#Stephen Silver style

[vladdyissues]

Forgive me, Daniel. If only I had known...

Bitter Reunions AU where after beating the mysterious "ghost boy" unconscious, Vlad discovers it's actually Danny and assumes the Fentons are performing cruel experiments on their son. Vlad's Dad Gene™ kicks in with a vengeance, and he vows to protect Danny from his fanatical parents... whatever the cost.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #danny phantom fanart #dp fanart #phanart #vlad plasmius #stephen silver style #hjbenderart #first fanart for the phandom #really had fun with the style #definitely different #but very forgiving #if you thought vlad was unhinged before #you ain't seen nothin yet

[mensuited]

#stephen adkins #suit #tie #boots #beard #handsome #style #sharp #sexy #suave #fashion #hunk #stud #suited and booted #silver fox squad #silver fox #grown and sexy #grown man #mature #daddy

[blackmensuited]

#suit #hat #turtleneck #coat #handsome #style #sexy #sharp #suave #men's fashion #phyne #attractive #fine #silver fox squad #silver fox #grown man #stephen adkins

[eirian]

i think the “style crisis” i have every other week is actually trying to tell me something

i was recently given the advice that my art style is rather outdated and would have been eaten up like 15 or 20 years ago but for today’s industry i gotta have something fresher to bring to the table!  i honestly needed to hear this i think. while i love the style i usually draw in i constantly feel like i need to change it, and i guess that was the push i was waiting for!

so if you see my experimenting with my art style in the next few weeks dont be alarmed lol

#see the thing is my art is heavily and i mean HEAVILY influenced by stephen silver #and its very obvious #ive always lowkey thought i needed to be more original and stray away from his style and find my own voice #guess i was right! lol. honestly makes me happy to hear

[angelfoxx]

I just know Keegan looks so god damn hot in his casual clothing, going to bed in loose grey boxers and an old band shirt that rides up his stomach when he lies down, AND GOOD GOD his happy traillll😫I feel like he’s one of those guys with really bushy happy trails, doesn’t even know how sexy you find it. He’s lying in bed, one of his big arms around your shoulders while reading an old book. Raises an eyebrow when your hand starts wandering up his thigh, fingertips dipping under the waistband of his boxers..

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ NEED SOMETHING? ❞

…in which keegan entertains your perversions.

FEATURING: keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: keegan being a sexy motherfucker. also me giving him a tatted sleeve because it’s sexy and who the hell is gonna tell me no. also me drooling over his happy trail bc HAPPY TRAILS HAPPY TRAILS LOOOOOOOORD

NOTE/S: oh my god

It’s not your fault, really. Feeling like this. It’s not your fault.

It’s his.

He’s not ignoring you. His arm, slung up on your shoulders, is just a heavy, toned reminder that he’s with you. His attention is just elsewhere.

You aren’t totally sure what book he’s reading. Probably something of Stephen King’s. Last week, it had been Christine. The week prior, It. You hadn’t bothered checking; if it was a low-stress week, he’d tell you all about it once he finished it, true book-critic style. In any case, he’s got the thing casually in his lap, spread open by a splayed hand. He’s got a simple silver band on his middle finger, gnarled and twisted like barbed wire — every now and then, he taps it, just an occasional beat of sound as if to remind you that he’s right there.

You’re ogling his hand, now. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Your eyes travel upward. He’s got a pretty sleeve of black-and-white tattoos; churning ocean waves, storm-battered whitecaps, tossing ships. He’d explained it the first time you’d seen it; something about how he found peace in the chaos of an ocean storm. Just standing in a place where there was no resistance that he could give. Surrendering to the fury of nature. Something like that. It’s…um, attractive. Yeah. You swallow and resist the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

The top of that sleeve — thick, billowing clouds — vanishes under the edge of his tee. Charcoal-gray, emblazoned with the title of an old rock band that you’d never really heard of prior to meeting him. He’s still wearing his dog-tag, hanging on a silver chain around his neck and rising on his chest every time he breathes.

Christ, you should stop staring.

His shirt’s ridden up on his stomach, and god, you really shouldn’t look because then you won’t be able to look away. But you do look, because what are you if not a swooning idiot for the sniper sitting beside you?

Every time he breathes, his stomach sinks in and you can see the outline of his abs. God. Fucking Christ. You can see the outline of his abs but not really the middle, because along the middle he’s proudly sporting a long line of short black curls.

You’re basically salivating.

He’s just got some loose gray boxers on, sitting dangerously low on his hips. He’s left the v-line of his hips exposed; your senses are on high alert, eyes catching on every little mole spotting his waist, every little white scar, the edge of the paw-print tattoos he has just below his stomach (it’s where Riley’s front feet go when the dog stands up on his hind legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling), and it’s such a cute little tattoo but your thoughts are anything but and—

“Don’t forget to blink.”

You flinch like you’ve been shot. Your mind goes blank, and your gaze shoots upward.

Tiny smirk caught in the corner of his mouth, Keegan looks down at you with lidded, quietly humored eyes. They seem brilliantly blue, moreso than usual — though maybe that’s just the lighting in here. His hair’s a mess; short and still damp from his earlier shower, undercut scrubbing against your arm as he turns his head, just a little, one eyebrow raised. There’s a little scar through his left one; the hair splits unevenly there. You’ve told him several times that you find it sexy.

He agrees.

“What?” Your mouth feels like it’s filled with a fat wad of cotton. You feel like your thoughts are visible in your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid.” His response is honey-smooth. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say y…you were.” You swallow. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Mm.” Keegan narrows his eyes. “Mhm.”

And then he goes back to that book.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how hard you stare at his hand holding that book open. It’s almost pathetic, actually. You’re sure he’d say the same if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through your head right now. Pinkie finger on one page, index on the other, middle and ring both resting so lightly along the inseam of the spine.

Christ.

Trying to shake yourself out of your own head, you turn yourself inwards. Keegan needs no words; his arm tightens around you, hand sliding down to your hip and tugging it over so that you’re fully facing his side, head resting against his chest and body slung down along his leg. It’s comfortable like this; it goes without saying that he’s built like a motherfucker and so his pec is a comfortable resting-place for your head. He’s warm, too, deliciously so; his body heat seeps up through his tee, prickling against your skin. He’s comfy, so comfy; on other nights, you’d fallen asleep like this, cuddled up to his side with one of his arms wrapped around you. Those nights were sweet; when time started to slow and all of your senses started to bleed together, you always heard him call your name, so quiet you wouldn’t catch it if you were awake. When you didn’t answer, he’d laugh — and then you’d hear the rustle of sheets as he stooped over and pressed a little kiss to the top of your head.

You weren’t totally sure if he knew that you knew he did that.

Tonight, though, you can’t do that. You can’t fathom it, because your hand is just itching to move. It’s just casually resting against his thigh — god, his fucking thighs, hard and thick and oh, you have to stop ogling him. You have to stop thinking about how that muscle feels, flexing so slightly under your hand as it moves up.

Moves up?

Oh.

Oops.

Keegan doesn’t say anything when your hand cups the warm spot between his legs. He lets out a short breath — it almost sounds like a laugh. There’s a curve taking shape on his lips, and his eyes glint with humor as he shifts, purposefully pushing his pelvis so slightly up into your palm.

The weight of his dick pushes between your fingers and your legs instinctively snap together. Above you, Keegan’s breath cracks into a nearly-silent laugh.

He’s onto you.

You bite your lip, risking a glance up at him as you do. He isn’t looking at you; he’s still reading, hawkish blue eyes scanning from left to right, over and over again. The hand on your hip lightly squeezes a handful of your thigh.

His hips roll so slightly up again. He’s daring you to continue.

Cocky sonofabitch. You swallow as you move your hand up, up, over the slight angular swell of his abdomen and up past the elastic of his boxers. For a moment, you rake your fingers up his abs and you shudder in response to the way his stomach flexes and his breathing oh-so-slightly breaks.

No words. Just the sound of him turning the page.

Bitch. You bite your tongue as you shift your head around. You can hear his heart thumping beneath your ear, and — god fucking dammit — it’s not beating quicker at all. It’s like you can’t disturb him. Get under his skin like he gets under yours.

You pick at the elastic of his waistband. On one hand? You’re rubbing your legs together, biting your tongue, and there’s a million and one dirty images in your head. You can practically hear Keegan’s growl in your ear: too needy to sit still, princess?

But on the other hand, he’s being mean. He’s ignoring you and all of your signs. And you kind of want to just roll over and go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, he’d been hoping for you to go further.

But you won’t. So he’ll get frustrated, and then it’ll be him slowly reaching his hand under the elastic of your waistband, fingers curving over the shape of your body and feeling for wet warmth. He’ll breathe in your ear with that stupid rasp of his and he’ll ask, voice raw, if you were really planning on hanging me out to dry like that? and you’ll say maybe I was.

Or he’ll get frustrated, but he’ll reach into his own pants. He’ll leave you alone, but you’ll wake up to the quiet sound of his muted groans and his hand stroking back and forth under the thin material of his boxers and then maybe he’ll do that thing where he tips his head back, swallows, and his eyes flutter shut and he cursed, quiet and hoarse.

