a request. Sighing, you offered up the injured limb. 

Matt gently prodded at the joint, carefully turning your arm from side to side with his head tilted down. Seemingly satisfied with his examination, he set your arm against your side and stood up, heading for the kitchen. Pouting in his absence, you folded your hands together and looked after him. ”Did the city treat you alright this evening?“ Your voice was even, but you were sure he could sense your hesitation nonetheless. 

Given your boyfriend's tendency to fall into deep pits of remorse over the smallest mistake, you were confident he was beating himself up for injuring you--despite the fall being entirely an accident and the fact that your clumsiness was in no way his responsibility. When he was in self-flagellation mode, easy questions that encouraged him to focus on the fact that you were alive and safe usually helped. 

”Guess so.“ Was Matt's firm response. Apparently 'easy questions' wouldn't be the solution tonight. Stifling a sigh, you pivoted to a riskier tactic.

“Matthew, I can smell the self-pity from here. Please stop beating yourself up and come sit with me?“ 

Padding back over to you, Matt handed you a wrapped ice pack. ”You need to ice that shoulder first.“ 

”Pretty sure those two things aren't mutually exclusive.“ You laughed, stroking over his suit-covered arm gently. ”Please?“ 

Matt perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, tilting his head at you. ”Happy?“ He asked, the question dripping in sarcasm. 

With a mischievous grin, you wrapped your arms around his waist, tackling him to the couch cushions. He grunted, but made no move to stop you. Wiggling up his muscular torso, you kissed the tip of his nose, which he immediately scrunched with feigned contempt. Egged on by his surly reactions, you peppered kisses all over his face--breaking into a radiant grin when he laughed brightly. ”Ok, ok! I love you too, bug. Will you ice your damn shoulder now?“

Gratified, you placed the pack against your sore arm and squirmed in between Matt and the back of the couch. Flipping onto his side, his face softened as you pressed your forehead to his. ”Hi,” You greeted him happily, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. 

Closing his eyes, Matt let out a breath as you stroked a thumb over his stubbled cheek. ”Sorry about your arm.“ 

”Matty, sweetheart, I already told you to knock that shit off. I was distracted by my book and I tripped over my blanket when you startled me.“ You mock glared at him, poked his solid chest. ”Tell your brain to forgive you and move on.“ 

”Hmmm, my brain says no.“ Matt chuckled, but there was no jest in his words. 

”Ugh, Matt!“ You groaned, snuggling into his chest. ”What can I do to get you to forget about this?“ 

”Well, I think I'd be more likely to forget if I got another kiss.“ Puckering his lips, he closed his eyes expectantly. You scoffed, but gladly pressed a longer kiss to his mouth. 

”That better?“ You asked, brushing your noses together as your hand moved across his jaw and into his hair. 

Your boyfriend went slack against you, murmuring in assent before asking, ”Whatcha reading tonight?“

”The Shining. That's why I was so spooked when you got home.“ Matt chuckled quietly at the admission.

Burying his face in your chest, his lips tickled the skin over your collarbone. ”Read some to me?“ His voice was small, as if he expected you to turn him down. 

”Of course, love. Did you want to change first?“ 

Matt simply shook his head. So, you retrieved your book and opened it to the page you'd last read. Kissing his forehead, you grabbed the blanket from the floor and spread it over the two of you. ”Wendy sat in the overstuffed chair by the window with Danny on her lap, holding him, crooning the old meaningless words..“

Your velvety voice surrounded him, lulling his adrenaline filled body into a state of peace. His breathing evened out as you continued petting his hair and reading aloud. It wouldn't be long until he fell asleep, but he knew you'd be there when he woke up. 

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

The party

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit smut (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: You may recognise this as a prompt I did on my old account. I wasn't happy with the other one, so I have edited it and added a little more to it, so I hope you like this.

The prompt in question was: "Keep the noise down, baby. Someone's gonna walk in while I have my dick in you/you have your dick in me."

Summary: You are dragged to a party by one of your friends, and part of you wishes you never agreed to go until a certain stranger catches your eye.

Sipping on your second drink of the evening, you sat at a table at the party you had planned on not attending. It was your friend who pleaded with you to come, and every time you refused, she kept asking and begging, until eventually, you gave in. Yet part of you wishes you had never bothered going, because your so-called friend had just abandoned you, going off with guys she had met at the event. 

