#Stephen Strange x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bimrwolf · 8 months ago

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Sex with a Ghost

stephen strange x reader words: 11,583 warnings: minors DNI, smut, will they wont they, commitment issues, sex sex sex summary: Stephen and you have a strange relationship. A casual friendship turned into a casual affair. Your heart takes a different turn concerning the superhero. You learn the hard way of his lack of emotional intelligence. a/n: this is an old fic i wrote..... decided to put it on my blog... pls ignore me. im trying to get over benedict i really am...this is 2 years old pls forgive me

His rough long fingers traced your bare skin as your back pressed against his stomach. Your hair was a tangled mess that fell in front of your eyes. A giggle escaped your lips when you felt him pull your hair out of the way so his warm cupid bow lips could find their way beneath your ear. You had just woken up after an… eventful night to say the least.

You hadn’t seen Stephen Strange in a few weeks. You weren’t upset or anything. It was your arrangement the pair of you had. One of you had a bad day? You could call them. One of you had one of the best days ever? You would call them. If one of you was incredibly horny… well you get the picture.

Last night, Stephen hadn’t called you for any of those things. You were a bit shocked to hear from him considering the last time you were together ended in an argument. But when you answered the phone he talked to you like nothing had happened. Like he had never told you he never wanted to see you again. You had to bite your lip when he sputtered out that he needed your help.

You were going to tell him to suck a fat one and fuck off, but when he sensed you were about to hang up the phone, “Y/n, please.” The begged tone that came out of his mouth made you shiver. It seemed like as soon as you hung up the phone you were at his door. It didn’t take long for his problem to be long forgotten and he had you bent over a desk, hands on your hips as he took long thrusts inside of you.

You didn’t exactly remember how things began between you. You were roommates with Christine in University and introduced the pair to one another. You didn’t even have feelings for him until years after they had broken up; however, it was clear the two still had feelings for each other. It was when Stephen came back from the blip that things had been different. Christine had met someone, and they were serious. He had shown up to your apartment, asking you a million questions about Charlie until you had enough of it and kissed the former surgeon to make him shut-up. You found yourself sprawled on your couch with your sundress hiked up and hands clenching Stephen Strange’s hair as he devoured you.

You flipped over so you could look at the dark haired blue eyed man. His hand returned to your torso, his thumb massaged into your skin. “I missed you.”

A lump formed in your throat when he said this. He didn’t mean it. He never did or he would make more of an effort to see you. You weren’t sure how to respond. You had missed him too, but you couldn’t help but still feel the wound he left in your heart the last time he saw you. You already felt weak enough that you slept with him.

His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed the look on your face. “Y/n, about last time-”

You kissed his lips softly. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“But you should know-”

“Stephen, it’s okay. We don’t have to bring it up.” You nipped at the soft spot of his neck. You smirked when you heard a pushed back groan from the back of his throat. You continued to trail nips and kisses down his body. You would occasionally look up to see his reaction but his face was stoic. You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness. It didn’t matter though, because his hard member told you that he was enjoying it.

You climbed on top of the superhero and stretched so that he could get a good view of every curve before him. Stephen bit his lip as his hands trailed up and down your thighs. “Y/n.” He begged. You felt him twitch, as he tried not to devour every inch of you.

The sun started to bleed through his curtains. The beams shone on his face, his sharp cheekbones glowed. You couldn’t help but be in awe of the magnificent man underneath you. You loved him. Your eyes pricked with tears. Those words infiltrated your head again. It was unwanted like ants at a picnic. You took a deep breath as you pushed yourself off of him and got out of the bed. “I have to go.”

Stephen was confused. He hoisted himself up with his elbow as he watched you try to find your clothes that were scattered around the room.

“You said last night you didn’t have anything to do today. Hence why you stayed over.”

“Um, yeah. I forgot. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah.” You groaned. Where the hell was your shirt?

“Y/n, does this have to do anything with-”

“Oh my God, Stephen. Can we please just drop it? I don’t want to talk about it.” You snapped.

“But Y/n, you said you love me.”

Right. It wasn’t a secret. The last time you were together, you were making coffee for both of you. He made a joke you have forgotten by now, because you only remember the embarrassment of letting those cursed words roll off your tongues as you laughed.

He stared at you for a moment before standing up to walk away. You begged him to say something, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Well, you didn’t say it back. ” Tired of looking for your shirt that you’re certain is now lost in another dimension, you grabbed one of his on the floor. You tried to remember if it was the one he wore last night. “I’ll mail it back to you.”

Stephen had crawled out of bed by this time and put his boxers on. He walked towards you while you buttoned the shirt. Stephen grabbed your hands. “Y/n, stay.”

You remembered asking him to do the same thing. Tears streamed down your puffy cheeks. You wanted him to stay and talk it out. You had finally had enough and told him that if his lack of response was because of Christine, he needed to get over it. You told him Christine and him were over and she didn’t love him anymore.

You had never seen Stephen angry before. His nose flared, and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t yell, or curse you. He simply said he never wanted to see you again. But his words were like a venomous snake, striking you hard.

You realized why had called you tonight. He was lonely and unhappy. What else was there to do than to call the only other lonely unhappy person that he knew. It always had to be him to make the shots.

You snatched your hands out of his grasp. “You know what your problem is, Stephen? You’re still so far up your own ass even after everything you’ve been through. I don’t know what was going through my head coming over. I don’t know what went through my head being involved with you. All of this has clearly been a mistake.”

“You think our time together was a mistake? All of it?” Stephen crossed his arms.

You pressed the bridge of your nose, unsure what to say. Of course you didn’t think it was a mistake. You enjoyed every moment of it, but you couldn’t help feeling resentment in his commitment issues. You hated that you allowed yourself to fall in the same trap he set up for Christine. You were a little mouse and he taunted you with cheese, hope and a future, but instead you were trapped and left to die with no rewards.

“Stephen, I love you.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You couldn’t let him see that vulnerability like the last time you had confessed to him.

“I know, but Y/n… you know I… I can’t.”

“I’m not finished. I love you,” you repeated. You looked him in the eyes, and hoped to see that glimmer that maybe he would say it back. He opened his mouth; however, he shut it quickly. “But I love myself more. I can’t keep letting your stunted emotions hold me back.”

You left the room before he could say anything more. You knew he could easily open a portal to catch up to you. He could get on his knees and show you he felt the same, but he didn’t. You wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

You went three months without hearing, seeing, or talking about Stephen Strange. You missed him. You thought about him every day and at least once a week… okay maybe more… you would draft a text message to him that you were thinking about him. You would delete it before the temptation of pressing that send button overtook your stubbornness. He would ignore it like other messages anyway. Always leaving you on read until he was ready to see you again on his time.

Saturdays were always a lazy day for you. You hadn’t left your bed except to use the restroom. You mindlessly scrolled on different media platforms to waste time and avoid getting up. You jumped when your phone started to buzz and ring in your hand. You furrowed your brows when you saw who it was, but nevertheless answered.

You felt a little grouchy that you had agreed to get lunch with Christine on your day you vow not to leave the apartment unless for emergencies. If it weren’t for the fact you had barely seen her this year, you would have rain checked.

She was at the café first. Her strawberry hair was down in loose curls and she wore a yellow sundress. When she saw you, she smiled and stood up to hug you.

“I’m so happy to see you!”

“Same. We haven’t done one of these in a while,” you commented. She had already ordered your food, you noticed. You were grateful because you were starving and not sure if you could wait any longer before devouring a sandwich.

“Between the hospital, Charlie… and the engagement. I guess I’ve been busy.” Christine took a bite of her pasta salad.

“Yeah, It’s been busy for me too… wait engagement?”

Christine set down her fork and showed her right hand that you didn’t notice had been in her lap the entire time. An elegant diamond ring glimmered on her slender finger. “We’ve been keeping it hushed for a few months now. But since we have a venue and date ready I thought it was time to come clean!” You couldn’t help but feel envious. Christine looked so happy, her smile reached from ear to ear. You wondered if you would ever feel that one day. “Also, I have been trying to find the best time to ask if you would be my Maid of Honor.”

“You want me?”

“Of course! We wanted a small wedding party, and you’re the first person I could think of. ”

The pang of guilt made your chest tighten. You realized all this time you hadn’t been honest with Christine. You had been sneaking behind her back with your casual affair. “Christine, I’m honored. I really am, but I don’t think I’m the right person.”

“You’ve always been there for me, Y/n. I want to celebrate my happy day with you by my side.”

Your eyes made their way to the sandwich on your plate with only one bite. The hunger you felt earlier vanished but you felt it threaten to come up. “I haven’t been a good friend.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. If you tried to speak any louder you might croak.

“Is this about you and Stephen?”

You snapped your head up eyebrows furrowed. You were confused how she could possibly guess that. “How?”

“You didn’t think I’d notice you two sneaking off together at my Christmas party?” She didn’t look hurt or angry. Her lips were tugged into a smug look. She had been waiting for this moment to talk about you and Stephen. I guess you weren’t the only one holding secrets.

“Well, it’s over anyway.” You poked at a pile of sliced pickles on your plate.

“That dumbass.”

“Who said it was his fault?”

“It’s Stephen Strange we’re talking about.”

You two shared a fit of giggles. It felt good to laugh. She made you feel like you weren’t crazy or clingy or stupid. For the past few months you thought you had been alone. It was a bit narcissistic when you thought about it, because there was one person who understood— probably more than you.

The next three months you were too busy helping plan Christine’s bridal and bachelorette party that you had no time to think about your love life. You had convinced yourself to forget about the arrogant superhero— until his name was on the list of invitations.

You tried your best to ignore it. You skipped over his name numerous times when stamping and sealing envelopes. You contemplated if you should spray your perfume on the invitation, or add a message. You wanted to do something to make him miss you. Being the bigger person, however, sucked.

Christine wanted to do one thing for her bachelorette. Get wasted.

She didn’t have many other girl friends due to her busy schedule, but she insisted on inviting a few girls from work and her fiancé’s sister. You had to convince her co-worker free booze was involved and they were all in.

It didn’t take long for everyone to be wasted. They were all middle-aged women and giggling over the dick shaped objects you had bought for the party.

“How big is Charlie?” Cathy, one of Christine’s co-workers asked.

“Ew, please don’t answer that.” Charlie’s sister, Moriah, fake gagged.

Everyone burst into laughter while Christine blushed and covered her face.

“My mother always told me, if the shoe doesn't fit just right, don’t buy it!” Cathy howled at her joke.

“Mmm, I bet some of those surgeons at the hospital know exactly how to work their hands.” Another co-worker, Minnie, replied. “Spill the beans Christine, was Dr. Strange as wonderful in bed as everyone assumes?”

You choked on your ��Cumcoction” that you had made out of different alcoholic beverages and juices. You received curious glances as you tried to clean up a few drops on your chin.

“I don’t think about him and our past anymore.” Christine was trying to be polite and considerate of your feelings. You gave her a look to tell her it’s okay. “Besides he seems to have his hands busy with other things.”

The girls didn’t seem to catch on what she was insinuating. “Ah, yes. He’s probably too busy saving the world to be worried about a relationship.” Cathy commented. “I bet he he has a pretty dick, though”

“He does.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped towards you. You covered your mouth quickly, as if doing that wouldn’t make them suspicious of you. You tried to sputter out excuses that you meant you thought so too. But the girls weren’t buying it, and Christine wasn’t helping. She was too busy trying not to laugh at your confession.

“Y/n, are you sleeping with Stephen Strange?” Minnie asked.

“Not anymore!” You proclaimed. “We… it wasn’t anything serious.”

“Yeah, right! She’s in love with him.” Christine rolled her eyes.

“You’re okay with it?” Cathy questioned.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t own either him or Y/n.”

“Okay, girl, then why are we not with him anymore?” The question was directed at you this time.

You racked your brain for a reply. But it felt like the words floating around were squiggles that you couldn’t decipher. “I… we’re different.”

“How so?”

“This party is about Christine, we should talk about something else.” You coughed. When no one budged to change the subject you sighed. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t miss me or anything like that.”

“Why do you say that?” By this time the alcohol is pumping in your bloodstream you don’t even know who’s the one talking.

“Hee… hasn’t texted me to check on meee.”

“Girl, you have to do something to make him realize he misses you. This is your apartment right?”

You nodded.

“Come on!”

You believe it was Cathy who led everyone to your bedroom. She asked you where you kept your undergarments. You led her to your dresser and pulled out a drawer. She peeked inside and shook her head. “No. We need something revealing but not too much.”

“What about this?” You asked, picking up a white button up shirt.

“That is the opposite of what I meant.”

You giggled. “It’s his. I stole it.”

Everyone knew immediately what you needed to do.

You found yourself laid on your bed in a pair of black bra, panties and Stephen’s shirt. Turns out, Charlie’s sister is a boudoir photographer and was in charge of setting up the scene. She undid most of the top buttons— enough to have your bra and breasts exposed. Moriah instructed you to arch your back and put your hands stretched above your head. If there wasn’t alcohol in you there would be no way you’d let strangers see you like this.

The girls cooed and giggled. Christine kept repeating how hot you looked. You tried to keep a neutral facial expression like Moriah commanded, but it was hard not to blush at the drunken compliments.

When Moriah was done taking the photo she gave you the okay to relax. Your phone got passed around like it was show and tell. They kept squealing at the photo. You weren’t sure how a simple photograph could cause such a reaction. There wasn’t anything special about you.

Minnie handed you the phone with an approved smile plastered on her face.

Your eyes widened as soon as you saw the screen. You looked… sexy. Your sultry body language made your toes tingle. You looked up at the girls in front of you as they gave you a are-you-going-to-do-it look. You smirked and began to type out a message that you believed was well constructed enough to make Stephen Strange teleport into your room as soon as he saw it— he’s done it before.

There was no need to ask if it was acceptable. After you pressed send you turned your phone to show them. They all gathered around to see that you sent the photo along with the message “I’m trying to give back this shirt to its rightful owner, could you help?”

Their laughter almost covered the sound of your phone ringing. The sudden vibrations in your hand scared you, which caused you to throw it on your bed. “Oh my god.” You whispered. It was him. You looked at the girls, begging for help. You realized you weren’t being that serious. It was a joke, and now the joke went further than expected because he was responding. “Oh my god.” You cried out. You felt like you were going to throw up and it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

“Answer it!” Christine encouraged.

“What would I even say?” You put your hands on top of your head.

Christine rolled her eyes, picked up the phone and handed it to you. “Start off by saying hello.” She looked at her friends and motioned her head towards the door to give you privacy.

The phone rang again and you felt your lungs rip out of your chest for a moment. Your shaky thumb betrayed you and accepted the call. “H-hello?”

“Y/n?” His cool voice made a shiver roll down your spine. You missed his voice, his soothing words that triggered the hairs on your arms to stand up. You missed his fingers when they trailed your goosebumps followed by those sweet kisses.

“Yeah.”

“Er, I received your text.”

“Right, that silly thing. I was joking.”

“Joking.” He repeated out loud.

“Yep.”

“What a shame I really miss… that shirt.”

You let out a breath of air. “I think this shirt misses you too.” Your finger trailed over a loose thread on your comforter. “Unfortunately, you would have to rip it off of me before I gave it up. I’ve grown quite attached to it.”

You smirked when the sound of his breath hitched in his throat.

“I can imagine it now. You have one hand wrapped around my neck so you can feel my pulse while the other hand tears the shirt off my naked body. I’m wet just thinking about it, Stephen.”

“Y/n.” It sounded like a warning. If you said anything more he would come undone.

“Sadly, I’m preoccupied with other endeavors. I guess the rest of this conversation can be left for the imagination. Talk to you later!”

You heard him call out your name as you removed your phone from your ear. You felt so much power once you hung up. You had hoped he would send a stream of text messages or would try to call again. You even hoped he would be in your room by now, but after about five minutes of silence you came to terms none of those would happen. Disappointed, you got dressed back into your previous clothes and joined the party again.

Everyone left about two in the morning. Cathy was so drunk that Minnie volunteered to let the woman stay with her. Christine thanked you for the exciting night— it made her feel like they were in University again.

You were practically sober when you closed the door to your apartment, but the inevitable pressure started to push against your skull. Luckily your apartment wasn’t that messy. It was nothing you couldn’t handle in the morning.

You felt tired, but not enough to lay in your bed and go to sleep. You settled on trashy reality while you laid on your couch, an ice pack on your forehead. This was the consequence of drinking a lot tonight when you rarely drink at all. You were surprised you didn’t end up like Cathy, stumbling around sputtering nonsense. But you were drunk enough to send a risque photo to your ex-lover who will never love you back.

You groaned and sputtered out curses. If you could, you would kick yourself. So much for holding your ground and never talking to him again. You would have to see him next weekend, but it was different because you didn’t initiate it and it would be easy to avoid him. If he tried to come towards you it would be just as easy to turn the other way.

Another example would be if he were to knock on your door at two-thirty in the morning, it would be easy to slam it in his face. But what if he was standing there, wearing a blue cotton t-shirt with grey sweatpants? His hair disheveled and fell in front of his eyes. He looked like he had been trying to sleep, but couldn’t.

You should just slam the door. You should, but you didn’t.

Stephen walked inside your apartment scanning the remnants of the party. “Ah.” He said. He seemed to acknowledge what you were doing tonight and there was no need to ask further questions.

“What are you doing here?” You knew why he was here, and that’s probably why you closed your door, locking it.

“I told you… I really missed my shirt.”

You bit your lip. He wasn’t looking at you and it was making you mad. You wondered if he’d notice if you started making goofy faces at him. “It’s in my room. I can go get it for you.”

When you came back out of your room, Stephen had made a spot on your couch. He sat upright hands in his lap. The only light came from the TV as the blue tint glowed on him.

“Didn’t take you as a Kardashian fan.” Stephen called out, unaware of your presence.

“It helps me sleep at night.”

“That’s what melatonin…” He looked over at you on the other side of the couch. His mouth fell agape. It was like the photo you had sent him came to life before his eyes. “I thought you said you were getting my shirt for me. Not wear it.”

You strutted towards him. His eyes never left yours as you got closer. “I told you Dr. Strange,” you said. You were now in front of him. “You’ll have to tear it off of me if you’re wanting it back.” You wiggled his knees apart and slipped between him. Your fingers ran through his unkempt dark locks. You were always fascinated with the silver streak and found yourself twirling it around your finger.

His hands stayed on his thighs. They hadn’t budged at all as if he was forcing them down with weights.

“You’re not touching me.” You stated. Your left hand left his hair and came to his cheek. “Why?”

“I’m only granting your wishes.”

“My wishes?”

“You said this was over.”

You smirked and leaned over to his ear. “Stephen, if you were granting my wishes you wouldn’t have answered the phone.” You looked into his icy eyes polluted by darkness. “You can tell me to stop.” He wouldn’t tell you to. That’s why he let your fingers trail to his lips. Your thumb grazed from top to bottom, allowing you to have an opening to place your own lips on his.

Hot breaths exchanged between you like you both were trying to suck the oxygen out of one another. You needed to take a breath of air— as if you had been underwater and gasped for life. The only thing that told you were alive was the sound of your heart beating out of your chest and the blood pumping in your veins.

You stole another deep kiss, nipping his bottom lip. He hissed, but you quickly shut him up by putting your thumb in his mouth letting his tongue graze the digit. Your other fingers placed underneath his jaw as you pressed down to open his mouth.

You had never really taken control like this before. It had always been him bending you over, making you whimper, making you beg for him.

He still refused to touch you. It was pissing you off, but you refused to say anything. Instead, you pushed his hands away and sat in his lap. You bucked your hip to force a soft moan to escape his lips.

He shifted, allowing you to feel the hardness through his sweats. He placed his hands on your hips to pull you closer allowing more friction between him and you, the pressure relieving the ache trapped beneath. He grabbed the back of your neck to bring you into a passionate kiss. His other hand found itself wandering underneath your — his— shirt. That damn shirt.

He had had enough. He picked you up slightly and threw you on the couch. He climbed on top of you, hungry kisses attacked your lips. You pushed the hem of his shirt up to help him take it off, throwing it on the ground. He came back down and started kissing your jaw down to your neck, nipping and sucking pink blooms all over.

You placed your hand on his chest. You loved the feeling of his muscles under your touch. You felt him shudder as they trailed down his body to the hem of his sweatpants. However he was quick to dodge her eager fingers from exploring further. “Patience.” He growled.

“I haven’t been with you in months, can you blame me?”

“And whose fault is that?”

You had to bite your tongue. You were too incredibly horny to try to argue with him. He slid down, eyes never breaking yours as he pushed your thighs apart. His eyes broke away from yours and he was now focused on what he could see between your legs. You had gone ahead to do away with anything else besides his shirt. He wanted to say something witty, but he used his sharp tongue to lick you instead. A small quiet moan left your lips, making him work faster. You instinctively grabbed the first thing you could think of as you embraced the jolts of pleasure pumping through your body which was Stephen’s hair. He spread your legs a bit further to get a better angle. His tongue pressed a spot that made you gasp and back arch. If he went any longer you might not make it so you tugged his hair, a silent instruction to come back to you.

He licked his lips that tasted only of you. You wanted him to come back and kiss you but instead he got off of you and the couche. You frowned and thought maybe he was done and wanted to leave. He realized it was another mistake that they were together again after months of silence. But rather than collecting his things, Stephen began to remove his sweatpants, throwing them to the designated clothes pile. Your eyes were wide when you discovered he was not wearing anything under his clothes either. He knew this would happen. Smartass.

He returned on top of you. He looked at the shirt covering you. His impatient fingers began to pick at the buttons to free your body. He struggled to get them undone, a small vein popped at the top of his forehead from frustration.

“Here let me help.” You offered, bringing your hands towards the buttons.

Stephen pushed them away and hooked his fingers between the gaps, pulling the fabric. A few buttons flew across the room, but neither one of you cared. He began kissing your inner thigh, up your leg, your stomach. He relished the sight of your bare breasts before he took one in his mouth while the other was being massaged. The blue tones from the TV cast shadows on his face, exaggerating his cheekbones.

“Stephen, I need you.” Your voice was shaky. It felt like you had forgotten how to speak.

He looked up at you to see the plea in your eyes. Sitting up on his knees, he took your legs and wrapped them around his waist. You adjusted yourself to help him find your entrance. You moaned in unison as he entered inside of you, your walls welcoming him as they pulsated like a heartbeat. It was a mixture of relief and pleasure as he took long slow thrusts inside of you. He wanted your body to crave the feeling until it begged for more.

Stephen placed his chest flush against your breasts. One hand rested on your hip as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his warm breaths tickled your bare skin. His pace began to pick up a low groan rattled in his throat that sent tiny vibrations into you. He slid out of you almost completely then sank back inside you, hitting a spot that made you cry out in satisfaction.

“Stephen,” you called out. Your nails dug into his back.

He moved his lips to your neck, running his tongue over your pulse as he buried himself inside you again. Each thrust harder and faster than the last, sending waves of electricity through your core and nerves. You closed your eyes, the pleasure seemed almost unbearable. You felt the heat in your core begin to bubble like a teapot boiling water, the steam begging to be released. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. His hips snapped forward granting your body’s needs.

“Fuck.” He groaned.

His voice melted into you, pushing your climax over the edge. Heat pulsated through you hot, burning, blazing, tearing through you. Your walls hugged him as you released. “Keep going.” You sighed.

He continued unrelentless thrusts in you. The only words exchanged were whimpers and grunts between stolen kisses as you felt him twitch. He drove himself into you, a final growl escaped his lips, releasing his climax.

His pace steadied to a halt, his forehead on top of yours. You still felt him inside you, but neither of you moved. You studied each other’s breaths and how they once were erratic. Now, they were steady and back to normal, as if neither one of you were crying out in pleasure just moments ago.

Every time you were with him you never knew if it would be the last. Each time you told yourself you’d relish and savour every touch, but like tonight, you got carried away. You brushed your fingers through his hair, scared he would disappear if you blinked. You knew nothing had changed, but maybe you were attempting to make a relationship out of nothing. Maybe this was all you’d have with him, and you needed to accept that.

The past few days felt odd. At work, Stephen would text you, asking if you wanted to get lunch or dinner. You didn’t mind, it wasn’t unusual for him to invite you out to eat; however, it had never been a daily occurrence. You didn’t want to question it so you accepted every time, not caring about his intentions. It was a bonus that a majority of the meals were free because the staff would recognize him as Dr. Strange, the superhero who helped defeat Thanos.

What was even weirder was when he came to your work after you got off to walk you home. If you had already ate lunch, he would fuck you as soon as you got to your apartment, and if you had dinner plans he would fuck you before and fucked you after. You don’t recall having that much sex in a week but Stephen found a way to break your personal record. Not that you were complaining about the sex either.

No, the sex was amazing as always, and the food delicious, but every day you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach. He would stay over at your apartment. You swore he put his toothbrush in your bathroom the second night. It was all you ever wanted out of him, a domestic relationship. But why did you feel unfulfilled every time you looked over at him sleeping peacefully in your bed?

It was Thursday, two days before the wedding, tomorrow being the rehearsal dinner. You managed to decline lunch with Stephen, begging Christine to meet with you. You hadn’t seen her since the bachelorette party. You couldn’t make the next two days about you, but you needed advice.

Christine’s schedule was busy to help tie up work at the hospital before her week-long honeymoon. She asked if you could have lunch at the hospital and if you hadn’t been under desperate measures you would have said never mind.

“I’m so happy you asked to meet. I needed a chance to catch my breath.” Christine told you, taking a sip of her tea.

“Been a busy day, I guess?”

“Working my ass off this week and the future in-laws are in town. I don’t think I’ve been able to relax or have fun on the week of my wedding.” She raised an eyebrow. “You on the other hand… look like you’ve been having fun.”

“What?” You asked.

She scoffed, reaching over the table and pulling the collar of your shirt so it could reveal a bruised love bite. “I do hope you plan on covering that for Saturday.”

You brushed her hand away, embarrassed. “I guess I’ve been a little carried away… this week.”

“Wait, all week?”

You put your face in your hands in shame. “Every. Single. Day. But it’s not the sex that’s bothering me. He’s treating me like we’re in a relationship.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Christine, we’re talking about Stephen Strange here. He doesn’t do relationships.”

“Well you don’t do just sex. Y/n, you’re in love with him and he’s using that to his advantage.”

You wanted to snap at her, because it was her who started this mess. If Christine hadn’t gotten her friends involved in your love life, then maybe that photo would had never been taken and then maybe he wouldn’t have come over and had sex with you on the couch and on the kitchen counter and the shower… it was definitely Christine’s fault. But then again, Christine knew Stephen maybe better than you did. You were only his booty call whenever something was bothering him. Except, you didn’t know anything that might be bothering him besides maybe your love confession. Your brain was hurting trying to figure it all out.

“I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. I didn’t think monster-in-law was a real thing.” Christine said out loud, scrolling on her phone.

Then it clicked. No wonder Stephen was acting like it was the end of the world.

After your lunch with Christine you went back to work, but you couldn’t focus on anything. You had finished your reports earlier this week since you would have tomorrow off. Time seemed to drag. Every time you looked at the clock on your computer nothing seemed to change.

You had two hours left of your shift before asking your boss if you could leave early. He wasn’t strict or high maintenance if you did your job right, and you always did. So, he had no issue with you leaving for the rest of the day. You were certain he probably wouldn’t notice you were gone tomorrow.

You always felt nervous arriving at the sanctum, especially since it seemed like Wong was the one who always greeted you when you walked in.

He always gave an all too knowing look when he would tell Stephen he had a guest.

“Surprised to see you, Y/n.” Wong said as he walked through a portal, carrying a box.

“Really?”

“No. Strange, your girlfriend’s here!” Wong set the box down and walked back into the portal.

“He’s not my boyfri-“

A voice interrupted you. “Y/n, I was just getting ready to come pick you up.”

You didn’t question that he hadn’t corrected Wong. But you did raise an eyebrow. “Two hours early? I thought you just opened your portal thingy right before I got off.”

“He does, it just takes him two hours to pick out an outfit.” Wong said, bringing in another box, grunting as he set it down. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to help.” He looked at Stephen, who rolled his eyes in return.

“You’re the Sorcerer Supreme. Not my job.”

You giggled. Wong and him always had to make jabs at one another when it came to the subject of Sorcerer Supreme. That was actually one of the many reasons Stephen would call you upset. Which reminded you why you were there. “Stephen, could we talk?”

“Yes, of course. Want to talk over dinner? I’m starving. I know a great restaurant about two blocks from here.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could talk somewhere… private.” You bit your lip.

“Really? Strange, I’d rather not hear you and your girlfriend talk about engaging in coitus while I’m here.”

