Someone Like You Too
Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Age gap, flirtation, mentions of tattoos (?). Smut: fingering, unprotected PinV, pet names, Doctor kink (?), hair pulling, dominant behavior (male). timeline? canon? never heard of them.
Word Count: 7,663
Reading time: ≈ 28 mins.
A/N: I'M BACK BITCHES!!! at least for this little update. pt. 3 to dbf!stephen for my lil’ sluts <3
Pt. 1: Someone Like You
Pt. 2: It's Been Five Years
18+ below the cut or I haunt you like a ghost from ur past!
Your stomach turned as the elevator bell dinged, signaling your arrival at the top floor of the luxury apartment complex you’d been sent the address for. You padded down the hallway looking carefully at the number on each door, feeling incredibly out of place in the marble floored halls. Suddenly you wondered if your denim skirt, silk tank, cardigan, and Docs were appropriate for the occasion. The people in this building could likely take one look at your faux gold jewelry and smell that it was cheap.
You knew you were out of your league, but you’d pushed yourself. It was like Alexis always said: ‘When life gives you an opportunity you either do it or do it scared.’
You were definitely scared, but you were still doing it.
You paused in front of the doorway with the shining silver numbers 616. From inside you could hear music playing… soft rock, you thought. You looked down and smoothed over your skirt and the silky material of your shirt, picking off a fuzz from your cardigan. Clutching your purse at your side you quickly reached out and knocked on the door.
When the door opened your breath caught as you came face to face with Doctor Strange. You couldn’t help the soft smile that spread on your lips as he looked down at you, your heart dipping into your stomach with all your nerves. He gestured you inside without saying a word and you quickly stepped through the door, leaving the rest of the world and your inhibitions in the hallway.
Strange immediately took your bag and hung it next to the door. You were shocked but pleasantly surprised when he stooped down to wrap his arms around you. You let out a little sigh and reciprocated the action, throwing your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck.
“Hey, Sweetheart.” He murmurs softly, pulling back to look at you as he asks, “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Really good.” You answer honestly, “The grand opening was a success and the shop is beautiful.”
He smiles at you softly, “I’m glad to hear it.” He nods toward the apartment and says, “C’mon in. I’ve got snacks and wine… fire is on. You must be cold, you haven’t got a real coat on.”
You smile sheepishly and pull your cardigan around you tighter, “I just forgot it… I was in a rush.”
“Just couldn’t wait to see me…” He teases with a wink before taking your hand and leading you further into the apartment.
So sleek. So modern. It was fifty shades of grey in a room… minus the whips and cuffs. At least that you could see so far. Doctor Strange sat you down on the couch and gestured to the plate of baked burrata and plenty of crispy little toast pieces around it. He reached for some bottle of red or another and uncorked it with ease, grabbing one of the glasses and giving a solid pour. He passed it to you and just the brush of his fingers against yours sent sparks up your arms. He watched as you took a small sip, his brow furrowing.
You looked around the living room and were shocked by the almost sterile nature of the place he supposedly lived. The hotel room you’d convened in once had more personality than this place. It was nice, it just wasn’t for you. It was cold and impersonal… a reflection of what the rest of the world saw from Doctor Stephen Strange.
“You’re nervous.” He notes, his voice startling you from your silent observation
You give an awkward smile and ask, “Is it that obvious?”
“A bit.” He says, pouring himself some wine as well, “You know you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to? And you’re free to leave—“
“No.” You object quickly, “It’s not… it’s not that, Doctor Strange. I do want to be here, I just…”
“Your dad, right?” He interjects. You blink at him dumbly and he explains, “You’re all he’s talked about for the last month. I assumed you two must have made up. I was curious to see whether or not you’d show up tonight.”
The call had come late one night while you and Alexis were busy getting your individual work rooms set up. You were standing on a very wobbly step ladder, painting stars in silver and gold across the deep blue ceiling you had painted earlier in the day. When your phone went off you jumped out of your skin. Even more odd, it was your father’s old ringtone. You hadn’t heard that song come from your speaker in ages… since the last time you’d seen him, actually.
You’d slowly but surely made your way down the step ladder, carefully setting your plate of paint on the desk you’d built earlier in the day. Wiping your hands on the old tee you had specially for painting purposes you snatched up your phone and watched it ring for a moment longer before swiping to answer the call.
“Hi… dad.”
“Hey, Hon.” There was a bit of an awkward pause before he asked, “Are you back home?”