Or maybe—

“Cold feet?” There he is again, short phrases and little questions. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking at his book, tilting his head as he turns the page. He raises an eyebrow to you, tongue clasped between his teeth.

“What?”

No response this time. Keegan’s eyes shift over to you; he cocks his head in your direction, and under that messy black mop of hair and those thick black lashes that you’ve always been envious of, Keegan silently asks if you’re really going to play this fucking dumb.

You’ve arrived at a stalemate. You don’t move. He doesn’t speak. You two just stare at each other, blinking back-and-forth like a tennis volley until Keegan finally sighs and looks away. His eyes return to the book.

You’re about to snap, ready to rip the godforsaken thing out of his lap, when the hand on your hip shifts. His arm lifts off of your back; it pulls around your shoulders instead, crushing you into his armpit.

His fingers clasp around your wrist, and you catch the undeniable edge of a smirk on his face before he takes your hand and pulls it into his pants.

get fucking cliffhanger’d bitches

#cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan smut #cod keegan #LORDDDD

[therobotmonster]

Remember when I told you Disney wasn't going to "save you" from AI?

Megacorps like Disney have mountains of exclusive data they "own" that they can use to create their own internal, proprietary, AI systems. They have every sketch, development photo, unused concept art piece, cut scene, note, doodle, rotoscope/animation reference footage, every storyboard, merch design document, you name it.

And that's on top of every single frame of every movie and TV show. Every panel of every comic.

That's why Disney supports the efforts to clamp down on AI for copyright reasons, because they own all the copyrights. They want that power in their hands. They do not want you to be able to use a cheap or free utility to compete with them. Along the way, they'll burn the entire concept of fair use to the ground and snatch the right to copyright styles. Adobe has confessed this intention, straight to congress.

When the lawyers come, you won't be accused of stealing from say, artist Stephen Silver. You'll be accused of stealing the style of Disney's Kim Possible(TM).

But don't listen to me. Listen to the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

#ai artwork #generative ai #disney #copyright #copyleft #fair use #i told you so

[littlemissayu]

Wht Songs Would Play in Your Rom-Com? Pt2

A/N: Hey Loves!! I'm posting pt2, surprisingly I actually posted on the day I scheduled myself to post so that's great!! I hope you enjoy pt2 and it is as good as pt1. And PLEASE leave some feedback it is very helpful!!

pt1

Parings: Pomefiore, Idia Shorud, Diasomnia x reader(seperate/romantic)

Love Grows(Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse

If you read the lyrics or have listened to the song this is obviously the song that plays as he slowly falls for you. This also most likely opposites attract kind of trope. Js imagine how cute it would be to see Vil fall hard for someone who is almost nothing like him and as much as some of the things you do he may prefer to stay far away from, still he’ll think it's cute because it’s you.

Sincerely Yours by Zenglen

If you have seen some of my prior content you might recognize this song as the inspiration for on of my post. Now part of this may be my haitian culture influencing my opinion but cmon, you can’t see Rook and his love dancing in the living room, yk like that first time moving in kinda of dance when you two are just super sickly in love.(that or Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez)

Late Night Talking by Harry Styles

I might be reaching but just think about the possibility of you guys having your “thing” be just staying up late talking to each other despite how sleepy you are. And maybe you two work out your conflict by one of you coming over at night to talk out your problem together js like all the other times you guys have random conversations to the point its js a normal thin gyou teo do.

Video Game Lover by Narraws Music

Now this feels a bit{a lot} on the nose BUT your telling me you don’t wanna see Idia’s rom-com becoming good friends with you through a common game you two play but rarely talk to each other irl, not even knowing who the person is behind the screen. You guys just vent to each other through the chat an you guys are just binding til you say something ridiculously familiar and so he recognizes you from that and he’s too nervous to approach you irl, how the issue is solved is all up to you my loves. 

Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elivs Presely

This is obviously a human-fae love between you two. Are you kidding me, that title is “Cant help falling in love” hinting at the complexity of your relationship as a human lifespan is considerably shorter than a fae’s so he’ll have to live a large chunk of his life without you. Not to mention that Malleus is bound to be king of Briar Valley which the faeries of Briar Valley may not be too overjoyed at the fact their king is with a human.

But you two just cant help but fall for each other and this song plays as you two are out dancing together in the dark, relishing the relationship that you two might not be able to have for long.

Viva La Vida by Coldplay

Despite this not being a love song it is pretty similar to Lilia’s story and so just imagine this playing during like your first truly swoon worthy kiss. But not only during the kiss, the instrumental can lightly play in the background in either the learning of his backstory OR during that first moment you meet. Maybe even when he first falls in love with you.

Bam Bam by Camilla Cabello and Ed Sheeran

Fell first(you) and fell harder(Silver). You fell first obviously bc he’s constantly asleep so it’d make more sense for you to fall first. And when you fall for him you begin to do things to help him out, some are smaller things like adjusting his head so his neck doesn’t hurt or bigger things like putting a pillow beneath his head(wheter thats one of your body parts or an actually pillow is up to you). Those little things add up and he notices and slowly you creep into his thoughts and dreams and now one of the only things he sees in his sleep is you. Convinced that its one of those tropes where you say you love him while you think he’s asleep and you think he doesn’t hear and he doesnt like you back, but he just hasn’t been able to find a way to tell you as their are many plot thrown in issues that get in his way.

That’s How You Know by Amy Adams

I’m very well aware this is another Disney song BUT, think about Sebek with a stereotypical Disney Princess who just belts into song whenever, and she’s not really singing to him but giving other guys advice on how to treat their loves and he just ends up finding himself admiring the fact your giving these random guys advice all the while not realizing that the seeds of his love for you were being sewed.

A/N: Well I finally got pt2 out!! Lmk your thought and opinions not only on this post(+the last one) but some other things that are similar(other ideas for post). Ik i haven’t responded to anything in my inbox in a while but i promise I’ll do my best to get to them I js have many other things on my plate as well

Pomefiore Masterlist

Ignihyde Masterlist

Diasomnia Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

Grand Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fluff #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

[ghosttrolls]

i was talking to my mom the other day about how butch hartman claims credit for so many things that weren't solely created by him, and i brought up the character design work that was done by stephen silver. i mentioned that he worked on kim possible and that these days now that i have a more well trained artist's eye i can see the similarities between the kim possible designs and the danny phantom art style - danny phantom is a bit more angular, among other things, of course. but i can tell it's by the same guy only NOW, after taking college classes on art analysis, and it's crazy that butch takes advantage of people not being able to see that. for so long the danny phantom art style has been called "butch hartman art style." and then my mom said that when we were first watching danny phantom back in the day she thought it was actually kim possible hgdsjfhkj so maybe less people think it's all butch than i thought

#ghostly posts #danny phantom #stephen silver

[blueiskewl]

Britain's Oldest Gold Coin Hoard Discovered

The oldest hoard of gold coins in Britain, dating back 2,173 years, was discovered by a metal detectorist.

The 12 Iron Age artifacts were discovered by Stephen Eldridge while scouring fields in Buckinghamshire.

They were built in 150 BC by a tribe in what is now Picardy, France, according to experts at the British Museum.

According to speculation, the coins were likely transferred to Britain in return for Celtic mercenaries who were sent to Gaul in western Europe to fight the Romans.

A hoard from this date is extremely uncommon, even though individual gold coins from this era have been discovered before.

The coins will now likely sell for £30,000 when they are put up for auction at London's Spink & Son.

In November 2019, Mr. Eldridge, 68, discovered the coins in the Buckinghamshire community of Ashley Green.

The Catuvellauni tribe first settled in the region about 150 BC, and during the ensuing century they grew to become the most dominant tribe in Britain.

Mr. Eldridge has put the coins up for auction with London-based coin specialists Spink after going through the treasure process.

The coins' roughly 75% gold content with an alloy of silver and copper was validated by scientific x-ray fluorescence analysis, indicating the economy in which Britain's first gold coinage were circulating.

The coins are now expected to sell for £30,000 when they go under the hammer at London auctioneers Spink & Son

Gregory Edmund, of Spink & Son, said: “Whilst individual gold coins of this period have been recorded across south east England, it is incredibly rare for a trove of this size or date to be uncovered. Contemporary local coinage was simply cast base metal issues called 'potins'. Whoever successfully imported this trove of gold coins would have undoubtedly wielded influence in the region.

They would have been exported, probably in exchange for mercenaries, equipment and hunting dogs to fight the Romans or other tribes in Belgium. Twenty or thirty years after they were deposited we started to get the first British coins in the same style. These coins were in the wealthiest part of the English kingdom. A hoard of this size and period is unprecedented in the archaeological record. There was one other hoard from this period of three coins found. These coins have been well used, it is very clear they are not fresh when they are put in the ground, but still retain remarkable details of a seldom-seen Iron Age art form.

It is often speculated that the portraiture of this coinage was deliberately androgynous despite being modelled on the classical male god Apollo. The feminine styling is probably a reflection of the political significance of women in Iron Age society, that enabled such historical figures as Cartimandua and Boudicca to rise to prominence and our now national folklore. It is incredibly satisfying to assist in the proper recording, academic analysis and now sale of these prestigious prehistoric relics.”

