#Biochemistry Field

[wickedzeevyln]

Teachers

Passive receptacles—two words, one adjective, one noun, when put together make up the most mundane description to denigrate students who couldn’t keep their eyes from shutting and lulling themselves into a trance rather than endure her nightmare. She dared the empty bodies strapped in the arm chairs to raise a question and challenge her superior intellect, and I thought this was a perfect…

[m4lexxx67]

I should be reading my book on organic chemistry because I have the exam in like a month and I haven't learned shit yet bc my professor fucking sucks. But why does the book have to be so... idk, it's not even really boring cause I do find it kinda interesting how different groups in molecules affect the reaction but like... the reality and act of having to actively try and learn all this, just SUCKS. I don't want to memorize all these stupid mechanisms and then when you adjust the temperature something totally different happens and I need to know that. Not even that, I need to be able to tell what reaction happens based on the reactants and like... I wouldn't mind knowing that, but I also wouldn't mind if I didn't but I'll fail my exam if I don't. I just really don't want to put in the work because I don't like it enough because it's fucking organic chemistry and of course I have to do FOUR FUCKING SEMESTERS of this shit and I'm already hating the first WHYYYYYY 😭😭

[jellophoid]

allergies are acting up so I’m wide awake but I’m thinking about how Mia Winters got to connections again and I’m feeling so sick

[quill-of-thoth]

Okay but. Tiny swimming things on europa are more exciting, conceptually, than an alien civilization. Alien civilizations, and travel between solar systems, and people who we can talk to who aren’t us make great storytelling. But from a physics standpoint actually talking to aliens is an almost certain impossibility - for all the proposed solutions to faster than light space travel or instant communication, it’s likely that those problems are just too large in scale for it to be possible for us, or actually any civilization in the universe, ever, to solve them.  I know I talk about scale problems a lot but I think it’s one place where we don’t actually get enough scientific literacy education and that leads to people making policy and personal decisions based on presuming that science fiction is a “when” question instead of a “what if.” Say you could, I don’t know, reliably manipulate particles that exist also as fields rather than waves throughout the universe, potentially fixing the problems of communication degrading across the lightyears and also the speed of light meaning that we’re anywhere from four and a half years to the entire age of the universe away from getting any information from planets outside our solar system. You would still need someone on the other end to know how to build apparatuses that send information BACK. Then there’s faster than light travel, an even worse problem because it would probably require energy, and the scale problem gets worse, because you’re hoping to send STUFF rather than subatomic particles, and it’s very possible that there does not physically exist enough energy in possibly the universe to send, say, an intact car with living creatures in it, fast enough for those creatures to make it at enough under the speed of light to survive, even to our nearest neighbor Alpha Centauri. Even if we sent microbes and not people, even if it took us ten years to get to Alpha Centauri instead of the four and a half ish at lightspeed. Even if we sent a mars rover’s great great grand-bot to Alpha Centauri with some sort of decision-making process baked in and resigned ourselves to being spectators to a robot’s exploration half a decade after the fact.  Maybe physics gets weird in ways that we cannot predict that make this a less impossible problem. We’re not close to that. It probably seemed like we could be to people last century who thought “we’ve split an atom, the next frontier could be anything” but we knew that atoms consisted of separate parts since before 1900: it’s fundamental to how chemistry actually works, and we were poking around in predicting the results of chemistry during basically the entire 1800′s. We had an okay knowledge of what happened but not WHY.  Back to biochemistry, instead of physical chemistry: instead of the chemistry proliferation of the 1800′s, we have the proliferation of genetics in the 1900′s. We know (because genetics is a step up in complexity from chemistry: DNA is a complex, self assembling chemical process that exists only because with large enough chemicals there are very specific arrangements where it takes less energy to stay in shape than to dissolve into component parts - this is super simplified by the way -) and we’re still working on it. We’re going to be working on it for a lot longer than the idea of particles within an atom because there is so much more of it.  (There is also a LOT going the other direction, particles within particles, which is why we now know that the Higgs Boson exists instead of being so theoretical that it was nicknamed the god particle, but we have immense scale problems studying subatomic particles, and we don’t have the same problem for chemistry or biochemistry. Or microbiology. Time to re-enter europa.) The things Europa microbes could teach us in the fields of microbiology / biochemistry are way more important to our current state of knowledge as a species than if we could magically get cell signal to Alpha Centauri. We know how a lot of biochemical processes work, and why when they’re purely chemical. 

