#sinister strange is into blood and choking and everything rough you cant change my mind

[izepeche]

Don’t You Know, You’re Life Itself - Chapter 1 | Sinister!Strange x Fem!Reader | izepeche

Pairing: Sinister!Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader with Powers

A/N’s: This is a long one mainly due to backstory, I finished this 4 days ago actually, Im sorry it is taking so long i am a newbie and English is hard. Anyways, enough excuses. As you can see from the warnings, this is slightly darker and is 18+. Just letting you know so there's no surprises. After all, if you are thirsting for Sinister Strange, you probably expect/want this creepy sorcerer to break you. Reader does get their shit rocked in this fic (most of you have read the excerpt), Sinister Strange is an Unhinged Bastard and I love him the way he is (and I hope you do, too).

Honorable Mention: @couldntbedamned made a comment on one of my posts and it inspired me to continue writing this whole fic, so shoutout to them!

no beta, tired, probably gonna be some errors, yk how it goes.

Warnings/Tags: Dark!Sinister!Strange, Slow Build- Up Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Minor Spoilers for DS MoM, Canon Divergent- this story is my own, Mentions of Mental Anguish, Toxic Family & Relationships, Identity Issues, Manipulation, Fighting, S/M themes, Minor Blood/Kink, Stalking, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Dumbification, Dub-Con Elements, Oral, Light Restraints, P in V, Fingering, Biting, (one) Whipping if you squint, Size Difference, just general kinky unhinged sexual content

Chapter 1- Word Count: 4.5k+

Synopsis: You go to Sinister!Stephen Strange for help with your powers, against your better judgment. He is all the more happy to oblige you in your time of need. Deep down you know you shouldn’t trust him, nor do you know why he's so eager to help. But you have no one else to turn to, and his charming smile puts you at ease… too bad it's all for show.

Prologue:

 He’d stumbled in the dark before meeting you, after losing Christine he’d lost any hope that happiness was something he was ever meant to possess. The day he saw you, felt your presence, it filled his chest like he’d just breathed air for the first time. It ignited, burned within, smoldered into something darker, something he should have let die. Losing Christine was a blow to him, broke him, shattered him. He didn't want to be healed, fixed, pitied; he just wanted to feel- God, anything, again. To possess something, or rather someone- he ached for it. 

Even if it wasn't love you two would ever share, he was utterly consumed with the idea of having you, keeping you for his own. It was wrong, deep down the old him would know it was wrong, but that Stephen Strange was dead (and so were many others). He didn’t- he couldn’t- shake the obsession, you were the wicking flame, the life in the hollow soul he’d destroyed. Besides, how could he not want you, when you were just so… perfect.

(CHAPTER 1) The Right Time

It was an autumn evening, and you were invited to the unveiling of a new wing of the hospital you completed your nurse residency at. It was also your graduation, and the cool energized air that settled over the city was fitting for the elation of new opportunities that lie ahead of you and your peers. You arrived shortly after 6:30, the orange sun setting at the skyline and sprawling shadows from tall buildings grew across the city. With a VIP pass in hand you entered the City Hall, awaiting the ceremony that was abuzz with people.

-

 Strange had become a bit of a recluse, guarding the Darkhold and wandering the Sanctum was not always something many would call ‘fun’. In a rare bout of wanting to be outside and needing to feel a sense of fulfillment, even if it was by proxy; was enough to spur him out. It was also likely a certain red haired woman would be there, and he didn’t spare chances to see her. He scrummaged around for that suit, ah, the one he wore to a variant Christine’s wedding (after killing that Strange, and taking his place). He dressed himself in the matching black jacket and pants with a copenhagen blue button down with crimson buttons. He fumbled with a slim black tie, huffed a frustrated breath through his nostrils before letting his magic get the knot right. He quickly styled back his dark hair, slicking greying hairs behind his ears and leaving a few black strands to swoop onto his forehead.

He took the Darkhold as he exited the Sanctum, latched it to his leather belt with a lock, and used a spell to conceal it from view. 

