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fineprintedsunsets · 10 months

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sʜᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs

Synopsis: Stephen Strange was known to be a dick, but what his could do far outweighed his smart mouth.

Word Count: 1.9k

!Trigger Warnings!

-taking of virginity

-age!gap

-shower sex

-post-accident

-slight overstim

-aftercare

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

The Wolf- Spencer Lee Band

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

The warm water calmed Celia's nerves. The running shower water was making her forget what a shitty day she had. Training with Master Strange had been becoming more difficult as the days went by. He was a hard ass. A hot, sexy, hard ass. Celila plants a hand against the wall in anger. She’s been having these thoughts all day, and though she tries to shut them out, they always come back.

They're getting annoying, and she needs to relieve herself. Who would stop her in the sanctum's shower..

No. Cecilia shakes her head, clearing the thoughts of whatever relieving herself consisted of while grabbing a bottle of her own body wash, seeing this was her room's shower and popping the cap.

She reached for her pink loofah, soaking up the spongy drapes with the soap before placing the bottle back on the cap and setting it aside. Ceilia always got nervous taking a shower, since the panes of the shower walls were see-through. The fog from the hot water helps obscure her image just a bit.

Still, anyone could walk in here and see her body, her curves, her wet hair. Anyone could see her soaping herself up, dragging the loofah lower and lower and lower…

Fuck. She couldn’t take it anymore. Celia reached between her legs, forgetting the pink sponge on the floor of the shower. The water ran down her back, reliving her tense muscles, as a small finger, soaped up and wet circled her walls.

“Fuck.” She flinches at the touch but relishes in the pleasure that shut through her spine. A finger turned into a hand as she cupped herself, using the heel of her palm to dig into her clit. Celia bucked, one hand supporting herself on the shower wall, her eyes closed as water runs on her face, flowing down her back.

Soon, it was no longer her fingers rubbing her clit, no longer her mouth peppering outstretched kisses over her shoulders. It was his. God, she tried to block him out, but she was too far gone in her shower thoughts.

Stephen Strange was running his long, scarred fingers up her slit, teasing her, whispering praises as he stuck two digits inside. Celia moaned at her finger's intrusion, wishing it was him. Once her body took the fingers, she began to speed up, a moaning mess as she bucked and wiggled her hips, taking her fingers to the base.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t reach her spot, that special spot that made her get so close. Celia whimpered, crying out “Fuck. Stephen!” She pulled her fingers from herself, rubbing her clit to help better stimulate her entrance. What Celia didn’t know is that a set of eyes was on her, watching her as she took the fingers, her pussy clenching around the bones.

She felt the eyes on her, and when she looked over, although blurred by fog she could see Master Strange. Standing there.

“Oh, my god.” Ceilia plants both hands against the wall, pulling her fingers out of her cunt.

“This day could not get any worse.” She managed to mutter, although when she turned to face Stephen he was no longer there. He was inside the shower.

“Hello, Celia.” Strange gruffed, she tried not to focus on his cock, the way it was standing against his chest, or the fact that she could see his chest. He wasn’t overly muscular, but he was toned. You could see the outline of his muscles against his chest, along his neck, his arms, and his back if he turned around.

“Master Strange..” The truth was, no matter how hot Celia found this, this was her master, and even if he invited himself into her shower, knowing very well that she was just touching herself to him, it was inappropriate.

“Shh. I know. Feel guilty later, give into me now.” Her cunt clenches around nothing, hearing Stephen’s voice. He stood tall over her, backing her against the tiled wall. His hair meets the warm water, coating the dark strands and drenching them. Stephen planted both of his bare arms against the tile wall, leaving Celia stranded.

“Let me get you off, baby.” That’s all it took for Celia's mouth to be on his. The reality of the situation had yet to dawn on her, that Stephen Strange was in here, with his tongue down her throat. Stephen pulls away from her mouth, planting sharp and prickly kisses down her neck. Water streams over Celia, as Stephen practically tears himself from her neck.