For example, we know that the lipid layer surrounding cells exists because, for chemical reasons, one end of a lipid hates touching water and the other doesn’t mind. So you put a bunch of lipid molecules in water and they self-assemble into little clumps, with their water-hating ends inward. Put enough in and stir and you get bubbles of lipid, where there’s water inside the bubble but the lipid is forming a layer, like a sheet of paper but impossibly thinner, water hating ends mashed together while the other ends look out into two separate seas. One sea has more salt than the other, but that’s okay: salt ions are so much smaller than lipids that they can just wiggle through the barrier. The lipids will turn a tiny tiny bit so the water hating ends don’t touch the ions, which they also don’t like much. The inner and outer seas make sure they have roughly the same amount of ions, and in doing so make sure they can have single atoms pass through. Water is only three atoms large. A lipid is about sixty atoms large. An amino acid is about twenty atoms large, and it mostly stays inside the inner sea if that’s where it starts out. The outer sea is more turbulent - complex proteins don’t form in it without breaking apart. The inner sea is calmer. Some proteins get so large that when they fold on themselves to reach the most compact structures they start having physical behaviors, like the motion stored in a tightly wound spring. Some proteins move in ways that interact with other proteins, without changing anything about their chemical composition. Somewhere in all this we get systems of proteins, and this is where we reach the unknown WHY stage, that get complex enough that they start assembling other chemicals, which in turn tell other proteins how to make more proteins. And sugars. And - well a hell of a lot of chemicals, it turns out. If you have some idea of how many grains of rice is a billion, you still don’t understand how many cells are in a moderately sized mammal. The scale difference between a million and a billion is not QUITE the same as the scale difference between a billion and a trillion but we’re getting close. The scale difference between an atom and a virus is similar to the scale difference between humans and the sun, in that math doesn’t quite break down when we think about it, but our ability to do math without technical aids does.  Europan life, no matter how unicellular, could teach us a lot about WHY life works this way. If they have the same proteins (or enough of the same) we can be reasonably sure that a lot of the chemical building blocks of life are simply the most durable organizations of specific chemicals in tiny envelopes of water. If they don’t, we’ll know that we need to broaden our search. If Europan life was microbes and viruses we would eventually know enough about them to track their evolution. If it was weird enough - say it lacked DNA and RNA - we would be able to discover a completely different principal of chemical self-organization leading to life. Theorizing a genetic structure that isn’t DNA/RNA in enough detail to be worth studying is a ludicrous amount of work: we are currently gamely trying to find different possible folds for individual proteins, which are usually smaller, by a combination of sheer computing power and luck.  A decade ago when I was actually taking microbio, it was infinitely faster and cheaper in terms of energy to have humans propose protein arrangements and have computers check them: shout out to https://fold.it/, which you can still play for the sake of science. The rise of machine learning AI hasn’t made a dent here: it likely won’t. The scale difference between colored pixels or individual word arrangements and the folds of a protein is probably also like the difference between a human and the sun. Finding life on Europa, whether it’s different than our microbes or not, could be the kind of connection in the field of molecular biology that discovering the individual components of the core of an atom one after another in the early 1800′s was: the Why that births a dozen new fields.  TLDR: a microbe not of this world is a larger amount of information than being able to talk directly to an alien and infinitely less impossible. 

do you believe in aliens

yeah but in the very boring "there's probably some tiny things swimming around on europa" way, not in the flying saucers way

[pathologicalreid]

an ode to a conversation stuck in your throat | s.r.

in which Spencer tries to talk you out of taking a job across the country

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: miscommunication (sigh), very cheesy, brief mention of wine, defining the relationship, insecure spencer, easily confused reader, chemist!reader word count: 1.04k a/n: if i could go a week without writing a dwg song fic that would be crazy. also surprise it's chemist!reader again.