“He’s not my boyfri-“

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, Wong.” Stephen moved his hands in a circle. There were a few sparks as he opened a portal. He held out his hand for you to take. You waved goodbye to Wong as the two of you walked through. You took in the salty air as Stephen closed the portal so it was just the two of you. He had brought you to a secluded beach. There seemed to not be any sign of inhabitants within miles. “Where are we?”

“A deserted island. One of my favorite places to come when I need to think.”

You looked at the man beside you. Most of the time he was arrogant and unbearable to be around, and that’s probably why you enjoyed his mouth being preoccupied elsewhere. But there were moments he shared with you that maybe you could find hope being with him.

You took off your shoes so your feet could sink in the sand, it was also much easier to walk alongside him.

“So, what was so important that you took work off early?” He asked.

You felt your words lose their way when you tried to speak. “I… um… I think we should stop. For real this time.”

He didn’t budge, nor was there a change in his expression.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“What is there to say, Y/n?”

“I don’t know. Just something.” Your voice was soft, covered by the sounds of waves crashing the sand bank.

“We’ve done this a thousand times, Y/n. One of us tells the other we’re done, but the next day we’re back to how we were.”

“Well, I’m tired of feeling trapped in that cycle. This week, I thought I finally made a breakthrough. But I realized nothing was different. I realized you were using me like you had before. You’re sad, Stephen. You’re sad that Christine is getting married on Saturday, and you’re trying to use my emotions as your outlet to avoid it. I always thought if I begged for you, and I had more sex with you, then maybe you would see how much I truly love you and you would give it back to me.”

He finally stopped walking so he could look at you. You tried your best to not look him in the eyes. You knew if you saw his reaction, you would cry. “Y/n…” He tried to speak but words failed to come out.

“I’m done feeling like I need you to make me happy.” You felt your words choke on the sob rolling up your throat. “I don’t think I’ll ever make you happy.”

“I’m not sure how to respond.” Stephen admitted. His hands were at sides, you could see them twitch as if he wanted to do something but restrained himself.

You wiped a tear that finally escaped, turning your back to him you were unable to face him any longer. “Just take me home.”

He let out a heavy sigh before a portal to your living room opened in front of you. Without another word or glancing back at him, you stepped through. In all honesty, you wanted to turn around and ask him to forget everything you had just said. But you couldn’t fall back into the pattern. You needed to break it for both of you. Turning your body slightly, you watched as the portal closed, a few sparks were left until it became nothing, and you were staring at your mundane apartment once again as if nothing had been there.

You debated on telling Christine you had a stomach bug and you couldn’t do the wedding anymore. The thought of seeing Stephen on Saturday made you want to throw up. You knew you couldn’t let her down. So, at the wedding rehearsal, you made sure to leave all of your problems at the door— these past two days were not about you. You did pretty good avoiding all of your issues, grateful that Moriah didn’t acknowledge the other night when she spoke to you.

The wedding on the other hand… you knew he would be there. You had mentally prepared yourself when you would inevitably see him. When it was your cue to walk down the aisle, the best man arm linked with yours, your eyes immediately scanned the many guests. Although it was the back of their heads you could identify his silver streak. You gulped as you passed him, feeling his eyes bore the back of your head.

As soon as you took your place, the pianist began to play Christine’s entrance. Everyone stood and turned to look at her as she walked in. Your focus was on her and you couldn’t help but let the anxiety wash away with happiness, watching your closest friend look extraordinarily beautiful. You noticed Charlie, tearing up as the two looked at each. To them, they were the only people in the room. Your eyes flickered to Stephen as Christine made her way past him; however, he only looked at her momentarily with a half-hearted smile before looking back in your direction. You pretended not to notice, but the heat on your cheeks told you otherwise.

This went on the entire ceremony. You could feel his gaze on you, watching every single thing you did. Every breath you took his eyes were on the rise and fall of your chest to your slightly opened lips you occasionally licked. You wished you had your own superhero power like mind control, then you could tell him to fuck off.

You made sure not to make eye-contact with him as you followed Christine and Charlie after they kissed and ran down the aisle. You swore you could hear Stephen whisper your name, yet, you refused to turn your head.

At the reception you saw multiple times he attempted to approach you but by the grace of God, someone would jump in front of him to bombard you with questions about the wedding. It seemed being on your feet constantly was the only thing you were able to do. One point you snuck off to a secluded hallway, a glass of wine in your hand and sat down on a red cushioned window seat. A long sigh escaped you looking out at the city through the window. Passersby made their way past the building. None of them knew they walked by two people who vowed their love to one another. None of them knew how happy you were for your best friend. Yet, you couldn’t help feel the tight pang in your chest that held the feeling of jealousy and yearning. They were blurred together where it was hard to distinguish which one was which.

The room temperature wine tickled your tongue. The bittersweet liquid always made you pucker your lips the first sip.

You had just finished your maid of honor speech about Christine. It had been the most difficult part of the entire wedding in your opinion. Trying to write about a subject you weren’t exactly a professional in made it hard to come up with words. Sure you knew how to love, but when writing you realized you never knew what it felt to be loved. You saw the way Christine tucked her hair behind her ear whenever she shyly spoke about Charlie. But there was a different reaction when he did something romantic or said something sweet. The twinkle in Christine’s eyes sparkled bright.

You looked at yourself in the reflection of the glass. You tried to imagine anybody treating you that way— you tried to imagine Stephen. You hated to admit that him staring at you the entire wedding made your heart skip a beat in your chest. You guessed it wouldn’t have been that terrible if he had come over and talked to you. There was nothing said to him that the two of you couldn’t be friends… right? You took another sip. Time to go back to reality.

The band started playing a slow song once you entered the reception hall. Couples, including Christine and Charlie, were dancing. Heads placed on shoulders as they swayed to the tranquil music. You told yourself not to do it but your eyes betrayed you as you searched for him. It didn’t take long to find the tall superhero standing near the balcony, his own eyes scanning the crowd. Your heart stopped beating momentarily when his blue irises locked with yours. You said curses under your breath when he began walking in your direction. You turned sideways to pretend like you definitely had not just eye-fucked him and downed the rest of your wine.

“Y/n.” His voice was loud and clear beside you, but he still managed to say it low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him. “Stephen. I didn’t know you were still here.” He gave you an unimpressed look because you both knew you were lying; however, he didn’t correct you. “Beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?”

His eyes drifted down and looked over at the newlyweds before focusing back on you. “Yeah, it was. I’m glad she’s happy,”

“Are you happy?” The words came out of your mouth unexpectedly. You wished your wine glass wasn’t empty.

Stephen’s lips pursed. “Christine asked me the same question.”

“Well, what did you say?”

“Dance with me.” He blurted.

His hand reached towards you but you pulled away from him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t have an answer.” He reached for you again, this time succeeding in taking your free hand. You felt the tingles of electricity move through your fingers, much like the first time you had held hands after a month of seeing each other. You subconsciously grazed your thumb over the scars on his knuckles. You remembered when he winced the first time you touched them, but now it was one of his favorite things you did to him. Stephen leaned over. His lips nearly touched your ear. “Dance with me, and I’ll have an answer.”

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. “You know I can’t.”

“Y/n I…” Before he could continue a loud crash came from outside the building. A few people noticed and ran towards the balcony to see the commotion of screams. Stephen looked at you with an apologetic look before running that way himself. You watched as he leaned over the rails. His shoulders dropped from a long sigh. Without hesitation, he swiped his hand in the air changing into his infamous Doctor Strange attire. You swore his cape gave you a small wave before Stephen flew over the ledge.

You probably had the worst date of your entire life. You were going to kill Christine once she came back from her honeymoon next week. Who even takes a three week long honeymoon? I guess someone who rarely gets a vacation. You needed a vacation after the events of tonight, that's for sure.

Before the wedding was over, Christine pulled you aside and demanded you tell her what was wrong after watching your interaction with Stephen. She noticed something was up since the rehearsal.

You tried to tell her not to worry about it, but she insisted. So you told her you made a declaration not to see Stephen Strange in any intimate setting ever again. Christine seemed upset, the first time you had seen her frown on her wedding day. A pang of guilt crept inside. That was precisely why you didn’t want to talk about it with her.

“Y/n, I wish you saw the way he looks at you. He’s holding it back. He just needs a little push.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to prevent any tears. “I’m tired of carrying all the weight of pushing.”

Christine gave you a sympathetic smile. Her hand placed on your shoulder. “I’m proud of you. You deserve only the best.”

Apparently the best was Charlie's semi-attractive second cousin, Simon. You shuddered thinking about him. For one, he was twenty-three minutes and twelve seconds late to the movie— which you paid for everything. After the movie you went to a café and the entire time he talked. It wasn’t a bad thing, but you believe the only thing you were able to get out was how your day had been. Then his phone rang and rang and rang until you finally told him to answer it. Turns out, Charlie’s second cousin, Simon, is going through a divorce. Yet, he’s still sleeping with his future ex-wife. Information you had wished Christine had told you before you wasted five hours of your Saturday.

You debated on taking Cathy’s advice last Tuesday when you had lunch with her and Minnie. “Girl, get Tinder!”

You’ve had it before, and you had plenty of suitors, but there was always that queasy feeling of not knowing anyone’s true intentions. For nearly a year you’ve felt like an object of sexual desires and relief. All you wished for was something real. As pathetic as it sounded, you wanted a boyfriend. You wanted someone who would greet you with a kiss. Someone who would hold your hand as you walked down the street as you pointed at ridiculously priced objects in stores that you would buy if you were a millionaire. You wanted someone who would take you to gatherings with friends and let you sit on their lap as you talked. You wanted someone who would talk about the possibility of marriage and kids while sitting in your sunshine mimosa bubble bath. You wanted it all. Worst of all, you wanted it with Stephen Strange.

You groaned at the large thunderclap followed by the pitter patter of rain splashing on you. Passersby put up their umbrellas. Guess you should look at the radar more often. Damn the New York mentality that it’s not far of a walk instead of taking a cab. The rain started to pick up and it was difficult to see.

By the time you made it to your apartment, you were drenched head to toe. Your clothes clung to your body uncomfortably. A nice hot bubble bath sounded amazing. As soon as you closed and locked your front door you started to kick shoes off. You unbuttoned your blue jean shorts so you could shimmy out of them. You barely got the zipper down when you realized a figure stood outside your balcony.

At first you were scared and ducked behind your couch to call 911, but the longer you looked at the person, the more you recognized them. Stephen slouched over the railing. A charcoal gray shirt clung to his body along with dark navy blue trousers. If it had been any other person you would yell at them to get out, yet you found yourself joining him outside, leaning over the railing and avoiding eye contact. You were thankful the rain was blocked from the awning above you.

“I heard how you saved the world, once again.” You bit your bottom lip, chewing it lightly.

He grunted. “I wouldn’t really call it that.”

“Then what would you call it?” You turned your head so you could see him. His hair was slicked back and face clean shaven. It kind of made you upset he didn’t look like shit. Maybe he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him.

His eyes didn’t meet yours as he looked off. “It’s my job.”

“One hell of a job, then. Do you get health insurance? Is there an underground superhero hospital?”

Stephen let out a laugh. A real laugh that formed in the pit of his belly all the way up. He turned to you, leaning on his left arm against the railing. You couldn’t help your eyes that flickered to a sliver of his exposed skin as his shirt rode up. “Yes, I passed Thor Odinson getting a colonoscopy.”

You snorted. “Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” His furrowed eyebrows unwrinkled when he realized what you meant. He glanced down at his right hand. “It’s always hard to let go of something you love.”

You didn’t answer him but you agreed.

“I guess that’s why it’s difficult to let go of you, Y/n.” His statement was casual and smooth like honey. You scoffed, turned away from him and shook your head to face him again.

There was no hesitation as he looked you in the eyes, a serious look painted his face. Did he get closer? Or have your bodies only been inches apart this entire time? There was hope he wasn’t able to hear your heart pounding against your chest as if it were trying to escape your chest. “That’s not funny.” The words came out barely a whisper.

He tilted his head, giving you a pointed look. “I didn’t tell you a joke.”

“I think it’s time for you to go home, Stephen.” The prank he was trying to pull was the lowest of lows. He has used you for months and now he was trying to make awful attempts to toy with you. You wondered if he was a sociopath with no consideration of how his actions made you feel. Or maybe he was a psychopath and knew, and got off on it. Either way, you made a promise to yourself that you didn’t intend on breaking.

“We have a kid.” This man sounded insane. You should probably run inside and block him from everything, but then again, he’s battled aliens. Him saying you have a child with him was not the craziest phrase that has come out of his mouth. “Technically two. A boy and girl. Also, technically in another multiverse.” He shrugged.

“You really are testing the waters.” You turned around to go in. “Just go home. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Their names are Adalina and Ben.” He called after you. Stopping dead in your tracks, hand hovering the doorknob you took a sharp breath in. There had only been one conversation about children between the two of you. It only contained two sentences. In one sentence you asked if he wanted to have children, and the second sentence he answered no. The subject was dropped and never brought up again, until now. So how the hell did Stephen Strange know two names you’ve always wanted to give your children if you had any? Turning around, you crossed your arms across your chest. Your face told him to continue but he was on thin ice.

“I became a surgeon because I believed I loved saving people. But, an old friend of mine made me realize I never wanted to save them in good heart. I loved having life at the control of my fingertips and every move I made manipulated it into the outcome I wanted.

“It was easy because those people were only part of a game to me. It didn’t matter if they lived or died because it only meant I got better at my job. In a way it’s the same with having super powers. But, if I cared enough about a person… if I love them. What would I do if they were gone forever? I can’t stop death and it terrifies me. It terrifies me if I lose you, especially since I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

A tear rolled down your cheek. Never in your time you’ve known him have you been able to crack his surface. There were a million questions racking your brain. “There’s another me in another universe?”

He nodded. “Every single other me has made the mistake of not recognizing your value. I came here tonight, Y/n, to tell you that I need you.” His voice cracked. He stepped closer to you. “I wasn’t sure what loving someone felt like. How could I love when I don’t feel worthy of it myself? Yet, when I’m away from you my heart stops.” There was only enough room to put a ruler between the two of you… one of those bendy rulers you used to beg your mom to buy for school.

“What does your heart do when I’m around?” You asked, batting your eyes ever so innocently.

Stephen softly grabbed your hand, pulling you closer. He placed it on top of his chest. His heart greeted you as it thumped rapidly against his chest. “I’ve tried to ignore that for a year. I’m sorry.” He whispered.

You slid your hand from his chest to his cheek, placing your lips tenderly onto his, letting him know you forgave him.

“I love you.” He muttered onto your lips. It tingled like those words were laced with electricity and shocked you. He placed his hand at the back of your neck and pulled you into a long fervent kiss. Both your hands explored their way to his hair, which you tangled around your fingers, messing it up. Lightly tugging, he released a moan from the back of his throat. You bucked your hips, feeling the hard member forming. Quick feverish kisses trailed the side of your face to the nape of your neck. “You’re wet.”

“Not yet, but I’m getting there.” You groaned.

He chuckled. “No, I meant your clothes are drenched.”

“Oh, right. I was going to change…” You tried to finish your sentence but he had pushed you against the door, his leg between your thighs allowing it to rub the right spot. His hand slipped under your drenched shirt and grabbed your breast, a gasp escaped your lips.

“I need you, Y/n.” He sighed.

“Out here?” You moaned as his teeth latched your exposed collar bone, sprouting a rosy bloom.

“We’ve done it everywhere else, why not?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “You just proclaimed your love to me and now you believe you can show it to me on the balcony… where my neighbors could see us? Not exactly romantic.”

“I plan on a lifetime of showing you.” He took both of his hands to your ass and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, lips meeting once again. “But now, I need you right now.” With one arm wrapped around you, Stephen pulled your shirt off. He carried you to a reclining deck chair you had out there where he sat down so you could straddle him. Fortunately, the chair was all the way down from the last time you laid on it.

Between kisses, you helped him take off his shirt. New fresh cuts were formed on his chest. You assumed it was from his recent adventure. He let you examine the wounds, carefully running your fingers over them. Your hand fell down and began palming him. In the meantime, Stephen leaned forward to nuzzle his face in your neck. His heavy hot breaths tickled you, giving you goosebumps. He unclasped your bra sometime because his fingers pinched your nipple. “Take your pants off.” The order came unexpectedly from you, nevertheless, you moved out of the way so you could help him pull his pants down and discard them. You frowned that he had decided to wear underwear this time. No time to pout. Your hands rushed to the waistband of his underwear. Stephen moved back out of your reach. “Why do you always do that?”

“Why are you always impatient?”

“Usually guys don’t refuse blowjobs from me.” You crossed your arms to sulk.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “My dear, only if you could imagine what you do to me.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Yes, but there’s a major difference between the two of us.” He began unbuttoning your shorts, shimmying them down your legs so you stood in your purple lace panties. He looked up at you, licking his lips. “You are able to come undone.” He thumbed you through the fabric, smiling as you let out a sharp breath. “And undone…” He leaned over to kiss your hip while still massaging you. “Your pretty mouth around me wouldn’t let me last twenty seconds.”

You reached for his boxers again. “Then give me nineteen.”

He allowed you to pull them off, springing free, throbbing at the sight of you. You gripped his bare thighs to allow your body to kneel in front of him. His eyes were dark and dangerous as he watched you grab his base, twitching under your fingers. Your lips tenderly kissed his shaft making your mouth to the head, carefully popping it in. Stephen hissed as your head bobbed up and down taking him in and out. Your mouth, hand and tongue worked together to explore every inch of him. By reflex, he bucked his hips from the relief, making him push further into your mouth. His hand gripped your shoulder, most likely will leave a mark for tomorrow. You took as much of him in as you could until you couldn’t breathe. Looking up, you saw his head thrown back as if he was begging God for mercy. Low rich moans escaped his cupid bow lips. They looked delicious.

You released him from your mouth. He looked down to see why the sudden lack of warmth. However, he didn’t have to ask since your lips that were once around him now attacked his own in a deep heated kiss. He slowly pulled you down on top of him. “That was only seventeen seconds.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping count.” His fingers curled the band of your panties, helping you slip out of them. You straddled him, grinding your hips to revel in the satisfaction as you caused friction to your swollen clit. “Don’t worry, I plan on making up for the lost time.” You both knew you didn’t mean the two seconds.

You reached down to grab him, guiding it to your entrance. From your soaking core and the slick salvia still on him, you slid onto his length with ease. Groans slipped both of your lips as you lifted yourself up and sank back down. Many times before, you’ve wanted to savour every thrust, kiss, touch. It always felt like there was no promise you two would be flush together the next day. This time, however, felt much different. Knowing he loves you sent a thrill of electricity into your core as you two worked together to bury himself as far as possible inside you. He pulled you in, leading a kiss with his tongue, sliding it in your open mouth. His moans as you ground your hips vibrated your body, digging your nails into his chest as you pushed yourself up to change the angle.

Stephen propped himself up with his right hand and ran his hand up your thigh so he could grab hold of your hip. “Why were you dressed so nice today?”

You angled forward— a small cry came from both of you. “Does it matter?” He narrowed his eyes, bucking his hips so he could hit the right spot when he thrusted into you. You whined when he slowed his pace, punishing you for not telling him what you did today. “I went… on a date. Don’t give me that look. It was terrible. He didn’t even buy dessert.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, palming your breast as he picked the rhythm back to the way it was before. “I can get you dessert after this if you want.”

“Are you really asking me on a date while inside of me?” He started to hit that spot again. Your eyes began to water as the overwhelming currents of pleasure and relief pumped through you.

“Is that not what boyfriends do?” He was being arrogant, a smug look on his face that you wanted to smack off of him.

“Since when did you become my boyfriend?” He directed you to turn around, and so you did. The new angle and direction gave him access to hit the spot in a new way.

His arm wrapped around your chest and cupped your breast. You guided his other hand to rub the sensitive area between your folds. Your moans became louder. “When you became my girlfriend.”

You were glad you faced away from him so he couldn’t see your bashful face. Yet, it didn’t matter, because he knew. He let out a small chuckle and placed a tender kiss on your shoulder. You reached behind to place your hand on his head, leaning your own in his neck. Your throat now exposed and vulnerable he nipped and licked a tender spot, over and over until you sighed his name. “Y’n, I’m…” His moans sounded agonizing. If he didn’t release himself now, he would die.

You bit your lip, picking yourself and dropping onto him. “Fuck, Y/n.” He muttered into your ear.

Your walls tightened against him, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh my god…” One last thrust and your core swelled like a balloon and popped all over him. Your head fell further back as you cried out from the heated pressure you released. You panted as you felt him twitch, filling himself inside you.

Stephen slipped out of you, but continued to hold your bare body, placing kisses up and down your arm. “I know a great frozen yogurt place a few blocks away.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.” You flipped back around so you could drape your arms over his shoulders, soft playful pecks on his face. “Do they have toppings?”

“Lots.” His hands ran up and down your back.

“Do you think I have time to take a bath? I was going to take one when I got home, but I got sidetracked.”

“Take all the time you need.” He hummed into your lips.

You got up from your spot, trekking back into the apartment. You glanced over your shoulder, watching him put his underwear back on. A smile painted his face from ear to ear. You turned back around and looked at yourself in the reflection of the window. Your hair tousled and still wet from the rain, rosy blooms sprouted over your neck and breasts. Things you’ve seen before after a nice time with Stephen Strange, but there was something different. Now, there seemed to be a twinkle that shone in your eyes.

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 6 months ago

Text

Just a little lie

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Stark female reader

Trope: Explicit smut, Daddy kink, Age gap (18+ warning, minors dni)

Summary: You join the mystic arts after your dad, Tony Stark, suggested the idea. You hated the idea until you met your teacher, Doctor Stephen Strange.

A/N: Hope you like this fic…

You were in your early twenties and had never really been one for hobbies. Most of the time, you felt pretty content just laying on your bed, your phone in hand as you scrolled through app after app. But your dad seemed to be obsessed with pestering you about doing something. Anything. To go outside, to maybe help him and the other Avengers, or to just try anything different. Truthfully, you never really paid all that much attention to him.

And it was a day just like any other when he entered your room, sighing when he got sight of you. “You’re not gonna stay in here all day, are you?”

“Hm?” you let out, your eyes stuck on your phone.

“I think you spend far too much time in your room.”

You shrugged. “It’s a nice room.”

“Y/N…” He placed a hand on your phone before pulling it from your grasp. “I have an idea. You might not like the sound of it, but I really think it’ll be good for you.”

Frowning at him, you slowly sat up. “What is it?”

“I want you to try something different.”

“How different?”

“Does the mystic arts interest you at all?”

“The mystic arts?”

“I may know a very good teacher. It took a bit of convincing, but he told me he’s willing to teach you if you want to try it out. Don’t you think it’ll be fun? You’ll learn a lot?”

Slowly, you laid back down on your bed. “I don’t know. What kind of whack job teaches mystic arts?”

Your father let out a little chuckle. “He’s a very reliable whack job. What do you say?”

You snatched your phone out of his hands and gave him a little shrug. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it, I guess.”

You could hear your father sighing at that, but your eyes were quickly back on your phone, your focus on the video you had been watching before he came into the room. Mystic arts sounded more strange than fun…

******

There was a knock on your door, and you looked up from your phone with a raised eyebrow. Your father stood there with a sly look on his face.

“Yes?” you asked.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

“And who might that be?”

“Your new mystic arts teacher.”

Your eyes rolled. “I don’t feel like meeting him.”

“Please,” your father pleaded. “Just do this for me. And if you aren’t interested, I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

You blew out a breath of air and lifted yourself off the bed. “Alright, okay. Since you asked so nicely.”

“I’ll wait for you in the meeting room.”

You moved extra slowly, already fully convinced that your father was wasting your time. But when you walked into the meeting room, you almost stopped right there in your tracks when you got sight of one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Tall and dark-haired with grey streaks tucked behind his ears, the man tilted his head as he looked at you. You couldn’t help it when you smiled at him, noticing how he sent you a small smile right back.

“Y/N, this is Dr. Stephen Strange,” your father said, gesturing between the two of you. “Strange, as you know by now, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

“Yes, Stark, I know who she is, because you wouldn’t stop pestering me to teach her,” Stephen said, rolling his eyes before he focused all his attention back on you.

All of a sudden, the mystic arts sounded a lot more interesting.

******

It had been a whole month since Stephen Strange had become your teacher. And he was a good teacher indeed. Thorough and clear and communicative, but there was something else he was much, much better at. Something you couldn’t tell anyone about, especially your dad.

There just had been something about Stephen that you couldn’t get enough of. His voice, his touch. The way he looked at you. It all drew you into him, and before you knew it, the two of you had more than just a student-teacher relationship. It became something better and wilder and dirtier and forbidden. You fell for him hard and fast, and you had spent the past few weeks lying to your dad when you left the Avengers compound. You’d tell him you were going to hang out with your friends when really, you were darting over to the New York Sanctum to meet up with Stephen so he could take you and make you all his.

It was what you were doing at that very moment. Looking over your shoulder, you gave your dad a little wave. “I’m going to meet up with the girls now!” you called out. “I don’t wanna be late for dinner!”

“Have fun, sweetheart!” he replied.

After quickly opening up a portal right to that familiar building in New York, you stepped inside, instantly spotting Stephen.

“Hey,” he said lowly. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you said with a little giggle.

He stepped over to you and quickly closed the gap between the two of you. “I need you so bad.”

Still giggling, you tilted your head at him. “You only saw me a few hours ago…”

“That’s too long.” Stephen laughed, pressing his lips to yours. He gave you a long, deep, wild kiss, his big hands on your hips. “What lie did you tell your dad today?”

“I said I was going out to dinner with friends.” You pressed your lips to his again, loving the feeling of Stephen gripping your hips tighter. He pulled you up against him and it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was just as eager to have you as you were to have him. Your legs wrapped around him as he carried you, and you knew exactly where he was taking you. It was a place you had been to many times before, and that was his bedroom.

Stephen threw you to the bed before covering your body with his own. He was all big and broad as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue darting right into your mouth as he grabbed your hands and pinned them to the bed. You could feel him getting hard from behind his pants as he ground into you, your hunger for him growing so fast. Your lips and tongues were clashing together as you pushed your hands through Stephen’s locks, tugging at them as you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. God, you wanted him. And from the feeling of his hard cock pushing up against you, you were pretty sure he was craving you just as bad.

“Please, Stephen,” you said when you pulled away from his lips, making sure your voice was light and teasing. “Please, I want it.”

He let out a deep grunt above you. “You want it, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you want, huh? What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take me,” you whispered. “I want you to take me and make me all yours. I just wanna be yours. Please. Please, Daddy.”

And you knew that nickname was gonna make him lose it. A second later, his hands were on your top, pushing it over your head before he tossed it to the side. Eager, big hands yanked your jeans down, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Stephen said, tilting his head at you. “Such a gorgeous fucking girl.”

“Please…”

“I’ve got you.” His hands found your panties before he gave them a harsh tug down your legs, and then you were completely exposed for him, every part of you utterly on show. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Mm, what would your dad say if he saw me staring at you like this? He’d be so mad if he knew I was looking at his daughter all naked for me.”

“Yeah, he’d be pretty angry,” you said with a little chuckle.

He ran a thumb against your slit, moving it up towards your clit where he gave the little bud a rub.

“Very angry,” he continued. “Especially since I’m your teacher. Your much, much older teacher. Ooh, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

He was working your clit just right, rubbing and rubbing as his eyes scanned all over your body. You wanted to feel him, wanted him to fill you up already, but you let him circle his thumb against your clit, your toes curling as your hands yanked and pulled at his sheets.

“So close,” you whispered. “So close, Daddy.”

“Cum for me. Cum for me right now.”

You were pretty sure only Stephen could make you cum on demand. You writhed underneath him as your orgasm took over, pure pleasure and heat taking over your body as Stephen undressed before you. Soon, he was all bare, his hard cock on show as he pulled you right onto his lap, your pussy hovering right over his tip before he pulled you down onto him, the swollen head pushing into you with ease thanks to how soaked you were.

“Oh my God,” you let out, your eyes quickly shutting. “God, feels so good.”

“Good girl. Take it. Take my cock,” Stephen murmured below you. His hands landed on your hips, holding you in place so you could work your pussy along his length.

With shaky hands, you rested them against Stephen’s chest. Pleasure was already pumping through your body as you lifted yourself up and firmly pushed back down on his cock, letting him fill you up to the brim.

“Oh, Stephen,” you cried out, your nipples hard and your pussy soaked, and your need to cum once again rising.

“That’s it. Ride my cock,” Stephen said. “Your poor father is back at the Avengers compound, waiting for you to get back to him, huh? But here you are on my cock screaming out my name.”