But despite your plans to leave after finishing your drink, a certain person dressed up in an Armani suit suddenly caught your attention as you looked over at the bar, and it seemed as if he was also interested in you, his gaze fixated on yours. The grey streaks in his hair indicated that he was older, but it made him look even more handsome. 

After thinking about it for a short while, you decided to talk to him. Getting up from your chair, you walked over to the bar and stood next to this handsome stranger with your empty wine glass in hand. Before the barman could serve you, the handsome stranger spoke up, grabbing your attention. 

“Oh, allow me miss,” he said before clicking his fingers, filling up your wine glass. 

You were shocked by what you had just witnessed. “How did you do that?” you wondered, swooshing the glass around to check whether the liquid was real. 

After shrugging at you, he extended his hand, gesturing for a handshake. "I'm Stephen, by the way."

A smile appeared on your face before shaking hands with him. “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled back. 

"You too."

After that, you spent most of your night drinking and talking to each other. But, as the night went on, both of you drank more, and soon you became too comfortable with one another. Whenever you laughed at something Stephen said, he would put his hand on your thigh, gently squeezing at your skin while you placed your hand on his chest.

“I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, Y/N,” Stephen said while setting his empty glass down on the bar. 

“Same here,” you replied, finishing your own drink.

Despite your desire to make a move, you were worried he'd reject you due to his age and your belief that you were not on his radar. Then again, you knew you'd probably never see him again, so you decided to just take the chance. You leaned forward, gently pressing your lips to his, kissing him. When Stephen didn't kiss you back though, you pulled away to quickly avoid the sheer embarrassment you felt. But he quickly pulled you back into the kiss, his lips colliding with yours.

You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth for a short moment. Stephen eventually pulled away for a breather, leaving you breathless as well. Then he leaned forward, his warm breath on your neck making you shudder as he whispered in your ear.

"Why don't we get away from all these people and go somewhere quiet?”

Stephen then pulled away from you and looked at you intensely. A long moment passed as you stared at him, processing what he had just asked you, before sending him a quick nod. Taking your hand, Stephen then led you away from the party and into a quiet room, shutting the door behind him as you entered. 

Then he moved to kiss you, slamming his lips onto yours, kissing you hard and rough. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as your lips moved together. But Stephen suddenly broke off the kiss and he turned you around, pinning you up against the wall. He then grabbed your hips, pulling them back as your back arched slightly before he lifted up the dress you were wearing and squeezed at your ass, digging his fingers into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m going to have my way with you now. Is that okay with you?” Stephen asked with a growl. 

“Yes,” you whined, and it seemed that was the only response he needed to hear because you then heard the sound of him unclipping his belt. 

You waited in anticipation for him to touch you again, and you let out a little whine when you felt Stephen’s fingers on you, pushing your panties to the side. In a desperate attempt to get him inside of you, you wiggled your hips a little as you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance. 

Stephen then gave you what you wanted. He pushed into you, and you let out a filthy moan as he filled you up. A deep groan left Stephen's mouth as you took every inch of his thick length. Once he was in balls deep, he gave you a moment to adjust to his size, which you appreciated. 

After giving you time to adjust, he moved, pulling almost all the way out of you before slamming back into you, causing you to whine.

Then his hands were on your hips, gripping you harshly before he began to just pound into you, the sound of his hips slapping against you filling the room. You cried out as he moved, his cock feeling so good inside your pussy. 

"Keep the noise down, baby,” Stephen chuckled. “Someone's gonna walk in while I have my dick in you.” 

The only thing you could do was whine in response as Stephen continued to fuck you, his thick cock stretching you out in the best way possible. You then felt one of his big hands on your throat before he tilted your head up and kissed you. Moaning against his lips, you kissed him back when the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot deep inside of you. 

“I love all the sweet noises you’re making for me, sweetheart. But do you want someone to hear us, huh? Do you want them to know how good you are at taking my cock?” 

“Yes!” you cried out. 

Stephen sent you a smile before he kissed you again. He kept moving, kept fucking you at a fast and punishing pace. You could feel yourself dripping all over his cock as he moved, coating him with all your juices. 

“Please don’t stop,” you begged. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You feel too good for me to stop.” 

Your sweet moans continued to fill the room as Stephen kept pounding into you, and you could hear the distant chatter of other partygoers. You prayed that they wouldn't hear you being fucked by someone you had only met a few hours ago. 

