#surgeon!stephen
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ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ
Stephen Strange x Surgeon!Reader
summary: YN had been struggling with a cold for as long as she could remember – well, for a week. But being her restless and (kinda) workaholic self, this minor cold morphed into something that benched her definitively. And who could be a better caretaker than her loving boyfriend, who happens to be a doctor himself?
word count: 7.3k
warnings: a tiny bit drama, medical stuff, surgery stuff, mentions of sick people, surgery, mentions of blood, reader has pneumonia, passing out, hospital environment, Stephen kinda freaks out because he is always thinking the worst, protective!Stephen, soft!Stephen (but only for reader), slight suggestive bits, so much fluff, talk about future, short mentions of the Avengers
author’s note: I had so much fun writing this request! Finally something where I could pour my Grey’s Anatomy knowledge into :D I really hope you like the direction in which this one went @colewritess :3 I needed some angsty drama in my life, so I put that in :x
Waking up in the middle of the night was something very common in the Strange-LN household ever since the two doctors had acquired their white coats and had graduated with honors. Usually, YN was the first one to wake up to the vibration of her pager, followed by the usual soft ring of her phone because one of her interns would update her on the incoming case beforehand. Stephen would follow close behind, throwing one arm lazily over her waist at first to nuzzle his face back into the warmth of her neck - it helped him to shrug the deep slumber off his hardworking mind - before the blanket would get thrown away to relieve the world of the sadness of not seeing his toned, utterly gorgeous body.
YN was nothing but an admiring girlfriend.
But this early morning, almost still the depth of the night, things were differently: Instead of hearing the tired voice of his girlfriend softly speaking into the phone and waking him up with that, so he could check his already vibrating pager too, the only sounds heard in the dark bedroom was YN's shallow breath and the never-ending sounds of both pagers and her almost barely ringing phone. Confusion settled into the doctor, even more so after he had propped himself up on one of his arms, letting the mattress dip in the process of it, and still, YN did not start to stir even slightly. But before he could process her strange behavior, he had to accept the call.
"Yes?"
He never was a fan of greetings, especially not in the face of interns - and he kind of enjoyed messing around with those tiny ducklings, barely out of their mother's homes, who still had to learn a lot. Even now, Stephen could almost grab the perplexity radiating through his girlfriend's phone at the sound of his voice.
"Uhm... This is Doctor LN's number. You are not Doctor LN," a hesitant voice started to speak, and Stephen had to roll his eyes in amusement before they settled atop the still sleeping form of the woman he not only shared this bed with on a few occasions. "A wonder how you earned that place in Harvard, Jones," the Strange scoffed while he reached out for his bedside lamp to let the soft light invade the dark bedroom, only illuminated by the streetlights and passing cars outside the window front. Blinking against the new light source, he took a closer look at the gorgeous woman next to him, his eyebrows starting to furrow at the sight of her puffy eyes, the red nose resembling one of the stuffed Rudolphs they had seen only a week ago while doing their annual Christmas shopping, and not to mention her breathing of which he obviously wasn't a huge fan. "Hold on a second..." The seemingly simpleminded intern mumbled before he clearly put the phone a few inches away from his face to shout over the entire floor, "You were right, Macy! Doctor LN and Strange are a thing!" And then, the voice returned, louder now.
This day hadn't even begun, and Stephen wanted to strangle the first one already.
"I am sorry, sir. The coffee still has to kick in, I guess... Nevermind. There is a GSW incoming: a bullet in his brain and several in his thorax. He was stable, so we decided to do a CT. I'll send the images to Doctor LN's tablet as soon as I have them." At least Jones wasn't a total incompetent fool, so Stephen didn't have to rip his head off entirely. "Send them to mine; she will look at them on our way to the hospital. Don't let him die because your coffee addiction gets in the way of saving lives." And with that, he ended the call, and the phone landed on his pillow before Stephen slowly scooted closer to the sleeping woman, and now he finally had room for his over-boarding worries etching themselves into his mind.
Gently, his hand caressed her cheek before his flat palm made contact with her forehead to feel her temperature. Maybe slightly raised, Stephen thought before bending down and pressing whisper of kisses all over her face. Now, she seemed to wake up - scrunching her nose, twisting her lips, and the coughs started almost immediately. They were his constant companion as soon as he stepped into the apartment ever since they began to occur one and a half weeks ago, and by now, the cold should've calmed down. Instead, it seemed worse than yesterday. His idea to grab dinner on their way home wasn't probably his best idea of the week, but YN had seemed fine enough to agree.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Stephen mumbled with his lips pressed against her cheek, and YN slowly turned her head with a groan. "What time is it?" Even her voice sounded horrible. "Something around three. There is a GSW coming in, but you can stay home if you like. I'm handling it." The next cough made the man almost flinch, and he was sure he felt the aching pain in his lungs and throat as bad as YN obviously did, judging by her scrunched-up face and her hand that had settled atop her burning throat. She looked back at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Thorax?"
He nodded while her eyebrow wandered even further up. "Who is in charge this night? Forgot to check before we headed out." Stephen didn't have to think twice.
"Hamilton."
"And you want me to stay home when this imbecile of a cardiothoracic surgeon is unsupervised in my department? Your sense of humor definitely wasn't the thing I found so charming, that's for sure..."
She had already started to climb out of the comforting warmth of their shared bed, and instantly YN missed its soft embrace.
"Touché," the man scoffed while following her into the now brightly lit bathroom and watched her from the doorframe, where he leaned with his arms crossed over his chest. She seemed not doing all too well, but at least she could stand on both feet, so he talked himself into believing that everything would be just fine, even though if it meant for her standing in the OR for at least five hours. "You will drive back home after the surgery is done, do you understand me? No post-op check-up, no sneaking around me to dodge the inevitable, no rounds this morning, and no teaching lab with your little ducklings." Her, by the toothbrush muffled, Whatever was very audible for Stephen because he knew this woman better than himself. So he pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped right behind her; their eyes met through the mirror while his hands settled on top of her shoulders, where his thumbs started to massage the stiff muscles around the back of her neck. "I mean it, darling. You're not doing well, and I want you to relax and treat yourself to some hot soup and that fluffy blanket we got last week. Catch up on those shows, and I'm gonna try to get home early so I can prep you the perfect bath and cook you something nice."
He stopped for a second, but after no reaction on her behalf, Stephen bent his head to nibble at the side of her neck and found all her favorite spots before humming softly but raspy because he knew what his morning voice did to this woman. "I asked you a question, darling. Should I repeat myself for you?" Chuckling at the sight and feeling of her quick nod - the toothbrush rested pointlessly in the corner of her mouth - Stephen rested his lips just above her ear and watched her through the mirror again. "I asked," he started in his raspiest of morning voices, "if you understand me." Her deep sigh and mumbled "Okay, yes" sounded more like a tiny moan, and the doctor chuckled for another time before pressing a kiss to her temple and starting to brush his teeth as well; his arm closely wrapped around her waist and her body settling against his side, just as every morning they start together.
And just as every morning, Stephen couldn't get enough of their reflection together. Maybe he had to finally thank Christine for the hard work she had invested into playing matchmaker for them.
;
"Doctor LN!" The excited voice turned a bit hesitant as both arriving doctors turned around, and Jones had to face the embarrassment from earlier. "Doctor Strange, sir." And with that, the intern held two cups of to-go coffees in hand, stretching them out to his two supervisors. "I asked Doctor Palmer how you like your coffee, sir," he quickly spoke at the doubting look manifesting on Stephen's face, and YN rolled her still tired eyes. They stung a bit as well, as she now realized. "Deep breaths, Jones, he won't bite your head off." The man closely next to her scoffed before taking the first sip. "I wouldn't go this far as to promise things like that." YN hit him with her tablet but didn't wait for his reaction before turning her attention back to the intern while giving the labs of their GSW another once-over. She looked at Jones with a questioning expression after she had evaluated the patient's current constitution. They had worked so many hours together that she didn't even need to ask the question out loud. "Doctor Russel is preparing the anesthesia, and the team has prepped OR two, just the way you both prefer, Doctor LN, Doctor Strange."
Stephen had to raise both his eyebrows this time and had to admit that Jones wasn't a total catastrophe - he had to give him that at least.
YN nodded as they waited for the elevator to reach the operation room floor. As the doors opened to let them inside the metal coffin, as she loved to call this vicious transportation method, she gulped down the entirety of her coffee because she felt she needed every single drop of caffeine to withstand the upcoming hours of work. Her head had started to pound right after they had left the chic apartment Stephen and she called her own ever since they had finally moved together after three years of tedious dating, and it had gotten worse during the drive over here.
She hadn't told her over-worrying boyfriend a single word, of course. She would do this surgery, she would check up on some patients, and then - maybe - she would gift herself an early leave as a pre-Christmas kind of gift and get some good food on her way home. Perhaps she could start looking at those recipes she discovered while watching some stupid cooking show - which wasn't so stupid at all, seemingly.
Christmas dinner wouldn't cook itself after all, and she had promised Christine and her fiancé Marc that they could come over. Christmas was much more relaxed if there wasn't a family to celebrate it with.
But her confused thoughts, who chased themselves over the past couple of days since the first symptoms had begun, were interrupted abruptly as her throat acted up again. It started with a tingle, morphing into an annoying scratch before it would turn into a violent coughing fit. And it did, worse than ever. It got even worse after the first couple of nastily wet and deep-sounding coughs, and YN felt as if she couldn't get enough air into her overworking lungs. Her lungs constricted to relieve themselves of all the fluid which wasn't supposed to be in there, and every single breath burned like hell in her chest.
With one hand pressed against the elevator wall, the surgeon steadied herself, head buried in the crook of her arm, while cough after cough crept out of her throat and shook her entire body. Tears started to prickle in her stinging eyes, and the throbbing pain inside her skull increased tremendously within seconds.
Stephen was right at her side, one of his warm hands stroking over her entire back, up and down, while the familiar frown etched itself onto his forehead and in the space between his brows. Jones didn't know what to do, so he just stood there and hoped for a fast end of his favorite supervisor's misery. "Hey," the neurosurgeon mumbled softly as the coughing fit finally ceased, hand still rubbing over her back. "YN, listen," he began as the elevator stopped and the doors opened with a happy ding. “It’s nothing. Just a drop of coffee going in the wrong direction.” And with that, she pushed herself from the wall, fastened the grip around the tablet still in hand, and followed Jones, who himself had a worried expression on his face, but he didn't dare to say something. Especially not in front of Stephen Strange, who could end his barely started career right on this very spot. Instead, he took the personal belongings of both surgeons and nodded to the small changing room in this part of the hospital. "Your scrubs are already in there, straight from dry-cleaning. OR two will be fully prepped as soon as you're ready," he said before scurrying away.
Stephen watched his girlfriend with eagle eyes as he followed her into the changing room, and while she had already slipped out of her coat, he pushed the door close and just stood there. His eyes moved over her pale face - even more so than usual - and he noticed the constant frown engraved in her beautiful but tired-looking face. He even realized that she moved slower than normal, and everything took a tad longer. "YN...," he started again but was faced with a raised hand while she hurried to get into the dark blue scrubs.
The air condition in this part of the building was what she dreaded most since that cold had made its first appearance with a scratchy throat. Now all she wanted was to get back into that warm, thick coat she just had folded and wanted to wrap herself into the thick scarf Stephen had gotten her for Christmas two years ago, but all she got was thin blue scrubs and her comfy Nike sneakers.
"I am fine," she told him finally while popping another cough drop between her lips and starting to braid her hair. Stephen had, at last, made an effort to change as well, and YN was nothing but an admiring girlfriend again. She knew that sex was off the table until she got better, so she took what she could get very willingly, even if it were only tiny bread crumbs in the form of the sight of toned abs, biceps, and back. "Yeah... Wonder why that's so hard to believe after that coughing fit you threw in that elevator," he returned almost sourly, and YN understood it. She really did because she would be just as on edge as he was if it was Stephen who had gotten sick.
Sighing, the surgeon tied the end of her braid together before starting to secure it with bobby pins around her head. Stephen sighed as well and came over to her after lacing his sneakers and helped her just like every time they had the pleasure to operate together. He didn't say a single word, and YN let him sulk in silence for the time being. The Strange would soon open his mouth again because he wasn't the sulking-in-silent type of guy, and she was very thankful for this trade of his. How she hated to guess what wrong was and why the guy felt insulted. Stephen was surprisingly easy.
The entire world would question her sanity if they would ever hear her saying that out loud.
Upon entering the scrubbing area, she tied his recently preferred cap - she had gotten him that for his birthday because this man owned way too many ties - before he did the same for her. He pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder after his long and fast-working fingers were done and took the sink next to hers, where YN already had started to scrub in after putting on the face mask.
Stephen soon broke the silence, and again, she had been right: this man wasn't able to sulk on his own for long.
"As soon as your part is done, I want you to get an x-ray. I don't like the sound of that cough. You're happy that I don't have my stethoscope with me, otherwise, you wouldn't scrub in right now because I would hear something I really don't wanna hear, and I would send you straight up to Chamberlain." At the mention of the one cardiothoracic surgeon Stephen trusted most of the time, YN scrunched up her face. "I told you before, and I will tell you again, that I am fine. It's a nasty cold, nothing more. You're over-exaggerating." He stopped in the middle of scrubbing, head jerking in her direction. At this moment, she was glad that she only was able to see his eyes and the play of his eyebrows, but it was still as bad as she had anticipated. "Excuse me for worrying about my workaholic girlfriend who seemingly doesn't possess any kind of sense of self-preservation." Her eyes widened at that, and after rinsing off the soap residue on her arms, she threw the used bar of soap into the metal sink and turned to Stephen, arms raised so she wouldn't touch anything in the not sterile environment. "Look who's talking about lacking a sense of self-preservation. Do I have to remind you of that little episode of yours standing in a thirteen-hour surgery with a broken ankle? You're a fucking hypocrite, Stephen, and I am a grown woman who knows her boundaries very well, thank you very fucking much."
And with that, she passed him and entered the operation room, where the patient was already put under, and two of the residents prepared the last few instruments to their surgeon's liking. She instantly regretted every single word she had spoken out loud back in the scrubbing room and wanted to run back to apologize profusely, but she knew that she had to stand her point, even though it hurt her heart.
One of the nurses held open the light blue gown, and YN entered arms first before pushing her hands into the open-held gloves, sighing softly. Those steps were always almost meditative for her and her mind, always putting her at ease, no matter how severe the case was.
The OR was her safe place when other places weren't available - just like now because the safe place that Stephen represented wasn't available, not until the steam wore off and their sights weren't as red-tinted as they were now. Sometimes it was hard to love a person that was so similar to oneself, but YN had chosen, and she never regretted choosing Stephen as her partner in every moment that life offered her.
Stepping at the operating table, YN nodded in everyone's direction to greet them, and she pushed every thought about their little fight out of her mind. "Good morning, everybody. Long time no see, June." The OR nurse chuckled. "I thought we would get at least a day and a half before being back in here together." YN grinned behind her mask and softly shrugged. "Hope you had a good coffee because judging by those scans, we will be here for quite some time. Is your son at daycare? Do you need to go and call someone to pick him up later?"
Stephen had entered quietly - he preferred it that way, unlike his girlfriend - but watched her closely because it always left him speechless what a welcoming and open-hearted nature this woman had who had chosen to live with him. He still asked himself why she had decided that he was the one person worthy enough of her love and attention.
"He is upstairs at the emergency daycare, no worries, Doctor LN. We prepared a bottle of water for you, by the way. Doctor Jones said you could use a sip here and there." Nodding her head, YN stepped closer and opened her gloved hand. "Thanks, June. Ten blade, please."
Stephen had already started with the incision and worked through the brain's tissue while always having an eye on the cardiothoracic surgeon just a few feet further down to him.
;
Dabbing with a clean towel over the recently repaired aorta, YN slowly nodded, satisfied with her work. No one would suspect this artery was a shredded mess three hours ago. "Okay... Those stitches look good. Suction." The resident, Doctor Peterson, moved the tube slowly through the chest cavity. "Over here?" His question was unanswered for an unusual amount of time, so he looked up to see his supervisor's face. "Doctor LN?" Blinking, YN raised her head and watched Peterson before turning her attention back to the open chest in front of her. Her brain had difficulties following everything after standing for six hours straight. "Yes... Yes, sorry. Right over there."
Stephen had stopped working as the question arose and yet again watched the woman with eagle eyes.
She turned her head to cough softly into her mask while pressing her face against the sterile OR gown at her shoulder. Clearing her throat, YN nodded as one of the not scrubbed-in nurses raised the half-emptied water bottle and waited until one took off the light of her head, pulled down the mask, and finally put the straw right in front of her lips. YN's team was the best a surgeon could find, she was sure of that. "Thanks, Helen," she mumbled after everything was back at its place, and she stepped back at the table.