"Thanks for stopping so I could change,” you say to Spencer, leading the way into your apartment and locking the door behind you. “I’m sure lab dress code and David Rossi dress code are miles apart,” you continue, hanging your backpack on the wall.

Spencer hums in response, “You’d look great in anything you wear.”

Your face warms at the compliment, “You’re sweet. You can just wait out here, I shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes,” you gesture to the living room, smiling at him before heading off to your room.

Nervously, you pull off your lab-safe attire and discard all of it into the laundry hamper before putting on the dress you’d chosen for dinner tonight. It’s not overly fancy, but you hope his team will like it. You hope his team will like you.

Looking at yourself in your dresser mirror, you reconsider your choice of shoes, switching from a pair of kitten heels to flats before walking out the door, “Hey, Spence, is Rossi’s patio heated, or should I bring a sweater for when the sun goes down?” You stop in your tracks when you find Spencer, still in the entryway, looking at the color-coded whiteboard calendar you keep by your front door, “What’s up?”

His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his slacks, and he looks upset. What’s worse is you think he might be upset with you. “What’s this dinner you have planned next Friday?”

You feel like a child who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t be, draping the proposed sweater over the back of a kitchen stool and crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “It’s a work dinner,” you answer nervously.

“With?” Spencer asks, but he’s not pushy about it, there’s something desperate in his tone.

Pursing your lips, you look at the purple writing on the calendar, “The chair of Biochemistry and Molecular Genetics at Northwestern, and a representative from the college's dean. They’re offering me a job with a private lab and my own team of researchers… so they’re taking me out to dinner.”

Spencer’s face fell, “They’re offering you a job in Chicago?”

“Well, that’s where Northwestern is. Evanston, if you want to get technical about it,” you respond, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He looks at you dumbfoundedly, “I don’t want to get technical about it. When were you going to tell me that you’re taking a job in Chicago?” It almost seems like he’s afraid.

You raise your eyebrows in curiosity, you’ve been seeing each other for a month, and you’ve never known Spencer to jump to conclusions. “I’m not,” you tell him, keeping your tone void of any accusation, “They’re just taking me to dinner.”

Spencer sighs, “But they’re offering you a job. In a different state. In a different timezone.”

Admittedly, he was beginning to sound a bit ridiculous to you, “Don’t you field offers from colleges all the time? They want you to teach or tell you to become Spencer Reid, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD, or whatever?” 

His eyes follow you as you move to sit down at the kitchen counter, “It never gets as far as dinner.”

“I’m not taking the job,” you tell him simply, shrugging your shoulders demurely.

Spencer falters at that, knitting his brows together as he tries to piece together the answers you’re willingly giving him, “If you’re not taking the job then why are you going to dinner with them?”

Hiding a small smile, you give him the truth, “They pick up the tab. I go to a lot of these and I get good food out of the deal. These people love to schmooze but I’ve never been offered anything that I would be inclined to accept.” This specific job seemed perfect on the surface, but they weren’t willing to let you choose what to research. That was non-negotiable for you.

“I could schmooze you,” he insists, “You don’t need other people to schmooze you.”

You giggle at him, waving him over to you so you can look him in the eyes when you tell him, “I go for free food and good wine. No other reason.” Your smile was gentle, but inside your heart was pounding. He was scared I was going to leave, you think to yourself.

He sighs, “Will you… will you tell me in the future when you get these dinner offers?” His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll think he’s asking too much of you.

Nodding, you reach out and take one of his hands in yours, “I can, but I didn’t think were at the ‘I’m being courted by another workplace, and I wanted to let you know’ stage yet. That’s kind of a girlfriend thing,” you explain.  