Following the coroner's inquest, the British Museum made the decision to disclaim the coins, which means they now belong to the finder.

The landowner will receive a portion of Mr. Eldridge's earnings.

#Britain's Oldest Gold Coin Hoard Discovered #Buckinghamshire #The Catuvellauni tribe #treasure #gold #gold coins #ancient gold coiins #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #metal detecting #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #iron age

[farfetchedshow]

The animation style of your show is cool. It reminds me of Villainous.

Villainous has a fun style! And thank you! Figured this would be a great ask to go into what stuff's inspired our style. The FF art style is a bit of a combo of creator @actuallynickels and lead character designer @drunkenfixx's styles.

Ashley's style has strongly been influenced by the work of Stephen Silver who designed shows like Danny Phantom and Kim Possible! With a fair bit of disney and anime influences as well.

(Big shout out to the incredible shape language at work with Stephen Silver's art)

Both Ashley and Max have also taken a lot of inspiration from the amazing work by gainax/trigger

Their strong use of design flow, shadow, and color are absolutely iconic and incredibly visually striking

According to Max a lot of his big influences were the works of Leiji Matsumoto, Juanjo Guarnido, Jamie Hewlett, and classic anime.

We have a feeling other creators in our generation were inspired by a lot of these things as well. We really want to try and capture the strong use of shape language, flow, and especially color from the amazing creators who inspired us!

-🐰 and max

#far fetched answers

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 2 Group D Match 6

expand for propaganda! (major wall of text warning)

Henry Rollins:

"Honestly, Johnny Mnemonic Henry with the glasses and the lab coat was pretty hot"

"A wonderful physical specimen. Plus he’s really funny and weird….best hot ones interview of all time."

"I want him to run me over with a bus"

Stephen Malkmus:

"i can't even stand stephen malkmus but there's a very special girl out there who needs this win"

"My perpetually stoned, nonsensical girlfriend...if we don't invent the time machine soon I might die. He's like 6 ft tall so unfortunately I'd be like one of those birds that ride on giraffes and eat bugs out of their fur. And then I'd die in a weed accident during the recording of Wowee Zowee? Before that though I'd spend 25 hrs a day in bed with him. Alright thanks"

"Stephen Malkmus chronically addicted to moaning and gasping in Pavement songs like he’s getting the best dicking down of his life in the back of the tour bus while everyone else is asleep"

"This is the indie-label match, right? Then it has to be Malkmus, he *made* the scene. And he's still releasing excellent music today. He's just the most influential rockstar of the 90s."

"my gay pavement fan uncle gets out of prison tonight and he knows you ratted him out in '06. the only way to make this right is to vote for stephen"

"Pretty please vote for him, my friend loves him and he really wants him to win"

""There were times he refused to speak to his bandmates, pulling a jacket over his head and referring to himself as "the little bitch"." I have also heard him refer to himself as a brat, a queen, a primadonna, a sociopath, and a narcissist. All of these descriptors have made me want to slam him against a wall and turn his neck fun new colors."

"I mean, Pavement is THEE indie band of the 90s. The lowkey snark, Koreaaaa, so much style that it's wasted. And Malkmus is an understated cool rockstar: the hair, the face, Silver Jews! He never ever sold out. He's the 90s."

"the most beautiful man ever he looks like a gorgeous fairytale prince. he has been hot since he emerged on the scene and continues to be so as their reunion tour comes to a close. stephen forever"

"we have to consider the autism swagger. find me a pavement write up that doesn’t spend three paragraphs waxing lyrical on his inability to make eye contact. find me a YouTube comment section that doesn’t have hoards of moms swooning over his flat affect. his refusal to wear anything more formal than a flannel for the first decade of his career? genuinely culturally influential. 30 glorious years of expressionless performances. sunglasses in the dark. so many straight men falling over themselves for him they made a joke about it in the Barbie movie. raw tbh sex appeal. and he’s got a great nose"

"he had a couple of unfortunate haircuts during this period but highkey i would break both of my arms to just be able to make out with him. please vote for SM my life is in danger if you don't"

#most attractive 90s musician #polls #poll #90s music #tournament #henry rollins #black flag #stephen malkmus #pavement

[boop-le-snoot]

🔹masterlist🔹

dazed & confused

wanted a woman, never bargained for you // lotsa people talking, few of them know // soul of a woman was created below (i like it)

sorry this took so long, i got horny multiple times while writing this & had to seek jesus (couldn't find him)

most smut fics are love letters, this? this is hate mail. to stephen strange, specifically. consider this my honest attempt at enemies to lovers. pushing my three favourite agendas: doctor stephen strange, pasta and led zeppelin.

spotify link to the recommended record to play.

warnings: enemies to lovers, trust issues, overthinking/insecure!reader, 18+: face-sitting/riding, dirty talk, stephen's whore mouth, pet names, hitting it from the back sorcerer style, some light bondage, creampie, just filth, okay? softdom!stephen that knows you can be a good girl if you put a little effort into it. brat taming, maybe? word count 8.5k

"Open up. Open wide," Stephen's stern voice instructed, rolling over you in a wave of exasperation.

You hummed to convey your indignation but relented, parting your lips until the bones of your jaw creaked and the muscles in your cheeks grew taut. Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, tickling it, as you concentrated on not swallowing. Some of it spilled into the corners of your mouth; any other time, you would be mortified as droplets of it slid down your cheek, with Dr. Strange so close to your face that subtle whiffs of his cologne were beginning to reach your nose.

It twitched. So did Stephen's lips.

You could sense the snarky remark bubbling up to the surface of his throat before he even made a sound.

"Be. Still."

I AM TRYING! You attempted to convey, humming angrily and rolling your eyes.

Stephen kept eyeing the runes burnt into the sides of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth all the while his hands kept up a rapid pace, their glow casting a theatre of shadows on his angular face. His cheekbones popped. The treacherous, red curve of his mouth was tense, chapped lips pursed, silver hairs gleaming in his beard that adorns his Cupid's bow.

As your eyes adapted focus, you noticed the large amount of discoloration. It was like Stephen glittered in the golden shine of his spellwork; as it exploded into trillions of little sparks, they set his entire face alight. Like the sun itself had split into opaque gemstones to adorn him.

You forced your eyes to focus on a crack in the ceiling, letting your breath slowly, shakily exit through your nose.

Stephen Strange was a beautiful bastard.

You've told him so - patronisingly, of course, as part of the frequent verbal stand-offs you two had. It was a tale as old as the world: he'd play the superior card, you'd quietly roll your eyes and continue to do your thing - Stephen would annoy you until you were forced to acknowledge him; you, being no blushing maiden, spared him not from the sharpness of your tongue and your wit.

Still, you were glad he wasn't reckless enough for his ego to get in the way of saving people's lives. Most of the time, at least. If you were forced to pair up, there was a reasonable truce until the immediate threat was removed from this universe. The banter during clean-up, you could deal with. It was fun sometimes, even, Stephen's short fuse making him an easy target to unload some pent up frustration onto.

Worstie, a word of the slang variety, snuck into your head as you contemplated the sickly-beige paint on the ceiling. A quick amused chuff escaped you, causing Stephen's focused face to turn down.

"Are you seriously laughing right now? Most of your mucosa is covered in second degree burns."

It was the accusative amusement that had you reeling, internally of course. You briefly set your eyes back on his, making sure he knew your spirits remained as high as ever.

Strange offered a noise of his own. The corners of his mouth upturned again.

"You know, I find you more agreeable this way. Finally, some peace and quiet around here," he remarked conversationally, placing a large, cool, glowing palm over you throat that immediately soothed any lingering discomfort from the enemy's spell. "You could even pass as cute when you're not talking." Evidently, he was enjoying your temporary shift in dynamics.

Temporary, it's only temporary, you told yourself, keeping your breathing even as Stephen obviously tried to make his best of the situation and get a rise out of you. The realization of him being able to win, proverbially speaking, only when you were incapacitated, filled you with no small joy.

"... but that's the good news," he picked up. "The bad news is that I can fix this, but it is going to hurt. A lot."

"Zo it," you rasped, feeling your mucous membranes crack and bleed simply from uttering two garbled syllables.

The sorcerer's pointed look lingered on your face, uncomfortably close and soundlessly loud. His fingers twitched along your jawline.

"Alright," he nodded, to himself, and withdrew to perform a set of complicated hand gestures over your prone form.

It burned, worse than the wretched curse itself. The skin was peeling off you, quite literally this time, taking the runic markings with it, cleansing your vessel with fresh blood. The urge to gag was overwhelming as iron and copper flooded your mouth, dribbling crimson down the corners of your mouth. Your hands clutched at the sides of the chair until your knuckles lost all color; round, fat teardrops slid down your cheeks as your chest heaved.

Stephen observed you with a clinical eye, blinking rapidly as the spell lit up for the final time before dissolving in on itself and taking most of the pain with it. You could breathe again, even if the cool air in the room felt like ice directly over the burns. Sharp and stinging.