"What's happening next?" She asked Peterson now, her voice scratchier than ever, and her lungs started to protest again. Taking a deep breath - well, as deep as it was possible with a lower lung capacity - YN tried to shake off that strange feeling as if her head was wrapped in cotton and as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs and much-needed oxygen into her bloodstream. "We will follow the aorta up to the left ventricle, check the three branches - brachiocephalic artery, left common carotid artery, and the left subclavian artery - before taking him off the cardiopulmonary bypa-... Doctor YN? Are you alright?"
She barely could understand his words, but the sound of the scalpel hitting the ground next to her right foot was all-consuming. YN didn't even realize that it had fallen out of her strangely numb fingers at which she stared now, unmoving. Everything seemed so far gone in front of her eyes, especially as the room started to spin around her.
"YN? YN, talk to me. What is wrong?"
Stephen. His voice was as calm as ever, but she couldn't push herself to move her head and look into his handsome face. Everything was spinning too much.
"I... I don't feel so well..."
It was barely a whisper, and if the operation room weren't deadly silent, except for the monitors and the oxygenator, no one would've understood it. But Stephen's mind switched focus between the open brain in front of him and his girlfriend only two feet away. The constant switch was as smooth as it had always been, even though his brain screamed to stop working and to rush over to her. But he couldn't let go, not with the DeBakey forceps in this man's brain and near the last splinter of the broken bullet. Instead, his hand didn't move a single inch while he raised his gaze to stare over at YN.
"Keep on talking, darling. Talk to me. What's wrong?"
He needed to keep her conscious, and it always helped when he was calm and asked her questions she could easily answer. Just as he would do during one of her anxiety or panic attacks. He could see her blinking slowly, almost in slow-motion while her brain tried to keep up with his words, even though it would love to just blink out.
"Chest's hurting. My head... Everything's spinning. I... Stephen..."
And with that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she collapsed onto the sterile floor. He could hear instruments clattering on the floor, and Stephen didn't want to think about the possibility that her head had hit the instrument's tray.
"YN?!"
"Doctor LN!"
"Oh gosh, Doctor LN?"
"Get her some oxygen, god damn it!"
Suddenly, pure chaos dominated the operation room, and Stephen worked as fast as he could while shouting questions.
"Could somebody talk to me?!" He needed to know if she was okay. "Somebody needs to say something, or this entire room gets fired!" Stephen didn't care if he sounded like a maniac. "85/50. It's a wonder she held up for this long. Open wound at her right forehead, probably needs stitching. Doctor LN? YN, can you hear me?" The sound of snapping fingers was heard, but no answer. One of the nurses looked back at him, kneeing on the ground next to YN. "We'll bring her upstairs, Doctor Strange." He quickly looked up, straight into the nurse's face. "Make an x-ray of her lungs, a head CT to clear her of a concussion, and don't you dare let anyone other than Henderson stitch that. Page Doctor Palmer, she will see through with everything. And someone needs to page Chamberlain; we still have an open chest here." Shuffling was heard before the anesthesiologist spoke up right next to him. "Hamilton is on duty, sir," he reminded the neurosurgeon, but Stephen scoffed while slowly grabbing the bullet with the forceps. "I don't care if that accident of a surgeon is the fucking president of the United States. Get. Me. Chamberlain." YN would decapitate him with her bare hands if she learned about the fact that Hamilton had ruined hours of her hard, perfect work.
And with that, he returned to his job, mind still a bit out of tune with an unconscious YN being put on a gurney and pushed out of the room only several feet away from him.
He had never felt more helpless in his life.
Do your job, and you can look after her. Do your job, and you can sit next to her and wait for her to wake up. Everything will be okay, Stephen. Stop spiraling.
;
The familiar sounds of the hospital surrounded him, but Stephen almost didn't hear them, not since he had gotten the x-ray scans of YN's lungs and the CT of her head. His eyes were practically glued to the tablet screen in his hands, forearms resting on his knees and supporting the weight of his upper body. He couldn't sit straight anymore, nor could he stand, not since they had been left alone in the room YN now occupied in the cardiothoracic unit.
It had taken a long time until he got some peace and quietness minus the beeping sounds of the machines hooked up to his girlfriend because she always had been admired and loved by her colleagues. Everyone had wanted to come by and leave little cards full of Get well soon. If flowers were allowed, the room would probably be filled with them by now.
Rubbing his tired eyes, Stephen scanned the images of the CT another time - he had stopped counting an hour ago - and as all the times before that, he stared at the mild concussion caused by the metal table full of surgical instruments and the hit on the floor right after that. He had scheduled a second CT in about an hour because he had to be sure there wasn't any bleeding, as minor as it could be. He couldn't allow himself to miss it - it would not only end her career, but it could steal the love of his life right from under his eyes in the worst case.
And Stephen always measured in worst-case scenarios if it involved his girlfriend.
A nurse entered the room silently to replace the drip of antibiotics her body would've needed days ago, but better late than never, he guessed. He didn't acknowledge his presence at all - he wasn't in the mood for small talk or reassurances - so he left after checking his supervisor's vitals, and they were alone again.
Typing on the glass screen, the neurosurgeon made sure that the second head CT was indeed booked, even thinking about changing it to a CT with contrast indication, but Christine would probably kill him if she saw how he spiraled and put the tablet on the bedside table. Everything will be alright, he told himself, his hands rubbing over his face and through his now messy hair.
He just had rested his face in the palm of his hands as the sound of movements under the blanket pushed Stephen to look up again. A hoarse groan followed close, and instantly, the man raised from the chair and sat on the edge of the comfortable bed. His eyes took her face in, scanned it for any indication of a stroke everyone had missed out on, and gently held the hand who wasn't hooked up to the drip and heart monitor. Finally, YN's eyes opened slowly, and she blinked; another groan escaped her at the blinding light.
"YN," Stephen almost whispered and scooted a bit closer. A soft but questioning "Hm" was all he got for now, and his heart started to race in his chest; every stimulant responsible for the emotions of fear and panic distributed into his bloodstream, and his usually barely rising anxiety had its peak season with all the adrenaline rushing through is body. He couldn't think straight when it came to her. Never. So he started to caress her face with the tips of his fingers - starting right above her brow, down over her temples, and over her cheeks because he knew that it almost always tickled her, and she would scrunch up her nose. She did exactly that, but only barely noticeable. "YN, I need you to focus, darling. Can you squeeze my hands?" Stephen already held both her hands, and she squeezed them; softly at first, but with every passing second, her grip became tighter. "Okay. Good job, love. Can you feel this?" Stephen's hand had slipped under the blanket to stroke his fingertips over the soles of her feet, and her toes wiggled at the ticklish feeling.
A cough shook her body again before YN could open her mouth. "Could you please stop tickling a barely awake woman? That's socially considered as rude as fuck," her hoarse voice whispered, and Stephen instantly took her hand between his and pressed it against his still rapidly beating heart. "YN." Seemingly, his brain had lost its capacity because Stephen could only mumble her name. Relief rushed through him and counterattacked the adrenaline.
The woman opened her eyes, blinking, to look up at him. "Yeah, s'still my name." Her head throbbed, and she didn't want to know what had happened after her brain had decided to quit his job entirely. "Stop freaking out, Stephen, I'm alright." She tenderly squeezed one of his hands and had to sneeze as she realized the feeling of oxygen tickling the insides of her nose. "Y'all really went all out on me." Amusement was evident in her small voice, but Stephen couldn't laugh about it - and probably would never do.
"You scared the hell out of me, YNN."
Suddenly, she turned serious and beckoned him closer. The tired man obliged but wasn't prepared for her pulling his head onto her chest, but he didn't mind. It had always been his most favorite spot in the world. He felt safe. And cherished. And loved. YN's fingers carded through his hair, which just started to turn grey at his temples, but differently to him, she didn't want him to dye it, so he didn't get the at-home dye while getting the groceries last week.
It was strange what he would do for this woman. But at the same time, it wasn't, especially with the thought about that black velvety box hidden in his locker lingering in the back of his mind.
"I'm sorry, love," she whispered into his soft strands and kissed his head. "Wasn't my intention, really. Thought I'd be strong enough. Strong enough for my patient and strong enough for you." Now, he had to prop himself up on his arm to stare incredulously at the woman he loved more than anything. "I am sorry, but what?" YN shrugged and felt pitiful. "Y'know, you're this incredible man and surgeon, always perfect, always giving his entire being for his patients, and I need to keep up with that, so you won't leave me because you'd find a better, more perfect woman, and-..." He interrupted her nonsense by starting to pepper kisses over her face, except her lips. They didn't need another pneumonia in just a week or two. "Wherever those thoughts came from, you can send them back there, darling. Okay?" Slowly, YN nodded and closed her eyes with a sigh as Stephen pressed a lingering kiss to her still warm forehead.
"Can you show me the scans?"
He stayed close to her as his hand grabbed the tablet and opened her file. Stephen watched her as her eyes darted over every lab they had run, every x-ray image (which looked even worse than she had anticipated, but she couldn't change that anymore), and at last, she scanned the CT. "There is probably a second one coming, am I right?" He shrugged while she softly laughed under her breath and let the tablet sink onto the thickest blanket this hospital owned. "How long will you keep me locked away at our place, Doctor?" The Strange was still propped up on his arms, as close to her as possible without crashing her with his weight or putting too much pressure on her already hard-working lungs, and hummed, deep in thought. "With that much fluid and inflammation in your lungs and larynx? Not to mention the concussion?"
She rolled her eyes. "Please, it's a baby concussion."
Stephen cocked an eyebrow. "Ah, so now you're the world's best neurosurgeon?"
"Don't flatter yourself." She rolled her eyes. "That title can earn anyone, even you." YN hit his shoulder playfully, and a small grin tucked at her lips. An unbelieving but humored "Hmpf" escaped the surgeon before he turned serious again. "Back to the topic at hand. Until you're discharged, you will do whatever the staff is saying. You won't discharge yourself or medicate yourself." YN had already opened her mouth to say something, but Stephen only had to shake his head in one direction, and she closed it again. "Don't try to talk me out of it because I know you, YN LN." Now it was her turn to "Hmpf" in annoyance. "Anyway. After you're discharged, you will stay at home, catch up on all of your movies and shows, bake to your heart's desire, and recover. I don't have to tell you what pneumonia does to your lungs in the long run. You will have to strengthen them again, and that's exactly what you're gonna do, darling. Looking after yourself and taking care of your health and body because I need you a few more years longer."
A loving smile settled upon her tired face, and YN tenderly caressed his cheek with her knuckles. "So... You won't get tired of me just yet?" Stephen chuckled before pressing a kiss into the palm of her hand. "I am not quite sure if that's even a possibility, darling," he returned and kissed her palm a second and a third time, his mind always wandering back to his locker and the box he intended to show her on Christmas Eve because it was one of her favorite days of the entire year. Now, he would have to postpone everything he had planned.
It may be a small throwback, but it would still be perfect.
A soft knock at the doorframe moved the couple to look over and see a smiling Christine standing there. "Sleeping Beauty is awake and obviously fine, perfect. He drove me crazy in the last couple of hours." Stephen rose from his comfortable position and turned his head to his friend. "I wasn't that bad," he tried to defend himself, but now it was YN who scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, love." Then, looking at Christine, she continued: "He went all neurosurgeon-mode because I didn't jump on the bed right after the first blink. Thought my brain would be mush, and I'd be a lost cause." He never stood a chance against these two women, always calling him out and letting him face his flaws - which he never liked much.
"Whatever," he mumbled at the chuckle of his friend before turning back to the redhead. "Is the CT ready?" Christine nodded in approval, and right after that, a nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room.
With the most neutral expression on her face, which looked kind of pissed, YN changed looks with both doctors.
"I'm not gonna sit in that thing."
–
She arrived at the CT in said thing.
;
She felt soft pecks of even softer lips on her face, and she woke up to that feeling. Yawning, YN blinked up, and both arms fought a way out of the fluffy blanket cocoon she had wrapped herself into to circle them around Stephen's neck.
Ever since her discharge two weeks ago, she had been a good patient, an excellent one, to be quite honest. She never overdid it, always respecting the new boundaries her still recovering lungs had set for her and always listening to the doctors. Well, more like listening to Stephen because he was the one doctor she trusted the most.
"You're early again," the woman mumbled against the skin of his neck, where her face was securely tucked away, and YN could feel his lips on her skin once again. "I told you how this would go. Do my promises mean so little to you?" Grinning, she shrugged and let him sit her up on the comfortable couch she fell asleep on while watching a random news channel.
Apparently, the Avengers were back in the city, and YN desperately hoped she didn't need to drive detours on end just because they thought it would be a great idea to stroll around town, so idiotic humans could form crowds at the glimpse of one of them.
Shaking her head, the woman pushed her fingers through his hair that had acquired a few more grey patches, which she secretly admired every day. "It's just that I know you, Stephen, and I know your workaholic tendencies are just as bad as mine." YN kissed the cold tip of his nose and accepted the cup of tea he had grabbed from the coffee table. "Did you take your meds?" She nodded proudly. "Yup. And the throbbing is finally gone without an Advil." That concussion had been a constant pain in her ass.
Stephen smiled one of his satisfied smiles and kissed her forehead while standing up again. "Well, with that out of the way..." He scooped her up into his arms, and YN squealed-laughing the entire way into the open kitchen, where the Strange sat her on top of the kitchen island. The delicious smell of her favorite food and restaurant wafted through the air, and she took a deep breath without feeling the urge to cough her lungs out. "You seriously drove through the entire city to get me Don Angie's?"
Usually, the expensive Italian restaurant located in Greenwich Village didn't do take-out, but for a selected group of people - people with the right numbers on their checks - they tend to loosen their rules. But well, this very household had a reservation minimum once a month, so they probably were already considered family.
Stephen smiled at the joy he brought into his girlfriend's eyes and started to unpack the containers full of food and dessert. "For you, darling? Always." Scooting over the marble countertop, YN grabbed Stephen's wrist to pull him between her sweatpants-clad legs - his sweatpants, to be precise - and cupped his handsome face with both hands. Her nose softly brushed against his, and Stephen sighed, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning his forehead against hers. "Can I marry you? Will you marry me?" Her question was nothing but a soft whisper, and he had to tear open his eyes to stare into her face, with that knowing smile he almost dreaded to see in such a context. "You really thought it would be a great idea to hide it here when I have almost the whole day to myself?"
He seriously didn't think about that before he took the black velvety box out of his locker because he only had thought about the practicability of it staying at their apartment. He wouldn't have to drive to the hospital to get it if he would've decided to propose to YN spontaneously. And now, he had ruined the surprise with his own hands.
Great.
Scrunching up his face, Stephen groaned and let his forehead sink back against hers as he felt both of her hands carding through his hair again, trying to soothe him. "I didn't open it if that takes something off that disappointment, love," YN whispered and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You didn't?" He had to be sure that at least something of that surprise was still viable. Her head shake was answer enough, and he took a deep breath. "Well, it wasn't a total surprise, now, was it? I think the direction this relationship took off after we moved in together was almost painfully clear or is it just me?"
Maybe it was all in his head, and YN never had the intention to settle down with him, being the smartest couple in medicine, maybe starting a family, growing old together. Maybe it was all just his silly little idea, but never hers.
YN sighed softly at the look on his face, and she could almost feel his spiraling thoughts running havoc inside his overthinking mind. That's why she took his chin between her fingers and forced him to open his eyes again. "It's not only in your head, Stephen. It never was. We may have never talked about it in detail, but the allusion was always there. Our conversation about looking for something more... comfortable, less statement? I would have never brought up the topic of this-", she pointed from her to him, "-wouldn't be a one-way ticket for me. And it is a one-way ticket because I don't need a return ticket. Kids, pets, a life just with the two of us - I don't care as long as you're in it, Stephen Vincent Strange."
He needed to blink in order to keep those foolish tears at bay. Instead, he dove for a deep kiss, so full of love, respect, and adoration that it almost blew his mind.
"You’ll get a proper proposal, darling," he promised, lips still connected and words muffled by it, but YN understood him clear as day. "I hope so because you're the overachiever in this relationship and need to outdo Marc." Grinning at the thought of Stephen's future victorious smile, she kissed him again before squinting over to the food. "I love your kisses, but I'm hungry. Could we do dessert first? On the couch? I'd love some cuddles after five long hours without my personal doctor to fulfill every single of my needs and wishes." One last time, Stephen bent down to kiss her before opening the containers with almost every dessert on the menu and her strolling back to the couch to make space for him between all the pillows and blankets.
"I am not your butler."
But he shouted the words with a smile on his face and one thought on his mind: Life could never turn to the worst with her in it.