 Strange arrived from an amethyst portal ring under the cover of navy night and shadow, the outside lanterns of the City Hall emitting an inviting orange light. Following a couple ahead of him, he walked past the guards and bouncers and in among the crowd and glow of the hall. It might have been people’s general fear of him that allowed him easy entry, he really shouldn’t have came; but (frankly,) Stephen couldnt be fucked to care. He wasn't there for trouble, and if they weren't going to mess with him, he could actually enjoy his night out without unnecessary death. Besides, the guards and officers wouldn’t dare try to stop him, not after what had happened last time.

He squinted at the intense bright lights of the hall and tried to find a place to watch from that didn’t wasn’t so vastly overlit. Whether it was his strained eyes or the cold air, oh it didn’t matter- he could feel a headache coming on. Fan-fucking-tastic. He approached the open bar and got a ridiculously full glass Merlot from a nervous young bartender, just something to take the edge off. The older man sipped while holding eye contact, ‘mmh not the best’, and the guy nearly stumbled to refill him again and then hurriedly attended to another patron. Turning from the counter, Strange took another small sip and scanned the area.

 There was a staircase lined the walls under a balcony. It was dark, under the shade of the upper levels, with not many people to bother him. Perfect. He made his way over in long strides. Shadow fell over him and he instantly felt better, more at home. As he made his way up the stairs he passed a few higher ups; officials, doctors, representatives of the medical board-  all too frightened to look his way. Many of them who knew him, at one time, even trusted him. The various guards who sandwiched them or led them away were apprehensive towards Stephen but didn’t engage. Christine wasn’t among them. ‘For once they learned from their mistakes’, Strange thought, though if he wanted to he could find her, easily. But tonight he vowed to keep things light, enjoy the classical pieces coming from the set up speakers and immerse himself in the late Gothic Revival architecture.

One guard approached, a brawny blond haired man with blue eyes, refusing to let him go past the middle to the upper levels. Strange stood there a moment, glaring at the familiar face; a silent challenge that made the bodyguard clench his fists in anticipation. The Sorcerer breathed out something akin to a chuckle and perched himself against the railing of the indoor balcony. The guard lingered for a moment before breathing a sigh and continuing downstairs.

Strange was quite high up and had a clear view of the space below. In the center were a row of chairs in front of the podium, and an excited younger crowd was being swarmed by a larger one, onlookers and bystanders alike waiting to converse with them. Cameras flashed and a few reporters zig zagged among the people, microphones in their hands and cameramen in tow.

Strange kept to himself and was now a bit out of practice with acting cordial towards people, but he did miss going to formal events, even if it was just for the atmosphere and the music. The people were a bonus if they stroked his ego, but usually offered nothing more in the way of conversation and he’d quickly lose interest. Christine was always better at those things.

The taste of the wine became bitter, and he swallowed harshly after he took a sip. Just then something washed over him, like he’d been ungrounded, like he’d just stepped off an escalator and had to find footing. He looked incredulously at his glass, now half empty. He wanted to take the edge off, not get a fucking hangover. Strange wanted to follow that train of thought back downstairs, to that bar, to have a strong word with that little shit-

Another wave ebbed into him, fuzzy warmth distracting him from his violent contemplations, and he became aware that it wasn't from something any alcohol could create.

 It was an energy, pulsing and tugging at him. It made him tense up; this aural experience was so gentle and oddly comforting. The silken brilliance engulfing him, it was addictively foreign, and he just couldn’t ignore it. Inquisitively he searched around the large lobby below, feeling the signature increase and spike inside his chest.

-

You emerged from the bathroom, hands becoming instantly clammy at seeing the impressive crowd. A few people in nice suits and fancier dresses than yours took a glance in your direction, and a rush of anxiety went through you. You went to fumble at the name badge a friend had helped place on your dress, and one of your peers stopped you.