You gasped as you began to bounce on his cock, that swollen tip hitting that sweet spot so deep inside of you. You threw your head back as you worked your pussy up and down, up and down. It all felt so good. So filthy and bad, but so good at the same time.

“Feels so nice, Stephen,” you let out. “Your cock feels so nice.”

“Yeah? Keep riding it. Don’t stop until you cum around my cock. Come on. Don’t stop.”

You whimpered and worked your pussy up and down his cock faster, letting out little squeals every time the swollen head of his cock hit that spot so, so deep inside of you. Your pussy was stuffed with his cock, your little hole all soaked and dripping as Stephen pushed his cock so deep inside of you.

“I’m so close,” you said with a whisper. You could feel your orgasm blossoming. The delicious feeling that you were chasing. It was right there for you to grab as you bounced more and more, your nails almost digging into Stephen’s chest as he thrusted into you deep and hard from underneath. It was too much for you as you came around his cock right then and there. “Daddy, fuck. Oh, God. Please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop. I won’t fucking stop until you cum.”

“Mm, Stephen. Please. Please, please, please.” You weren’t even sure why you were begging or what you were begging for. All you knew was that Stephen felt so good buried deep inside of you. He always took you so good. Every single time. But you were always taken aback by how well he knew your body.

“Good fucking girl.” Stephen’s teeth were clenched as he flipped you both over, his cock pulling out of you. His scarred hands found your hips as he turned you around, your stomach on the bed. He grabbed at your hips, maneuvering your body so that you were on your hands and knees. “There we fucking go,” he said. “You think I’m done? Not even close.”

With that, you felt the soaked head of his cock brush up against your entrance, and then he was slamming his cock into you a second later. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him stretch you out, the sensation drawn out and oh-so-delicious. It was filthy, but you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You feel so good, Stephen,” you said as Stephen pushed into you from behind. Deep. He was so deep. So deep you could feel every inch of him, his heavy balls pressed right up against your pussy. Your fingers clawed at the sheets beneath you, desperate to cling on to something as he took you and made you all his. “Feels… Feels so nice, Daddy.”

“I know. I fucking know,” Stephen muttered. “Mm, your dad would be so mad if he saw you like this, huh? He’d be so pissed off seeing you bent over with your ass in the air like this. With you taking my fucking cock.”

“He’d be so mad,” you said with a little sigh. “He’d be so angry if he saw what you were doing to me.”

“Yeah, he’d be real fucking pissed, wouldn’t he?”

“Mhm,” you said, your eyes half closed.

You were getting lost in the pleasure of it all. Stephen was pumping his cock into you deep and fast and hard and rough, stretching you out so perfectly and taking you in a way only he could. He was balls deep inside of you, your little hole completely stuffed to the brim with his cock as he pulled out and slammed back into you with a deep, masculine grunt.

“Stephen,” you whined. “Mm, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he muttered. “You like that big, hard cock, sweetheart?”

“I… I do. So much!”

“That feels so good, doesn’t it?” Stephen mumbled. “I want you to cum for me. I want you to cum right around my cock. You’re so close. I can tell you’re close.”

He was right. You could already feel yourself clenching around his cock, that pleasure growing inside of you so fast you could barely take it. He kept sliding his cock deep inside of you, fucking you so deep that you were certain you could feel him in your stomach. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you let him fuck you. You let him take you and make you all his, his length stretching you out and the swollen tip of his cock hitting that spot again and again. The feeling was so intense and wild, your pussy dripping wet and your need to meet your peak growing by the second. Your shaky fingers grabbed the sheets below you as you desperately cried out, your pussy being fucked and stuffed and pounded from behind. It was all too much. Too good. You couldn’t hold on much longer. You could feel how close you were, how wet you were, how hungry you were to cum.

“Stephen,” you cried out. “So close. I’m so… I’m so…”

“Cum for me,” he muttered from behind you, his fingers digging into your ass. “Cum for me. Cum right around my cock. Do it. I know you wanna do it. I know you’re close. Just fucking cum for me.”

It was with one more deep, long thrust of his cock that you lost all control. It just felt too good and soon you were cumming right around his cock, your pussy gushing and soaking his length as he carried on pounding into you from behind. You screamed out his name and fell to the bed, and then a second later, you heard Stephen let out a deep grunt as he pushed into you hard and fast. He was cumming too. You could feel him emptying himself inside of you, the liquid hot and sticky as he coated your walls with his seed. It was filthy and wrong. You both knew that. Stephen was so much older than you and he was one of your dad’s friends, but God, you just couldn’t help but love being so raw and dirty for him. You were pretty sure he loved it just as much as you did.

“Mm, Stephen,” you said softly. “So good.”

He was panting from behind as he flipped you over and got you settled on your back. Your mind was all hazy as he moved into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, cleaning you up gingerly. It was funny that he could be so rough and animalistic when fucking you but then so sweet and gentle when it was all over and done with.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he got into bed, sliding up next to you.

You nodded. “I’m okay. Tired, but okay. Who wouldn’t be tired after all of that?”

He pulled you close to him, your head on his broad chest and his arm wrapped around you. You laid there in pure silence, with you listening to the sound of Stephen’s heartbeat in your ear. It was a comforting sound.

“You know, your dad would kill me if he saw you in bed with me like this,” he murmured. “He’d strangle me himself, or set his entire team onto me.”

Looking up at him, you gave him a playful roll of your eyes. “You say that all the time.”

“Well, he’d be pretty mad, don’t you think?”

Craning your neck, you gave him a little kiss. “Well, we better hope that we never get caught. That won’t end too well.”

“No, it won’t.” He laughed before his eyes landed on the clock. “How long do we have until you need to get back home?”

You followed his gaze to the clock. “Um, about an hour.”

“So, that means we have enough time for round two then, huh?”

Giggling, you looked back into his eyes. “At least let me get a little bit of rest first.”

He hummed and held you closer, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose into his neck as you got lost in the feeling of him. He was right about your dad being pissed. There was no way he’d approve of you being with Stephen, but at that moment, you told yourself to forget about the consequences and focus on the wonderful feeling of being there in Stephen’s arms. You were pretty sure there was nothing better than being tangled up with him.

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brunchable · 3 months ago

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Mini Series

All I Ask - Part I - Part II - Part III Devotion or Delusion - Part I - Part II - Part III Can't Love You in the Dark - Part I - Part II - Part III Into The Looking Glass - Part I - Part II A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be

Not Safe for Work (18+)

Dirty Laundry - Part I Part II Poisonous Touch - A Touch of Jealousy 5 More Minutes Same Ol' Mistakes Sweet

Oneshot

We Can't Be Friends Untamed Chaos I'd Choose You, No Other Way, Glimpse of Us, To Be Close To You, Till There Was You, My Girl HALLOWEEN SPECIALS

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #benedict cumberbatch imagine #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange imagine #doctor strange x female reader #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x y/n #stephen strange x female reader

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romanoffshouse · 1 year ago

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[Y/N and the Avengers sitting in the living room.]

Y/N: Can I tell you a joke?

Steve: Sure.

Y/N: [starts to grin and looked at doctor strange and then back to Steve]

Y/N: Knock, knock

Steve: Who's their?

Y/N: Doctor

Steve: Doctor Who?

Y/N: No, Doctor Strange.

[Everyone starts laughing except of Doctor Strange]

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darsynia · 2 months ago

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Fate and Fairy Tales (Stephen Strange/Reader)

MCU Masterlist | Steve | Bucky | Tony

Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme spoke your soulmate Words while the magic of Kamar Taj healed your life-threatening wounds. Overwhelmed, you seek to hide your bond and save him from a lifetime of protecting someone as ordinary as you. The time comes to spend a week at the Sanctum, usually a reward for someone at your training level-- but will you make it through with your secrets intact?

Words/Warnings: 4,500 // none

This is a gift for the lovely @sobeautifullyobsessed, I do hope you enjoy! Here's an excerpt to tempt anyone else who might be interested! gif by @doctorstrangegifsparadise

“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.

You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.

“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”

His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.

“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”

Fate and Fairy Tales

Routine is important in Kamar Taj. You’re not much of a routine girl, but you’ve done your best to make up for that, something that’s gotten you recognized as a hard worker. There’s only one thing you’ve managed to dodge so far: a week-long assignment at the New York Sanctum. It’s practically a vacation, with easy work as a caretaker for the Artifacts, scheduled magic use to keep the defensive shielding active, and the opportunity to study some of the books that don’t leave the premises. The real draw for most of your colleagues is personalized instruction from the Sorcerer Supreme.

That's the part you’re worried about.

With your head down, you head for the library, crossing the courtyard by a less-traveled path. Despite this, the silver-threaded soulmate Words on your ankle itch under the leather band you’ve covered them with. Usually that means that Strange is in the vicinity. Though you don’t remember the catastrophic attack that brought you to the sanctuary for rescue, you do remember the flurry of magic and healing that followed.

The only face you recall is that of the tall, attractive man in mystical robes bending close to your crumpled form. He’d rested a steady hand on your cheek and spoken with authority. Look at me--you’re safe now.

They say soulmate Words burn at the magical moment they’re first spoken. You wouldn’t know; the agony you’d felt on that day has been mercifully removed from your mind; you and your magical healers had agreed to wipe your memories of the events leading up to your arrival. That indelible moment is all that’s left. Everything before your life in Kamar Taj has faded into a distant haze, a rare but warned-for side-effect.

A different kind of magic vibrates in your ankle, so much so that you stop and press your back against one of the columns at the edge of the courtyard, closing your eyes. Strange has to be very close by, but you’re off the usual path, and you’ve never spoken to him, so you know his Words won’t buzz from your presence. It isn’t that you’re afraid or repelled by him, far from it. He’s a charismatic leader, powerful to the extreme, and very handsome. You? You don’t even remember the person you were before learning to attune the Mystic Arts.

There’s no way to know what the Fates had in mind when they branded the two of you, but you suspect you’ve fallen far short of their plans. As a wealthy, talented surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange was always out of your league, but now he’s the Sorcerer Supreme for a powerful cadre of magic users. It’s practically your duty to see that your ships pass quietly in the night, and you’ve done your best to see him as nothing more than the aloof leader of your mystic order. Besides, he deserves a partner as powerful, notable, and charismatic as he is.

To cover the resonant sound of his voice as Strange’s group walks by, you cast a sound-muffling incantation. Soon, the agitation in your ankle fades, replaced by the dull, hollow feeling of a missed connection.

Each time this happens, the ache lasts longer, meaning you’ll be in agony by the end of a week spent in Strange’s company. It’s going to be a nightmare to deal with that pain and the constant vigilance of avoiding directly speaking to your soulmate. The exhaustion alone might put you in danger of a slip up. Now that you can’t avoid your Sanctum assignment, the only thing left to do is persuade the Powers That Be to let you spend your time there under a Silence spell, preferably without explaining why.

Unfortunately, that Power is likely to be Wong, and he’s not known to Be all that lenient.

“--and that’s why I intend to spend the next two weeks under a Silence Vow,” you say, hoping your constructed excuses sound plausible.

Wong hasn’t said more than ten words since you walked in, but his expression speaks volumes. “You’re scheduled for the Sanctum in two days. You can do it when you get back.”

You start for the door with a decisiveness you absolutely don’t feel, hoping to get away with your plan via sheer audacity. “What would you say if I couldn’t speak in the first place, hmm? It’ll be a challenge! Thrive in adversity, and all of that.”

“Sonnet?”

A warm sense of belonging strikes you on hearing the name you’re known by here at Kamar Taj, and you pause to look back at Wong.

“If the Sorcerer Supreme gives his permission, I suppose a week isn’t the end of the world.”

You spend all of your energy preventing your shoulders from slumping as you nod and rush through the door.

It takes you 12 hours to come up with what to do.

Your plan is audacious and absurd, but what convinces you to do it is the knowledge that it’s an act of protection for both Strange and Kamar Taj itself. Someone clearly meddled with the proper order of things to mark you as soulmates, and you’re just… setting things right.

Besides, you’ve been putting your library books back on the returns shelf with portals since three months after you came here, so your plan is only four times more ill-advised than that.

You don’t have to go just outside the Sorcerer Supreme’s study to place your request for an official Period of Silence in his ‘to be fulfilled’ inbox (the existence of which you confirmed with one of your friends, who works as a part-time admin for Kamar Taj leadership), but your Words’ penchant for vibrating in his vicinity is uniquely useful tonight.

Right before you complete the mission, you cast the intricate, personalized incantation you devised to steal away your voice for the following seven days, just in case. No one will know it’s a spell unless they detect as much, but it’ll stop you from speaking out of turn and literally ruining everything.

That turns out not to have been necessary, though. There’s no alarm, no floodlight, no magical imprisoning sentry spell to trap you in place for the room’s owner to come discover what you’d been up to. You simply sneak back out the way you came, silently congratulating yourself on a job well done.

You implement the crucial second part of your plan the second you arrive at the Sanctum: detached competence. You place the groceries you purchased in their places, check the cleanliness of the kitchen and the efficacy of the appliances and tools, and move on to begin laundering all of the towels, sheets, and other cloth items throughout the building. That started, you embark on a deep clean of each floor. The goal is to both seem extremely busy and foolish to have taken on such a labor-intensive plan. It would be crazy to question your actions, given how overdue most of the work is.

The problem? Dr. Stephen Strange is crazy.

Your first encounter at the Sanctum happens one hour into your self-appointed task of thoroughly cleaning every Artifact display case. He’d arrived in the building fifteen minutes ago, according to your erstwhile ankle monitor, the buzzing of which feels almost audible by the time Strange walks into the room. You are on the floor underneath one of the largest display cases, halfway through a painstaking rag and q-tip removal of all residual dust.

With a surprised cough, the Sorcerer Supreme casts a spell to clear the air, rushing over shortly afterwards to crouch down and frown in your direction.

“What on Earth are you--” he starts to say, but you interrupt by lifting up the discard tray full of lemon-scented dusty q-tips, wordlessly tapping it against your industrial-sized spray-can of Pledge. “Must have been one hell of a lost bet,” Strange observes. You shake your head and move to clean out another line of dusty crevices, shaken by how attractive you find his frustrated amusement.

You wrestle with that for a three-dirty-q-tip-long pause before he speaks again.

“You could just use magic for that, you know.”

You swing your head out sideways to offer a skeptical look, which he answers by casting what is probably intended to be a cleaning spell on your next dust target. With as neutral an expression as you can manage, you swipe at the same area with your Pledge’d rag and hold up the (vaguely less dusty, but still obviously disappointing) evidence.

Your soulmate’s deflated sigh accompanies his departure.

Dinner doesn’t go much better; you’d chosen to make your favorite dish despite the 90 minute prep/cook time. You’d taken reassurance from reports that Strange tends to dislike vapid small talk at the table, but something about your silence makes him attempt it anyway.

At first he fires off a sequence of yes or no questions that end with something that requires a complicated answer, an obvious trap which you can’t help but admire even as you dodge it. Next, he turns on the charm, which would have worked if it weren’t for the secret you’re planning to keep from him for all eternity. Despite this, you can’t help but feel a bit of a thrill when he smiles at you. Strange compliments your recovery, your accelerated course of study, and your particular talents in concealment magic. The latter twinges your conscience; your specialty is in preparation for the worst case scenario, the one where you flee somewhere he can’t find you after speaking his Words.

As dinner winds to a close, Strange turns academic, and you almost break when he muses on the meaning of one of your favorite sonnets.

The man fights dirty.

You do your best to fend it all off with nods, smiles, and the occasional thumbs-up, but you’re definitely shaken. You’d never allowed yourself to see him as a man before, certainly not as a potential love interest. He’s attentive, intellectual, and clever, a trifecta that threatens your entire world-view. Eventually your implacable silence sends him into the kitchen with his newly-cleared plate. Seconds later, he appears in the doorway to glower at you.

“You made cheesecake?”

Your cheerful thumbs-up doesn’t prevent him from eating any, but it looks like a near thing. It seems that Stephen Strange hates mysteries almost as much as he hates not being in control.

The next morning at breakfast, Strange casts two spells on you in rapid succession. One is a diagnostic spell that leaves a harsh ringing in your ears-- and the second strips away your silence evocation. You’re left feeling anxious and exposed, but you lean into it and shrug defensively, hoping he’ll get so annoyed by your obstinance that he leaves you alone. Stephen Strange is very handsome when he’s upset, which is a twisted silver lining, to be sure.

You’d almost purged your mind of Strange thoughts (an exercise much more difficult than you would have expected, may the fates be damned) when he steps up behind you while you’re scrubbing windows. Almost the entire day has passed; it’s now the magic twilight time where you can see your reflection in the window but still look through it to see the cityscape beyond. The light outside is beautiful, hovering between golden and navy blue in a way that accentuates the ancient garb Strange is wearing.

“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.

“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”

“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”

You indulge your instinctive, annoy-thy-neighbor movement to spin around and pat at his chest reassuringly. You’d have said something snarky and encouraging to his Cloak Artifact, but instead the warmth of his chest under your hand and the determined look on his face steal your words away. Briskly, you play off your physical reaction by pretending you’d missed a spot on the window closer to the door.

Once in the hallway, you lean up against the wall and just breathe for a while.

The third day at the Sanctum always comes with one-on-one instruction with the Sorcerer Supreme. You wake with the weight of the world strung up above you, held at bay by the slender threads of your resolve.

Skipping breakfast, you opt for nuclear-grade coffee from a highly-recommended shop nearby. Strange had been absent from dinner the night before, which means the last time you saw him was during your heated confrontation at the window.

For the upcoming metaphorical and instructional battle with Stephen Strange, you choose Kamar Taj battle-dress. The rich, full robes allow for easy movement, which you complement with leather padding for your knees, elbows, and forearms. It’s your heart that’s the least armored today, an oversight you hadn’t considered. As you walk toward the practice room, all you can do is remind yourself how important Stephen Strange is to your order, to humanity in particular, even to the universe as a whole after his confrontation with Dormammu. If he were destined to be with someone ‘ordinary,’ it would be a skilled, compassionate doctor like Christine Palmer, not a woman with no past and an uncertain future.

To your surprise, Strange proceeds to spend the session treating you with kindness, showing no cynicism, sarcasm, or frustration whatsoever. He even weaves poetry into his instruction, the words shocking and romantic coming from that rich, practically sensual voice of his.

“In the absence of a more pleasing sound, close your eyes and listen to my voice, then watch my hands, then you can try it yourself.”

At that, you almost trip on your own feet. Thankfully, Strange was turned away and maybe didn’t see-- but did he somehow know you’d thought of his voice in the same way Shakespeare had written in one of your favorite sonnets? ‘I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound…’

“I know your brain is beguiled by book learning, but you must trust me that practice is the best way to achieve this particular attunement.”

On hearing that one, you drop the mystical pattern you’d been conjuring and frown at him. His own concentration dips, sending his spinning geometric leaves colliding into a shower of sparks that fade into fairy dust.

“What’s wrong?”

You put your hands on your hips, conveying as much ‘give me a break’ as possible.

His voice is gentle. “I thought you liked poetry.”

You almost retort. For a heart-stopping second you wonder if he’s trying to bait out some snarky, poem-related comment for fate to slice into his skin, but no. There’s no way he wouldn’t have magically commanded you to speak if that were the case, not when you’re known throughout Kamar Taj as Sonnet. This cements your resolve, and you convert your anxiety to kinetic magic and conjure a large version of the advanced shield he’d been teaching you to create. You make eye contact with him through the pulsing lines of the pattern, and he dips his head as if to concede the point.

It’s a turning point, a moment when the rightness of fate feels like it’s rubbing through your paper-thin defenses-- but when you focus on the backs of your hands instead of his piercing eyes, you see the defensive scars from your attack. Every reason you’re staying silent crashes back through, and you twist your fingers, spinning the shield into a spiral that guards you on the way to the door.

There you curtsey and leave, pressing the shield against the door on the other side to prevent yourself from being followed.

Seconds later you run smack into your soulmate. He’d opened a portal directly in your way with such precision that his Words on your ankle didn’t even have time to warn you. He catches you against him with one hand splayed across your back and the other clasping your exposed upper arm. Both of you gasp.

Your nerves are singing. It’s glorious and terrifying, stealing your breath such that you must close your eyes against its strength, held in fate’s embrace despite all your efforts to avoid it. The hallway is silent except for heavy, stunned breathing.

Strange swipes a warm caress with his thumb across the skin of your arm and steps back, steadying you for those first bereft seconds-- and then he lets out a deep chuckle.

“This is the reason. Your silence, your avoidance. This!”

It’s somehow both the perfect response and a completely unexpected one. You don’t know whether to be offended or tempted, so you lift your chin and cross your arms tightly, stubbornly leaving your eyes closed.

His chuckle has graduated to a beautiful full laugh. “All these years I thought you were a patient. Someone broken, someone I couldn’t fix. When I came here I accepted that I lost my chance-- and yet here you are! Talented in the Mystic Arts, unafraid of hard work, and as obstinate as I am. Do you even understand how relieved--”

You stagger back, eyes flying open in complete disbelief.

His beautiful eyes search yours, hands held up in the classic ‘not a threat’ pose, though you know differently. You shake your head, seeing his body relax and loosen in response, even as you clench up even more.

He cannot be serious.

Insidious joy seeps across the short distance between you, reminding you of the physical delight true soulmates find in each other. Isn’t Strange the one who knows most about the challenges he faces as the Sorcerer Supreme? If he isn’t concerned, why should--

No. That’s magic speaking, not reason.

You wheel around, turning your back on him. Your heart is a gash inside your chest, and the only way to heal it is to board the whole thing back up. Opening up a portal will give him a chance to follow you, but you’ve been practicing concealment for many months.

“Dear Diary,” you say in a clear, ringing voice, aiming at the dim ceiling rather than the man behind you. “Today I saved a great man from a terrible decision.”

“Oh, Sonnet, don’t,” your soulmate whispers behind you.

You are salt tear crystals compressed into stone as you continue walking away. In your mind’s eye, his confusion and dismay will soon turn into resolute understanding. There’s no other logical option.

“With galactic responsibilities like his,” you continue, “such a man cannot harbor weakness in the form of an inconsequential, imperfect partner--”

His voice is commanding as he interrupts. “You’re wrong.”

You are wrong, but about Strange’s wisdom, as it seems your soulmate is bewitched by the allure of magical bonding. It’s not his fault. He had given up, hadn’t considered the consequences, not like you have. Inside your chest is a hurricane of please yes and please no, swirling around your impenetrable heart.

Never since your arrival in Kamar Taj --never since you’d heard this man’s voice speak your Words-- had you imagined you’d ever be tempted to change your mind, but oh, oh, you hadn’t been prepared for him to disagree with your choice to reject the bond.

Ahead of you, the pair of ornate doors that protect this wing of the Sanctum swing closed, the metal bolt slamming home with a loud clang.

You start gathering magic for your escape. “So, Diary, for the good of all, I must reject the generous offer fate has made to me--”

Strange interrupts to correct you, his tone achingly gentle. “To US. ‘ I fear no fate-- for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world-- for beautiful, you are my world--’”

The storm in your chest bursts forth into a torrent of tears. That poem by e. e. cummings has always been your favorite, and to have it used against you -! You throw your hands out at your sides, bursting open the doors to the rooms beside you and further still, breaking the windows you’d so recently cleaned.

You need access to as much magic as you can pull from the world at large, and it gathers in your outstretched fists, furious and barely constrained. Embers of magic dart out to sink into your ankle, while others dance around you to fly off out of sight behind you, probably into Strange. Many seconds have passed, and you recognize your mistake in facing away and thus being unprepared for whatever his next move is, but you’re a breath away from casting your spell.

You’d practiced up to this moment a dozen times, triangulating your inner being on a single point, a necessary point in time and space. When you release your grasped magic, you’ll burst into countless points of light and coalesce at that one place. It’s the last step, the one you haven’t been able to complete yet, as it’s limited to one try. Wong’s precious library had taught it to you as the Sorcerer’s Elusion, a combination of illusion and eluding capture.

“Go on,” Strange says behind you, an odd sort of acceptance in his voice. The exultation from his capitulation is the last burst of energy you needed, and you complete the spell, slamming your hands together in an explosion of pain and panacea.

You arrive in a heap at Stephen Strange’s feet.

“No! What?” you groan.

Stephen throws himself down and pulls you to his chest, one hand brushing the tear-wet hair from your eyes. “I’m sorry, dearest.”

You’re completely spent, but the magically-crafted, fate-tuned pleasure in his touch is sour in the back of your throat as you struggle to pull back. You forget yourself in that moment, aiming your misery and disappointment directly at him. “Just give up! I’m too broken, it’s not right!”

“That has never been true, and it never will be,” your soulmate says. “Trust me, I’ve been there.”

He strokes his fingers across the fists you’re shoving him away with, and even through your tear-blurred eyes you can see the scars he also bears. “You deserve better,” you whisper.

“How far into the tome did you read, about the Elusion?”

“You’re just trying to distract me.” The quaver in your voice nullifies your attempt at outrage.

“No, I’m trying to figure out whether you’re impulsive or arrogant,” Stephen says, clearly amused. You lift your head and glare at him, but the damned man cups your face with his hand just as he’d done when speaking your Words. “It’s only been cast successfully three times, Sonnet. If that’s not proof you’re worthy to stand beside me, I don’t know what is.”

You blink up at him in disbelief, your instinctive retort falling flat. “There’s no chance that’s true.”

His smile is heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “You’re right, in a way-- it’s four times now. All of the others were life or death situations.” He lifts you up to a stand with impossible grace, adding, “We’ll never live it down, I hope you know that.”

“Hang on, now!” you burst out, frowning against the rush of rightness his words engender. “There’s no we! You and I barely know each other! I’ve spent our entire acquaintance avoiding you, and I just broke a bunch of the windows in the Sanctum attempting to--”

“--ruin my life, yes, I know. There are some trouble spots.”

“Trouble spots?!" Your lifelong instinct during outrageous moments such as these has always been to pace around, sometimes while gesticulating, but when you start, your soulmate catches your hand in his, arresting your spin. He tugs, and though you hold onto your reluctance as a matter of habit, you end up standing in front of him.

Only then do the words ‘ruin my life’ register, and it’s enough to cement your feet in place and really look at him. He seems utterly sincere, gentle even, and he uses that opportunity to take your other hand, clasping both lightly, a low-dipping bridge between the two of you.

“I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. Is that all right?”

“I suppose,” you say, instead of ‘yes.’

There’s heat in the little chastising glare he offers, but Stephen just says, “Did you research soulmates?”

“Yes.”

“Did you research me?”

You bite your lip. “Yes.”

“You researched escape mechanisms, both physical and mystic?”

“Yes.”

“Did you research fairy tales?”

Your brows crinkle up. “What?”

Stephen squeezes your joined hands and smiles. “In fairy tales about lovers, the couple often must use magic in some transformative way to defeat the obstacle to ‘ever after.’ You just defeated yourself. Was it enough, or should I start looking out for feathers or bark while I get to know you? I don’t think I'd make a very good tree.”

There’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach. It flutters there, and every time it makes contact with your innards, you feel more comfortable with this possible future.

It seems like… there’s a chance… it just might be joy.

“Oh, come on, you’d make a majestic tree, what are you even talking about?”

Stephen looks at you like you matter, and it’s heady and glorious until the expression starts to fracture into amusement, and his eyes widen. “No, trust me, trust me,” he gasps out, holding back a laugh. He pulls your joined hands up to his chest and drags you close, looking more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him, not that you’ve let yourself be near enough to really say that.

“Tell me,” you whisper, scared he’s just thought of something that means you were right all along, now that you’re almost on board with the crazy insanity that is being his soulmate.

“It’s a poetry joke. I thought of a perfect, terrible poetry joke. You were right to-- well no, you weren’t, but--”

Stephen shakes his head and swoops down, capturing your lips in a brief, intense kiss before he says, “Could you consider the Road Not Taken with me?”

Your lips buzz with possibilities, but something makes you shake off your happy intoxication just long enough to examine why Stephen is so very apologetic. In your head, you pull out the memory of the Robert Frost poem he’s referenced. Two roads diverge in a yellow-- WOOD.

“There it is,” Stephen murmurs.

“Maybe I do deserve you,” you grumble. His triumphant bark of laughter warms you from the inside out.

“I certainly hope so,” he rumbles, sliding a possessive hand into your hair and tipping your head up for a kiss. When your lips meet, all of the best lines of poetry in your memory coalesce into the perfect sonnet about how love (and obstinacy) conquers all.

#stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #romance #soulmate au #humor #btw yes in fact i do know i will get more readers if i tag people but this happens to be the single only thing i'm fucking shy about #laugh about that for me lol

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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

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Rooted Fates (Doctor Strange)

Summary: Stephen feels familiar with you but he doesn't quite know why.

