#dbf!strange

You knew you were out of your league, but you’d pushed yourself. It was like Alexis always said: ‘When life gives you an opportunity you either do it or do it scared.’

You were definitely scared, but you were still doing it.

You paused in front of the doorway with the shining silver numbers 616. From inside you could hear music playing… soft rock, you thought. You looked down and smoothed over your skirt and the silky material of your shirt, picking off a fuzz from your cardigan. Clutching your purse at your side you quickly reached out and knocked on the door. 

When the door opened your breath caught as you came face to face with Doctor Strange. You couldn’t help the soft smile that spread on your lips as he looked down at you, your heart dipping into your stomach with all your nerves. He gestured you inside without saying a word and you quickly stepped through the door, leaving the rest of the world and your inhibitions in the hallway.

Strange immediately took your bag and hung it next to the door. You were shocked but pleasantly surprised when he stooped down to wrap his arms around you. You let out a little sigh and reciprocated the action, throwing your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He murmurs softly, pulling back to look at you as he asks, “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good.” You answer honestly, “The grand opening was a success and the shop is beautiful.”

He smiles at you softly, “I’m glad to hear it.” He nods toward the apartment and says, “C’mon in. I’ve got snacks and wine… fire is on. You must be cold, you haven’t got a real coat on.”

You smile sheepishly and pull your cardigan around you tighter, “I just forgot it… I was in a rush.”

“Just couldn’t wait to see me…” He teases with a wink before taking your hand and leading you further into the apartment.

So sleek. So modern. It was fifty shades of grey in a room… minus the whips and cuffs. At least that you could see so far. Doctor Strange sat you down on the couch and gestured to the plate of baked burrata and plenty of crispy little toast pieces around it. He reached for some bottle of red or another and uncorked it with ease, grabbing one of the glasses and giving a solid pour. He passed it to you and just the brush of his fingers against yours sent sparks up your arms. He watched as you took a small sip, his brow furrowing.

You looked around the living room and were shocked by the almost sterile nature of the place he supposedly lived. The hotel room you’d convened in once had more personality than this place. It was nice, it just wasn’t for you. It was cold and impersonal… a reflection of what the rest of the world saw from Doctor Stephen Strange.

“You’re nervous.” He notes, his voice startling you from your silent observation

You give an awkward smile and ask, “Is it that obvious?”

“A bit.” He says, pouring himself some wine as well, “You know you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to? And you’re free to leave—“

“No.” You object quickly, “It’s not… it’s not that, Doctor Strange. I do want to be here, I just…”

“Your dad, right?” He interjects. You blink at him dumbly and he explains, “You’re all he’s talked about for the last month. I assumed you two must have made up. I was curious to see whether or not you’d show up tonight.”

The call had come late one night while you and Alexis were busy getting your individual work rooms set up. You were standing on a very wobbly step ladder, painting stars in silver and gold across the deep blue ceiling you had painted earlier in the day. When your phone went off you jumped out of your skin. Even more odd, it was your father’s old ringtone. You hadn’t heard that song come from your speaker in ages… since the last time you’d seen him, actually.

You’d slowly but surely made your way down the step ladder, carefully setting your plate of paint on the desk you’d built earlier in the day. Wiping your hands on the old tee you had specially for painting purposes you snatched up your phone and watched it ring for a moment longer before swiping to answer the call.

“Hi… dad.”

“Hey, Hon.” There was a bit of an awkward pause before he asked, “Are you back home?”

You gave a displeased grunt and accused, “You’ve talked to mom.”

He let out a heavy sigh but agreed, “I did. Of course I did. She thought I’d like to know my daughter was moving across the country for the second time in her life.” Another tense pause before, “It’s a shame I have to hear it from her.”

“Dad…” You groaned quietly, reaching up to wipe your forehead with the back of your arm, “Why would I speak to you after the last time we talked? Be real, please.”

“I know, I know.” He rushes quickly, “I know how I spoke to you was… unfair.”

“You told me I was the largest disappointment you’ve ever faced.” You bit out, “You told me that doing what I love was a waste of my life.” Your voice cracked as you said, “It was the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Hon, I know—“

“I was a good girl. All I ever did was try to please you. I graduated top of my class, I only kept friends you liked, I only dated boys with your approval, I… I did everything for you!” You’d practically yelled into the phone. “I was everything you asked me to be for eighteen years, and when I finally found out what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be, you decided I wasn’t enough for you! Do you know how bad that hurt?”

“I do.” He says immediately, “I know how awful I made you feel, trust me. Your mom gave me an earful for it—“

“Good!”

“But, I’ve thought about it a lot. And you’re right. What I said to you was awful. I was a terrible father in that moment.” He took a moment to think before asking, “If you’re not ready to see me, I understand. However, if you’re up for it, I’d like to take you to dinner and apologize. We can talk it out.”

You were breathing heavily by that point, your chest heaving as angry tears collected in your waterline. You were tired, you were emotionally exhausted, but more than that you were shell-shocked. You hadn’t expected to be having that conversation that night.

“I need time to think about it, Dad.” You finally murmured, “Let me think about it.”

There was the smallest bit of hope in his tone when he’d agreed, “Alright. I’m going to make us reservation for next Friday night… I’ll send you the details. I’ll be happy to see you if you show up. If not, I’ll give you time and you can reach back out when you’re ready. Alright?”

You’d nodded to the empty room and agreed, “That’s fair.”

“All right.” He’d said softly over the other side of the line. If you weren’t mistaken you heard your voice crack as he said, “I love you, Hon. I’ll… I’ll see you when I see you.”

And because you were a good girl, and somewhere deep down still his little girl you echoed, “I love you, Dad.” Before quickly hanging up the phone. 

You immediately collapsed in a heap on your office floor. Your legs pulled up to your chest and your face buried in between. Heavy sobs wracked your body and before you knew it you were wrapped in Lexi’s arms. She pulled you into a hug and shushed you gently, stroking her hand through your greasy hair. You hadn’t showered in days due to all the renovations you were performing at the shop. You weren’t sure how long you spent there sobbing on the floor like a child, but it felt good. You’d only cried over him once after that last time you saw him. Maybe you were making up for lost time.

When you finally pulled your head from between Lexi’s shoulder, she tsked and reached up on your desk to grab a roll of paper towels, tearing off a sheet and cooing, “Oh, you poor thing.” She wiped at your nose and dried your tears carefully, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just came to check on you when you raised your voice. I’m glad I stayed though. It was your Daddy you were talking to, wasn’t it? Evil man—“

“H-he wants to s-s-see me.” You’d choked out, “He said he w-wants to make things right.” A low whine came from your throat as you rubbed the heels of your hands against your eyes, “He apologized— he admitted he was wrong. I figured after three years nothing was gonna’ change.”

She smiled at you softly and said optimistically, “Well maybe he needed those three years to change. Maybe he needed time to see what he was missing without you in his life, Sugar.”

“I’m… I’m still so scared to see him.” You said meekly

You’d always been a bit of a scaredy cat. As a little girl and even now, the unknown was horrifying to you. Some days the anxiety of the unknown petrified you. You figured that’s why your art had led you to tattooing of all professions. There was a process, a set of rules, and a careful understanding between the client and the professional. 

“What have I always told you about being scared, hm?” Alexis prompted, “When we get an opportunity to do it, we can either do it, or…”

“Do it scared.” You’d said softly, “But either way, we do it.”

“That’s right.” She agreed, “Maybe this time you just have to do it scared.”

Scared you were as you walked into that old steakhouse still running strong after all these years. Your father’s favorite place hadn’t changed even if he had. The chandeliers still shined with that same soft, warm lighting. The white tablecloths were pristine, and the waitstaff dressed in their same attire. You doubted that the menu had changed at all either. In a way, that was comforting. This place you were familiar with. There were bits and pieces of your history scattered throughout. The table you, your father, and your mother had sat around for your thirteenth birthday. The booth where you and your first boyfriend had been placed for your six-month anniversary dinner. The table for two in the back where you had once sat with Doctor Stephen Strange after your father had had to cancel your dinner date last minute…

Doctor Strange. Yet another problem you had to solve, and the solution would largely depend on how tonight went. If you and your father managed to fix things you couldn’t contact Strange… could you? The last time you’d seen Strange it hadn’t seemed as though he and your father were on speaking terms, but all the same, they had still been good friends. If you and your father patched things up it would be wrong. It would be a complete betrayal of the trust you’d earn back, and you didn’t want that. No, you couldn’t do this whole thing over again. Doctor Strange’s number would remain untouched just as it had for the last six months.

When you gave the hostess your father’s last name she guided you over to the booth where your father already sat. He stood and you watched as his eyes took you in from head to toe. You’d chosen to wear a cute little pantsuit that you’d bought a while back. It was a wine-red color with three pieces; The pants, the blazer, and the slightly cropped strapless shirt underneath. You’d left it unbuttoned for a bit more of a casual look, but your hair was pulled back neatly. Gold jewelry adorned your neck and several different piercings in your ears compliments of Alexis. Your black heels barely peeked out beneath the red fabric, but it was clear from your added height that they were present. The pantsuit had a two-fold purpose: It looked sleek and professional, and also covered a majority of your tattoos… besides the one that now sat front and center on your chest, which was a bitch to hide with anything but a turtle neck.

Your father outstretched his arms and received you warmly with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured, “You look lovely… all grown up.”

You gave him a tight smile and nodded, “Not quite all grown up, but I think I’ve gotten through the worst of it.”

“Here’s to hoping.” He chuckled, nodding to the bottle of wine already on the table, “Would you like some?”

“What is it?”

“A pinot grigio… good to pair with shellfish and I remember how much you loved their lobster.”

You nod, “I do. And sure, I’ll have a little.” The two of you remind silent as he poured the wine, and he watched carefully as you took a small sip, tilting your head back and forth as you tasted it and declared, “A bit dry for me, but still very nice. I prefer red, but I know that’s probably a bit much for seafood.”

“Probably so, but I’d be happy to get you a glass of red if that’s what you wanted.”

“Oh, no! Really, it’s fine.” You argue, picking up your menu, “Thank you, though.”

You can feel his eyes on you for a while before he asks, “How has the shop been? You opened on Monday.”

“We did.” You agree with a small smile, “And it was wonderful. The grand opening was amazing… I met so many of the locals that follow me on Instagram and I’m booked solid for the next year with more and more emails coming in. Alexis— my business partner— and I both. And the shop is just beautiful. We funded it all on our own and it looks exactly how we dreamed it would.” You gush, smile growing wider by the second before you reel yourself in, giving an awkward clearing of your throat and a sheepish smile, “So… very good.”

Your dad quirks a little half-smile of his own and announces, “I’d like to meet Alexis sometime if she’d be up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Of course. If she’s a good friend of yours, I’d like to meet her. Maybe I can even come look at the shop someday?” He suggests hesitantly, a bit of hope in his voice

Well, damn. He was really trying.

You nod, “You could come by someday while I’m on break… or before we open. We don’t close until ten and I know my old man has a strict eight o’ clock curfew.”

“I do.” He chuckles, “But I could break it if there’s no other time.” His eyes fall to the tattoo piece on your chest and you feel your cheeks heat with a bit of embarrassment. There was nothing wrong with the tattoo. It was on the smaller side, and even if the placement was a bit risqué it had been placed there for symmetry’s sake. A little honey bee surrounded by little sprigs of forget-me-nots. “That one is new.” He notes nonchalantly

You reach up and press a hand over it, “Three months healed.”

“It’s…” He searches for a minute to find a word that will suit both you and him before settling on, “Pretty.”

“I thought so.” You agree

“Is it your work?”

“I drew it, yes.”

“Very pretty.” He repeats

You take in a small breath and recall, “Last time you saw my tattoos you said I looked like a ‘cheap whore.’”

Your father winces but acknowledges, “I did.” You two stare at one another before he admits, “It was wrong of me. I… I might have felt it at the time, but I see now it was a large overreaction. And even if I don’t like it— them— it’s on your body, not mine. If tattoos make you happy… I suppose they’re all right by me.”

Your eyes get a bit misty as you ask, “You mean it?”

“Of course I do.” His face softens as he reaches out to take your hands, “I… I was horrible to you that night, Y/N. I’ve thought about it every day since, but I was just so embarrassed and too proud to call you. I should have, I know I should have. You have no idea how many times I almost did—“

“I was so hurt by what you said.” You interrupt, the tears crowding your lashline further, “I worked so long for so hard to make you proud of me. That’s all I ever wanted, Dad.” You say, voice wavering, “I know I’m not what you wanted me to be. I know you were expecting a doctor or a lawyer or some sort of scientist… but I need you to know I don’t regret it. I don’t regret what I chose to do or who I am because of it. I… I wanted so long for you to love me for who I was and not who you wanted me to be.” You give a sort of shrug and look away as the first tear rolls down your cheek, “What I’m trying to say is… if you’re hoping that we’ll reconcile and I’ll be different because of it, that won’t happen. I love who I am. I don’t need you to love me.”

“Oh, Hon…” Your dad sighs. He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye as he says, “Of course I love you. Doctor or lawyer or… body artist. I just wanted the best for you. I wanted to see you succeed and I was scared to death that this career wouldn’t help you with that because there are people— people like me, I guess— who look down on it. But I see now how well you’ve done for yourself. And I know my fear doesn’t excuse my prejudice, but I’m working on it. I’m trying, okay? I’m trying for you.” He runs his thumb under your eye gently and scolds, “Stop your crying, you’ll ruin your lovely makeup.”

You give a choked little giggle and nod, “I know, I know.” You place your hand over his and murmur, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

He shakes his head and denies, “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for, Honey. The fault is all mine. And I promise I’ll do better moving forward if you’ll let me. I don’t think I’ll survive another year without seeing you.”

You nod, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the dinner after that was… easy. A massive weight that had been a constant for nearly five years was lifted from your chest. It was as if you’d gotten so used to living with it there that you’d learned to breathe against it, and now, there was absolutely nothing holding you back. You smiled, you laughed, you joked… you’d missed your dad so much. You’d missed his safety and understanding. This was the last piece missing in your grand plan of moving back to New York. Well… almost the last piece. But now that you and your father were back on good terms, that little number hidden away in your cell phone was the least of your worries.

Until later that week. Until you’d been out to dinner with your father again and from across the room you’d seen Doctor Strange sitting alone at a table, indulging in food and drink, blissfully unaware you were sitting across the room from him. 

Your eyes must have wandered one too many times, and eventually, your father caught on. When he turned to see who you’d been looking at he’d looked back to you with a sigh, a displeased grimace on his face.

“You and Doctor Strange used to be good friends.” You had prompted

“Yes.” He’d agreed simply

You’d allowed heavy silence to fill the space for a moment before pressing, “Are you not anymore?”

“No.” Your father says cooly, not bothering to elaborate any further than a simple, “We’re not.”

“Oh.” You give a slight frown at the red you can see grace the tips of your father’s ears. Embarrassment? Anger? “That’s… a shame. He was always nice to me.”

“Yeah, well…” Your Dad mumbles more to himself than to you, “he was nice to a lot of the women in my life, apparently.”

As you part your lips to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, the waiter returns asking what the two of you would like for dessert. Your father orders quickly before sending him away with a smile and turning back to ask, “So, tell me about the shop. Where is it?”