As Stephen kept moving you could feel your orgasm blossoming, and you were so desperate to cum. You needed it so badly. You turned your head to look at Stephen and you kissed him, clenching around him as he groaned against your lips. 

“Please keep fucking me. I’m going to cum,” you told him. 

“Fuck,” Stephen grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

“Fuck yes! Just like that,” you cried out as Stephen hit that sweet spot, and all it took were a few more powerful thrusts before you saw stars, the feeling driving you wild. 

Stephen fucked you through your orgasm, and your legs felt like jelly as he dragged out the feeling. It was evident he was close too because he wouldn't stop groaning as his length twitched inside of you. 

“Cum inside of me,” you whined, and it seemed that’s all Stephen needed to hear. He gave you two more rough thrusts before emptying inside of you with a deep groan, filling you up with his cum. 

Stephen pulled out of you once he had finished coating your insides, the both of you catching your breaths. You waited for Stephen to pull up his trousers before you said anything, and once he had done up his belt, you spoke up in a hopeful tone. 

“Could I see you again?” 

Stephen let out a low chuckle. “Desperate for more already?” 

The feeling of your face getting hot let you know you were blushing, your lips pressed tightly together as you stared at him. It was true though, you did want to see him again.

You then watched as Stephen performed the magic again as he had earlier, this time a little card appearing in his hand. He then handed it to you and you stared at it, noticing the address and phone number written on it. 

“Text me or visit that address whenever you’re up to it again,” he said before sending you a wink. 

You smiled at him. “Yes sir.” 

Stephen laughed before you both left the room and went your separate ways. You couldn’t wait to see him again.

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @ssinimbrn-catsr0pia @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @scxrleth3r @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

[hanasnx]

trying to break up with Stephen glass, maybe you’ve discovered how manipulative he is, or maybe it’s just not really working out. Key word there is trying. He still comes over to pick you up for work and insists he didn’t even mean to, it was just muscle memory to drive to your place. He brings you flowers but swears he’s not trying to win you over again, he just wants you to have them. He’s just being nice, what, he can’t be nice anymore? He backs you up against the entryway of your apartment and tugs at the hem of your shirt and nods so vigorously that his glasses almost fall off when you ask him if he’ll leave you alone if you just fuck him one more time.

mei mei gonna be so real in the chat rq this ask has been in my inbox since january and it’s bcos i had such a tight fucking hold on this one. i did not want to let it go at ALLLL

the manipulation specifically was my fave here. saying he’ll finally leave you alone if you just fuck him one more time 🫠🫠 it’s so stephen. the fact that you’re fucking trying your damndest to break up with him but his hold on you is so tight he’s talking circles around you, suddenly he’s got you convinced it’s better to stay together even if you don’t want to. it goes on and on and on, until you’ve had enough but he just won’t leave you alone. so he lies and says one more time,, just fuck me one more time and i’ll go away

[speaknow-sw]

Might change the date for the 17/10/2024 fic cuz I’ll be traveling in UK that week.

Got my ideas from the lovely @bimbo-baggins17 kinktober prompts.

03/10/2024 : Glory Hole & Daddy Kink with Kurt Matheson

10/10/2024 : Bondage & Puppy Play with Stephen Glass

17/10/2024 : Incest, Daddy kink, Orgasm Denial, Breeding kink, Threesome with Clayton Beresford & William Beeman

24/10/2024 : Crossdressing & Sex Toys with Scott Barringer

31/10/2024 : Gangbang, Dub-Con, Double Penetration, Masks with A.J & James Kelly & Sam Monroe

[highonmarvel]

The Other Side

Searching for your Stephen, you find another, and he won’t let you go this time.

An entry for Day 4 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: The Other Side, ft Sinister Dr Strange of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Dr Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022).

Warnings: DUB-CON!, possessive behaviour, developing Stockholm Syndrome. 18+! [And I haven’t watched Dr Strange in so long, please pretend I know what I’m doing.]

You had lost Stephen and America, and you were now left in a crumbling world, a universe broken, with no way to get home. Based on the wrecked state of the world, you thought there wasn’t a Dr Strange here, that he had been defeated and his opponent left ruin. Though he wasn’t your Stephen, the thought still deeply upset you, that Stephen could be defeated, and maybe yours would be.

You push open the door of the Sanctum, you want to call out to him but you know there’s no point. The heavy door falls shut behind you. All the antiques and strange paintings and ornaments that once decorated the foyer have been shattered, some are deteriorating, and a dark mist floats through the cold temple, enveloping you, nearly strangling you, you feel.