WC: 1k

Warnings: none? soulmate au?

requested: Hello! May I please request a Soulmates AU fic of Stephen Strange and fem!Reader (who has healing magic & botanical manipulation) and they fall in love again in their current lifetime? (I love fluffy romantic soulmate AUs!) @groovy-lady

read on ao3!

---

The night was quiet in the Sanctum Sanctorum, save for the soft hum of arcane energy that lingered in the air. Stephen Strange stood in the dimly lit library, his fingers tracing the edges of a weathered tome, lost in its pages but distracted by something deeper—an almost unshakable feeling that something was missing. It was a sensation he couldn't quite place, like a persistent whisper he could never quite hear clearly enough to understand.

Then, the door creaked open, and a soft voice broke through his reverie.

“Stephen.”

He looked up, his sharp features softening slightly as he met your gaze. You were standing in the doorway, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips. The air around you seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, a gentle aura that wrapped around you like a second skin. Your magic—botanical manipulation and healing—was always subtle but powerful, like the way a garden seemed to breathe life into a space.

You weren't just beautiful, though that much was obvious to anyone who’d ever looked at you. It was something else, something deeper. The connection between the two of you stretched beyond this lifetime, beyond this reality. And though Stephen didn’t understand it fully, he knew it was undeniable.

You closed the door behind you and stepped further into the room, the warm light from the candles flickering across your face. The flowers that had once been so bright and vibrant in your presence were now blooming softly in the corners of the room, their petals glowing faintly.

“Busy?” you asked, your voice carrying that familiar warmth that never failed to ease the tension in his chest.

“Not really,” Stephen replied, closing the book with a soft snap. He pushed it aside and looked at you, though his eyes held a distant curiosity. “What is it, Y/N?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing the room to stand before him. “You’re always lost in those books, Stephen,” you teased softly, your fingers brushing his. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like the entire universe had paused. The touch of your hand on his sent a ripple of recognition through his chest, as though some long-forgotten memory had awoken.

He blinked, his breath catching for a moment. He knew you, he knew you.

But not from this life.

A ripple of images flashed behind his eyes—another life, another time. The two of you, in a meadow filled with flowers, your hands entwined as you whispered secrets to one another. The feel of your breath on his skin, the warmth of your touch. It was a feeling of peace, of home, but it was fleeting, vanishing before he could fully grasp it.

“Stephen?” you asked again, your voice a little quieter this time, concern lining your features.

He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear the sudden onslaught of memories. “Sorry. I... I just had a moment.”

You frowned slightly but didn’t push him. Instead, you stepped closer, your magic wrapping around both of you like a protective cocoon, filling the room with the scent of fresh earth and growing things. “Is everything alright?”

Stephen swallowed hard, unsure how to explain what he had felt—the recognition, the weight of it. The connection between you wasn’t new, but it felt like something more than just fate. It was as if the two of you had known each other across lifetimes. He couldn’t put it into words, but the magic between you—the way it pulsed in time with his own heartbeat—spoke a truth his mind couldn’t yet comprehend.

“I think I remember you,” he said finally, his voice rough with the raw honesty of his admission.

You blinked, your expression softening with understanding. “You remember me from before, don’t you?”

The words hit him like a wave, crashing over him and pulling him under. Before.

“Yes,” he whispered, his hands shaking slightly as he reached out for you, his fingers brushing your wrist. “It’s all coming back now. We were... together before. Weren’t we?”

You smiled softly, your eyes bright with emotion. “Yes. We’ve been through this many times, Stephen. We’ve always found each other.”

Stephen’s heart stuttered in his chest. “How... how is that possible?”

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his chest. “We’re soulmates, Stephen. We always have been. I was always the one who healed you, and you... you taught me how to grow. It’s not a love that ends with each life; it simply changes, evolves.”

The weight of the truth settled around him, and he could feel the stirrings of his own magic responding to yours, the bond between you two undeniable. In this life, he had been so lost in his pursuit of power, in his quest to protect the world, that he’d almost missed the most important thing. You.

And now, with you standing before him, he realized what he had always needed, always longed for, even before he had understood the magic of it.

“You healed me before,” Stephen murmured, his voice thick with the depth of emotion he’d been holding back for so long. “You fixed me, even when I didn’t think I could be fixed.”

You smiled, your touch gentle as you cupped his face in your hands. “I heal because of you, Stephen. You taught me the importance of growth—of not just mending what’s broken but nurturing it so it can flourish.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “And now... now I understand. It wasn’t just about the magic. It was about us. All of this time... all of these lives. I was meant to love you, wasn’t I?”

You kissed him then, soft and slow, the magic between you building with every touch. There was no rush, no need for urgency, just the slow, steady rhythm of two souls reuniting after a long, long time apart.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling. “Yes. You were always meant to love me. And I was always meant to love you, Stephen Strange.”

As he held you, feeling the quiet power of your connection fill every corner of his being, Stephen knew this was just the beginning. In this lifetime, he would make sure to never let you go, to always nurture the love between you, to grow with you in every possible way.

After all, love was magic—and he had finally found his true spell.

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange fanfics #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange fluff #doctor strange fanart #doctor strange fic #stephen strange fanfic #stephen strange fluff

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geeky-politics-46 · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight.

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room.

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up.

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts.

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong."

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -"

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see.

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?"

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself.

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..."

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion.

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?"

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath."

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses.

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck.

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun.

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too."

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face.

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. "

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together."

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers.

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera.

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides.

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink.

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours.

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine."

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights.

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby."

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind.

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move.

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting.

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess."

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements.

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb.

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter.

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind.

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

--------------------------------

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stupidthoughtsinwriting · 10 months ago

Text

Glimpse of Us

Summary: Years after the faithful night, reality brings the two back together, with all the years of unresolved pain, feelings and comparisons

Warning: Angst is all the warning I can think off ehehhe, Hard core Angst

Note: ehehehehe the long awaited sequel to She use to be mine is finally here! After what? nearly 2 years. its finally here! I'm so sorry for the long wait and thank you to those who encouraged me to continue on with the next part. I won't dawdle on and let you lot enjoy the concoction i seem to have mustered on. ehehe again sorry for the months delay.

oh and i almost forgot, the italics are best imagined as her singing

P.S. I drafted this post 7 or 8 months after the first part and dear god, how time has passed. Looking back at the story, I'm not really too proud of this one and ended it because I really have no idea how to continue it. I have an idea for a next part (dangerous words coming from me) but I'm not gonna set a date for when I post it because we all know how the last part turned out. Anyways enjoy

😊❤️💛💚💙💜🖤😊 -T

‘Hey, you’re up in five’`

‘Yah sure, just touching up’ you say as you smacked your lips after applying a bit of lip gloss.

‘You don’t need it’ he replied.

‘Still. I can’t believe I agreed to this’ you scoffed, fiddling with your hair for the hundredth time.

‘You’ll do great’ he smiled ‘Now your hair is fine, you look amazing, and I have to go. Break a leg’ he bid before getting on stage to rouse the crowd. Admittedly, you are nervous. You wouldn’t call yourself a singer, but you do have a good enough voice and can hold a tune. You knew it was a mistake singing in front of Harvey and you were only doing this as a favor. God. You checked the mirror one last time before finding it was good enough.

‘Now for tonight’s performance, A very dear friend of mine has agreed to perform tonight, though with a little bit of persuasion.’ Harvey mumbled the last part, getting a laugh from the crowd and a chuckle from yourself ‘She has a voice made by the gods above, though I don’t remember Thor being much of a singer. She can lure you in better than a siren, but I think that’s the other mythology’ he said cheekily.

‘Now, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome a dear friend of mine, Y/N Y/L/N!’ he introduced, that being your cue to emerge from the curtain, you stepped on staged and made your way over to the middle where he and the mic was, the spotlight following your movement. You waved and smiled at the crowd, glad there wasn’t much. Grasping the mic, you chuckled as the small crowd continued to clap.

‘Hi everybody’ you began, getting a hello in response from the crowd ‘Wow, thank you for the warm welcome and thank you Harvey for that unrealistic introduction’ you chuckled with the crowd, turning to Harvey who waved you off.

‘Now, taking something off of Harvey’s speech, I am made by no god or am one. Nor am I a siren from the Greek mythology. It did take some persuading to get me to do this and hopefully I don’t regret it.’ You laughed sheepishly.

‘I don’t normally sing on stage or in public really unless it’s karaoke with friends, which by the way is how I got tricked into doing this, so pardon me if I seem a bit nervous’ you smile shyly. Glancing back at Harvey, with a smile on his face, he nodded, pushing you to continue. Pulling out the rest of the confidence you still had stored, you turned back beaming at the crowd.

‘Now to not keep you waiting any longer, Paul if you will’ you gestured to the man on the piano and he nods before gliding his fingers along the keys, playing the start of the song. Letting out a breath, you closed your eyes, feeling the rhythm of the piano before singing the lyrics. Grabbing hold of the mic, you opened your eyes and began.

He'd take the world off my shoulders

If it was ever hard to move

He'd turn the rain to a rainbow

When I was living in the blue

You let your eyes flutter to a close as you gripped the mic firmly. Swaying your body occasionally to melody.

Why then if he is so perfect

Do I still wish that it was you?

Perfect don't mean that it's working

So what can I do? Ooh

Opening your eyes, you scanned the crowd, completely surprised by how the much you can see of the crowd seemed entranced.

When you’re out of sight

You saw you’re your friends in a booth over on the corner, the people entering the establishment.

In my mind

Then the bar where you found him, staring at you. You locked eyes with those beautiful ocean blue orbs that you love loved so much. Stumbling over your words, you nearly forgot about the song but once the piano keys hit the right note, your lips continued in autopilot.

Cause sometimes I look… in his eyes

And that's where I find

A glimpse of us

Eyes leaving contact, you scanned his entirety. The grey streaks at his temples have grown longer since the last time you saw him. The old clean-shaven face he used to don had a goatee. Prominent lines and creases were evident in his features and really the years have aged him well. He wore a suit, complete with a vest, a red handkerchief in the breast pocket and everything. A glass of whiskey at his side and he was still as handsome as the day you left.

You closed your eyes once more, willing this to just be another trick or hallucination by your imagination. Though it was a horrid idea as memories of the day came back crashing onto you, you let them stay shut as you continued.

And I try to fall for his touch

But I'm thinking of the way it was

There you stood, as beautiful as the day he met you, if not more. In all your beauty, and the signature grin you adorned, you were radiant. Though the spotlight might have something to do with it, you were still a ray of sunshine through the darkest of clouds.

The rest of the world faded out to him and his mind finally faltered. There you were. Standing a few feet away as you introduced yourself. Your hair’s cut short, or at least shorter than the last time he’d seen you. Earrings hid behind your curls and the lightest bit of make-up was applied to your soft features. Though that didn’t hide the blossoming pink tint gracing your cheeks. Your lips glistened with the lip gloss you had on just like you use to. Smile lines drew at the corner of your eyes as you chuckled over your own words, explaining how you ended up in your current situation.

You always smiled, even when you were feeling down, you always smiled. Whether to hide what you were truly feeling or to just be nice to people, you always smiled. He nearly forgot how beautiful that smile was, with only his dreams used to recall that charming grin, since it has been a rarity for him to look you up or even open the box full of pictures during your years together. Even with the picture he kept in his nightstand, he rarely opened the drawer. Funny how this photographic memory of his nearly forgot the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen.

He listened to every single word you uttered as he looked and committed every single detail he could of you to memory. Your hair curled into soft waves, parted and pinned on one side. Your frame, fuller since the last time he saw your thin, nearly skeletal figure on that fateful night. You wore a wine-red wrap top that reached down to your wrists, paired with simple jeans and boots, you looked divine. The dip in the neckline of your shirt revealed the top of your cleavage but the gleaming gold necklace is what caught his attention. It was a simple gold bar plate though engraved with a heartbeat on one side. Common and a bit of a cliché now adays but what was special about that was it was an actual heartbeat. His. He gifted it to you when you both got accepted at Metro General. He explained that it was how his heart beat whenever he thought of you. As you tried to find the words to thank him, he made you turn it over to the other side to another engraving. You know I love you so, it said. A line from one of your favorite songs. He remembered how tears brimmed your eyes as you leaped to him, capturing his lip with yours.

What came as a shock to him now was that you were still wearing it. As he continued to look you over, the sound of your chuckle registered in his ears. God, he loves that sound. A sound he hasn’t heard long before you left. Looking back up to your face, he sees the girl he met all those years ago, buried under piles of books in the library on campus. The very same girl that chuckled at his horrible attempt at a flirtatious first introduction. A small smile tugged at his lips both at the memory and the sound. He hasn’t heard that sound in so long, it was a wonder when he heard it last. He just knew it was long before he fucked up and just chose to relish in the sweet sound now.

Now focusing and giving his undivided attention to your voice now, he listened.

‘I don’t normally sing on stage or in public really unless it’s karaoke with friends, which by the way is how I got tricked into doing this, so pardon me if I seem a bit nervous’ you laugh timidly. A chuckle bubbled at his throat as flashes of you singing whilst cooking in the kitchen of your tiny apartment came into view. Wearing nothing but his shirt as you flipped pancakes, singing from Coldplay to Queen at the top of your lungs or humming to Ed Sheeran whilst you worked and studied case filles.

He knew you enough to know that you were nervous, you didn’t have to say it. After all these years he still knew you better than the back of his scarred hands, heck better than he knows himself.

He saw you look to the side and his eyes followed, landing on the host from earlier. With a smile on his face, he nodded, giving you the reassurance you needed to continue with your performance. And it did, he saw how you pulled the last of your confidence before turning back to the crowd.

A pang of jealousy shot through him as he watched. I mean what did he expect, for you to be alone after all these years. A stupidly selfish part of him even hoped that you’d be waiting for him. To get his act together and you’d be back together. It was incredibly stupid; he knew that but that didn’t stop the creeping grip of jealousy from grasping his heart. As much as he knew how selfish the thought is, that didn’t stop the pain and hurt he felt seeing you look for reassurance in another man. Even after all these years.

The smile he had drawn up earlier had faded to a look of melancholy. It was good you had someone, he thought. Someone to be there for whenever you needed them the most, unlike him.

He watched as you turned and gestured to the pianist who nodded and started to fiddle with the keys. He watched as you took a breath, closed your eyes and began to sway to the smooth melody of the music. A small grin was itching at your lips. You were always more comfortable whenever listening to music and this was evident, unbeknownst to you.

Then you started to sing. You opened your eyes, took a firm grip at the mic and the lyrics just came dripping smoothly from your lips. That melodic voice of yours that he loves so much reminded him of the early mornings in the kitchen, the concerts in the shower and the lullabies to the kids under your care. Little did you know but the sound of your sweet voice always comforted him during the hardest times. He didn’t ask you to sing directly but he always listened whenever you hummed a simple tune or sang a song from some Disney movie to calm the kids in peds ward.

He took in every word that came from your lips. From what he’s heard so far from the first verse, it was about how the man lightened and took away the burden and sorrows the singer felt. The way you sang the song, it was beautiful. It was as if you were truly meaning the words that left your lips and he couldn’t help but feel the envy creeping back up at him, though at the same time, he’s conflicted with relief. He didn’t know if you’ve had someone during the past couple of years but as hurt as he is at the prospect of you with somebody else, it sort of gave him a sense of comfort thinking that you were getting taken care off. It eased some of the weight he felt and often times he thought maybe it was good that you separated. All he'd done with you the last few months of your relationship was hurt and neglect you and if you ever found someone that remedied that, maybe it was for the best that you left.

He watched your eyes flutter to a close again. The way your body moved to the melody of the music completely hypnotized him that his drink was deemed long forgotten.

Why then if he is so perfect, Do I still wish that it was you?

At those words, for some reason that gave him hope. He didn’t know if it was just the song but really, just the way you sang it made it seem all too genuine. He still loves you; he knew that very well. He also knows that he had a better chance in coming up with a new strategy in defeating Thanos (despite the many but one failed attempts he saw using the time stone), than ever getting back in a relationship with you.

You are the most kind, caring and understanding person he knew but you were also stubborn. He might have the chance in getting to apologize and to ask for forgiveness, but a relationship was a billion to one cosmic fluke. Though that didn’t stop him from wondering if you meant those words.

You opened your eyes and continued with the song. He noticed you looking at the growing mass of people watching. From the corner booths to the door, he knew from that growing look at your face that you were surprised to say the least at how many were captivated by your performance.

Then you met his gaze. Those soft blues meeting that beautiful shade of your own eyes. God, how much he loved those shining y/e/c orbs could never be put into words. How they twinkle in the light. The comfort and understanding they held and how they always seem to know he felt.

When he woke up from the crash, the first thing he longed to find were your eyes. The warmth, comfort and security they held, he ached to see those beautiful orbs because for the briefest moments he forgot everything but you. You were his main thought. He forgot about the fight, the neglectful months before, the pale, emaciated figure of yours that haunts his dreams, everything. Only the kind, gorgeous face of the woman he fell for all those years ago stayed in his mind because whenever he thought of comfort, the only thing that formed in his head was, no… is you.

He was hurt, in pain, his body ached, he could barely see let alone open his eyes. He needed comfort, he needed you. But when was life ever nice.

Instead, he was met with the fluorescent lights of the hospital room and the horrific sight of the mangled hands that once led a successful career in medicine. There was no warming gaze to be greeted with, only the sad sympathetic ones he now knows to be from the wrong woman and a cold, sterile room.

Cause sometimes I look… in his eyes

You stumbled over your words as you continued to look at each other. You continued singing but your eyes were locked together. Neither of you could look away. Your mouth moved on autopilot as your eyes lost the spark of a flame you had earlier, just like that night all those years ago, replaced by a reflection of the pain and grief he caused. The very same one that haunts his dreams.

A glimpse of us

You finished, your voice fading as the lyrics came to an end. As soon as the piano tuned out, you smiled and gave a little bow at the crowd who erupted in applause before leaving the stage in a hurry. Welled up tears spilled down warm cheeks as emotions and memories continued to riot your mind. After all these years he still managed to make you cry. Why can’t you move on?

You were quick on getting your belongings from the small prep area behind the stage however your plans of a speedy getaway were quickly ousted by the very same gentleman that perpetrated this whole ordeal.

‘You were amazing! The emotion you put in the performance…’ He continued to ramble on, looking past the curtain and to the roaring crowd cheering on for an encore, completely oblivious of his friend’s distraught state. ‘I mean the teary eyes, come on. Doctoring ever not work for you, acting could be something to con…’ he paused after finally getting a glimpse of you, swiftly wiping away tear streaks that ran down your cheeks but the growing redness in your eyes were dead give aways. ‘Shit’ finally piecing things together, he cursed, his attention fully set on you now. ‘It was real. Fuck, are you okay?’ he asked, finding it difficult figuring out what to do, yet a hint of urgency too as he still had to go back on stage.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ You swallowed, lying through your teeth. ‘I just… have to go’ you mumbled quickly, giving him a grin in hopes to resemble something as composed as the friend he knew. Though he knew you enough to know you were not ‘fine’, with great reluctance he let you go, rushing to the stage shortly after exchanging goodbyes and promising to check with him later.

As your friend went back on stage, you quickly took a survey of your appearance on a nearby mirror, making sure you didn’t look as dreadful as you felt. The bit of makeup you had on survived, however your eyes weren’t as forgiving being red. Nevertheless, you sped out to leave.

Considering your options, your only available exits were the front or back door and wanting to avoid individual who has left you in this state (just by being present), you turned to the corridor that lead to the back door but as unfortunate as you were, the exit was blocked by men hauling in delivery shipments and by the looks of things they weren’t going to be done any time soon.

You were antsy enough as it was and waiting by the second for them just added to your agitation. You really needed to leave now. A lump was lodging itself on your throat and the air around you seemed to be thinning. You need to leave NOW.

Swallowing all the anxieties you had, you had no choice but to rush out the front. You stayed on the side, avoiding the patrons and the one in particular perched up at the bar but unlucky you (your luck really seemed to have vanished really), the man saw your abrupt departure, unbeknownst to you.

You made it out to the street and the open air was a fresh welcome, letting you finally breath, whereas the establishment you had left felt suffocating.

You thought it was done. That the lump in your throat would finally dissolve as you walked down the street, thinking that you had successfully avoided the now famed sorcerer of New York. The hero, Doctor Strange…

but when was life ever good to you.

‘y/n…’ he breathed out, catching the sight of you sprinting toward the doors he entered only moments before. It pulled him out of his reverie, wondering if he should talk to you, what he’d talk to you about, an apology perhaps, contemplation of your years together, however the sight of you pulled him out like it always did, especially in the beginning. He sometimes had the tendency to be too deep in thought, he’d ignore everything and everyone in his surroundings, but he always caught you. Your scent, your voice, let alone your image, it always drew him from his stupor.

Now the sight of you cemented his thoughts.

Downing the last of his drink, he pulled a bill from his wallet and slammed it down the counter without so much as a look onto how much it was before he scurried out, chasing after you. (Like he should have done all those years ago)

He called out your name once he reached the sidewalk, turning left and right in search for you. The street wasn’t crowded much so it was easy to spot the figure stood still a few yards away to his right. With the last few rays of the dying sun and dim streetlight, he made out the curled head of hair the same shade as yours the figure had, and he just knew it was you.

‘Y/N!’ he nearly shouted, causing a few heads to turn in his direction but not yours. You kept your back to him as he sprinted your way. He knew you heard him. You would have kept on walking had you not.

It only took a second to reach you and when he did, he hesitated, not knowing what to do. He wanted to reach for you and plead for forgiveness. On his knees if he had to. Instead, he opted for another call for your name, hoping you’d finally face him.

And you did, after dropping your hands to your side, he heard a small sniff before you turned to him with your gorgeous smile and said (in a somewhat forced cheer in your voice)

‘Stephen. Hi’

‘Hi’ he replied densely. You idiot, he thought at how stupid his response was.

A silence fell over you both as Stephen canvassed your entirety now at a closer distance. He took in every graceful line, freckle and strand of hair he saw to memory. Every little detail he took in was as important as every breath he took. How bloodshot your eyes were didn’t go unnoticed though. Puffy around the eyelids from crying, red possibly from -he guessed- how hard you were rubbing them just before he reached you.

Surprising thing is, it still broke his heart seeing the distress you so clearly were trying to hide. The thought of tears running down your cheeks, was illegal. They had no business in gracing your face yet, he can’t help but realize that he just keeps being the reason you were left in that state. Where were all these sympathies back then? He asked himself, the very night flashing through his mind.

‘Stephen’ you said again, taking him out of head again. He missed that though. His name coming off your lips. It brought him back to all the mornings with you in bed, tangled in sheets as the morning glory woke you up and you woke him up with that honey sweet voice with the say of his name. Stephen

‘Sorry, um…’ he coughed, trying to piece a sentence, words, anything really that didn’t end in three syllables.

‘You were wonderful’ he finally managed, okay that’s five ‘Back there at the bar…. you were amazing’ like always, he wanted to add but stopped himself, pointing back to where he just left.

‘Thank you’ you muttered, nodding your head before leaving it down to look at your shoes. The way you responded lacked any sort of confidence, as if you didn’t believe his words or yourself. Truthfully, you were never really the most confident, even back then but always did step up when the situation needed. Either that’s the reason or you didn’t believe him, which considering his case, why should you.

Your hands were fidgeting, he noticed. Running and marking the bones of one hand with your fingers tips before your nails would start to pick on skin. This was something new to him. A new nervous habit of yours he hadn’t known before, so it was most likely picked up after your separation.

The person in front of him wasn’t the same one he knew all those years ago yet, still so similar and the same. He remembers everything about you, so if anything of the woman he knew back then was still in there, he knew by how you were acting that you were uncomfortable, agitated.

‘Really, you were amazing’ he affirmed, really wanting you to believe him, or at least to believe how wonderful you really are. ‘Truly, but are you okay?’

He’d done it. Ask that stupid question and that’s what broke the dam, causing the river to run past it with no mercy.

He heard a laugh at first, your hand raising towards your face. The sound bordered on maniacal, nothing like the one he loved but familiar enough to know he has heard it before. Slowly, your head rose, your hand half covering your mouth, half wiping away the rivers that flowed down your cheeks. The sight finally triggered the memory he was looking for. It was all too similar to that night, it felt like déjà vu.

‘um’ you started, finally managing to say after that little fit ‘I could lie but what’s the point? No. I’m not. I’m not okay because you’re here. Fuck, I actually thought that I could get away from this but no, evidently not.’ You tried to reason, looking him straight in the eyes ‘Christ Stephen, I was okay. I was okay when I was singing, I was okay ten minutes ago but then you just came out of no where and now I’m not okay. I’m never okay whenever it comes to you. Not anymore.’ You spit like venom, unrelenting in your streak to get out all your pain because of him. ‘I thought I could be civil but… I-I’m tired. I’m sorry, I’m gonna go. Enjoy your night’ you hurried, saying your goodbyes and turning your back to him to walk away. You would have gone had he not called you back in such a pleading tone.

‘please’ he begs and for some reason and it compels you to listen. You halt your steps, you don’t turn around, but you do wipe away your tears and he takes that as his chance to apologize for everything.

‘I’m sorry.’ He starts, his own eyes teary ‘I’m sorry for everything. You didn’t deserve what I did to you and it…’ he swallows that lump in his throat, trying to get the rest of his words out ‘it haunts me every day. You’re the kindest person I know, and I took you for granted. I was an arrogant piece of shit, too self-absorbed to even notice that the woman I love was working herself to death.’ You start to turn around ’You were the purest thing I knew and you didn’t deserve the monster I was. And I am so sorry for who I was then. I’ve changed or I’m trying to change, to be better than- than that monster that hurt you and I could only hope for your forgiveness because, you were always someone I never wanted to lose, and I did. By a stupid mistake and horrible decisions.’ His tears start to run, and you finally face him ‘I never wanted to let you go but I was hurting you more than I was loving you and I understand if I don’t get your forgiveness but, I am sorry. I am so sorry for hurting you. For taking you for granted. For not treating you how you deserved to be treated. For everything. You didn’t deserve what I did to you and hearing myself admit this… really just proves I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I am sorry. I’m really sorry for what I did and that… that you deserve.’

You stare at him with tears running down both your eyes and he sees the same urge to wipe them away, in you. The hesitant twitch of your arm as if by instinct, to move and act on the need to clear away his tears and comfort him. At least that’s what he interprets the move of your arm because that’s exactly what you would have done, that’s exactly your character and he wants to do the same. To dry away your tears and take you in his arms in respite.

But you act against those thoughts, only balling your fist as some form of control. You stare into him, as if gauging to find the lie in his words yet there is none and he sees something in your eyes that he can’t explain before they dart away. He watches as you scan your surroundings, looking at the people likely to be watching you both but he didn’t care for them. He only cared about you.

When your eyes turned back to him, you closed them immediately, face scrunching as you desperately tried to hold back to tears but to him, it was as if you were so pained by the mere sight of him. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t chip away a piece of his heart.

Your head bowed for a bit as you tried to compose yourself but the words that left your lips once you rose again, only broke more of his heart.

‘You’re forgiven’ you were quick to say before turning back and walking away from him. He watched with wet cheeks, as you sped away from him, and he kept his gaze on you until you disappeared around the corner and then you were gone.

For what seemed like forever, he kept his eyes on that street corner, hoping for something that won’t happen. He knew that whatever he wanted wasn’t going to happen, but a man could hope, right? Though hopes are as easy to diminish as they are to ignite. Grief and disappointment, they tend to last.

The sun had set and streetlights and buildings are all that lit the side walk where Stephen stood. A man well known to the people and thus, there were those who were bound to watch the spectacle put on by the hero. Small crowds had formed over time as they watched the powerful sorcerer confess to the dreadful things he’s done to some doctor from before his fame, asking for forgiveness to all the terrible things he’s done.

To new passersby, they’d wonder why a hero of the city stood so stiff, looking at oblivion. They’d wonder for a minute without context before walking away with a shrug, figuring much more important things to think of.

Eventually, the crowd thinned to a trickle, til the lone man was all that remained the lone street, wondering what he had done to deserve you.

A/U: I've read this way too much to do a final proof read so sorry for all the grammatical mistakes and spellings and all that. Thanks for the read though

I'm hoping that the people who asked to be tagged don't mind me tagging them this late in the game and I hope you liked it. Hopefully it was worth the wait @strangesweetheart @evelynrosestuff @vesta-ro @doodle-cat16 @nabiilahadid @evansmusk @circe143 @dracoflaco

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just-a-strange-boy · 1 year ago

Text

a helping hand

part one

part two here

masterlist

Unable to use his hands after the accident, Stephen is in desperate need for some help. And who are you to refuse?

