Doctor Strange - Baby Blues & Tattoos
A/N & WC - This is the enemies-to-lovers, co-workers, 'there was only one bed' fic. As soon as I thought of it, I knew it had to be a Dr Strange thing, and I loved writing it. Also, Ben's wink in the below GIF makes my knees go weak. 8.9k.
Warnings - Swearing, too much bickering, mentions of scars, mentions of a daddy kink, smut: oral (f rec), unprotected sex, brief orgasm denial, 'Doctor' kink, tattoo kink, hickey kink, belly bulge kink. 18+.
Summary - After a tiring mission, the last thing you want to do is have to crash at a hotel, especially with the cockiest man alive. Will things change with the fact there's only one bed on such a sleepless night? PART II HERE!
YOUR DAY HAS BEEN EXHAUSTING, there’s no denying it, and the only thing to possibly make it worse?
“C’mon, there’s a place not far away,” Stephen snaps at you, cajoling.
“Why can’t we just portal back?” you ask, uncaring of your tone, how brisk you are.
“Because we can’t. Shut up.”
And you do. He’s been grating on your nerves for this whole mission. It wasn’t like it was a bad one, you were away barely for twenty four hours, but this is Stephen. He gets exhausting after five Goddamn minutes.
Bags slung over your shoulders, you follow him down the street. This, sadly, is the type of place you don’t use your powers, save for impending doom. And you have to grant it to Stephen, he knows what he’s doing, and he’s admirable with it. The way he carries his title, so graciously aids those who need him, all with a stoic resolve. He’s a good sorcerer, that’s an irrefutable fact, and you wouldn’t be this far without him.
Still, doesn’t mean you have to like the pretentious bastard in any way.
Dusk is long gone, night time in full bloom, stars scattering around the sky like tiny sprinkles, smudges of light to guide you through the night, only a thin crescent moon available to you in the far distance. The enveloping navy of the night sky meets the dark hues of Stephen’s mundane clothes, sheltering him from view ever so slightly, walking a few paces in front of you.
It doesn’t take long for a relatively small building to come into view, small for a hotel, no bigger than the body of Bleecker Street, an orange glow bleeding out the entrance.
His shoulders rigid, his posture as straight as a rod, he stalks through the front doors and up to the clerk, slightly more human clothes back on in place of his mission attire.
“‘Scuse me, please can I book a room for tonight?” he says, each word articulated to its fullest.
“How many people, Sir?”
He casts a glance towards you, rolls those pretty blue eyes of his, and looks back. “Two.”
“What kind of room would you like, sir?”
“One with two beds, I don’t care about the cost.”
The boyish clerk nervously clears his throat and shuffles the papers on the desk before clicking around on his computer a fair amount. When he looks at you with that typically awkward glance hospitality workers give when they can’t give you what you want, you know exactly what’s coming.
“Sorry sir, we only have rooms with one bed available. I can get you one with a couch if that’s better?”
Stephen grinds his ridiculously defined jaw so aggressively, you can almost hear the bones crunching, grating together.
“You’re small, you take the couch,” he hisses, the comment directed at you before gulping down a breath, straightening his resolve, and meeting the clerk’s gaze. “That’ll do.” he says, his manner more brusque than usual.
I found this on tik tok as it seems many people and wow is this truly spectacular
