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eunwhore · 1 year ago

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˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐄𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐌.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. In which you and Megumi get a special special lesson for Satoru Gojo himself after he learns about your relationship.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. Satoru Gojo being a menace to society; Suggestive by the end; Megumi and the reader are of age, of course !

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 1120 words

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Reader x Fushiguro Megumi (ft. Gojo)

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @dearmymoon @lacopinedechan - 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

"Alright, kids."

You don't know why, but feeling stuck in a classroom alone with Satoru Gojo and your boyfriend doesn't sound right, especially when Satoru Gojo himself looks like he's about to crack another one of his dumb jokes.

Not to mention that your mentor called this session a "special special lesson" to put you in this situation. An honorable mention to the double special that didn't reassure you at all. Megumi, the one stuck here with you, seems to be a lot calmer than you are, probably because he's used to the white-haired man's antics.

"Before I start this special special lesson with you." the way he wiggled his eyebrows while phrasing a double special again sent shivers down your spine.

"I want to say that I'm very happy for you too !" Oh no. Those are the first two words that come to your mind when you hear his exalted appreciations. He knows. It was probably dumb to think you could hide your relationship with the six-eyes's holder, but it was a nice try, right ?

"What do you mean ?" You turn to your newly claimed boyfriend after he speaks for the first time since this comedy started. "Oh, you know what I mean, Megumi." You were petrified, frightened, or any word that resonates with fear itself.

"But we're not here to talk about your beautiful love, even if I would adore to gossip with you guys." Your professor sends a disgusting wink to your boyfriend, and you didn't waste a minute to launch a killer look at him to make it clear that you DON'T want him to spill the beans about what's going on between the two of you. Fortunately, he catches that look and is quick to reassure you with a glance that only you could read.

However, your attention quickly returns to the class sorcerer about to continue his lecture. "I was given a very important mission by Shoko, as you two are still young and probably unaware of how this world works, and we don't want any unwanted babies running around in this school."

You could die just by hearing what your senior just said, not to mention the fact that his right hand reveals a whiteboard covered in notes that you shouldn't dare to read right now. A disgusted look appears on your face as you quickly hide your reddened cheeks in your hands, looking straight at your desk.

"The most important thing you need to know about any sexual activities is that you must protect yourselves!" You can only guess that your boyfriend must be in the same state as you, the only difference is probably that he manages to hide his emotions better than you. "Not only because it prevents pregnancy but it's also important for preventing any nasty diseases you can get."

It's crazy to realize it, but your professor has never been this serious before. He gives his lesson like a professional in that matter, and it's disgusting to think of him in that way. As you finally gather the courage to look up again, you're not surprised to find your boyfriend completely emotionless, staring at the board, perhaps with a bit too much conviction. Is he really listening to these instructions?

"One of the effective protections is this little thing." After digging into the left pocket of his uniform, Mr. Satoru pulls a square package out of it, and you already know the next few minutes will be extremely long. Now you understand why he entered the classroom with a banana in his hand earlier today.

You let your body fall onto your bed as soon as you enter the room. A class shouldn't be so tiring; the subject itself drained the energy out of you, and it's even worse when it's Satoru Gojo teaching you how to put a condom on a banana for a whole 30 minutes.

Megumi, on the other hand, seems to be a lot more relaxed, or it's just his natural unbothered look that misleads you. He's quick to join you, lying next to your figure, and by muscle memory, your body relocates against his, your face hiding in the crook of his neck. You are still very embarrassed by everything that you've been through this afternoon. "I want to disappear."

You earn a cute giggle from your lover that resonates into his chest, his arms wrap around your inviting body. "He just wanted to help..." He answers, defending his senior.

"Well, there were more discreet ways to help us." You sigh as you roll on your back, staring at your ceiling before the black-haired boy appears in your vision, and obviously, you can't help but search for his eyes.

"Discreet doesn't exist in Satoru Gojo's vocabulary." he jokes, even if he's definitely speaking the truth. His hand slides on your cheeks while his eyes take a moment to admire the features of your face. Wanting to get rid of this worried expression, he leans to place a soft kiss on your forehead. "At least we'll be prepared when the day comes." he adds. You hate but love seeing this look on his face; it's one you've never seen before, and you can't help but be taken aback a little.

"Are you flirting with me, Megumi Fushiguro ?" You raise one of your eyebrows when you feel his hands wander on your body. It would be a lie to say you've never gotten handsy before, but now it feels different after receiving all of this new information. It looks like your lover has been influenced to explore this part of a relationship. You both had no experience in that matter, but if there was one person you would want to explore with, it would be with him and him only.

"Maybe I am." he whispers, and you feel shivers running down your spine; he really has that effect on you. "Of course, only if you feel comfortable with it." There he is, your sweetheart, the one who always puts your well-being before anything else.

"Well... I got to say that... I'm kinda curious about... you know..." You are still a little shy about it, as your cheeks return to a shade of red, your boyfriend smiles softly at your demeanor, finding you oh so adorable when you're shy like this. "Let's explore each other at your rhythm, hmm ?" He offers before pressing a second kiss to your kiss, then a third one and a fourth one, going from your cheek to the base of your neck. "Good thing Satoru gave me a box of condoms."

"He gave you WHAT ?"

#megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu gojo #fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro x reader

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tacticiankate · 6 months ago

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Re-upload cause I goofed up the formatting - portraits of my exalted party for the game I'm in :)

In order:

Lustrous Emerald Demise, aka Emerald - my character, a changing moon Lunar (spirit shape is a peacock) and dreaming pearl courtesan martial artist.