You gave a displeased grunt and accused, “You’ve talked to mom.”
He let out a heavy sigh but agreed, “I did. Of course I did. She thought I’d like to know my daughter was moving across the country for the second time in her life.” Another tense pause before, “It’s a shame I have to hear it from her.”
“Dad…” You groaned quietly, reaching up to wipe your forehead with the back of your arm, “Why would I speak to you after the last time we talked? Be real, please.”
“I know, I know.” He rushes quickly, “I know how I spoke to you was… unfair.”
“You told me I was the largest disappointment you’ve ever faced.” You bit out, “You told me that doing what I love was a waste of my life.” Your voice cracked as you said, “It was the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Hon, I know—“
“I was a good girl. All I ever did was try to please you. I graduated top of my class, I only kept friends you liked, I only dated boys with your approval, I… I did everything for you!” You’d practically yelled into the phone. “I was everything you asked me to be for eighteen years, and when I finally found out what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be, you decided I wasn’t enough for you! Do you know how bad that hurt?”
“I do.” He says immediately, “I know how awful I made you feel, trust me. Your mom gave me an earful for it—“
“Good!”
“But, I’ve thought about it a lot. And you’re right. What I said to you was awful. I was a terrible father in that moment.” He took a moment to think before asking, “If you’re not ready to see me, I understand. However, if you’re up for it, I’d like to take you to dinner and apologize. We can talk it out.”
You were breathing heavily by that point, your chest heaving as angry tears collected in your waterline. You were tired, you were emotionally exhausted, but more than that you were shell-shocked. You hadn’t expected to be having that conversation that night.
“I need time to think about it, Dad.” You finally murmured, “Let me think about it.”
There was the smallest bit of hope in his tone when he’d agreed, “Alright. I’m going to make us reservation for next Friday night… I’ll send you the details. I’ll be happy to see you if you show up. If not, I’ll give you time and you can reach back out when you’re ready. Alright?”
You’d nodded to the empty room and agreed, “That’s fair.”
“All right.” He’d said softly over the other side of the line. If you weren’t mistaken you heard your voice crack as he said, “I love you, Hon. I’ll… I’ll see you when I see you.”
And because you were a good girl, and somewhere deep down still his little girl you echoed, “I love you, Dad.” Before quickly hanging up the phone.
You immediately collapsed in a heap on your office floor. Your legs pulled up to your chest and your face buried in between. Heavy sobs wracked your body and before you knew it you were wrapped in Lexi’s arms. She pulled you into a hug and shushed you gently, stroking her hand through your greasy hair. You hadn’t showered in days due to all the renovations you were performing at the shop. You weren’t sure how long you spent there sobbing on the floor like a child, but it felt good. You’d only cried over him once after that last time you saw him. Maybe you were making up for lost time.
When you finally pulled your head from between Lexi’s shoulder, she tsked and reached up on your desk to grab a roll of paper towels, tearing off a sheet and cooing, “Oh, you poor thing.” She wiped at your nose and dried your tears carefully, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just came to check on you when you raised your voice. I’m glad I stayed though. It was your Daddy you were talking to, wasn’t it? Evil man—“
“H-he wants to s-s-see me.” You’d choked out, “He said he w-wants to make things right.” A low whine came from your throat as you rubbed the heels of your hands against your eyes, “He apologized— he admitted he was wrong. I figured after three years nothing was gonna’ change.”
She smiled at you softly and said optimistically, “Well maybe he needed those three years to change. Maybe he needed time to see what he was missing without you in his life, Sugar.”
“I’m… I’m still so scared to see him.” You said meekly
You’d always been a bit of a scaredy cat. As a little girl and even now, the unknown was horrifying to you. Some days the anxiety of the unknown petrified you. You figured that’s why your art had led you to tattooing of all professions. There was a process, a set of rules, and a careful understanding between the client and the professional.
“What have I always told you about being scared, hm?” Alexis prompted, “When we get an opportunity to do it, we can either do it, or…”
“Do it scared.” You’d said softly, “But either way, we do it.”
“That’s right.” She agreed, “Maybe this time you just have to do it scared.”