"Fanks," you rasped, testing out your vocal capabilities and pain levels, both of which you found bearable.

"Alas, peace never lasts long," the corners of Stephen's mouth returned to their usual, condescending position.

His hands found their frivolous way back to your face, holding it in place as sharp eyes examined the tender inside of your mouth. A long, slender finger reached out for the corner of your eye, wiping a stray tear away from your fluttering lashes, followed by his thumb diligently flicking off the blood at the crest of your lips.

If you wouldn't know any better, you'd think the touch was caring. Tender, even, as the sorcerer's oh so earnest stormy blues traced the fine lines of your face. But you did - know better. It was humiliating, being treated for your boo-boos like a moody child.

You closed your mouth, hands immediately flying to massage the sore, tense muscles of your jaw.

Stephen withdrew his fingers rapidly, clasping them over his stomach.

"Wong took care of the stragglers?" You murmured, carefully enunciating your words. Chit-chatting was going to be out of the question for the next couple of days.

"As always," Stephen's reply was curt, his eyes cast on the wall.

"I guess I'll go sleep it off then," you conceded, spying the clock, its arms showing a little past midnight. Why couldn't the bad guys pick a better time of the day to execute their nefarious, stupid plans?

"That would be best," the sorcerer shuffled in place before clearing his throat. "Doctor's orders."

The tongue-in-cheek remark had you obstinately emit a scratchy laugh. Insufferable, as always, no stress or tragedy could put this man out of his saucy commentary.

You voiced your thoughts on the topic. "Cheeky bastard!"

With a shake of your head, you conjured up a portal directly to your bedroom, stepping into it and lifting up an arm to say goodbye as it closed up behind you, totally missing the long, tired sigh coming from the tall man.

Your apartment greeted you cold; a beeline for the shower and clothes thrown carelessly onto the ground, the smell of French vanilla and sandalwood from your favourite candles - their flames danced, casting moving shadows over the walls. As you paused to remove the last layers of sweat-soaked fabric, the angular obscurities caught your eye, freezing you in your tracks.

Some sorcerers found shadows jarring - it was the reason for the Sanctum's skyrocketing electricity bills - the moving, dancing spots reminded the dimension wanderers of places better left unseen. And you jumped, too, at first, but then a brief memory crossed your mind.

Stephen's sharp features. The way that light, any light, drew immediate attention to his sculpted bone structure and straight, regal nose. When he had leaned over you, as close to share a breath, you traced the smile lines on his skin, the odd scar over his lip. He was sharp, as in mind, so in body. Even the hair he so meticulously styled (must've taken all morning) was divaricate in it's curve.

Under the hot, soothing spray of water, in the privacy of your shower, you allowed yourself to entertain thoughts that usually were kept at bay. Images of Stephen shirtless, dripping with the blood of your shared enemies; chest heaving and strong, defined muscles of his back tense. The way clear sweat rolled down the groves along his spine just to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants that slouched low on his hips.

"Fuck," you muttered, sticking your flaming face right beneath the spray. The droplets bounced off it as you held your breath.

An arduous pull, deep and low in your belly, the kind that rode on the tailwind of an adrenaline rush, had quickly blossomed into a heaviness that sat like a two-tonne blunder, immovable and annoying. Only pure spite and the rumbling of your stomach gave you the willpower to push the knob, turn the water off and throw on some sweatpants to depart for your kitchen.

Briefly flicking through a take-out app, you abandoned the idea of ordering food at this ungodly hour, deciding to throw together some ingredients for a quick and delicious pasta.

Thoughts of Stephen still lingered on your mind, stubborn as the man himself. You didn't want to give into the feelings, completely unwilling to admit the man had somehow found a way under your skin. He still had regular coffee dates with his ex, for fuck's sake! You deserved better than someone's leftovers.

As you felt yourself begin to think in circles, your hands groped for your phone again, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker and turning it up to highest acceptable volume in the dead of the night. Sultry guitar, intermingled with god-tier vocals, was exactly what you needed to silence your inner turmoil.

Hand busy with cutting and chopping, your legs swayed your tired body to the rhythm as it partook in the mindless task.

One song blended into another as your peace was suddenly disturbed by the sound of your doorbell ringing. Startled, you waited for the shrill noise to repeat itself; it did, more insistent the second time.

Ashamed, you turned down the music somewhat, hastily rushing to the door with a polite smile glued to your face and apologies ready to go. As quietly as you could, you cracked the door open.

"Hi," Stephen was leaning on the wall next to your door, forearm raised. "Took you a while."

"Don't tell me there's another emergency," the smile slid off your face to be replaced by surprise at the choice of his attire.

The ever-present Cloak of Levitation was draped over a baby blue hoodie with a Columbia logo on it. Stephen's sweatpants looked soft and worn and the brand name tennis shoes screamed "upper class middle-aged man". You've seen him in jeans in cardigans, sure, but like this? He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Sort of," he looked over your shoulder, eyes darting over the items in your apartment. "Wong forgot to renew protective wards. The Sanctum is snowed in. I've got some apprentices rounding up the penguins as we speak," at least he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Penguins?" You wondered, lips twitching at the funny way he was saying that word. "And what does that have to do with me? I'm on sick leave," your eyebrow rose.

"I thought I could bum on your couch?"

No please, no thank you. Both of your eyebrows now rose, appalled at his audacity. You contemplated telling him to book a hotel room, but hesitated, remembering the quick and efficient way he dealt with your wounds a few hours ago. With a sigh, you opened your door, leading him into your apartment.

"Leave your shoes in the corridor and lock the door," you walked back into the kitchen, eyeing the unfinished pasta. A quick survey of the items, you deduced it would be enough for both of you with some to spare. After all, you weren't raised in a barn.

Unlike some people.

Stephen ogled the various knick-knacks scattered around your kitchen and living room without reservation, coming up as far as to pick up and study every photo you had on display. To mask your annoyance, you turned the music back up, pointedly ignoring the creeping feeling of impending doom.

"Is that you as a baby?" Stephen could not hold back his curiosity anymore. He held up a framed photo of a grinning, chubby toddler.

"That's my cousin," your voice dripped with irritation. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to snoop?"

"It was on display," he retorted without missing a beat, but nonetheless put the frame down and approached you, eyeing the chopped onions with suspicion. "Should I worry about getting poisoned?"

"Yes," the deadpan response made him bark a laugh. "But I have one bathroom, so I'll save it for the morning."

"Who said I won't spend the day?" Stephen crossed his arms, staring you down from where he leaned against the counter. "Squatter's rights."

"My neighbours love death metal," the garlic plopped next to the onions and went into the pan, rich aroma immediately filling up the kitchen space. "Especially at eight in the morning. Teenagers, right?"

You could hear the smile creep into Stephen's voice even though his face didn't change one bit. A cherry tomato was quickly snatched from under your knife and plopped into his mouth without as much as a warning.

"Nothing wrong with death metal," his baritone dropped. "I prefer classic rock, but to each their own."

As you prepared to fire off a few choice words about his delinquent thieving tendencies, Stephen pointed at the Bluetooth speaker:

"Led Zeppelin, Dazed & Confused, playing live in Los Angeles in 1972. With bits and pieces of Walter’s Walk and The Crunge," he rattled off, looking, for once, exceedingly proud of himself.

"Huh," the knife froze in your hand as you processed the influx of information. Not knowing what to add, you settled for a flat, "good song. Now stop eating the ingredients."

Stephen laughed once more, no trace of the usual snark and condescension audible in his voice.

"Robert Plant was only 23 when this was recorded."

The water had come to a boil; you dumped the pasta in, stirring the sauce with your other hand. It smelled heavenly; you prayed the music was loud enough and Stephen couldn't hear the chorus of growls coming from your stomach.

"Nerd," you accused him, for a lack of better things to say.

His presence behind you was felt, not seen. With his larger frame inches away, you could smell his aftershave and the leftover crisp of snow he must've brought from the Sanctum. It made your shoulders tense: for the second time today, Stephen was so close, your body involuntary flooded with molten led, warmth spreading from all the small places where you two almost touched.

You felt your knuckles begin to creak with how tightly you had been holding onto the spatula; it took a criminal amount of care to place it on the side of the pan without causing a flurry of noise.

An arm wrapped itself around your waist, letting your back connect with Stephen's chest. The shock froze your limbs and you let yourself be swayed along to the music, electricity sparking up your spine, a slow current running through your heart, your stomach and your hips.

"Everybody's been talking and I swear they been talkin' trash..." Voice low and quiet, the singing coming from the man was more of a hum.

It was still enough for you to strain your hearing, for the rich baritone to add more fuel to the fire of sudden craving.

"The way you push me, I can't take too much of that," another hand, large and warm, took hold of your own that hung limply by your side, bringing it up.

C'mon, c'mon, show me the way! I want to make love to you, little girl, twenty-five hours a day!

You felt true to the song title: dazed by the sudden display of affection and confused by Stephen's unbothered, easygoing attitude. He shelved his vitriol the moment his working hours were over, it seemed. It put you on edge.

Somehow, you thought, that if you'd respond with your usual snark, he'd double down on this strange amicability. And you weren't sure you'd be able to take that. Had he finally realized that the best way to get under your skin would be to play nice? To be friendly right up until you let your guard down and strike right then and there?