“Lift your leg for me.” She does as she’s told, Stephen grips her thigh, positing the tip of his cock at her entrance. Sparks of anticipation shoot up her spine, marking her cunt with want.

“You're already warmed up for me.” He breathes, his voice a husky growl. It makes Celia clench as heat pools into the pit of her stomach.

“You ready to take my cock?”

She nods, although she stumbles. She still has her virginity, and although this is not what Celia imagine it would be like to get it taken, Even better actually, she’s glad it will be him. But all of it still makes her a bit nervous.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll try my best not to make it hurt.” Stephen whispers in her ear, as her heart thrums. The pet names only make it better. Placing a small kiss against Celia’s wet forehead, he pushes the tip in.

Celia jolts in pain, as Stephen places his head by her shoulder, whispering praises in her ear. She can feel him around her, in her, beside her. His scent, his heat, his body. Everything.

“Good girl. Taking me so well. Just a little more. Your okay.” Stephen's reassurances get her past the pain for the moment.

“I’m gonna do it, baby. I’m gonna fill you up.” Stephen does just that, he thrusts inside of her, burying himself to the hilt.

“Baby you're so tight. That's all for me isn’t it?” Celia can barely form words as she nods. He groans, thrusting once. They both let out breathy moans while she winces at the pain. She clenches around his cock, feeling so filled, so melancholic it’s otherworldly. Stephen groans as he feels her folds take him in, his cock twitching at the feeling.

“Celia, Can I move?” Celia nods, holding back her moan as he thrust again.

“None of that. I want to hear the way I make you feel.” God. Her master's filthy words make her clench again, which only causes him to thrust again, feeling her wet cunt around his lenth.

Stephen holds Celia against the tilted wall, fucking into her pussy like a man starved, gripping her thighs with one hand as he drills into her, and peppering kisses along her breast with the other.

All the while she lets out ravenous moans, enough to make his heart stop. The truth about Stephen Strange is that he notices the way she looks at him, but Celia never does when he looks back. How he could hear her call his name from across the hall, and in almost an instant he ran to her room, only to find Celia's fingers deep into her cunt.

Now he could certainly help with that problem too.

“Your so big.” She groans as Stephen takes one of her nipples into her mouth, fondling its hard peak.

“Look at you taking my cock, you like it filling you up, don’t you? Bet you want me to shoot my load inside you too. Is that what you want, princess?”

“God yes.” She through her head back, letting Stephen have his way with her. Nothing could ruin this moment, and when she felt her high rising, she could only focus on her high as she came around his cock.

Stephen relished in that feeling, the feeling of his cock inside her, of his mouth on his breast, his heart when she looked at him and smiled. Celias started to shake, but Stephen wasn’t done yet, he had yet to come.

“Rub your clit for me, baby.”

“Wanna see you come around my cock again.”

Even as the overstimulation crowded her, making her back arch and her pussy sore she managed to reach her fingers between them and rub her clit, watching as Stephen took in the sight, his cock fucking her harder.

“Just like that. Taking me so well.” God. This man and his words. Stephen Strange was known to be a dick, but what his could do far outweighed his smart mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Celia.”

“Will you take my cum like a good girl?” Even now, he smirked at her, seeing the way she writhed and wiggled, deciding between taking his cock more and more, or giving into the feelings of overstimulation.

“I’m coming!” Stephen groans, his face twisting in relief. Celia could feel him inside of her, twitching as he filled her up, the pleasure was too much, the feeling of him inside of her and the rapid rubbing off her clit.

“Look at me when you come.” Stephen whispered at her ear, and he pulled away and watched. He felt her clench around his length before her own release coated himself. Celia winced as he pulled out of her, the water making it impossible to open her eyes fully.

“Stay right here baby, I’ll be right back.”

⌘

Stephen did in fact come back with a towel in his hand and a pair of grey sweat pants wrapped around his waist, his chest bare. It ha dCelia drooling but the ache in her thighs turned into a type of soreness she was not used to.