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), questionable sexual proposal, handjob, edging, orgasm control

A/N: IT'S TIME! buckle up bc this is shameless... and tbh who wouldn't love to help our poor Stephen in need

"Of course I'll help out", you had said, thinking that you could spare some time, to sporadically take care of Christine's friend, determined to offer a hand whenever you could.

It was a clear arrangement – whenever she couldn't be around to help, you'd be the one to step in for the time being. Keep an eye on him, help him around the house, and make sure he won't do anything stupid that might hurt himself.

And you had just been fine with that. It wasn't an issue for you to pop by once in a while. You had flexible work hours and being the reliable person that you were, Christine knew you'd definitely jump in when needed.

What you hadn't expected was kind of getting stuck with helping, something you had most definitely not signed up for, to the point where you found yourself regularly on duty during your free time. Not that you didn't like to help out – there were worse things you could have imagined and there must have been a good subconscious reason why you kept agreeing to it.

You just hadn't planned to get so wrapped up in it.

Instead of simply sparing a couple of hours for Christine's friend because you could and thought helping him out was a good deed, you had ended up agreeing to an entire week on duty at his apartment, because someone had the audacity to leave for a medical congress, letting the task of caring for him fall into your hands and not missing the opportunity to instate you as a personal watchdog.

"Yeah, don't worry about it", you had said, though her request initially confused you.

Why was she asking you to stay around his apartment for an entire week? Not even Christine stayed around him for that long, knowing fairly well how insufferable his behavior was sometimes, glad she had the distraction of leaving for work and getting out of the house once in a while.

Maybe you wouldn't have had to agree to staying at his apartment all week. A couple of hours would have sufficed and you couldn't even quite explain to yourself why you still put yourself up to the challenge.

Perhaps it was because Christine always had the tendency to put on that kind of tone and expression on her face that expressed 'Please do it for me or else I won't be able to get rest'.

Being the worry wart that she was, she wouldn't have let it go until you caved – which was exactly what you had done, agreeing to her request anyways and accepting you would just have to pester the man in question with your presence.

He probably would have been happy to stay on his own for a bit, with no one around to constantly get on his nerves. You often felt like this was exactly what Christine and you were doing.

He would have been fine, probably, because it wasn't like he was incapable of taking care of himself. Yes, he was in a vulnerable position, his last surgery hadn't been that long ago and his hands were still in some state. There were things he couldn't do on his own, he needed to rely on help with certain things, but he wasn't a child needing to be coddled.

Christine's friend, Stephen, had gotten into a fucking wreck of a car crash, leaving him unable to use his hands, which had taken the most damage. You had heard plenty about Stephen Strange before all that happened, considering he had been good friends with Christine ever since she had gotten employed at the Metro General. But you had never had the pleasure of truly getting to know him until you began helping him out.

Plenty of people probably knew, as did you, that Stephen used to be a truly brilliant neurosurgeon, who would obviously not be able to continue to work in that field since his hands were pretty mangled. Which of course was really frustrating him to the point where he had refused to accept help from outside, all alone in his stupidly huge apartment, relying on not another person in the world but Christine, who was pretty much the only friend he had.

And now he had you too, since Christine (understandably so) also needed a break from Stephen sometimes and had pulled in you, her sibling, for help.

At first Stephen had been mad at her for even bringing someone else around for something as ridiculous as being cared for, claiming he didn't need to be pitied by another person, as pity was all he had for himself and his lost career.

But once his frustration was out of the way, he had warmed up quickly to you. It might have been because he had quickly learned how snarky you were, unashamed to speak your mind and comment on his occasional dickish behavior, volleying his little jabs and teasing him right back.

Or perhaps, it was simply because you weren't throwing him a pity party, while never once belittling him for the amount of help he actually needed.

By all means, Stephen should consider himself lucky that someone put up with his shit.

It was a given that Christine helped him out, considering they'd been pretty close friends for years and colleagues as well, she was aggressively caring for those she loved, and since Stephen didn't have a lot of other people to rely on, she fit the role perfectly.

You also quickly began to understand why she had wanted to split 'Stephen duty' with someone else though and being family, you were apparently the only reasonable choice.

She could be certain that he wasn't going to dismiss you or else he would have to endure the wrath of Christine – and she sure had a temper people knew better than to mess with.

So had he though.

He truly was the perfect match for butting heads with on the regular. Sometimes you were convinced he was just being a cocky and arrogant ass out of spite, to rile you up, to get on your nerves as a payback for getting on his, to have some fun because he was getting sick of his recovery at home.

Sometimes you acted out of spite too, placing things out of his reach, screwing on bottle caps extra tight, rearranging his cupboards, to the point where he was forced to ask for help (which he hated doing), but this, as much as most of your comments, was all meant in good humor.

You were sure that Stephen got it. He didn't seem to mind that you were head-strong and speaking your mind, didn't seem too bothered by the harsh things you said sometimes or the not-so-friendly tone you tended to use when it was necessary.

He even seemed to find it rather amusing sometimes, making for playful banter, and in a way you were almost certain that he liked having someone to argue with, even if only for his entertainment.

It offered him some sort of distraction he desperately needed, after things going dastardly wrong, after all this suffering due to his own stupid lapse of judgment, letting himself be distracted while driving and leaping down a cliff.

There was a lot of pent up frustration within Stephen, a lot of sadness, and desperation. Things he didn't necessarily show, but obviously felt anyways. So whenever you managed to put a smile on his face with your gentle, friendly teasing, you were relieved to see him in a different mood.

You liked Stephen quite a bit, no matter how much he was irking you on some days – and no matter what it was, you were always there to help. So maybe staying at the apartment all week wouldn't be as bad.

Surprisingly enough, Stephen hadn't resented the idea either, though of course dropping the occasional comment about not wanting to be under supervision 24/7.

While you were not one to coddle, going after your own work on your laptop and giving Stephen some space during the day, you were insistent on taking care of his basic well-being, as usual.

You did care for Stephen, and not just because of your sister. In some sort, you considered him your own friend as of now, wanting to make sure he was having a reasonably pleasant recovery, fully aware how much it must suck to go through all of this.

How far you were willing to go though? No one, not even you, would have been able to tell.

"You can either eat the food I make for you or go back to wasting your money on shitty takeout", you had set pretty clear the first evening, scolding him like he was an insolent child not wanting to eat his greens, staring him down at the kitchen table when he wouldn't bother touching the dinner you made, "But I sure as hell won't let you miss out a meal."

Whenever you had stepped in prior, you were trying to make sure Stephen ate properly and regularly, because you knew the man occasionally refused to take a meal altogether, which usually ended in an argument. When arguing with Christine, she tended to give in.

While you were really fed up with his stubbornness sometimes, you had always accomplished getting at least some food into Stephen and this time was no different.

A mere two days later, you had been quietly working on your laptop in the living room, waiting for Stephen to finish up his shower, when you heard a thud and a loud "Fuck", thinking that perhaps the shampoo bottle had slipped out of his hands. It didn't sound like a dangerous bang, so you weren't sure whether you needed to check on him or not, but just in case something bad had occurred...

You still got up, caught a peek into the bathroom and rolled your eyes hard when noticing that it hadn't been his shampoo, and dear Lord, Stephen had apparently managed to slip, the spray of the shower still raining down on him while he was sulking on the tiled floor.

"Did you hurt yourself?", you asked instead of 'Are you okay?', because you knew that Stephen felt far from okay the way things were. He was obviously ashamed this had happened, any other person would have been too, but accepting of the situation itself, accepting that he needed help.

He didn't dare to look at you then, but you could tell there was defeat written all over him and it probably wasn't helping his embarrassment that he was stark naked – which wasn't the first time you had seen him like this, as you had assisted a few showers before and gotten into plenty of awkward situations whereas you'd seen a bit more than asking for, but still... the two of you sure could have imagined a more comfortable setting.

Though you were rather unafraid to touch him, which was a good thing. How else could you have possibly helped?

You touched Stephen all the time. Helping him get dressed? Done that. Combed his hair? Yup. Shaved his stupidly handsome face? Also yes. Changed the dressings on his hands? A given. Assisting him in holding as much as a spoon without dropping it? Daily. Tucking him into bed at night? Okay, maybe not that one, but you sure would have, if he had asked you to.

"It's hard to fall down gracefully without using your hands to help yourself", Stephen sighed, but turned out to be unharmed by his tumble, though he would likely still get away with some bruises from the impact. Coming round the shower cubicle, you could see his knees seemed to have taken a lot of the brunt, not too mention he had cracked the skin of his elbow open, trying to not use his hands to ease the momentum.

"This is ridiculous. Slipping in the shower like some seventy year old sod”, he grumbled.

"I slipped in the shower once as a child and that's how I lost two of my teeth. It happens, Stephen", you tried to ease the mood, momentarily seizing the spray, so you could aid Stephen to get back up without getting too wet yourself. You casually looked him over – he seemed fine enough to continue. At least he hadn't banged his head or something. Still, you decided to stay nearby for the rest of his shower, making sure he was able to get out unharmed.

"What were you even doing? Were you feeling dizzy?", you inquired, helping him towel off his hair, quietly acknowledging how long it had gotten since meeting him for the first time and especially how the gray on his temples had begun to spread.

"No, just unaware of my surroundings for a moment, didn't think and... there I went", Stephen answered, but you weren't sure if that was the whole truth.

You accepted it though, continuing to help him dry off. Situations like these brought an uncomfortable awareness to your mind - he was putting so much trust into you, letting you help him like this, and you had never really managed to find a good answer as to why he was allowing you do all of those things for him.

All the signs of trust were obviously there. He was letting himself be vulnerable with you, being in situations that were so deeply intimate without refusal or much shame.

Stephen was allowing you to touch him too, aiding him with getting dressed, letting you check his newly won bruises today – and as usual, quietly accepted your care for his hands, his sore point, tender and heavily scarred, so that he mostly kept them hidden beneath a layer of bandages, ashamed of having anyone see them.

Sometimes, only sometimes, you even got the impression that whenever your hands were on him, it seemed to ease the tension out of his shoulders, never minding the undoubted awkwardness of the moment.

You weren't one to judge. Maybe he did want a bit of comfort after all and therefore didn't mind being taken care of sometimes, even though always pretending that he didn't need any help or tending to.

Everyone needed someone. Even him.

Stephen was a very lonely person. He would have never admitted to it, but all the fame and the glory from his neurosurgery days hadn't really ensured stable friendships and people being actually interested in him on a personal level. On the contrary, a lot of people had dropped Stephen rather quickly. But not Christine.

And thanks to her, you wouldn't anytime soon either.

You grew aware of Stephen's actual issue, when your work was interrupted for another time that same day. Finally coming to actually work on a commission that had been prompted weeks ago, setting the final touches to the project, tapping away on your graphic tablet, you took note of the noises coming from Stephen's bedroom.

Somehow you tried to make sense of it as moans of discomfort, anguish, perhaps he was having a nightmare, perhaps he was in pain, perhaps he was just frustrated he couldn't sleep, a reoccurring problem he had described to you before.

Whatever it was, it did appeal to your little helper syndrome and you at least felt like you needed to look after him, figure out if anything was going on that might require your help.

So you went to check on him, no regard for personal privacy, quietly opening the door to the bedroom, about to inquire what was going on and whether he was okay.

"Stephen? Is everything... oh..." Shit. Okay.

You had barely crossed the threshold to the room when you took note of what exactly was happening. Because the noises of frustration weren't rooted in trouble sleeping, but as it seemed in sexual desperation – and apparently the man had been trying to get off, unable to take care of his evident erection, pulling the blankets over himself immediately once noticing that you were standing in the doorway.

Awkward.

Standing like a deer in headlights, you wondered which one of you would have rather wanted a hole to open in the ground and swallow you whole to avoid the complete embarrassment.

"God, fuck, I'm so sorry", you apologized after overcoming the initial full-body freeze, not sure whether to leap out of the room, cover your eyes or just act bluntly about it. Logically it would have been best to not make a big deal out of it, because it wasn't, not really.

Just a private moment you had interrupted. Nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone had needs.

"I was... uh... I was worried something was the matter and...", you tried to explain then, going on stuttering and noticing that nothing you were about to say was going to save the awkwardness of the situation.

"Well, you know what's the matter now", Stephen sighed, barely illuminated by the soft lamp light from the bedside table, though still turning away from you in plain shame, continuing on with the sort of self-pity you had never experienced so strongly from Stephen before.

"I'm pathetic. Can't shower without help, can't live without help, I can't even jerk off without help, because of this stupid fucking car crash and these stupid fucking hands and I can't even blame anyone but myself for it."

It wasn't all too often that the man voiced his own hurt so intensely, clearly on edge, emotional about what had and, in that case, what hadn't happened.

Understanding of his evident frustration, but unsure what to do with him now, in this state, you contemplated. Things were already awkward enough and it didn't help you remained standing there while Stephen was wallowing in self-pity, and you weren't really sure why the idea of helping him out even crossed your mind in the first place.

Sure, helping around the apartment was no big deal, attending to Stephen's needs was okay, but taking care of this rather specific issue... you didn't want to push his boundaries too much after all.

And yet you were so bold as to ask, "So, are you in need of a helping hand?"

"Fuck off, now is not the time to make fun of me", Stephen groaned, probably ready to smother himself (or you) with one of the pillows, "Life already mocks me enough. I don't need to have you ridiculing me because of this."

"I'm not... I'm not mocking you", you assured him, finally moving, closing the door shut behind you as you went over to the bed, watching his cowered figure, "I'm just... I'm not pitying you. It's just...me... requesting like... a favor for a friend in need? I'm sure I could help you out some way? If you wanted me to, that is."

"Why would you even offer that?", Stephen asked, though appearing neither dismissive nor exceptionally shaken about what you were suggesting. A little in disbelief perhaps, but that wasn't surprising since you were clearly deciding to cross a boundary for the two of you here.

"Because life's been shit for you and I guess you could need some relief. Since you can't seem to get off on your own, I'm offering to help you with it", your answer seemed to make him consider and you planted yourself down on his bedside. You reached out and touched his shoulder, trying to find out how he would respond to you initiating touch.

"Maybe it will help you unwind and relax?"

Stephen turned to look at you. "We will never speak of this ever again", he hummed in agreement, "And not a word to anyone. Especially not Christine."

"Promise", you agreed – this was definitely not something you were meaning to boast about. You just wanted to help and the decision to do this for Stephen had been surprisingly easy to make.

A normalcy had kind of settled over the situation, which however didn't mean that you weren't feeling some type of way. You were a little jittery as you slid into bed next to Stephen, making sure not to cuddle up to him too much, because you weren't sure how he would feel about any unnecessary affections.

This was just about a quick hand job and that was it. It already must have taken a lot for Stephen to even accept the offer. Not to mention, a lot of desperation too. But he trusted you. This was a friendly gesture and nothing more. It didn't have to mean anything, let alone be a big thing between you, something that might never be mentioned ever again.

Gently pulling back the blanket, you probably held your breath as much as he did, reaching out, making sure to touch Stephen where his sleep shirt had ridden up at first, your hand finding its place on his stomach, letting him get accustomed to your touch, which wasn't entirely new to him – this time with a little different intention than usually, which made it all the more exciting.

The man drew out a shaky breath, agitated even, and his muscles were tensing up before he was even thinking of relaxing. Looking at him, you could see there was concentration on his brow, his gaze averted to the ceiling, neither daring to look at you nor at where your hand was resting.

"Okay?", you asked.

"Yeah", Stephen said, barely a whisper. His consent urged you to go on, your fingers brushing over his abdomen, following the trail of hair down his navel, fully aware that his pants were still bunched down somewhere around his knees, and you could have reached for him right away. But you didn't, sliding your hand past his arousal, stroking along his thighs instead, bracing yourself to make the next step and touch him more intimately.

But even your hand on him alone was seemingly enough to awaken all sorts of things within Stephen and he sucked in a sharp breath as your hand skirted his inner thighs. He was warm, his thighs firm under your touch, and you gently squeezed them in reassurance.

"You're a damn tease", he muttered.

You thought replying something witty, but you knew better and just bit your tongue this time, curiously watching his face, not meaning to stare at his genitals. It wasn't like Stephen didn't seem to like it. He had closed his eyes, seemed concentrated, small breaths were slipping past his lips, and he swallowed hard.

As you continued to carefully caress his thighs, you could most certainly feel him squirm, tensing again, but not because he was uncomfortable. He was aroused, you had no doubts, and his words just made it all the more evident he wanted you to go on.

“Please don't make me wait”, he requested, so quiet as if he was speaking a forbidden thought aloud.

You didn't, fingers trailing the path up his thighs, enjoying the little huff that escaped Stephen when you brushed past his balls, reaching for the half-hard member, responding to your touch with a twitch, stirring in interest. Wrapping your fingers around him, you grabbed the base of his cock in a tight hold.

"God, I feel like I'm about to burst already", Stephen groaned in anguish as his breathing almost turned labored instantly, pressing his head back into the pillows, and the notion alone encouraged you to be a little more bold in your advances.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Spilling your cum all over my hand and I haven't even really gotten to touch you?", you chuckled, unsure how Stephen would react to your words, but unable to hold them back. He didn't seem to mind the dirty talk though – if anything, it seemed to rouse him even more. You could feel the warm flesh throbbing in your hand, practically begging to be touched, already craving some release.

But maybe you didn't have to make this as quick as you had planned for initially, only allowing him slow movements of your hand, gently tugging on his cock, drawing out soft moans. And dear lord, he sounded wonderful. It was entirely entrancing and you found it hard to choose where you'd rather look – at the subtle emotions passing Stephen's face during your ministrations or his erect cock. With utmost interest, your eyes flicked back and forth.

You made sure to touch all of him, from the base all the way to his tip, thumb gliding over the glistening cockhead, a satisfied smirk coming to your lips when you noticed how much precum he was already leaking, circling his glans, before stroking down again, tracing the veins on his length, making sure to give special attention to those spots that made him buck his hips when touched.

No wonder Stephen was responsive and desperate for it. You had no idea how long it might have been since someone had touched him, intimately most of all. Stephen didn't have anyone, wasn't partnered and you doubted that your sister was that sort of friend. His own hands wouldn't do, which had caused you two to end up like this in the first place. Touch-starved like this, there was no doubt Stephen deserved someone to take proper care of him – and you had made it your mission to do so.

Unfortunately for him, you weren't all that nice to just give everything to him right away.

So as the man tried to thrust into your hand, wanting to chase his own pleasure, needing more, you eased the grip of your fingers around him, almost letting go off him, stopping any sort of movement altogether, earning a huff from Stephen.

"Oh, fuck off", he groaned with evident frustration, fully aware you were doing this on purpose.

"Do you want me to stop then?", you asked, with a grin Stephen didn't see as he still kept his eyes closed, and loved the power you held over him - you could have just taken your hand away, walked off and left the man even more desperate than before. Of course, you would have never been so cruel to actually do this, now that you had already gotten started, but the thought was amusing.

"No", another groan followed, "I want you to go on, you asshole." Then a pause. "Please", he added then.

"As you wish", so you tightened the grip around him again, jerking him at a slower pace, gently at first, before beginning to move your hand a little quicker, knowing very well that the change of rhythm, the change of pressure applied, was going to keep Stephen more on edge than anything else. You knew how, in some ways, it was more than cruel to tease him like this, in his position no less, but if Stephen was seeking release that badly, you might at least make the best of it and draw it out as much as he could.

You'd make sure to give him an exceptional orgasm.

So whenever you felt Stephen tense up, his breath quickening, his moans increasing, his words more pleading, brows furrowing, biting down on his bottom lip, when he might have been just on that threshold to achieving an orgasm, you stilled any movements again, sometimes taking your hand off him entirely, sometimes only abandoning his cock for a moment, though always long enough for a looming orgasm to be ruined entirely. It was a torturous game to play, trying to bring Stephen close to the edge each time, only to deny him pleasure the last second.

It didn't take you much to drive him to madness with fleeting touches, promising release, not quite allowing him to get it, and then doing it all over again.

The sight of Stephen was wonderful. He was squirming, erratically breathing, his sweet moans turning to frustrated groans, his words reaching from "God, please, just let me come" to "I hate you for doing this to me", but still welcoming your hand whenever it returned to touch him, each time a little more.

You didn't even want to imagine how much his balls must have been aching after minutes of being edged and denied, but of course you decided to take pity on Stephen eventually. You weren't that heartless after all and when you finally gave into him chasing his pleasure, allowing him that sweet relief, guiding towards the long awaited orgasm, it was absolutely worth it.

For the last few strokes, you even let him thrust up into your hand, gently guiding him through his orgasm as it struck. A long and shaky moan escaped his throat, a sound of relief coming from deep within, his body completely tensing up, before that concentration finally left his brow and was replaced by a look of ease, surrendering to the sensations altogether.

You could feel his cock pulsing, thick cum spilling all over your fingers and it didn't even seem to end there. He really was bursting, arching his back off the mattress as he was coming loads and loads, his entire body was trembling, sweetly groaning.

You doubted anything could have ruined the moment for Stephen now and thoroughly enjoyed how he was seeming to enjoy himself, jerking him through the remaining throes of passion, until his body just slumped.

Noticing his orgasm had passed, you eventually took your hand off his cock, gently placing it on his lower stomach instead, both sticky with cum anyways. You smiled to yourself, following the movement of his chest, still breathing heavily, and decided to wait for him to calm down again, allowing him another moment of comfort, allowing him to have another presence near, someone warm and caring.

He deserved it.

Though it wasn't like you weren't doing this at least a little bit for your own gain. You had enjoyed doing this for Stephen, had drank in the sight of him, this intimate moment forever etched inside your brain. And now that you thought about it, you wondered about whether you could still only consider this a friendly favor or if perhaps you wanted things to change between you.

You had never really questioned the kind of feelings you harvested for the man. Or could see yourself potentially having for him, if there was any sort of potential at all. Of course, you had come to consider him a good friend – but good friends didn't just randomly pay each other sexual favors, did they? Not like you were counting on this being more than a one time thing... well, unless he wanted to perhaps.

"Jesus... that was kind of... mind blowing. I mean I haven't come for weeks, but I don't think I have ever come that hard in general...ever", Stephen commended you, interrupting your train of thought, still a little out of breath, "Fucking hell, where did you even learn to give handjobs like that?"

"Years of studying", you joked, deciding to definitely not give him an honest answer to his question, looking at him to find him curiously eyeing you in return, "Sorry for being a tease. Can't say that I didn't enjoy it though."

"So did I. As you can probably tell", Stephen sighed, seeming a lot more content, showing you one of his rare smiles, "Though I'm probably going to need to wash up again now. I'm sticky and sweaty."

"It was my pleasure. Make sure to tell me if you ever need assistance again", you patted his stomach and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, before withdrawing altogether, trying not to smear any of the sticky fluid on your hand anywhere else it wasn't supposed to be, deciding to flee the room quite fast after realization hit that you had just jerked your sister's friend off. You had made your own friend, a man relying on your help day by day, come the hardest in his life ever.

Though perhaps it didn't matter, for this was only going to be a one time thing and you'd accomplished to help him out, only because he needed it. The moment was gone now and it had been good while it had lasted. That was the most important thing.

Stephen's voice stopped you in the doorway when he spoke your name. "Thank you. Not just for this. For everything you do for me.”

You turned your head back for a moment, gave him a reassuring smile, acknowledging his gratitude, and left anyways.

#k writes #stephen strange #doctor strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange smut #stephen strange x you #marvel fanfiction #x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #stephen strange x male reader

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ironstrange1991 · 1 year ago

Text

His Medicine

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen has a nightmare and when he wakes up he seeks comfort in your arms.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT: Possessive sex, oral sex with male and female receiving, deep throat, fingering, unprotected p n v sex, hair pulling, creampie, cum eating, slight male domination. A bit of angst if you dig too much.

A/N: I was missing writing the good and classic smut with og Stephen so here it is. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a good reading. - Any typos or grammar mistakes you see in this, pretend you didn't ;)

You woke up to the movement of Stephen tossing and turning next to you in bed. Your first impression was that he was irritated at not being able to sleep, after all you knew that Stephen had been struggling with insomnia since the accident. Before, he used to sleep really well, according to him.

You closed your eyes again to try to go back to sleep, but he continued tossing and turning in bed so, sighing, you turned on the lamp to finally look at him. It was then that you noticed that he was sleeping, but his body was sweaty under the blanket and he seemed to be struggling against something invisible. You had never seen Stephen have nightmares like that and for a second you wondered if you should wake him up, but before you could make the decision he sat up abruptly on the bed gasping for air and running his hands over his face.

"Stephen..." You sat next to him, touching his shoulder lightly so as not to scare him.

He held your hand tightly and sighed heavily.

"Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

He nodded. "I haven't had one of these in a long time." He confessed, his voice shaking a bit. "Christ, it was like being there again."

You put your arm around his shoulders and to your surprise, he laid his head on your shoulder seeking comfort. Stephen was extremely affectionate with you, but it was always the other way around, it was always you looking for comfort in him. The change was welcome, but not in that circumstance.

Automatically your hand searched for his hair and you started stroking it.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

His arms wrapped around your waist and he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"The accident. It's always the accident. I thought I had left it behind me, but it still haunts me in my sleep."

You held him in your arms as if that way you could protect him from all the evil that had affected him or that could still affect him. You just wanted to keep him safe there within your reach.

"It was an extremely traumatic experience and you dealt with it alone. Maybe you should consider seeking help..."

He shook his head "I don't need therapy. I already have everything I need."

He said lifting his head and searching for your lips.

You kissed him softly, but disagreed, "I can't save you from the ghosts of your past, Stephen, as much as I want to help you, I don't know how."

He sighed, running a hand over his face again. "They're just dreams. What harm can they do?"

You shook your head. You had been together for almost two years and you were still surprised by how headstrong and stubborn Stephen was. "Disrupting what little decent sleep you have is already something to worry about." You pointed out. "You've barely been sleeping lately, always worried about everyone except yourself. Someone needs to take care of you while you're taking care of everyone else, don't you think? Being ill you don't help anyone, sweetheart."

Stephen sighed and you took that as a sign that he agreed with you, at least a little.

"You're stealing my pet name." He said, changing the subject in a not-so-subtle way. "I gave it to you."

You smirked running your fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "You gave it to me and I can use it however I want. It's extremely cute if you ask me and it suits you. Especially when you're clinging to me like a koala because you had a bad dream."

Stephen hummed knowing full well that you were teasing him but he didn't give in, he continued cuddling with you, it was as if he couldn't bear the thought of moving away from you for even a second.

"Promise me you'll see a doctor." You pressed and he groaned knowing full well that you wouldn't give up on the subject so easily. "Stephen..."

"I know every neurologist and psychiatrist in New York, I can't see any of them."

"Well then go to Europe, use your amazing ability to open portals for something that benefits you for a change."

He pulled away enough to look at you. "I love you." He muttered.

You cupped his cheek "I love you too, Stephen, but sometimes you're as stubborn as a mule and it makes me really angry."

He chuckled "I'm sorry."

He caressed your face and placed his trembling hand on the back of your neck and pulled you in for a hard kiss. The intensity surprised you, but you let yourself be pushed gently against the mattress as Stephen positioned himself on top of you, his knees making room for him to settle between your legs.

When your head hit the pillow, he took your lips again while with one hand he held yours on the side of your head and the other he slowly moved between your legs. You moaned involuntarily when his fingers touched over your pajama shorts, tracing circles there, teasing you as he grinded himself into your thigh.

"You're the only one who can give me what I need to make me feel better and you know it." He confessed in your ear and then licked your ear making your body shiver. "I love you so much, sweetheart, you are my medicine."

You couldn't help but giggle, but then a loud moan escaped your lips as his fingers pulled your shorts to the side and began to play with your folds.

"We can't fix everything with sex." You tried to rationalize with him, but you could feel reason quickly giving way to desire in your brain.

"No, but I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about the way you make me feel when I'm in your arms, when you stroke my hair or massage my hands. I'm talking about love. Your love is my medicine and it’s all I need."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest hearing those words, but at the same time your hips started to move against his hand as if it had a life of its own. It was very difficult for you to separate sex from love with Stephen. Before him the line was thick and visible, but with him it simply disappeared. The two things seemed to complement each other so well.

"Stephen...make love to me." You asked, giving in to your desire and abandoning reason once and for all.

He bit your lower lip lightly before taking your mouth in another hungry kiss. "I thought sex didn't solve things..." He teased you with a smirk while grinding his erection into you.

"You just said it's not about sex..." You tried to say, but shook your head, changing your mind when he stuck two fingers inside you. "Fuck...need you."