And that was where the topic of Doctor Strange was left for the night, a lingering feeling of dread pulling at the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N?” Stephen’s voice seemed to snap you out of your trance. You turned to look at him with bleary eyes and he prompted, “You and your dad?”

“We’re good. We’re better than we’ve been in a long time.” You pause, pulling at the sleeves of your cardigan nervously, “I um… I know you already know this and you have no reason to go talking about it, but you can’t mention a thing about me. Just… be as disinterested in me as you have been the six years I’ve been gone, yeah? Don’t raise a bit of suspicion.”

“Of course.” He agrees, his eyes falling to your waist where you wrap your cardigan around yourself tighter, the action causing you to inadvertently push your chest up.

“And I can only meet you here.” You looked a bit embarrassed as you admit, “Honestly, my place isn’t much to look at compared to this.” You wave around his penthouse, “Plus, Alexis is there at the same time I am since we work identical hours, and my dad knows where I am now. He’s been visiting quite often… I wouldn’t want him to wander over while you and I were— Doctor Strange…” You laugh, reaching out and grabbing his chin to tilt his head up, forcing him to meet your eyes, “Should I assume you were staring at my tattoo rather than my chest?”

Stephen smirks and shrugs, “Same thing.”

You tut and disagree, “No. I’ve had plenty of guys apologize because I thought I caught them staring at my tits and they were only looking at the art.”

“Both are a work of art if you ask me.”

You throw your head back laughing and shove his shoulder, “Dickhead…”

Stephen reaches out and wraps his arm around your waist, scooting closer as he notes, “It’s a new piece. Wasn’t there the last time I saw you.”

“No… a little moving present from me to me.” You explain, “My dad even said he liked it!”

Stephen grimaces, “Well now let’s hope he was admiring the actual art.”

“Ew.” You scoff

“Well don’t talk about your dad right now…” He chuckles

“Or you could just not be a pervert.”

Stephen tsks, “I thought that’s what you came here for, Sweetheart.” Hold holds up both hands and leans back, scooting to the far end of the couch and saying, “My bad, I’ll just sit here and behave like a gentleman.”

You pout and crawl over to him, reaching out and grabbing his hands, “I was only teasing, Doctor.”

“Oh no…” He fakes a pout of his own, “I’ll sit here and behave myself.”

You take in a deep breath and before you can talk yourself out of it you’re straddling his lap. You intertwine your hands behind his neck and settle your weight against his lap, batting your lashes up at him and enticing, “I don’t want you to behave.” You lean forward so your forehead rests against his own and encourage, “I want you to be bad.”

Stephen lets out a slow sigh, his hands coming up to grab your hips underneath your cardigan, eyes traveling down to see your skirt bunched up due to the spread of your legs around his waist. His thumbs trace against your sides and you give a little shiver at the soft contact, hips rocking forward ever so slightly.

“You say stop and everything stops.” Stephen says clearly, “You give me a hard limit and I won’t push it.” He looks you in the eye as he asks, “Do you have any hard limits I should know about?”

He’s shocked to hear you give a very unembarrassed explanation, “I don’t like taking it from the back and I don’t take it up ass.” Stephen gives a hearty laugh, but nods his understanding, practically beaming at you. You consider a moment longer before saying, “My safe word is ‘ink.’” Your cheeks hear as you admit, “There are still some things I’m not good at. I’m just— I’ve tried nearly everything, but Jameson was… he just wasn’t patient enough.”

Stephen nods and reassures, “I’ll be patient with you if you need it, Baby. Don’t worry about that.”

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

He gives a little smirk and answers, “I’ve done it all and I’d do it all again. Consider me open to anything. I’ll use the same safe word if need be.”

“Okay.” You nod, your nose brushing against his own, “I um… I just don’t want to disappoint—“

You’re cut off as Stephen’s lips crash into your own. You give a little whimper, shifting your hands up into his hair, pulling at the soft locks. You feel as Stephen smiles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. You lean into him, your chest pressed against your own and part your lips for him. His tongue strokes against your own, exploratory and gentle. You shift your hips forward, feeling the denim of his jeans against your barely covered sex.

He trails his lips down your neck, your head lulling back, every touch of his lips against your skin sending a thrill down your spine and straight to your cunt. Stephen gave a groan as you rocked your hips forward, attempting to get closer to him. Every little shift you gave placed friction against his cock that he couldn’t deny was incredibly pleasurable. Every time your nails scratched along his scalp he had to hold back a different sound of pleasure.

He tilted his face up slightly to watch your reaction as he moved his hands upward, one cupping your breast just to test your response. Your breath caught, but you reached up and placed your hand over his own, guiding his other hand to do the same, back arching as he groped at you. You removed your own hands to pull off your cardigan, tossing it to the floor behind you and returning to taste his lips once more.

You didn’t know how long Stephen spent grabbing and groping at you, but you weren’t going to object. His touch was divine. He seemed to know each and every place to let his hands linger, the right way to grab you, the right way to hold you as you kissed one another breathless. One hand on the back of your neck, the other pulling at the belt loops of your skirt. 

Once he pulled you in just the right way, shifting your body ever so slightly so your clit managed to catch just right on the bulge in his pants. You let out a gasp, grabbing a fistful of his tee in your hands and rocking your hips to get a second taste at the sensation. Stephen laid his head back into the couch cushions and smiled up at you, both hands moving back to your hips, two fingers of each slipping through your belt loops, helping you rock back and forth against his cock.

“That’s it, Sweetheart.” He purrs, eyes falling to catch a glimpse of the lacy black panties you wore beneath your skirt, “Found a good spot, hm?” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment. Stephen chuckles, the noise reverberating around the large room, your staccato breathing the only sound to accompany it. His hands travel back to your ass where he takes a generous feel, a pleased hum leaving his lips, “You look nice up there, Baby.” He gives your ass a small slap and you gasp at the sensation, “You ever rode someone? Think you’d be real damn good at it.”

“A few times.” You answer honestly and grumble, “I hated it. He didn’t do shit.” 

Stephen laughs, “Well, that’s no way to treat a lady.” He promises, “I won’t make you do all the work. And if you hate it still, we’ll switch it up. How’s that sound?”

“Good…” You moan as your clit throbs, “Feels— sounds good, I mean.”

He tuts and reaches up, taking your face in his hands and teasing, “Already losing it, Sweetheart? Barely getting started.” You were like putty in his hands as Stephen rolled you off his lap and to the side, one of your legs still straddled over his lap leaving you wide open. “That’s it, Baby. Spread those legs for me—wider— yes, good girl.”

He kept eye contact as his hand slithered up your leg before traveling back down. His touch sent goose bumps across the soft skin, your tummy turning in anticipation. He began to work his way back up your leg, eyes falling, stopping to admire the ink on your skin. His fingers would trace the outlines of the different shapes as his eyes followed, curious as always. Snake, moth, sun, rays of light… and now he could see a new image that he hadn’t gotten to all those months ago. A hand outstretched, offering up a pomegranate to an unseen person, the juice running down the person’s hand, droplets dripping from their fingertips. 

You watched as he traced. He traced and teased and admired you until you were on the brink of madness. But it was good. It was nice to be admired rather than simply used. Taking your time rather than being placed straight on someone’s cock and given little stimulation before they passed out. With Doctor Strange, every touch was a different sort of stimulation. Maddening, beautiful torture.

Finally— finally— his hand cupped your core, his middle finger pressing between your lips making you squirm. He rubbed over the spot gently, feeling the wetness that had built at your core. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a low sigh, though honestly, it sounded more akin to a growl than anything else. 

“Such a pretty pussy, Sweetheart.” You keen as he sinks his middle finger into your heat. It’s quick and smooth with how aroused you are, the action bringing nothing but bliss to mind. He pumps his finger in and out a few times before you feel a bit of a stretch, his ring finger joining the mix as he settles his thumb over your clit. You whimper, throwing your head back and letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “Good girl, just like that.” He coos, using his free hand to grab you around the neck and pull you back in for a long, slow, and— on your part— uncoordinated kiss.

Stephen smiles as you grind upward, fucking yourself on his fingers, pretty eyes fluttering open and closed as you murmur things like, ‘So good, Doctor,’ and ‘Need more,’ or ‘Please…’ over and over again. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whining and moaning at the feeling of his fingers curling inside you. Your gasp echos through his head as he adds his index finger, stretching you to what he was certain was his sweet little girl’s limit. The wet sounds produced by his fingers plunging in and out of your hole make his cock throb with need.

“Pussy takes my fingers so well, Baby.” He says, “Gonna’ take my cock the same way, yeah? Right after you cum all over my hand gonna put you on my dick, let you ride it until you cum like that too.”

“Yes. Yes, Doctor.” You whine, your lips trailing up and down his neck, every once in a while pausing to nibble at the skin making Strange sigh, “I want your cock now, please. I’m ready. M’so wet.” Your words leave in short little pants, legs trembling from the amount of stimulation to your g-spot. His thumb against your clit has you seeing stars with every thrust of his fingers.

“Uh-uh.” He grumbles, “Cum around my fingers first. I know you’re close. These pretty little legs are shaking.” He grins as you let out a moan, wrapping one arm around his neck while your other balls up his shirt in your fist. “Come on…” He pistons his fingers in and out of your hole, muttering lowly, “Come for me. Been waiting all this time to see how you fall apart. Imagined it for years.” 

Stephen had heard about it before... seen it in a porno or two actually. Some women’s orgasms were so intense that it was a full-body experience. He’d just never seen it in person. He watched in amazement as your whole body seized in his hold as you came, legs shaking so hard he wondered if you’d be able to stand after the fact. High-pitched moans fell from your lips as you clawed at his shoulders and chest. He didn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but graciously took his thumb from your clit, certain a moment longer would send you hurtling toward overstimulation. Your hips didn’t stop their grinding either, merely slowing down. 

Stephen whispered to you, praising you for summing for him, how pretty the sight of your body shaking for him was, how he couldn’t wait to watch you fall apart like that on top of him. “That’s it… shit. That’s a good fucking girl.” He growls in your ear, “Cum so pretty for me.” He kisses the top of your head, slowing the push and pull of his fingers inside you, “Got you nice and stretched out too. You still want my cock, Sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Doctor.” You murmur hazily, “Wanna’ feel you inside me now.”

Stephen chuckles, carefully prying you from his body to work on stripping himself down. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he sits up and pulls off his shirt, a long, toned torso revealed as a result. You reach out and trace the little freckles and moles dotting his skin as he reaches down to unzip his way-too-tight jeans. You stopped him, bringing your own hand down to do the honors. 

Stephen throws his arms behind his head as he watches your fingers pop open the button of his fly. You unzip the jeans carefully, catching Stephen off guard when you promptly wiggle your hand inside, groping his balls through the fabric of his boxers. He lets out a moan, head thrown back giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss and lick up the column of his throat as you continue to massage his balls.

Suddenly entirely impatient Stephen grabs at the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, lifting his hips and shedding both in one go. You reach to strip off your tank top as Stephen pulls at your skirt roughly, forcing it over your hips and around your knees as you clumsily kneel on the couch, hands wandering from your own body back to his, desperate to keep a hold on him, scared he’ll disappear if you look away for even a minute. You rip your bra over your head as Stephen makes a grab for you, pulling you over so you’re back to straddling his lap, one knee on either side of his legs, panties still pushed to the side, neither of you feeling patient enough to remove them at this point.

Stephen grabs your face and crushes his lips against yours, the slow, experimental kisses from earlier gone, replaced by a need and longing fostered for nearly a decade. His hands are in your hair, yours roaming across his stomach, chest, and shoulders. You’re both breathless, moaning into one another’s mouths as you reach down, taking his cock in hand. You don’t even give yourself time to take a look at his cock before you’re sinking down on it, and shit that man had a big dick. You slammed your hips down over him, not caring about the consequences, you’d been prepped well enough. 

Stephen lets out a groan. One hand wraps around your throat as the other comes down over the globe of your ass cheek while he demands, “Ride me, Sweetheart. Use my cock for a bit before I turn this pretty pussy into a cock sleeve.”

You moan, throwing your head back as you begin to move your hips up and down. Doctor Strange pulls you flush against his chest, your face landing against the back of the couch as Strange’s hands both move to grope at your ass, his hands working to help you move on his impressive length. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with both of your moans and groans. 

“Feels so fucking good.” He bites out, lips trailing across your shoulder and down your arm as far as he can reach. “Pretty body feels so good.” His hands travel from your ass up to your shoulders and back down, “Doing such a good job, don’t know what the fuck that asshole from Georgia was so impatient for. You feel fucking perfect. You’re doing so goddamn good for me, Baby. Just keep bouncing on my cock like that.”

You moan at the praises, pussy clenching around his cock, hands finding their way back into his hair where you pull, lips finding their way to his ear where you attempt to leave little nibbles and kisses only to end up leaving more breathy mews and little gasps of pleasure. Every little noise you made sent shivers up Stephen’s spine, his cock twitching, chest swelling with pride knowing how good you felt. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the steady pounding of your pussy, the sharp friction against your clit from the subtle bump and grind motion while you bounce along his cock. You’ve just cum not more than ten minutes ago but you already feel the fresh tingle of a quickly approaching orgasm.

“S’big, Doctor.” You mumble, hardly coherent, “Cock’s so big. I-it feels so good.” 

“Yeah, Baby?”

“Mhm.” You manage to squeak out, “Feels exactly how I dreamed it would. O-oh, God…”

Stephen smirks, his strong arms suddenly bringing your bouncing to a halt. He brings his hands up and grabs your arms, pulling them behind your back and using one of his own to hook through at your elbows, effectively clipping your wings. You try to start your movement again, but the doctor just hold you there, hovering with only half his cock buried inside you.

Looking up at you he asks, “Is this how it looked in your dreams, Sweetheart? What did it look like when I fucked you in your dreams all those years ago?”

You wiggle your hips a bit, heat creeping up your neck and into your ears as you admit, “I-I would think about us in my bedroom. I’d think about seducing you and you… you being my first.” Your walls squeeze around him as you say, “I always thought you’d be gentle with me then.”

He raises a brow, “Do you want me to be gentle with you now?”

“God no.” You breathe out shakily

He searches your eyes for a moment before a wicked smile curves his lips and he agrees, “Good.” Before fucking up into you, his balls slapping against your ass as your legs shake.

“Oh my God!” You cry out, “Stephen, fuck!”

You fall forward, keeping your ass raised as Stephen pushes his hips upward, his hands under your thighs to aid in keeping you up while he fucks upward into you. Your moans are all he can hear as he plunges in and out of your heat, your wet, warm walls wrapped tight around him. He reaches up and grabs the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you back so he can look at your face.

“Told you I was gonna’ use you like a cock sleeve. Just letting me use you how I want.” He fake pouts at you whimper, pussy clenching around him hard, “Oh, you like that? Like being used by me?”

“Y-yes.” You whimper, eyes fluttering shut, “It’s j-just so good. You’re s-so much older and stronger and— I just want to make you happy, Doctor.”

His free hand cracks down over your ass and he demands, “Look at me while I fuck you, Sweet Girl.” He cranes his neck upward placing a gentle kiss on your lips that did not match the way he was pounding into you or the filth he was spewing. Stephen watched your eyes roll back in your head before you snapped them forward, trying to keep your eyes on him as he’d asked. “There you go.” He murmurs, running one hand up your tummy to your chest, pinching at your nipples and smiling at the way it caused you to shake.