Scared you were as you walked into that old steakhouse still running strong after all these years. Your father’s favorite place hadn’t changed even if he had. The chandeliers still shined with that same soft, warm lighting. The white tablecloths were pristine, and the waitstaff dressed in their same attire. You doubted that the menu had changed at all either. In a way, that was comforting. This place you were familiar with. There were bits and pieces of your history scattered throughout. The table you, your father, and your mother had sat around for your thirteenth birthday. The booth where you and your first boyfriend had been placed for your six-month anniversary dinner. The table for two in the back where you had once sat with Doctor Stephen Strange after your father had had to cancel your dinner date last minute…
Doctor Strange. Yet another problem you had to solve, and the solution would largely depend on how tonight went. If you and your father managed to fix things you couldn’t contact Strange… could you? The last time you’d seen Strange it hadn’t seemed as though he and your father were on speaking terms, but all the same, they had still been good friends. If you and your father patched things up it would be wrong. It would be a complete betrayal of the trust you’d earn back, and you didn’t want that. No, you couldn’t do this whole thing over again. Doctor Strange’s number would remain untouched just as it had for the last six months.
When you gave the hostess your father’s last name she guided you over to the booth where your father already sat. He stood and you watched as his eyes took you in from head to toe. You’d chosen to wear a cute little pantsuit that you’d bought a while back. It was a wine-red color with three pieces; The pants, the blazer, and the slightly cropped strapless shirt underneath. You’d left it unbuttoned for a bit more of a casual look, but your hair was pulled back neatly. Gold jewelry adorned your neck and several different piercings in your ears compliments of Alexis. Your black heels barely peeked out beneath the red fabric, but it was clear from your added height that they were present. The pantsuit had a two-fold purpose: It looked sleek and professional, and also covered a majority of your tattoos… besides the one that now sat front and center on your chest, which was a bitch to hide with anything but a turtle neck.
Your father outstretched his arms and received you warmly with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured, “You look lovely… all grown up.”
You gave him a tight smile and nodded, “Not quite all grown up, but I think I’ve gotten through the worst of it.”
“Here’s to hoping.” He chuckled, nodding to the bottle of wine already on the table, “Would you like some?”
“What is it?”
“A pinot grigio… good to pair with shellfish and I remember how much you loved their lobster.”
You nod, “I do. And sure, I’ll have a little.” The two of you remind silent as he poured the wine, and he watched carefully as you took a small sip, tilting your head back and forth as you tasted it and declared, “A bit dry for me, but still very nice. I prefer red, but I know that’s probably a bit much for seafood.”
“Probably so, but I’d be happy to get you a glass of red if that’s what you wanted.”
“Oh, no! Really, it’s fine.” You argue, picking up your menu, “Thank you, though.”
You can feel his eyes on you for a while before he asks, “How has the shop been? You opened on Monday.”
“We did.” You agree with a small smile, “And it was wonderful. The grand opening was amazing… I met so many of the locals that follow me on Instagram and I’m booked solid for the next year with more and more emails coming in. Alexis— my business partner— and I both. And the shop is just beautiful. We funded it all on our own and it looks exactly how we dreamed it would.” You gush, smile growing wider by the second before you reel yourself in, giving an awkward clearing of your throat and a sheepish smile, “So… very good.”
Your dad quirks a little half-smile of his own and announces, “I’d like to meet Alexis sometime if she’d be up for it.”
“Oh?”
“Of course. If she’s a good friend of yours, I’d like to meet her. Maybe I can even come look at the shop someday?” He suggests hesitantly, a bit of hope in his voice
Well, damn. He was really trying.
You nod, “You could come by someday while I’m on break… or before we open. We don’t close until ten and I know my old man has a strict eight o’ clock curfew.”
“I do.” He chuckles, “But I could break it if there’s no other time.” His eyes fall to the tattoo piece on your chest and you feel your cheeks heat with a bit of embarrassment. There was nothing wrong with the tattoo. It was on the smaller side, and even if the placement was a bit risqué it had been placed there for symmetry’s sake. A little honey bee surrounded by little sprigs of forget-me-nots. “That one is new.” He notes nonchalantly
You reach up and press a hand over it, “Three months healed.”
“It’s…” He searches for a minute to find a word that will suit both you and him before settling on, “Pretty.”
“I thought so.” You agree
“Is it your work?”
“I drew it, yes.”
“Very pretty.” He repeats
You take in a small breath and recall, “Last time you saw my tattoos you said I looked like a ‘cheap whore.’”
Your father winces but acknowledges, “I did.” You two stare at one another before he admits, “It was wrong of me. I… I might have felt it at the time, but I see now it was a large overreaction. And even if I don’t like it— them— it’s on your body, not mine. If tattoos make you happy… I suppose they’re all right by me.”