Stephen buried his face in your neck, stifling his giggle, but his fingers curled inside you with precision to reach your g spot and he moved them quickly. You held his face in your hands making him look at you. "I love you... oh yes... I love your fingers even more."

He kissed you again giggling and knelt between your legs.

"I think there's something you love even more." He teased, "But first..." He snapped his fingers and your pajamas disappeared with a glimpse of orange light. "Open wide for me..." He licked his lips dramatically which made you laugh softly. You loved that about Stephen. You loved how he could make you feel so good and at ease with him. Even though you had been together for so long, it never stopped enchanting you.

"Or maybe a combination of the two." He announced before diving between your legs and entering you again with his fingers. Your hand grabbed the pillow and the other grabbed his hair and you allowed yourself a loud moan, not giving a damn if Wong would hear you or not. In fact, it had been a long time since you stopped caring about Wong's presence at the Sanctum and perhaps because of that he almost never spent the night there.

Stephen hummed contently, delighting between your folds, taking turns licking them with the tip of his tongue and sucking your clit while his fingers moved nimbly to stimulate your g spot.

He was so good, perfect, surgical when it came to giving you pleasure and as much as you knew that that night he was using sex to escape the current problem, you couldn't resist, you always fell into the same trap.

But it wasn't just to distract you from the subject that he used sex, but also to distract himself from all the problems and fears that afflicted him. He wasn't kidding when he said you were his medicine, and you might even feel flattered by that if it weren't worrying. The man never allowed himself to feel. Always trying to be in control of everything, especially his own emotions and there was nothing Stephen controlled better than sex. He had simply mastered that art so well that he was able to make you forget your own name with just a touch of his fingers.

"Steph... gonna make me cum..." You murmured, giving in to the delicious pleasure between your legs, but keeping your eyes wide open to look at him and see him eating you. There was nothing more mesmerizing than Stephen going down on you because you knew he took pleasure in it and he was so lost in his need for you that he started rubbing his erection on the mattress while eating you and that vision, Stephen so lost in his pleasure , that's what made you finally get there, moaning his name loudly and creaming his fingers.

He emerged from between your legs with a proud smile on his lips and you ran your hands over his face to clean him of all his fluids and pulled him to your lips, delighting in the taste of your cunt in his tongue.

"You're not going to be able to change my mind about you needing to see a therapist. Not even after such a wonderful oral." You warned and he smirked.

"I guess we can talk about this later." He said, running his lips on your neck and placing little kisses on your skin and finally nibbling on your earlobe.

"Later when?" You rasped.

He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his cock, slipping it inside his pants. "After you take care of this."

You grabbed his cock and started pumping him up and down. "But this is a full time occupation. It really seems like you're always like this." You said pulling him to your lips.

He groaned when you tightened your grip on his cock. “Is this a complaint?”

"Never." You said gently pushing him to the side and straddling him. He let himself be moved easily and you ran your lips down his neck, making a point of leaving a clearly visible hickey just below his chin, your nails went down his chest, scratching him lightly as you took one nipple and then the other in your mouth, circling your tongue on the sensitive skin and feeling him pulse beneath you.

"Sweetheart... please..." His voice was so beautiful when he begged.

"Please what?" You teased, running your lips down his belly, giving small bites.

"Fuck me... with your mouth. Please."

You lifted your head to look at him and couldn't keep the cocky smile from your lips. Your hands grabbed both sides of his sweatpants.

"Since you're asking so nicely."

He lifted his hips, letting you take off his pants and you were treated to his beautiful, hard cock. It's no exaggeration to say that your mouth always watered at that sight.

You held him upright by the base and licked him from the base to the tip, finishing with a suck on the tip that made him see stars. His legs shook and he moaned outrageously loud.

"Oh yes... please take it in your mouth sweetheart, give this delicious mouth to me."

You smiled mischievously, taking your hands up to your hair to tie it into a bun tied with your own hair and Stephen grabbed his cock by the base, gesturing with the other hand for you to take it. You let him lead, opening your mouth for him to put his dick in and letting him thrust all the way in.

"Fuck yeah!" He praised taking his cock completely out of your mouth, saliva dripping down your chin. You took the opportunity to swallow some. "Open for me really big" He ordered and you did as he asked letting him go deep again and gagging around him which made him moan even louder. He loved that.

Stephen loved seeing you gagging on him because it inflated his ego, he knew very well that he had a huge cock, but he liked seeing you suffering to take it all in, it made him hard as a rock and when you cried, when he saw tears streaming down your face he loved it even more. You were sure he could cum from just that.

"Gonna let you take me however you want now." He said taking his hand away which was quickly replaced by yours. "Just keep making me feel good" He asked and you took the lead pumping his cock and sucking him in perfect synchronization. The wet noise his dick made moving in and out of your mouth filled the room.

"So good... fuck sweetheart it feels so good."

He grabbed your hair and without holding back he began to push your head so that you took him entirely. Stephen never gave up control completely and he was obsessed with deep throat, he was only satisfied when your nose was against his pelvis and his cock was deep you’re your throat.

"Taking me so good. Always taking me so good, sweet..." He moaned loudly and his cock pulsed hard in your throat making you gag.

"Wanna cum in your throat, please let me cum in your throat..."

You hummed positively and relaxing your head and throat, breathing through your nose and letting go of the control completely, letting him use your head to get off.

He thrusted up a few more times and then held you tight against him and began to cum down your throat. "Oh yeah... fucking take it, love. Oh yeah... fuck... take all of it... take all of my cum."

When he finally let go of your head and you took him out of your mouth you were gasping for air. Your face was soaked with tears and your chin was dripping with saliva, some still clinging to a thread connecting your mouth and the head of his cock that was soft, but not completely flaccid.

"You always take me so good. Always accepting what I give you. Such a sweetheart indeed." He patronized.

You wiped the spit off your chin with your hand and moved to straddle him.

"Yeah? Now you're gonna fuck me with the same harshness that you fucked my mouth and you are going to make me cum again. Hard."

"And isn't it always hard when I make you cum? Always writhing and moaning my name, thanking the gods that is me fucking you so good." He teased grabbing his cock and giving a couple of jerks before entering you.

You moaned loudly, letting yourself sink into his cock and started riding him fast and hard, placing your hands on his chest for balance.

"Yes... oh yes I love to have you inside me. Feels so big... you always fuck me so good... such a good lover, Steph..."

You leaned your head back and placed both hands on his thighs, moving your legs forward and allowing the new position to give him a better view of where you joined.

Stephen placed a hand on your clit, circling it and stimulating it deliciously, increasing your pleasure, which made you moan so loud that anyone in that house could hear it.

"Just like that, sweetheart. Give it to me."

You kept moving fast on top of him, letting your body move instinctively in search of your release, but Stephen had other plans. Quickly, he moved you under him, getting lost between your legs again, sucking your clit and licking your dripping folds before patting your leg and ordering, "Turn around and lift that ass for me."

You did as he ordered, but not satisfied he slapped your ass cheek and ordered again. "Higher." He gave another slap and when he was satisfied with your position he entered you again, fucking you with surprising ferocity. That was one of the things you loved about Stephen, you never knew what sex with him would be like. Sometimes it was soft and other times it was like that. Hard and delicious.

Stephen was so big that his body covered your entire body, his weight made it impossible for you to move and when he fucked you like that you were completely at his mercy and that was fucking hot. You loved being dominated by him, you loved knowing that your man had complete control over you.

"Fuck yes Stephen... take me, use me, I'm yours. Fuck me harder. Show me I am yours and no one else's. Prove to me that you own me… my owner."

Stephen groaned at your words, grabbing the headboard and increasing the strength of his thrusts as the bed creaked beneath you.

"Gonna make me cum, Stephen, uh? Want me to cum? Tell me, wanna hear you saying it."

He grabbed your hair with one hand and started using it as a rein, pulling you against his thrusts, which became increasingly irregular and strong.

"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna see you fucking cum in my cock, come on, give it to me, cream my dick."

You moaned loudly feeling the knot threatening to break in your stomach.

"Yes Stephen...please."

"Come on, love. Let go for me. Cum... Cum on my dick."

And so you did. You came hard feeling your whole body shaking with the force of your release and your legs gave way making you fall face first into the pillows.

"There you go. Such a sweetheart doing as you're told." He groaned the words as he continued thrusting.

"Now you're going to let me use this pussy to get off. What do you think, uh? Letting me using you like this. I know you love it."

You groaned positively, but your groans were muffled by the pillow.

"What is that, uh? Can't hear you, love."

"Use me..." You tried to say, but your voice came out hoarse, but it was enough for him to hear.

He kept thrusting hard into you searching his own high.

"Want me to use you, sweetheart? That's what I am doing and you feel so good. So fucking amazing. Pussy feels so warm and wet and delicious, gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, fill you with my milk, it’s that what do you want?"

"Y-yes, please." You begged and he moaned loudly, placing his hand on the headboard to increase the strength of his thrusts.

"Yeah? Want my milk inside this warm little hole? Then tell me, ask for it."

"Please Stephen, cum in me, cum inside me, want your cum so badly, please."

Stephen groaned loudly and gave two more hard thrusts and then began to cum. He kept thrusting, pushing his cum inside you until he was finished.

"Oh fuck, fucking take it." He groaned in your ear and finally rolled onto his side, his breathing ragged and rapid.

You buried your face in the pillow trying to compose yourself, but a fit of laughter invaded you.

Stephen wrapped his arms around you and began tickling your hips giggling with you.

"Okay, okay, please... I can't..." You begged, gasping for air from laughing so hard. He let go of you and you rolled to the side finally looking at him. The worry, the fear that you saw on his face had disappeared and in its place was the most beautiful smile in the world.

"You’re feeling better." It wasn't a question, but an observation.

He nodded confidently "I told you. You're like medicine to me."

You smiled, dragging yourself closer to him and he wrapped you in his arms letting you lay your head on his shoulder. "You get different sometimes when you're horny."

He let out a small laugh.

"I'm serious. You get a bit rough. I like it."

He cupped your cheek making you look at him and kissed you softly. "It must be because I love you so much. You do these things to me."

You smiled feeling your heart flutter in your chest again. "I love you too, more than anything."

"More than chocolate?" He joked and you grimaced.

"Not that much."

He giggled, squeezing you against his chest and the two of you were silent for a minute. It was you who broke the silence first, determined to return to the subject he was avoiding.

"Promise me you'll seek professional help to deal with these nightmares." You insisted.

He sighed heavily. "You know what they say about therapy. You start it for a reason and the next thing you know you're digging up all the dead bodies on your floor."

You knew exactly what he was talking about and what he was afraid of, part of you always knew it was much more than the accident. You just didn't know how to broach the subject with him. It was something so deeply hidden within him that he didn't even want to talk about it, but you knew this was the moment.

"I know you're afraid to deal with your feelings about your sister, Stephen, but these nightmares are your unconscious telling you that you need closure."

"I'm not afraid..." He said, staring at the ceiling. "I just don't think it's beneficial to go over things that happened so many years ago. I'd rather forget."

You rolled your lips. "But you can't forget, that's the truth. No matter how hard you try, it's all in there and you're just trying to distract yourself from the pain. It was like that with medicine and then at Kamar Taj and now with me..."

"Is not the same thing." He interrupted you. "Medicine was a way to prove to myself that I could be more. Kamar Taj was my salvation when I had lost all hope. You... you are the love of my life. I'm not with you to get distract from my problems, I'm with you because you gave meaning to my life, you made me happy."

You nodded, stroking his chest absently.

"But I'll do it if it's what you want."

"It's not for me that you have to do this, but for you, Stephen. You need to think about yourself sometimes."

He chuckled dryly "I've been called a narcissist, you know? Arrogant. Prepotent. It was when I stopped thinking about myself that I became a better person, they say."

"Fuck them. This is not true." You cupped his face making him look at you. "You've always been a good person, you've always done good even when you did it for selfish reasons. Now I'm asking you to dedicate some of your time to yourself. Please."

He smiles reassuringly at you. "Okay. Consider it done."

You allowed yourself a relieved sigh.

"I liked the 'you're my owner' thing. A little possessive, but I liked it." He teased, changing the subject again and again without any subtlety.

You smirked "We talk and do unimaginable things when we're horny."

"Yeah? I like making you horny, I love seeing how you transform at my touch. It's fascinating to me and I never get tired of it."

You pulled him to your lips and kissed him lingerly, pulling a hum from his throat.

"No man has ever made me feel the way you do. I love everything about you, Stephen."

He rested his forehead on yours and smiled proudly.

"And I love everything about you, my sweet… sweet... sweet... sweetheart." He said separating the words with kisses.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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thedaredevilsgirl · 3 months ago

Text

False God

Priest!Stephen Strange X Reader

Warnings: Small discussion, SMUT: sex without a condom.

Hi, this is Ray. In this short excerpt we have Father Strange so in love with one of his devotees, since a little forbidden love never hurt anyone. This excerpt was taken from a story I've been planning for some time, inspired in Thou Shalt Not Covet by @daydreamtofiction and the song False God by Taylor Swift. Please let me know what you think and if you think I should start posting the first chapters of this story. I hope you enjoy it. -Forgive any grammatical errors, English is not my first language-

⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏❂﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏⋆

... "I need an answer, God," the priest says, now on his knees, begging the Lord to respond and help him with his dilemma. "I just need an answer."

It is at that exact moment that Strange hears the heavy church door opening and closing, rising to look at the candlelit hallway that highlighted a silhouette so familiar to him.

Stephen feels his breath falter; the vision before him, walking toward him, was wicked and sinful for his thoughts, yet still seemed deliciously divine.

You were there, soaked from the heavy rain falling outside, the dress you had worn earlier at the festival now clinging to your body.

"It’s late," Stephen says, after gathering the courage to finally speak to you. "What are you doing here? You should be home by now."

"I need to confess," you explain, your voice trembling, perhaps a little nervous.

"It’s past midnight, the church is closed, come back tomorrow," he didn't mean to be harsh, but thought it was the only way to get you to leave quickly, though he was wrong.

"I need to confess," you repeat, making it clear you wouldn’t leave until you got what you wanted. "God’s house doesn’t close to a believer, no matter the hour. You, of all people, should know that, Father Strange."

Being called Father Strange by you hurt. Just days ago, you were close, perhaps even friends. He had grown used to hearing your sweet voice calling him Stephen, until he had given in to temptation during the trip to New York. Hearing you be so polite with him now reminded him of how greatly he had erred.

"You’re right," Stephen knew he would regret it, but he already felt so guilty for everything he had done with you that he couldn’t deny your wishes any longer.

The two walk silently to the large confessional in the corner of the church. He could hear everything even through the wooden wall, listening to your trembling breath as you prepared to speak, watching through the small window as you made the sacred sign of the cross.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you begin.

"Tell me what happened, and we will decide your penance."

"I am engaged," the small reminder of this fact made Stephen’s heart ache in his chest. "And he is a good man, a really good man, but I don’t love him. In fact, I feel like I’ve never truly loved him, but my family adores him, and this union would be great for everyone."

"The church does not support a marriage built without true love," the priest says, trying to hide from both you and himself that, in reality, he was more than pleased to know of your lack of love for that idiot your family had chosen for you.

"I know, I know, but I must marry him; it’s what everyone expects of me, what they’ve always wanted for me, and I simply cannot ruin their plans," the pain in your voice and exhaustion was palpable, trying to be the perfect daughter and feeling like you had to carry the world on your shoulders. "So I must marry him, try to love him, respect him, and be faithful to him," you take a deep breath before continuing. "But that’s the problem, Father. I’m in love with another man. More than that, I lay with this man, and forgive my words, but damn, I loved every bit of it."

Stephen says your name in a warning tone. "I think we’d better not talk about this," he doesn’t have time to finish reprimanding you, as you quickly interrupt him.

"But the next day, he left me. He said the best night of my life had been a mistake that couldn’t be repeated, said we should stay away from each other. Suddenly, I lost a faithful friend, a confidant, and he broke my heart."

"Stop, please," he pleads.

"And I should be happy about that," your tone rises, emotions overwhelming you. "I should kneel before God and be thankful, go back to living my life as if none of this had happened, but I can’t."

"Stop," Stephen repeats, not knowing what he could do if this went on.

"I can’t, because all I can think about is him, his voice, his advice, his touch," the sound of your footsteps in the booth is audible. "And I don’t know what to do anymore. I find myself in the middle of the night wishing he were there with me, craving his kiss, touching myself wishing he would touch me that way, desiring every part of him, desiring you."

The priest felt he might explode at any moment, give in to his temptations, and worst of all, he wanted it. He had wanted it for a long time.

The curtain on his side of the booth suddenly opens, and he finds himself face to face with you, panting, still wet from the rain, tears streaking your face.

"So tell me, Father," you move closer to where he was sitting, "tell me what I should do when all I want is you?"

"This...this isn’t right," it was the first time in years Stephen found himself stammering with nervousness.

"I KNOW, DAMN IT, I KNOW," you shout, unable to contain yourself any longer. "But I can’t, I can’t resist anymore. I’ve tried, I’ve been trying since the day I met you, and I know you’ve been trying too. Don’t lie to me."

Your hand rests gently on his face, making him sigh. He had missed your touch so much in the past weeks.

"Please, don’t do this," Strange whispers, looking at you, his beautiful blue eyes now darkened by his dilated pupils. He does nothing to pull away, one of his hands moving directly to your waist.

"Tell me to leave, and I will. I’ll only step into this church again on my wedding day, and then you’ll never see me again. But I know you want me here, I know you want me."

He couldn’t resist anymore, not now, not ever.

Stephen pulls you tightly by the waist, guiding you to sit on his lap, finally kissing you again. This time was different; it wasn’t gentle. Instead, he poured all the longing he had felt into that kiss, aggressively holding you tightly as if you might slip away from his arms at any moment, his hand moving up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, deepening the kiss even more.

"I missed you," you whisper between kisses.

"I don’t think I could put into words how much I missed you."

His other hand slides down one of your thighs, removing the friction of the wet fabric of your dress from your body. The only thing you could feel in that moment was the immense pleasure of his body’s heat against yours, sighing in pleasure as his finger neared the wetness already forming in your panties.

You are quick to unzip his pants and touch his already hard cock.

Everything happens quickly, both of you burning with desire, just wanting to feel each other and quench the longing that had consumed you for weeks.

He doesn’t even bother removing your panties, just pushing them aside and making you slide down onto his cock, a long moan escaping your lips, tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes.

You move, experimenting with the different position, holding onto him even tighter, watching him and unable to contain your sounds of delight with each new movement.

Stephen feels himself nearing the edge, and he doesn’t care if he’s coming too quickly. All he could think about in that moment was how beautiful you looked riding him, the most divine vision he had ever seen in his life. If he were to go to hell for this, it didn’t matter—it was worth it.

He wraps a finger around your necklace, with its silver crucifix, pulling you in for one last kiss as the two of you reach your climax.

You rest your head on his shoulder, recovering, feeling his arms holding you tightly.

"Don’t leave me, Stephen, please," you whisper. "I need you."

"I won’t, not ever," his hand gently caresses your back, comforting you. "I promise you."

⋆ ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏❂﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏⋆

@ironstrange1991 (You commented that I could tag you in the posts about Stephen, so I hope you like it )

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my next stories 💞

#stephen strange smut #stephen strange fluff #stephen strange angst #doctor strange smut #doctor strange fluff #priest!Stephen Strange #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes fluff #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 2 months ago

Note

Ahhh your requests are open!! You can write a smut where the reader is America's friend (of legal age!!!) and has a crush on Stephen. I would be happy if you can do something really dirty with dirty talk and creampie.

A little crush

Word count: 3.4k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit smut, Age gap, Oral (F Receiving), (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

Summary: You became good friends with America when you started your journey at Kamar Taj a few months ago. But you also found yourself having a bit of a crush on America’s carer, Doctor Stephen Strange.

A/N: This is a very old request, so I’m not sure if the person who asked for this is still here. But I hope you like this idea.

You were glad that it was America you had met first at Kamar Taj. She was sweet, friendly, and welcoming, and it only took a few months for you two to become best friends.

She was staying in New York with one of the masters: the one and only Doctor Stephen Strange. He had helped America out: saving her after a witch attempted to steal her powers. That was when Stephen became America’s carer, and since the two of you were so close, you often found yourself spending your days and nights at the sanctum. You’d see Stephen a lot, and you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t have a crush on him. He was a good twenty years older than you, but you found him so handsome, and there had been so many nights where you laid in bed having the filthiest of fantasies about him. There was no way you could ever tell America, though.

Just like a lot of other nights, you were staying over at the sanctum. You were resting with America in her room after a long day of training when the urge to down a cold drink hit you.

“I’m gonna go get some soda,” you told her.

Smiling at you, America nodded. “Okay.”

You began your journey to the kitchen, but that was when you made your way past Stephen’s room. The door was open with just the tiniest of cracks and you could hear music pouring through. You couldn’t help it when you looked through the little gap, gasping when you saw Stephen in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and one on his shoulders, his hair slightly damp from the shower. He was humming to the song in the background, and you found yourself staring. He was just so damn beautiful.

Suddenly, Stephen looked in your direction. Your eyes locked and you backed away fast, spinning on your heels.

“Y/N?” you heard Stephen call out to you.

But you ignored him, your cheeks bright red and your heart racing. You chose to just forget about your drink and scurry back to America’s room.

You weren’t sure how you’d face Stephen again.

******

A few hours had passed since your little incident with Stephen. You and America were deep in conversation when there was a knock at her door.

“Come in!” America called out.

Stephen pushed the door open, eyes darting between the two of you. “You two should get some rest now. It’s late and you both have training tomorrow.”

America nodded. “Okay.”

Then Stephen’s eyes landed on you, and slowly but surely, he ran them up and down your body. He shot you a little smile, one that made your body tingle. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

It was hard to fall asleep after that. After the way he looked at you. You tossed and turned, your mind not letting you forget how dark his eyes had got as he stared your way. You needed something to cool you down, so you hopped out of bed to get a drink. You moved into the kitchen as quietly as you could, pouring yourself some cold water, just about to raise the glass to your lips.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice asked.

You gasped and jumped, heart racing as you turned to see Stephen. “You made me jump!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to know why you were still awake.”

“I just wanted to get a drink. I can’t sleep.”

It stayed quiet between the two of you, but your skin felt hot and tingly as Stephen took slow steps your way.

“Are you okay?” he asked, head tilted a little.

You turned around. Stephen was so close to you. Closer than he had ever been. You stared into his eyes before looking at the floor, feeling your face go all hot. You must have been blushing.

“I’m good,” you finally said.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, taking another slow step your way.

“No. No, you’re not.”

“Why won’t you look at me then?”

Swallowing, you realised just how close Stephen was. Just inches away. You could smell him. That deep, masculine scent. It made your whole body heat up. “I can’t tell you. It’s embarrassing...”

You felt a long finger on your chin, your head tilting up. You met Stephen’s eyes and just like earlier, his eyes moved up and down your body. Slowly, he leaned in close, his soft-looking lips by your ear. “I know that you were watching me earlier. I bet you liked what you saw, huh?”

“I… Um. Ma-ma-maybe,” you stuttered, unable to think of the correct words to say.

Stephen kept his eyes on you and chuckled. “Seems to me that a certain someone here has a crush on me, hmm?”

“I’m so sorry, Stephen.”

“No, you’re not sorry. I’ve known about your little crush on me for a while now.”

You had been caught. Really, you weren’t sorry. He knew about your little crush on him and had caught you red-handed with your eyes on him. You weren’t subtle or slick. No. You were painfully obvious.

Stephen pressed his broad body to yours suddenly, and it had you gasping.

“Stephen?” you asked, grabbing his arm.

“Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want from me,” he whispered.

“No, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“It’s… bad. It’s inappropriate. You’re so much older than me.”

Stephen laughed lowly. “Is it inappropriate that I think about you?”

Blinking at him, you gave him a wide-eyed stare. “You do?”

“Yes. A lot.”

“Oh...”

You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore after that. Standing on the tips of your toes, you softly pressed your lips to his. The kiss was slow and soft as Stephen held you to him, the two of you sharing a sweet kiss. But then you remembered your friend. The girl who had been so kind and warm to you.

You pulled away from Stephen quickly, your hands on his chest as you shook your head. “We can’t do this.”

Stephen’s brows pulled together. “Why?”

“What about America? What if she finds out?”

“She doesn’t have to know. This can be our secret. America is sleeping right now, anyway. I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

You could definitely keep the secret to yourself. You already had experience with that. Humming, you nodded at Stephen. “Okay,” you said. “As long as you promise to keep us a secret because I’m not sure how America would react if she saw us doing this. I never want to lose her as a friend.”

“I won’t say a word to her. I promise.”

You knew you could trust him. You kissed him again, pushing your tongue into his mouth, the kiss growing more intense by the second, his hands moving all over your body until he grabbed you and lifted you onto the kitchen counter. One big hand pushed through the elastic of your pyjama bottoms. He pressed a skilled finger to your clit, his finger circling against the wet, sensitive bud. You whined against Stephen’s lips, the feeling sending a spark up your body.

“You’re so wet, Sweetheart. Go on, tell me. Tell me what you want,” Stephen asked you again.

“I want you so bad,” you finally confessed with a cry.

“Good girl.” Stephen grabbed at you, picking you up from the counter as your legs wrapped around his waist. “I’m gonna give you what you want.”

He held you tight as he carried you to his bedroom. Stephen kicked the door shut and with a wave of his hand, the sound of the door locking hit your ears. He must have locked his door with some kind of spell. A second later, his tongue was back in your mouth, his grunts and groans loud as he got you settled on the bed. His eager hands tugged your pyjamas and panties off, and he took a step back, eyes moving up and down your body.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. His lips met your neck and he gave you wet, little kisses along your breasts and stomach, not stopping until he got to that spot between your thighs.

Stephen suddenly gave you a dark look. You locked eyes, the two of you almost staring each other down before Stephen finally gave you a cocky smirk. His tongue pushed out between his lips as he ran it right along your slit, right until he got to your clit. A soft moan fell from your lips, your back arching at the sudden feeling of pleasure. You brought a shaky hand down, dragging your fingers through Stephen’s locks.

“Stephen,” you whined out. “Mm, feels so good.”

You were being too loud. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip, trying to keep your sounds of pleasure muffled as Stephen kept playing with your clit. You had never felt anything so good. Your fingers gripped Stephen’s hair hard and tight, a fistful of hair in your grasp. Stephen wouldn’t stop. He just kept licking and sucking at you as you laid there, trying to keep your filthy sounds of pleasure to yourself.

But he managed to make it even better as he slid a long finger into you, curling it just right as he kept taking care of your clit. It was all too much for you. His lips, his finger. Another finger. He slipped one more into you, and then you found yourself clamping your free hand to your mouth to keep your scream low and muffled.

“Stephen!” you called out, the sound thankfully softened thanks to the palm of your hand up against your lips.

Stephen’s eyes met your half-opened ones and he smirked against your wet pussy. Then he carried on sucking and licking at you, his goatee tickling you with each second that passed. It just added to the pleasure. You were getting closer and closer. You could feel it. You were on the brink of your orgasm.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whined to Stephen.

Stephen began to pump his fingers into you at an impossible speed once you said that. He wouldn’t stop. He just seemed so focused on giving you nothing but pleasure. You rocked your hips against his face, so desperate and eager to cum. His nose began to rub up against your sensitive bud, his tongue lapping at your pussy lips. You just couldn’t control yourself anymore. You came right then and there, crying out loudly behind your hand as the pleasure hit you. Stephen didn’t take his lips off of you, though. He kept licking and sucking at you, dragging out your orgasm and making it last as long as possible.

Panting wildly, you allowed yourself a few moments to calm down. Your pussy still felt so sensitive as you looked down at Stephen, his lips and goatee glistening with your pussy juices. He pulled his fingers from you and moved up your body, pressing his lips to yours. You could instantly taste yourself right there on his mouth. It was filthy but in the best way possible.

Shoving your tongue into Stephen’s mouth, the two of you laid there kissing one another hungrily. But Stephen suddenly pulled away and stood up. He smirked at you as you watched him pull his clothes off in a second flat. You gasped when you saw how big he was: thick and long and veiny. You wanted to feel him inside you badly.

Stephen got settled on his knees in front of you, keeping your legs spread before he grabbed his cock, pumping himself up and down. He gave you a long, deep kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

“I really wanna hear all those beautiful sounds you’ll make,” he said lowly, “but you gotta be quiet for me.”

You nodded. “I’ll be quiet.”

He kissed you again before pressing the swollen tip of his cock to your entrance. Slowly, he slid into you, and you already found yourself whining at the stretched out sensation he was giving you. He was just so big. He groaned above you, pushing into you more.

“You’re so big,�� you said with a whisper. You had never felt anything so big and thick and perfect. “God, you feel so big inside me.”