“Don’t take it off silly. How else will they recognize you?” They motioned to the crowd with your peers scattered about, lights flashing among their silhouettes. They were all smiles, posing, answering questions, and overall flourishing in the attention. 

“That’s kinda the point.” You mumbled, low enough for them not to hear in comparison to the roaring crowd. You removed it anyway and put the badge in your small purse, much to the annoyance of your fellow alumnus.

You were overwhelmed. You didn’t do well in crowds, at all. In fact, you had tried to request that you be omitted from attending this ceremony, ‘can’t they just mail me the plaque or something’, but the director of the program, a certain red headed woman, wouldn't allow it. Christine personally came to see you, big bright eyes pressing you for a reason as to why. ‘Can I say I’m planning to be sick, miss’ was all you could say. Her eyebrows came up and she quirked her head to the side with a smile and begged you to attend.

“If anyone deserves to be in that hall to accept their certificate and award, it's you,” she’d said with a kind hand on your shoulder.

 She would have gone on to shower you with records of your accomplishments, not only your impressive test scores, but also testimonies of the doctors you shadowed and the patients you had helped. The residency was probably the hardest you’d ever worked at anything, it was the once in a lifetime opportunity to work with some of the top medical professionals in New York. The program was also heavily sponsored by Stark Industries, so the sky was the limit when it came to connections and growth opportunities. 

During your nurse residency people took notice of you, you weren’t exactly the most knowledgeable or most prestigious of the class; but they found your impeccable bedside manner extraordinary. You were approachable, kind, and pretty much every time you interacted with your patients they instantly felt better.

Noone knew that it was because of your special abilities that you excelled; and you felt like a fraud.

 Christine believed in you, and it broke your heart a little every time she complimented you. She could have gone on to the point of embarrassing you about your work; she’d done it before in front of the class and you swore you wanted nothing more than to jump out the nearest highrise window. You didn’t let her get to that point again though, the confrontation from someone you admired so much alone made you fold like a deck of cards.

That night, you tried to be different; ‘come on, socialize, it's my big night’, you thought. Your heart strumming in your chest, you approached the crowd, allowing it to swallow you into the frenzy of people. The cacophony of voices, camera and phone flashes made you instantly regret even thinking about coming out tonight. You tried to make your way towards the row of seats, to which a chair with your name on it was attached, hoping to beeline it there. Okay, maybe you weren't that different than before, but hey at least you were here. 

You gave a few weak smiles and waves to people who caught your eye, your fingers immediately going back to fidget at your pass, running over the smooth cool surface of the card. Just before you could make it to your seat, a group of your peers in front of flashing cameras caught your attention. Among them was one of your closest friends. You both had applied for the prestigious residency program 3 years ago, mostly on a whim, and now you had both graduated. You couldn't help your smile and almost cried seeing them, getting the recognition they deserved; now clad in a well fitted pants suit- all white and all smiles. You would have preferred to have worn a suit as well, but your family forbade you from wearing one. It was a bit stupid in hindsight, because they didn’t even attend the event. You got to choose your own dress though, picking a rich concord turtleneck column gown from an assortment of dresses that were passed down to you. You liked classic styles, they fit your frame well and ‘highlighted your inner sophistication’ or whatever bullshit your friends would tell you to get you out the door, and admittedly you did look great that night.

Seeing you, your friend’s mouth opened in a gasp and waved you over. They were standing in a break in the crowd, the group of reporters with their assorted cameras and lights turning to you. You hesitated a moment before taking another step into the clearing, a quick flash from one of the cameras made your vision go white. You put a hand to your eyes and only more flashes flooded your vision, stunning you. A familiar concerned voice joined in with excited professional ones and you felt that dangerously strong aural force weld up inside you. Everything was too much, your chest heaved, and you knew if you didn’t do something it would be disastrous. You felt that familiar painful surge like you were about to be ripped apart-‘ oh no, no not now!’, and in an instant you turned away from the glaring lights and rushed into a line of people and towards the seats. You could barely see, a high pitched and painful ringing in your head making it difficult for you to want to open your eyes fully. Back in the crowd your friend rolled their eyes, shaking their head before trying to get the attention of now distracted and annoyed reporters.