Your eyes get a bit misty as you ask, “You mean it?”
“Of course I do.” His face softens as he reaches out to take your hands, “I… I was horrible to you that night, Y/N. I’ve thought about it every day since, but I was just so embarrassed and too proud to call you. I should have, I know I should have. You have no idea how many times I almost did—“
“I was so hurt by what you said.” You interrupt, the tears crowding your lashline further, “I worked so long for so hard to make you proud of me. That’s all I ever wanted, Dad.” You say, voice wavering, “I know I’m not what you wanted me to be. I know you were expecting a doctor or a lawyer or some sort of scientist… but I need you to know I don’t regret it. I don’t regret what I chose to do or who I am because of it. I… I wanted so long for you to love me for who I was and not who you wanted me to be.” You give a sort of shrug and look away as the first tear rolls down your cheek, “What I’m trying to say is… if you’re hoping that we’ll reconcile and I’ll be different because of it, that won’t happen. I love who I am. I don’t need you to love me.”
“Oh, Hon…” Your dad sighs. He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye as he says, “Of course I love you. Doctor or lawyer or… body artist. I just wanted the best for you. I wanted to see you succeed and I was scared to death that this career wouldn’t help you with that because there are people— people like me, I guess— who look down on it. But I see now how well you’ve done for yourself. And I know my fear doesn’t excuse my prejudice, but I’m working on it. I’m trying, okay? I’m trying for you.” He runs his thumb under your eye gently and scolds, “Stop your crying, you’ll ruin your lovely makeup.”
You give a choked little giggle and nod, “I know, I know.” You place your hand over his and murmur, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He shakes his head and denies, “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for, Honey. The fault is all mine. And I promise I’ll do better moving forward if you’ll let me. I don’t think I’ll survive another year without seeing you.”
You nod, “I forgive you.”
“Thank you.”
The rest of the dinner after that was… easy. A massive weight that had been a constant for nearly five years was lifted from your chest. It was as if you’d gotten so used to living with it there that you’d learned to breathe against it, and now, there was absolutely nothing holding you back. You smiled, you laughed, you joked… you’d missed your dad so much. You’d missed his safety and understanding. This was the last piece missing in your grand plan of moving back to New York. Well… almost the last piece. But now that you and your father were back on good terms, that little number hidden away in your cell phone was the least of your worries.
Until later that week. Until you’d been out to dinner with your father again and from across the room you’d seen Doctor Strange sitting alone at a table, indulging in food and drink, blissfully unaware you were sitting across the room from him.
Your eyes must have wandered one too many times, and eventually, your father caught on. When he turned to see who you’d been looking at he’d looked back to you with a sigh, a displeased grimace on his face.
“You and Doctor Strange used to be good friends.” You had prompted
“Yes.” He’d agreed simply
You’d allowed heavy silence to fill the space for a moment before pressing, “Are you not anymore?”
“No.” Your father says cooly, not bothering to elaborate any further than a simple, “We’re not.”
“Oh.” You give a slight frown at the red you can see grace the tips of your father’s ears. Embarrassment? Anger? “That’s… a shame. He was always nice to me.”
“Yeah, well…” Your Dad mumbles more to himself than to you, “he was nice to a lot of the women in my life, apparently.”
As you part your lips to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, the waiter returns asking what the two of you would like for dessert. Your father orders quickly before sending him away with a smile and turning back to ask, “So, tell me about the shop. Where is it?”
And that was where the topic of Doctor Strange was left for the night, a lingering feeling of dread pulling at the pit of your stomach.
“Y/N?” Stephen’s voice seemed to snap you out of your trance. You turned to look at him with bleary eyes and he prompted, “You and your dad?”
“We’re good. We’re better than we’ve been in a long time.” You pause, pulling at the sleeves of your cardigan nervously, “I um… I know you already know this and you have no reason to go talking about it, but you can’t mention a thing about me. Just… be as disinterested in me as you have been the six years I’ve been gone, yeah? Don’t raise a bit of suspicion.”
“Of course.” He agrees, his eyes falling to your waist where you wrap your cardigan around yourself tighter, the action causing you to inadvertently push your chest up.
“And I can only meet you here.” You looked a bit embarrassed as you admit, “Honestly, my place isn’t much to look at compared to this.” You wave around his penthouse, “Plus, Alexis is there at the same time I am since we work identical hours, and my dad knows where I am now. He’s been visiting quite often… I wouldn’t want him to wander over while you and I were— Doctor Strange…” You laugh, reaching out and grabbing his chin to tilt his head up, forcing him to meet your eyes, “Should I assume you were staring at my tattoo rather than my chest?”