Spencer frowns, “Aren’t you?”

Tilting your head to the side, you look at him curiously, “Aren’t I what?”

“My girlfriend,” he clarifies.

Your eyes go wide, “Oh! I didn’t think so, I thought you had to ask yet.” Although you’re far from a relationship expert, you’d had to ask your PhD advisee what to wear before your first date with Spencer.

The panicked look on his face returns, “I’ve been telling people you’re my girlfriend. Should I not have been doing that?”

Shaking your head, you beam up at him, “I don’t mind. I just thought you had to ask about that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, “I’ve never really done this before.”

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a moment before you decide to speak up again, “So, just so we’re on the same page. I’m not moving to Chicago.”

Spencer frowns again, and you have to hold yourself back from using your thumb to smooth out the crease on his forehead, “Will you?”

Confused, you lean your head back, “Move to Chicago?”

“Be my girlfriend,” he amends quickly.

You nod, “I would love to.”  

“And just so we’re on the same page,” he ducks his head down, so close to a kiss that it makes you feel dizzy, “I like to think I’m the only one who can really court you.”

Laughing, you lean forward and peck his lips, “I would be insulted if you didn’t think that.”

[tinydefector]

Rut cycle- Prowl

Prowl x human

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: Smut, size difference, thigh fucking.

Masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

Prowl masterlist

____________________

 Prowls eyes linger on them as he pulls them away from the Decepticons lingering gaze. His doorwings twitch in agitation as he extracts them from yet another cluster of hormonally compromised Mechs. 

His optics flare in the red zone as they squirm in his unforgiving grip, He moves quickly with them until the door to one of the rooms shuts. A deep snarl leaves his frame as blue optics narrow in on their body. They gasp as Prowl pins them in place. Eyes flicking up to his optics as they both stare at each other, neither willing to talk at that moment.  

Prowl's Field radiates pulsing waves of disapproval and barely-restrained need as his optics bore down into their eyes. "Foolish little organic," he growls, "Did you truly believe yourself exempt from the rules, inserting yourself into that den of hormonal deviants? We Autobots prize control, but even the strictest protocols fracture under chemical bombardment. One wrong move and you risk a lot more than you can withstand!" 

 Their mouth hangs open in a small shocked face before Prowl is hit with the wafting scent. The sweet scent almost like crystal Energex with Mercury hits his sensors and it makes him growl again. "I'm sorry I didn't know, I just thought you guys would all appreciate some energon while dealing with negotiations," they stutter, body tense as he holds them against the wall.

A guttural snarl rumbles Prowl's chassis at the sensory overloads assailing systems.  The intoxicating cocktail of hormones and pheromones soaked through hsi plating to the point he knows that if he were to leave the room he would still be able to smell them on his plating. 

coolant floods his interface array, lubricating. His spike pressurises against the locked panel, sending him insane with how his frame responds to them. He wanted so desperately to frag them into oblivion and back for the teasing and suffering it was causing.

"Foolish...Slagging Human," he huffs beside their ear, it sends a shutter up their spine from how close Prowl was, they are nearly caged in against the wall as he speaks slowly to them. A growled curse spews Prowl's vocoder as he pulls back before he could let his intake even taste their skin. 

" Are you truly so naive?" he rumbles, optics boring into them. His grip is almost bruising to the fragile tissue of their body. "Did you fail to notice every Decepticon in the room following your biochemistry trail like glitch hounds?, given the chance they would have scooped you up, used and discarded you without a thought."