“Fuck,” Stephen grumbled out. “You feel so fucking tight, warm and wet.”

He inched into you more and more until you had all of him, until you were stuffed with his cock. That was when he pulled out and began to pump himself back into you, stretching you out with his cock. You felt so full as he fucked you, your legs wrapping around him as he took you and fucked you and made you all his. In and out, in and out.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he muttered into your ear. “God, you feel so good. Does my cock feel good inside of you? Hm?”

You nodded, whining as you bit into your bottom lip. “So… So good. Please, you feel so good.”

“Mm, this is what you wanted, huh? You wanted my cock. You wanted it so fucking bad. You’re taking it so good, baby. You’re taking my cock like such a good girl. Look at you. Look at how good you look like this.”

You didn’t do it on purpose. It was just that Stephen’s cock felt so good stuffed inside of you and his filthy words were getting to you as well: the moan was ripped right out of you, the sound loud and shrill. Stephen’s hand was suddenly on your mouth, your eyes big as he carried on fucking you and filling you up.

“You gotta stay quiet for me,” he said. “I know it feels good. I know that little pussy wanted my cock so fucking bad, but you can’t keep moaning so loud. I know it’s hard. My cock feels so fucking good inside of you, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm!” you let out behind his hand.

He chuckled. “You take it so damn good. You’re taking every fucking inch. Look at that look in your eyes. I bet you’re so close for me again. Are you? Hm? Are you close?”

You were, and all you could do was nod in response as he slid in and out of you, his cock so thick as he took you. Your orgasm was seconds away. You could feel it. Stephen pulled out of you and pushed into you deep, the movements fast and wild, the sound of skin hitting skin in the air.

“I’m so close,” you said, your voice so soft and muffled. “Mm, I’m so—” It was all too much, and soon you found yourself losing control right there with his cock stuffed inside of you. Your orgasm hit you, taking over your whole body. Your skin felt hot and your toes curled as Stephen slammed in and out of you.

“There we go,” Stephen said with a chuckle.

You laid there panting for a good full minute until Stephen pulled his soaked cock out of you. He flipped you over so that you were on top, his hands moving from your waist to your hips to your ass, lifting you up before he lowered you back down onto his cock. A second later, he had filled you back up, stretching you out once again. Hands on his broad shoulders, you began to ride his cock wildly. Up and down, up and down. You took every inch of his cock as he groaned below you.

“That’s it,” Stephen muttered. “Just like that. Keep riding my cock.”

Your own moans were far too loud so you pressed your face right to his neck, hoping that would keep the sounds muffled. You couldn’t help it when you sucked at his soft skin, leaving behind little love bites as you bounced on his cock.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” said Stephen. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N. Fuck.”

There was a knock at the door suddenly. A loud one. It made you jump a little, your eyes widening as you stared down at Stephen.

“Shit,” he said, voice laced with panic. “Stop.”

You halted then and there, waiting to see Stephen’s next move.

Stephen cleared his throat. “Who’s there?” he asked, a fake, sleepy tone in his words. Like he had just woken up.

“It’s me,” America said from the other side of the door. “I was just wondering if you knew where Y/N was. I just woke up and can’t find her anywhere.”

“Uh,” Stephen said, that feigned, sleepy tone still there in his voice, “maybe she went for a walk or went back to Kamar Taj or something. I dunno.”

“Hmmm, okay then,” said America. “I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

You both stayed still with Stephen’s cock still buried deep inside of you. You waited to hear the sound of America’s door clicking shut, and with that, you lifted yourself up that little bit and worked yourself back down Stephen’s cock, eager to feel him again. You were moving fast and hard, your nails digging into Stephen’s shoulders as you took his cock. It was almost impossible to keep your moans to yourself as his thick cock stretched you out, and every now and then, a pleasure-filled moan would slip from your lips.

His swollen tip kept hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. You were so close, and it seemed like Stephen could sense it.

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock for me again,” he said from below you. “Fucking do it. Just cum.”

You nodded, bouncing right there on his length, so eager to feel your third orgasm of the night. You rode him hard and fast, not stopping until that feeling of wild pleasure pooled all over your body. Stephen was fucking up into you, dragging out the feeling, letting your orgasm turn your body all hot and shaky.

He pounded into you from below with a groan. “I’m gonna cum,” he said.

“Mm, please cum inside me,” you whispered.

“Fuck, okay,” he said with gritted teeth.

One, two, three more thrusts, and then it was it for him. He pounded into you deep and hard, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he lost all control and emptied himself inside of you. Hot and sticky, his cum coated your inner walls and you shuddered at the feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he let out with a pant.

For a little while, the two of you just stayed like that before Stephen reached forward, giving you a quick, sweet kiss. Then he gave your ass a tap, and you knew that was his way of telling you to lift yourself off of him. The second you did so, you felt his cum spilling right out of you. You laid against his chest, your own breathing heavy, but it was Stephen who got his back on track first.

You laid there in the bed as he got up and put some underwear on. Then he moved into the bathroom and came back with a warm cloth, letting it gently trace along your body and cleaning up the filthy mess he made. He threw it to the floor before sliding into bed with you, your head suddenly back on his chest. He kept his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. Eyes heavy, you were just about to let them shut and get lost in sleep.

“Y/N,” Stephen said softly.

You looked up at him, watching him smile at you. “Yeah?”

“You better get back to America’s room before she gets suspicious,” he said.

You had almost forgotten. “Oh, right.” You kissed him before you grabbed your hastily thrown pyjamas from the floor. “Goodnight, Stephen,” you said as you slowly moved towards the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said.

Being as quiet as you could, you slipped back into America’s room. You moved into her bathroom, cleaned yourself up that tiny bit more, and then put your pyjamas back on. Then you climbed back into bed and America almost made you jump when she spoke up.

“Where were you?” she asked in the darkness.

“Um… I just went for a walk,” you lied. “I couldn’t sleep. I just needed to clear my head, you know?”

“Oh, okay,” America said, voice sounding sleepy.

You were pretty tired yourself. Your eyes slowly shut and you couldn’t fight back the smile as you thought about what had just happened. What a night. Stephen’s touch had been so skilled, so perfect. Everything you had imagined. You just hoped that you’d get to do it again, and hopefully, the next time wouldn’t be so rushed. You also hoped America wouldn’t ever find out the truth.

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brunchable · 6 months ago

Text

We Can’t Be Friends || Doctor Strange x F!Reader.

Genre: Angst(?) || Song MV inspired

Pairings: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Quick Summary: Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.

A/N: Lisssteeen, this is not proof read lol. I haven't written in a while, I am feeling rusty so please be forgiving hehe. Every nice interactions are most valued <3

Stephen had been gone for a month for the third time, with no word, no warnings. You had spent countless nights worrying, wondering if he was safe, if he would ever return. And now, as the sparkle of the portal opened and caught your attention, Stephen stepped out, looking weary and worn from his latest mission.

You were waiting for him in the living room, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration, yet your expressions show otherwise. You had been rehearsing what you would say, but now that he was here, the words felt heavy on your tongue.

“You're back. Where in the seven hells have you been this time?” You began, your voice firm but calm, you had that motherly tone when a teen returns home from sneaking out.

“Seven hells pretty much sums it up… can we do this later? I just got back,” Stephen chuckled, rubbing his temples, the tone of your voice grating and adding up to his headache, “I’m exhausted.”

“No, I think we should address this, now,” You insisted, pointing to the ground for emphasis.

Stephen sighed, sensing the confrontation he so wanted to avoid. “Alright, I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Stephen, you’ve been gone for a month. No warnings, no pass the message from Wong. . . What is going on?”

“Y/N, you know what my responsibilities are. The world needs me. I can’t just ignore that,” Stephen said defensively.

“A heads up would be nice. Like how you were before. It feels like I’m nothing more than a distraction to you,” You shot back, your eyes narrowing.

Stephen’s expression hardened with irritation. “You knew what you were getting into from the start. My work–my duty is important. Do I need to explain myself every single time?”

“Why are you so defensive? Is it wrong of me to at least know where you are? So I don't worry all the time? At least still show me that I matter to you. Right now, it feels like you and your missions are all that matter,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N. Clea and I are working to protect this world. It’s not like I’m off on a vacation. I’m trying to keep everyone safe, including you.”

It was impossible to overlook the single name that slipped from Stephen's lips. The air seemed to thicken even more with tension. Your face transformed dramatically; what had been a mask of frustration quickly crumbled, replaced by a deep, probing suspicion. Your eyes narrowed, searching Stephen's face for any hint of deceit, and your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the name that now hung heavily between you.

“Who’s Clea?” you asked, making sure to stress the name you didn't want to say, your voice tinged of disdain.

“Fuck,” Stephen muttered under his breath. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized he should have told you who he was teaming up with sooner. He wondered why he had left out such an important detail, knowing it would have made a difference in your reaction. . . or make it worse?

“Clea is from the dark dimension, I have caused an incursion in reality and I had to go with her and fix it, okay?” Stephen explained it for what it is. . . to him at least.

“So, you were with her every time you vanished without a trace?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm and a barely concealed resentment that felt like a knife twist in your chest.

“Like I said, I had to fix the incursion I caused,” he responded, his tone distant, as if the gravity of his words could shield him from the emotional storm brewing between you.

You stared at him, not caring what he even meant by 'incursion'. Your mind was a whirlwind, fixated on the crushing weight of this new revelation, which felt like an earthquake shattering the foundation of everything you thought you knew.

The man who once made you feel safe and cherished now stood before you, a stranger entwined in secrets and sacrifices you couldn't begin to fathom.

Stephen ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “I don’t have time for this. If you can’t understand that my work is important, then maybe we do need to rethink this relationship.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical blow. Your throat stings badly as you fight to prevent any tears from falling. “So, that’s it? You’re willing to throw everything away because I worry about you?”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Y/N. All I do is try to save the world. If you can’t see that, then maybe we need to reconsider,” Stephen replied coldly.

“Okay. . .so you find a new partner in crime and the first thing you could think of is to ‘reconsider’,” You nodded, a little laugh might've escaped from you and it triggered something in Stephen.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like I’m choosing Clea over you. This isn’t some petty love triangle, Y/N. This is about life and death, about the safety of the entire world!” Stephen’s voice was now raised.

“Oh my god! Enough about saving the world already! You belong to the world! Alright, I get it! But don't expect me to be nonchalant when you've spent your time ‘saving the world’ with her. Meanwhile I rot in my apartment worried sick if you're even still alive because I only want to belong to you.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air, firmly jabbing his chest with your finger

Stephen clenched his fist tightly, the knuckles turning white, as he took a deliberate step closer. His presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that seemed to amplify the tension in the air, “You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t miss you? I have responsibilities that go beyond us—"

“If you're thinking I am asking you to abandon your responsibilities, I am not. I didn’t think you’d understand me.” You replied, striving to maintain your composure under his unwavering presence and the intense gaze fixated on your face.

Stephen shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I never hid what my life was about, but you knew what signed up for when you said yes to me.”

“I did but I didn't sign up to be treated like an afterthought,” Y/N said, your voice softening slightly but still firm.

Stephen sighed and was silent for a moment, “So, what then? What do you want me to do? It is so hard to find balance with all this shit happening around us.”

“I don't know. . . whatever I may want, it'll be impossible for you to do,” You said, your voice resigned as you crossed your arms, a gesture of both self-protection and defiance.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s your solution? To just walk away?”

“That was your suggestion first, wasn't it?” You responded, a low, mirthless chuckle escaping your lips.

Stephen looked down, his silence speaking volumes. The decision crystallized in your mind. You turned away, grabbed your keys from the table, and headed toward the door, needing to cool off and get your head straight. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the Sanctum, a final punctuation to your heated exchange.

× × × × ×

You gripped the steering wheel tightly as you drove through the darkened streets of New York City. The familiar hum of the engine and the blur of passing lights did little to calm your racing heart. Your eyes were red from preventing a single tear to shed, but the tears came after being alone, blurring your vision and forcing you to blink them away repeatedly.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion, and a deep, aching sense of betrayal. The argument with Stephen played on a relentless loop in your head, each word echoing with painful clarity.

"Maybe we do need to rethink this relationship."

"Maybe we shouldn’t be together."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the hurtful words, but they clung to you like a stubborn shadow. How did it come to this? How did your love, once so vibrant and full of promise, deteriorated into something so cold and distant?

Your thoughts drifted to the early days of your relationship. The way Stephen's eyes would light up when he saw you, the warmth of his touch, the way both of you would laugh and talk for hours about everything and nothing. You remembered the adventures you shared, the quiet moments of intimacy, and the feeling of safety and love that enveloped you whenever you were with him.

But those memories felt like they belonged to another life, another couple. Now, Stephen was always preoccupied, always focused on his missions with Clea. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being an afterthought, a secondary priority in his life. The loneliness you felt was suffocating, and tonight’s argument had only confirmed your deepest fears.

You pulled over to a quiet spot by the Hudson River, the soft glow of the city lights reflecting off the water. You turned off the engine and sat there in silence, the sound of your own breathing loud in the stillness of the night.

You leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the sense of impending loss almost too much to bear. You loved Stephen with all your heart, but you couldn’t keep living like this—constantly feeling like you were competing for his attention, always coming second to his duties as a sorcerer.

A part of you understood the importance of Stephen's work. You admired his dedication, his unwavering commitment to protecting the world from mystical threats. But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore your own needs, your own desire for a partner who was present, who made you feel valued and loved.

The idea asking Wong to use the Runes of Kof-Kol had come to you in a moment of clarity during your drive. It was a drastic measure, but it felt like the only way to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak of this deteriorating relationship. If you both forgot each other, if you became strangers once more, maybe then you could find peace.

You opened your eyes and gazed out at the river, the dark waters flowing steadily under the moonlit sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you made your decision. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would hurt like hell, but it was the only way you could move forward without the constant pain of their fractured love.

As you started the car and drove back towards the Sanctum, you knew what you had to do, and you hoped that in forgetting, you could both find a way to heal. The city lights blurred once more as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of acceptance. You were ready to let go, ready to find yourself again, even if it meant losing the man you had loved with all your heart.

× × × ×

After driving aimlessly for hours, you finally pull up in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The building looms before you, its ancient architecture shrouded in an almost foreboding silence. You sit in the car for a few moments, gathering your strength, knowing the decision you have made is final. The city is quieter now, the hustle and bustle having died down to a gentle hum in the background.

You take a deep breath and step out of the car, your legs feeling like lead. You walk up to the front door and pause for a moment, your hand resting on the cold brass handle. Memories of happier times flash before your eyes—moments of laughter, love, and a bond that once felt unbreakable. But those memories are now overshadowed by the reality of your fractured relationship.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. The familiar scent of incense and ancient books fills your nostrils, but instead of comfort, it brings a pang of sadness. The Sanctum feels emptier than ever, a reflection of the void that has grown between you and Stephen.

As you walk into the living room, you see Stephen sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, his eyes filled with the weariness which mirrors your own.

“Y/N, you're back,” Stephen says softly, standing up. “I was worried about you.”

You nod, your face devoid of emotion. “I needed some time to think.”

Stephen takes a few careful steps, “I know I haven’t been around much. And I know tonight's argument was... I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry for that.”

You feel a flicker of acknowledgment at his words, you look into his eyes, the eyes you once found so much solace in, and feel a deep sense of finality, “I need to see Wong,” you say, your voice steady and cold, “Is he here?”

Stephen steps closer, his gaze searching your face for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Are you okay now? About earlier. . .”

“I'm fine, Stephen. Really,” you say with a forced smile. “I just need to speak to Wong.”

“Wong? Sure, I'll summon him for you.” Stephen's eyes narrow slightly, sensing something is off. He didn’t think he’d get out of trouble that easily.

A few moments later, Wong enters the room, his expression pondering about what you might need him for. “Y/N, Stephen said you wanted to speak with me. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and glanced at Stephen who remained curious about why you needed Wong.

“Are we able to chat somewhere private?” You asked, your eyes flickering towards Stephen which Wong took notice of.

Wong turned his head towards Stephen and then you, “Of course. Follow me.” He headed towards the door to Kamar-Taj.

He led you to the empty library, ensuring no one else was around, and gestured for you to sit across the table from him.

“How can I help?” He asked.

“I hope this isn't too much to ask. . . but can you please cast the Runes of Kof-Kol on me?”

Wong's expression shifts to one of alarm. “The Runes of Kof-Kol? Those spells are dangerous, Y/N. What could possibly make you consider using them?”

You explained the situation, trying your best to keep your voice from breaking, “Stephen and I... we’re not working anymore. It’s too painful. I need to forget him. I want to move on quickly. I don't want to spend months wallowing in heartbreak.”

Wong listens quietly, his expression softening with understanding. “I see. But you know the risks, don’t you? The Runes of Kof-Kol only erases memories, not feelings.”

“I know,” you say firmly.

Wong nods slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand your pain, Y/N. But this is a decision that cannot be undone. I urge you to think about it very carefully. Take some time to reflect on whether this is truly what you want.”

You shake your head, your decision unwavering. “I've already thought about it, Wong. I’ve thought about nothing else. This is what needs to be done.”

Wong sighs, his expression resigned yet compassionate. “Still, I urge you to give it a few more days. I suggest you stay here at Kamar-Taj. Meditate, reflect, and if you still feel the same, we will discuss it again.”

You nod slowly, appreciating his concern. “Alright. I’ll stay and think about it.”

× × × × ×

After you left the library, Wong stood silently, his thoughts troubled by your request. He knew the depth of the pain you were feeling, but the Runes of Kof-Kol were not to be taken lightly. As he pondered the situation, he sensed a presence lingering near the bookshelves. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Stephen, partially hidden in the shadows, clearly eavesdropping.

“Strange,” Wong called out, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can come out. I know you've been listening.”

Stephen stepped out, a mixture of guilt and concern etched on his face. “I didn't mean to intrude. I just… needed to know what she was thinking.”

Wong crossed his arms, looking at Stephen with a mixture of disappointment and empathy. “You heard what she said. She's feeling hurt. . . more than I think you realize.”

Stephen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know I've been neglecting her, but my responsibilities... the missions... They demand so much of me. I never wanted her to feel like this.”

Wong nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Your duties are important, Stephen. But so are your personal relationships. Y/N came to you because she believed in you, trusted you. But right now, she feels like she's lost in your shadow.”

Stephen's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a rare display of vulnerability. “I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose her, but I also can't abandon my duties.”

Wong walked over to Stephen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The balance between your responsibilities and personal life is delicate, but not impossible to achieve. You need to make her feel valued and prioritize your time better. She asked about the Runes of Kof-Kol, so she's considering erasing her memories of you. Right now, though, she needs space to think.”

Stephen's breath hitched, the gravity of Wong's words hitting him hard. “She wants to forget me completely.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “She believes it's the only way to move on from the pain. I advised her to stay here for a few days, to meditate and reflect before making such a drastic decision.”

“I can't let her do this. I need to talk to her, to make her understand that I can change, that I can be better.” Stephen closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He was about to walk away to find you but Wong stopped him.

“Right now, she needs time. Barging in and trying to convince her otherwise might only push her further away. Give her the space she asked for. If she decides to go through with it, we'll deal with it then. But for now, respect her wishes.” Wong shook his head gently.

Stephen glanced in your direction with a sigh, shrugged off Wong's hand, and returned to the New York Sanctum. That night, sleep eluded him despite his restless tossing and turning. No position felt comfortable, not when your scent lingered on his pillowcases.

Anxiety ate him up, twisting his stomach into knots as he replayed the argument repeatedly in his mind. Each harsh word and dismissive gesture haunted him, intensifying his regret.

He had always prided himself on his composure and control, but now he felt them slipping away. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“I should have been more understanding, I should have put myself in her shoes,” he thought, his mind consumed by remorse.

The thought of your hurt expression cut him deeply, more than any physical pain he had ever endured. He realized how much he valued your presence, your support, and the warmth you brought into his life. The fear of losing you was a constant ache, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

He was ashamed of how he had dismissed your feelings, how he had let his pride overshadow the love and respect he had for you.

Desperation clawed at him as he searched for a way to make things right, to prove that he could be the partner you deserved. In the silence of the night, he vowed to himself that he would do better, that he would learn from his mistakes and show you how much you meant to him. That is if it’s not too late.

× × × × ×

Two days later, the peaceful atmosphere of Kamar-Taj had failed to ease the unrest in your heart. Despite your attempts at meditation and introspection, the serenity of the surroundings could not calm the storm of emotions within you. Your resolve remains the same. You knew what needed to be done, and it was time to inform Wong of your decision.

You found Wong in the courtyard, meticulously tending to a small garden. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with the crisp mountain air, creating a serene environment that contrasted sharply with your inner conflict.

“Wong,” you called softly, approaching him.

Wong looked up from his work, his expression calm but observant. “Y/N, have you made your decision?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have. I still want to use the Runes of Kof-Kol.”

Wong sighed, setting aside his tools. “I was hoping you might reconsider, but I respect your decision. . .” he trailed off, noticing Stephen walk towards you, “Give me a moment? I'll back.”

As Wong turned to leave, Stephen entered the courtyard with his presence of authority. He had been waiting for this moment, fully aware that your decision was imminent.

With careful, deliberate steps, he approached you. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and each passing second felt like an eternity as he stood there gathering the right words to say.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice calm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, his eyes intensely scanning your face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Is this truly what you want?”

You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance behind you. “Stephen,” you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to—I just wanted to apologize... that it has led to this. I was wrong…” Stephen began, but his voice seemed to fade into the background as you stared at his face intently, trying to memorize every detail.

As Stephen spoke, the reality of the moment hit you hard. You felt an overwhelming need to imprint his features in your memory: the way his brow furrowed with concern, the earnestness in his eyes, and the subtle lines that hinted at the weight he carried.

Time seemed to slow down, and every second stretched into an eternity. You noticed the slight quiver of his lips, the way his hair framed his face, and even the small scar on his cheek that you had always found endearing.

Your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him like this, so close and vulnerable. Each detail became precious, a fragment of a moment you desperately wanted to hold onto.

The intensity of your emotions made it hard to breathe, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Even though Stephen's voice was a distant echo, the look in his eyes told you everything—you were both struggling with the same pain, the pain of letting this story die.

“. . . I love you, Y/N—but if this will save you from the hurt I’ve caused you then so be it. I will cast the spell on you.”

You were taken aback, surprise flickering across your face. “You would do that?”

Stephen stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Yes. If this is what it takes for you to find peace, then I’ll do it.”

Stephen leads you back in the New York Sanctum, heading towards the ritual chamber in the Undercroft. Each step you took echoed with the weight of what was about to happen. Stephen’s mind was a whirlwind of memories and emotions.

He glanced at you walking beside him, your face a mask of calm determination. Opposite to the storm he knew must be raging inside you. He wished he could reach out, take your hand, and pull you back from the edge of this irreversible decision. But he knew he had no right to, not after everything.

As you descended the final set of steps into the Undercroft, Stephen’s heart ached with regret. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions where others saw only obstacles. But here, in this most personal of battles, he had failed. He had failed to protect what mattered most.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Stephen’s mind raced with unspoken words, a torrent of emotions he struggled to contain.

He remembered the early days of your relationship, the way your laughter had filled the Sanctum with warmth, the quiet moments of understanding, and shared dreams. Those memories now felt like shards of glass, cutting into him with each step he took.

He glanced at you again, your determined stride a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was for every time he had put his duties before you, for every missed moment, every broken promise. But he knew that words would not change the course you had set for yourself. Actions had spoken louder, and they had driven you to this point.

You reached the entrance to the ritual chamber, Stephen paused, taking a deep breath. The room beyond was prepared, the symbols drawn, the components ready. It was a place of power, of ancient magic, but today it felt like a tomb for the love you had shared.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice soft but heavy with regret. “I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could turn back time and make different choices, I would. But I respect your decision. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

You looked at him with eyes glistening of unshed tears, “Thank you, Stephen. . . I hope you find happiness, I really do.”

With that, you stepped into the center of the circle, and Stephen moved to the edge, his heart pounding in his chest. He began to chant the incantation, his voice strong and unwavering despite the storm of emotions inside him. The symbols around you began to glow, the magic swirling in the air like a tangible presence. You felt a strange sensation, a mix of warmth and cold as the spell took hold.

As Stephen chanted, your mind drifted to the memories you were about to lose. The first time you met flashed vividly in your mind—the way Stephen had looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. You remembered feeling an instant connection, a spark that ignited something deep within you. You had been fascinated by his intellect, his confidence, and the way he carried himself with such purpose.

The mornings you woke up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies. The way he would brush a strand of hair from your face and kiss your forehead, making you feel like the most cherished person in the world. You remembered the laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the sound of his voice when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

As the incantation reached its peak, a bright light enveloped you, and you felt a sudden rush of memories and emotions being pulled away. The love, the pain, the shared moments—all of it faded into a distant, forgotten dream. Your vision blurred, the light intensifying until it was all-consuming.

Then, everything went dark. You felt your knees give way, the world tilting as you lost consciousness. The last thing you heard was Stephen’s voice, calling your name out of concern as you slipped into oblivion.

When you finally stirred, you found yourself lying on the familiar softness of your own bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar hum of the city outside your window grounded you, your arms reaching on the other side of the bed and it was empty. You shook it off, chuckling to yourself.

You sat up slowly, looking around your apartment. Everything was in its place—the books on the shelf, the photos on the wall—now mostly of you by yourself, the cozy blanket draped over the armchair. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet you feel disorientated.

You made yourself a cup of tea, the warm liquid offering a small comfort. As you sipped it, you stared out of the window at the bustling city below. The people, the cars, the rhythm of daily life—it all seemed so normal, so unremarkable. Yet, there was an inexplicable void within you, a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface but you try not to dwell on it.

Days turned into weeks, and while the feeling of emptiness persisted, you found ways to move on. You immersed yourself in work, reconnected with old friends, and took up new hobbies. Slowly, you began to carve out a new life for yourself, one that was no longer defined by the shadows of forgotten memories.

× × × × ×

Stephen sat alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum's library, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the walls. The room, once a place of solace and knowledge, now felt suffocatingly empty. He absentmindedly traced the spine of a book he had read countless times, but the words blurred together, unable to hold his attention. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of you.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness he felt inside. He remembered how you used to stand there with him, your hand in his, both of you silently watching the world below. Those moments had been a rare reprieve from his responsibilities, a time when he could just be Stephen, not the Master of the New York Sanctum.

The silence of the Sanctum was interrupted only by the distant hum of the city's nightlife, but it felt louder than ever. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with memories of you—the laughter you shared, the quiet conversations late into the night, the way you used to tease him about his incessant need to organize his magical artifacts. Now, those echoes were all he had left, but he guesses that he at least deserved to go through this heartbreak alone.

Wong quietly stood with him, the silence heavy between them. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “Keeping yourself busy?”

Stephen nodded, his response short and clipped. “Yep.”

“She did brighten up the place, didn't she?” Wong glanced around the room, taking in the emptiness that seemed more pronounced now.

Stephen's eyes followed Wong's gaze, a hint of a sad smile touching his lips. “Yep.”

Wong shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Stephen with curiosity and concern. "So, what's next for you?"

Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he contemplated the question. The thought of waiting was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and what he still yearned for.

“I don't know... Wait for her, I guess. Wait until our paths cross again, wait until she loves me again.”

TAGS: @goldencherriess @strangeions @sobeautifullyobsessed

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #benedict cumberbatch imagine #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange imagine #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x female reader

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creamecafe · 6 months ago

Note

Hii!! Can you do one for Stephen where he found out he and the reader are married in several words thanks to America, and the two of you are pining for each other until he accidentally reveals he’s truly in love with you? Thank you!! <33

I Know I'd Go Back to You

Summary: Stephen has always loved you and you with him from the start. But you both ended things on short notice. Until America reveals you both are together in different worlds in the multiverse, will Stephen take the risk to let it happen in his universe?

Pairing: Stephen Strange x GN!Reader

Word Count: ???

Warnings: none just fluff, pining, a bit of angst, flashbacks, heartbreak, deja vu to palmerstrange 🥲

Author's Note: I'm literally so sorry @smokeywhalee that this literally almost took 2 years. But here it is, FINALLYY! Hope you enjoy

Read on Wattpad and AO3 here

Life was normal for neurosurgeon, Doctor Stephen Strange and for you too. You both met in college in New York, he was studying to be a doctor and you were studying to be a lawyer.

Despite your guys' different classes times and different career choices, both of you had a unexplainable attraction to each other. You started off as friends, Stephen would walk you to your class or you would walk out during the four seasons.