Thank you so much for reading! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3
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Malicious Compliance // Surgeon Strange x Reader
Masterlist | Request a Fic
Summary: After a brief meeting with the world renowned neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange, he plans to make you his latest conquest. He’s only interested in one thing, but that’s okay, because so are you. (female reader)
Word Count: 4.6K
Warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, pre-sorcerer Strange (arrogant, cocky). Smut: no strings attached, dominance & praise, oral sex (receiving), light choking, unprotected sex (sort of?). Readers must be 18+
A/N: Just a quick lil oneshot for you all. I literally thought of this today and the whole thing poured out of me in one sitting lmao. I like it though, hope you guys do too!
His eyes are glaciers. Cold, hard, yet always moving. They flit towards the window, sunlight turning them the crispest blue, then back down to the notebook on the table in front of him. They warm slightly when he looks over to Doctor Palmer, roll languidly whenever Doctor West speaks. But in the end, they always seem to settle back on you.
He’s as hubristic as you’d expected; leant back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, taking up as much space as his body will allow. He corrects a colleague when they call him Stephen. It’s Doctor Strange, he says, voice so deep and rich it’s almost tangible.
He watches as you press your finger to the inner corner of your eye, trying to rub away the tired itch beginning to take root there. You wonder how offended he’d be if he knew you fell asleep reading one of his published papers last night, how you woke up in your hotel room this morning with your cheek pressed to page seventeen of The Strange Palmer Method. It would make his blood boil, you think, to know his work had been used as a pillow. You resist the urge to tell him.
Coffee burns the roof of your mouth. You wince and place the cup back down on the boardroom table, sift through the pile of papers in front of you as the room waits for you to speak again.
“Honey,” says Doctor Strange.
“I’m sorry?” you reply.
He points to your mouth. “It’ll help with that burn.”
You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh I didn’t- It was just a little warmer than I expected. Thanks, though.”
The corner of his mouth curls and he turns to look down the length of the table, the flecks of silver at his temple catching in the light.
You clear your throat as you find the document you were looking for. “So, pending approval from the ABMS, we would like to roll out training for the Strange Palmer Method in all of our hospitals.”
“What about my new technique for stent placement?” asks Doctor West.
“Oh please, Nic,” Strange scoffs. “We’re talking about actual revolutionary surgical procedures here.”
Doctor West’s back straightens, you open your mouth to speak but he gets there first.
“Excuse me, my stent technique could drastically cut down the amount of time a patient’s brain is open on the table! Do you even realise-”
“Mhm, why don’t you go win some awards and make national news, then maybe we can talk.”
Doctor Palmer’s head falls into her hands as the other surgeons groan and shift uncomfortably in their seats. You’ve met your fair share of asshole surgeons in this job; travelling up and down the country stroking egos and exalting god complexes. But this man sitting across from you is, without a doubt, the victor of them all.
“The stent technique is very interesting,” you say, easing the tension in the room. “But we would need to see the results of a study or trial of some kind before taking it any further.”
“Very diplomatic of you,” says Strange.
“Not diplomatic. I just know a promising procedure when I see it.”
“Hm. Are you a doctor?”
Your gaze turns to a glare. “I am.”
“Where do you practice?”
“I don’t anymore. My job is to keep other doctors at the top of their game. Hence why I’m here right now with all of you.”
He’s almost smirking, head cocked slightly, twiddling a pen between his fingers. It’s fitting, you think, to see a surgeon take such pleasure in getting under people’s skin.
You hate that you find him attractive. That you’ve managed to fall victim to a charm buried so deep beneath layers of pure arrogance that you have to dig to find it. If he wasn’t so beautiful on the outside, you’re almost certain you wouldn’t bother fighting to find something redeemable within. But the way your body reacts to him; the warmth, the buzzing deep in your belly, it must be there.
The meeting finishes and you remain at the table, straightening the wad of papers in front of you and slotting them back into your binder as everyone filters out of the room. When you’re alone, you stand and walk to the large window, taking a moment to gaze out at the view. Your eyes skim New York City, admiring the blend of old and new; small stone buildings wedged between tall skyscrapers, the late afternoon sun glinting across metal and glass, pockets of green peppered amongst brick and mortar. You wish you got to come here more often.
You pick up your briefcase and drape your jacket over your arm as you make your way out of the boardroom. The corridor is bright and quiet, but the bustling of the hospital is a low hum. You close the door behind you and begin to walk, unfazed by the sight of a figure leaning against the wall up ahead.
His arms are folded over his broad chest, dark blue scrubs doing little for his tall, robust frame. His legs are crossed at the ankles as he rests his weight back against the wall, head stooped slightly, but his eyes are on you.
“Doctor Strange,” you say with a polite nod as you continue past him.
He smiles, allows you to pass, but you feel him move behind you.
“You don’t really think Doctor West’s procedure holds any merit?” he asks, catching up to walk at your side.
“I do.” You furrow your brow. “You don’t think there’s merit in improving the efficiency of existing surgeries?”
He shrugs. “Just not all that exciting when you compare it to what I’m doing.”
“You mean what you and Doctor Palmer are doing…”
There’s a chuckle deep in his throat, like he enjoys the back and forth, watching his opponents fight for their lives while to him it’s just a sparring match. He quickens his pace to slip in front of you, turning to face you and forcing you to halt in the middle of the corridor.
“Be honest,” he says. “You’re impressed.”
“Of course we’re impressed. Why else would the board have sent me here?”
“No I mean you, specifically.”
You glare up at him, hiding your amusement with an eye roll. “Yes, Doctor,” you say slowly, your words empty and biting. “I am very impressed.”
His cupid’s bow deepens as his lips curve into a self satisfied smile, lines forming in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He knows you find him infuriating, but it only seems to encourage him. There’s a moment of silence, long enough for his gaze to trail the length of you, just once.
“You know, I’d love to talk more with you about it,” he says, looking down at his obviously expensive watch. “Maybe over dinner. Have you eaten?”
You draw in a deep breath through your nose, letting it out in a sigh as you begin to speak. “I don’t need your superficial attempts to woo me, Doctor.” You reach into your briefcase and pull out a pen and a business card, scrawling on the back of it and handing it to him. “This is where I’m staying. Come by around eight.”
You’re certain he’s going to protest, pretend he actually wants to go to dinner, talk, that he was ever interested in anything that didn’t involve the removal of your clothes. You wait in suspense as his eyes flit down to the card in his hand, then back up to your face.
“I prefer to fuck in my own bed,” he says bluntly.
A wave crashes in your stomach, rushing down into your core, the sensation so strong and unexpected that your knees almost buckle. This isn’t the first time one of your work trips has ended in you going home with a surgeon, but the way this one doesn’t try to feign the ‘nice guy’, doesn’t pretend to want anything more from you than your body, that’s new.
“Unless I’m on vacation, of course,” he adds with a cocky smile.
“Of course…”
He flips the card over and plucks the pen from your hand. You watch as he scribbles on it and hands it back to you.
“So this is where I’ll be tonight,” he says. “You said eight works for you?”
You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, unsure if you’ve ever met anyone as imperious as this. You slip the card into your pocket and move to walk past him, stopping as your shoulders brush and looking up at him.
“I hope your dick is as inflated as your ego.”
He smirks to himself, remaining quiet as you continue to walk away.
Your skirt is riding up your backside. You reach back to yank it down for the hundredth time before pressing the buzzer on the wall of the apartment building. The setting sun is just a glow beneath the horizon but the streets are still busy, the air warm with a pleasant breeze. You lean back to stare up at the building, the mirrored windows stretching so high you can’t see an end to them. You wonder which one is his.
There’s a scratching sound on the intercom, followed by a deep voice. “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” you say, glancing over your shoulders as if you’re on some kind of secret mission, scared of being seen.
He doesn’t speak again, instead there’s a quick buzz followed by the click of the heavy front door. You let yourself inside, heels clacking against the glossy marble floor as you hurry towards the elevators. When the doors slide open, you pull out your business card, punch in the floor number he’d scrawled in the bottom corner. It begins to ascend, making your already swirling stomach turn.
You pull down the back of your skirt again as you step out into the hall, peering down the length of it in search of his apartment. The door is tall and wide, dark timber and a heavy metallic handle. You knock but your knuckles barely make a sound, the dense wood swallowing the echo.
Still, he comes. You regard him quietly as you step inside, the snug sweater and tailored jeans, a pair of sneakers making you feel entirely overdressed. He’s already grinning; a smug, confident smile that reignites the ire in your chest. You ignore him and walk further in, eyes wide in awe at the vast, industrial space.
You walk over to the window that stretches the length of the apartment, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, framing a perfect snapshot of the city.
“Now I understand why you make the women come to you,” you say.
“Hm?”
“This place. It’s impressive.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “That’s the point, right? You like to impress. To show off.”
He laughs quietly and makes his way to the kitchen area, opening the extensive liquor cabinet. “You want something to drink?”
“I have rules,” you say abruptly, turning around to face him from across the echoey room.
He straightens. “Go on…”
“Nothing that happens here can be used for any type of professional leverage, good or bad, by either of us.”
“Of course-”
“This isn’t a date. I don’t spend the night, I don’t keep in touch, I don’t call when I’m back in town so we can do this again. This is just tonight. And it’s just sex. Understood?”
“Understood.” He returns to the cabinet and takes out a bottle. “So, about that drink…”
You’re already gone, wandering off through a door at the rear of the apartment in search of the bedroom.
You find it. It’s a dark, cave-like space, large curtains draped across another huge window, only the faintest glow of the sunset fighting through the fabric. It’s clinical, just as you’d expect from a surgeon; sleek furniture void of any clutter or knick knacks, exposed brick walls with the occasional piece of art - no photographs. There’s a full length mirror, a small couch, and a bed so large you could sink into it and disappear. You wonder just how many women have delved beneath those sheets before you.
He appears in the doorway, looking you up and down. “You’re eager, little one,” he teases.
You roll your eyes, watching as he closes the door behind him and approaches you. You reach up to touch him, to kiss him, but instead he takes your wrists in his hands and lowers them back to your sides.
“Mm, not yet.”
You scoff in dispute, eyes following him as he strolls across the room and switches on the wall sconces, illuminating the area above the bed in a dim, warm light.
“Look,” you say. “If you’re just going to mess with me then-”
“Well actually, after you left the hospital this afternoon, I got called to consult on a patient and ended up having to stay late. I just got home around fifteen minutes before you knocked on my door. So if you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower first. Is that alright with you?” he finishes sarcastically.
You settle down, composing yourself and relaxing your shoulders. “Of course.”
“Make yourself comfortable.”
He pushes open a door to the right and you catch a glimpse of the luxurious, marbled master bathroom as he steps inside. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone again. You stand there for a moment, listening to him whistling to himself, his belt buckle unfastening and hitting the floor. Water bursts from the shower, the sound like soft static, and you immediately rush over to the mirror.
You examine yourself carefully; fix your hair, press your nose to your skin and clothes, shift your underwear so it sits smoothly and undetectable beneath your skirt. Then you sit down at the foot of the bed, knee bouncing impatiently. You change your mind shortly after, moving to the small couch opposite the bed instead.
Ten minutes or so pass, but it feels like an eternity. You picture him drawing it out on purpose, working the lather into his skin one section at a time, scrubbing at his hair for much longer than necessary, just to make you sweat. The water shuts off and you listen to him singing to himself, the hum of his voice through the door. When the door finally opens, steam escapes into the bedroom, the rich smell of citrus and cedar filling the air as he walks out, still humming quietly.
You glance over at him, mouth falling open slightly to find him completely naked, your gaze falling immediately to the pronounced length hanging from his body as he pads across the room. You look away quickly, rolling your eyes and huffing with indignation. Of course he’s naked, you think, he likes to spar, and you’ve willingly stepped into the ring.
Droplets sit on his shoulders and roll down his torso as he moves around the bed. He climbs on and lays down right in the middle, hands resting behind his head, propped up slightly on the headboard. His hair is still damp, half-coiffed, the grey at his temples darker than it was before. His body is solid, the mystery beneath the scrubs now revealed to you in all its glory. His arms are thick as they flex either side of his head, divots of muscle creating shadows across his torso, cock resting proudly on his thigh as he parts his legs in wait. He’s exquisite, and you can’t help but bask in the sight.
“So,” he says casually. “Are you just going to stay over there looking at me? Or are you going to come and sit on my face?”
You glare at him, unamused.
“What?” he shrugs gently. “You’re the one that said this was strictly sex. Forgive me for abiding by your rules.”
“There’s a word for that, you know,” you reply. “Malicious compliance.”
“Mm, is it really malicious if I’m offering to eat you out?”
“Depends how good you are at it.”
“Come here and find out.” There’s no humour in his tone, but it’s still playful, like he’s goading you.
You stand up and take a step towards the bed.
“Clothes,” he demands.
You stop, pressing your lips together tightly. His eyes never leave you, remaining locked on yours as you kick off your shoes and untuck your top from the waistband of your skirt.
“They should study you,” you say.
“Study me?”
“Yeah.” You lift your top over your head and throw it to the floor, reaching down to unzip your skirt. “Look into how one singular person could possibly be such an ass.”
“Clearly there’s a part of you that likes it, y’know, since you’re here… taking your clothes off for me.”
“What can I say? I’m partial to a surgeon. Think it’s the hands.”
The skirt pools at your feet and you step out of it, extending your arms as if to say ‘ta da’. He smiles.
No one has ever looked at you like this. So intense, like he’s studying every inch; relishing in every freckle and blemish, every curve and crease, mapping out the places he plans to touch, taste, explore.
You continue towards him but he raises his palm, halting you again. “You haven’t finished,” he says.
You glance down at yourself, then back up to him, letting out a grumbling sigh as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. It pops open, the release of pressure on your skin as soothing as a deep breath. His gaze darkens as you slide the straps off your shoulders, watching your nipples harden as you reveal your bare breasts to him.
“These too?” you ask, hooking your thumbs into the waistline of your underwear.
“Mhm.”
You take them off as gracefully as you can, shimmying them over your hips and thighs and kicking them away. His cock is hardening, swelling and rising towards his stomach. Your mouth twitches with a triumphant smile, but you suppress it as you climb onto the bed, crawling up to meet him.
You lean down and press your lips to his, feeling your skin prick, arousal kindling in your core. His mouth is smart, but it’s also divine. The feeling intensifies, spreading through your belly and pounding between your legs as you sweep your tongue into his open mouth, feel his restraint wavering as your hot breaths mingle. You let your chest press against his, the feeling of skin on skin making you burn with need.
You bring a hand up to his face, he brings his to your throat, bracketing it gently and peeling his mouth from yours.
“I didn’t tell you to kiss me,” he says quietly. “I told you to sit on my face.”
You pull back a little more, making eye contact, breathless as a million comebacks shutter through your mind. But in the end you say nothing, letting out a soft huff and slowly shifting your body up the bed.
You hold the top of the extravagant headboard with both hands and swing one leg over him, straddling his shoulders as his fingers reach up behind you to the small of your back. His touch is electric, lips searing as they plant a kiss on your inner thigh. A soft whimper escapes you in a breath, as though anticipation is its own foreplay.
He wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth. Your grip tightens on the headboard, fingernails digging into the soft, cushiony fabric as he parts his lips against your centre, sucking softly on your already throbbing clit. Your head falls back when his tongue drags up the length of your slit, moulding itself to every pucker and groove, lapping you up like he adores you, and you wonder how many women have fallen for him in these moments.
You groan quietly, closing your eyes as you focus on the flicks and strokes of his tongue, the sucking and swirling, the hums deep in his throat and he devours you. Your clit is sensitive, making you shudder, the pleasure so intense you can barely stand it. Your body raises up instinctively, but he tightens his hold on you, spitting on your clit and returning his mouth to the place that both aches and sings, somehow at the same time.
You gasp in response, eyelids fluttering as you swear under your breath. He releases one of your thighs and you glance over your shoulder to see his hand wrapping around his cock. He begins to stroke it forcefully, working himself to the rhythm of his mouth, and you almost fall to pieces.
“Oh my god,” you moan, slumping forward and pressing your forehead to the headboard.
Your thighs clamp around his head, but it only spurs him on, making him bury his face deeper, and you can’t remember the last time he came up for air.
“I can’t,” you whisper.
The nerves in your clit are screaming, dancing on the precipice between pain and pleasure. He continues to lap at your centre, pushing you to the edge until you’re clinging on for dear life. Pressure swells in your core, flooding you with a tingling heat that softens your bones and turns you to liquid. Until finally you’re there, falling, melting.
He growls as your body begins to shake, working his tongue over you one last time before releasing you from his grasp. You collapse next to him, sliding down the pillows until you’re lying at his side. You’re breathless, chest rising and falling heavily as you stare up at the ceiling.
He rolls onto his side to face you. “You’re quiet when you come,” he says, placing a kiss into the crook of your neck, another at the dip of your collarbone.
“I’ve spent the past two years practically living in hotel rooms,” you reply. “I’ve learned to be inconspicuous.”