He ducked his head, kissing down and across your chest, latching his lips around the opposite nipple and sucking gently, slowing the thrust of his hips. His head catches just right on the spongey place inside you, finding that same spot his fingers had found earlier. You cry out, tears filling your eyes as he begins his short, staccato thrusts in and out, his own chest heaving.

“Doctor, p-please. I’m g-gonna—“ You choke on your words, legs starting to shake making it nearly impossible to hold up your weight.

“Me too, Sweetheart.” He mumbles, “Gonna cum right after you. Want you to kneel and let me paint your pretty tits.”

“Yes, yes sir.” You whimper, fingers pulling at the dark locks of hair in your hands, “Whatever you want.”

“That’s right.” He smiles into your neck, “And I want you to cum for me. Cum now.”

And with a few more thrusts, you do. You tremble on top of him, head thrown back, chest pushed out, and a cry of ecstasy leaving your lips. Stephen mutters praise, smiling as you look back down at him with glassy eyes, kiss flushed lips parted as you breathe raggedly. Stephen gives your ass a gentle squeeze and requests, “Get on your knees for me, Baby.”

You do, lifting yourself off his cock with a little whine, the emptiness hitting you and stealing your breath away. But you get on your knees between his legs and take his cock in hand. You rest your cheek against his knee, looking up at him, feeling more satisfied than ever before. You stroke his shaft in time with your unsteady breathing, watching his reactions as you do. Your other hand traces the subtle muscles that line his abdomen and chest, counting all those little freckles and moles. Perhaps they were his equivalent of your tattoos. 

Strange gives a soft groan, his head falling back against the couch cushions as he compliments, “Perfect, Sweetheart. Just like that. Milk my cock.”

You smile, biting into your lower lip at the sight of his hips shifting. You run your nails lightly down his chest, across his abdomen, and lower to his balls. You massage them gently once more, willing him to cum for you. Stephen can feel you practically purring between his legs and when he looks down your eyes are trained on his throbbing, twitching cock in your little hand.

“I want you to cum.” You say, lifting your eyes to look at him through dark lashes, “Show me how well I’ve done for you, Doctor.”

Stephen sighs, hands gripping at the leather of the couch as he cums. Ropes of cum shoot out from his head, the first few catching on your chin as the rest coat your chest. You give a sweet little giggle, further slowing your hand, watching as the last bit of his release drips down over your knuckles. You lean forward and lick away his release and come up, suckling gently on his head, causing a gasp of shock to leave his lips. 

You pull off with a pleased hum and whisper, “Tastes good, Doctor.” He gives a chuckle, hips bucking as you lap your tongue around his head one final time. You place a kiss against his inner thigh and confess, “I want to do this again.”

Stephen leans down, taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly before pulling back to say, “I think we can arrange that, Sweetheart.”

You smile as he kisses you again,  deciding whatever the fuck had happened between Doctor Strange and your father in the past was in the past. And you had a plenty of orgasms in your future.

You couldn't speak to Doctor Strange alone. Not as like... as a rule or anything. Your dad loved the man. Best friends since Strange took up residency under him over a decade ago now. But as in physically, you couldn't talk to him like a normal person. You got all tongue-tied and sweaty and had a really, really hard time not falling into the chasm that were those beautiful eyes. He was just… so fucking gorgeous. A head full of dark hair, bright eyes, full lips, broad shoulders, strong-looking arms, towering over you…

You’d had a little school-girl crush on the man ever since you’d moved to New York to live with your dad. You were promptly introduced to Strange at sixteen years old, all awkward and hormonal. And at the time it was mortally embarrassing and you were a little grossed out with yourself— the three years it’d been since then had done little to quell the embarrassment, but you didn’t feel quite so gross. There was no shame in finding a hot man hot.

But even worse than just being hot, he was hot and cocky. With the brains to back it up. And you could swear every time he spoke to you, he just loved watching you get all tongue-tied. He'd quirk a little half smile as you sputtered and struggled to form an articulate sentence, eventually offering a response to his own question on your behalf. Maybe he wouldn't notice you? 

"Y/N?" Came that beautiful deep baritone you heard late at night with you hand between–

Ugh.

You looked up and tried to force a soft smile on your face, though it probably came off more as a grimace. He immediately flashed you that beautiful smile and you were grateful you were sitting, or your knees certainly would have gone weak. He was still in his scrubs. Oh, God. He just looked so dreamy and authoritative and sexy. There was no way scrubs should fit any man that well. It looked like if he flexed too hard the shirt would rip straight off his body.

Oh, that was so going in the spank bank.

"Hello, Doctor Strange." You murmur, toying with the hem of your skirt

"What are you doing here?" He asks curiously

"Oh, well... Dad and I are going to dinner tonight. He was supposed to get off at–"

"Five." Strange finishes for you, "That was before he got in a kid that shoved a dime so far up his nose, they nearly sent him to me instead." Stephen realized very quickly when your face fell, "He didn't tell you?"

You give a weak laugh, "I guess he forgot about me..." You cringe when you realize how sad and desperate the joke sounds, "I just mean– he's forgetful, you know? Not that he… yeah.”

Stephen nods and agrees, "Forgot my birthday ten years running... until last year."

Your face flushed a shade darker as you recalled the dinner your dad had taken Stephen to to celebrate... after you'd reminded him that morning that it was Strange's birthday. You'd been invited. You, your father, Strange, and the woman your father had been talking to at the time— now his girlfriend. His girlfriend that he spent all his time with. She was sweet enough, gorgeous, worked at the hospital with him, but man… she really took a lot of his time.

It was no secret to Stephen that you were lonely. Your parents were separated, your dad up here and your mom in Atlanta. Your friends were... few and far between, your so-called 'boyfriend' was a dick from everything your dad had told him— and Stephen had been told quite a lot. But still better company than none, he supposed. Stephen would offer his own services as company for the night if it weren’t… such an odd thing to do.

If he trusted himself with you.

You were nothing but trouble for the Doctor. Too young, too related to his best friend, too naive. You had the power to singlehandedly disrupt everything that he’d worked so hard for. You, who was just a kid not so long ago. But well… time had certainly won that battle. There was no doubt you had grown into a beautiful young woman. Shy and underconfident perhaps, but very attractive all the same. And yeah, such an observation was left better in his own mind— and it had been. He would never admit to another soul the things he’d started thinking about you in the last year or so. But oh… 

He’d been thinking.

And what he thought about when it came to you wasn’t kosher, to say the least. Most of his thoughts of you came late at night in bed with his hand tugging at his cock, or in the shower the same way. The way you blushed and stuttered and squirmed. And he probably should have felt bad… he knew such a reaction was likely due to discomfort and anxiety, but you just looked so pretty like that. Like you did now.

"In that case..." You sigh, grabbing your purse and pushing up from the chair, "guess I'll be calling a cab."

"Well, um..." Stephen clears his throat, "I could drive you somewhere? Back home? Your boyfriends' house... damn, what's his name?"

A few more minutes with you. A few more minutes to find the perfect instance to play back in his mind over and over when he got home and stepped in the shower.

Your face goes cherry red and you shuffle back and forth on your feet, "David? David and I... well, he broke up with me."

The Doctor snorts, "Why on earth–"

To redirect him from having to answer that question you accept, "But I'd love a ride home."

Stephen nods slowly, looking you up and down and noting your outfit. A short, flowy black skirt that was snug around your waist, a sweater low cut in the top, a pair of black boots, and an oversized denim jacket. Your hair was even done in soft waves, makeup natural but there. You looked so sweet.

How could he possibly let you be alone tonight?

"Sure, yeah, I could do that." He nods slowly, "Or uh, if you wanted... I'm sure you were excited for dinner. I could go home and change, and we could go wherever you had in mind?"

He told himself it was just a favor to your dad. No one wants their little girl alone on a Friday night. Who knows where you'd end up without someone to keep an eye on you? And who better than his best friend? Someone he… trusted… more than anyone.

Fuck. Stephen was a scumbag.

You were speechless.

Dinner? Alone? With Doctor Strange? At his invitation?

Stephen took your silence and wide-eyed stare as discomfort and immediately rushed out, "Only if you'd be comfortable, that is. I didn't mean–"

"Oh, no!" You exclaim, "I would love– like... that would be great... good... fine." You stutter out

Strange quirked a little smile, "We'll aim for great."

And that’s how you ended up sitting across from Doctor Strange at your dad’s favorite steak house in Manhattan, trying to pinch yourself awake from this dream, while also ignoring the fact that it was clearly real judging by the slick between your legs. When Strange said he was going to go in and change, you’d expected some khakis and a polo… not navy slacks and an olive-colored sweater that he just looked divine in. He knew how to dress. You were so used to seeing him in scrubs or jeans and a tee, this was delightful.

And he kept rolling the arms of his sweater up, his forearms bulging, biceps straining against the fabric. He’d fussed with his hair some while he was inside, coming back out and apologizing for it looking a mess. There was a single strand out of place. Right up front that kept falling over his forehead, causing him to continuously reach up and run his hand through his hair.

“So, how’s school going?” Stephen asks after the hostess leaves, noticing the way you nervously pull at the tablecloth

“Oh…” You give a little giggle and glance up at him through your lashes, “You know… I always feel so silly talking about school with people like you— dad too.”

Stephen placed his napkin in his lap and leaning forward a bit prods, “Why’s that, Sweetheart?”

Your brain went haywire. Sweetheart? He’d never called you that before. Never, ever. You surely would have remembered that. Maybe it was just a slip?

“Seriously?” You smile, “You and he are saving lives and finding new ways to do it… I’m just good with pens and pencils.” You consider a moment before admitting, “Not that I don’t think that’s not important. The arts are necessary too, just on a different level. And I’m proud of what I can do, but it feels ridiculous to talk about when— well, like I said, you go to work every day and save people. Makes you feel a bit insignificant, you know?” 

Stephen knew that a lot of that “feeling silly” probably came from your dad. To say he was displeased when you’d decided to pursue art as a career was… putting it mildly. Your dad was a good guy, but he was high-strung. He worried about you, your future, your finances… the sort of thing kids like him and Stephen get brought up worrying about and consequently never stopped worrying about. But it didn’t seem to get through to your dad that he’d done something right for his daughter to be so disconcerted with the same thing. You felt safe and secure because of him. You felt like you could support yourself and do something you loved at the same time. Stephen admired that.

“Well, it’s not.” Stephen reaffirms, “You’re right, it’s plenty important. Have you decided what you want to do with it yet?”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and Stephen desperately wanted to reach across the table and pull it out. You reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, fiddling with your earring. Stephen couldn’t help but note how the soft candlelight at the center of the table made you look so warm. He didn’t stop looking at you, not as you deliberated, not as the waiter came back and served you your water and Stephen his wine, not when he waved the waiter away murmuring that you needed some more time, and not as he continued to watch you deliberate.

“C’mon, Sweetheart.” Stephen encouraged, “It’s just me, you can tell.”

“You won’t tell dad?”

“I won’t tell your dad.”

“Promise?”

Doctor Strange rolled his eyes but smiled, reached across the table, and offered his pinky, “Pinky promise.”

You smiled shyly and reached over, twisting your pinky around his. Oh. Oh, his hands were big. You withheld a little whimper at the observation. Stephen nearly laughed at the difference between your hand and his own. Weren’t you just adorable? Such a sweet little thing…

You disjoined your pinky from Stephen’s, taking a quick sip of your water before murmuring, “I uh— I’ve been thinking body art.”

Stephen nearly choked on his wine, “Like… as in tattooing?” 

You nodded and shrunk back a bit, though there was a small smile on your lips from his reaction. Your dad would so not be down for this. There were a few things Stephen had learned about your dad over the course of their friendship, and one of those things were his preferences when it came to women. You wanna’ guess what one of his biggest turn-offs was?

That’s right, tattoos. 

Your dad thought they were trashy. Trashy and cheap. Many more derogatory terms had been used before, but Stephen wasn’t exactly in agreement. He didn’t see the big deal. It was just a little ink, and it was their body. What the hell should it matter? But Stephen could draw a pretty strong inference… if your dad didn’t like tattoos on women in general, he certainly wasn’t going to like the idea of you being the one to put them there. Or God forbid, get one yourself.

Stephen dabbed his mouth with his napkin and continued, “Is that it? Just a tattoo artist?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And first of all, it’s not just tattooing anymore. It’s body art, piercing, cosmetic tattooing—“

“Sounds like tattooing…” Stephen teases with a grin

“Yeah, well it is!” You giggle, “But it’s not… it’s a whole different process, okay? And I wanna learn it all.” You pick at your nails, “I just… I know starting off it’s not exactly lucrative, but in the long run, I think it’ll turn out alright. Who knows, I may end up somewhere crazy reputable? Or I could even open my own place. A-and I’d never be bored. And after some time I’ll get to a point where I only have to take the jobs and do the work that I really want to do. Creative freedom, free time, freelancing my other work still.” You shrug and glance back up at him nervously, “It just makes sense.”

Stephen takes a long sip from his glass before trying to gently dissuade, “It sounds perfect for you, it does. But is a tattoo shop going to hire someone who doesn’t have tattoos themselves?” 

Stephen thought he was going to pass out when you gave a little smirk and murmured, “Who says I don’t...”

You let out a laugh at the way Doctor Strange just sat there blinking at you. You smiled when you noticed his cheeks turning red… he never had been a fan of being wrong, but you’d managed to catch him off guard.

“W-well… what… when…” Stephen stuttered out, before succumbing to the inevitable, “where?”

“The first one I got the day I turned eighteen. It starts right about here…” You reach across your body and point at the very upper part of your ribcage, parallel to your chest, “and it wraps under here.” You trace your finger along the underside of your breast, which Stephen watches with great interest before realizing just how great his interest must appear and redirecting his attention to your face as you explain, “Olive branch, fine line, love it to death. The second is another fine line, got that as a present for making it through the first year of college, on my sternum… a sort of north star design I drew up as an accent for a larger work and really loved.” You could see the Doctor’s face growing redder and realized, “Oh, Doctor Strange, I’m sorry… I should have asked— I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

Doctor Strange shook his head, “No, no. You’re… it’s fine.” he gives a little laugh, “You’re just normally… much shier than this.”

You feel your own cheeks heat up, “I guess I just get excited talking about it, I never get to, you know? Dad would kill me if he knew…” You flit your eyes back up to Stephen, “And I would like to live a few more years of life.”

“Secret’s safe with me…” Stephen reassures, “Is it just those two?”

You force back a smile at his genuine interest, “One more… just got it a few weeks ago, after the breakup.” You snort, “Maybe not as cheap as a therapy session, but super fun.”

Stephen chuckles, “Alright, where and what?”

“Well, this one was just sort of silly and… and I just thought it’d be funny and cute.” You giggle, “It’s… it’s on my ass.” You watch as Strange forces back a smile, “And it says ‘bite me.’” 

Stephen couldn’t have held back his laugh if his life depended on it. Fucking perfect.

“That… that’s a good one. Sure he’d have loved to see it.” 

Stephen sure would.

You give a little huff and roll your eyes, slinking down in your chair and muttering, “Yeah, that was like… the whole issue.”

Oh?

Oh.

“Oh.”