 A guard tried to stop you, a tall, blond haired man, but you flashed him your VIP pass and continued on to your seat. You plopped down, head in your shaking hands, the ringing in your ears only interrupted by your labored breaths. 

You sat for what felt like an eternity, rubbing your sensitized eyes behind your closed eyelids. The lights dimmed, and calming music brought you back into the hall. You felt the vibration from a frustrated plop of someone in the chair next to you. From the irritated sigh that followed you realized it was your friend. You didn’t look at them, and they didn't bother to say anything to you. You sat there in silence, feeling guilty for possibly embarrassing them in front of the press. You were just sensitive, in weird ways, especially since your powers started to manifest. You pride yourself on being able to mask how you feel, gauge your reactions, because you don't want to be a burden. But still, on this important night you couldn’t keep it under wraps. 

The melody playing brought you away from your thoughts. It swirled in your head, it was lovely, lolling you back into calmness. Music always made you feel better, it was often the only remedy that would help you de stress after a painful aural flare up. This tune was familiar, a rendition of Nocturne L.82, and you couldn’t help but feel cheery as it continued to play.

People quieted and situated themselves in their seats. Someone spoke, sounding important from the podium; but the music continued to play over the speakers quietly and that's all you wanted to hear. Christine was invited to speak, and you tried to pay more attention then. She congratulated the class, observing your peers and when she came to you she gave you a wink, then continued on with her speech. You clapped when everyone else did, and one by one you saw the people next to you get up and disappear around the edge of the platform. You breathed out a sigh and stood when it was your turn.

-

Stephen scanned the hall below, certain that what he felt was coming from something, maybe even someone. He saw a small figure emerge into a small opening in the crowd. He saw you, clad in a mauve column gown, the velvet material shimmering and cascading down your frame. Even from the distance he was drinking you in, your elegance, your form, better than any wine they served at the function. He zeroed in more, curious. As if for confirmation another rush of energy hit him, and he made his way back down the way he came, still eyeing you. As he made the trek down he was pushed back against the wall, nearly dropping his glass as he staggered back.

He quickly corrected himself and ran down the stairs, determined that something was amiss and the woman he was eyeing had something to do with it. He cleared the landing, bounding around the corner of the stairwell and into the crowd. Pushing past bystanders and fussy reporters, he finally saw you through the silhouettes. The complaining of a persistent newscaster tailing behind him made Strange roll his eyes; he didn’t have time for this. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and time slowed to a crawl. He set his glass on an invisible surface and watched intently.

Narrowed cerulean eyes met your form, frozen in the bright light, hand shielding your eyes, though he could see your face through your fingers that you looked frightened and in pain. The nagging in his chest deepened, making the muscles in his neck tense, feeling it radiate from the person before him. Inquisitive, he brought closed fists across his chest and released it outwards, expelling his magic and uncovering the aural spectacle. A white bubble pulsated around you, distorting the air and expelling waves of energy. The sphere seemed to wrangle and twist ferociously, spiking outwards as a force was trying in vain to reel it in.

 “Yikes, that looks painful,” was all he could think to say, examining the slowed scene in awe.

It was quite the large amount of force at play, and was one of the most interesting manifestations of aural powers he’d ever seen, in fact. It was obvious by your intense straining that you lacked experience in controlling your abilities. He couldn’t blame you, it looked like a lot to handle, and you were quite the little thing. It wouldn’t necessarily be something to be ashamed of, it took him quite some time and countless hours of studying to expertly wield his own magic. However, any amount of power; let alone something of this magnitude, can be dangerous, deadly, in an inexperienced one’s hands.