Prowl's fans roar at the images assaulting processing units. The thought of them spread atop of his spike, taking as much as they physically can, whimpered moans of his name leaving them as transfluid weep from their used holes. His frame strains at the thought, plating and his wings fluttering at the thought. His optics focus back on their wide eyes. And then it occurred to him, You were playing the fool. “you enjoy Flaunting around base like its a show and shine don't you” he huffs

Vents expel hot gusts across their face as his field bleeds need. They shiver, eyes watching his optics. "I wasn't flaunting myself, I was just making sure you all have energon,  I know how stressed you all get when Decepticons are involved with anything. didn't know you were in a negotiation with them at the time" they state softly only to gasp as Prowl pulls them closer. A strangled keen escapes Prowl's vocalizer at their confession. 

 Optics flaring near-white, Prowl presses them to the inferno of his spike housing, letting them feel the heat that radiates off the plating. One word, and he would spill transfluid in torrents to claim them utterly as his, to unlatch his Interface panel and coat them is his fluid for all to know. 

"That sounds like a lie to me Bits," he rasps. His thumb meets their bottom lip, pressing against the soft flesh before he slowly presses harder. “Mouth, open, now” he orders, tone deep and husky. A low rumbled moan leaves him when they open their mouth. He presses his thumb down against their tongue. “Suck” the roiling pheromones melding their scents into a single intoxicating melody has him groaning in need as he slowly grinds his interface panel between their thighs, each grind has him groaning and hissing out vented air, his fans kicking up a storm. 

Prowl's optics flicker dangerously as panels withdraw, baring his weeping spike.Their eyes widen as they look up at him dumb found as it rests against their stomach. Prowl stiffens a keen, his own fever-glazed optics stare down at them as if they are meat. “My little Spike sleeve aren't you, so willing to have my transfluid” he coos as the bright Pink liquid slowly soaks into their clothing. His engine revs loudly as he grinds against them enjoying the way they wiggle and squirm. 

A smile graces his faceplate, watching as he turns them into the divine sight of sin and pleasure. He lets out a static laced moan as his thumb leaves their mouth letting them take in a shaky breath, his digit dig into their clothing, nearly spreading each layer of fabric as he thrust against their body. “Look at you, so desperate,” he rumbles in delight. He traces a pattern over their stomach. “this is how far my spike would reach in you, I could destroy that pretty little body of yours. You'd like that wouldn't you” he chuckles. 

Moans and whimpers leave their lips,  “Prowl” they cry out, wrapping their legs around his spike tightly as he begins to rut against their body. “Mmm, so good for me” he rumbles. Each grind of his spike has him closer and closer to overload as transfluid runs down their stomach and legs. 

Prowl lets out a loud snarl as his system flashes warning signs, more and more transfluid gushes from him as he lets out a static whine. His overload hits hard as he coats them, more and more shimmering pink fluid runs off their frame. Prowls fans whirring loudly as heated vents brush their body. He runs a digit through his finish before bringing it to their lips. “Suck” He orders with another smile. 

 eagerly take his digits into their mouth, a sound of approval leaves the mech as watches in delight. “perfect little slagger” he hums before leaning down to kiss them, their hands grab onto his faceplate as they kiss him back with vigour. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, only to get a nod in response. 

“your to get dressed and meet me back at my Hub, if you aren't spread out on my berth when I get there after these reports I'll be taking you wherever I find you, do you understand?” he raises an optic brow as his blue optics zone in on them.

 “Yes Sir” 

“run along then and stay out of trouble” 

____________________

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[morphids]

hi!! i just recently found your blog and i love all your hange work 🥲❤️ i was wondering if you could make a fic about detective!hange x vampire!reader ! i thought it could be like season 4 hange where they kinda lost their spark due to the stress of being commander but in this different AU and they gain it back after meeting Y/N. like there’s been many deaths being deaths being reported and hange was spending night after night trying to figure out who this ‘serial killer’ is, only to find out that it’s a vampire! this peaks hange’s interest how they build a relationship is up to you coz i’m not sure but ngl i feel like hange would offer Y/N to suck some blood from their neck for… research purposes and then lowkey be into it and then go into some smut maybe hehe

taste of copper, hange zoë

hey so…? this request eats i’m so excited!! thank u for requesting this <3 hope it’s to ur liking!!

summary: nb detective!hange zoe x vampire!reader, afab bodies!