Stephen smirks and shrugs, “Same thing.”
You tut and disagree, “No. I’ve had plenty of guys apologize because I thought I caught them staring at my tits and they were only looking at the art.”
“Both are a work of art if you ask me.”
You throw your head back laughing and shove his shoulder, “Dickhead…”
Stephen reaches out and wraps his arm around your waist, scooting closer as he notes, “It’s a new piece. Wasn’t there the last time I saw you.”
“No… a little moving present from me to me.” You explain, “My dad even said he liked it!”
Stephen grimaces, “Well now let’s hope he was admiring the actual art.”
“Ew.” You scoff
“Well don’t talk about your dad right now…” He chuckles
“Or you could just not be a pervert.”
Stephen tsks, “I thought that’s what you came here for, Sweetheart.” Hold holds up both hands and leans back, scooting to the far end of the couch and saying, “My bad, I’ll just sit here and behave like a gentleman.”
You pout and crawl over to him, reaching out and grabbing his hands, “I was only teasing, Doctor.”
“Oh no…” He fakes a pout of his own, “I’ll sit here and behave myself.”
You take in a deep breath and before you can talk yourself out of it you’re straddling his lap. You intertwine your hands behind his neck and settle your weight against his lap, batting your lashes up at him and enticing, “I don’t want you to behave.” You lean forward so your forehead rests against his own and encourage, “I want you to be bad.”
Stephen lets out a slow sigh, his hands coming up to grab your hips underneath your cardigan, eyes traveling down to see your skirt bunched up due to the spread of your legs around his waist. His thumbs trace against your sides and you give a little shiver at the soft contact, hips rocking forward ever so slightly.
“You say stop and everything stops.” Stephen says clearly, “You give me a hard limit and I won’t push it.” He looks you in the eye as he asks, “Do you have any hard limits I should know about?”
He’s shocked to hear you give a very unembarrassed explanation, “I don’t like taking it from the back and I don’t take it up ass.” Stephen gives a hearty laugh, but nods his understanding, practically beaming at you. You consider a moment longer before saying, “My safe word is ‘ink.’” Your cheeks hear as you admit, “There are still some things I’m not good at. I’m just— I’ve tried nearly everything, but Jameson was… he just wasn’t patient enough.”
Stephen nods and reassures, “I’ll be patient with you if you need it, Baby. Don’t worry about that.”
“Is there anything you don’t like?”
He gives a little smirk and answers, “I’ve done it all and I’d do it all again. Consider me open to anything. I’ll use the same safe word if need be.”
“Okay.” You nod, your nose brushing against his own, “I um… I just don’t want to disappoint—“
You’re cut off as Stephen’s lips crash into your own. You give a little whimper, shifting your hands up into his hair, pulling at the soft locks. You feel as Stephen smiles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. You lean into him, your chest pressed against your own and part your lips for him. His tongue strokes against your own, exploratory and gentle. You shift your hips forward, feeling the denim of his jeans against your barely covered sex.
He trails his lips down your neck, your head lulling back, every touch of his lips against your skin sending a thrill down your spine and straight to your cunt. Stephen gave a groan as you rocked your hips forward, attempting to get closer to him. Every little shift you gave placed friction against his cock that he couldn’t deny was incredibly pleasurable. Every time your nails scratched along his scalp he had to hold back a different sound of pleasure.
He tilted his face up slightly to watch your reaction as he moved his hands upward, one cupping your breast just to test your response. Your breath caught, but you reached up and placed your hand over his own, guiding his other hand to do the same, back arching as he groped at you. You removed your own hands to pull off your cardigan, tossing it to the floor behind you and returning to taste his lips once more.
You didn’t know how long Stephen spent grabbing and groping at you, but you weren’t going to object. His touch was divine. He seemed to know each and every place to let his hands linger, the right way to grab you, the right way to hold you as you kissed one another breathless. One hand on the back of your neck, the other pulling at the belt loops of your skirt.
Once he pulled you in just the right way, shifting your body ever so slightly so your clit managed to catch just right on the bulge in his pants. You let out a gasp, grabbing a fistful of his tee in your hands and rocking your hips to get a second taste at the sensation. Stephen laid his head back into the couch cushions and smiled up at you, both hands moving back to your hips, two fingers of each slipping through your belt loops, helping you rock back and forth against his cock.