“Hm.” He props himself up on his forearm and leans over you, his other hand trailing softly down the side of your body. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”
Before you can reply, he’s kissing you. His mouth is slick, it tastes of you. Your body is spent, limbs heavy, yet still you find it responding to his touch. He shifts further onto you, spreading your legs with his hands and settling himself between them. You can feel his cock nudging your centre as he rocks his hips, sliding along the soaking wet mess he left there and brushing his head over your clit. It’s sensitive, raw, makes you gasp. But he swallows the sound with a heady kiss.
He’s big. Thick. Hard. Maybe that’s where he stores his arrogance. He continues to tease you, soaking himself in the mix of spit and slick as he wraps his hands around your neck, kisses you so deeply you can feel him drawing a moan from your throat.
He pulls away and looks down at you for a moment. “Condom?” he asks casually.
You’re on the pill. Have been since you were seventeen. But still, you know you should say yes. Yesterday, this man was a stranger; a face you only knew from TV and the medical articles you’d read.
“No.” You shake your head and reach down, gripping his cock and directing it into you.
He chuckles, the sound deep and low. “What a good girl.”
You sigh as he teases at your entrance, pushing the head of his cock in and out but never breaking all the way through.
“Were you thinking about this today in the meeting?” he taunts softly.
You groan and buck your hips, desperate for him to take you.
He eases back slightly and tuts. “I saw you squirming in your seat. How hot and flustered you got when I looked at you. Tell me how much you wanted this.”
“What I wanted,” you begin quietly. “Was to wring your neck.”
The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Really…”
“Really.”
He squeezes his fingers gently around your throat and you exhale softly. The desire is almost painful, your core throbbing, pussy aching.
“Funny how things work out,” he says.
You let out a stifled moan as he sinks into you, filling you so completely you’re certain you can’t take it.
“That’s it,” he mutters as he looks down, watching his cock disappear all the way to the hilt.
You whimper and tighten around him. He sucks the air in through his teeth, returning his gaze to your eyes with a mischievous smile.
“I’m gonna need you to not do that,” he says. “You’ll have me finishing in seconds.”
“Are you telling me the great Doctor Stephen Strange lacks self discipline?” You contract your walls again, this time on purpose.
He bows, forehead resting on your chest, and growls deep in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, without warning, he draws his hips back and buries himself in you again. You gasp, fingers digging into the blades of his shoulders as he repeats his thrusts, building to a firm, steady rhythm.
A small cry escapes you; a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. He hums in response, keeping you pinned to the bed with his hands around your neck as he snaps his hips, punishing you from the inside out.
“Wrap those legs around my back,” he demands.
You do as you’re told, locking your ankles and gasping as he sinks further, the head of his cock kissing the deepest parts of you and sending jolts of pure electricity through your stomach.
“You’re going to break me,” you whisper.
“Not this time. Maybe later,” he replies, still so arrogant it makes you want to reach up and slap him.
But your hands are stuck to his back, nails digging into the smooth, taut flesh. Another unfamiliar sound falls from your lips, somewhere between a grunt and a hum. He likes it, you can tell in the way he closes his eyes to compose himself.
“Jesus,” he hisses.
His movements begin to stutter and he rests his forehead against yours. You feel his cock throbbing, your pussy growing wetter until it’s dripping. He lets out a long, satisfied groan and begins to slow down, every rock of his hips like the promise of another climax.
“Don’t stop,” you whisper desperately. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.”
He doesn’t open his eyes, but still he obliges; continuing to stroke into you as you squirm beneath him.
“Oh god,” you groan. “Harder. I need- harder.”
He grunts, screwing his eyes shut tightly, and begins pounding his cock into you with such force you can feel your body shifting up the mattress. You know he already came, you know how sensitive he must be. But somehow, knowing that makes this all the more delicious.
The electricity builds again, every thrust like a lightning strike through your core. Your legs begin to shake and you finally let go, giving in to the current and letting it course through you. Your orgasm is intense, sharp and tingly, making you shudder, body stiffening until it passes.
He slows to a stop, resting his full weight on top of you. You welcome the pressure, like a weighted blanket; warm and grounding, soothing the ache beginning to settle in your limbs.
After a few moments, he slides out of you carefully, rolling over to lie at your side. “You want that drink now?” he asks.
Hair sticks to your forehead with sweat, you brush it back, sucking in deep breaths as you stare up at the ceiling. “No, I’m good.”
Silence envelops you, neither one of you speaking again until your hearts stop thumping.
“So… I guess this means you’re going to approve the training for my method,” he says.
You turn your head, glaring at him in stunned silence.
“I’m kidding,” he says with a smile, greatly amusing himself.
“God, surgeons are assholes,” you mutter.
#doctor strange#doctor strange fanfiction#doctor strange smut#doctor strange x you#doctor strange x reader#stephen strange fanfiction#stephen strange smut#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange x you#stephen strange#surgeon strange#benedict cumberbatch#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#smut writing#lemon#Doctor strange oneshot
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underrated stephen maturin thing is when sailors get convinced the ship is haunted and/or cursed and he goes and performs exorcisms to calm them down. he does it at least twice and i think it’s a really funny thing to add to his CV. physician, naturalist, polyglot, cryptographer, cellist, sometime exorcist. truly who is doing it like him.
#put that man in a horror movie he wouldn’t even notice#There’s a joke to be made here with the exorcist book/movie but I can’t find it#more seriously I think he’s got a really interesting relationship with his faith#i wish it had been elaborated on more#the way he’s more visibly religious - visibly Catholic - after Surgeon’s Mate gets to me#it’s an integral part of who he is#and clearly has shaped him significantly in ways he’s not fully aware of (though admittedly that goes for a lot of things with him lol)#stephen maturin#aubreyad
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riding high
find part one here
Initially you hadn't wanted to go to this silly gala with Stephen. After turning out it hasn't been such a bad idea to join him after all, you find yourself being rewarded greatly.
Pairing: Surgeon!Stephen Strange x Male Reader
Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), rough sex, semi-public (kind of), unprotected, mentions of social anxiety
A/N: we follow stephen and you, his surgical assistant, figuring out the logistics of fucking in a lamborghini huracan (which is harder than you might think)
"Come to that gala with me", Strange requested, both of you fresh out of an unspectacular surgery, shedding the contaminated layers of hospital wear into the nearby laundry bin, in desperate need of slipping into a pair of new scrubs.
Today wasn't the first time he approached you about it.
He had been nagging you about this for a while now – ever since he had first received the invitation to said event weeks ago – and still wasn't letting it rest, even though you had repeatedly told him off, suggesting that he should just ask Christine instead of you. It wouldn't be an issue if he'd just take her. She'd probably even agree to it, because she was your mutual friend.
But Stephen wouldn't let it go, his stubbornness and persistence reaching heights you hadn't expected from him, unwavering in his relentless insistence, unable to accept your 'No', refusing to ask Christine or anyone that wasn't you.
He just wouldn't stop asking, relying on the same explanation every time: you were the only one he wanted to go with.
So there you were again, with the same dilemma and question between you as before.
Only because you denied his offer times and times again, didn't mean you did not want to go. You would have loved to go with the surgeon. It was flattering that he was inviting you along, that he did not want to choose anyone that wasn't you, that he was so insistent on it. It was Stephen's way of showing you that you were important to him, even if it was beginning to be a little obnoxious.
Though he was admittedly better at this whole dating thing than you would have thought.
Stephen was keen on having date nights, when you both could make the time, and even when your schedules were all over the place, obnoxiously full, he tried to shove in a moment for you, may it just be a trip to the vending machines of the ER late at night or going for a coffee in the cafeteria.
The few times you'd managed to go out together, Stephen was unafraid of displaying affection publicly, holding your hand every now and then. He didn't keep your status secretive, unashamed that he was dating a surgical assistant. Whenever staff members, relatives of patients or even patients themselves made advances on him, Stephen was making it clear he was unavailable.
On top of that, you were having amazing sex, at home and a little more often than allowed at the hospital. You were certain at least ten people from the staff had almost had the pleasure of walking in on you, while two of your closer colleagues most definitely had found you in promising positions. There hadn't been a complaint filed to the board yet and you wanted to keep it that way, but something was just so thrilling about abusing Stephen's office, the locker rooms or like that one time, the operating table itself.
But regardless of how unashamed both Stephen and you were admitting to your relationship status, regardless how much you would have liked to go with him, you kept denying the invitation for a very specific reason.
You were scared.
It was an entirely different thing to be seen with Doctor Stephen Strange in the public eye at an event of such importance. A proper gala, with important figures present, people that were either significant in the medical world or held high positions all around the country, people that earned a lot of money and spent their resources on expensive shit, more people on the same level as Stephen.
There would be reporters, cameras – and no doubt a shit-ton of people that would judge a renowned surgeon for not showing up with a pretty lady on his arm but with someone like you, who was in fact nothing like a pretty lady. Because you were ordinary, and on top of that a man.
You didn't even know why you cared about Stephen's reputation so much all of the sudden, but you were afraid of putting shame to his name, to his status, to his face.
"You know I can't go with you", you sighed, preparing to give him the usual response, "I know it's tomorrow night already and chances of getting someone else to join you now will be... relatively low, that's why I've told you to ask anyone but me. I know it's important for you to be there, but you cannot take me there as your date. It would be wrong for me to be there. As I have told you at least ten times."
“I don't understand why you don't wanna come", Stephen spoke, adding your name so softly like hearing it alone was enough to convince you, and he sounded a little more desperate than before. Still not giving up though. "It'll be nice. Come on. I'll owe you."
"Because, Stephen, they will probably just judge me for being there. I mean, showing up with you? Infamous, handsome, top neurosurgeon Stephen Strange. What did I do to possibly deserve being seen with you?", you responded with a huff, certain that everyone at that gala would just look upon you with a frown – you were neither a wealthy doctor nor a flashy person suited for the public eye, just a plain surgical assistant, someone who didn't fit in with the high society.
Of course, some of your fear stemmed from being gay too. You doubted most people even knew that Stephen Strange was bisexual, let alone that he was actively pursuing something with a younger man.
What if that would land in some trashy magazine? You would rather not turn into a hot topic for a newspaper article, and sure as hell did not want to be the reason for outing Stephen publicly.
"Who cares about what they think? I want you there and that's good enough", the doctor spoke, the look on his face oddly soft, taking a closer step to you as he noticed your self-consciousness gnawing on you, "We'll drive there, exchange some pleasantries, listen to the speeches. I'll give my speech, we'll have dinner, then some people will probably introduce their research projects, and the rest will be social mingling, which is however optional. We can leave at any point by then."
"What if you'll be... what if people will talk about you negatively? Me being there with you? I'm not exactly some pretty girl to show off", you asked, wanting to avoid having this conversation, especially now that Stephen was being even more stubborn, most certainly as you were noticing you were closer to giving in.
The only saving grace was that you would have to get going in a bit to prepare the room and tools for the next surgery.
"Don't tell me you've started caring about my reputation now", Stephen scoffed, grabbing you by the waist to pull you in, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, "It doesn't matter, idiot. I want you there and I can come with whoever I fucking want. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'll be happy to show you off, because I bet you look great in a suit and I can count myself lucky for being accompanied by someone who truly sees me for me.”
"Great, you're making me all soft again", you sighed, clearly affected by the sweet words Stephen was feeding him right now, leaning into his embrace to lay your head against his shoulder, "Even if I'm gonna go with you, how am I even supposed to get a suit until tomorrow?"
"Does that mean you'll come?", Stephen murmured, pressing his face into your hair. You couldn't ignore the sudden glee radiating from him at your last comment and felt him relax his hold around you.
"Yeah, fine. I'll join you", you agreed hesitantly, holding onto the man for a moment longer. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad as long as Stephen was with you. It was assuring to know he didn't mind showing you off, didn't mind being seen with another man, didn't care so much about others opinions. Nothing else seemed to matter, if it just meant he could be there with you.
He'd been holding onto this request for so long now and had never stopped trying (mostly also because his ego wouldn't accept defeat), that you figured you could do him the favor. You were interested in going with him after all and even though there were things you were worried about, Stephen at your side would give you the assurance and comfort you needed.
"Then let me worry about getting you a suit", the doctor assured you.
Once he parted from you, you saw the broad smile on Stephen's face and decided it had been a good decision to agree after all.
×
It will be fine, was the mantra you kept repeating inside of your head.
Usually you would have felt insecure about showing up anywhere in a suit, an expensive one at that (it really had cost a fortune, even though not specifically tailored to your body), but Stephen had made it his personal mission to point out how handsome you looked ever since seeing you in it for the first time.
You almost dared to believe him.
Though Christine had said so too while she had helped you getting ready for the big occasion, like the good friend she was. Initially, she had been surprised by your sudden change of heart, now that you had agreed to join Stephen as a plus one to the gala after refusing him again and again. But then she had just expressed how genuinely happy she was about you jumping over your own shadow, a certain excitement sticking to her.
You honestly weren't sure who she was truly happier for. You, for having stepped out of your shell and decided to go with the surgeon? Or for Stephen, being able to go with the one person he had wanted to join him from the very beginning?
Or perhaps she was just happy for herself, not having to endure both of her insufferable friends talking about this subject anymore.
Maybe she'd been right too. Everything would be fine.
So far, it was – you looked quite presentable in your suit and were just now casually chatting with Stephen as the man sped over the highway leading upstate.
Yet there was this tiny bit of anxiety you couldn't seem to get rid of, probably feeling a lot more nervous than the surgeon, which made him feel ridiculous all the same.
Stephen would have had a far better reason for being nervous (though not seeming fazed in the slightest), since he was supposed to give a speech this evening – all you had to do was smile, be a supportive partner, and not crumble under the amount of skeptical looks crossing your way. Oh, and maybe not embarrass yourself or him publicly.
"It will be fine", Stephen tried to reassure you once more, noticing you nervously shifting in your seat, and placed his right hand on your thigh, eyes fixed on the road. He was trying to keep you grounded with his touch, knowing that while you had nerves of steel in the OR, you could get a bit anxious outside of work for the most ridiculous reasons. "You know I will read anyone to filth who dares to speak a wrong word or shares a dirty look."
"Oh, aren't you just my knight in shining armor", you spoke, attempting to make a joke in order to seem a little more careless about the situation, though you couldn't play your own nervousness down entirely. You couldn't fool him at least.
Stephen kept his hand placed on your thigh, gently caressing it for a moment, and decelerated the car, driving a little slower than he had probably been planning to, allowing the two of you a bit more time in the safe space of the car.
You were still busy trying to convince yourself that it would be fine as Stephen pulled into the parking lot of the convention center.
The sheer amount of cars already present, but especially the flock of people waiting upfront at the entrance, made you want to turn back home immediately. There was a part of you that was wanting to lock yourself inside of the car and wait out the event.
But you didn't dare to disappoint him now, you wanted to do this for him, and let yourself be helped out of the car by him, instead of bolting the doors shut when you good. Stephen offered you his arm like a true gentleman, giving you another assuring and gentle smile. Not flashy, like he would no doubt give the cameras later. Genuine. Sweet. The type that meant to say Don't worry, I got you.
The anxiety followed you all the way towards the entrance, where the two of you merged with other groups of people waiting to get inside, meaning the first few were going to catch a look and pictures were going to be taken and...
It honestly was a mystery to you how Stephen's presence alone enabled you to stay sane enough to go through all of it without freaking out entirely, but it did.
If people talked, they luckily did so out of earshot. If they looked funnily at you, you didn't really notice, because instead of nervously looking around, you tried to keep your gaze fixed on Stephen. If they were judging your person, they were going to do so anyways and he had been right to tell you that it was something that simply shouldn't concern you.
Stephen wanted you here and was more than proud to show you off.
It all went over smoother than you had expected and you began warming up to the situation, once inside. Stephen went on to introduced you – as his partner, no less – to some important people here, people he was more or less acquainted with, people he had worked or collaborated with. They seemed ecstatic he had showed up and even more so curious who he had brought with him.
The most of them took well to you, seemingly not all too biased when it came to your person, and even though there were strange looks once in a while, the majority of people you talked to were delighted about the fact that the OR wasn't only a place to save lives but apparently also served as a place to get to know your potential partners.
There was not one disapproving word spoken to you.
You had been seated at a table with rather nice guests and listening to the speeches, covering a wide expense of medical subjects that even you found pretty interesting, kept your mind busy for the most part, blowing the anxiety away altogether.
Only struck by nervousness again when it was Stephen's time to get on stage, more so because you were nervous for him, soon the irking feeling of discomfort was replaced by something else, something far better.
You found yourself immensely proud, once Stephen got up to do his part. How enamored you were with him, making his way through the crowd, his graceful movements, looking so damn handsome in his suit, the light hitting him just right. How exhilarated you were, knowing he had been so keen on having you here, because your support was meaningful to him.