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni!!! explicit sexual content, poc friendly!! mentions of death/dead bodies, murder, blood (it is a vamp fic), um kinky stuff icl, blood kink, tbh hange is p canon i feel like they’d acc be into vampires fr, hange is kidnapped and tied up (sry that ep gave me brain damage) but they’re into it, vamp sex, SUB!HANGE RETURNS, age gap—r is like at least 90 lmao, hange is around late-30s (hot), restraints, fingering, munching, slight degradation, more blood!!

psa— pls don’t fuck cops irl guys, just don’t

wc: …14k … once again i have nothing to say for myself lmao

In the peak of winter, the cold had set over the local town, chilling everything within it. Plants had frosted over, grass was frozen solid and the sun seldom shone.

Hange was Chief Detective, an expert within their field. Had accomplished several degrees in a multitude of disciplines; biochemistry, criminology and law. A jack of all trades, master of all, so to speak. An intellectual prodigy.

The last few years had been slow, crime rates had lowered exceptionally. Logically, Hange knew this was a good thing, it meant that they had been doing their job incredibly successfully. But... it also means that they've been very bored, disillusioned—borderline out of a job. Their days started to merge together, the monotony of mundane tasks repeating themselves everyday left no space for the mind to expand and grow. Hange was bored, the spark they had for their field diminishing with each passing day.

It's hard to be a detective in a low crime zone. The force has been dealing with a lot of ennui lately. Again—it's not a bad thing, in reality. It's just that Hange hates being stuck with nothing to do, and resents being idle, simply forced to twiddle their thumbs.

That is, until a field of bodies starts showing up. Popped up scattered in different parts of the woods. Corpses cold, grey and drained of all of their blood. Completely exsanguinated.

"Heh—reminds me of the ol' chupacabra legends," said one of the interns, rather insensitively, before being hushed by his superiors. Reminded and reprimanded to take the job seriously.

It is curious, though. Corpses left with no visible injuries, except from two puncture wounds in varying parts of the body. No pattern to the location of drainage points, the only consistency being the total drainage.

It had been going on for a few weeks, with one body found hidden in the forest each week. Hange feels a little guilty at how much they begin to relish the thrill of an active investigation again.

Hell, even their coworkers notice. In the mornings, whilst everyone is settling into their desks, Hange hears: "Detective, you're looking well!" and "Glad to see you're feeling like yourself again, Hange!"

It's almost embarrassing, that everyone on the squad can see how much they're thriving with the new caseload. An almost unseemly sentiment within law enforcement. They just can't help it, their brain is working, synapses finally flying to work after being useless for so long as they try to get to the bottom of the new case. Even though there was minimal evidence to work with.

Meanwhile, you had moved into town a few months back. You'd wanted to blend in with human society first, get your bearings within a new location before bodies began dropping as soon as a new person moved in the area.

Being a vampire, it was easy enough to gather fake documents proving your legitimacy—false passports, IDs and new bank accounts in a rotation every couple of years. It was easy enough to compel high rank officials into signing, stamping and creating legal documents for you.

When you first moved, you were disappointed that there were no others of your species living there. Odd considering most towns have at least two residential vampires. Yet the lack of decay and death in the air tells you that you are the only one to reside there. A shame, really, you'd hoped for there to be at least one—other vampires are more fun to fraternize with, easier to band community with than humans.

So you wait, bide your time, feeding on squirrels and wild wolves to get you through for a few months until your body can't survive on it any longer. Animal blood keeps you going, sure, but it lacks the nutrition you need from humans—lacks the taste, too, frankly. Tastes like unseasoned meat that was left to boil in dull water.

You can feel your body growing frail, the muscles in your limbs chewing on themselves. The strength in your body was growing more feeble by the minute, your speed lessening. Icy skin started to feel parched and your stomach constantly feels empty. It's not good enough, you need real food.