‘I could control this, with enough examination and time, of course’, he thought, rubbing practiced fingers in his palms, feeling the satiny aural fabric slipping through them. ‘Control…you’. His fascination didn’t stop with your unwieldy powers. His gaze went from the psionic sphere back to you, taking in the marvelous display that fed the sorcerer’s wicked imagination. Icy eyes slowly examined you, your hair, your eyes, your lips, the shape of your body. You seemed so powerless, fragile, helpless to the wild powers that inhabited you. So… pathetic, so perfect. Oh, he’d have you. He had to, such a glorious creature hidden in plain sight could be for no one else.

A camera’s flash went off, causing the sphere around you to displace an angry heat, close to rupturing as it seemed to tear, and you turned, dress shimmering as your legs carried you away. Even in slow motion, he noted that your reflexes were still quite fast.

He waved his hands closed, concealing your psionic magic, snapped, and the scene resumed; you rushed away into the crowd of people. He smirked to himself, before turning to see that same damn reporter with a mic outstretched to his face and a camera pointed at him, rambling about ethics and his first appearance in public since yada yada yada. His annoyance bubbled, he was never one to play PR man, especially with the charlatans that worked for the press. He’d rather be more direct, an eyebrow twitch sent him into dark thoughts; he could get rid of every useless, sniveling reporter in all the damn multiverse-

“Reel it in, Strange- got things to do. Killing someone tonight won’t help-“

“Excuse me?” Said the woman.

To give him credit, he didn't think he was saying that out loud.

 A twist of his hand and he corrupted all devices around him, bricking phones and destroying any footage, camera lights rupturing. Confused voices erupted from the crowd.

“Oops, did I do that?” he quipped, grabbing his floating glass and walking past the dumbfounded reporter and her cameraman and away towards the bar. 

He sat and stared into the empty glass in thought, not even acknowledging the bartender anxiously waiting to serve him. The spells he used made it so that others wouldn’t have seen your powers, but he didn't need to draw unnecessary attention to himself, and especially to you. He contemplated leaving, but after all the core unveiling hadn’t even started, and he didn’t even know your name. The red wine poured into his glass by trembling hands. He raised a hand to stop the now white-as-a-sheet bar guy, and took a sip, looking into the scarlet liquid as it disappeared into his mouth. It still wasn't good, but discovering you made it taste sweeter, and he savored it before swallowing. The sorcerer’s mind busied in depravity, fostering a plan that made him lick at his upper lip unconsciously; wondering how he’d get such a pretty bird to wander into his cage. Stephen noted that you held a VIP pass in one of your hands, so it is possible that you were one of the graduating alumni of the residency program.

The lights dimmed, casting the hall in a deep ultramarine that calmed his aching eyes. A distant tune played a piece he immediately recognized, and the chatter of the hall died down. The person at the podium spoke, unveiling the new wing of a hospital Strange had once walked the halls of. Strange was lost in the now midnight color of the Merlot, tracing a long index finger slowly along the glass’ smooth lip, too gone in his own thoughts to really concern himself with the details of the speeches doctors and the other professionals gave. Christine’s voice woke him out of his daydream, and he tipped the bartender, walking off with the almost empty glass up the stairwell. 

 The new wing of the hospital became dedicated to the city of New York and the hall erupted in clapping and cheering. Stephen arrived at his original spot and he paid keen attention. Normally he would anyway, it was Christine after all, but he was more focused on something else. She announced the names of the class alumni, one by one shadowy figures stood from their seats and around the stairs up to the lit platform. Each person stepped onto the platform, cameras flashing as she handed them plaques and papers and gave respective handshakes before they walked off to the other side. 1,2,3,4..7 people and still no sign of you. He could still feel your presence, gradually feeling tension build in his chest, so he knew you had to be up soon.

You emerged from shadow, now cast in an ethereal blue light as you hurriedly strutted towards Christine. Though he couldn’t see it from way up there, he could feel trembling within the energy waves tickling his chest.

 “Poor thing, you’re shaking like a nervous puppy,” he husked to himself. Pitiful. God, he wanted you so badly it made his cock ache in his slacks. He almost wished he could slow down this moment and go down onto the stage; offer you a sip of his own drink to ease you. Watch as the red wine slipped between your plush lips, observe how they pressed against the glass as he guided it to your mouth. 