You looked up to find Strange staring at you seriously. He sits up straighter in his seat and leans forward, studying your face intently. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you didn’t guess he found it, as his brow furrowed, lips turning down in a frown.

“Y/N… he didn’t… hurt you?” Stephen suggests quietly, “And I need you to be honest with me, Sweetheart. Tell me the whole truth.”

You swallow hard and look away, “I mean, he never… he’d stop when I asked him to, he just never asked in the first place.” You shift in your seat, “I just— it’s not like we never did anything— he just wanted to do a lot more and go a lot farther than I was willing to right now, and…” You shrug, your hands coming up to smooth over the tablecloth, “He gave me an ultimatum revolving around it at the start of the month and I refused, so he ditched me.” You give a shaky exhale, “And I know that’s for the best, really, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting any less, you know?”

“Sure, but for what it’s worth…” You startled as the Doctor’s hand came over one of your own fussing with the table cloth, “I’m really proud of you for doing what was best for you.”

You nod, looking down at Strange’s hand over your own. Though over your own implies that you could see your own beneath his, and you couldn’t, but it was there. He was touching you. 

Holy shit he was touching you!

“I-I uh…” You stutter, “Thank you, Doctor Strange. That’s nice to—“ A wave of panic washes over you, eyes going wide as you look up to him, “I uh… my dad doesn’t know that I— well, he knows I have… more so had— a boyfriend, obviously, but he doesn’t know that I…” You trail off

Your face was tilted downward, Stephen suspected to hide your blush though he could see it clear as day. Stephen knew what you were trying to say. Much like the tattoos, your father anticipated nothing but pure innocence from his little girl. The idea that she would engage in any sexual act, even at the age of nineteen, would be completely unacceptable. Though it sounded to Stephen that what you had engaged in was very minimal. He took his hand from yours gently and pulled his chair closer to the table.

“Again, secret’s safe with me, Y/N. You’re a legal adult and nothing you’ve told me you do is illegal or harmful to your health.” Stephen smiled when he saw the tension fall from your shoulders, “But just so we’re clear, if you are having sex or plan to any time soon you should be using protection and—“

“Doctor Strange!” Your eyes blow wide and you whip your head around to see if there’s anyone nearby

Stephen couldn’t help but laugh at the reaction, “Well, Sweetheart, if you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“I… can! I just— not with you!” You choke out, bringing your hands to your cheeks which have caught fire

Stephen chuckles and takes another sip from his glass, “Well, as long as you have someone to speak to about the subject.”

“My mom.” You agree, “She’s never been as strict as dad, you know?” Your brow furrows a bit, “I think… I think I’m going to talk to him about moving to Atlanta with mom for a few years.”

“Oh?”

“Well, we both know dad won’t let me start an internship at a tattoo shop while I live with him—“

“Wow, okay. You’re serious about that.”

You give a little huff, “Imagine that. I actually have brain cells and can think for myself.”

Strange gives you a stern look, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sorry…” You murmur, “Just sounds like him. But yes, I am serious. And it’d be easier to get into the scene in Atlanta or Athens… their state university is in Athens, big crowd. And maybe with mom I can start… actually living. Instead of straight to school and straight home.”

Strange’s brow tensed, “I mean, I knew he was sort of hard on you, but is he that strict?”

“Doctor Strange, it wasn’t far off from the truth when I said he’d kill me if he found out I had tattoos. He wouldn’t actually, of course, but I don’t put it past him to put me on the street. My dad is… my dad has done right by me. He has taken great care of me, provided for me beyond what he had to, given me the opportunity for a great education, I’m not blind to that. He loves me and he is so proud of me…” You hesitate and take in a deep breath before whispering, “As long as I’m doing exactly what he wants and pretending to be this perfect paradigm of a daughter. He is so controlling. I will never get anywhere if I stay here.”

The sentiment struck a little too close to home for Stephen.

“Speaking as his best friend, he’ll miss you if you go.” Stephen offers, “But speaking as one human to another, if you think that’s what’s best for you… it’s what you should do.” He shrugs, “I wouldn’t have gotten far without leaving home.”

“Where is home?” You ask, placing an elbow on the table and propping your chin on your hand

“Home is here now.” Stephen says, “Home was Iowa.”

“Did you… get along with your parents?”

“No.” He says flatly, “Not at all.”

You hesitate before trying, “May I ask why..?”

Stephen takes a deep breath in. How much is appropriate to share and not? How close can he let himself get? How much can he let you in?

“Dad was abusive. Mom was neglectful.” He states simply, “Just… wasn’t a good environment.”

You give a little nod, “I’m sorry— I know you probably hate to hear that, but I am.”

“That’s alright. Turned out okay, didn’t I?”

“Hm… from what I know.” You agree with a little bit of a teasing smile

“And it’s best for both of us if you don’t know the rest.” Stephen smiles back

You laugh and Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. What a pretty sound, what a pretty smile. A real smile, not that timid one you usually gave him. When the waiter came back to take your order, Stephen allowed it. He also noticed the way you kept glimpsing at his glass of wine from time to time. 

He smiled softly and offered, “Would you like a sip?”

“Hm?” You asked, drawing your eyes back to Stephen 

“My wine. You keep looking at it, would you like a sip?”

“Oh…” You laugh, “I’ve just never had it, I don’t drink. I know Dad and Christine like it— white at least.”

“Red is better.” Stephen says, taking the glass and holding it toward you carefully, “You wanna’ try?”

You reach across the table timidly before reminding Stephen, “I’m only nineteen.”

“I know. But a sip won’t hurt.”

You took the glass gently, feeling sparks against your skin as his fingers brushed your own. You brought the glass to your nose and gave it a sniff, tilting your head. You looked around quickly before taking a small sip. Stephen gave a little chuckle at the way your nose scrunched up, the laugh turning into a smirk as your tongue darted out to lick at your bottom lip.

“I don’t think I get it.” You say passing the glass back to Stephen

Stephen reached out and let his hand linger against your own for a moment too long before informing, “It’s an acquired taste.”

“I think I’d like it better if I couldn’t taste the alcohol.”

He quirks a smile, “Juice… you want to juice.”

You flush at how childish the admission made you seem but murmur, “Maybe…” And changing the subject while the two are still on your mind, “How are they? Dad and Christine, I mean. If you… if you think it’s your place to say. I never really hear about them, Dad and I don’t really talk like that, you know? But I want him to be… happy.”

“You don’t think Christine makes him happy?”

You hesitate before admitting, “No, she’s fine. She’s just a bit… young for him.”

“Ten years isn’t as large a gap at our age as it is at yours.” Stephen defends your father, “More appropriate, at least.” He tacks on to the end as a reminder to himself

And ten years and nearly twenty were two very different things.

“Well, yeah, but I still— I feel like they’re in two different places. Dad has already done his whole stint with the family thing… I don’t think he wants any more kids. And unless Christine isn’t looking for children… and she seems like the kind that would— which I guess is wrong of me to assume, but she gives me that vibe, y’know?” You look back up to Stephen and apologize, “I’m sorry, I know I should just talk to him about it, but he is so awkward with the relationship discussions.”

“Well, does he seem happy to you?”

“He seems the same as he ever has.” You look off into the distance pensively, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. And maybe I’m just too young and have my own idealized version of what it’s supposed to look like…” You trail off

Stephen leaned forward and asked curiously, “And what is it supposed to look like?”

“I dunno’… not as cold as it seems with them sometimes? They hardly ever touch each other or see each other outside of work. She comes over and then leaves instead of saying the night. And I guess I just expect it to feel… warm and fuzzy. And I know things can’t be perfect all the time, but I feel like they should be closer than they are. It’s been almost two years. Is that naive?”

Stephen considers a moment before answering honestly, “I don’t know. I’m not exactly a great authority for this sort of thing.”

“What? Love?” 

“Yeah, that.” He smiles shyly, You give something like a snort and look away with a roll of your eyes and Stephen scoffs, “What was that?”

“I just don’t believe you—“ You cut yourself off and shake your head, “I don’t know if I believe that someone like you doesn’t know about love.”

“Someone like me?” Stephen smirks and teases, “Now what am I exactly?”

You clear your throat, “Good job, good finances… attractive.” You mutter at the end

“What do you know about my finances?” He asks

“Well, I was just in your car… and Dad says you have a nice place, and you know if he says so it must be nice.”

Stephen chuckles and picks up his glass, a twinkle in his eye as he murmurs, “And you think I’m attractive?”

“I—“ A furious blush covers your face and you stutter out, “I- I mean… well, yes.” You reach up and tuck your hair behind your ear, ducking your head, “I just— anyone with eyes can see that, Doctor Strange. S’only a fact.”

Stephen felt a bit bad about the state he’d put you in with the question and apologized, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you things like that.”

“That’s alright, I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.” You say, face flushing a shade darker, “I was just trying— you must have a girlfriend or two.”

“Girlfriend?” He snorts, “No, not… not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What does that mean?”

Stephen tilts his head at you and gives you a stern sort of stare, “What do you think it means?”

Your brows tense for a moment before your eyes go a bit wide. You duck your head, but not before Stephen sees the small smile on your lips.

“Oh, I see. So the tabloids don’t lie?”

Stephen huffs, “Don’t tell me you read that trash.”

“I may take a glimpse when I’m in line at the grocery store sure.” You shrug, “Great entertainment value. Have there really been that many women?”

Stephen was shocked by your forwardness, a little laugh escaping his lips, “Now, Miss Y/L/N, is that a strictly appropriate conversation for us to have?”

“You were trying to give me the sex talk not an hour ago.”

“That’s different!” He argues, “I just want you to be safe— bad decisions happen when you’re young and having sex!”

“Doctor Strange, I’m not having sex— I’ve barely…” You huff, “Can we not talk about this, please?” You beg, “I really, really don’t need to talk about this with you.”

“Well, you can’t talk about it with your dad.”

“Again, I have a mom.”

“Would you finish school in Georgia?”

“Oh, yeah. I like school.” You agree, “And I can start my internship at the same time.”

“Won’t you miss your friends?”

You give a little shrug, “I don’t exactly have friends to miss. Acquaintances, people I’m friendly with, but no one it’d kill me to leave behind. Again, I don’t really get the opportunity to meet people outside of school, and Dad would flip his lid if he did meet the people I hang out with.”

“What’re they like?”

“They’re… a diverse bunch. Physically, mentally, morally… it just wouldn’t go over well.”

“Hm…” Stephen muses, “Well then maybe it would be for the best you go live with your mom. Maybe you end up loving Atlanta?”

“I think I’d learn to.” You agree, “But I would want to come back. I love New York, I know this is where I want to end up in the long run.”

“Well, wherever you end up, I hope it’s exactly where you want.” Stephen says earnestly, “You’re a good kid and you’ve been given an opportunity to make a great life for yourself. I know you’ll use it well.”

You smile at him softly and nod, “Thank you, Doctor Strange.”

Stephen dropped you off at your place… the place you and your dad lived together. He walked you to the door and had to use all his willpower not to ask if there was something else you wanted to do, somewhere else you wanted to go. He’d have taken you on something like a real date, though neither of you would have ever called it that. But it would have felt that way. He’d enjoyed his dinner with you. He’d gotten you to open up and talk to him about everything; Family, friends, school, morals… life. And you were more than the pleasant that he’d always known. You were kind and genuine and refreshing. 

And afterward, he returned to his own place, the penthouse dark and feeling so devoid of life. And he wondered what it might be like to have someone like you— warm and fuzzy— there to greet him. There to talk about his day and make dinner with. Someone to sit in his lap and hold for just a while; Small, soft, gentle, shy. And you were so beautiful. He’d seen you from every angle tonight, putting his photographic memory to good use. The soft candlelight, the street lamps as you’d both walked through the dim parking lot— you’d walked so close to him, head on a swivel, always looking for danger. He’d wanted to tell you that you were safe with him. You didn’t have to be on guard. He could protect you.

God, he wanted to.

He wanted to protect you and care for you and give you that warm and fuzzy feeling you were so excited to explore. Wanted to show you the life you’d been denied thus far living under your father’s roof.

Stephen stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor outside of the shower. He turned the hand of the shower all the way to the left, letting the water burn his skin, watching as the steam crept up the glass. And he lost himself in a fantasy of the two of you, your inexperience, your innocence, how he would treat you.

How before you left for New York you’d show up at his doorstep, red in the face, embarrassed, but desperate. Desperate for him. And oh, how he’d be just as desperate for you. You’d find yourself in the living room, wrapped in his arms as he tilted your head back, placing rough kisses up and down the column of your throat, already forcing sweet little noises from your mouth. Your hands in his hair as his groped at your hips and ass. A very nice ass from what he’d caught glimpses of tonight.

“Doctor… please.” You’d beg, even if you weren’t sure what for

“What do you want, Baby?” He’d whisper

“Will you teach me… will you show me how to make you feel good?” You’d whisper shyly, face flushing that pretty shade of pink

He’d trail your hands slowly down his body, bringing them to a stop at his zipper, “Take these off first.” He’d instruct

And you would eagerly, unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them quickly, staring up at him the whole time; Your sweet gaze completely enrapt, focused entirely on him. Maybe you’d surprise him a bit, sinking to your knees as you stripped the denim from his legs. You’d look up at him at a loss for what he wanted next and he’d show you, taking your hand and running it across his erection. You’d flush and look away, a bit ashamed of the act.

“Look at me, Sweetheart. It’s okay. You aren’t doing anything wrong.” He’d reassure, cupping your cheek gently, pulling at your bottom lip with his thumb, “Take those off for me.”

You’d nod and bring your little hands up to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. When they were in a pool on the floor he’d watch as your eyes went wide, lips parting slightly.

“You’re… so big.” You’d whisper, “I don’t know… what if I can’t—“

“You can, Baby.” Stephen would encourage, “You’re going to make me feel so good. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You would nod eagerly, swallowing hard and staring up at him all wide-eyed and innocent, “You’ve never done this before?” You’d shake your head no, “What a sweet little girl you are. Been saving it for someone special? Who did you want to use this pretty little mouth for the first time?”

Stephen sighed and leaned back against the shower wall, reaching to the side and getting a small pump of body wash. He brought his hand to his half-hard cock and started massaging it slowly, throwing his head back. Him. You were saving it for him…

“You, Doctor Strange.” You’d whisper, “I want you.”

Stephen would smile at you and run a hand over the top of your head, “That’s such a good girl. You wanna be my good girl?”

Stephen shocked himself when your answer was, “Yes, Daddy.” The name caused him to groan aloud, the sound echoing off the walls

It shouldn’t have shocked him like it did. Like he said, he wanted to protect you, care for you, have you... so innocent and sweet and willing for him.

Stephen smiled down at you softly, “Go ahead and open your mouth for me.” You open your mouth and Stephen chuckles, “Wider than that, Baby Girl… and stick out your tongue.” 

You give a shy little giggle and open your mouth wider, sticking out your tongue and staring up at him wide-eyed. Stephen grabbed the base of his cock like he would in his fantasy. The way he would shift his hips forward, relishing in the way the warm saliva would feel against his head. 

“Suck on it soft. Like you would a lollipop.” He’d instruct, “Be careful with your teeth.” You’d close your lips around him slowly, suckling gently at first and he’d praise, “Good Girl. Use your tongue too.”

