[ SECRET POST #4253 ]

[case]

⌈ Secret Post #4253 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 02 pages, 41 secrets from Secret Submission Post #609.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Comments

Recs

[(Anonymous)]

Because I'm lazy and don't feel like shlogging through AO3, can someone rec me some Stephen/Cloak or Stephen/Tony, or even Stephen/Tony/Cloak fics pleeeease~?

Re: Recs

[(Anonymous)]

Throughout his horny teenage years, Stephen Strange had never once spared a single thought for all the crusty socks he'd jerked off into. It'd just never occurred to him - they were there for his pleasure, to be discarded under the bed when he'd had his filthy way with them. That might've been a selfish error in judgment, he thought belatedly. He regretted it now, because now Strange believed he knew how they'd felt...


It had started off innocently enough. Indulging in a middle of the afternoon nap wasn't really his style, but he'd had a tough week and by god, these 800 count Egyptian cotton sheets from Bed, Bath and Beyond were uh-MAAAAY-zing. Because of course he was gloriously nude. You really hadn't lived, thought Strange, until you've felt crisp, clean folds of Egyptian cotton gently flossing your taint.

That idle musing, sealed his fate. Well. That and the daydream he'd had where Natasha and Pepper were nude pillow fighting on one of Stark's private jets. Nubile bodies glistening with Cristal and sevruga caviar, nips standing to attention and shaved pussies like ripe peaches. Fuck yeah, thought Strange. That Pepper. She bosses Stark around like a dominatrix but I bet she likes it in the ass, with hair-pulling and dirty talk. I bet she's a naughty little girl who'd like to be put over daddy's knee and have that prim mouth of hers full of daddy's cock...

Strange always woke up with some standing timber, but now the sequoia in his pants was throbbing like an intra-aortic balloon pump. He rolled over in bed. The Cloak of Levitation was draped over a nearby chair, like it usually was when he slept. He reached out and tugged the hem sharply. The Cloak didn't stir, so he tugged it again, harder this time.

"Hey!" he said loudly. "Hey, wake up." When the Cloak sprang to life, Strange gestured to his magnificent trouser snake. "Do something about this, will you?"

The Cloak moved... almost sullenly. It didn't care for this aspect of their partnership, but it always cooperated. A soft fold of fabric wrapped itself around Stephen's rock hard fuck stick and began stroking up and down, up and down.

In his fantasy, Natasha (the Natasha with the long, curly red hair, natch) was demonstrating an astonishing amount of flexibility as she straddled a 16th century Louis XIV chair. "Stephen," she moaned, spreading her creamy white thighs wide, "I need you so bad..."

"Nnrrghhhh..." muttered Strange. "Work it, you Commie slut. Ride that dick like a stolen pony."

The Cloak caressed his cock, trailing one corner teasingly down his thigh. Strange was close, so close... which is probably why the Cloak chose that moment to strike. Before he knew it, it'd curled one unforgiving fold around his ankle and flipped him facedown on the bed, flattening him to the high quality memory foam mattress with a surprising strength. He strained to back over his shoulder and to his dismay, the Cloak was... twirling itself. The fabric bunched and twisted into a shape not unlike a unicorn horn. Then it dipped gently into the open tub of vaseline on the nightstand.

"Look, just let me up and we'll forget all about this, okay?"

Strange struggled in vain, but it was no use. The Cloak's cloth-dick poked him firmly the small of his back, spreading his man-cheeks aside like an ancient monk opening an arcane book of lore. Without hesitation, it thrust deep into the heart of Strange's brown eye, tearing from him a high-pitched yelp.

For the next fifteen minutes, Dr. Strange was pounded in the ass by his own Cloak, its silken folds hammering away at his One Ring like a fashion accessory possessed. And Stephen... liked it. He wasn't sure he would at first, but before long his rosy flagpole was harder than ever and he found himself raising his pasty rump higher into the air.

"Oh gooooooooooooooood yes!" he screamed. "YAAAAAASSSSSSSSS UGGGGHHNNNN HARDER DADDY HARDEEEEEEER I'M CUMMING I'M CUMMING OHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!!!"

When he came, he came with a scream that could be heard in several other dimensions and a hot gout of of cum that left a small, sticky pond on his expensive sheets. Satisfied, the Cloak gave one sharp flick to his left buttock that was so hard it would surely leave a welt, and fluttered away. The room grew dark. Stephen Strange slept the deep sleep of a man who'd had his world thoroughly rocked.

Hours later when he awoke, there was a note on his chest with a few suspicious brown smears on it. He raised it to his eyes with a shaking hand. It read:

Don't ask others to do for you what you're too lazy to do yourself

Re: Recs

[(Anonymous)]

That was an awful lot of effort for 'fuck off you lazy cunt'.

Do you respond to all rec threads with this much venom?

Re: Recs

[(Anonymous)]

Nah, it took me like ten minutes and it was a lot of fun. No venom, just teh lulz. I didn't think anyone would take it personally because I mean... look at it.