Placing her carefully in bed, he made a bottle of some sort of liquid appear in his hand.

“Spread your legs.” Celia was caught off guard by the words, her eyes widening. As much as she would love to go again..

Stephen only laughed, seeing her eyes light up like a doe in headlights.

“Its alright, I’m just going to rub some petroleum jelly on your thighs, it'll help with the soreness.” Her heart thrummed at the worry in his voice, he was worried about her.

She did as he asked as he crawled up to her, inching her legs apart to rub the cool gel over her aching thighs.

Stephen started at the imprints his hand left, incredibly mesmerized as he traces the pattern on her flesh. Celia was already turning wet at the sight in front of her, Dr. Strange bowed between her thighs, his fingers rubbing against her skin.. but was too tired to act. He did as he said, before placing a kiss on both of her inner thighs and pulling a blanket over her.

“You're not leaving, are you?” Celia asked, sounding more like a whimper. She didn’t want to be needy but there was nothing in this world she wanted more than to fall asleep in Stephen Stranges arms.

“Of course not, baby.” He cooed, a bright smile on his lips. Stephen slid under the blankets, pulling her small body into him. Celia snuggled into the heat of him, growing mesmerized at the hum of his breaths.

“It hasn’t hit me yet.” She murmured into the pillow, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“What hasn't?”

“The guilt.”

Stephen laughs, “And I don’t think it ever will.”

#drstrange #marvel #stephenstrange #oneshot #orginal oc #stephenstrangesmut #smut #showersex #masterlist #youngwriter #young writer

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aazofra91 · 1 year

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cuidado

#follow4follow #followforfollow #followback #madrid #followme #spain #spanishboy #jovenescritor #sigueme4sigueme #youngwriter

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batworks · 22 days

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Nyctophobia

Knobby knuckles whiten, fingers wrapping around the blistered wood of the aged table. Nails grating upon the slab of which the timber is scraped into valleys behind the clawed grip of trembling hands. Eyes peel open wide, barring their sights to the charcoal air with anguished hope. Hope to see into the nothingness soaking the air. Drenching the body in a wretched goo, sticking legs to the creaky chair and weighing greatly on the caving chest which is at loss for air by the second.

#gothic literature #gothic lit study #wtf am i doing #how does one tag a tumblr post #short story #nyctophobia #writing #writingstudy #youngwriter

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karolinium · 10 months

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a little something i wrote last month

#studyblr #studyblrcommunity #mine #motivation #words #writing #essay #academicbrainfood #lifeblr #places #substack #independentwriter #youngwriter #femalefrienships #frienship

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slasherstories123 · 11 months

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If anyone is interested in horror commissions then I’m happy to oblige l. I have a kid I detonated to all horror stories and had it for a while. Here’s some examples of what I do.

The prices can vary depending on how much you want the word count to be,

From now on I’ll add my kofi link in my posts just in case if anyone’s interested in donating or want a commission. Have a nice day/night

@dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @charliedawn @mrs-heelshire @naxxsstuff @turdmongler @kawaistrawberry21 @l0sercat @beanbagbitch @oneofvincentscandles @vexeliers-breakroom @beel-mcburger @sleepypersonblog @slasherscrybaby @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @alexxavicry @emychan @pink-apollo

#kofi #kofimission #buy me a kofi #ko fi shop #kofi commission #ko fi link #ko fi donations #ko fi update #ko fi page #ko fi requests #ko fi post #ko fi account #writer #youngwriter #teenage writer #female writer

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writerproducerdonatello · 1 year

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Think of Starlight - Writer, Director, Producer

A woman finds herself trapped in a prison of her own making, so she must find the will to wake up, take charge of her life and learn more about the other entities that exist within this surreal mindscape.