"Do I really repulse you that much?" His words startled you out of your negative spiral.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself and at him.

"You infuriate me," honesty was better than an obvious lie in this case, you decided. Rationed honesty. You weren't about to tell him of the thoughts you entertained in your solitude.

Stephen let go of your waist but kept your hand in his. Without any effort, he spun you, once, slowly, for you to see a wicked smile plastered on his face.

"The feeling's mutual."

You stayed in position, looking up at his face for the longest moment. His neutral-positive expression had you walking a high wire over the abyss of his stormy blue eyes: if you allowed yourself to be distracted, you'd lose all sense of balance and fall, fall, fall...

The sauce was begging for attention at this point and you turned to tend to it, using the few moments of your face being hidden to realign yourself from the bastard's attempts to throw you off-kilter. Who knew it would be sudden tenderness to be the one to put sticks in your wheels? You had done a great job of keeping unnecessary crushes in check before he came along.

The silence became pregnant and you hated it.

"If I had the chance to time-travel, you best believe I wouldn't go kill baby Hitler and shit. I'd go and see these guys live, it would be by far more emotionally satisfying," you offered the first thing that popped into your mind, eager to aid the awkward moment.

"Isn't that right?" He sounded a little too jovial to be surprised. "A wise choice, considering you've studied the effects of time. Intervention in the flow of it would be unwise. You'd look great in flared pants."

"Nerd," you repeated yourself, this time without any heat, choosing to disregard the odd compliment. "Some things are just about enjoyment, for the kick of it. Without any second thoughts. Do you not have hobbies you enjoy?"

"Protecting your reality is a full-time job that demands an unfair amount of overtime," the sorcerer deadpanned, coming up and taking the pot of pasta to drain it without being asked.

"No wonder you enjoy making my life difficult if that's the only thing you do," your mumbling got lost in the sounds of pouring water. Or so you thought.

"And you don't?" As he set the pasta next to the saucpan, his expectant eyes turned to your face, scanning it with rapt attention.

A sigh, one of many when it came to him, left your mouth. You dumped the pasta directly into the sauce, giving it a good stir, before taking the pan off the heat and putting a lid on the food. Mimicking his defensive stance, you leaned against the opposite counter, crossing your arms.

"I'm not the one to yield."

Stephen advanced, trapping your body between it and himself by resting his palms on the counter and lowering himself to your eye-level, an annoying little smirk curving his mouth and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"As a matter of fact, there is something I enjoy," the sorcerer spoke, his breath fanned over your face, landing directly onto your lips.

Your tongue darted out in response, wetting them, as your mouth had suddenly gone dry and heartbeat rose upward in your chest, sitting uncomfortably close to your esophagus.

Seemingly unbothered, Stephen continued, "and that is you. The way you scrunch your nose when you're mad..." His eyes briefly slid down to it, "adorable."

You could only blink, mouth parted and chin lowered. The more you stayed quiet, the wider his smirk grew.

"Your idea of flirting is pelting someone with insults?" Not being one to back down so quickly, you voiced your bafflement.

"And yours isn't?"

No, you wanted to say, but that would have been a lie. Your standoffs, for that they were annoying, definitely had done the job and brought you two together. Closer than ever, in fact. Stephen was barely three inches away from you, lips inviting and face earnest. In his own way.

To back down right now would be to lose.

Eyes squeezed shut, you tasted the offered fruit of Stephen's lips by slotting your mouth over his, surpassing any attempt at finesse. Months of pent-up frustration and a sense of determination stronger than your fear of rejection pushed you to break your number one personal rule of not getting attached to things that could be bad to you.

And Stephen was bad. In the split second it took for your lips to connect, one of his hands flew up to cradle the side of your face, holding you in place as his mouth sinfully devoured yours. It seemed like he had gotten used to holding back, too, evidenced by the sheer hunger that twisted his tongue around yours in a dance of lust and longing.

Blood rushed to your head as the realization set in. Stephen had been pining, maybe even helplessly clutched at the tiles in the privacy of his shower, chasing the hunger pangs for your body with fleeting moments spent together, straining to see things he thought weren't there.

Those sinful images of his bare back flooded your head: skin like caramel, clear droplets sliding down the hills and valleys of strong muscle littered with freckles and moles; like melted sugar or molasses, you craved to collect every sweet drop with your mouth. A low moan rose from your throat, immediately absorbed into the kiss.

Stephen withdrew, panting and flushed, lips glistening with spit.

"Your mouth, does it hurt?"

Aside from the pounding in your temples and the inferno raging in your abdomen, you could feel absolutely nothing. He'd consumed you completely. Not trusting your mouth, you shook your head negative, blinking as it swam and black dots appeared in the field of your vision.

"Good," a curt nod and his hands were back on your hips, figure looming over you and piercing blue eyes staring you down with an expression of exasperated longing.

Before you got cold feet, you decided it best to take matters into your own hands. His stomach tensed under your palms as you placed them, pushing on his body until he took a step back. And then another, this time seasoned with a small noise of confusion.

"Bedroom's that way," you waved your head in the direction of the door, biting your lip at the eager way he immediately turned and, for the lack of a better word, towed you towards it.

Candlelight still danced in the twilight of your bedroom, the space warm and smelling divine. You reached for his hoodie, pulling it upward before the back of his knees hit the bed; blue fabric dropped at your feet the second Stephen landed on your mattress, hands flying up to your waist to steady himself. The simple white tee did nothing to hide his toned physique.

Your hands brushed the immaculately groomed beard, traversing his strong jawline before setting down at the juncture of his neck. You leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips, mesmerized by his face in the candlelight. Stephen was just like the sun, for staring at him for too long was dangerous.

"You beautiful bastard," you whispered against his lips, met with a resonating chuckle. Your fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's a new one," in retaliation, he bit down on your bottom lip, soothing the sting immediately afterwards by sucking the skin into his mouth and pulling you head-on into another passionate kiss.

Stephen abandoned the curve of your waist in favour of sliding his hands up, mapping the broad of your back and tracing his fingertips down the knobs of your spine. The t-shirt you wore did very little to shield your skin from the electric sparks that his touch brought to your skin. Rows and rows of goosebumps followed in it's wake.

You swore your brain short-circuited when he reached under your shirt. No amount of fantasy could have prepared you for the response of you body when Stephen traced the outline of your breasts, clever fingers immediately finding your nipples pebbled and standing at attention, begging for it as you were driven to push up and into his touch.

Lips migrated from your mouth to your neck.

"Someone's eager," the hot whisper tickled the shell of your ear before Stephen's teeth scratched the tender skin of your neck.

Defiantly, you pressed your knees further into his lap, coming to something unmistakably hard between his legs. The breath he was holding got stuck somewhere between his nose and his throat, erection twitching in his sweats.

"Yeah," your voice was scratchy, snark bleeding into a noise of approval as he squeezed one of your breasts, pinching the other's nipple just shy of painful.

Unclutching your hands from his shoulders was difficult, when you felt like you had to fight to remain in this plane of existence least your arousal shut down all your senses except for the ones needed to experience the torture of his touch. You could spend an eternity like this, in his arms, like a musical instrument in the hands of a prodigy, being expertly, effortlessly brought to a steady crescendo.

"Greedy, greedy girl," Stephen rasped as your hands slid down his chest, fingers and nails mercilessly raking down it and messing up his shirt. He used momentum to rid you of your own top, surfacing bleary-eyed and with toussled hair. "Gonna fuck all that attitude out of you. Isn't that what you need, huh?"

With an impish grin, he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, applying blissful suction.

Your hands roamed his chest, squeezed the tightly knit muscles of his shoulders almost vengefully. You caught his moan in your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet.

"I can name five better things for your mouth to do rather than talk smack." The impatience, the need you felt demanded a way out. You winced at how needy it made you sound.

Stephen scratched you nipple with his teeth, hiding a momentary grin between your breasts to surface flushed and smirking. His hands found your hips, pushing down your pants with ease, lifting your leg one after the other.

The moment his knuckles touched the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you shuffled in place - he was so close, almost at the apex, where moisture had left a wet spot on your underwear.

It didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Aww, you're already spreading your legs? Darling, I just touched the inside of your thigh and you're already presenting for me, huh?" Stephen mocked your wide-eyed wonder. His fingertips traced the outer seam of your panties, causing fine hairs to stand up all over your body. Finding you mum and defiant, holding your breath, he reached out a thumb to swipe right at the rapidly growing wet spot. "Showing off for me?"

Your full-bodied shuddering didn't escape the rapt attention of the doctor, either: his hawk's eyes watched you, documenting the conflicting microexpressions, your consideration to just giving in and your inherently stubborn nature.

"Stephen," you warned, threatening not sure what.

The man rubbed a few circles over your clit, delighting in your soft trembling, before placing a chaste kiss on your tummy. The energy between the two of you was electric; like the stand-still air before a storm.

You stumbled when he suddenly grabbed hold of your ass, pressing you into him ass he used his mouth, lips and teeth to mark the expanse of your stomach.