Stephen ran his hand over his soaped-up shaft and toyed with his head gently, emulating what it might feel like. But he knew it would feel much, much better if it were you. The way your tongue would swirl around his head, the way your lips would start to glisten with your own saliva, pretty eyes staring up at him the whole time.

“That’s it, that’s my Good Girl.” He’d coo, “Now stop for a second and let me have your hand.” You’d hold it up to him and Stephen would demand, “Spit in it.” You’d do that too— shyly, embarrassed by such and improper act— and Stephen would wrap your hand around his base, keeping his own on top of yours for the time being, “You’re gonna stroke me up and down…” He’d say starting to guide your hand across his length, “Use a little more pressure than that… there you go, that’s a Good Girl. Now put it back in your mouth, suck it like a lollipop again.” You’d lean forward and take his tip in your mouth once more, your eyes fluttering closed as you tasted the precum beading on his tip, “You’re gonna stroke Daddy’s cock and suck on his head, just like that. You can do that for me, yeah?”

You’d nod and take his head out of your mouth to reply, “Yes, Doctor.” Before resuming your work

Stephen started stroking himself slowly but firmly, moaning aloud. He liked building himself up, liked the drama and tension of it all. He’d hold the back of your head, his fingers buried in your head pulling gently. 

“Now lick the whole thing, make it messy and wet. Doesn’t have to be pretty, Baby Girl.”

You’d let him go with a little pop and lean forward, stilling your hand and running your tongue flat and soft up the entirety of his length, working all around him. You’d be smart enough to return to his head from time to time, suckling gently before returning to your lapping.

“Very good. Now try to take it in your mouth, just a little. Keep using your tongue and use your hand for what you can’t take.”

You’d nod and take a deep breath, opening wide and taking him only a quarter of the way. He’d just be too big, you’d be too intimidated. That sweet little mouth only capable of so much for the time being. But that’d be alright, he’d be patient with you— gentle— like you deserved. You’d start bobbing your head slowly, little by little learning how to take more and more. Your hand still stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, eyes still transfixed on his face. Your other hand would be on his hip, fingers digging into the skin gently, trying to ground yourself.

You’d get braver little by little and when he saw you were comfortable he would ask, “Can I take control?”

You’d pull away from him and ask hesitantly, “W-what are you doing to do?” 

“I’m going to use this pretty little mouth…” He’d trace your bottom lip with his thumb, now wet with your spit, “All I need you to do is keep your mouth open for me. You seem to do that well enough.”

You would blush but agree, “Yes, sir.”

“I won’t hurt you. And it’s okay if you can’t take it all. We’ll try again some other time. But you’ll do your best for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He’d pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and bring his hips forward once more, “Move your hand, Sweetheart. Let me do the work.”

He’d start gently for you— for both of you, pacing himself— guiding your head up and down his shaft, only ever taking you halfway. And when he got impatient he’d still your head and start thrusting his hips, forcing himself farther in your warm little mouth. You’d get all teary-eyed and look up at him so wanton and lost, squirming on your knees, growing more and more desperate for him.

“That’s it, Baby Girl. Doin’ so good… so good for Daddy…” You’d moan around his length, causing him to groan and pull you off for a moment to catch your breath, “Take a deep breath. I’m gonna’ try to go farther this time.”

And when he did you’d immediately start gagging around him, panicking and pulling away embarrassed, confessing, “I- I can’t it’s too much.”

“You can, Baby.” He’d insist, “It’s okay if you can’t take it all, remember? I just like seeing my cock in that pretty little mouth. Those lips feel so nice.” He’d pull you back to his cock with a little more force, “Open up.” You would and he’d compliment, “Good Girl. Just like that. You just keep that pretty little mouth open and let me fuck your face.” You’d give a little whimper, brows tensing and gagging once more as he touched the back of your throat, “There you go, it’s okay if you choke. You look so pretty gagging on Daddy’s cock. Can’t wait to have you screaming for me—“

Stephen came with a groan. His cum spurt out in thick ropes, painting the shower floor and being quickly washed away. He was panting, his skin sticking to the wall behind him, covered in a layer of clean sweat. He continued stroking himself slowly, working off his high, a sigh falling from his lips as he blinked his eyes open. 

It really would be for the best if you took some time away from New York.

You collapsed in your bed and stared up at the ceiling, finding yourself incapable of wiping the stupid grin off your face that had been present nearly all night. God, he was just so dreamy. And sweet and real. You’d heard from more than a few people that Doctor Strange was a bit of an egomaniac, but you were having serious trouble seeing that. Was he cocky? Absolutely. But egomaniac? Far from it.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he were. He was a god among men.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad.

You groaned and rolled over, burying your face in the pillows and beating your fists against them. What the hell was wrong with you? He was nearly two decades older than you and your dads’ best friend. You were just some kid. Someone he was obligated to look out for.

But that wouldn’t normally include taking someone to dinner, would it?

“Y/N, Hon?” You heard your dad call, “You here?”

You lift your head and called back, “In my room, Dad!” Before face-planting into the pillows once more

There was a pause and the sound of his heavy tread before a gentle knock on your door, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He pushed open the door and walked into your room, immediately starting, “I am so sorry about dinner tonight, Hon. I just got swamped at work— I kept meaning to call…” He trails off and notes your clothes, “You haven’t been waiting up for me?”

“No.” You disagree, “Only sat in the lobby for twenty minutes before Doctor Strange came down and saw me. He told me what was going on.” You hesitate before adding, “He got me dinner and drove me back here.”

You Dad smiles softly, “Nice of him. He’s a good kid.”

And there lies the problem. Strange was in his early thirties and still a kid in your father’s eyes. You were a baby.

“Yeah, I told him thank you, but you should text him and thank him too. He didn’t have to do that, you know?”

“I will.” Your Dad agrees, “And you can come out to dinner with Christine and I tomorrow to make up for what I missed tonight. She’s been asking to see you.”

You give a soft smile, not really wanting to third wheel but appreciating both of their efforts, “Okay.”

“Well… get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, Hon.”

You watched as he closed the door softly, listening carefully until his door shut down the hall. You felt bad— felt awful about the idea of leaving him. He was a good dad. But he was also infuriating. It was nine on a Friday night and you were laying in bed alone, not a friend to call or text, nowhere to go, nothing to do. Your curfew was in an hour anyways, so what would you really do? Nineteen with a curfew of ten o’ clock. There were high schoolers allowed to be out later. 

You reached for your phone on your night stand and clicked the first contact in your recent call list, listening as it rang twice before the phone was answered, “Hey Baby!”

You smiled softly to yourself, “Hey Mom. Can I— I want to run an idea by you.”

Instead, he now lay in his bed on Saturday night, staring at the ceiling above him, praying that any minute now the music would end and the smell of smoke— cigarette and otherwise from what he could tell— would cease to invade his nostrils. He felt, at the moment, that he was back in the college dorms, the sounds of a party from his freshman-year dorm mates thrumming above him through the night.

“At least there’s no exam tomorrow.” Stephen sighed aloud to himself, running his hands over his face

No exam but another keynote speech and a plane ride after that. Meaning he’d be sleeping like shit two nights in a row— unless he called and canceled his speech for tomorrow morning— which could come across as snobbish and unreliable despite his attendance both Friday and this morning.

There was no right answer.

Stephen had already tried complaining to the staff with no results, and even the manager had spoken to his neighbors, but it hadn’t really worked. They’d turned down the music a touch, but not enough to keep it from reaching his ears. His only solace was that it was rock. Even then, it wasn’t his rock— it was shitty 90’s dad rock. The higher being controlling Stephen’s life must have thought itself so funny.

But Stephen was at his wits end. So with a huff and determination, he rolled out of the bed. He grabbed the fluffy white hotel robe that’d been left for him and tied it haphazardly around his body, mostly concerned with his lower half where he only wore a pair of boxers. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he unlocked the deadbolt and turned the doorknob, stepping into the hallway and immediately feeling as though the music was rattling his skull. 

He walked over to the door and banged both fists against it roughly, “Hey!”

The music was turned down another notch, but no one came to the door.

“Hey!” He called once more, pounding against the door, “Can you open up? I just wanna’ talk!”

The music was lowered significantly and Stephen felt a hush fall over the room. He listened intently, his ear to the door before it flew open and he took a few steps backward. 

He brought his hands to his face to rub at his eyes and perhaps hide his frustration as he began without so much a glance to his addressee, “Listen, man. I know it’s only now about to hit one, but I have to be up in about five hours, and at this rate I don’t see myself falling asleep. If you could at the very least turn the music off…”

Stephen trailed off as he looked up to find not the former frat boy businessman or rock star he’d expected, but a very attractive young woman. A very attractive young woman staring at him wide-eyed. Her arms and chest were covered in tattoos from what Stephen could see, but he didn’t dare look down to get a glimpse at her legs. Her hair was thrown atop her head, the smell of smoke clinging to her body and flowing freely from the room. And why did she look so… familiar?

“Doctor Strange?” She asked meekly

Stephen looked down into those wide eyes and remembered, “Christ… Y/N?”

“I- I… yeah!” You say with a little laugh, turning and calling into the penthouse, “Hey guys! Keep that music turned down right now!” Before softly shutting the door behind you, “Doctor Strange…” You repeat with a little smile, a look of disbelief on your face

“Y/N.” He returned once more, “Sweetheart, I— how are you? It’s been… five years.” Stephen answered himself just a bit too quickly, “Yes, yeah… five years. What’re you…” He nods toward the door, “What’re you doing here?”

“I was at a body art convention this weekend trying to network and there was one party that turned into two…” You smile sheepishly, “And several more until we somehow ended up here.”

“We?”

“My coworkers… Reese, Alexis, and Jameson. They’re cool, Alexis is my mentor actually, Reese and Jameson are kinda’ a pair too, but Reese was in way before me…” You trail off still in complete and utter shock to have Doctor Strange— one man who never ceased to plague your dirty dreams— standing right in front of you again, “Anyways, why are you here?”

“Uh… similar reason, actually. NNA convention this weekend, I’m a keynote speaker. But I’m staying here.” Stephen turns and points back to his door, “Right here.”

You quirk a small smile and flush, “I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can get everyone to clear out… at least most of them. Does that work?”

“It’s the music more than anything.”

You nod, “Got it. Let me go… I’ll go talk to a few people.”

“Th-thank you.” Stephen nods

You smiled at him softly and turned to disappear into the room, and Stephen did the same, retreating back into his own room. His heart was hammering against his chest so violently that he thought he might have a heart attack. Five years. Five years had done little regarding the physical attraction he’d once felt for you, though it was clear you were a very different person than he once knew. The girl he’d known would have never found herself in the middle of all… that.

To Stephens’ amazement, he heard the music go dead as voices started floating through the hall. He looked out the peephole to find you herding people from the penthouse. You looked so different. Well— your face was the same as ever. But you were now covered in patches of ink across your arms and chest and yes, even your legs— none of which he could make out from this position— and you just looked… older. Your body was insane. Even your voice sounded more mature.

And you’d seemed happy to see him…

Which must mean you didn’t know.

As soon as you’d gotten everyone out of the penthouse that wasn’t already passed out or living there for the weekend, you sat your own three friends that you were responsible for against the wall and told them to give you a second. You walked over to the door across the hall and knocked on it softly, in case he’d already passed out. He had looked exhausted. But you were pleasantly surprised when the door cracked open, a very handsome, sleepy face peeking through.

“Better?” You ask quietly

“Much.” Doctor Strange agrees, “Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

“Would you uh— do you want to come in and talk? Catch up? It’s been forever.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the offer but you gestured behind you and denied, “I can’t. I’m sober tonight for these three—“

“The hotel is only two blocks away.” Jameson argues, “And I haven’t drank in hours.”

“No, you haven’t drank in a hour…” You hint as subtly as you can, pointing to his eyes, “but I doubt you’d fair too well without me.”

“Then get them to their hotel and I’ll pay for a cab back over here.” The Doctor offers quietly, his eyes searching your face, “Really… I haven’t seen you in too long. Just grab some clothes and you can use my shower. There’s a guest bed too.”

You smile softly, “Are you sure…”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“You were just complaining about needing to sleep ten minutes ago.”

“I’ll take a power nap and cancel my plans.” He offers

“Doctor Strange…” You give him a look of disbelief

“They’ve already heard me speak two days in a row… I’m sure they’re as tired as I am.”

You quirk a smile and nod, “I’ll come back on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Have a bottle of their best red ready for me.”

The Doctor gave something like a grin and agreed, “You got it.” Before closing the door softly

You turned back to your friends whom you shushed before the flood of questions could begin. You then kept them shushed from the top floor all the way into the lobby and out of the hotel. At that point there was really nothing you could do to stop the onslaught of questions and answers…

“Who is he?”

“Doctor Stephen Strange.”

“He was hot!”

“Hush.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-something.”

“Was he an ex?”

“No…”

“Were you someone’s sugar baby in New York?”

“God, no!”

“Are you actually going to go back?”

“I think I might.”

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a friend of my father’s.”

“You and your dad—”

“No, but Doctor Strange was always nice to me.” You say, “And I would like to talk to him. Maybe I can get a gauge on how dad is since he can’t be bothered to speak to me anymore.”

“Is that the only reason?” Alexis teases

“Are you trying to fuck him?” Reese asks more bluntly at the same time

“Please…” You scoff, “Let’s just... let me get you three back to the hotel and I’ll let you know— well, I guess I will be staying, he said he had another bed.” You sigh, “I’ll meet up with you three bright and early. Alexis and I have to go in around one.”

“Oh my God, yeah! You’ve got that rad back piece!”

You smile and nod, “Biggest project yet.”

“Are you excited?” Jameson asks half-heartedly, struggling very hard to walk in a straight line

He was abhorrent when he was crossed.

But luckily still very cute.

“I’m very excited. The client gave me a lot of freedom for this one.”

You spent the rest of your walk detailing the concept you’d drawn up and the last-minute changes your client had asked to make. You were sure to get a good tip off of this one, and Jalen— the store owner— would be ecstatic with the business. He always loved seeing new clients in the store, and with the social media following you’d garnered in the last few years, there were plenty of new faces coming in and out of the store. He was devastated when he heard you and Alexis were moving. But you were so damn excited.

You paused outside the hotel door and ushered your friends through the door, dropping the key in Jameson’s hand. He shut the door a bit and shuffled back and forth on his feet in front of you.

Jameson pauses and looks you up and down, “Are you… trying to fuck him?”

You sigh, “Jamie…”

“I think I have a right to know.”

“It’s been two years. You don’t have a right to know.” You argue, “What if I was?”

“I just don’t know the guy—“

“And I haven’t known the last twenty you’ve slept with.” You shoot back, “Can we… not? Can we not do this? You do this every time and it makes me feel like shit.”

“Then why aren’t we still together? If you’re so concerned for my feelings?”

“For that exact reason! It’s not fair to me.” You run your hands through your hair, “I’m not playing this game with you, not tonight. I’m gone in half a year anyways, and I’m not doing long distance—“

“Why not?”

You tilt your head and bite your bottom lip, deciding to go in for the kill, “Because I can’t trust you.” You see his face fall immediately, “I couldn’t then and I don’t think I can now.”

“It was one drunk decision.”

“I know.” You nod, “And I forgive you, but I’m not putting myself in that position again.”

He looks to the floor but nods, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Just… let me know when you get there safe. Or… or if you get there and don’t feel safe. I’ll be there.”