But both of you knew you wanted something more. It wasn't until in March 2013 that Stephen asked you to be his partner. He was a nervous wreck, worried that he would ruin the friendship, you both have. But you said yes. Now being with you is the best thing to happen and to occupy his life happily besides being a neurosurgeon.

You would wait for him after work to drive home and spend time together. He would also love to take you on expensive and fancy dates, because he always wanted the best for you. Life was going great for the both of you.

Until February 2, 2016 came. The day of Stephen got into a car crash. You were waiting for him in the restaurant with the reservation you guys both made 5 months in advance.

10 minutes had passed and you started to become worried. You knew he wasn't the type of guy to stood you up or leave you hanging. It was until you got a call from the hospital Stephen works at. You picked it up

"Hello?" Your voice shaking nervousily

"Hello, is this Y/N?"

"Yes it is"

"I'm sorry to inform you that Stephen Strange has been in a car crash and is in critical need."

Your heart stopped. You couldn't believe this was happening. Stephen gotten into a car crash.

"Oh-oh my God. Is he ok?" Your voice got higher and shaking even more

"We're trying to take care of him right now and get him under care as immediate as possible."

"I'm on my way, please tell him that."

"Will do, sorry to tell you the news."

Grabbing your coat, you wasted no time leaving the restaurant. You explained to the waitress you have to leave to a emergency. You called out a taxi and asked to go to Metropolitan General Hospital."

7 minutes passed with traffic in the way. You ran to the front desk and asked to see Stephen Strange, saying you were his partner. The lady in the front told you that he's in surgery and won't be conscious in another day or two. You were willing to wait those days, just to make sure he was still alive. You took a seat in the waiting room, hoping and praying Stephen would be ok. The anxiety was eating away of how bad his condition could be. Soon enough, you fell asleep until the next day.

You take a look at your phone and see it's 5am of February 3, 2016. You go to buy yourself a snack fron the vending machine as you missed your dinner from the restaurant you and Stephen were supposed to be. You waited and bought 2 more snacks to keep yourself awake.

"Y/N L/N?"

Your head raised to who was calling you.

"Y/N L/N?"

Ahead of you see a lady in a white coat and scrubs with a clipboard call your name.

"That's me." You raise your hand.

"You can see Stephen now."

Your heart beat gladly. It must be a sign he's still alive, probably the not best condition but you're glad he's still alive.

You go to him room and see him in bed. His right eye is swollen and both of his hand are raised up supported by strings and 11 stainless steel pins to support his nerves. He was sleeping. You quietly thanked the nurse.

You sat by him and waited till he woke up. 25 minutes have passed and he did.

You held his shoulder gently until he was fully conscious.

"Hey, hey. It's me Y/N. It's going to be ok."

Stephen looks at you and looks at his hands.

"What did they do?"

You explained everything that the doctor told you and how long he was in surgery, the same time you waited for him to make sure he was well.

He repeated the same words "What they did do?" Can't believing what his eyes are seeing.

The next past few days you stayed by his side to make sure he was well. You were by his side in therapy, helped him shaved supporting him along the way.

But his attitude didn't change of bitter he had become. And he definitely didn't show appreciation for you either. You went into his apartment to drop off the groceries you bought for him. He was upset due to a meeting regarding a procedure in Tokyo. He was going on he needs a loan of at least $200,000.

You tried to tell him it's best for him to stop as this was having so much control over him, especially his condition. He explains that no matter how much therapy he receives, he's not getting any better, can't get back to the way he was before.

You explain to him that there other things that can give his life meaning.

"Like what? Like you?" He snapped back at you.

You were shocked. He never spoken to you in a matter like this before. No matter how cocky he could be, he knew better than to talk to you in a way that he knew could hurt you.

"This is the part where you apologize."

"This is the part where you leave."

That's when it hit you, he really changed. He wasn't the same boy who would walk you to class or always compliment your outfits. He was still Stephen, but not the Stephen you have loved for 3 years.

You try to talk to him, but he still had this fire coming out of his voice, like daggers stabbing.

"You just care so much, don't you?" Stephen yelled.

"Goodbye Stephen." You went ran out the door and slammed it behind you. You went to your car and started driving to your place. But you couldn't hold it in anymore. You were crying, sobbing. You didn't want things to end this way, but you can't bear to see Stephen this way or the way hes treating you.

A year pass and you're going on in your normal life. That's when Stephen makes a portal to where you are. You are scared and shocked. But also confused to what he's wearing. He apologizes everything to you and the way he treated you. You accept it but didn't feel ready to get back with him. Stephen accepts and leaves you be, taking on protecting the world as new priority. He's just at hurt as you a year ago with breaking up with you. But he knows he must move on.

In 2018 the blip happens and you disappear, so does Stephen Strange. 5 years later you come back and you try to get your life back to normal. Stephen tried to do the same but couldn't stop thinking of you still.

Later on, he meets a teenage girl named America Chavez that can travel through the multiverse.

With different versions of Stephen around the multiverse, he didn't realize the possiblity of still being with you.

"How's Y/N?" America asked.

"They're good. Happy. They're happy." Shaking, Stephen says, now thinking about you.

"I can imagine. They're happy with you."

"Uh, well we're not together. We used to be. We broke up 8 years ago. I disappeared due to the snap and it felt like we ended things on short notice."

"What? You both are not together in this universe?"

He was confused about what America meant by that. "Together? In this universe?"

"What do you mean this universe?"

"Every Stephen I know there with Y/N. You both are together. Married. It always felt to me no matter what universe it was, you always were meant to be together. And nothing could stop that."

He had to stop and think for a moment. Every universe he's with you?

"I'm with Y/N in every universe?

"Don't you love Y/N?"

"I do. But it was 8 years ago, almost a decade. They most likely moved on..."

"You'll never know if you don't tell them. America interrupts. "In a million ways it can go where you are together, why not risk one chance. Tell them how you feel."

He thought about it. Being with you is the only thing that can help him be at ease. Making amends with you is something he doesn't want to stop doing.

He practices of how he's going to talk to you, what he will say. Walking back and forth, he's trying to think of the right words.

"Don't overthink it. Just talk naturally, say how you really feel."

"I don't know if I can. What if they already moved on?"

"You'll never know unless you tell them. Come on, I know you can do this."

Stephen takes America's word into his mind and try to come up what to say.

He spent the next few days going over of how he's going to approach you and he knew exactly what to say.

Until he thought he did until he saw you. He greteted you and you did the same. He was a stuttering mess with you

"Y/N-Y/N. I would like to tell-tell you something."

"Ok, what is it?"

This was it, he could tell you.

"I was thinking we could get coffee sometimes." He cursed himself in his head.

Why couldn't he say what he really wants to, to you?

"Uh sure, what day? Because this whole week and the next I'm kinda really busy."

"Tuesday?"

"Yeah that could work, oh wait I have a meeting"

"Friday then?"

"Friday, but could it be at 6pm because I have-"

"I love you Y/N."

You were stopped talking and were taken back.

"What?"

Oh no. This could be the perfect opportunity to tell her everything or mess up, or both.

"I tried to stop thinking about you, but I can't. And it's okay you don't feel the same way. I love you. I love you in every universe."

Stephen took a deep breath and waited for you to say something, anything. He knew he would mess it up and make it awkward quick.

That's when you kissed him. You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was taken back, but soon melted into the kiss and he wrapped his arms around you back.

"I can't, couldn't stop thinking about you either. I love you too Stephen." A tear goes down your cheek.

This made him happy, America was right all along. It looks like you guys were meant to be after all.

Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to heart, reblog, share, comment on what you think, and follow for more works! You can also find me on Wattpad and my other socials in my bio. Feedback is always much appreciated!

Have a great day/night or wherever you live around the world!

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daydreamtofiction · 2 years ago

Text

Malicious Compliance // Surgeon Strange x Reader

Masterlist | Request a Fic

Summary: After a brief meeting with the world renowned neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange, he plans to make you his latest conquest. He’s only interested in one thing, but that’s okay, because so are you. (female reader)

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, pre-sorcerer Strange (arrogant, cocky). Smut: no strings attached, dominance & praise, oral sex (receiving), light choking, unprotected sex (sort of?). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Just a quick lil oneshot for you all. I literally thought of this today and the whole thing poured out of me in one sitting lmao. I like it though, hope you guys do too!

His eyes are glaciers. Cold, hard, yet always moving. They flit towards the window, sunlight turning them the crispest blue, then back down to the notebook on the table in front of him. They warm slightly when he looks over to Doctor Palmer, roll languidly whenever Doctor West speaks. But in the end, they always seem to settle back on you.

He’s as hubristic as you’d expected; leant back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, taking up as much space as his body will allow. He corrects a colleague when they call him Stephen. It’s Doctor Strange, he says, voice so deep and rich it’s almost tangible.

He watches as you press your finger to the inner corner of your eye, trying to rub away the tired itch beginning to take root there. You wonder how offended he’d be if he knew you fell asleep reading one of his published papers last night, how you woke up in your hotel room this morning with your cheek pressed to page seventeen of The Strange Palmer Method. It would make his blood boil, you think, to know his work had been used as a pillow. You resist the urge to tell him.

Coffee burns the roof of your mouth. You wince and place the cup back down on the boardroom table, sift through the pile of papers in front of you as the room waits for you to speak again.

“Honey,” says Doctor Strange.

“I’m sorry?” you reply.

He points to your mouth. “It’ll help with that burn.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh I didn’t- It was just a little warmer than I expected. Thanks, though.”

The corner of his mouth curls and he turns to look down the length of the table, the flecks of silver at his temple catching in the light.

You clear your throat as you find the document you were looking for. “So, pending approval from the ABMS, we would like to roll out training for the Strange Palmer Method in all of our hospitals.”

“What about my new technique for stent placement?” asks Doctor West.

“Oh please, Nic,” Strange scoffs. “We’re talking about actual revolutionary surgical procedures here.”

Doctor West’s back straightens, you open your mouth to speak but he gets there first.

“Excuse me, my stent technique could drastically cut down the amount of time a patient’s brain is open on the table! Do you even realise-”

“Mhm, why don’t you go win some awards and make national news, then maybe we can talk.”

Doctor Palmer’s head falls into her hands as the other surgeons groan and shift uncomfortably in their seats. You’ve met your fair share of asshole surgeons in this job; travelling up and down the country stroking egos and exalting god complexes. But this man sitting across from you is, without a doubt, the victor of them all.

“The stent technique is very interesting,” you say, easing the tension in the room. “But we would need to see the results of a study or trial of some kind before taking it any further.”

“Very diplomatic of you,” says Strange.

“Not diplomatic. I just know a promising procedure when I see it.”

“Hm. Are you a doctor?”

Your gaze turns to a glare. “I am.”

“Where do you practice?”

“I don’t anymore. My job is to keep other doctors at the top of their game. Hence why I’m here right now with all of you.”

He’s almost smirking, head cocked slightly, twiddling a pen between his fingers. It’s fitting, you think, to see a surgeon take such pleasure in getting under people’s skin.

You hate that you find him attractive. That you’ve managed to fall victim to a charm buried so deep beneath layers of pure arrogance that you have to dig to find it. If he wasn’t so beautiful on the outside, you’re almost certain you wouldn’t bother fighting to find something redeemable within. But the way your body reacts to him; the warmth, the buzzing deep in your belly, it must be there.

The meeting finishes and you remain at the table, straightening the wad of papers in front of you and slotting them back into your binder as everyone filters out of the room. When you’re alone, you stand and walk to the large window, taking a moment to gaze out at the view. Your eyes skim New York City, admiring the blend of old and new; small stone buildings wedged between tall skyscrapers, the late afternoon sun glinting across metal and glass, pockets of green peppered amongst brick and mortar. You wish you got to come here more often.

You pick up your briefcase and drape your jacket over your arm as you make your way out of the boardroom. The corridor is bright and quiet, but the bustling of the hospital is a low hum. You close the door behind you and begin to walk, unfazed by the sight of a figure leaning against the wall up ahead.

His arms are folded over his broad chest, dark blue scrubs doing little for his tall, robust frame. His legs are crossed at the ankles as he rests his weight back against the wall, head stooped slightly, but his eyes are on you.

“Doctor Strange,” you say with a polite nod as you continue past him.

He smiles, allows you to pass, but you feel him move behind you.

“You don’t really think Doctor West’s procedure holds any merit?” he asks, catching up to walk at your side.

“I do.” You furrow your brow. “You don’t think there’s merit in improving the efficiency of existing surgeries?”

He shrugs. “Just not all that exciting when you compare it to what I’m doing.”

“You mean what you and Doctor Palmer are doing…”

There’s a chuckle deep in his throat, like he enjoys the back and forth, watching his opponents fight for their lives while to him it’s just a sparring match. He quickens his pace to slip in front of you, turning to face you and forcing you to halt in the middle of the corridor.

“Be honest,” he says. “You’re impressed.”

“Of course we’re impressed. Why else would the board have sent me here?”

“No I mean you, specifically.”

You glare up at him, hiding your amusement with an eye roll. “Yes, Doctor,” you say slowly, your words empty and biting. “I am very impressed.”

His cupid’s bow deepens as his lips curve into a self satisfied smile, lines forming in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He knows you find him infuriating, but it only seems to encourage him. There’s a moment of silence, long enough for his gaze to trail the length of you, just once.

“You know, I’d love to talk more with you about it,” he says, looking down at his obviously expensive watch. “Maybe over dinner. Have you eaten?”

You draw in a deep breath through your nose, letting it out in a sigh as you begin to speak. “I don’t need your superficial attempts to woo me, Doctor.” You reach into your briefcase and pull out a pen and a business card, scrawling on the back of it and handing it to him. “This is where I’m staying. Come by around eight.”

You’re certain he’s going to protest, pretend he actually wants to go to dinner, talk, that he was ever interested in anything that didn’t involve the removal of your clothes. You wait in suspense as his eyes flit down to the card in his hand, then back up to your face.

“I prefer to fuck in my own bed,” he says bluntly.

A wave crashes in your stomach, rushing down into your core, the sensation so strong and unexpected that your knees almost buckle. This isn’t the first time one of your work trips has ended in you going home with a surgeon, but the way this one doesn’t try to feign the ‘nice guy’, doesn’t pretend to want anything more from you than your body, that’s new.

“Unless I’m on vacation, of course,” he adds with a cocky smile.

“Of course…”

He flips the card over and plucks the pen from your hand. You watch as he scribbles on it and hands it back to you.

“So this is where I’ll be tonight,” he says. “You said eight works for you?”

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, unsure if you’ve ever met anyone as imperious as this. You slip the card into your pocket and move to walk past him, stopping as your shoulders brush and looking up at him.

“I hope your dick is as inflated as your ego.”

He smirks to himself, remaining quiet as you continue to walk away.

Your skirt is riding up your backside. You reach back to yank it down for the hundredth time before pressing the buzzer on the wall of the apartment building. The setting sun is just a glow beneath the horizon but the streets are still busy, the air warm with a pleasant breeze. You lean back to stare up at the building, the mirrored windows stretching so high you can’t see an end to them. You wonder which one is his.

There’s a scratching sound on the intercom, followed by a deep voice. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” you say, glancing over your shoulders as if you’re on some kind of secret mission, scared of being seen.

He doesn’t speak again, instead there’s a quick buzz followed by the click of the heavy front door. You let yourself inside, heels clacking against the glossy marble floor as you hurry towards the elevators. When the doors slide open, you pull out your business card, punch in the floor number he’d scrawled in the bottom corner. It begins to ascend, making your already swirling stomach turn.

You pull down the back of your skirt again as you step out into the hall, peering down the length of it in search of his apartment. The door is tall and wide, dark timber and a heavy metallic handle. You knock but your knuckles barely make a sound, the dense wood swallowing the echo.

Still, he comes. You regard him quietly as you step inside, the snug sweater and tailored jeans, a pair of sneakers making you feel entirely overdressed. He’s already grinning; a smug, confident smile that reignites the ire in your chest. You ignore him and walk further in, eyes wide in awe at the vast, industrial space.

You walk over to the window that stretches the length of the apartment, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, framing a perfect snapshot of the city.

“Now I understand why you make the women come to you,” you say.

“Hm?”

“This place. It’s impressive.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “That’s the point, right? You like to impress. To show off.”

He laughs quietly and makes his way to the kitchen area, opening the extensive liquor cabinet. “You want something to drink?”

“I have rules,” you say abruptly, turning around to face him from across the echoey room.

He straightens. “Go on…”

“Nothing that happens here can be used for any type of professional leverage, good or bad, by either of us.”

“Of course-”

“This isn’t a date. I don’t spend the night, I don’t keep in touch, I don’t call when I’m back in town so we can do this again. This is just tonight. And it’s just sex. Understood?”

“Understood.” He returns to the cabinet and takes out a bottle. “So, about that drink…”

You’re already gone, wandering off through a door at the rear of the apartment in search of the bedroom.

You find it. It’s a dark, cave-like space, large curtains draped across another huge window, only the faintest glow of the sunset fighting through the fabric. It’s clinical, just as you’d expect from a surgeon; sleek furniture void of any clutter or knick knacks, exposed brick walls with the occasional piece of art - no photographs. There’s a full length mirror, a small couch, and a bed so large you could sink into it and disappear. You wonder just how many women have delved beneath those sheets before you.

He appears in the doorway, looking you up and down. “You’re eager, little one,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, watching as he closes the door behind him and approaches you. You reach up to touch him, to kiss him, but instead he takes your wrists in his hands and lowers them back to your sides.

“Mm, not yet.”

You scoff in dispute, eyes following him as he strolls across the room and switches on the wall sconces, illuminating the area above the bed in a dim, warm light.

“Look,” you say. “If you’re just going to mess with me then-”

“Well actually, after you left the hospital this afternoon, I got called to consult on a patient and ended up having to stay late. I just got home around fifteen minutes before you knocked on my door. So if you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower first. Is that alright with you?” he finishes sarcastically.

You settle down, composing yourself and relaxing your shoulders. “Of course.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

He pushes open a door to the right and you catch a glimpse of the luxurious, marbled master bathroom as he steps inside. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone again. You stand there for a moment, listening to him whistling to himself, his belt buckle unfastening and hitting the floor. Water bursts from the shower, the sound like soft static, and you immediately rush over to the mirror.

You examine yourself carefully; fix your hair, press your nose to your skin and clothes, shift your underwear so it sits smoothly and undetectable beneath your skirt. Then you sit down at the foot of the bed, knee bouncing impatiently. You change your mind shortly after, moving to the small couch opposite the bed instead.

Ten minutes or so pass, but it feels like an eternity. You picture him drawing it out on purpose, working the lather into his skin one section at a time, scrubbing at his hair for much longer than necessary, just to make you sweat. The water shuts off and you listen to him singing to himself, the hum of his voice through the door. When the door finally opens, steam escapes into the bedroom, the rich smell of citrus and cedar filling the air as he walks out, still humming quietly.

You glance over at him, mouth falling open slightly to find him completely naked, your gaze falling immediately to the pronounced length hanging from his body as he pads across the room. You look away quickly, rolling your eyes and huffing with indignation. Of course he’s naked, you think, he likes to spar, and you’ve willingly stepped into the ring.

Droplets sit on his shoulders and roll down his torso as he moves around the bed. He climbs on and lays down right in the middle, hands resting behind his head, propped up slightly on the headboard. His hair is still damp, half-coiffed, the grey at his temples darker than it was before. His body is solid, the mystery beneath the scrubs now revealed to you in all its glory. His arms are thick as they flex either side of his head, divots of muscle creating shadows across his torso, cock resting proudly on his thigh as he parts his legs in wait. He’s exquisite, and you can’t help but bask in the sight.

“So,” he says casually. “Are you just going to stay over there looking at me? Or are you going to come and sit on my face?”

You glare at him, unamused.

“What?” he shrugs gently. “You’re the one that said this was strictly sex. Forgive me for abiding by your rules.”

“There’s a word for that, you know,” you reply. “Malicious compliance.”

“Mm, is it really malicious if I’m offering to eat you out?”

“Depends how good you are at it.”

“Come here and find out.” There’s no humour in his tone, but it’s still playful, like he’s goading you.

You stand up and take a step towards the bed.

“Clothes,” he demands.

You stop, pressing your lips together tightly. His eyes never leave you, remaining locked on yours as you kick off your shoes and untuck your top from the waistband of your skirt.

“They should study you,” you say.

“Study me?”

“Yeah.” You lift your top over your head and throw it to the floor, reaching down to unzip your skirt. “Look into how one singular person could possibly be such an ass.”

“Clearly there’s a part of you that likes it, y’know, since you’re here… taking your clothes off for me.”

“What can I say? I’m partial to a surgeon. Think it’s the hands.”

The skirt pools at your feet and you step out of it, extending your arms as if to say ‘ta da’. He smiles.

No one has ever looked at you like this. So intense, like he’s studying every inch; relishing in every freckle and blemish, every curve and crease, mapping out the places he plans to touch, taste, explore.

You continue towards him but he raises his palm, halting you again. “You haven’t finished,” he says.

You glance down at yourself, then back up to him, letting out a grumbling sigh as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. It pops open, the release of pressure on your skin as soothing as a deep breath. His gaze darkens as you slide the straps off your shoulders, watching your nipples harden as you reveal your bare breasts to him.

“These too?” you ask, hooking your thumbs into the waistline of your underwear.

“Mhm.”

You take them off as gracefully as you can, shimmying them over your hips and thighs and kicking them away. His cock is hardening, swelling and rising towards his stomach. Your mouth twitches with a triumphant smile, but you suppress it as you climb onto the bed, crawling up to meet him.

You lean down and press your lips to his, feeling your skin prick, arousal kindling in your core. His mouth is smart, but it’s also divine. The feeling intensifies, spreading through your belly and pounding between your legs as you sweep your tongue into his open mouth, feel his restraint wavering as your hot breaths mingle. You let your chest press against his, the feeling of skin on skin making you burn with need.

You bring a hand up to his face, he brings his to your throat, bracketing it gently and peeling his mouth from yours.

“I didn’t tell you to kiss me,” he says quietly. “I told you to sit on my face.”

You pull back a little more, making eye contact, breathless as a million comebacks shutter through your mind. But in the end you say nothing, letting out a soft huff and slowly shifting your body up the bed.

You hold the top of the extravagant headboard with both hands and swing one leg over him, straddling his shoulders as his fingers reach up behind you to the small of your back. His touch is electric, lips searing as they plant a kiss on your inner thigh. A soft whimper escapes you in a breath, as though anticipation is its own foreplay.

He wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth. Your grip tightens on the headboard, fingernails digging into the soft, cushiony fabric as he parts his lips against your centre, sucking softly on your already throbbing clit. Your head falls back when his tongue drags up the length of your slit, moulding itself to every pucker and groove, lapping you up like he adores you, and you wonder how many women have fallen for him in these moments.

You groan quietly, closing your eyes as you focus on the flicks and strokes of his tongue, the sucking and swirling, the hums deep in his throat and he devours you. Your clit is sensitive, making you shudder, the pleasure so intense you can barely stand it. Your body raises up instinctively, but he tightens his hold on you, spitting on your clit and returning his mouth to the place that both aches and sings, somehow at the same time.

You gasp in response, eyelids fluttering as you swear under your breath. He releases one of your thighs and you glance over your shoulder to see his hand wrapping around his cock. He begins to stroke it forcefully, working himself to the rhythm of his mouth, and you almost fall to pieces.

“Oh my god,” you moan, slumping forward and pressing your forehead to the headboard.

Your thighs clamp around his head, but it only spurs him on, making him bury his face deeper, and you can’t remember the last time he came up for air.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

The nerves in your clit are screaming, dancing on the precipice between pain and pleasure. He continues to lap at your centre, pushing you to the edge until you’re clinging on for dear life. Pressure swells in your core, flooding you with a tingling heat that softens your bones and turns you to liquid. Until finally you’re there, falling, melting.

He growls as your body begins to shake, working his tongue over you one last time before releasing you from his grasp. You collapse next to him, sliding down the pillows until you’re lying at his side. You’re breathless, chest rising and falling heavily as you stare up at the ceiling.

He rolls onto his side to face you. “You’re quiet when you come,” he says, placing a kiss into the crook of your neck, another at the dip of your collarbone.

“I’ve spent the past two years practically living in hotel rooms,” you reply. “I’ve learned to be inconspicuous.”

“Hm.” He props himself up on his forearm and leans over you, his other hand trailing softly down the side of your body. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

Before you can reply, he’s kissing you. His mouth is slick, it tastes of you. Your body is spent, limbs heavy, yet still you find it responding to his touch. He shifts further onto you, spreading your legs with his hands and settling himself between them. You can feel his cock nudging your centre as he rocks his hips, sliding along the soaking wet mess he left there and brushing his head over your clit. It’s sensitive, raw, makes you gasp. But he swallows the sound with a heady kiss.

He’s big. Thick. Hard. Maybe that’s where he stores his arrogance. He continues to tease you, soaking himself in the mix of spit and slick as he wraps his hands around your neck, kisses you so deeply you can feel him drawing a moan from your throat.

He pulls away and looks down at you for a moment. “Condom?” he asks casually.

You’re on the pill. Have been since you were seventeen. But still, you know you should say yes. Yesterday, this man was a stranger; a face you only knew from TV and the medical articles you’d read.

“No.” You shake your head and reach down, gripping his cock and directing it into you.

He chuckles, the sound deep and low. “What a good girl.”

You sigh as he teases at your entrance, pushing the head of his cock in and out but never breaking all the way through.

“Were you thinking about this today in the meeting?” he taunts softly.

You groan and buck your hips, desperate for him to take you.

He eases back slightly and tuts. “I saw you squirming in your seat. How hot and flustered you got when I looked at you. Tell me how much you wanted this.”

“What I wanted,” you begin quietly. “Was to wring your neck.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Really…”

“Really.”

He squeezes his fingers gently around your throat and you exhale softly. The desire is almost painful, your core throbbing, pussy aching.

“Funny how things work out,” he says.

You let out a stifled moan as he sinks into you, filling you so completely you’re certain you can’t take it.

“That’s it,” he mutters as he looks down, watching his cock disappear all the way to the hilt.

You whimper and tighten around him. He sucks the air in through his teeth, returning his gaze to your eyes with a mischievous smile.

“I’m gonna need you to not do that,” he says. “You’ll have me finishing in seconds.”

“Are you telling me the great Doctor Stephen Strange lacks self discipline?” You contract your walls again, this time on purpose.

He bows, forehead resting on your chest, and growls deep in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, without warning, he draws his hips back and buries himself in you again. You gasp, fingers digging into the blades of his shoulders as he repeats his thrusts, building to a firm, steady rhythm.

A small cry escapes you; a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. He hums in response, keeping you pinned to the bed with his hands around your neck as he snaps his hips, punishing you from the inside out.

“Wrap those legs around my back,” he demands.

You do as you’re told, locking your ankles and gasping as he sinks further, the head of his cock kissing the deepest parts of you and sending jolts of pure electricity through your stomach.

“You’re going to break me,” you whisper.

“Not this time. Maybe later,” he replies, still so arrogant it makes you want to reach up and slap him.

But your hands are stuck to his back, nails digging into the smooth, taut flesh. Another unfamiliar sound falls from your lips, somewhere between a grunt and a hum. He likes it, you can tell in the way he closes his eyes to compose himself.

“Jesus,” he hisses.

His movements begin to stutter and he rests his forehead against yours. You feel his cock throbbing, your pussy growing wetter until it’s dripping. He lets out a long, satisfied groan and begins to slow down, every rock of his hips like the promise of another climax.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper desperately. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but still he obliges; continuing to stroke into you as you squirm beneath him.

“Oh god,” you groan. “Harder. I need- harder.”

He grunts, screwing his eyes shut tightly, and begins pounding his cock into you with such force you can feel your body shifting up the mattress. You know he already came, you know how sensitive he must be. But somehow, knowing that makes this all the more delicious.

The electricity builds again, every thrust like a lightning strike through your core. Your legs begin to shake and you finally let go, giving in to the current and letting it course through you. Your orgasm is intense, sharp and tingly, making you shudder, body stiffening until it passes.

He slows to a stop, resting his full weight on top of you. You welcome the pressure, like a weighted blanket; warm and grounding, soothing the ache beginning to settle in your limbs.

After a few moments, he slides out of you carefully, rolling over to lie at your side. “You want that drink now?” he asks.

Hair sticks to your forehead with sweat, you brush it back, sucking in deep breaths as you stare up at the ceiling. “No, I’m good.”

Silence envelops you, neither one of you speaking again until your hearts stop thumping.

“So… I guess this means you’re going to approve the training for my method,” he says.

You turn your head, glaring at him in stunned silence.

“I’m kidding,” he says with a smile, greatly amusing himself.

“God, surgeons are assholes,” you mutter.

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