"You were saying, darling?"

You grabbed his hair, pulling it in retaliation. It was not fair how quickly he turned you into a mindless puddle of lust.

"You're an ass."

Stephen chuckled, using his larger form to pull you into him even further, forcing you to crawl onto your bed, only coming to a rest when his head hit the middle of your mattress and you were kneeling between his spread legs.

The outline of his cock in the dark grey sweats immediately drew your attention; it looked thick and long. You audibly swallowed the saliva that gathered in your mouth at the sight.

"None of that," he caught on sternly, pushing you higher up his body, until you were straddling his midsection. And higher, placing your core almost over his face. Your noise of confusion was met with a smug smirk. "You want to shut me up. Do your worst, baby."

There was little more to do that blink; in a second Stephen pressed his nose directly into the soaked gusset of your panties, taking an obscenely loud and indecently long breath. The sculpted appendage brushed your clit, sending little sparks deep into your pussy.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily sinking down, seeking more friction as you became hyperaware of the throbbing in your cunt.

"Nu-uh, keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby," his voice hoarse and slightly muffled, Stephen gripped the meat of your ass to grind you against his face, using his teeth to move your panties to the side. "Make a mess."

Fuck me up, was what you really heard. As soon as your bare skin came in contact with the roughness of his chapped lips and his beard, what thoughts remained quickly took the exit. Experimentally, you ground down, wincing, hearing the slick noises coming from your body.

"Fuck," you groaned through gritted teeth, gripping the man's shoulders for support. Having gotten a sample taste of him, you couldn't stop.

Stephen stuck out his tongue, eagerly lapping up what slick you produced, not caring about it dripping down his chin and glistening his cheeks. The increase in speed and desperation coming from you only egged him on.

"That's a good girl," the sorcerer honest-to-god moaned in between strokes. "You love it like this, don't you?"

"Yes," you rasped, chasing your fill of pleasure. His nose was positioned just right, catching onto your clit with every upstroke and brushing over your labia as you desperately fucked your sloppy hole onto his tongue. "So good."

The grin made an appearance once more; he held your eye, watching with rapt attention as your own vision drifted in and out of focus, swayed on the waves of pleasure.

You were sure his fingers on your ass were going to leave marks for days.

He was holding onto you as fiercely as you rode his face, blue eyes shamelessly documenting every bit of desire on your open face.

The tip of his tongue flicked around your cunt, dipping into the hole to collect the moisture and immediately diving back, over and over. You'd never been devoured so completely and it turned your legs to jelly. Your thighs shook, breasts heaved in rhythm with your hips.

Stephen winked, dragging your pretty much useless form over his face, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You eyes flew shut. The direct assault on your pulsating, sensitive clit was too much; you couldn't take it, torn between pulling away and putting more weight to allow yourself to finally get what you had been craving ever since stepping foot in the shower.

"Stephen, I want to come," you demanded, movements growing sloppier with each passing second.

"What's stopping you?" His innocent inquiry was overshadowed by more and more wet, slippery noises and satisfied groaning.

"It's-" a whine escaped you, thought process interrupted die to his wet beard dragging along your engorged labia majora, "I need more!"

As your bottom lip disappeared behind your front teeth, you could only blink in a lust-induced stupor as golden ropes entwined parts of your body. Suddenly, you found yourself staring up at Stephen, the familiar, soft fabric of your comforter under your back.

Lips shaking and face completely drenched, the sorcerer tore the magic binds, grinning dangerously at your prone form.

You swallowed, legs twitching around his waist. The rapid change in position gave you slight vertigo as blood rushed from your cunt back to your head.

"My, my, what do we have here?"

Stephen used a single finger to move stray hairs, that had been stuck to your clammy cheek, out of your face. The sorcerer's grin only grew as his eyes darted to your flexing throat.

"Aww, baby, I know you need to be filled up to come," he cooed, watching your lips part to take in a shuddering breath, "that little hole is practically begging for me to put something in it. Will you be good for me?" Eyes round and voice soft, Stephen had your full attention. "I know you want to be good for me."

You could do little more than blink, having been pushed further and further into mindless lust by the doctor's honeyed, filthy words. His eloquent speech patterns, wrapped in that deep, velvet baritone, had permanently elevated your standards for dirty talk in just two sentences. You dripped from his voice alone.

The thick, hard flesh of his cock slapped against your tummy, immediately forming a wet, sticky spot under the round, leaking tip.

You arched into him. "I'll be good," you mumbled, swallowing the last remnants of your pride.

"What's that?" He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, kicking off his pants completely, covering you with himself, trying to touch as much of you as physically possible. "Didn't hear you, baby."

"I'll be good for you," you looked up at him through your lashes.

The change in him was instantaneous. The angles of his face grew sharper than ever, lips pursed into a firm smirk. The glint in his eye was positively demonic as he leaned down to pepper your face with more light, airy kisses.

"If I had known before, that all it takes for you to be sweet is putting my mouth on your cute little pussy," he began to grind his hips slowly, angling his cock to hit the spot between your pubic bone and your thigh. "I woulda pulled up one of those patterned skirts you wear right in the Sanctum's kitchen and bent you over the the counter until your word vomit ceased completely."

Despite the cruel-sounding words and the attitude, you sensed no malice coming from the man above you. Your arms had wound around his neck, your hips clumsily attempted to match the pace of his rutting.

Stephen nuzzled into your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweat and smearing your own arousal all over. "You taste divine."

His confession had you take in a shuddering breath, mewling, as his cock slid right over your pussy, giving a touch of barely-there pressure over your engorged clit. Your hips had a mind of their own, chasing after him, fevered and yearning, core hungry and hollow.

"Stephen," your voice cracked with the force of need pulling you taut like a string.

He wasn't done talking yet, but the pace and force of his hips increased, now applying more and more friction to the outer parts of your cunt.

"I know, baby," he soothed, taking hold of your hand and placing his palms over them, leaning on his forearms next to your head. "I'll make it all better, all you have to do is ask. Beg, pretty girl, beg me and I'll give it to you."

Figures. It would be exactly like Stephen, to demand the impossible. You exhaled a slow breath through your nose, mustering up a miligram of dignity to stare the smug doctor down. You sure as hell didn't beg!

It was obvious he had expected some kind of pushback. His grin turned sadistic as his cock slid lower, brushing over your sopping entrance: he froze in place, keeping you at the tip of his cock, heat pouring off him in waves, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

In a split second decision, you attempted to wiggle your hips to get as much of him, as quickly possible.

"Nu-uh," he pulled away from the immediate wiggle zone. "You promised you'll be good," he reminded you, rubbing his damp facial hair, tickling you in the process. "Only good girls get to come on my cock. And you can be so, so good darlin'..." He trailed off, carefully pushing himself back into your space.

You evaluated your options, quickly and painfully coming to a realisation there was no other choice but to swallow the lump of pride and put some work into your own release.

"Please," you mumbled, cheeks ablaze. The words rolled off stiff and clumsy off your tongue, quiet in their novelty. "Please, fuck me."

"We're getting somewhere," his powerful thighs opened you up to him, cool air spreading over your heated sex, "you're being so good for me," another kiss landed over your parted lips, more breathless than the last, "now one more time, show me you mean it."

"Please, fuck me, Stephen," the force of your desire seeped into your words, finally breaking through the dam of embarrassment and trepidation. You mewled again, a high, soft noise, as the fat head of his cock sunk in an inch into your wet cunt.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted through gritted teeth as his eyes squeezed shut. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Slowly, Stephen slid another generous two or three inches in; about halfway through.

The muscles of your sex spasmed, accepting the intrusion and eagerly flexing around his cock, attempting to suck him in for all his worth. You felt every ridge and vein on his girthy, heavy cock, his face blurry in front of your eyes.

"Oh God," you uttered, sensing the gargantuan amount of restraint it took him to not just slide in: Stephen's arms trembled, tummy taut and tense.

As your body accepted the intrusion, he wasted no time in slamming his hips into yours, bottoming out with a single, powerful thrust. Stephen pulled back almost completely and forced his way inside again, allowing himself to enjoy the hot, snug grip of your cunt.

"My sweet girl," his voice little more than an unintelligible growl, his head dropped in a search for your lips. "I got you baby, I got you," sensing you teetering on the brink of overstimulation, he captured your mouth and shoved his tongue down your throat, uncaring about the guttural noises clawing their way out of it.

Stephen fucked you with languid, powerful thrusts that shook your bedframe and slid your body upwards as his cock nosed at the deepest parts of your cunt, a wet, sloppy noise echoing in the room every time he pulled away from you. Your lust flowed freely, soaking your thighs and his, causing your bodies to stick together.

He shifted his hips one way and another, groaning into the kiss with every noise you made, humming as they grew in volume.

And then your world briefly stilled. Your tummy clenched and pussy gushed as Stephen's cock touched a spot that had been often left neglected by your past partners; the scratch of Stephen's trimmed pubic hair brushing against your clit amplified the sensation tenfold, your pussy flexing around his cock.

"There we go," Stephen chuckled breathlessly, and shoved his cock right up against that spot again.

And again, and again, and again...