You give him a small smile and kiss his cheek gently pushing open the bedroom door, “Thanks. Now go sleep off your high.”

Stephen had been pacing the floor of the bar area in his room for the past thirty minutes, listening as the water beat down against the tile in the bathroom. You’d actually come back. You came back to speak to him. And Stephen wasn’t necessarily banking on anything else, though he wouldn’t say no. There was no attachment this time, the age gap was still as prominent as it ever was but feeling far less severe now that you were well into your adulthood and clearly more than capable of taking care of yourself nowadays.

Stephen heard the water shut off and finally settled himself in one of the plush chairs. He was afraid to take the couch and have you that close that quickly. And if you chose to sit on the couch, that could be seen as an invitation for him to get closer at some point. Until then, he would keep himself firmly planted right here on this chair. He turned on the television and tried to make it look as if he hadn’t been eagerly awaiting your company for the last hour. Unfortunately, when he turned on the television it was already on CNN where Stephen’s face had been plastered for nearly a month.

He cringed when he heard, “Well… I never understood when people claimed you had an ego, but maybe they were right after all, Doctor…”

Stephen tried to defend himself, “I wasn’t— I just turned it on.”

“Did you turn it on so I’d see your face plastered across it and be impressed?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

You came traipsing around the couch and flopped onto it backward, “No, definitely not.” You turned to lay on your stomach and reach to the side for the glass of wine Stephen had already poured you, “Maybe if my father wasn’t who he was I could find it in me to be a bit more impressed, but…”

Stephen was too busy observing your legs to think about anything else. He quickly realized that the tattoos on your legs were symmetrical. What was on one side was mirrored on the other. At the moment he was particularly fascinated by two optical illusion-esque shapes on the upper part of your hamstrings. Which were… very much… out due to the teeny tiny black silk shorts you wore. He couldn’t see your arms now, you’d put on a matching black silk robe and a Sublime band tee, totally covering more than a few things he was dying to see.

“Your dad…” Stephen breathed out as you rolled back over, “How is he?”

You furrow your brow, “You’d know better than I would.”

“Afraid not.” Stephen is honest up front, “We had… a falling out. Some years ago now.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow and look him up and down, “What did my father do to you?”

“Who says he was at fault?”

“Easier for me to believe.” You simply murmur into your glass, “Never mind all that. How have you been, Doctor? I’ve tried to keep up, but I can’t say I understand a lot of it when I do.”

Stephen cracks a smile, “Sweet of you to show your support. I’ve been fine. Busier than ever. Made more than a few breakthroughs that a lot of people are interested in. I’m exhausted mostly. But certainly well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You smile at him softly, “You always were a hard worker… talented too from what I remember him telling me. It’s no surprise to me that you’re doing well.”

Stephen nods and offers a small smile, leaning forward to refill his own glass, pleased when you hum and tilt your own toward him for more. Stephen takes the opportunity to stand and sit on the opposite end of the couch. Close enough to reach you for this purpose, but little else. He swore he saw your cheeks flush as he passed you your wine glass, your fingers brushing against his own. You leaned back against the armrest, turning to face him with your legs crossed one over the other, one arm wrapped protectively beneath your chest.

He leaned back against the armrest and asked, “What about you?” Stephen pushed his luck just a bit, reaching forward to trail his fingers over the ink across your shins, “Tattooing must’ve worked out?”

Chill bumps prickled across your skin despite it being warm already as you replied, “Very, very well. My mentor Alexis and I get along well… we’re actually opening a little shop in New York.”

Stephen’s brows shot up in surprise, “You’re moving back?”

“Dad doesn’t know yet.” You sigh and throw your head back, exposing the column of your neck, “Not like he’d care if he did. He hasn’t spoken to me in years. Not since the last time he actually saw me and the tattoos.”

“He always was a bit narrow-minded in that aspect.”

“Every aspect.” You correct with an eye roll and a sad sort of smile, clutching your wine against your chest, “But yes. I’m splitting time between here and there while we get things set up and signed off, but by next year we’ll be up and running and I’ll live in New York full-time.”

“Living by yourself?”

“No, with Alexis. It’s not cheap up there… not cheap down here either, but…” You shrug, “We make do.”

Stephen studied you for a moment before saying, “Don’t take this the wrong way… but never hesitate to reach out if you need help. You’re right. The cost of living is too high up there for two twenty-somethings on their own. And I’m one nearly forty-something with more than enough. So, if you—“

“Doctor Strange…” You eye him with a smile, “that is very sweet— you always have been— but I have to learn to live on my own. I haven’t relied on anyone in years and I… I don’t want to go back to that.” You shrug, “You were right— I doubt you even remember— but you once told me that I’d have to leave home if I wanted to get anywhere.” Stephen remembered, “You were right. And I love who I am now. I hate that my dad can’t love me for who I am still—“

“I doubt he doesn’t love you, Y/N.” Stephen says with a frown

“Well, you didn’t hear the way he spoke to me last time we were together.” You insist, stalling hard and glancing up at the TV, “If someone loves you, they don’t speak to you like that.”

“I’m sorry he was cruel enough to make you feel that way.”

“It is what it is.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“But it is.” You glance back to him, “You know that too.”

Stephen swallows hard and agrees, “Yeah… I do.”

A moment of silence settles over the two of you. You slink down farther in your seat, resting your neck against the armrest, your legs falling in Stephen’s lap. Stephen quickly recovered from his shock and brought his free hand to your shin, gently running his thumb up and down the smooth skin. There were moths on either one, a pattern like sunshine below your kneecap that the moths seemed to gravitate toward, and below that were snakes coiled around your calves and looking toward the moths.

“I like these.” Stephen says, just to keep you talking

You smile, “Me too. Did the moths myself.”

His brows shot up in surprise once more, “You did it on yourself?”

“Mhm.” You shrug, “Best place to practice is human skin.”

“That’s… you’re very talented.”

You blush and mutter a small, “Thank you.”

“Did you do the snakes too?”

“Drew them, but Alexis tattooed them.” You turn over on your stomach to show, “They wrap all the way around, couldn’t have gotten the angle right.”

Stephen swallowed hard and nods, glancing up to see you watching him. He reaches out and trails along the snakes back and pauses for a moment, wondering how far he can push…

“What about these?” He asks lowly, trailing his fingers farther up to the optical illusion tattoos on the backs of your thighs

“Jameson. He’s really niche— works in optical illusion design. I thought it was pretty when he drew it up.”

“He tattooed it?”

“Mhm.”

“He one of the ones I saw tonight?”

“Yeah…” You breathe out, body relaxing as the Doctor traces over the lines delicately, “The bigger guy…”

“Looks like he eats protein powder for breakfast?”

You give a soft giggle and sip from your glass, “That’s the one.”

“Alexis was the girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She looked sweet.” Stephen says, “Not exactly… not what you’d expect from a tattoo artist.”

“What? The bleach blonde and spray tan?” You laugh, “That’s just one of her personalities.”

“Who was the other guy?”

“That’s Reese. They’re non-binary.”

“Apologies.”

“They don’t sweat it. Just a note.”

“Mm. Anything by them?”

“No. Reese specializes in color and that’s not really my thing. I’m all red, white, and black.”

“White?”

“Yeah!” You sit up and crawl toward him, sitting back on your legs and tucking your hair behind your ear, “Hard to see. They fade fast no matter how well they’re done… and to be honest, I didn’t take care of it the way I should have. It was the first one I got when I moved down here.”

Stephen leaned forward and looked carefully in the low light of the room. Three little sparkles right behind your ear. He smiled and reached out to touch it, but thinking better of the action withdrew his hand.

“You can.” You say, having seen him out of the corner of your eye, “I don’t mind.”

So he brought his hand up and gently brushed back the baby hairs laying over the tattoo. He smiled to himself as more goosebumps trailed up your neck. He ran his thumb gently over the little tattoo and dared to lean in a bit closer.

“Did it hurt?”

“Maybe… a bit. Been so long ago, I hardly remember.” You whisper softly

“Which has hurt the most?”

“I uh…” You hesitate before asking, “It’s on my spine. I can show you if you want?”

Stephen moved his hand to rest behind you on the couch and replied, “Only if you’re comfortable.”

He was rather pleased to find you didn’t hesitate for a second. You spun around, still sitting back on your calves and shrugged your robe from your shoulders. Stephen watched with bated breath as you reached down and stripped your shirt off as well. A branch of some sort ran up your back; Thin, meticulously drawn-out lines running up your spine. He also noted that on each of your shoulders you had one of the hands from Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam etched into your skin in the same delicate manner, though in red ink. He also couldn’t help but marvel at the shape of your form. The slope of your waist and hips, the fact that you wore no bra…

“I have a thing for flora and fauna… symmetry too, if you haven’t noticed.” You say after a moment of silence

“Really? Hadn’t caught on.” He teases

You turn and smack him gently in the shoulder with one hand, the other hand and arm tasked with hiding your more intimate bits, “Hush.” You scold lightly

He cracks a smile and you watch his eyes dip lower for a split second before he rights their position and murmurs, “Michelangelo.” 

It was your turn to raise your brows, “Yes… a fan?”

“No, only educated.”

You snort and roll your eyes, “Better than most, it would seem. I guess those eight years of school did something after all.”

“Six.” Stephen corrects as you pull your shirt back on, though noting you don’t pull your robe on as well, “Six years. I got my M.D. and Ph.D. at the same time.”

You scoff, “Of course you did.” You mock, “Mr. Perfect.”

“Doctor Perfect.”

You laugh and push his shoulder, “Fuck off, Strange.”

Stephen smiled and gave you a little jab in the side in return. He took another sip from his wine and glanced at the television to find that the Avengers were destroying upstate New York. Then again, they normally were.

“Hey, uh… do you want to watch a movie?” He offered, “Unless you’re tired and need some sleep?”

You smile sheepishly and shake your head, “It’s the middle of the day for me. I work closing hours at the shop, so I’m normally up between one and three in the morning.” Stephen shot you a disapproving glare and you immediately rushed out, “I still get my sleep! It’s a stable pattern, it’s just not yours.”

“Hm…”

“Yes, let’s watch a movie.” You press on, dying to spend more time in his company, “What’d you have in mind?”

“Let’s see…” Stephen picks up the remote and starts flipping through the channel guide, “Top Gun, Ocean’s Eleven… Jaws!”

“No, no, no…” You object immediately, “No scary movies.”

Stephen snorts at you, “Jaws is a scary movie?”

“Yes!” You defend immediately, “I don’t like the ocean and I definitely don’t like— I don’t like mechanical things in the water.”

“Remind me never to take you to Disneyland.”

“Oh shut up.”

“C’mon! It’s a great movie!” He wiggles his eyebrows and teases, “If it gets too scary I’ll let you curl up close.”

You give him the side eye and test, “Oh? Was that your plan all along?”

“No… but it’s been my plan since a minute ago. It’s one of my favorite movies, don’t make me skip it.”

“Oh, now you’re guilt-tripping me?”

“Y/N?” He groans

“Okay, okay… but then we watch one of my picks afterward. No complaints.”

“No complaints.” He agrees, “Pinky promise.”

You smile as he extends his hand and offers his pinky. That bashful smile returns and you wrap your pinky around his own. Stephen— feeling brave, whether it be the flirting or alcohol— immediately grabs your wrist and pulls you closer. You blush wildly, staring up at him wide-eyed as you land situated between his leg and the armrest, your legs thrown over his own. Stephen pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over the both of you before clicking on the movie.

Offering as his only explanation, “It gets scary quick, Sweetheart.”

One hour and the entire bottle of wine in, you were feeling delightful and warm and fuzzy and… well one other certain type of way. You’d relaxed significantly, finding very quickly you adored this proximity and his touch. He didn’t seem to mind yours either as you’d gotten so bold as to start playing with his hair at some point. He’d given a little sigh, his eyes fluttering closed, head lulling back a bit. You’d had a hard time focusing on the movie at all, too rapt with the moment trying to memorize every little detail possible.

But as soon as the end credits rolled the Doctor asked, “Now then Sweetheart… was that so bad?”

“Mm… no. Not under the current circumstances.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled down at you, “Now, what’s your pick?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Ah, great movie.” He agrees immediately

You laugh, “Really?”

“Of course really. It’s wonderful.”

You hum contentedly and place your finished glass of wine next to his and the empty bottle, “That’s nice. Jamie never wants to watch it with me.”

“Jamie?”

“Jameson.”

“Oh.” His brow furrowed together, “Are you two…”

“No. Well, we were and then we weren’t shortly after.” You shrug, “Did a friends-with-benefits thing for a while after that but… I didn’t like that either.”

“Oh.” He smirks at you, “Look at you go.”

You blush furiously, “Shut up!”

Stephen laughs, “Only teasing. Had any other boyfriends down here?”

“Nope.” You say popping the ‘p,’ “The one was enough.”

“That bad, huh?”

You sigh, “I um… I walked in on him cheating on me about six months in. In the fucking shop. He had a girl laid out on his table with his head—“ You cut yourself off, “Yeah… one has been enough.”

“Sounds like a dick.”

“He claims he was drunk.”

“At work?”

“It was after hours.”

“Great excuse.” He huffs and rolls his eyes, “You’ve always had shit taste in guys.”

You gawk at him, “No I have not! I—“ You blush a shade darker and snap your mouth shut, looking back to the TV

“You?”

“Am not going to say that.” You giggle, “I shouldn’t say what I was going to.”

“Well, now you have to. Inquiring minds would like to know.”

“I can’t.” You groan, “It’s too embarrassing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

You hesitate a moment before deciding there’s enough alcohol in your system to play it off as a tipsy admission somewhere down the line. So you do admit…

“I used to have the biggest crush on you.” You smile shyly

“Like I said: Shit taste in guys.”

You throw your head back laughing and he laughs with you, his thumb tracing circles against your thigh.

“Was it that obvious?”

“A bit.” He admits, “But I thought it was cute.”

“Shut up…” You grumble, “God, that is so embarrassing.”

Stephen hesitates a moment before murmuring, “I never minded…”

Your head snaps toward him and you search his face for a moment to find total earnesty in his expression, “No?”

“No.” Stephen breathes out, turning to look at you, “I thought it was sweet. You were also adorable, which never hurt…”

“Oh, so I’m not adorable anymore?”

“That’s not what I said.” Stephen looks you up and down, “But no... less adorable and more beautiful. You grew up well.”

He watches as your cheeks flush brighter and you return, “You haven’t changed a bit. Still gorgeous as ever.”

“No. I’ve got grey in my hair and frown lines from dealing with idiots.”

You giggle and reach up to pet at the grey streaks in his hair, “I don’t mind. The grey suits you, Doctor.”

Stephen watched you observing him for a moment before asking, “Can I admit something?”

“What’s that?” You ask, glancing up at him through your lashes

Stephen’s eyes flutter shut as you reach up and brush his fringe off his forehead, “I might have had a bit of a crush on you too. Is that perverted?”

“I guess that depends on when the crush started.”

“Mm… definitely not until your second year of college or so. You were a little weird before then.”

You gasp and slap his shoulder, “Take it back!”

“Can’t and won’t.” He smiles and shakes his head, “You were. You were awkward and miserable… it wasn’t until college when you started opening up that I started taking notice of you.”

“Hmph.” You pout up at him, “Well, just to fuel your ego, I found you very attractive long before then.”