Directors: Donatello Lolos & Jude Parsons

Starring: Shermya Modupe

Screenplay by: Donatello Lolos

Editing: Jude Parsons

VFX: Donatello Lolos

Director of Cinematography: Jude Parsons

Producer: Donatello Lolos

#shortfilm #surreal #mindscape #archetypes #jungian #youngwriter #writer #director #producer

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gurukaa · 1 year

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Hi, My Wattpad

Hello, I hope this finds you well. I have Wattpad with some short stories and poetry. Recently made a short story about a lonely library titled "A Midnight Dance". Feel free to check it out, there's no harm in doing so!

Here's the link to my profile :)

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franoqc · 1 year

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i fucking hate men

i hate how they act

i hate how they make rape jokes

i hate how they make racist jokes

i hate how they make queerphobic jokes

i hate how they make sexist jokes

i hate how they are considered to be less mature as us

i hate how puberty hits them after us

i hate how they don’t listen in class

i hate how unreliable they are

i just really fucking hate men.

#men #sexism #queerphobic #homophobia #racist #original poem #i hate people #poetry #poem #poet #youngpoet #youngwriter #sad but true #poem community #real

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marrrowoflife · 1 year

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Caligula’s Alphabet

A leaf of golden fortune slips dejectedly from his crown,

And it shatters as it meets the marble floors of his palace.

A single tear falls from his oceanic eyes as he stares at the fractured gilt,

Allowing bruised fingers to brush away the shards from his feet.

Blood of his uncle’s death stains the silk of his gown,

Belated sorrow choking him as he held back an agonised cry.

Begging for the day the last gold-plated petal falls from his aching head,

Begging for the day his freedom is once again granted.

Crucified at the feet of emperors before him,

Caligula washes the sin of greed from the trembling hands he has done such wrong with.

Crying out for the warmth of his poor mother’s embrace and comfort,

Caligula with white knuckles takes his dagger purely to feel the presence of something.

Dangerously close is the blade to the emperor’s rapidly rising chest,

Digging painfully into the porcelain skin as it threatens to pierce the heart of Rome’s leader.

Daring himself to end it all with a single thrust of the silver knife,

Daring all of Rome to see the iron blood leak from the wound of their most beloved.

Even the most seemingly perfect men hide their guilt from humanity,

Eating them alive from the inside out as they swim in their personal lake of grief.

Every last inch of the young leader’s body felt numb at the touch of his maiden’s jewelled fingers,

Each and every day feeling as if it drew longer and longer in spite of his crimes.

Fighting the urge to drive his spear into his beating and broken heart,

Finding the peace in himself as he throws it to the marble floors of his dwelling.

Fimble fingers loosening the rope that ties his robe to his fragile waist,

Fretting the sight of the bleeding wound he had put upon himself.

Gilded leaves recess from the branches of the boy’s royalty,

Guided by the way of which his ancestors had ruled his land before him.

Golden waves of hair sweep idly before his tearful yet anger-ridden eyes,

Giving up all hope and love for the people whom of which love him the dearest.

High in the dark bell tower lays the body of emperor’s past,

Heirs of kings yet to come kneeling before their royal ancestors with pleading eyes and sinful screams.

Hear the cries of saddened mothers as her child sinks into the sin of greed and lust,

Heaven praised as angels cascade with silver tears leaking from the innocence of their perception.

In a state of what seemed to be pure torment and sickness,

I heard the cries of emperor Caligula calling out for God’s forgiveness on his hands and knees.

Is it such a strange thing to imagine that I felt a sense of empathy for the king?

Is it so hard to believe that he had a fragment of purity in his corrupt heart?

Jaded Caligula was the from the lack of liveliness in the halls of his humble abode,

Just a boy he was when the golden crown was placed idly upon his head with not one ounce of hesitation.

Jubilant he had felt when his people kneeled before him and praised his name,

Justifying for him the transgression of such acts he had partaken in.

Killing himself no longer felt as if it were an option,

Kaleidoscopes of sin canvasing his eyes in razor-sharp blindfolds piercing porcelain skin.