There was no need to be nervous for him. You shouldn't have been surprised by the way he dominated the stage – Stephen had guts and he loved to talk (about himself as much as neurosurgery, no doubt) and didn't seem intimidated by the mass of people at all. He landed a well-rehearsed speech with an impressive amount of applause, looking all relieved, and more so pleased with himself, once returning to the table.
"You were great", you commended him, beaming at him with a smile.
"Thank you for being here with me", Stephen just said after sitting down, leaning over for a quick kiss, "Really. I mean it."
And you were more than lucky to hear that. Had you known your presence was going to be so impacting, that it would be as calm and nice at this, that all your worries had been misplaced (though not unjustified), maybe you were wrong to deny his request in the first place.
Perhaps you could even get used to a life like this, showing up with Doctor Stephen Strange to all kinds of events, because you were proud to be with him as much as he was happy to have you by his side.
Dinner was a fairly pleasant occasion too, a distraction preventing you to fawn and moon over Stephen all evening long – though honestly, who could have blamed you? You chatted quite a bit with your table neighbors as Stephen kept inviting you back into the conversation, not wanting you to feel left out, although you would have not minded to not participate.
While Stephen didn't drink anything alcoholic (the complimentary glass of champagne didn't really count), you weren't so abstinent, having been offered generous amounts of alcohol during the duration of the evening, downing at least three glasses of wine and a cocktail before deciding to stop when you felt yourself positively buzzed.
You were warm, almost getting a little too heated, not just thanks to the alcoholic beverages, but due to Stephen's hand managing to find your thigh under the table, squeezing it lightly, possibly meant as an innocent reassurance that he was still here and it was still alright. Though you definitely couldn't ignore the fact something else entirely was awakened within you as his touch burned into your leg.
Needless to say, by the time doctors and medical students from all over the country started to introduce their research projects on stage, you were more than a little turned on, downright horny. It was harder and harder for you to keep listening with a mindful ear, while Stephen for his part was enjoying himself and seemed interested, though his hand was being busy otherwise.
Your eyes glanced more often over to him than to the stage, your mind focusing more on the touch than on the content that was presented. While it might have been interesting and worth listening to, all that you were concerned about was to keep yourself contained and not lose any composure.
As much as feeling each other up in public spaces, just for the sake of it being considered forbidden, gave you a thrill, it was okay when Stephen did so at the hospital, but not here. Not in the presence all those people, at an event like this.
You weren't even sure whether Stephen was teasing on purpose, stroking your thigh, fingers kneading the muscle, tracing the inseam of your trousers, or simply wanted to accomplish that you were relaxing more.
Because you definitely were far from relaxing right now. The lingering touch made you shift uncomfortably in your seat, you tried to play down your arousal by focusing on anything but Stephen's hand on you and desperately hoped your cock wouldn't decide to embarrass you publicly all of the sudden.
"Everything alright?", Stephen muttered under your breath when he noticed the agitated squirming. He sounded seriously concerned, not like he had been planning on teasing or arousing you for that matter. God, he was entirely oblivious.
"Are you feeling unwell? Do you wanna go home?"
You leaned towards him to whisper into his ear, making sure to talk as quietly as you could, seeming like you didn't want to disturb the others listening to the speech, when you really just wanted to word your current desire.
"I don't know if we will get that far, because I really need you to fuck me."
Clearly you had caught Stephen a little off guard with that comment, who was nervously looking around instantly, hoping that no one had heard or guessed.
The surgeon cleared his throat, before replying calmly, "Then I think we should leave after that presentation.”
And you sure did, the two of you taking your leave quicker than anyone could really notice, excusing yourself to your table neighbors, before hurrying out of the main hall, practically rushing past the staff of this place, the photographers and journalists still looming outside – though luckily, having seen no flashes meant that no pictures had been taken. That sure would have made quite the subject.
He got you both settled in the car in a hurry, revving the engine, before pulling out of the parking lot and starting to speed off instantly. You quickly noticed that you weren't taking the same route you had used earlier, when Stephen didn't direct the car onto the highway back to New York.
"Are you gonna make the route extra long in order to tease me?", you wondered.
"No, it won't be much longer", the surgeon assured you, checking side and rear mirrors, all while seemingly searching for something off road.
"Then why aren't we heading home?", you asked, oddly suspicious.
If you hadn't known any better, you might have feared Stephen was going to dispose of you somewhere along the way in the middle of the night. Why else would he choose an abandoned road?
But then the man's hand landed on your thigh again, his long and skilled fingers tracing the inner side, down to the bend of the knee and up to your crotch, all while keeping his eyes fixed on the road.
"Because you said we're not going to get as far as home and I'm only taking you by word", he chuckled, only gently pressing his hand to where your cock stirred in your trousers, placing a turn signal as he steered the car into another path off-road, where seemingly, in the middle of the night, nothing and no one would disturb the two of you.
Parking his car on the gravelly path you had ended up on, far off the road where other cars might still pass at that time of night, you knew exactly what he was proposing. He was planning to fuck you out here, in his car, right now.
It wasn't something you had ever done before, but by the way your heart consequently hammered and your groin was practically on fire, you sure weren't going to pass on that opportunity.
Unbuckling your seat belts all too quickly, you met over the middle console, searching for each others mouths and finding what you both sought as your lips clashed together. Kissing Stephen always meant wanting more and more. He was addictive, everything from the soft curve of his lips to his eager tongue slipping into your mouth, the bruise of his bite and the fact that he had a tendency to smirk while kissing you hard.
However getting to the point of sex appeared a little difficult than initially thought.
While the Huracán Stephen drove was a wonderfully sleek car (and definitely a match to Stephen's ego), it was set very low and not spacious by any means. Even just trying to climb onto Stephen's lap would have been hard, let alone riding him without constantly banging your head on the car's ceiling.
Sucking him off would have been convenient and was definitely something you would have been tempted to do any other day, but today it was just not enough.
You needed to have him inside of you.
Perhaps Stephen could have just bent you over the hood. It wasn't too cold outside, but the idea still didn't sound particularly comfortable. There was no backseat area and the front seats wouldn't shift back far enough without you having to twist and turn into uncomfortable positions to get Stephen's cock inside of you.
No matter how desperate you were for him at this moment, you at least wanted it to be comfortable enough to sink into the pleasure completely and not worry about tearing a muscle.
In conclusion, it might have been a pretty car, but it was terribly inconvenient for having sex and you spend minutes trying to figure it out together, laughing at the ridiculousness of your combined desperation to find a suitable position.
Shifting back and forth in a hurry, trying this and that, clawing at each other with need, your mouths slotting together whenever they could, hurrying out of the car, rounding it, never quite satisfied with the way things were, pressed up to the sleek black car as Stephen kept palming you through your pants, hands opening belts and buttons, revealing more and more skin, then turning and shoving and bending and...
You ended up in a somewhat promising position, taking up most space of the interior, as you knelt on your seat, hands supporting yourself on the driver's seat, bent over the middle console and presenting your ass quite perfectly to Stephen behind you.
Glad you had stripped off pants and underwear somewhere in between, the soft breeze from outside brushed the bare skin of your backside, intensifying the shudder of your need as your partner sure took his time to drive you crazy with lust.
A little more than desperate, hanging over the car's middle console, you pressed your ass back against Stephen, begging to be finally given some release after waiting and aching, while the man was already two fingers in, opening him up with precise movements, because... it was simply not enough.
Your cock was weeping, so achingly hard, asking to be touched to the point where you even reached for it yourself, tending it with long and gentle strokes, all while Stephen took his time preparing you well.
There was no need for conversation.
Your pure desire didn't require words, Stephen knew exactly how to touch you, and wiggling your ass into your lover's touch was a sign that clearly indicated how ready you were for him to fuck you. The occasional grunt and moan was all there was slipping past your lips, the soft puffs of labored breath, running faster with excitement.
Spit and precum smeared over your hole, you finally felt his fingers replaced by the thick tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, drawing out the moment in anticipation to the point he had you whining with his relentless teasing and toying, pushing back into him hard, so Stephen would have no other choice than to give in and sheath himself inside of you.
Being stretched by his cock ached a little at first, but you always managed to adjust, not minding the bit of the initial burn as he filled you up. On the contrary, you craved it, your whole body longing to feel him, here and now and even afterwards.
And god, fucking finally, you were allowed the familiar sensation. Any longer and you would have lost yourself to madness, though the rush of lust overcoming wasn't driving you insane any less.
Stephen allowed you to take a moment, ever so considerate, hands gently trailing along your hips, fingers grazing over the bare skin, an appreciative hum from him that sent a smile to your face – he was enjoying your sudden neediness, the spontaneous sexual adventure of fucking in his car, in the middle of nowhere, both of you looking forward to the satisfaction he was about to bring, fulfilling his own urge to claim you completely.
You liked getting nasty and filthy with Stephen, loved nothing more than being railed by the man all the way to next Sunday, whenever, wherever, might it be in every room of your apartments, in every corner at hospital or like today, outside.
The sex you had was the perfect way to settle arguments, make bad days better and the good days absolutely fantastic.
Though of course, you also found yourself reminded of the connection you two had, not just the physical one. Sure, you loved to have him shove you around, to press you into every available surface and fuck you like you belonged to him only.
But especially the random displays of Stephen's gentleness was the thing that made your heart clench and you figured it might just be love.
Rocking back into him, an evident sign that you were ready to take him in fully and needed more, Stephen got the right drift, the grip on your hips tightening as he began to move. His thrusts were deep at first, slow strokes, not painfully sharp, though more than enough to send waves of pleasure through your body with every single push inside of you.
It didn't even take long, until he had you turned into a moaning mess, clutching onto the seat, unashamed to let the dark and quiet of the night be witness to your lovemaking, letting him hear you, feel you, use you.
If that wasn't the best reward for accompanying Stephen tonight, you didn't know what would be. You didn't care about anything else anymore, no more insecurities, no more of other people's stupid opinions.
All you asked for was for him to keep on fucking you.
The switch up of rhythms caught you by surprise, one moment long and deep thrusts, the next more erratic thrusting, quicker but not as deep, up until the point where he was ferociously fucking you again, every slam of his hips into yours making you jolt and groan.
You continued stroking yourself in time with the man's thrusts, knowing you were not likely lasting that much longer since Stephen had begun hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, and were starting to feel yourself tremble with pleasure.
This was only heightened as you noticed the stutter of Stephen's hips, losing any sense of rhythm entirely, losing himself in his thrusts and chasing his own pleasure, using you more than treating you, plowing into you ruthlessly, until he spilled inside of you, painting your insides with a hot and heavy load, even before you could topple over the edge.
Good lord, you counted yourself very lucky for having it that way around – because hearing your partner let out the sweetest moans, letting him ride out his orgasm in a frenzy while you took up all of his cum like a good boy, was the hottest thing. You let yourself fully enjoy the sensation, until you weren't able to hold out any longer.
You came just as hard, grip tight around your cock, clenching around Stephen's member still buried deep inside of you, an earth shattering orgasm hitting you as you felt your own cum shoot all over your hand, no doubt dripping on these sinfully expensive leather car seats as well, but you seriously couldn't find yourself to mind.
Let Stephen worry about it later.
Maybe he'd even punish you for ruining the expensive material and god, wouldn't you just love it? Just the idea of him, demanding you to kneel on the ground, defiled and cockdrunk, as he grabs you by the hair and forces you to eat your cum off his leather seats, licking clean every last spot, sent you into another spiral of lust.
Being with Stephen made you so unashamed. You enjoyed how capable this man was of utterly ruining you. You were glad to be his slut, getting fucked in an expensive car, wearing an expensive suit, after just having been at an important public gala as his date. All prim and proper, now wrecked and ruined and loving every bit of it.
Because you sure did adore it, being like this with Stephen, and would have him anywhere, anyplace, anytime, any way – hopefully for the rest of your lives.
#k writes#doctor strange#stephen strange#stephen strange x male reader#stephen strange x reader#surgeon strange#doctor strange smut#doctor strange in the multiverse of madness#doctor strange 2016#doctor stephen strange#x male reader#marvel fanfiction#m x m
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Patrick O'Brian was so real for this one <3
#aubreyad#i do appreciate the way that he treats other languages#like he doesn't often toss in random words but he does subtly change the rhythm#the conversation in the surgeon's mate in catalan is very clearly a different register#especially for stephen#but it's all written out in english except for stephen calling his godfather padrí and his godfather calling him esteve#anyways reading forester i now am realizing how low the bar is here#obv it's not very easy to do this but when someone does it....<333#(i've spent a lot of time thinking about how to represent multilingualism in monoglot writing lol)#perce rambles#will say: the obvious caveat to this is stephen forgetting how to say bolets in english. which mr. pob was also incredibly real for <33
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Vowless Desires
Pairing: Stephen Strange/Reader
Word count: 2.1k
Summary: "...This is the last time, Stephen.”
“That’s what you always say, sweetie. Deep down, you know he’ll never give you what I can.” He murmured.
You couldn’t deny him. Stephen was a god compared to your husband, you knew it was wrong, but just like the devil, he had you tempted.
Warnings: SMUT over 18+ ONLY. Cheating, Semi-Public Sex, Creampie, Choking, Possessive Stephen Strange, Teasing, Jealous Stephen Strange, Unprotected Sex
an: Got this idea from listening to "Moth to a Flame" by the weekend, so go on and put that on repeat while you read.
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Your back hit the wall of the mop closet as Stephen pushed you in, lips desperately latching onto yours in an unrestrained manner. One of the shelves shook, causing a couple of boxes of gloves to fall at your feet.
You grabbed a handful of his scrubs, pulling him close as he pushed his knee between your legs, spreading you apart. He pressed his hips against yours, and you could feel his growing erection from under his pants.
You hissed as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, causing you to jerk back. “Fuck- let’s be clear. This is the last time, Stephen.” He captured your lips hungrily, chuckling against them mockingly. He began kissing across your jaw, then down your neck, causing you to tilt your head back, giving permission for him to go further.
“That’s what you always say, sweetie. Deep down, you know he’ll never give you what I can.” He murmured. You couldn’t deny him. Stephen was a god compared to your husband, you knew it was wrong, but just like the devil, he had you tempted.
With his hands, he pulled down your pants eagerly, then pressed his fingers over your panties, rubbing you softly against your slit.
“Oh, Sweetie… you're soaking wet for me.” He lifted up his fingers to his mouth, tasting you.
“Just fuck me already, Stephen. People will start to wonder.”
“I don’t care. Let them wonder.” Stephen kneeled down slowly in front of you, pulling your panties down and then looking up from between your legs. “I want to taste you first.” He lifted one of your legs and rested it on his shoulder, pushing your shirt up. He began kissing your inner thigh, trailing up to your womanhood. You sighed, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply as his lips danced against your sex, parting your folds with his tongue.
He kissed you there a couple of times, taking his time. He didn’t want this to end. He wished he could taste you forever. He reached up to drag his finger up and down your pussy- swiping your juices all around before pushing his finger inside. “Stephen...” You hummed.
Stephen started to thrust his fingers into your heat, adding another finger, then another to stretch you out for him. You moaned softly, gripping the edge of the sink behind you. Your phone started to vibrate in your scrubs pocket, interrupting the moment.
“Fuck.” You push Stephen off. “It’s Jack.” This was not the right time for your husband to call- with your pants and underwear; thrown on a shelf in a mop closet and a man’s head between your legs with your essence coating the lower half of his face.
“Take it, it’s okay.” Stephen nodded. You answered, putting on a fake voice and quietly catching your breath.
“Hey, honey..” You answered. Stephen looked up at you as you spoke to your husband. A smirk slowly formed on his lips. He put his hands on either of your thighs, spreading them before him. He looked up at you, your eyes narrowed, giving him a look of warning.
He placed a soft, quiet kiss on your calf before moving his lips up your inner thigh slowly. You held in your moans as he buried his head between your legs. You gripped your phone, shutting your eyes, not being able to focus on the news of your husband’s promotion.
“Fuck- uh, that fee- that’s amazing, honey.” Stephen looked up and that familiar arrogant smile formed on his face as he heard your speech waver. You let out a shaky breath as he pushed his tongue between your folds.
“You okay, sweetie?” Your husband asked.
“Y-yeah. I just- um walked up 3 flights of stairs, so I’m out of breath.” You chuckled, hoping he’d believe you. He always did believe your lies. “Well, I should leave you to it. I’m sure you have a lot of things to take care of.”
“Oh, yes...” Your eyes flickered down to Stephen.
“Alright, I’ll pick you up later, sweetie.”
“Thank you, honey. Love you.” You hung up the call, throwing the phone to the side and hooking your leg around Stephen.
“Love you?” He smirked, teasing you. You looked down and rolled your eyes. “Shut up, Stephen.”
“Oh sweetie, you say you love him, but it’s me between your legs…Tell me, does he know how to eat your pussy like I do?” He hummed against your core, the vibrations of his baritone voice adding to the unbelievable sensation. “Does he know how to make you cum with his mouth?”