“How long?”

“Too long.”

“And after that?”

You pause before admitting, “Never stopped.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Me either.”

“And now?” You ask quietly, staring into his eyes, trying to pull his thoughts from that gorgeous mind

“And now… you’re still over a decade younger than me.” A bit of the light dims in your eyes and Stephen rushes to rectify, “And I am… more attracted to you than ever before.” You watch his eyes fall to your lips as he whispers, “And I’ve never wanted you more.”

“You… you won’t get in trouble?” You ask, tilting your head up to his own ever so slightly

“You’re an adult.” Stephen says, “If you wanted the same thing— only if you want the same thing… if we keep it quiet after the fact...“

You squirm a bit, your cheeks flushing pink, “If I can’t tell anyone… should we be…”

“Probably not.” He admits, inching closer to you as well, “People will talk if they hear— about both of us. Not just me.”

“You’re not looking for a relationship are you?” You ask quietly

“No.” He replies immediately, “Just a good night.”

You swallow hard and weigh your options. Do you give up on some schoolgirl fantasy and walk away without ever fulfilling the dream? Or do you try? Do you at least say you gave it a shot? Where were the boundaries, where did your morals lie? He’d been your father’s best friend… at one point, though that now seemed moot. He was nearly two decades older than you, but you were well into your early adulthood yourself. And he was kind and honest. He wasn’t leading you on. He told you just then exactly what he was looking for.

“I won’t tell.” You whisper, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Still as sweet and innocent as ever. Always so pure in his mind’s eye. The perfect picture of goodness. But he… he was tainted. He had been from the start. Stephen was never the “good guy.” This was his role. To take and take, more and more. It was never enough to have a good thing near, he always needed absolution. He needed to be consumed by the good thing if only to feel that he was good himself for a moment. 

Though he usually left the good thing worse off than he found it.

Stephen asked softly, “Can I kiss you, Sweetheart?”

You gave a nod and whispered ‘yes’ and Stephen took your face in one hand. He cradled your cheek and softly brought your lips together, and he thought he could just explode when he heard you give a little whimper in response to the gentle touch. He grabbed your hips and gently lifted you so you were straddled over his waist, making you give a little squeak as he sat you in his lap. He brought both hands to your face and pressed his lips to yours once more, moving one hand to your neck to tilt your head back and deepen the kiss. He smiled when your hands ran from his shoulders into his hair, pulling gently, coaxing him on.

Stephen bit into your bottom lip gently… just enough to force a small gasp from the shock of the action. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you gave another little whimper. He tasted like red wine and little else, but you couldn’t say if it was that or his lips that had you so intoxicated at this point. Stephen was shocked to find you had a tongue piercing… a thousand perfectly filthy images flooded through his brain. Stephen’s hands explored from your hips to your waist to your upper back… and back again, incapable of staying in one spot for too long. He was clawing and pawing at the fabric like he wanted to rip it clean off your body. He reached up and grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back and placing rough kisses across the skin. You whimpered and ground yourself against him causing him to groan in your ear.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” He breathed out, still trailing kisses up and down your neck

“No…” You agreed, your hand in his hair urging him on despite your words, “It’s an awful idea.”

“Thought about it before?”

“Way too often.”

“Yeah…” He groans out, grabbing your hips and forcing you to rock against his growing erection, “Right there with you.”

You reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling on it gently to signal your want. Stephen complied easily, sitting up and letting you pull his shirt off. You bite into your bottom lip and give a little giggle, out of nervousness or pure girlish excitement. You ran your hand down his chest, excited to see his skin was slightly tanned and there were sprinkles of freckles and moles across the skin. You traced a little pattern across his skin, connecting the dots and Stephen sat there watching you with great amusement. The flush on your cheeks and the smile on your lips were enough of a thrill for him.

“Planning out a tattoo?” He teases

You give a little laugh and disagree, “No. You’re not the type of guy to get a tattoo. And anyway, you have all these sweet little freckles. It would be a shame to cover them up.”

“I’m not the type of guy— well what does that mean?” Stephen asks, slightly offended but greatly bemused

“Well you’re just… all professional and stuff. Ink doesn’t tend to match that.”

“No one would see it if it were on my chest.”

“Oh, and what would you get, Doctor? An anatomically correct heart? A scalpel and a surgical mask?”

Stephen chuckles, “Very funny, Sweetheart.” Stephen snorts, “No, I was actually thinking your name. Big red heart with an arrow through it or something.” He teases

You throw your head back laughing and shake your head, “I won’t tattoo names on people. Bad, bad idea.”

“Can you do that?”

“Deny people a service? Absolutely.” You say, “It’s frowned upon for beginners, but I’ve always refused to put names on people. Besides, I’m well established now, I can do what I want.”

“Aren’t you just all grown up?” Stephen murmurs, running his hands up and down your hips gently

“All grown up.” You repeat

“Can I ask how many men you’ve been with?” Your cheeks turn another shade darker and Stephen gives you a soft smile, “You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

“Just… just Jameson. I almost— well, I did some stuff with another guy, but we didn’t…” You trail off and explain, “It was only a month or so after Jameson and I had texted Alexis to make sure someone knew where I was. Well, apparently Jameson had asked where I was and Alexis told him I was on a date and he totally lost his shit. Showed up at my fucking apartment and—“

“Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with him?” Stephen asks, “Guy sounds like a psycho.”

“Oh, he was only worried about me.” You try to defend, reaching up and toying with the ends of your hair, “He didn’t like that I was with him alone for a second date.”

“Then he should have asked Alexis to go check on you. Or called or texted you first. You don’t barge in on someone during a date.” Stephen argues, slowly putting pieces together that it didn’t seem like you had, “He… does he go after you often like that?”

“I… I mean, he calls and checks on me a lot. And he waits for me to get off my shift to walk me to my car and stuff. He likes to go out with me on our days off— he always wants to go out and do something. He does some stuff that’s annoying… he shows up at places where I am sometimes, but I know he just wants to make sure I’m safe. Dad used to do stuff like that, so…” You give a little shrug, “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“I mean… yes.” Stephen says bluntly, “How is he getting your location? And why does he need to be with you constantly during your free time?” Stephen shakes his head, “It’s one thing for a parent to do that to a child who’s a minor, a boyfriend— much less a normal friend— shouldn’t act like that. Don’t you think it’s a little creepy?”

You knit your brows together and sit back. Stephen could tell you didn’t like his observation, but he didn’t care. He didn’t like the idea of this guy always being on your tail like that. There was something off with that. There was a difference between devotion and obsession, and this guy was seriously walking the line. Stephen also had his doubts that you were telling the whole truth on the matter, and he understood that too. As you said, your father had acted like that for so long it was unlikely you could distinguish its inappropriate nature.

“It’s not creepy.” You disagree, “He cares about me.”

“Sure, I’m sure he does.” Stephen says, trying to de-escalate, “But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have boundaries.”

You crawl out of Stephen’s lap and stand up, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “We have boundaries.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like… he’s not allowed at me and Alexis’ place anymore after the date incident. And he’s not allowed to be in my phone anymore.”

Stephen blinks at you slowly, “He would go through your phone?”

“Yes, I didn’t have a problem with it.” You shrug, “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Would you go through his?”

“I mean… I’d look through his photos because that’s how I would stay up to date with his work, but nothing aside from that.”

“And what was he looking at on your phone?”

“The same thing. My messages and social media sometimes.”

Stephen shakes his head, “Are you sharing your location with him?”

“What? No. Only Alexis.”

“Check it.” Stephen says

“What?”

“I think you should check it.” He repeats and stand up from the couch, head reeling, “Well… I um, after some consideration, I don’t think that we should be doing anything tonight.”

Your face falls, “What?”

“You clearly have stuff you’re working through and I— I’m not trying to get caught in the middle of that. I’m seriously concerned for your safety concerning this guy, and my advice would be to ditch him as soon as possible, but I can’t do anything more for you in this sense, because you are clearly in denial about—“

“I am not in denial about anything!” You object, “He’s just a friend. There’s no reason for you to be getting yourself worked up over this. And I definitely don’t see how it correlates to us sleeping together.”

“Y/N…” Stephen sighs, “If he has your location if he knows where you are, who you’re with, and he is this crazy over you, how do you think he’d deal with that— us sleeping together?” He shakes his head, “I can’t risk my career on that.”

“I’m a legal adult!”

“Yeah, well shit gets twisted pretty quick.” Stephen huffs out, “I’m sorry. You’re gorgeous and I’ve thought about you like that for so long, but the timing isn’t right.”

“It was right five minutes ago when I was in your lap.”

“Yeah, before you told me about your psycho ex.” He laughs, “Sweetheart, I need you to see this through my eyes—“

“Oh, I see perfectly.” You say, “I’m still just some fucking kid too dumb to understand the complexities of the life of the great Doctor Stephen Strange.”

Stephen rolls his eyes and groan, “Oh, come on.”

“No. I get it.” You grab your robe off the couch and slip it back on your shoulders, “If you were going to let me down, you could have at least had the hindsight not to get me drunk so I could escape.”

“I wasn’t trying to get you drunk. You asked for the wine.” Stephen clarifies

“Jesus, you’re already trying to cover your own ass.” You huff, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Stephen rushes after you as you turn to walk down the hall, “Wait, wait, wait… Y/N, come on. Don’t go to bed angry with me.”

“I am angry with you.” You say, taking your arm from his grasp, “I get that people couldn’t know if we slept together, but you are blowing this so out of proportion. Jameson isn’t who you’ve made him out to be.”

He smiles at you softly and murmurs, “You’ve always seen the best in people, Sweetheart. And that’s served you well, ut I’m telling you, from the very little you’ve told me, that guy is no good. You’ll be better off when you get back to New York.” You blink up at him and turn your gaze away, “Do me a favor, yeah? You and Alexis don’t give him your new address, and double-check your location sharing. Don’t turn it off now, but just… look. Yeah?”

You nod slowly, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Sweet. I can’t risk it with this.” Stephen murmurs

“I understand.” You mutter back, sniffing harshly to force back tears threatening to spring to your eyes, “I do. Thanks, Doctor Strange. I’ll be out of here by seven tomorrow morning. Early day at the shop.”

Stephen nods, “Alright. I um… feel free to wake me up and say goodbye. If not…” He leans down and places a gentle kiss to your temple, “goodbye and be safe. Come see me when you get to New York. Maybe you can show me your shop?”

You quirk a little half smile and nod, “Yeah. Thanks for tonight.”

“Anytime.” Stephen whispers and hopes you realize how much he means it

You lay in your extremely luxurious bed wrapped in the comforter and staring at the empty space beside you. You were devastated to say the least. This night had not gone how you’d expected at all. You’d been laying on the bed for a half hour feeling miserable for yourself. You were grown and willing, but you were still too young and naive for him to want anything to do with you.

You also had yet to check your phone as Stephen recommended, because the more you thought about it, the more what he said started making sense. You had developed severe angst living under your father’s thumb in the same way Jameson treated you now. He was constantly texting you, constantly wondering where you were, who you were with, and what you were doing. And like you had told Stephen, if you didn’t answer, he would show up. 

You gave a grunt and sat up in the bed, snatching your phone off its charger. You first went into your find my friends, and sure enough, you could see Alexis’ location, right at the hotel where you’d left her. She was likely fast asleep, sleeping peacefully in the bed the two of you had been sharing that weekend. But you couldn’t see Jameson’s location. But then you saw his contact off to the side. You clicked on it and the option of ‘stop sharing your location’ popped up. Your breath caught in your throat, an awful feeling bubbling up in your chest.

You were furious. 

You plugged your phone back in and shoved it under your pillow, now thoroughly angry and stressed. You didn’t have time to be angry or stressed. You had to be up in just a few hours. So you did what you normally did when you needed to get to sleep fast. You closed your eyes and started to imagine. You had the perfect scenario set up for you this time. You imagined the bedroom door creaking open, sitting up to find Stephen walking toward you.

“I changed my mind.” He would say, “If yours is still set.”

“Yes.” You murmured aloud to the empty room

He would descend upon you, crawling toward you over the foot of the bed. His lips attached to your neck, his hands roaming your body once more. You didn’t want foreplay in this fantasy. You just wanted him inside you. You wanted him to take your body, you wanted him to whisper dirty things in your ear while he thrust in and out of you.

“Tell me you want this.” He’d demand

“Yes. Yes, Stephen. I want this— you. I want you, please.” You would beg

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You plead, “I dream about it. I dream about you, what it would feel like. Show me what it feels like.”

You could imagine the low groan he’d let out, how he’d touch you softly but intently. He’d be scared to hurt you, but he’d be just as desperate for you as you were for him. He would strip you of your clothes slowly, pressing his lips along your skin, teasing your nipples, rubbing your clit over your panties. You would take his clothes off as well, pulling at whatever fabric you had to, just trying to get your hands on his bare skin.

“Hold onto me, Baby.” He’d whisper in your ear, “Tell me if it hurts. We’ll go slow.”

He’d prop himself up with one arm, the other down below guiding his cock to your entrance. It would burn for a moment, the stretch feeling uncomfortable before it turned into something wonderful. He’d watch your eyes as he slid into you, a small breath of satisfaction slipping through his own kiss-flushed lips. He would pause after a moment to check on you, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, pressing soft kisses to your lips and across your face.

“More.” You’d request, wrapping your arms around those broad shoulders, “I want more, Stephen.”

“Okay, Baby.” He’d smile down at you, burying his face in your neck as he slowly slid further into your heat, “Christ, you feel so good, Y/N.” He’d murmur, “Feels so much better than I imagined. And I imagined it so gaddamn many times.”

You could hear your own little whimpers as you slid two fingers into your dripping heat, unsatisfied with the length and stretch. You were craving one f your toys, or better yet, the real thing. The real thing was a decent size from what you’d felt sat on top of his lap, and there was no toy that compared to a real, warm, pulsating member sliding into you. You could imagine how full you would feel when he finally bottomed out, the moan that would slip through your lips, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Oh my God…” You’d sigh out, “Stephen, that’s so fucking deep.”

“Yeah? Did he reach all the way back there?” He’d ask cockily, arrogance showing through

“N-no.” You’d laugh out, “God, no. I can feel you in my stomach.”

You could almost feel his Cheshire smile against your skin, the pleased tone in his voice as he asks, “Does it feel good? Am I too deep? Do I need to pull out some?”

“No.” You would wrap your legs around his back, effectively trapping him in your heat, “No, stay.”

“Awe… good girl.” He would coo into your ear, “You like it nice and deep, huh? You like feeling me buried in this pretty cunt?”

“Yes.” You would agree, “Please move, fuck me now.”

He would start with a gentle roll of his hips, holding you gently, taking the time to feel you wrapped around him, his free hand exploring your body. His lips would trail across your chest and collar bones, up your neck, his lips wrapping around your nipples and sucking gently. His hips would start moving faster, coaxing louder sounds from you. You moved your finger faster, your back arching slightly off the bed.

In your fantasy you grab his hand and wrap it around your throat, something you’d come to thoroughly enjoy. The slight light-headed feeling it gave you, the trust required for the action, the power it put in the hands of the man above you. Stephen would reply without hesitation, squeezing the sides of your neck, grinning at the dirty little secret. He would sit back on his knees and watch as he thrust his cock in and out of you. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty, Baby Girl.” He would pant out, “Obsessed with your body, Sweet. Never gonna’ be able to get enough now.” He would pull out of you and grab you around the waist, flipping you over to raise your hips and thrust back into him, “Mine now, Sweetheart. All mine.”