‘Kings don’t cry’ is what the emperor told himself as his fingers gripped knots of golden hair,

Knuckles white with agony as Rome’s leader begged his lord for ‘one last chance’.

‘Loneliness’ was a bitter word as it fell from Caligula’s bleeding tongue,

‘Love’ felt as if it dug a wound into the boy’s throat as soon as it left his bruised and beaten lips.

Let me into your melancholy heart of silver and gold will you please?

Lakes of anguish drowning you in its waves of torture and solitude.

Mosaics built in the shape of his all-seeing eyes cover the walls like a museum,

Museums built purely for his personal pleasure filled with depictions of the women he believed he had loved.

Maidens he had promised the world and brides he had threatened to poison if they didn’t perform his bidding,

Melting the paint of the canvases with the flame of his aching heart.

Not once did I consider that Caligula may have felt guilt for his acts of misdeed,

Nor did I believe that the emperor was ever truly happy.

Newborns blessed with a kiss upon their fragile heads from the king himself,

Never being able to comprehend why their families worshipped such a cruel man.

‘O hear my modest prayer and allow my king to serve for an eternity’ devotees would cry,

Only for their pleas to be drowned out by the choked sobs from the throats of Caligula’s victims.

‘O Gods, hear me now’ the worshippers cry at the feet of their emperor,

Of course the Gods do not always answer your prayers.

Processes of elimination as emperor after emperor’s hearts are pierced by the spear of betrayal,

Pleading eyes of Rome’s third emperor as he begs on his bleeding knees.

‘Please’ escapes from his quivering lips as tears of anguish flood from his eyes as if they were rivers,

Piling up body upon body of the ones of whom he has betrayed.

Queens shield their eyes from the adornment of blood at their feet,

Quickly they run to their kings to shield them from the torment.

Quietly children weep as their knights are killed before them,

Quaintly their blood leaks through the centuries old cracks in the streets.

Relishing in the feeling of fame, the emperor lays back idly on his throne of gold,

Reality seems shifted as the light from the sun reflects colours from the stained glass windows onto his skin.

Riskily his fingers run over the blade of his spear,

Reaching the sharp tip he pricks himself and bleeds.

Still the scent of his past lover’s lavender perfume lingers in the air,

Shifting between the feeling of love and the feeling of hatred.

Silently sitting on his golden throne,

Silently sitting and waiting for someone to save him from his nightmare in disguise.

Timidly he reaches blood-stained fingers out for his silver dagger,

Tiredly whispering to himself that the feeling of a knife in his chest would ache less than heartbreak.

To the blind eye the young Caligula seemed to have it all,

To himself he had nothing.

Underneath the moon on a dark August’s night,

Underlying in the midnight air you can see the king’s spirit of stars in the ink-like sky.

Unsure of the meaning behind the fallen emperor’s bewitching night sky visitation you may think to yourself;

Until when will the poor young Caligula be trapped in his inky prison?

Viciously the young ruler tears at the silk gowns his admirers have draped him in,

Violently he rips them apart from thread to thread.

Violet shreds of cotton flow down the marble steps of his palace like rivers of water,

Valiantly he throws away the material as he cries out in agony to the gods above him.

Waking in fright each morning with a heart racing faster than the blink of an eye,

Weeping like a child in the embrace of a quilt once owned by his mother.

Washing away the blood of his enemies in the pools of youth surrounding his castle,

Wailing in horror at his unforgivable crimes.

Xanthic strands of hair sweep before his piercing eyes,

Xenas dancing erotically on torn silk sheets for the emperor’s now unexistant pleasure.

Xesturgy ceramics line the walls of his marble chamber,

Xenodochy now ruled sinful across Rome by the demand of emperor Caligula.

Zombie-like the king now lays in a forced slumber,

Zany he acts now around the ones he would have once called his friends.

Zen no longer a feeling the emperor can find himself acquainted with,

Zestless the almighty king once was before he bleeds onto the white marble of his palace.