So, you begin observing the town. Watch the residents from afar and pick out victims that would be a good source of energy and life. The limitations are already high enough, illness and disease in humans weakens their blood, isn't nutritious and takes like burnt, soiled metal on your tongue. You need healthy, hearty blood.

Preferably, they'd have little to no living family members, fewer people to miss them. Maybe they're lonely and live on their own, maybe they're a regular menace in the town—people who simply aren't going to be missed as much. Anything to prolong the bodies being reported missing and found.

So you gather your intel, and people-watch until you find that perfect person to keep your body going until the next week. Then you'd bring them to the woods, cast your enticing 'spells', enchanting voice and charming eye contact to lure them in. You weren't above using seduction as a feeding tactic. Plus, it helps that vampires have a certain allure that humans find desirable.

The sweet whispers of your voice and the elfin connection of your eyes lure them into a sense of security. The calm that encompasses them grants you time for the spell to kick in until they become a shell of their body. Following your commands, wishing to do anything to please you—pliable. It was just so easy.

Subsequently, it isn't difficult to take them. Almost unbelievable how eagerly they follow you in the darkest depths of the forest, hidden away from street lamps and passing car headlights. Not even the moonlight can penetrate through the thickness of the tree branches, nor a sliver of illumination bounce on the ground through gaps in the leaves.

It's your most perfect spot, you were quite proud of it.

There, you suck them dry. Sink your sharpened incisors into them, calming them down as you drink every last drop they have to offer. Then, once their soul has left their body, once the light has left their eyes, you plant them in different spots. A body hidden under a bed of dead, fallen leaves every week. You had the sequence down to a perfection. You'd try to be as humane as possible, but ultimately humans are just a source of food. The circle of life and all.

You've been doing this for over seventy years. A list of principles and rules had been the mode of operating you followed over the years to keep yourself safe and secure. You don't befriend humans, don't interact with them unless you have to, and you definitely don't fall in love with them. It was a lesson you had learned the hard way a few decades past. Betrayal freezing your heart and halting any attempts of connection.

Leaving behind physical evidence is no concern, the dead circulation from your heart has left you with a lack of fingerprints, a lack of dead, shedding skin cells —things human killers have to worry about, you didn't. Your body is almost in a state of perpetual permafrost, the coldness in your veins preserves your skin. It'd retained its look from the point at which you were turned. The hair on your scalp doesn't grow anymore, and neither do your nails. Stagnancy meant that you took pride in maintaining the length and lusciousness you'd carried when you were still a human, yourself. It helps you feed, after all.

It doesn't mean you didn't have to be careful about other things, though. You had to ensure you didn't make stupid mistakes, even without any physical biological evidence. You may be able to outrun humans, and it's easy enough to kill someone who'd dare to catch you, at a time—but no one could fight against an armed horde ambush if they were overpowered. Stranger things have happened than a vampire getting imprisoned. So you were careful. You didn't want the headache, too high a risk of any potential loose ends ruining your flow of life.

You've done this shit for about seventy years, so how the fuck could you have fucked up, now?

—

Hange is a damned, good detective. Their concentration is aided by the hypnosis of their own hyperfocus, the honed tunnel vision when they're on a case. Countless sleepless nights and a peculiar way of thinking. Hange truly is the very best of the very best, having solved every single case they'd ever been assigned to.

Working on cases back in their more youthful days used to breathe life into them, back when technology wasn't such a huge aspect of catching a criminal. When serial killers weren't as careful about being caught by someone's domestic CCTV. Back when autopsies weren't helped by technological, medical advancements, there had been a lot more murders then. A crazy amount of crime, here, there, and just about everywhere. Nowadays, cases are minimal, the ones that occurred were easily an open-shut case, solved almost instantly.

Which is why their giddiness was now returning to them. At first glance, no one on the force knows how to go about solving this, people working under Hange have no idea where to even begin looking. No viable evidence means there's no plausible cause to question suspects which they don't even have.