“All yours, Stephen.” You would agree

You could imagine him twisting your hair around his hand and pulling your head back, forcing you to look back at him. His lips meeting yours for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss, your jaw hanging slack as he pounds into you, reaching another new depth that would have you seeing stars.

“Oh my God… right there, Baby. Fuck me hard like that.” You would plead

You’d always imagined Stephen would be a fan of dirty talk and so his reply would naturally be, “Come on, Sweetheart, talk to me. Let me hear how good it feel.”

“You’re so fucking big. You’re so deep, it feels so good. I want more, I want you to fuck me dumb.” You would beg for him, “F-fuck… make me cum like that.”

He’d speed up, pulling you back against him harder, the sound of your skin slapping together ringing through the room, your pussy gushing and producing an obscene sound. He would hit that one spot, that spot that would have you shaking, the spot only your dildo had been able to reach thus far. Stephen would let go of your hair to wrap a hand around your throat and pull you flush against him.

“You feel so good, Baby.” He would moan in your ear, “You’re so tight— shit, keep squeezing me like that.” He would growl and sink his teeth into your shoulder, marking your skin not covered in ink with love bites, proof of where he’d been, “I’m gonna’ cum at this rate.”

“Cum inside me.” You would ask, “Please, Stephen. I want to know what it feels like, please.”

“You want me to cum in this pretty pussy? Make you mine for real?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the idea, “Yes, Steph— p-please. I want you to make me yours. I wanna’ be yours.”

He would move his hand from your throat to your clit, rubbing it around in small, tight circles. Perfect precision from those perfect hands you adored. Hands you had spent far too much time studying in your younger years, hands that had explored your body briefly tonight, hands you wanted more from.

“Cum with me.” He’d demand, “I want to feel you come undone around me. Let me feel you.” He would ask, “Look at me while you cum, let me see those pretty eyes roll back in your head. Bet you won’t be able to see anything up there. Fucked you nice and dumb like you asked.”

“I-I…” You would whimper, “Steph— gonna’…”

“Yes. Yes, let go. Let me have it.” He would growl, “Give it to me and I’ll give you mine.”

You felt your body convulse, your orgasm curling your toes and causing an audible gasp to leave your lips. The sound seemed so loud in the empty room, the bedsheets sticking to your now sweaty body. Your head felt light as though Doctor Strange’s hand had truly been wrapped around your throat, taking your breath away. You didn’t stop circling your clit until you were well and truly certain your body was spent. And after that, you slowly rolled out of the bed. You went to the bathroom and peed, washed your hands thoroughly, and then debauched one of the bathroom’s towels, wiping yourself down thoroughly. 

You walked back into the bedroom and collapsed on the opposite side of the bed. You closed your eyes and it worked like a charm, you drifted off to sleep peacefully, a small smile on your face having achieved exactly what you’d come here for.

If only in your dreams.

Stephen had woken up bright and early. His sleep hadn’t exactly been peaceful. He’d been haunted by dirty dreams, refusing to chase a release with you laying in the next room over. There was nothing wrong with it, it was just based on principle. He had called down for room service, hoping you would crawl out of your room with enough time to grab something decent to eat. He wasn’t sure what you liked, so he had gotten a bit of everything. He was currently enjoying an omelet with a steaming cup of black coffee, glancing back and forth between his plate and the television. 

He heard a door open down the hall and did his best to look disinterested until he heard the sound of boots on the hardwood floor. He looked up to find you in a black peasant blouse, black mom jeans, and chunky black boots. Your hair was thrown lazily in a bun on your head, but you had on a full face of makeup. It wasn’t typically Stephen’s preference, but he could admit that the dark black liner on your lids was entrancing. Your glossy lips were simply an added layer of torture, looking perfectly kissable. He wondered if the glass tasted like something fruity or if it simply had the chemical taste that most women his age seemed to be endeared to. 

“Good morning.” Stephen greets, “I called down and got us some breakfast. Fresh coffee if you need it and plenty of food. Come sit down.”

You seemed to hesitate before walking over, dropping your bag to the floor and plopping down. You immediately reached for the bowl of fruit and picked up a strawberry, popping the fruit between your lips. Stephen watched with great interest before redirecting it quickly to the TV.

“How did you sleep?” He asked, simply to make conversation

“Fine.” You say vaguely, “How about you, Doc?”

“I’ve slept better.”

“I sent away a party for you to get shit sleep?” You ask amused

“I’m old. We don’t pick and choose our sleep stability.”

“Mm, you’d think you’d have it down by fifty.”

“Excuse you, I’m thirty-five.” Stephen scoffs looking back at you

You shrug and to piss him off say, “Same difference.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Do I need to call you a cab?”

“No. Jameson is picking me up.” You reply, taking a muffin and peeling back the paper, “I have a back piece today. It’s supposed to be a five hour job. It’s my longest sitting yet.”

“What is it?”

“The head of a Wendigo with snakes wrapped around the antlers. We won’t do the nature forms he wanted until next session.”

“What is a Wendigo?”

“Native America folklore, you should look into it. Really interesting.”

“Hm.”

Stephen doesn’t ask what he wants to. He doesn’t ask if you checked your location services, he doesn’t ask if you’re mad at him, and he definitely doesn’t ask if you’d be willing to see him in New York. Maybe then it would be the right time. He would have you to himself. No prodding friends and no silly disagreements.

Your phone rings a few times and you roll your eyes before answering, “What?”

“Well jeez… good morning to you too, Princess.” Jameson says, “We’re outside whenever you’re ready. The doorman wouldn’t let me in.”

“No, of course, the doorman didn’t let you in, you don’t have clearance to be in the building. I told you to just call me when you got here anyways.”

“Well… I’m here.”

“I’ll be down in ten minutes. Let me finish eating.”

“Why don’t you call down and let them get me to come up?” He suggests

“It won’t kill you to wait in the car for ten minutes, Jamie.”

“Why can’t I come up?”

“Because I’m literally just finishing—“ You let out a huff, “You know what? Fine. Be there in three minutes. Not like I wanted to enjoy my morning anyways.”

You hand up before he can reply and stoop down to grab your bag. Stephen stands and shifts awkwardly on his feet, trying to decide where to go from here.

“It was nice seeing you, Doctor Strange. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

“Yeah.” Stephen says stepping forward, “It was nice to see you too. Really nice, I mean it. I’m sorry last night ended—“

“It’s whatever. You were right anyways.” You shake your head and shove your bag onto your shoulder, grabbing your phone from the table, “Hope you get back to New York safe.”

“Y/N, wait.” Stephen sighs as you turn on your heel for the door. He grabs your arm gently and waits for you to turn back around, letting out another deep sigh seeing the disappointment etched into your features, “I… I’d like to see you when you get settled in back home. I’d like to finish what we started… what I think we were going to start.”

You shake your head, “C’mon, Stephen. I don’t want to do this again. And I don’t want to listen to you spew some bullshit about your career to avoid sleeping with me again.”

“We won’t do this again.” He says certainly, “Well… we’ll do the movie part. Wine again if you’d like. But we won’t do the arguing about moving forward. And it wasn’t bullshit, Y/N. C’mon. It’s my reputation on the line, Sweetheart, you know that. Think about the light they used to shine on your dad and Christine. They get one hint that I’ve been anywhere doing anything with you, I’m done for.”

And you knew he was right. But it didn’t make it hurt any less at the moment.

You seem to consider for a minute before unlocking your phone and shoving it toward him, “Give me your number. I’ll text you when I’m settled.”

Stephen felt a small sliver of joy course through him. He put in his number hastily and labeled himself as simply ’Stephen Strange.’ You took the phone back and without checking the number put it in your pocket. Always so trusting.

“If I was right, you need to tell someone your trust.” Stephen says softly, “Things like this escalate every day. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I don’t live here. I can’t do anything about him. Talk to Alexis or your boss and tell them what you’ve noticed. Alexis sounds like a good friend, she’ll believe you. And if she sees it too, it will be able to talk to your boss. Okay?”

You nod and whisper, “Okay.”

“Good.” Stephen gives your arm a gentle squeeze and reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, “Don’t leave mad at me, Sweetheart.”

You shake your head, “I’m not mad, I’m just… disappointed, Stephen. I’ve been… I got so close to something I wanted for so long last night. I’m frustrated with the way it ended.”

Stephen could have moaned at such a confession. He took another step forward and dipped his head, brushing his lips over yours. You pushed up on your tiptoes and slotted your lips more thoroughly over his own. He wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you closer, reveling in the last bit of you he would have for a long time. He pulled away slowly and reached up, brushing the baby hairs back off your forehead, smiling at you softly. His heart fluttered when you gave a shy smile back.

“I will make it up to you when you get to New York if you want.” He promises, “And if not, no hard feelings, but I’d like to know you made it safe and things are going well. Even if you don’t want to see me, just shoot me a text and let me know you’re doing alright, yeah?”

“I will.” You agree, “I hope life keeps going well.” You say sweetly, cheeks flushing as you look away from him to murmur, “I will for sure text you when I’m settled.”

Stephen smiles, “I look forward to it. Now go have a good day.” He kisses your forehead and opens the door for you, “See you soon, Y/N.”

“See you soon.” You return, stepping out into the hall and throwing a quick smile over your shoulder

The last thing you saw as the door closed was his smile, the dimple in his cheek winking at you. Your smile quickly faded as you remembered what you were walking away to. You stormed down to the lobby and only managed a half-assed ‘thank you’ to the doorman as you stomped toward Jameson’s shitty van. You flung your bag in the back seat and then slammed your door shut, resulting in a disgruntled comment that you couldn’t hear over the cogs in your head turning. 

Your brain did however process the first question he asked which was, “Did you sleep with him?”

And while you so badly wanted to reply, ‘None of your goddamn business,’ you instead remembered the implication that could make against Stephen and answered, “No.”

You could practically feel the grin bloom on Jameson’s face as he said, “Could he not get it up or something?”

“No, dickhead. He’s just my father’s best friend. It was not and never will be like that. He was just checking in on me.”

You seethed silently as Jameson’s hand came to rest over your thigh as he pulled onto the road, “Well good. I’m glad to hear it. I mean, I know you have daddy issues, but I was hoping you wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Oh, fuck you, Jameson.” You spit out, “The only poor decision my daddy issues have ever resulted in were you.”

“What the hell, Y/N?” Jameson asks, “I was just joking, chill out.”

“Well it didn’t sound like a joke to me. It sounded like you being a dick. I’m tired of you making those jokes, they aren’t funny.”

“You usually laugh.”

“Yeah, I’m too uncomfortable to do anything else when it comes to you.” You huff, “Take your hand off of me. I don’t want you to touch me anymore.”

You look toward him to find his jaw hard set and his teeth grit together as he checks, “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him? You sound dick-whipped right now. Where the hell is this bitchy ass attitude coming from.”

You don’t respond, instead laying back your seat and closing your eyes. Another half hour of sleep wouldn’t hurt. And you would need every bit of energy possible to get through this session and the conversation you needed to have with Alexis and Jalen afterward. If Jalen didn’t believe you, the upside was you only had to last a few more months. And you needed to double check with Alexis she hadn’t given or shown Jameson your new New York address— home or shop. Maybe it was only paranoia, but Doctor Strange had seemed so earnest in his concern. And he’d been right about the location tracking. That had to mean something.

Stephen leaned back against the door and looked at the table full of food. He had at least resolved the issue of your anger to some degree. He really hadn’t meant to make you angry in the first place, and he knew in his heart you understood why he couldn’t risk a situation like that. But he also understood your frustration. He was feeling it too. He was certain the two of you would be offered another opportunity, and next time, it would be on your own terms, not some random act of fate. 

He was hopeful when you turned up in New York you would be drama free and excited about all the new possibilities for yourself. Maybe you’d take him up on his offer and show him around your studio. After that he would offer to take you to dinner somewhere casual, and following that— if you wanted— he would take you home. 

Yeah. It would all work itself out when you got back to New York.

"Y/N?" Came that beautiful deep baritone you heard late at night with you hand between–

Ugh.

You looked up and tried to force a soft smile on your face, though it probably came off more as a grimace. He immediately flashed you that beautiful smile and you were grateful you were sitting, or your knees certainly would have gone weak.

"Hello, Doctor Strange." You murmur, toying with the hem of your skirt

"What are you doing here?" He asks curiously

"Oh, well... Dad and I are going to dinner tonight. He was supposed to get off at–"

"Five." Strange finishes for you, "That was before he got in a kid that shoved a penny so far up his nose, they nearly sent him to me instead." Stephen realized very quickly when your face fell, "He didn't tell you?"

You give a weak laugh, "I guess he forgot about me..." You cringe when you realize how sad and desperate the joke sounds, "I just mean– he's forgetful, you know?"

Stephen nods and agrees, "Forgotten my birthday ten years running... until last year."

Your face flushed a shade darker as you recalled the dinner your dad had taken Stephen to to celebrate... after you'd reminded him that morning that it was Strange's birthday. You'd been invited. You, your father, Strange, and the woman your father had been talking to at the time. Now his girlfriend. His girlfriend that he spent all his time with.

It was no secret to Stephen that you were lonely. Your parents were separated, your friends were... few and far between, your so-called 'boyfriend' was a dick from everything your dad had told him. But still better company than none, he supposed. Stephen would offer his own services if it weren't so... odd a thing to do.

If he trusted himself with you.

"In that case..." You sigh, grabbing your purse and pushing up from the chair, "guess I'll be calling a cab."

"Well, um..." Stephen clears his throat, "I could drive you somewhere? Back home? Your boyfriends' house... damn, what's his name?"

Your face goes cherry red and you shuffle back and forth on your feet, "David? David and I... well, he broke up with me."

Stephen snorts, "Why on earth–"

To redirect him from having to answer that question you accept, "But I'd love a ride home."

Stephen nods slowly, looking you up and down and noting your sweet little outfit. A short, flowy black romper that was snug around your waist, low cut in the top, a pair of brown platform sandals, and an oversized denim jacket. Your hair was even done in soft waves, makeup natural but there. You looked so sweet.

He couldn't let you be alone tonight.

"Sure, yeah, I could do that." He nods slowly, "Or uh, if you wanted... I'm sure you were excited for dinner. I could go home and change, and we could go wherever you had in mind?"

He told himself it was just a favor to your dad. No one wants their little girl alone on a Friday night. Who knows where you'd end up without someone to keep an eye on you?

You were speechless.

Dinner? Alone? With Doctor Strange? At his invitation?

Stephen took your silence and wide-eyed stare as discomfort and immediately rushed out, "Only if you'd be comfortable, that is. I didn't mean–"

"Oh, no!" You exclaim, "I would love– like... that would be great... good... fine." You stutter out

Stephen quirked a little smile, "We'll aim for great."

WAIT I NEED TO WRITE THE REST NOOOW!! bestie, this idea was TOO good, how am i meant to be productive with these thots rolling around my noggin? 😭 tell me what sort of smut you'd expect from these too? is she experienced, virgin, somewhere in between? soft, rough, kinky, vanilla, daddy kink, no?? tell me what you want!!!