- Olivia Russell 2022

#art #youngartist #poems #poetry #youngauthor #books & libraries #museums #quotes #writers #poem #youngpoet #caligula #artist #youngwriter #writing #writer #illustration

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sd08 · 1 year

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I'm 17 and I love the stars.

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aazofra91 · 1 year

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#follow4follow #followforfollow #followback #followme #madrid #spain #spanishboy #sigueme4sigueme #jovenescritor #youngwriter

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informed-brainrot · 2 years

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Breath of You

It was a breath of fresh air,

He was like a breath of fresh air,

Linger in my lungs,

Flowing through my veins.

Make my heart beat,

Make me feel,

Make me live,

Live a thousand lives.

Never wanted to exhale,

Even if it kills me,

Wanted to make it last,

Have him written to my bones.

#poems #poetry #writing #youngwriter #poets #youngpoets #creativewriting #prose #femalepoets #creativewriters

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maggie-andrea · 2 years

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The essence of feminine adolescence;

You and i still tipsy tripping through the wrong empty streets whilst tomorrows sun comes out. Admiring the high-end fashion and lifestyles of the city we brag will soon be ours and peering through a bridal stores window picking out our future wedding dresses.

Our crazy dreams being the only things except us to be filling those streets.

Last night must have been directed by the poets.

#coquette #dollete aesthetic #blair waldorf #lily rose depp #lana del rey #gossip girl #sylvia plath #dollette #feminine #adolescence #writers and poets #youngwriter #young poets

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slasherstories123 · 1 year

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I have an announcement…

IM OFFICIALLY WRITING A BOOK!

I already have the plot sorted out and what’s gonna happen in each chapter, that’s kinda why I haven’t been posting so much but it’s been my dream to write a book since I was 9-10. I now want to achieve that goal of being an author and having you guys support means a lot❤️

I will go back to posting soon so stay tuned!

#book blog #author #writer #thriller #youngwriter #young author

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callistajoe · 2 years

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An Artist’s Dream

A few nights ago, I found myself consuming the sounds of a well-rehearsed orchestra. As I listened, I saw shards of myself speckled throughout the works of symphonic composers who lived long before I was ever privy to this existence you and I are experiencing now. I bore witness to my own essence confidently yet slyly peeking through the hearty bows of the violin, carefully residing in the stools the instrumentalists sat upon, and even shining through the proud musicians themselves. While my eyes and ears witnessed this scene, the soul housed within my blood and veins became inspired. It began to bang impatiently on the door of self-doubt, pleading to be released of the hold that society has had on me - for all the core of my being has ever truly wanted has been pure connection and complete authenticity. However, this is not what we, as a society, generally tend to prioritize. If we as a community weren’t so adamant about compliance and uniformity, maybe there wouldn’t be a need for me to speak up about the undeniable, blatant dampening that our society casts upon individuality. I want to live on a planet where people truly revere creativity and the arts - and not just on the surface. I want those around me to experience creative expression for all that it is. I want people to at least once in their lives, do nothing but absorb a piece of rhythmically daring music in its entirety, to thoughtfully gaze upon a bloggable painting and allow the intricate combination of vibrantly dull colors and mountainous brushstrokes to reignite their isolated instinctual sense of inspiration and motivation - I want people to devote their undivided attention to a piece of spoken word, and not only let it into their hearts, but invite it over for a meal, maybe - to encourage the piece to bring thoughts full of richness and depth to the table. Maybe, just maybe, then will more of us realize that creative expression is what summons the intrinsically humane aspects of ourselves as people. It is what binds us together as one beating vessel of the macrocosm - it is what has the power to reveal the complex, underlying system of roots that we all stem and grow from - for we are only one people, one heart and soul, one being - divided by the physicalities and materialistic aspects of this existence. I can only hope that I’ve reached the cores of some of you in this audience - and to those of you I have, I want you to know that I see you, and we will one day experience the universe I’ve spoken of.

#writing #writers #youngwriter #poetry #female poets #art #soulsearchers

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