“That’s it, Sweetheart.” He purrs, eyes falling to catch a glimpse of the lacy black panties you wore beneath your skirt, “Found a good spot, hm?” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment. Stephen chuckles, the noise reverberating around the large room, your staccato breathing the only sound to accompany it. His hands travel back to your ass where he takes a generous feel, a pleased hum leaving his lips, “You look nice up there, Baby.” He gives your ass a small slap and you gasp at the sensation, “You ever rode someone? Think you’d be real damn good at it.”
“A few times.” You answer honestly and grumble, “I hated it. He didn’t do shit.”
Stephen laughs, “Well, that’s no way to treat a lady.” He promises, “I won’t make you do all the work. And if you hate it still, we’ll switch it up. How’s that sound?”
“Good…” You moan as your clit throbs, “Feels— sounds good, I mean.”
He tuts and reaches up, taking your face in his hands and teasing, “Already losing it, Sweetheart? Barely getting started.” You were like putty in his hands as Stephen rolled you off his lap and to the side, one of your legs still straddled over his lap leaving you wide open. “That’s it, Baby. Spread those legs for me—wider— yes, good girl.”
He kept eye contact as his hand slithered up your leg before traveling back down. His touch sent goose bumps across the soft skin, your tummy turning in anticipation. He began to work his way back up your leg, eyes falling, stopping to admire the ink on your skin. His fingers would trace the outlines of the different shapes as his eyes followed, curious as always. Snake, moth, sun, rays of light… and now he could see a new image that he hadn’t gotten to all those months ago. A hand outstretched, offering up a pomegranate to an unseen person, the juice running down the person’s hand, droplets dripping from their fingertips.
You watched as he traced. He traced and teased and admired you until you were on the brink of madness. But it was good. It was nice to be admired rather than simply used. Taking your time rather than being placed straight on someone’s cock and given little stimulation before they passed out. With Doctor Strange, every touch was a different sort of stimulation. Maddening, beautiful torture.
Finally— finally— his hand cupped your core, his middle finger pressing between your lips making you squirm. He rubbed over the spot gently, feeling the wetness that had built at your core. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a low sigh, though honestly, it sounded more akin to a growl than anything else.
“Such a pretty pussy, Sweetheart.” You keen as he sinks his middle finger into your heat. It’s quick and smooth with how aroused you are, the action bringing nothing but bliss to mind. He pumps his finger in and out a few times before you feel a bit of a stretch, his ring finger joining the mix as he settles his thumb over your clit. You whimper, throwing your head back and letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “Good girl, just like that.” He coos, using his free hand to grab you around the neck and pull you back in for a long, slow, and— on your part— uncoordinated kiss.
Stephen smiles as you grind upward, fucking yourself on his fingers, pretty eyes fluttering open and closed as you murmur things like, ‘So good, Doctor,’ and ‘Need more,’ or ‘Please…’ over and over again. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whining and moaning at the feeling of his fingers curling inside you. Your gasp echos through his head as he adds his index finger, stretching you to what he was certain was his sweet little girl’s limit. The wet sounds produced by his fingers plunging in and out of your hole make his cock throb with need.
“Pussy takes my fingers so well, Baby.” He says, “Gonna’ take my cock the same way, yeah? Right after you cum all over my hand gonna put you on my dick, let you ride it until you cum like that too.”
“Yes. Yes, Doctor.” You whine, your lips trailing up and down his neck, every once in a while pausing to nibble at the skin making Strange sigh, “I want your cock now, please. I’m ready. M’so wet.” Your words leave in short little pants, legs trembling from the amount of stimulation to your g-spot. His thumb against your clit has you seeing stars with every thrust of his fingers.
“Uh-uh.” He grumbles, “Cum around my fingers first. I know you’re close. These pretty little legs are shaking.” He grins as you let out a moan, wrapping one arm around his neck while your other balls up his shirt in your fist. “Come on…” He pistons his fingers in and out of your hole, muttering lowly, “Come for me. Been waiting all this time to see how you fall apart. Imagined it for years.”
Stephen had heard about it before... seen it in a porno or two actually. Some women’s orgasms were so intense that it was a full-body experience. He’d just never seen it in person. He watched in amazement as your whole body seized in his hold as you came, legs shaking so hard he wondered if you’d be able to stand after the fact. High-pitched moans fell from your lips as you clawed at his shoulders and chest. He didn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but graciously took his thumb from your clit, certain a moment longer would send you hurtling toward overstimulation. Your hips didn’t stop their grinding either, merely slowing down.