Upstairs. You know you have to head to the Window of the Worlds.

You walk to the window, engraved with the Seal of Vishanti. It’s cracked, black lines not belong to the symbol run in all directions across the glass, that has a purple tint, nearly a faint violet glow. You want to touch it, when you hear your name whispered.

You spin, and there stands Stephen. Not your Stephen. This Stephen is… different: he looks older, streaks of grey paint his dark hair, with sunken eyes.

“Stephen!” you call, taking a step forward, “Or, Dr Strange, I need your help, please.”

“You’re here,” he murmurs, slowly walking towards you.

“I- I am,” you sputter, a little confused and off put by his trance-like demeanour, as his curious eyes never leave you, “I lost Stephen—my Stephen—and I need to get back.”

“I am your Stephen.” his voice is so low, so low you wouldn’t have heard it were you even a notch below the level of hyper-awareness he’s activated in you.

He steps into the light, and you gasp and take a step back. Visually, he’s not much different to the average person, but his eyes are dark, a familiar blue you once knew sealed up in an endless black; you can’t read them as he continues to walk towards you. You still.

He stops in front of you, and raises shaky hands to cup your face, his lips parted slightly as his foreign dark gaze analyses every inch of your face. His fingers are cold, ice cold, so cold they burn, like dry ice; you wince at the contact but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“No,” you whisper, “No, I’m not yours, and you’re not my…”

You raise your hands to gently grasp his wrists, and freeze when you see it. His fingertips are darkened, stained with a black so profound, so dangerous in sheer aura that you know what it’s from.

“Stephen?”

He’s been tampering with the Dark Hold, the book of sins so evil you barely know of it, just the name elicits chills; Stephen, your Stephen, barely discussed it, he never did until he found out about the Scarlet Witch’s use, and even still he said very little; you got the feeling that though his knowledge seemed limitless, he knew little here, and very deliberately he kept himself in the dark, because if he knew, he’d indulge.

And indulge he has, this sinister Stephen holding your face gently in his hands, as if these hands haven’t caused unfathomable destruction. You should have known—you knew—that Dr Strange could not be defeated. He wasn’t conquered, never could he be: he conquered.

“That’s me,” he smiles and reassures you. Though his eyes and fingers are stained, that boyish smile you know to be yours is the same as ever.

“What did you do?” is all you can muster in a shaky breath, a tear slipping down your cheek, he watches it fall.

“I did what was necessary, and you…” he strains his voice to prevent himself from choking on his words and he smooths a calloused finger over your skin, wiping away the single tear that had spilt, “You were gone.”

His eyes soften, and, despite the cold of his hands, they’re warm, his eyes, his body too, you notice, noting he’s much closer to you than you realised, and definitely too close for comfort. You don’t even know if you can call him insane, mad with power, and furthermore, you can’t tell what he meant by…

A cold hand snakes over your shoulder and his fingers grasps the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. When he kisses you, you stiffen, but, really, for barely a second, because his lips, they feel so familiar. This man is like your Stephen, you can feel it, but you see a different image; he’s like your Stephen if he had no self control, or even just a little less than he has now.

The thought hits you: you could never deny Stephen. Even if you could, say, by the grace of some higher power, even if you could walk away, Stephen always gets what he wants. There isn’t even a higher power you can turn to: there is no power higher than Stephen.

“You’ve come back to me.”

What can you even say? You’re sure he isn’t delusional, you’re sure he knows you’re not his, and you’re sure he doesn’t care. You nearly resign to your fate, but the thought burns you so hot you hurriedly blurt out,

“What happened to her?”

To you. Did he…?

He doesn’t answer, he stays gazing into your eyes, a sombre-looking but relieved smile on his face, like he’s reconciling the fact that he was wrong; he’s never wrong, but he never thought he would see you again. He simply repeats, “You’ve come back to me.”

“Stephen, no,” you state, firmly, yanking his hands off your face and holding his wrists down between you two. He seems mildly shocked, you’re sure he would have been able to overpower you if he you didn’t catch him slightly off guard. But no, you should know you could never be apart from him, whether you want to or not.

Magic ropes wrap around your wrists, tying a knot and pulling them close together, so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if they sliced your hands off. Stephen’s magic is golden, pure, this man—you don’t even want to call him Stephen—his magic is corrupt; purple, with black shadows swirling the violet pulses emitting from the shapes he draws.