Lawman Perseverance, aka Percy - a dawn caste Solar, martial arts supernal, and righteous devil martial artist. He and Emerald are Solar/Lunar mates and had extensive history before the game started, and they make me insane.

Daiyu Nine-Lives - a changing moon Lunar (spirit shape is a cat) and combat cat.

Yán of the Mountain - an eclipse caste Solar, occult supernal, and sorcerer.

Undu Notions - a twilight caste Solar and investigation supernal.

Fable on the Far Horizon, aka Fable - a zenith caste Solar and athletics supernal.

#my art #oc #character #exalted #exalted rpg #friends oc #lustrous emerald demise #ttrpg

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stxrvel · 6 months ago

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back to shibuya

snippets of your life with kento after you both miraculously survived shibuya. pairing: nanami x f!reader content: angst and somehow comfort? a/n: second nanami fic and i can't just drop the angst! but i think this one's more calmer than the last one. hope you guys enjoy! loved seeing your comments <3

jjk main masterlist | main masterlist

Nanami woke up in the middle of the night, exalted, with a cold sweat running down his body and a terrible disastrous feeling that something horrible had happened. His head did not rest as his arms moved to the left side of the bed… empty. Cold.

For a moment he felt an invisible force steal the breath from his lungs, an uncontainable pressure planted itself in his chest and his erratic breathing only worsened.

In the midst of his shock, he took his gaze around the room.

Dark. Too dark.

Nanami Kento kept having nightmares ever since the Shibuya incident. Waking up after each one was worse when you weren't next to him in bed and it was too hard for him, in the midst of the panic that was gnawing at him, to remember that he had gone to bed the night before with you next to him. Fear clouded his mind and his judgment and without a second thought he found himself crawling out of bed, across the room, the whimpers of your name piercing the silence of the huge house.

“y/n! love…” he almost pleaded.

His feet carried him into the hallway, and from the hallway to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the guest room and from that room to the living room, from the living room to the kitchen where he could barely register the glow of the light on and your figure sprawled on the island chair, sound asleep.

Nanami stood on his feet in the kitchen doorway, his fingers twitching in involuntary spasms. Trying to catch his breath, memories came back to him bit by bit.

That day, when Kento had come in from a heavy day at the office, because he had left the sorcerer world as soon as it was all over in Shibuya, and you were waiting for him at home with one of his favorite dishes. The warmth of the lovingly made food in his mouth, the savoring of your lips on his when he dragged you to bed and didn't let you escape, even though you wanted to watch the new episode of the series you watched together. The tranquility and peace it brought him to have your body curled up with his, between the sheets, with no other care in the world but to have you by his side.

Perhaps he had even sensed when you moved in his arms to get out of bed and from that moment on he had surely begun his nightmare.

Nanami moved towards your figure, his crystallized eyes roaming over your body, his steps light and cautious as if he feared that at any moment you would disappear right in front of his eyes.

With all the good memories also came the bad ones, and his hands clutched at his sides at the spasm of pain that shot through his chest. He would probably never forget the heartbreaking way your lips said his name, repeatedly asking for forgiveness, thinking you would not make it. Inside Shoko's infirmary, holding his hand when by sheer luck he had escaped Mahito's hands with Itadori. But you didn't need to know that, not at that moment, not when Nanami felt you were slipping out of his grip when he had you right in front of him.

Your closed eyes in that awkward posture also brought back those bad memories for him.

“y/n…” Kento stepped closer, reaching up with trembling hands to grab you by the shoulders. He barely brushed against you and his hands contracted. His breathing hadn't calmed at any point, he had simply been fighting back tears. You were there at that moment, fine, alive, he could see the way your body moved slightly as you took in air and expelled it.

You were fine.

So why couldn't he calm down?

Kento watched your profile, deciding not to disturb your sleep, especially since he knew how much it would worry you to see him with that broken expression, with those tears he wasn't being able to hold back.

He dropped down in front of you, his knees touching the cold wood of the floor. His brow furrowed, expression contracted, lips pursed trying not to make even the slightest noise. Tears running down his cheeks, his hands holding his face because he couldn't believe that he still had so much stress and so much fear when too much time had already passed, when Shoko had already saved you, when your recovery was already over. When you were already so well that you had agreed to leave the country to live with him anywhere else in the world.

He didn't know why he was still so full of that anguish when everything was fine. That sometimes made him think that maybe it wasn't true; that he had been imagining that whole journey, that really neither of you had made it past that day and now… and now…

Kento's emotions were too strong and no matter how hard he tried to contain them, it was physically impossible.

When you woke up, you barely registered the yellow light and the view of the kitchen and living room when you heard it. Him.

Your back and neck ached from how fast you moved, frantically looking everywhere until you stood up and your feet bumped into something.

Kento. Huddled in front of you as if he wanted to make himself tiny enough to disappear. His little sobs pierced your soul. Hands covering his face and moving through his hair in an almost desperate gesture.

“kento…” you murmured, trying to get his attention, but that only made his sobs increase. “kento, it's okay. You're okay. We're okay.”

You knelt down in front of him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling something inside him unwind and his arms move extremely quickly to wrap around you just the same. You didn't know what had been going through his head, but from the way he whimpered into the crook of your neck, bringing tears to your own eyes, you knew it was nothing good.

Like every time he had a nightmare, Kento could only go back to Shibuya. It was something that would probably take him years to heal.

“i love you, kento. we're fine.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x you #kento nanami #nanami #kento #kento x y/n #kento x you #kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami

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daydreamtofiction · 1 year ago

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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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