“Fuck- don’t stop Stephen-” you plead, taking fists of dark hair and tugging on them gently.
He looked up at you, watching how you tilt your head back in pleasure- finding satisfaction in making you unravel just for him. He played with your clit with his tongue, letting your arousal drip from his mouth.
He continued to thrust his fingers, sucking your clit hard, knowing you were near the edge. You gripped his hair hard, grinding your hips against his face as the pressure within you started to build up.
“I- I’m gonna cum-”
He took your clit between his lips and sucked and flicked his tongue in a way that made you cum every time. You let out a choked groan, knees buckling under you as you came, flooding his mouth with your juices.
Wave after wave, he lapped you up, moaning as he drank from you. He stood up, and you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself, tasting your essence on his lips as he leaned down in a kiss.
“You drive me crazy, Y/N. Every night I think about you going home to him- how he gets to touch your skin, kiss your lips, lay in bed with you. I wish it was me- it should be me.” He lunged forward in a bruising kiss that made you breathless. It was always so carnal with him. You knew the hunger he possessed for you, waiting to devour you at every opportunity.
His hands reached down, loosening the knot of his pants before tugging it down around his thighs. You quickly grabbed a hold of his waist, pulling yourself against him and kissing him. The kiss was demanding, forceful. You slid your tongue against his lip to pull it between your teeth, relishing the small surprised moan it coaxed from him.
Stephen’s arms were soon around you, hands drifting down your back, one trailing down to your ass and squeezing it tightly. He broke the kiss to look down between you. He stroked his cock a couple of times before pressing the swollen head against your wet entrance. He looked up at you for permission, his eyes softening for half a moment, quickly turning into desire when you nodded.
He pushed into you suddenly, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he bottomed out in your heat, stretching you completely. He stayed still as you adjusted to his size, gently moving his hips until you were comfortable.
“Oh, Y/N. '' He buried his head into your neck, thrusting up into you, feeling you tighten around his thick cock. He started at a controlled pace, looking down and watching his cock disappear in your heat with every thrust. You cupped his face in your hand, pulling him down and resting his forehead on yours. You paused, lips barely touching, breathing in each other’s air.
Stephen took your left hand in his and kissed your knuckles. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the wedding band sitting on your finger. A flicker of jealousy lights his eyes as he slipped your ring finger into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around before pulling the ring with his teeth and spitting it out onto the messy pool of clothes on the floor.
“Stephen!” You exclaimed, shocked at his actions but deep down finding it sexy.
He reached up and grabbed your chin harshly, tilting your face up until you were staring into his cold blue eyes. “When you’re here, you’re mine, not his.” He growled, leaning down to capture your lips again. He rolled his hips into you, letting his cock push against your tight walls.
You raked your fingernails across his back. “Harder, please.” You begged against his lips. Stephen hissed, pulling back and looking at you with eyes darkened with lust.
“Turn around.” Stephen pulled out suddenly, then pushed you against the wall of the closet and slapped your ass. He thrust his cock back inside of you, causing your breath to hitch at the sudden contact. He twisted his hand into your ponytail, pulling it back until your back was arched and flushed with his hard body.
“You’re mine, do you understand?” He tugged on your ponytail again. “Answer me.”
“Yes.” You breathed.
“Does he know you like it rough? Does he know how to make you cum like I do?” He purred hotly against your ear.
“No-”
“Who does your cunt belong to, Y/N?”
“You, Stephen. Fuck! It's always you.” You cried out.
“That’s right, sweetie.” He kissed the back of your head. “You’re going to take my cock like the good girl you are.” He placed both of his hands at your hips, pounding you at a rough pace. You squeezed around him, feeling the pressure build from within you.
“Stephen- Fuck, you’re going to make me cum.”
“Hold it. You don’t cum unless I tell you to.” He ground out. He gripped your hips so aggressively, your skin turning white under his fingertips. There was an arrogant but authoritative tone to his voice that aroused you even more.
“Stephen-” You whimpered. “Please. I can't hold it.” You whimpered, feeling the pressure build more, your body threatening to go over.
“Hold it in, or I’ll pull out right now.” He hissed, wrapping his fingers around your neck and biting your shoulder through your scrubs. You shut your eyes tight, trying to obey his orders. He continued to fuck you with reckless abandon, feeling his breathy moans against your skin.
You couldn’t hold it any longer. You were going to cum if he continued his unrelenting tempo. “Oh God, please! Please, I need to cum!” You begged him.
“No Gods here, Y/N, just me.” He grunted.
“Stephen, Stephen- Please.” You pleaded, saying his name like a vow. Your whole body tensed up as your climax hung on a nail.
“Fine- cum around my cock, sweetie.” He said roughly, loosening his hold on your neck and reaching down to rub his rough, expert fingers on your clit. You clenched, walls fluttering around him as you came with a sweet cry.
Stephen continued to pump himself deeper and deeper inside of you. “I’m so close, baby.” He confessed. Pulling you by the hips to meet his hard thrusts, balls slapping your ass. “I’m gonna pump your pretty little pussy with my seed until you're filled to the brim.” You let out a needy moan, knees starting to buckle as you were overcome with intense pleasure and ecstasy.
“Fuck yes-” You swore.
“Fuck Y/N, take it all.” His hips stuttered, and muscles tightened as he chased his climax. He buried his head between your neck and shoulder, nipping at your skin through his desperate grunts. His cock twitched deep inside you, flooding you with his release. His body jerked with every spurt while your cunt tightened around him, milking him of every last drop.
His hips came to a slow halt as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.
You felt his cum ooze out and run down your leg as he slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered softly, feeling a little empty without him. He pulled up his pants, tying them back up before helping you get dressed. He handed you a paper towel to wipe yourself clean after you slipped your ring back on, which was still coated in his saliva.
Stephen watched you quietly as you got dressed, then walked over to you to cup your face in his hands again. He stared into your eyes and the features of your face as if he was memorizing your every line and pore. You watched him, noticing his lips tugging into a small genuine smile. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes told a different story. A hint of wistfulness that lingered within his gaze whenever he was with you. He sighed softly, regaining his composure, then put on the smile of the arrogant surgeon. You wondered if there was someone hiding beneath the mask, someone who was capable of love.
“I'll see you around, Dr. Y/L/N.” He smirked, opening the door of the mop closet and looking around before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
You stood in the empty, quiet room to yourself. You didn’t know what to think or what to feel at that moment. A part of you knew it was wrong seeing Stephen like this, but like a moth to a flame, a part of you couldn't let him go.
Part 2: Another Love
#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange x you#stephen strange fanfiction#stephen strange#doctor strange x reader#doctor strange x you#doctor strange fanfiction#doctor strange#benedict cumberbatch#doctor strange smut#stephen strange smut#oneshot#surgeon strange#surgeon strange smut
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Stephen Maturin: I'm a physician, not a surgeon
The Royal Navy: I can't hear suddenly, I don't know
#and then the book's summary describes him as a surgeon lol#poor baby#master and commander#stephen maturin#finally realized that since i love sailing novels it's past time for me to read the aubrey & maturin series#they're quite good i'm enjoying them#like hornblower but somehow even more gay subtext
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Surgeon!Strange: Pick me, choose me, love me
Y/N: You did not just Greys me
Surgeon!Strange: I don’t know anything other than what I’m good at. So. I watched a few episodes to see how to flirt with you
Y/N: …of Greys Anatomy?
Surgeon!Strange: I may be highly intelligent, but not that intelligent
#lonelinessinthemirrordimension#doctor strange#stephen strange#surgeon!strange#doctor strange x reader#stephen strange x reader
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Stephen and Diana legit got married? For real? What? What are they gonna do for soap opera shenanigans now???
#stephen maturin#diana viliers#diana maturin#<what the heck??? it happened?#i thought they were going to take the whole series about it!#aubreyad#rose reads#the surgeons mate
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“ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴛ.” | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ
Doctor Stephen Strange x Surgeon!Reader
summary: What about seducing your workaholic boyfriend Stephen to a snack, a cuddle and massage session and neck kisses, cause he NEEDS a break and some love?
word count: 3.3k
warnings: workaholic behavior, stress, exhaustion, fluff, curse words, mentions of smut at the very end
author’s note: This is another request I’m really looking forward to write! Have fun :3
Sighing deeply, YN pushed open the door to leave the scrub-in room of OR 3 while pulling the cotton cap off her head. A long yawn escaped her opened mouth which she hid behind the unlocked tablet, and strolled over to the nurse's desk right opposite the OR schedule and heavily leaned against the wood. The tablet found its spot in front of her so she could quickly finish up the surgical report to be added to her patient's file, so she could finally have her breakfast break at a decent time for the first time in months. She loved her job, really, she did, but sometimes she hated it with her entire being. Not the part where she could help people with her vast knowledge and skills, but the part where her pager constantly woke her up in the middle of the goddamn night, even though she wasn't even on-call. But being the head of a department brought its consequences which rarely were gradually positive.
"Doctor LN!"
Groaning, the called surgeon propped her elbows on top of the nurse's desk and started to massage her temples with the tips of both pointer and middle finger.
"Stop shouting as if a helicopter is right next to you in the middle of departure," she scolded one of the interns - ducklings, as most of the attendings called them - but took the brought coffee nonetheless. "Sorry, Doctor LN." He seemed crushed, and YN sighed a second time within the last few minutes. "Whatever. What's on it today?" Even though she stepped into this hospital five hours ago, she hadn't started with her usual duties in the slightest. The next long day ahead of her was something she loved but envied at the same time, and this feeling of utter conflict in her mind wasn't very pleasant. "The ER paged you for a council, Doctor Macy-..." YN took a sip of her coffee before snapping her fingers and pointing one in his direction as a thought occurred. "PEDs, right?" The intern nodded. "Yup! She wants a second opinion on her CF patient and specifically requested you." It didn't surprise her because, during her med studies, YN had published a paper about cystic fibrosis - as one of the youngest in her field of studies. Her future research had recently gotten the approval of the FDA, and as soon as the funds were here, she could finally start to find a (long-lasting) cure.
While her intern for today rambled over more points on their agenda - she already had forgotten his name, but that was the case with every newer face in her life - her gaze shifted back to the OR schedule, which had just got updated for the next upcoming surgeries. And something on it didn't quite fit with her.
"Are you fucking kidding me."
It wasn't a particular question, just a shoutout, an expression of her thoughts and feelings at this exact moment.
Her eyes moved over the whiteboard again, looking for the one name in question, and the displeased expression on YN's face deepened even more, if that was still possible. She put the barely half-drunken coffee cup next to her tablet, the report still not written. "Go ahead and tell them I will be in the pit in a couple of minutes for that council," was all she said before the cardiothoracic surgeon grabbed the bunched-up cap from the desk and crossed the hallway with a purpose and mission in mind.
"Is everything alright, or do we have to prepare ourselves for the biggest earthquake this century has seen so far?" Doctor James Chamberlain asked the confused intern while Doctor Nicodemus West cackled behind his tablet. "Someone is in trouble," he almost sang, and James laughed snortingly, sitting with half of his bottom on the nurse desk's edge. "He can count himself a lucky man if he leaves this OR standing straight." Now, both doctors cackled in utter amusement, but the intern was more confused than ever before because he definitely never expected that his favorite attending dated someone as cruel as Strange.
;
The soft tunes of Feelin' Happy by Lee Oskar echoed through OR 1, in which Stephen had just wrapped up an eight-hour surgery with the energy of a man who could've slept the entire night but was actually awake for longer than he thought.
"Edges are looking perfect - what a surprise - and the tumor is officially gone. The counter is rising up to... what? Thirteen successful tumor removals after four different councils by four different doctors?" Jack - the nurse present at most of his surgeries - scoffed softly. "It's tumor fourteen now, sir." Stephen let his head fall back and raised both hands, still holding his instruments. "Feelin' good!" He exclaimed before another voice entered the conversation: "I don't believe so, Doctor Strange."
The neurosurgeon moved his gaze from the ceiling to the arriving woman who had just put on the face mask, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He knew he had done something to offend or displease her - and his entire surgical team knew it as well. Jack turned down the music's volume and cleared his throat awkwardly, disrupting the dense silence suddenly covering the OR. The only sounds were the beeping heart monitor and the oxygenator.
"Doctor LN."
Everyone greeted her with the utmost respect - some even with a hint of fear - even though she was younger than most of the attendings and heads of departments throughout the hospital. But she had earned every title, nomination, and prize she had gained or won so far because everyone knew what a hardworking and intelligent woman she was.
"How can I help you at this fine early morning, Doctor LN?" Stephen's almost mocking question was first answered by a scoff. "It's almost noon if you haven't noticed, but of course, you didn't because you've been in here since last night when I left." The displeasure was now very vivid to hear for every single soul inside the room. Stephen looked up from the pulsing brain in front of him and the lamp attached to his head blinded her for a second there. "Well, an emergency came in," he defended himself though the shock pulsed through his entire body. He hadn’t noticed how the time had moved past him and his intention to leave not later than two hours after her, so he could get at least one round of cuddles before she would be dead to the world in his arms.
You fucked up good, idiot.
Yeah, he noticed that now.
YN wasn't impressed in the slightest. "An emergency aneurysm clipping doesn't take five hours. I'm not stupid, Stephen, so don't treat me as if I am. This tumor removal you just did there got scheduled last night - on a whim, might I add." She probably sounded crazy, but she worried for him more than it was probably good for her sanity because the Strange was a lost cause in this aspect of life. The doctor shrugged under the light blue operation gown.
"I saved his life."
"You risked it too in that egoistic move after you decided it would be wise to try your hands on it after a twelve hours shift without any sleep or a proper lunch or dinner. You are way out of line, Stephen, and I am obviously the only one who dares to mention it and kick your ass out of this freaking OR." She spiraled into this feeling, she knew it, but YN couldn't help it. Not when it came to Stephen's health and wellbeing. It was her duty as a girlfriend to care about these things, especially if he didn't do it himself—one of them had to. "So, move your ass out now, or I will drag it out myself. Your choice." She cocked both eyebrows in mock anticipation, preparing herself for the latter because she knew him, but Stephen slowly put down the delicate surgical instruments back on the surgical tray and stepped back from the patient. "You can close up, Hawthorne, but don't let your stitches get sloppy," he told his favorite resident of the week and stepped out of the OR, passing his glaring girlfriend with a mockingly cocked eyebrow as if to say, "See? I am a responsible adult."
Back in the scrub-in room, YN waited until Stephen had discarded the gloves and OR gown and finally turned to her while he ripped off his face mask. His face wasn't furies as she had anticipated. Instead, his signature cocky smirk graced his lips before he pulled her into him, pressing their bodies against one another. Her confusion was soon changed with a playfully annoyed roll of her eyes. "You can boss me around in those dark blue scrubs as long and often you want, Doctor LN," he smirked and laughed softly as her flat palm hit the back of his head. "You're an idiot, you know that, don’t you?" Stephen cocked a brow, never going to admit that he, indeed, was sometimes an idiot when it came to the woman in his arms. "And it's not as if you're not seeing me in those like every day of the week for the past six years," she reminded him, and now he shrugged. "I can't change the effect you have on me, but not only in them, of course." Rolling her eyes again, YN tucked at the shirt of his scrubs and looked up to him with a pleading glim in her eyes.
"You work too much," she whispered.
"I do god's work, darling," he whispered back and pecked the tip of her nose with the softest of kisses.
YN hit the back of his head again. "You can't do god's work when you're not rested and on the top of your game. I only ask for a healthy snack, some carbs, something to drink, and a nap. Nothing more, nothing less. I can reschedule your next three surgeries and put them up for the next few days, but today will be a day full of rest and stupid rounds, okay? Please?" Now she loaded her gun and looked up at him with those big pleading eyes he could never resist. "Pretty please? I will be there too. I can provide cuddles if you like." She played dirty now, they both knew it, but Stephen couldn't resist the tempting offer.
He already had been hooked after the promise of her company in one of the on-call rooms.
He bent down to give her a gentle kiss, cupping her face with both hands. "What do I have to do for your famous neck massage?" His request was whispered in a husky tone, and YN started to smile before kissing him again. "You don't have to do anything to get what you want, but I'm not opposed to more kisses," she grinned, and the surgeon pulled her into his side to leave the surgical floor to find one of the less frequented on-call rooms in their hospital.
—
Outside, still leaning opposite the surgical schedule, waited West and Chamberlain, and the other neurosurgeon groaned at the sight of the still happy couple leaving the floor together. Chamberlain chuckled and closed his fingers around the given ten-dollar note. "Thank you for your service," he grinned victoriously, and Nic rolled his eyes. He should have known that these two were each other's endgame and nothing could ruin their peace, not even themself.