You panic, forcing your head down to look at your bound wrists and then snapping your head back up to him. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a shrill little squeal as you’re lifted a few centimetres off the ground. The same purple and black vines wrap around your ankles, forcing them together.

You notice this is the first time you’ve been above him, floating just high enough for him to have to raise his chin to study you. You always thought this would give you some kind of dominance (fleeting and artificial as it may be), to be over him, but no, you never stood a fucking chance.

You barely struggle, afraid that if you shift around too much you’ll drop to the ground, so all you can do is be still as he circles you, examining you. Another thing; he doesn’t seem to just look at you, he studies you, like looking for flaws in a sculpture. What happens if he finds them?

“You know,” he finally speaks after several minutes of inspecting you, “All this…” he turns you towards the window. There’s a rift in the sky, with seemingly everything in it, everything in existence, it’s overwhelming, “I did for you, honey.”

He’s lying, he must be; though you can imagine yourself getting a little carried away now and then, in no universe could you ever see a version of yourself prepared to bring about mass destruction, the ends of literally infinite lives, no; you may be imperfect, but the collapse of an entire universe? He’s either lying or being intentionally ambiguous. Maybe he’s not lying, just misleading.

“You didn’t; you did it for her,” you half-lie; while it’s true he could only have done this for a different version of you, you doubt she would have authorised that, but you use her as sort of a scapegoat anyway.

He flicks his fingers and you spin to face him. He lowers you just enough so you’re at eye level, and despite your best efforts, you genuinely can not read his gaze; you can’t find any hint of what he may be feeling, it’s just a void, but it’s not, it’s not a void; you know there’s something there, something you’re missing.

You’re sure he’s going to say something, maybe continue his little game of pretending you’re his, but just as you anticipate the opening of his mouth, you violently spin again, this time towards the door, with a shriek. He walks in front you, and you follow behind, like you’re being pulled by a rope, like a dog on a leash who’s trying to play with something when the owner is fed up and wants to go home.

His bedroom door slams shut behind you and you’re lowered onto bed with a gentleness the human touch could never give, his magic softly laying you like you’re the most precious thing, and based on the look he’s giving you, you damn well might be.

Your soft rest hazes your mind for a moment, but you’re snapped back to the cold of the Sanctum when you feel him hover over you.

“I’ve missed you…” he whispers.

You don’t know when your pants came off, but you feel him run a practiced finger over your clothed slit. Oh, God, he feels exactly like your Stephen; the foreignness of his eyes and slight change in demeanour don’t seem to mean anything when he still feels exactly the same, it’s fucking with your mind.

You love your Stephen, more than anything, and you know this isn’t him. You try to push him off but when he slips a finger inside of you, you can’t help the shudder that vibrates through you.

Can I get Stockholm Syndrome so easy? you wonder to yourself, more berate yourself, as you try desperately to ignore the feeling of his fingers inside of you, moving in and out just the way you like, he knows what you like, he knows your body just the way Stephen does.

Because he is Stephen.

۞

[bimbo-baggins17]

Alright so for my October im doing a mix of Kinktober and just fluff, heres a list of different prompts/scenarios and characters I’ll write that you can choose from!! You may start sending them in now so I can get a head start on them! They won’t start coming out until October though!

Rules For October requesting: You may pick either a SFW or NSFW prompt with one of the characters listed. 4, 18, and 28 of the NSFW prompts, two characters can be picked!

• Dividers by @violetbudd

Characters:

Padmé Amidala

Anakin Skywalker

James Kelly

Sam Monroe

AJ

Stephen Glass

Kurt Matheson

Leo Campo

Clay Beresford

Scott Barringer

SFW/Fluff Prompts:

A.) Carving pumpkins together

B.) Decorating together

C.) Going to a corn maze

D.) Passing out candy together

E.) Having a scary movie marathon

F.) Going to a pumpkin patch

G.) Picking out matching costumes together

H.) Going to a fall festival together

NSFW Prompts:

1.) Daddy Kink

2.) Crossdressing

3.) Dub-Con

4.) Sharing

5.) Sex Toys

6.) Orgasm Denial

7.) Cheating

8.) Incest

9.) Glory Hole

10.) Boot Worship

11.) Scent

12.) Branding

13.) Scissoring

14.) Crying

15.) Masks

16.) Blackmail

17.) Nipple Play

18.) Threesome

19.) Rape/Non-Con

20.) Mutual Masturbation

21.) Blow Jobs

22.) Oral Fixation

23.) Medical Play

24.) Biting

25.) Sex In Public

26.) Bondage/Restraints

27.) Voyeurism

28.) Double Penetration

29.) Rimming

30.) Jealousy

31.) Spanking

[infiniteeight8]

Tony and Stephen prompt, can we get Tony getting frustrated at something?