But he knew that he’d want to do more than just that. 

And he couldn’t, not yet. He was a gentleman, after all.

Christine read out your name, and Stephen couldn’t help but grin, actually grin, for the first time in what felt like ages. He took an indulgent sip, finishing the wine as she passed you your plaque and degree papers. She gave you a pat on the hand and mouthed words before you bowed your head and walked off the other side of the stage.  

Stephen approached an attendant with a platter and gave them his empty glass, and with a new plan hatched in his head he strutted down the stairs, past the bar, and out the hall. His fingertips glossing over his lips as they lingered on your name, rolling it around lazily as he continued down the City Hall steps, the warm glow of the outer lanterns leaving him. He undid his cufflinks, removing his jacket and folding it onto his arm as he turned the corner. Feeling the night air against his skin and through his black and silver hair electrified him, made him aware once again of his member prodding his thigh. He walked down the street, passing under orange street lamps before he came to a shorter road with no passersby. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dark top to his navel before opening a violet portal and stepping into his chamber room.

He thought about you the rest of that night, shedding his evening clothes in a haze, and while he was in the shower, his thoughts deepened. Hot steam rose around him, water running through wet salt and pepper hair, down his neck and across his broad shoulders. Warm droplets flowed down his strong back and trail down his muscled arms to veiny forearms and hands. The silence only interjected by the rushing water; the older man imagined it’s you there with him.

Addictively soft touches down the front of his broad chest to his abdomen and up and down his back muscles, and he shivers, broad hand pressed on the wall to steady himself as he ruts into his hand. Gentle touches turning into harsh grasps and little fingernails desperate to leave crescent marks on his skin. Flashes of your face, eyes in a silent plea as he bites into your tender flesh, fervently licking over the marks and savoring the taste of you, then his hands wrapped around your neck. His head is down, eyes closed in bliss, heavy cock in hand and he swears he’s never been this hard before. 

Just the idea of you in his mind, the shape of your gorgeous body and those soft lips on him, forming his name, screaming it, was enough to push him over the edge. He shuddered under the cascading water as husky breaths escaped his lips, reverberating off the walls as he came. He came onto the shower wall, all over his hand; and he cursed himself, and you, for how his member pulsated, still aching for more. But he practiced restraint, bottled it, for now, ignoring his half erection as he finished cleaning up and shoved on his night garments.

Stephen slept heavier that night, the cocktail of the alcohol in his system and the midnight air blowing from the window and over him refreshingly cool after his burning satiation. Not that it was enough, nothing will ever be enough when it comes to you.  That wouldn’t be the last time he’d see or dream of you. You were his little secret, and to time indefinite he’d vowed to keep you.

End Chapter 1

Extended notes: Whew, this was challenging to get down. Hopefully my PC wont give me problems anymore because I nearly cried rewriting this after doing so by hand during lunch breaks. The horny bits made up for it though I will admit (more of that to come ;). Also, writing Sinister!Strange with a more subtle vampiric side to him is just ✨ chef’s kiss to me.

Chapter 2 will probably be up in the next 3-4 days because I don’t wanna overload you all and I’m sleep deprived. Chapter 3 (and perhaps beyond) in the next week. I’ll try to do shorter ones in the future. Maybe even requests? Not sure yet, I'm still very rusty and I am nowhere near the level I want to be, especially when it comes to smut.

I appreciate all the love you guys have been showing me, being patient, especially with the comments and reblogs. I read them when I’m stumped and it really helps. As someone who is dyslexic, its really encouraging to see so many notes on my fic related things. You guys are awesome, seriously.

#sinister strange #stephen strange #doctor strange #dsmom fic #mcu #strange x reader #dr strange fic #dr stange smut #dr strange x fem!reader #possessive strange will be the death of me #idk why i made him vampiric but it is hot #just me? #sinister strange is into blood and choking and everything rough you cant change my mind