Stephen whispered to you, praising you for summing for him, how pretty the sight of your body shaking for him was, how he couldn’t wait to watch you fall apart like that on top of him. “That’s it… shit. That’s a good fucking girl.” He growls in your ear, “Cum so pretty for me.” He kisses the top of your head, slowing the push and pull of his fingers inside you, “Got you nice and stretched out too. You still want my cock, Sweetheart?”
“Yes please, Doctor.” You murmur hazily, “Wanna’ feel you inside me now.”
Stephen chuckles, carefully prying you from his body to work on stripping himself down. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he sits up and pulls off his shirt, a long, toned torso revealed as a result. You reach out and trace the little freckles and moles dotting his skin as he reaches down to unzip his way-too-tight jeans. You stopped him, bringing your own hand down to do the honors.
Stephen throws his arms behind his head as he watches your fingers pop open the button of his fly. You unzip the jeans carefully, catching Stephen off guard when you promptly wiggle your hand inside, groping his balls through the fabric of his boxers. He lets out a moan, head thrown back giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss and lick up the column of his throat as you continue to massage his balls.
Suddenly entirely impatient Stephen grabs at the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, lifting his hips and shedding both in one go. You reach to strip off your tank top as Stephen pulls at your skirt roughly, forcing it over your hips and around your knees as you clumsily kneel on the couch, hands wandering from your own body back to his, desperate to keep a hold on him, scared he’ll disappear if you look away for even a minute. You rip your bra over your head as Stephen makes a grab for you, pulling you over so you’re back to straddling his lap, one knee on either side of his legs, panties still pushed to the side, neither of you feeling patient enough to remove them at this point.
Stephen grabs your face and crushes his lips against yours, the slow, experimental kisses from earlier gone, replaced by a need and longing fostered for nearly a decade. His hands are in your hair, yours roaming across his stomach, chest, and shoulders. You’re both breathless, moaning into one another’s mouths as you reach down, taking his cock in hand. You don’t even give yourself time to take a look at his cock before you’re sinking down on it, and shit that man had a big dick. You slammed your hips down over him, not caring about the consequences, you’d been prepped well enough.
Stephen lets out a groan. One hand wraps around your throat as the other comes down over the globe of your ass cheek while he demands, “Ride me, Sweetheart. Use my cock for a bit before I turn this pretty pussy into a cock sleeve.”
You moan, throwing your head back as you begin to move your hips up and down. Doctor Strange pulls you flush against his chest, your face landing against the back of the couch as Strange’s hands both move to grope at your ass, his hands working to help you move on his impressive length. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with both of your moans and groans.
“Feels so fucking good.” He bites out, lips trailing across your shoulder and down your arm as far as he can reach. “Pretty body feels so good.” His hands travel from your ass up to your shoulders and back down, “Doing such a good job, don’t know what the fuck that asshole from Georgia was so impatient for. You feel fucking perfect. You’re doing so goddamn good for me, Baby. Just keep bouncing on my cock like that.”
You moan at the praises, pussy clenching around his cock, hands finding their way back into his hair where you pull, lips finding their way to his ear where you attempt to leave little nibbles and kisses only to end up leaving more breathy mews and little gasps of pleasure. Every little noise you made sent shivers up Stephen’s spine, his cock twitching, chest swelling with pride knowing how good you felt.
You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the steady pounding of your pussy, the sharp friction against your clit from the subtle bump and grind motion while you bounce along his cock. You’ve just cum not more than ten minutes ago but you already feel the fresh tingle of a quickly approaching orgasm.
“S’big, Doctor.” You mumble, hardly coherent, “Cock’s so big. I-it feels so good.”
“Yeah, Baby?”
“Mhm.” You manage to squeak out, “Feels exactly how I dreamed it would. O-oh, God…”
Stephen smirks, his strong arms suddenly bringing your bouncing to a halt. He brings his hands up and grabs your arms, pulling them behind your back and using one of his own to hook through at your elbows, effectively clipping your wings. You try to start your movement again, but the doctor just hold you there, hovering with only half his cock buried inside you.
Looking up at you he asks, “Is this how it looked in your dreams, Sweetheart? What did it look like when I fucked you in your dreams all those years ago?”
You wiggle your hips a bit, heat creeping up your neck and into your ears as you admit, “I-I would think about us in my bedroom. I’d think about seducing you and you… you being my first.” Your walls squeeze around him as you say, “I always thought you’d be gentle with me then.”