Tony barged into the penthouse scowling. It was hard to barge into a place with nothing but automated sliding doors, but Tony managed.

Rhodey, waiting on the couch for what had become their usual post-mortem, held up a tumbler of whiskey even as he sipped his own. Tony grabbed it, yanked off his tie with the other hand, and tossed the liquor back in one swallow.

Rhodey winced. “Date go that badly?”

“No,” Tony snarled. “It was wonderful. The restaurant was perfect. Stephen looked amazing. I looked amazing. We got so caught up in talking we went through two coffees after dessert.”

“But…?” 

Tony stalked over to the bar to refill his glass. “When we said goodnight, he told me I was a good friend. How can anyone be this oblivious? How?!?”

Rhodey groaned even as Tony flopped down onto the couch. “Tony, have you tried telling him that these are dates, not meals?”

“Sure I did!” Tony managed to sip the whiskey this time. “This time I even said, ‘Great, it’s a date!’ after he agreed.”

“Have you tried telling him in a way that can’t be mistaken for a flippant confirmation of plans?” Rhodey said dryly. “Maybe by referencing, oh, I don’t know, your feelings?”

Tony scowled. “He’s smart. I shouldn’t have to be… obvious.”

For ‘obvious’, read ‘vulnerable’, Rhodey thinks. For awhile there, he’d thought that Strange was playing oblivious on purpose in order to force Tony to open up. Communication was important in relationships, after all. But no, according to Wong he really was just clueless. The temptation to step in and sort everything out for them was strong, but, well, the both of them needed a kick in the head when it came to expressing themselves. They might as well give it to each other.

[medusapelagia]

03 - The price of success

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:  The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?") and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Dark Academia) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: demons, enemies to lovers (mentioned), gun violence, murder, major character death, sad ending, magic, demons Words: 1448

(A big thanks to @midsummer-semantics who told me about the Ornamental Pear Tree 😂)

Steve should have known better. There was no way that using an old book he found in the prohibited section of the library to conjure a demon to help him with his college grades was a good idea. Robin tried to talk him out of it, but he did it the same, and it worked.

It worked so well that now he quickly became the youngest professor in the entire Academy, and even his long-time rival Edward Munson had to acknowledge Steve's competence.

Ancient Rome's history and culture? He knows everything, from the most trivial things to the biggest secrets none was ever able to unravel.

But a deal is a deal, and every deal has a price.

The demon told him that he would have claimed his soul the very moment he found love. As if someone could ever love Steve for real.

Steve immediately agreed, but instead of making him sign a scroll with his blood, the demon just said, “The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?” and disappeared in thin air.

From that moment on Steve’s grades got better and better, he won scholarship after scholarship and numerous colleges offered him a place to teach, but Steve never accepted, being at his college and watching Edward Munson struggle was more than enough for him.

Looking behind himself, with a glass of whisky neat swirling gently in his hand, Steve can see all the opportunities he missed in his life.

He lost all his friends, and he never got married or had a life away from college. He devoted his entire life to his studies, and now that he's close to retirement, nobody is here to celebrate with him.

Still, there's a party down at the cafeteria in honor of his old rival, Edward Munson.

Some old students traveled from all over the world to celebrate the old teacher who left such an impression on their young minds. A couple of those have even dedicated their academic success to Edward Munson.

None did that for Stephen Harrington. The only thing he got was a threatening letter from one of his students accusing him of destroying his future. As if a failed exam could do that to a person.

But that’s just Steve’s life. None was there with him when he won his first Award from the Historical Association or when he published his graduation thesis in a prestigious historical magazine.

Not even his parents, who Steve was so desperately trying to impress, gave him any recognition of his academic success like he was always expected to succeed and the fact that he actually did was just a confirmation that he was doing what he was expected to.

He missed Robin, deeply, but he couldn't really blame her for choosing to follow her girlfriend, now wife, to the other side of the globe. She even tried to stay in contact for the first few years, but after facing Steve's stubborn silence, she slowly distances herself from him.