;
Taking one of the tablets with them so YN could finally get that surgical report done as soon as Stephen would be dead to the world, they entered their preferred on-call room. It sat between the PEDs wing and the supply closets, so rarely anybody ventured in here, and the room was all theirs.
The couple took the single bed under the windows, and while she closed the blinds to keep the sun out, the neurosurgeon plopped down onto the new mattress the hospital had bought recently—and groaned. YN chuckled at that sound and situated herself behind his back after kicking off her sneakers, kneeling on the soft mattress, and pressing her legs against his hips.
She may be a bit clingy sometimes, but gladly, Stephen never objected to it. Instead, he reveled in it.
Propping her chin atop his right shoulder in order to see what the man in front of her was doing, YN hummed, interested. “And there I was thinking you’d let work be work for at least an hour. Silly me,” she whispered, breath fanning over the sensitive skin under his ear, and the doctor groaned again, raspier now. “You are an evil one,” he returned, and with a chuckle, she kissed the spot right under his ear. “I know.” But then, she grabbed her pager and paged one of her interns to get some food and some liquid at the cafeteria, so Stephen could finally rest.
“Food is on its way,” YN informed him and intended to start the promised neck massage, but another look over his shoulder showed her something she really didn’t like. The newest brain scans literally screamed for her attention.
“Stephen, no.”
Her hands shot out over his shoulder and tried to grab the tablet out of his, but the doctor held it further away and turned it so that she could see the beautiful scans of an even more beautiful nail in it. “Look at it!” His demand fell on deaf ears. “Give it to me, now.” YN almost got it. “Stephen, no! I mean it!” With one last effort, she leaned over his shoulder and grabbed the device, but the workaholic chuckled. “Stephen, yes,” he returned and acquired it again out of her tight grasp.
Only hell knew how he had done it.
With an exasperated sigh, YN took matters into her own hands and put her fingers back on his neck and upper back muscles, and started to massage. She applied the perfect amount of pressure—it wasn’t their first time she had to practically drag him away from work—and let her thumbs work through the taut splenius capitis muscle, directly followed by the levator scapulae muscle and the trapezius muscle.
With the beginning of the first overworked muscle, Stephen let his eyes fall shut, the tablet long forgotten in his hand, and a deep, rumbling moan escaped his parted lips. A satisfied sigh followed right after as the doctor felt the soft lips of his girlfriend on his skin, peppering loving kisses all over his neck where her hands didn’t work their magic.
“You must be a sorceress,” he groaned at a particular taut spot which soon was smooth as butter, and the tension slowly dispersed out of his tense body. He knew now that he worked too much and started to make plans to work less and spend more time with this godsend of a woman, but they both knew that those thoughts would be short-lived. He loved what he did too much for it—and that was okay because she was there to remind him from time to time to take it easy. “Don’t flatter me too much, love,” she whispered shortly before pressing another set of kisses onto his neck, her thumbs still working effortlessly through the muscles.
His next moan followed a hesitant knock at the door. “Uhm… Doctor LN…?” The voice of her intern asked, and YN had to chuckle but continued her work. “You can come in!” She had to raise her voice because Stephen moaned particularly loud this time but seemingly didn’t notice the arrival of his food. The door opened as hesitantly as his voice had sounded, and a head looked around the door to check if the situation was at least PG13. “Sorry, Doctor Strange, for interrupting,” he mumbled, but the neurosurgeon didn’t even acknowledge his presence. “Here is the pastrami sandwich, the chips, a package of carrots, and the water. The ER has paged me again for the consult, but I told them that you’re preoccupied, so they admitted the CF patient, and you can see her on the PEDs floor as soon as you’re… done.” His eyes shot to the sighing neurosurgeon before clearing his throat awkwardly and putting the food next to the two doctors on the mattress. “I… will handle anything else, Doctor LN, until you’re done here.” And with that, her intern turned on the spot and almost ran to leave this room behind.
Chuckling, YN kissed the spot underneath his ear another time, and Stephen sighed somewhere deep in his chest. “How do I deserve you?” His voice came out as a breathless groan, and the woman would have to lie if she said it didn’t do anything to her—quite the opposite was the case. But now, the man in front of her needed her more than she had to cave to her needs and desires. “That’s my question to ask, love,” the surgeon laughed softly before reaching down to get the sandwich. She reached over his shoulder and let it fall on his lap. “Eat,” was all YN said, and Stephen groaned another time. “Did I ever tell you how irresistible you are when you boss people around and shout orders? It’s bloody enticing. Could watch you all day…” He bit in his sandwich as told and YN continued in massaging his neck and working her hands down to his shoulders and upper arms.
“You always know a way to a woman’s heart.” Stephen hummed while chewing. “Well, I managed to find a way into yours. It’s all I ever wanted, darling, ever since meeting you for the first time.”
You really are a lucky woman, the voice in her head whispered, and she only could agree. Yes, sometimes Stephen was a pain in the ass, but nothing came without flaws, and she loved every single of them. It’s what a good relationship was made out of, she supposed.
“I recall a different reaction to the first sight of my face, but that’s a topic for another day,” she grinned but squealed at his sudden movements to grab and drag her onto his lap, the sandwich now forgotten on the small table next to the bed. “This was my not so thoroughly thought-through attempt at masking my real thoughts about the stunning woman entering the lecture hall and choosing the spot next to me because it was the spot with the best acoustic. But inside my head? My former self constantly screamed for your attention,” the Strange revealed in a hushed whisper, their faces only mere inches apart. His nose brushed against hers before Stephen dove for a hungry kiss; her magical hands had let desire boil up in his body, and he never could keep his hands off her.
Giggling, YN tangled her fingers in his dark hair and softly moaned as Stephen maneuvered her body so she could sit on his lap with spread legs, feeling the ever-growing bulge in his scrubs rubbing against the apex of her thighs. “Is the door locked?” His voice was strained by lust, and the doctor moaned against her soft lips as YN let her hips circle against his. “I don’t care,” she breathlessly whispered and laughed as the man underneath her became impatient—as he always did—and turned them. Now she was lying on the mattress with Stephen on top of her—his hair already deliciously tussled and pupils blown by the appetite for the woman pressed against his body. “Are we risky today?” Stephen teased her as his hands ran under her scrubs and pushed the shirt slowly up to reveal naked, soft skin inch by inch, his lips following his skilled fingers. YN moaned at the tickling but burning feeling of lips against skin but buried her fingers in his hair again to pull him upwards and back to her hungry lips. “Stop talking,” she demanded, almost muffled by his attacking mouth. “Impatient as always.”
Stephen grinned into the kiss. This was most definitely his preferred way to start the day.
;
This one took so long (I don’t know why), but now I’m happy with how this turned out. Hope you liked it too! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3
Taglist: @harpywritesfic @strangeions @meeksmusic83 @apple-and-berry @ben-er-ino @multifandomrandomgirl @lucimorningst4r @samisubi @hunterofshadows04 @y-napotat @lejuveinlegroove @ohchoices @jyessaminereads
#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange x fem!reader#stephen strange x surgeon!reader#doctor strange x reader#doctor strange x fem!reader#doctor strange x surgeon!readeer#stephen strange request#doctor strange request#stephen strange blurb#stephen strange imagine#stephen strange one shot#stephen strange oneshot#doctor strange blurb#doctor strange imagine#doctor strange oneshot#stephen strange fluff#doctor strange fluff#stephen strange fanfic#stephen strange fic#stephen strange fanfiction#doctor strange fanfic#doctor strange fic
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#doctor strange#benedict cumberbatch#doctorstephenstrange#strangescreenshot#stephen strange#doctor stephen strange#benedictcumberbatch#Doctor Strange 1#Doctor Strange 2016#Surgeon Strange#Stephen and Christine#Christine Palmer#Palmer Strange#PalmerStrange
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#do you see?? do you understand???#in order:#hms surprise#(first two)#the surgeon's mate#the commodore#blue at the mizzen#aubreyad#aubreyad spoilers#(is that a tag anyone blocks? idk)#stephen maturin#diana villiers#brigid maturin#forgive me if i missed any stephen/diana reunion moments. i was trying to only pick the ones where she runs to meet him#also a few paragraphs after that moment with brigid stephen spots a peregrine falcon - a bird he associated with diana in the past
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boiling tempers
He might be an excellent neurosurgeon and your colleague, but Stephen Strange has the talent of winding you up like no other person can. After a surgery nearly goes wrong, you finally clash.
Pairing: Surgeon!Stephen Strange x Male Reader
Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), hate sex, rough sex, unprotected, semi-public, mature language, one act of physical violence, mentions of surgery, Stephen being an asshole
A/N: we all feel some type of way about surgeon strange, don't we?
There was not a single human being that annoyed you more than Doctor Stephen fucking Strange.
Maybe it was his stupidly smug face, the cold look of superiority he tended to wear, trying to convince everyone that yeah, he was the best neurosurgeon and yeah, he did perform miracles on the human nervous system and no, your disease just simply wasn't good enough to be treated by him.
Maybe it was his arrogance, the way he put himself above the rest of the hospital staff, his dismissive stance on cases that were not challenging and therefore not deserving of being put on his surgical records.
Perhaps it was the way he talked down to other nurses and doctors alike, the way he never even spared as much as a glance or a tight-lipped “Hello” when crossing familiar faces in the hallway, going along his day like there was no other as good as Stephen Strange.
It irked you that you couldn't even deny him all of the fame and praise he earned, considering the fact that he was actually the best neurosurgeon the country could offer and he did damn good work.
That also unfortunately ensured him the top spot at the Metro General, which was the perfect opportunity to be an absolute dick to others and most turned a blind eye at his behavior.
The directors board of the hospital was most pleased to have Strange as their top neurosurgeon – any hospital would have – but that likely had to do with his abilities and definitely not with his personality. Doctors, students and nurses were in adoration of his surgical skills, marveling how Strange spoke about his work and how passionate he was about taking on cases (if worthy of his attention), and of course mooning over his looks.
Though did anyone of them possibly think he was a great person?
He was a great surgeon, sure. You could admit to that. You had quite a bit of respect for the work he did, unmatched in his capability and passion. An excellent, fast and hard working doctor, definitely admirable for his accomplishments, truly someone to look up to – for as long as he was in his scrubs in the OR, fingers busy with reattaching nerves or scrambling around in other people's brains.
The one and only Doctor Strange sure messed with your brain too.
If that weren't already enough... being around him was simply unavoidable.
Because the doctor was not only head neurosurgeon, making you – after years of studying, going through multiple exams and with a good eight years of work experience under your belt, now a perfectly capable surgical assistant – his stepping rug on every opportunity. No, he also happened to be a friend of Christine's.
How she had come to find someone like Strange even bearable in the first place was a huge mystery to you.
When you had first started at the Metro as a surgical assistant, working alongside resident doctors day by day, Christine had been one of your first good friends here and you quickly learned of her admittedly very silly crush on Stephen Strange.
You had heard more than enough about it. The way he had denied any of her advances straight away. How he had downright refusing to date her, up until the point that she had finally decided to put an end to trying and accepted they were never going to be anything besides friends.
Friendship seemed to work just fine for them. She still continued to spend time with him on the regular, plenty even, and you never really understood why. Her connection to the neurosurgeon was by all means strange – having asked times and times again what she might gain out of it, Christine never really went into detail why she was enduring the way he was. And god forbid, why she was even caring for him in this way.
Who knew what kind of secret Strange was hiding that made him actually likable in her eyes? Whatever it was, Christine kept it to herself. All she ever said was "He's not that bad when you get to know him."
You sure as hell didn't want to get to know him any more than you already did.
It was worse enough that you had to see him all the time.
He was in Christine's presence constantly – loitering around her office whenever they had a second of time to spare or interfering in lunch breaks and conversations you had meant to have with her. Of course, they were colleagues and their shared work was commendable, so in some way it seemed like Strange counted a lot on her opinion – whether it was going over cases together, creating a new surgical procedure, bothering her with preparation for speeches or events.
There was not a day you didn't run into him at the hospital either. As to be expected, you mostly saw him in the OR, where you had to assist him because it was your job, where you had to do his bidding in order to ensure a successful surgery. You never let your opinion of Strange influence the way you worked with him, passing tools from hand to hand. If anything, you've learned plenty about neurosurgery and the surgeon himself in your time assisting him.
But being constantly put on the same shifts with Strange also meant you saw a lot more of him during an entire work week than you would have wanted to. All you got to see of him outside the OR was not convincing you to seek out even more of him.
Plus, you were pretty sure that Stephen Strange had no fucking interest in getting to know you either. He knew you were friends with Christine, he seemed to hold no grudge against you personally, had never complained about the times you worked together at the operating table, but he was as indifferent as he always was with others. Constantly referring to you by your last name. Tending to ignore you whenever you came across each other in Christine's presence. Certainly not going out of his way to be particularly nice to you.
Sometimes you understood.
Neurosurgery was nothing for the faint of heart.
They all took hours and hours in the OR sometimes, remaining up on their feet and concentrated for a really long time. Surgeries were challenging, nerve-wrecking, tiring. Emergencies were most stressful. Of course, everything had to be in place for the head surgeon right in time, everyone needed to be prepared for complications at the worst times, everyone needed to stay focused and ready for the surgeon's requirements.
That was the job you had signed up for and you didn't require Doctor Strange to use a kind tone in the OR. You didn't mind that he scoffed at his staff occasionally or that he wasn't thanking you for doing the basic assistant work.
What you minded was that Strange sometimes used others as a personal punching bag when something wasn't going right, making sure to point out everyone's mistakes, except his own of course.
And this had almost gone terribly wrong.
Though it was neither your teams nor the doctor's fault that the scans had failed to show the true expense of the tumor of your most recent patient, it was a certain someone's fault for wanting to make the impossible possible.
The entire surgical team had advised Stephen Strange not to do it, to not even try to touch that tumor after opening the patient up, but he had been so convinced of his surgical skills that he tried it anyways, wanting to please his own god complex like he just loved to do.
Only a couple of minutes later, though working with a calm and steady hand as usual, he had to calmly admit to his personal mistake and stopped whatever he had planned in his genius mind when he noticed he had underestimated that tumor, having unfortunately triggered some hemorrhage that disabled him to keep on operating. Instead of a resection, he now had to opt for clipping the bleeding, which was a difficult and stressful change of action for the lot of them – not impossible, but looking at the great schemes of things preventable, had he listened.
The team had barely managed to stabilize the patient's condition after he had done his best to fix the mistake.
You could tell that Strange was in a sour mood, his inflated ego having taken quite the damage after realizing that playing god didn't work out for him so well sometimes and needing to admit his personal failure, while he was closing the patient up again, tumor remaining in place.
Even so, you thought he should count himself lucky and were thoroughly relieved that him acting out had not taken this man's life. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to drop a negative comment about what had happened to the surgeon himself, who was already tense and on edge from his failed attempt.
Instead you had decided to say something nice, whatever had made you get this idea.
"I've never seen such a massive tumor. It would have taken hours of preparation to even ensure a partial resection. Let alone a miracle to get rid of it entirely", you so casually mentioned to the doctor as you were getting changed side by side like so often, the only two remaining in the locker room.
You were hardly ever chatty around him, neither was he with you. And yeah, you were very aware he could get nasty in one of his moods, so perhaps opening your mouth to him now wasn't a smart decision. However, you were a fairly decent person, his colleague, showing sympathy when it was due, and you were under the impression that he could use a kind word.
Stephen Strange was arrogant and a downright asshole sometimes, but only human – and like any other person he had made a mistake, a lapse of judgment. While it shouldn't have happened in the OR or almost cost a person's life, there was no way of turning time back to prevent it. He had owned up to it by admitting his defeat and would carry the possible consequences.
"It was the right decision to stop. A good decision. You did what you could. Going on would have been too big of a risk and I'm glad you managed to clip it entirely."
Strange grumbled a little, seemingly ignoring your comment at first and wordlessly slipping out of his scrubs to reveal a sight you knew all too well for getting undressed in the same room quite regularly.
And dear lord, the sight of him only.
You were too defeated after the chaos in the OR to keep yourself from looking. Wasn't it annoying how good he looked too? As much as you hated his smug face, he was a painfully attractive man. Taking good care of himself and his body, certainly fitting in the occasional work-out between shifts. What he lacked in personality, decency for one, this body made up.
Judging by looks alone, couldn't let your gaze wander too often or obvious, the man was likely sporting a big dick too – and to say the least, Strange might not have been very desirable when it came to character, but you were certain he would be a good fuck.
"Bleeding was horrid, yeah, but as I said... a partial resection still should have been possible. But for that I would need a team that backs me up when it gets critical and doesn't retreat when things seem a little more challenging", the surgeon eventually spoke, “Didn't help that everyone was so stressed out all of the sudden, threw me a little off guard.”
As soon as he had opened his mouth, every positive impression or thought you had ever harvested for him seemed to instantly leave the room, the building, the city and Earth itself. His enormous ego was once again infuriating you.