He raises a brow, “Do you want me to be gentle with you now?”
“God no.” You breathe out shakily
He searches your eyes for a moment before a wicked smile curves his lips and he agrees, “Good.” Before fucking up into you, his balls slapping against your ass as your legs shake.
“Oh my God!” You cry out, “Stephen, fuck!”
You fall forward, keeping your ass raised as Stephen pushes his hips upward, his hands under your thighs to aid in keeping you up while he fucks upward into you. Your moans are all he can hear as he plunges in and out of your heat, your wet, warm walls wrapped tight around him. He reaches up and grabs the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you back so he can look at your face.
“Told you I was gonna’ use you like a cock sleeve. Just letting me use you how I want.” He fake pouts at you whimper, pussy clenching around him hard, “Oh, you like that? Like being used by me?”
“Y-yes.” You whimper, eyes fluttering shut, “It’s j-just so good. You’re s-so much older and stronger and— I just want to make you happy, Doctor.”
His free hand cracks down over your ass and he demands, “Look at me while I fuck you, Sweet Girl.” He cranes his neck upward placing a gentle kiss on your lips that did not match the way he was pounding into you or the filth he was spewing. Stephen watched your eyes roll back in your head before you snapped them forward, trying to keep your eyes on him as he’d asked. “There you go.” He murmurs, running one hand up your tummy to your chest, pinching at your nipples and smiling at the way it caused you to shake.
He ducked his head, kissing down and across your chest, latching his lips around the opposite nipple and sucking gently, slowing the thrust of his hips. His head catches just right on the spongey place inside you, finding that same spot his fingers had found earlier. You cry out, tears filling your eyes as he begins his short, staccato thrusts in and out, his own chest heaving.
“Doctor, p-please. I’m g-gonna—“ You choke on your words, legs starting to shake making it nearly impossible to hold up your weight.
“Me too, Sweetheart.” He mumbles, “Gonna cum right after you. Want you to kneel and let me paint your pretty tits.”
“Yes, yes sir.” You whimper, fingers pulling at the dark locks of hair in your hands, “Whatever you want.”
“That’s right.” He smiles into your neck, “And I want you to cum for me. Cum now.”
And with a few more thrusts, you do. You tremble on top of him, head thrown back, chest pushed out, and a cry of ecstasy leaving your lips. Stephen mutters praise, smiling as you look back down at him with glassy eyes, kiss flushed lips parted as you breathe raggedly. Stephen gives your ass a gentle squeeze and requests, “Get on your knees for me, Baby.”
You do, lifting yourself off his cock with a little whine, the emptiness hitting you and stealing your breath away. But you get on your knees between his legs and take his cock in hand. You rest your cheek against his knee, looking up at him, feeling more satisfied than ever before. You stroke his shaft in time with your unsteady breathing, watching his reactions as you do. Your other hand traces the subtle muscles that line his abdomen and chest, counting all those little freckles and moles. Perhaps they were his equivalent of your tattoos.
Strange gives a soft groan, his head falling back against the couch cushions as he compliments, “Perfect, Sweetheart. Just like that. Milk my cock.”
You smile, biting into your lower lip at the sight of his hips shifting. You run your nails lightly down his chest, across his abdomen, and lower to his balls. You massage them gently once more, willing him to cum for you. Stephen can feel you practically purring between his legs and when he looks down your eyes are trained on his throbbing, twitching cock in your little hand.
“I want you to cum.” You say, lifting your eyes to look at him through dark lashes, “Show me how well I’ve done for you, Doctor.”
Stephen sighs, hands gripping at the leather of the couch as he cums. Ropes of cum shoot out from his head, the first few catching on your chin as the rest coat your chest. You give a sweet little giggle, further slowing your hand, watching as the last bit of his release drips down over your knuckles. You lean forward and lick away his release and come up, suckling gently on his head, causing a gasp of shock to leave his lips.
You pull off with a pleased hum and whisper, “Tastes good, Doctor.” He gives a chuckle, hips bucking as you lap your tongue around his head one final time. You place a kiss against his inner thigh and confess, “I want to do this again.”
Stephen leans down, taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly before pulling back to say, “I think we can arrange that, Sweetheart.”
You smile as he kisses you again, deciding whatever the fuck had happened between Doctor Strange and your father in the past was in the past. And you had a plenty of orgasms in your future.
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