That hurt, Steve can't deny it, but in the end, it was a good thing, if none was close to Steve he would be safe from the demon curse.

He gulps down the whisky in one go and slowly moves toward the fancy bottle to pour himself some more when a soft knock on the door catches his attention.

For a moment he stills, who might be knocking at his door at this hour, he asks himself, frowning at the big wooden doors. Probably a prank.

He turns back toward the chiseled furniture, pouring more whisky, but someone knocks again with more intention.

"Professor Harrington? Are you there?" a familiar voice asks.

"Professor Munson, what are you doing at my door? I thought you were having a little celebration with your acolytes." he snarls back, not hiding the disdain in his tone.

"Yeah. The kids throw a little party for me. It was nice, I must admit it, but I wanted to celebrate with my old enemy. Would you like to join me in the garden? Our bench is still there."

Steve knows exactly what he's talking about, the old wooden bench where they used to sit when they were young, next to the Ornamental Pear tree, or cum tree as Eddie playfully used to call it due to its strong smell.

But that was ages ago, before Steve's deal, when they were studying together and they dreamed of making some great discovery together.

Steve looks at him weary, before deciding that instead of drinking whisky alone in his office he could always drink whisky with Eddie under the cum tree. After all, today was the last day he would be forced to see him.

He grabs the bottle and two glasses, "Lead the way." 

The college is almost cleared out, the lessons ended the week before and only a handful of students and teachers are still there.

They sit under the cum tree, chuckling about their shared past made of academic competition.

"Do you ever think that things could have gone differently if you weren't such a prick?" Eddie asks, sipping his whisky slowly.

"I'm not a prick. I was a man with a goal and I did my best to achieve it."

"And you totally did. Stepping on everyone, not caring about the debris you left behind, but hey, even after thirty years you're still the greatest expert on Ancient Roman History." Eddie chuckles.

"And you were too busy having fun every night and playing that stupid guitar. Did you ask me to come here just to insult me? Because if that’s the case I think I’ll go back to my study."

"Nah. But I wanted to ask you a question. Was it worth it?" Eddie asks, gulping down the last of his whisky, "Was it worth it to spend all your life alone? Maybe I never won a prestigious award or hosted a special on History Channel, but I had a full life and love and now that I'm retiring everyone came to celebrate." he turns slowly, "Your retirement celebration plan was getting drunk in your office."

"There's nothing to celebrate," Steve replies, "I'm going to lose my home and someone younger will teach a course I created from nothing. Why should I celebrate?"

"You never celebrated. Not even one of your academic successes. Why?"

"I just did what was expected from me." 

"Jee… that's sad even for you, Stevie."

Stevie, like he used to call him when they were friends.

Steve looks into Eddie’s eyes, they are clear and honest like always, and he makes a stupid decision.

"Would you believe me if I told you I made a deal with a demon to achieve academic success?" he asks, pouring more whiskey into his glass.

"I think you're drinking too much."

"I did. But the demon told me that the price was that he would have claimed my soul the very moment I found love. Didn't sound like a big deal at the time."

"Exchanging your happiness for a stupid title? It sounds like a big deal to me!" Eddie replies, chuckling.

The whisky bottle is almost empty when Eddie puts a hand on Steve's knee, "You were the biggest regret of my life, Steve. I had a happy life and few lovers but you… you were something else. The other half of my soul. The missing piece of my puzzle. And I asked you to come here because I'm leaving tomorrow and there's one thing I regretted all my life, and it was not kissing you when I had the occasion. Would you… would you let me...?”

It's just a kiss and then they'll never see each other again. It can't hurt, right?

Eddie tilts his head and bends toward Steve, slowly, giving him the time to recoil, but Steve doesn't move and they finally share a kiss.

"I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie whispers on his lips and Steve would like to answer that he loves him too, he always did, but someone is running toward them and an angry voice screams something about how unfair Steve's grades were and how he destroyed his future. Steve doesn't really have the time to understand what's going on because the boom of the shoot deafens him for a moment before the man lets the gun fall to the ground and runs away. 

The college security chases the shooter, yelling, while Steve holds Eddie's bloody body in his arms.

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?" Eddie stutters. The same word the demon said to him when Steve signed his contract, and when Eddie’s body goes limp Steve finally understands that that's the price the demon requested.