The audacity alone to claim what he had just said made you see red.
Everyone on your surgical team was used to Strange, he was used to all of you. You worked together well, hand in hand, especially when things were tough!
It wasn't any of your jobs to kiss his ass because it suited him better, and that very well included giving him counterpoints in the OR, in order to prevent him from pushing past the limits. Which he had done. Which would have gone wrong hadn't you all been there to assist him in undoing the mistake.
And yet he had just said that, convinced of his god-like ability, accusing your team was at fault, denying that he was fallible like any other human being.
While you had really meant to be nice to him and not to scratch his already vulnerable ego any further, that was one word too much.
Stephen Strange had the talent of winding you up like no one else could.
"With all respect, doctor, you can count yourself lucky that this man is still alive and didn't end up in the morgue like he almost did", you eventually snapped and it sure must have looked ridiculous: you in your underwear, furious with rage, significantly smaller than Strange himself, as you faced him.
No smug look on his face anymore, but a suddenly darkened expression, jaw tensing, his facial muscles twitching in annoyance, Strange went from zero to one-hundred real quick too.
"Watch your mouth", he snarled, sharply addressing you with your last name like he always did, though not looking any less ridiculous in his underwear. He stepped towards you with a somewhat threatening intention, obviously wanting to impose.
Strange was a broad man, healthy, strong, could have easily overpowered you. You noticed that his whole body had gone rigid with tension, fists clenched, muscles visibly tense, and on any other day you might have gladly allowed yourself to admire the sight, but not today.
You both kept your stances.
"Yeah, or what?", you spoke through gritted teeth.
"I'm warning you here", Strange replied, the air between the two of you intense and heavy with both your frustrations. Any more tension and the air might have cracked under the pressure. "Don't push it, boy. Only because you're Christine's friend doesn't mean I won't get you into serious trouble with the board."
"Threatening me now, doctor? Oh, you must really think you're so untouchable, don't you?", you snarled right back at him, almost butting heads together, so close to one another like never before, only a sliver away from actually touching.
"I'm just saying it how it is. You're a huge asshole, never able to look past your own arrogance, and you'd know how much people actually despised you if you looked left and right sometimes."
"And you're an insolent and incompetent brat. This behavior is entirely unprofessional", Strange spewed, anger and frustration glowing in his eyes, written all over his face, "and I will make sure you're going to regret this."
"You're not any better, Strange", you spoke with sheer despise and must have looked just as frustrated, facing him like this, not backing down, absolutely enraged by his stupid threats and the simple overestimation of his own person.
Brows furrowed, nostrils blowing furiously, so up in each others personal space that you felt his warm, heavy breath on him, standing there in nothing but your underwear, bodies tense with every single second and then... all hell broke loose.
Strange took another step forward, grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you backwards into the lockers, with a little more force than you had initially expected. The sudden impact made you groan in pain, your back colliding with the cold metal doors, as the other man now held you wedged between them and him.
Your heart leaped in your chest, your breath hitched for a moment. Because you hadn't expected this form of aggressiveness from him, the sheer dominance, getting so physical when it could get him in serious trouble to assault someone in such a way, even as a doctor. Especially as a doctor.
But facing him like this, it wasn't fear that surged through your body. No, definitely not fear. It turned you on.
"Fuck you", you just said, trying to push back and shove him away, slamming the flats of your palms against his pecs. Though when you noticed that you had no way of escaping, Strange's hot and tense body keeping you trapped, him being so much stronger than you were, your brain simply short-circuited.
Instead of struggling against him further, you leaned towards him and clashed your mouths together in a whim, immediately thinking to yourself that whatever you were doing right was really foolish.
You would have expected anything from this unpredictable man, being shoved to the side, being called slurs, perhaps even being truly physically hurt after doing something so ridiculously stupid – but all the doctor did, while seemingly surprised by the action, was pressing his mouth right back onto yours, almost hungrily, teeth digging into your bottom lip.
Strange was responding to your attempt of a kiss, the both of you pouring all of your sheer anger into it. Teeth clashing and biting, tongues plundering each others mouths, he kept you pressed up against the locker with all of his body, his hands holding you in place, nudging his thigh between your legs which definitely added onto your undeniable arousal.
"You're terrible and I hate you", you groaned against his lips once gasping for air, though wasting no time to pull him in close again, hand sliding into the doctor's hair as you tugged hard on it, the other finding his upper back, fingers digging into his shoulders to a point where you knew it was likely going to hurt him.
You were hoping it would leave stinging marks for him to remember this.
"Feeling's mutual", Strange hissed into the kiss, thigh pressing further into your growing hardness, holding onto your waist with a firm grip, fingers digging into your skin so tightly that you almost hoped they would bruise you too.
"Look at you, like a little slut, getting all hard and desperate when someone treats you like deserve it", he continued on, the low gravel of his voice sending shivers up your spine, the bite of his harsh words even more so sparking your arousal.
"Yeah, as if you're not into it", you replied immediately, knowing that Strange was hard too, feeling him pressed up against your leg. Something within you screamed to be taken apart right here, like this, wanted the doctor to use you, to fuck the frustration right out of the both of you. You had no idea why that sounded like such a good idea.
"Why not be a man of your word and put me in my place?", you asked quietly, suggestively, kissing him hard once again, catching his lip between your teeth and biting down, earning yourself a scowl.
When Strange pulled away, you could make out his dark pupils dilating in those icy blue eyes, a gaze full of lust, his lips parted with heavy breaths seeping through, red and swollen.
He didn't reply anything and let go for a moment to grab you hard by the shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You could hardly stop yourself from being shoved into the lockers again, bracing yourself up against them with your hands, back arched, displaying your ass to him quite nicely.
“Remember you asked for it”, he growled then, seeming amenable to give you what you what, pushing his hips into yours. Now you could definitely feel that Strange was hard, pressing up against the curve of your ass.
You reveled in the feeling for a moment, fearing that it might be gone in the blink of an eye, but something told you he wasn't going to let it go now. He wouldn't back down, not after this amount of disrespect.
As it happened to be, without a single precaution, he nearly ripped your underwear off you, leaving you entirely bare and in anticipation of whatever he was going to do to next. You were shuddering, the cold of the room brushing over your body, goosebumps forming, but remained standing steady even as the doctor's hands returned to you.
Skilled surgeons hands, kneading your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, as fingers delved between them, brushing over your needy hole. Even just the touch made your breath hitch, feeling his fingertips circling the sensitive ring of muscles, and god, your cock was already stirring in interest, leaking a pathetic trickle of precum.
How was he turning you on this much?
"Do you have any idea how much you rile me up all the fucking time? How often you make me want to bend you over the operating table? How much I want to teach you a lesson whenever you're getting snappy in the OR? You're such a damn brat, it makes me wanna do all kinds of things to you", Strange mewled into your ear, kissing the spot behind it, moving down to suck hard on your neck again, bruising you, biting you, “I bet you'll look so pretty on my cock. Gonna fuck you raw, would you like that?”
"You owe it to me, Strange", you moaned, surprised by his words. Him? Riled up by you? Wanting to bend him over? Wanting to discipline him? For how long had he been having these fantasies?
He didn't leave you much time to go on wondering. You heard the man spit then, feeling a trickle of wetness being spread around your hole, a single digit easing into you, accompanied by the slight burn of the stretch, though not unfamiliar.
Would have been better with preparation, but this would do. You would let him fuck you like this.
"I knew you were gonna be a real cockslut", the doctor mused but seemed to be a man of his word, spreading more of his spit over your hole, working you open with precise movements, like one would expect from someone with such skilled hands. Two fingers in, you couldn't have cared any less if anyone found the two of you like this. You were gone and beyond as those fingers found your sweet spot, their intrusion leaving a nice burning stretch, then brushing over your prostate, making your cock jolt in response, a moan slipping passed your lips.
"Gosh, can't you just fuck me already?", you begged, thighs already shaking from the stimulation, especially the way he seemed so keen on prodding your prostate all over again.
"Oh, we're getting there and I'll make sure you'll remember it well", Strange growled at you, pulling his fingers back, "Gonna make you feel me all night, all day, all week. Every time you get in here, every time you see me in the OR, you'll think of this.”
It sounded more like a promise than a threat though. You just knew Strange would fuck you unforgettably well. It wouldn't matter how rough or angry it would be, and you craved to feel it all week, even just as a reminder that you had fucked Stephen Strange, out of all people.
"Stop talking so much", you bit back, feeling the tip of the doctor's cock gently nudging your hole, smearing more spit and his own precum all over you, before finally pushing in, the intrusion of his impressive length making you gasp.
The long-awaited stretch of a cock inside of you was sudden and damn, Strange was filling you out good, to the point where you certainly needed a moment to adjust to all his girth and might, finding it hard to breathe.
Balling your hands into fists, you took deep breaths through your nose, but pressed back into him, making sure to allow all of the man in. “G-god, knew you'd have a huge cock”, you huffed out, eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it would do nothing but stroke his ego. However you just didn't care about the size of it anymore now that he was fully sheathed inside of you, leaving you rather focused on the size of something else.
"Fuck, you're damn tight", the doctor groaned, stilling inside of you for a moment, noticing that you needed the time to get used to him, which was in some way almost kind. His large, precise hands came to rest on your waist, holding onto you, absentmindedly stroking the skin there.
"Already regretting this?", he mocked, fingers squeezing into the softness of your flesh, but didn't start moving yet.
"No", you huffed, unashamed to add the next comment as you deemed yourself more than ready, "And you should start moving before I get bored."
That certainly stirred up a fire in Strange again, though perhaps less out of anger and frustration, now shrouded with desire and lust and the challenge to make you feel all of him. He began moving painstakingly slow at first, pulling slightly back before thrusting into you without holding back, and then settled quickly on fucking you hard and deep, filling you out so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot within you immediately.
The two of you were soon enough in a complete trance, Strange's eager and hard thrusts, his cock stretching you out all over again, both of you moaning and groaning and panting heavily, your legs almost giving in as the rapid strokes sent a shudder through your entire body, the metal of the locker doors rattling under the sheer force of your coupling.
You couldn't focus on anything else than the waves of pleasure all through your body, the thought that you liked being used by Strange like this, how glad you were the anger and the frustration was fucked right out of you by the exact man who had riled you up like that in the first place. A man you riled up just as much, who had apparently waited to put you into your place for a long time now.
The grip on your hips was bruising, Strange's mouth must have left marks all over your neck, your shoulders, your upper back, as he kept on latching onto you everywhere he could reach – and you would most certainly feel the sting of being stretched out so wonderfully whenever you would try to sit down the next few days. You found it harder and harder to keep yourself upright, still bracing yourself against the lockers.
As you could feel your orgasm beginning to hit hard, crawling up your spine, white hot flashes etching in your brain, you quickly reached down to grab your painfully hard cock, tugging on yourself as the hard thrusts into you sent you over the edge, your hole clenching around the man's length, eager to keep him in place, trapping him inside of you.
Strange made an ungodly noise as you tightened around him, slumping forwards against your back and coming to his own undoing. With his head coming to rest on shoulder, cock buried within you to the hilt, he spilled himself inside of you, holding onto you as both your orgasms completely ruled over you.
It took you a while to come down from that high. The rush of passion and adrenaline had long passed, your head found some clearance again.
You sighed loudly, breathing hard, sweaty and definitely in need of a shower now. There was a distinctive ache in your body and you grew awfully aware he was still inside of you.
Strange's arm came around your middle and he simply held onto you instead of drawing away. You almost found yourself a little puzzled when the man nuzzled your neck, placing an almost gentle kiss on it, and even more so by the way you weren't fully disliking his embrace.
He asked you an odd question then too. You hadn't expected it. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah... yeah, I think I am", you answered after a moment of silence, only now noticing the mess you had made, your own cum having spurted onto one of the lockers, on the floor, covering your hand too. Even though you were sticky and kinda sore, it made you grin. He'd sure fucked you good.
You were definitely going to feel the burn for days to come and would not forget about your interaction any time soon. You sure hoped that neither would he.
"Are you?", you asked him, not even knowing why you were trying to respond with the same kindness. It didn't match the situation at all, didn't match the smell of sex hanging in the air, didn't match the fact you had literally just fucked your frustration out of each other, the argument entirely dissolved – for Lord's sake, you could feel his cum trickling down your thighs, once Strange eased his hold and pulled out of you, and yet you were chatting each other up so casually.
"More than", the doctor admitted, "I think we settled that argument at least."
You wriggled out of his grip, turning around in his arms, facing the man that now seemed a lot more relaxed and calm, not angry or upset anymore in the slightest, though just as messy and disheveled as yourself.
The tension had just been whiffed away.
"We did", you mused, oddly talkative after just getting your brain fucked out.
You pondered whether to say something else, whether to just shut up and go your ways, whether to confront him about what had just happened and what it would mean for the two of you.
He was still looking at you, questioning, perhaps even waiting for you to add something. So after a slight pause, you did.
"What happened in the OR today was unfortunate. What you said made me angry and sure, you're an arrogant asshole and I don't agree with the things you do sometimes. I get annoyed by you on the regular, but I didn't actually mean it when I said that I hate you. If anything, I'm kind of surprised by you.”
“Why, didn't think I'd dare to fuck you?”, Strange chuckled, probably unsure what you were meaning to tell him – you didn't quite know yourself – and no longer looked at you in disapproval, but like he was in good spirits. There was this cockiness to him again, something to usually disliked, though in the afterglow it more so wanted to make you smile.
“Well yeah”, you shrugged, “Didn't think you'd be interested.”
“I was pissed off after fucking up and then of course it had to be you approaching me. So as I've said... I've been feeling some type of way about you before. I shouldn't have said you're incompetent, because you're not. I find you irritating and annoying. You are a brat, no doubt, and I've wanted to fuck that out of you for a long time. Didn't think you'd let me, especially not that way. It was kinda hot", he replied nonchalantly, bending down to pick up both your underwear from the ground, handing yours over.
“So you're saying you're actually into me?”
“I said I wanted to put you in your place and fuck you, which I just did. But maybe, just maybe, Christine is right after all and I should get to know you."
"Funny. She told me the same thing", you responded, opening your locker to grab a towel and the bag with toiletries, thinking that you would now definitely have to hit the showers, needing to get rid of all your traces, at least the once you could get rid of. Your skin was stinging was his marks and you sure were sore. But damn, hadn't that been just worth it.
It was weird to suddenly see Strange in such a different light.
"Well, considering she might have a point, we cleared the air, we both know the sex will be good... maybe we could go for a coffee sometime?", he asked, picking his own stuff from the locker.
"Asking me on a date now, Doctor Strange?", you wondered, looking him over in all his naked glory and musing whether it would really be a good idea to get to know him beyond the OR, not quite knowing where the change of heart came from all of the sudden. Couldn't have just been the sex, could it?
You had always felt some type of way about Stephen Strange. It usually hadn't been very positive and it didn't help you faced a bunch of conflicting feelings now, not knowing what to make of this.
He would certainly make for another good fuck, you had no doubts about that, and it would be worth it, if going for a coffee together meant getting to fuck him in a proper bed some day. Strange would certainly still make you mad and put you off plenty of times, especially with his attitude and all, but as had been proven today, it definitely ensured some hot sex.
Could it be more than just sex one day? Maybe it was a bit too early to think about that.
"Would it be that weird if I was? I already fucked you, so I might as well go on a coffee date with you", Strange shrugged, looking you over in return, eyes raking over you like he could have devoured you another time right there, right then.
"Look at you being all chivalrous. Do you even know my first name, doctor?", you couldn't repress the cheeky question.
"Don't be silly, I can read a name tag. Though I think, brat suits you just fine", the older man stated, giving you a wink and a cocky smile, before throwing the towel over his shoulder and heading off to the bathroom.
Stephen Strange sure was a man to behold.
#k writes#stephen strange x male reader#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange#doctor strange#surgeon strange#surgeon stephen strange#marvel fanfiction#doctor strange smut#stephen strange smut#x male reader
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Tw: book junkie
#aubreyad#🍻#aubrey/maturin#aubrey Maturin#books#debs reads#master and commander#age of sail#i love the cover#jack aubrey#Stephen maturin#yesterday I introduced 2 of my friends to Aubreyad and#HOW WE WHEEZED AT#LESSER#OF TWO#WEEVILS#they DIED#surgeon's mate#more like#surgeon's M8#Patrick O'Brian
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A very fruitful interview
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'Stephen lunged back with all his force and threw himself to the ground, roaring and bawling, “Stop thief, stop thief. Pickpockets. Keyne and Abel, a rescue, a rescue”, making an infernal noise, lashing about, grasping arms and legs. He brought one man down and bit him till he screamed – they heaved him bodily up, but by now it was too late.'
never forget that, although he is a crack shot and expert duellist, stephen's first fighting instinct is to roll around on the ground yelling and biting people
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