All you could do was keep your mouth open for the most needed oxygen to get to your lungs; quite literally, the man had stolen your breath away. Noises of intermediate volume left you on the exhales, but you paid them no mind, the sensation having had demanded your full attention. Eyes wide open, they stayed firmly on Stephen's flushed, kind face.

"You look so beautiful when you're about to come," the corner of his mouth lifted into a sheepish grin as he kept up the same even, brutal pace with his hips.

Shit, you realised. You really were about to come.

"S-Step-phen," you voiced your surprise with slurred syllables. "Doc, whas'.."

"Shh, baby," his smile grew. "Don't force it. Just let it happen. You'll feel so good, I promise," he punctuated the softness of his words with a kiss to the slack corner of your mouth.

You obeyed. Despite the aching, pulling desire, you choose to obey his words, letting go of the tension in your abs and hips. The relaxed state of your body allowed Stephen to settle in even deeper between your legs as they fell open, ravishing you; the good doctor had just the perfect cure for the tension you carried around all day, every day.

"That's my girl, you're doing so well for me, so precious, so sweet," the sweet nothings whispered into your ear was like taking small sips of nectar on a hot summer's day.

"Fuck-" you whisper-shouted, body immediately responding to the hold Stephen's words had on your mind.

It seized as your orgasm began: waves that rocked your entire being, starting as small contractions in the bottom of your cunt and spreading throughout your stomach, wave after wave of bliss, until it reached your toes and made them curl in utterly sweet agony. The tide was strong and high, sweeping you under the water and carrying you through the afterglow all with the help of Stephen's gentle, passionate words.

His hips has slowed down somewhat, the motion becoming more fluid in nature; thump-thump-thump of his heart pressed against your chest. He was everywhere, savouring your release just as much as you had enjoyed the supernovae of his skillful touch.

Words didn't come easy to you, but you tried nonetheless. "Stephen, please," you weren't sure what you were begging for. On one side, your sensitive cunt still throbbed and gushed; on the other, you longed to feel the man lose himself in you like you'd lost you mind in his arms just moments ago.

"That's my girl," he chuckled weakly, delicately gripping your hands and giving them a light squeeze. His cock slid out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing.

"Mmm," you protested weakly, limbs heavy as you attempted to reach out to him.

"I'm right here," Stephen tapped the top of your pubic bone frivolously, sitting back on his heels. The majestic curve of his cock glistened with your juices; it attracted your attention immediately and Stephen chuckled. "Staring is rude. Now come on, hands and knees."

Your eyes shot up to his face for a second before you looked away, willing your tired body to just cooperate. Lifting your arms and legs seemed like an impossible feat after the earth-shattering orgasm that Stephen had talked you through. One leg after the other, you slid down, rolling into your tummy and squirming at the wet spot right under it. It was all you: reduced to a mere leaky faucet in the sorcerer's presence.

Calloused hands gingerly pressed on your calves, raising your ass in the air.

You squirmed again, wide open for him to see, cold air hitting your sore, abused cunt and causing it to twitch.

A loud, shameless smooch was placed right on it by the man, followed by a long tongue sliding up and down your slit.

You whined, embarrassed and sensitive, shifting you weight away from his mouth as your back arched. It felt almost too much but the memories of that wide, nimble tongue still remained fresh and left you aching for more.

"I'm right here," Stephen patted your bottom. "I'm not gonna hurt you baby, okay? Tell me if it hurts."

His cock was nosing at your entrance once more; as you pushed back onto it, Stephen slammed his hips into yours, fingertips digging into your ass cheeks as he pulled them apart. You didn't need a mirror to know his eyes were trained on your cunt, the place were it hungrily swallowed the throbbing meat of his cock.

Eyes shut, you let your thoughts wander, examining the image in your mind's eye. The way his brow furrowed when he focused on something, smile lines more prominent than ever. Did Stephen bite his lip when he encountered something unexpected?

The bed shook with the force of his thrusts and you with it. Each one aimed well, deep and powerful, it made small, quiet noises leave your lips as his balls slapped harshly against your swollen clit.

"Ahh," your cunt spasmed as he found that spot again. You're were beginning to get sore, but it was a welcoming sort of pain.

"Shh, baby," Stephen panted, voice low and rugged. "I'm almost done. Just a little more, I know you can be good for me. So, so good..." He trailed off, topping it off with a low moan as he bottomed out inside your swollen cunt once again.

You swore your eyes rolled back in your head on their own accord. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your chest, hands gripping the bedsheets desperately and uselessly. Your mind was sluggish, barely comprehending the fact Stephen was using your cunt to get off: the idea felt so, so wrong, but you'd be a rotten liar if it didn't ignite another small storm in the pit of your belly.

"Arms behind your back," Stephen barked suddenly and you winced at how quickly you obeyed. Magic wound around your body once more, securing them into a position that allowed the sorcerer to tug you up: your knees firmly planted on the bed and your top half suspended at his mercy. "Just making sure you don't get lost in that pretty little head of yours," the amount of control this man had was unfair.

His cock kept up pace inside of you; you swore you felt it swell even the moment you mindlessly obeyed his command. The angle let him touch even more of you, both inside and out. You tasted the sweet, hot sweat of your coupling.

The string of magic tied to you was a lead in one of his hands. He eagerly dragged you onto his cock, over and over, the golden binds wrapped around your arms and chest like a straitjacket. A sexy straitjacket.

There wasn't much room for thought when all you could feel, sense and hear was Stephen: his sinful groaning, panting, the obscene sounds of your flesh slapping together. You thighs shook, spit collected in the slack corners of your mouth: you panted out, tongue stiff and uncooperative.

You wanted to feel him come, to fill you up completely, until you burst.

His movements turned sloppier and sloppier until his cock was disappearing into you at a rapid, disorganized pace, the bulbous tip sliding deep inside.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" the groan he emitted was so close to your ear, you felt it in your cunt.

Starts burst behind your eyelids for the second time as he throbbed inside your spasming cunt, your combined contractions echoing back and forth until the pit of your belly felt warm and full. Some of his cum leaked out immediately, dripped down your labia and down your leg.

Noisily, he let go of the binds and your combined bodies gracelessly crashed onto the bed.

You weren't sure how long you laid like this, warm and safe, full inside and out. Minutes went by lazily, stretching into what felt like eons. You floated above time, above space, lulled by gentle, low murmurs in your ear.

Trembling hands gently parted your legs as cotton brushed over your raw cunt. Noises of protest died on your lips as Stephen shushed you.

"Take it easy," he placed a kiss on your tailbone, doing his best to clean up the biggest part of the mess.

You haven't even noticed him pull out. "Wha?"

The bed dipped next to you, his red, grinning face slowly coming into focus. "You're thinking so loudly."

You weren't? Having thoughts wasn't anywhere on your to-do list in the nearest future. For once, your brain had ceased it's usual violent tapdancing and you could breathe freely, the burden of anxiety removed.

"You did so good for me, baby," Stephen looked so proud and happy, crow's feet around his eyes deep and hair sticking in odd directions, silver strands mixed with dark browns and chestnuts, dying candlelight adding golds and ambers into the view.

Even like this, he looked sinful. Like a fallen angel.

"You're so pretty," was what your brain came up with. You wanted to fall through the face of the earth as soon as the words left your mouth.

Stephen chuckled, placing a kiss on your nose, then one more on each cheek and a final smooch on your forehead. "Says you."

Embarrassed, you hurried to nod your head to hide in the crook of his neck.

"None of that," promptly, you were returned to be displayed to his clever eyes. "Stop overthinking."

"But-" you argued weakly.

"No," his finger, scarred and shaky, poked your nose in what only could be described as petty defiance. "You're not this dense. I know you can do better."

The angles of his face acutely on display, you weighed your options. It wasn't looking good for you: come morning, he'll be gone, odd display of affection pushed aside, and you'd return to work to once more be greeted by the stoic, sarcastic man who's hobby included insulting you for sport.

And as much as you hated admitting it, he was better than you in most things: sorcery, looks, accomplishments. Some people just had it going for them.

"You can do better," you frowned. "You're you, doctor Stephen Strange, surgeon extraordinaire and sorce-"

His lips landed on yours, chapped and puffy, swallowing any protests that your brain could come up with on the spot, leaving you no option but to surrender to the sweet torture of the kiss.

"No," his eyes caught yours, firm and fiery. "And if you don't know what's good for you, well, I'm going to have to show you. You did so good today, after all, and it would be a shame to waste all that potential." His grin turned wolfish.

Shame and arousal flooded your senses as you closed your eyes mutely, finally, finally convinced yourself that sometimes, giving in might be the better option.

Stephen Strange taglist:

@mikariell95 @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton @biiskuitx @heyarely16 @bdffkierenwalker @rosequartzwriting @auroralush @heart_charming @pshychadelichues @dilftallica @starkiller-queen @inas_thing @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lalaooopsie @brwn-sgr @altriestowrite @devilslilbabysblog @pervhotch @treegobonk @agathaharknesslut @persephonewritessometimes @endlessthxxghts @milena-xoxo @popeheywardssecretgf @inas-thing @fuckingarsonistbitch @pathetic-simp @sparrows-corner @turkisherlockian @srapalestina @sourlemonsandlimes @emlynblack @meeksmusic83 @chaoticevilbakugo @vane28282 @saturdaynightzemo @luminevans @danzalladaggers @viva-asgardia @sobeautifullyobsessed

#bun writes #dr strange smut #stephen strange smut #doctor strange smut #marvel smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #female reader #dr strange x you #doctor strange x you #stephen strange #i like his hoodie okay #im very into middle-aged dads

[geoledgy]

oh my god i love your art so much! what are some of your biggest inspirations?

Hi! Thank you so much :D It makes me so soooo happy to hear that!

I have a few inspirations for different things. In regards to backgrounds, my 3 big ones are all artists who worked on Hanna-Barbera cartoons (examples shown below, respectively in each row): Bob Gentle, Art Lozzi, and Monte (Fernando Montealegre)

I also really like Samurai Jack backgrounds, I am unsure of who all the artists that worked on the show art, but I can identify Scott Wills' works (he has a site btw)

Also the bg art style of My Life as a Teenage Robot (I don't know who the artists are for these though)

Character designs, I am heavily inspired by various character designs of Stephen Silver (mainly Clerks & Kim Possible)

Also My Life as a Teenage Robot, Clone High, Total Drama, Dexter's Lab, & Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy are some big ones for character design inspiration as well. (Also Hanna-Barbera designs)

My biggest inspiration in regards to my art as a whole and my principle on making art is pretty much just mid-century art (approx. 40s - 70s), which if you google, there is no single main style. There's similar style trends (simple, abstract, geometric shapes) but every artist is just experimenting with different tools and techniques which makes it really fun for me, with not having to worry about having a "consistent style" or whatever. Animation wise, I also like UPA's style but my pet peeve is everyone grouping mid-century styles as "UPA". School House Rock is another good one. Also various Soviet cartoons too.

I really like the works of mid century illustrators/graphic designers: Bernice Myers, Aurelius Battaglia, Jim Flora, Mary Blair, and Lou Peters among others.

Also love the works of Saul Bass, Alvin Lustig, and Paul Rand.

There's also these 2 illustrations in particular that I'm a huge fan of but am unsure who made it (unfortunately a lot of graphic artists during this time are uncredited or I can hardly find anything about them/other examples of their works):

I also like travel posters (David Klein in particular) and National Park posters made by the WPA

Thanks for asking! I always love to share my inspirations.

#asks #i love 20th century art and design so much ive taken so many courses in it and its history hehehehe........ #context is that the way people drew this way was partly due to tech limitations of the time but also embracing machines and the future #which is why a lot of it is geometric shapes

[bonearenaofmyskull]

Hey! Curious if you're currently into any great shows. If so, mind sharing your recommendations? Always on the lookout for some good TV suggestions!

I imagine you've seen everything I have. I spend more time gaming. Not into anything great at the moment, but I can dig deep and see if I can remember what shows I've watched since Hannibal aired and give my opinions. I binge TV series with my mom who is in her 80's and has Parkinson's and macular degeneration and can't really do activities or read anymore, so I rewatched some old ones with her here largely to torture her with them, so they'll be in here also.

S-Tier (Winners)

My Brilliant Friend. Probably the best thing I've watched since Hannibal. If S4 is out I haven't seen it yet, no spoilers.

Better Call Saul. Possibly tied with My Beautiful Friend. Better than Breaking Bad. Much better ending. So good, no complaints. Nailed the ending. Did I mention the ending?

A-Tier (Runners-up)

Black Sails: God, there were some parts of this that were so gratuitous and tedious, especially early on, and I hated Eleanor Guthrie and not in the kind of way that means good things for a show. Some of the dialogue was just really on the nose too. This sounds like a lot of complaints, but the things it did well, it did SO WELL that it really does make up for the negatives. The acting was sooooo good and the Flint and Silver dynamic was AMAZING and the show looked great, and over all that, it really had something thoughtful to say, and that stays with you when it's over.

Stranger Things: Some parts of this show hit better than others, but I'm squarely in the bullseye of the target audience and get the vast majority of the references and nostalgia, and I love David Harbour. I appreciate their exploration of various types of horror, attempting a new style each season, and I like the charm and humor and cheese, and it's a show that knows its voice and its tone and commits fully to those things. It's trying to be a fun show and it is, and it wants to deal with real fears and real grief, and it does.

The Handmaid's Tale: Speaking of shows that are committed to their tone, this one definitely is that. It's too heavy and relentless for most people, I think, but I don't mind that at all. Parts of it do drag, but it has a lot of the same qualities (for good or bad) as Black Sails: great acting, powerful character dynamics, the things that it does well it does so well it makes up for the shortcomings, imo.

Breaking Bad: Famous show, not much to say here. Rewatched it recently and don't think it's as good as Better Call Saul, so I put it here.

B-Tier (Can't complain but will anyway)

Good Omens: Can't get into it, can't find anything particularly wrong with it. I'm into the ship. I guffaw out loud while watching it yet am thoroughly bored most of the time. Love Michael Sheen and David Tennant on screen together. I know the show can't be that all the time but I wish it was. Aziraphale ftw. I feel like people missed the point of the ending of the last season.

Mad Men: Show could give Seinfeld a run for its money in terms of being about nothing, but definitely had its charm. Watched it with my mom so her nostalgia and appreciation for how historically authentic it felt went a long way. Good performances. God, it could be boring sometimes though.

Vikings: This one was a lot like Black Sails for me. They had a bit of a struggle for a season or two but once going, they really got going. Many great acting performances and characters. Loved Ecbert and Ivar especially. Didn't have Toby Stephens and Luke Arnold, so you know...can't quite make that tier. And didn't have as much to say, or didn't say it as well, and it doesn't stay with you.

C-Tier (Can complain and will, but were good enough to stick with)

LOST

The X-Files

His Dark Materials

Downton Abbey

BBC Sherlock

Game of Thrones (I think most people have misdiagnosed this show's problems, but it sure did have them)

D-Tier (Tried but could NOT, though many people will like these...they were just Not For Me)

Bridgerton

Dark

The Good Place

The Gilded Age

Outlander

The Crown

Outer Range (what even the fuck with this show)

I tried to think of more shows I've watched in this time, but this about sums it up. But here are a couple YouTube channels I really like:

Beau of the Fifth Column

Bistro Huddy

#bear answers #not hannibal

[thecryptidart1st]

I love your art style so much!! I've never seen anyone else that draws like you do. Were there any inspirations for it?

It's a great question when it takes me all day to gather pictures for it and I have to stop myself before I exeed the image limit on tumblr.

So to make this easier for myself, I focused primarily on media related to TV and the Internet (because you all know what videogames I like and the major animation studios are a whole seperate list onto itself)

But in summary on that end: these studios raised me

My earliest inspirations came from my grandma reading Calvin and Hobbes comic books to me, my parents allowing me to play Humongus Entertainment games on our PC (Putt-Putt, Pajama Sam, and Freddi Fish), and the beginning of preschool shows on Disney and Nickelodeon, primarily Blue's Clues and Rollie Pollie Ollie.

I just happened to grow up in the era where all 3 major networks for kids content were starting to hit their strides in making their own original content, so a lot of the cartoons I watched between 1999 - 2010 were in the 90s UPA revival style, championed through the art of Craig McCracken, Gennedy Tartakovsky, and Stephen Silver. (I will say though that Cartoon Network was my personal favorite).

With an honorary mention to WB Animation back when they had their own Saturday block:

(Xiaolin Showdown, What's New Scooby Doo?, Animaniacs)

Then came the introduction to mainstream anime in the west around 2006ish:

(Naruto, Death Note, Ouran High School Host Club, Panty & Stocking, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Look I'm not proud of Hetalia, but without it, things would've been different)

Which intertwined with the introduction of YouTube and the amount of flash animations and other video content I had uncensored access to:

(Eddsworld, Egoraptor, Mr. Weebl, Filmcow, AlbinoBlackSheep, various anime related memes and parodies, various anime abridged series (Little Kuriboh, Team FourStar)

Homestuck is here, not that I ever understood the plot of it, but mostly because I watched a LOT of tumblr ask dubs related to it and those made me want to start my own tumblr ask blog)

And as an adult from 2013 onward, I appreciated the old MTV cancelled shows, adult animation from Adult Swim, and a couple of animated shows from the post-live actiom era of Cartoon Network

(Clone High, Daria, Mission Hill, Undergrads, MTV's Downtown, The Venture Bros, Steven Universe & Steven Universe Future)

#stuff that inspires me #moodboards #answering asks #tv inspirations #internet inspirations #cartoon network #adult swim #disney channel #playhouse disney #nickelodeon #nick jr #wb kids #anime #old school youtube #mtv animation #calvin and hobbes #humongous entertainment #my art comes from cartoon network #but my sense of humor comes from the internet

[eirian]

a couple style exercises for my portfolio! i went with the owl house and a redo of my gargoyles test from stephen silver's schoolism class i took a while back :)

#character design #concept art #style study #gargoyles #the owl house #doodlysketch