The furthest Hange got was extracting lingering traces of an unidentified chemical from the puncture points of every victim— one that Hange concluded was used to knock out and sedate the victims.

The chemical compounds were closely similar to that of the synthetic drug, Ketamine, it just wasn't related enough to be properly classified under that. Plus, the traces found on the punctures were so small, and naturally altered. It was more distinctly relative to that of bat venom, but with a distinctive non-animal chemical formation—it's unlike anything they have ever seen before.

At least, though, it cemented that this was a series of planned serial murders, not a case of multiple, unfortunate animal attacks. Someone must've developed a new drug and have been experimenting it on the locals, Hange hoped there was lead here. Ultimately, though, nothing came of it, no other traces of this unidentified substance had been found.

One night, Hange is working late at the lab, their squad had been sent home to rest for the night. Hange stayed behind, as they usually did, to keep investigating. Looking over the very same evidence they had since the beginning and getting no more results.

It's itching at Hange, this has to be the work of one person, an individual who is careful about covering their tracks, someone who is almost untraceable. Someone smart, they thought, the DNA from the killer in the punctures is simply just.. not there, like it'd vanished, and all that remains is the fleeting chemical traces.

Hange gets a hunch, that the bodies had no more evidence to discover but perhaps the clothes the victims were wearing might? All of that stuff had been sealed away in the evidence locker but no one had looked it over, too busy focusing on the bodies themselves.

On a newfound mission, Hange grabs all of the locked-up clothing from the lockers, deciding to investigate it with the hopes that there was something potentially missed during the first scans.

Lo and behold, after careful examination, there it was. So minute, it was almost missed, almost. Smushed along the cotton sleeve of the most recent victim's jacket, was plant residue. Hange swallowed their growing animation, a less than respectable way to behave.

It isn't much, but they'd take any potential lead they could get.

Deciding to extract the residue, Hange realised they were not going home to rest anytime soon—this was far more important. With the ticking of the wall clock behind them, it prompted Hange to place some of the extracts between two sterile plates of thin glass. Ready for examination under the microscope. With it being so early in the a.m, the toxicology lab had long closed, forcing Hange to look into it themself—which is fine, they tended to work faster when they're left to their own devices.

After a few rather extensive screens and tests, Hange managed to come to the conclusion that this particular plant is toxic, its oils and compounds are consistent with that of black spider lilies. A plant that is not geographically native to this area, and extremely odd that traces of it would even be found around here.

But, looking back... Hange swears that they've seen black spider lilies recently, definitely somewhere close and local, particularly on the windowsill of one specific house. A house that had been deemed uninhabitable a few years ago, had something to do with asbestos trapped within the ceiling and roof. It'd been reported unusable and was left to rot.

It should've raised some flags then, when once Hange was driving on their commute to work and suddenly that house was now back in use. Someone residing there had decorated the outside and the lights were now on. The old, unsanctioned house looked pretty again, refurbished. Hange had just assumed someone bought the place and its problems had been fixed, thought nothing more of it. But now? Things were starting to look good for the investigation.

Absolutely nowhere else had Hange seen this type of flower, certainly nowhere in this town. It's definitely a lead, they thought, something stirring in their gut, intuitive that this was something important.

At the developments, Hange began laughing to themself, almost manically. The thrill of the chase rushed through their veins.

I've got you.

By the time they had finished the tests and tidied the lab, it was already around three in the morning. Perhaps, they should've waited until the first crack of morning, but being the chief detective and having no other reasonable person in the office to warn them against it, Hange got impulsive. They wanted to at least check out the house and its residents tonight.

Maybe they should've even left a note, of what they found and who the new prime suspect is, in the case of anything going awry. Did they? Of course not! Caution was thrown to the wind, logical reasoning overpassed by their giddy excitement with each passing second.

Eagerness clearly too strong a force to fight, as Hange raced to put on their long trench coat, unlock their parked car and drove to the location.

There the flowers were, clear as day, or night, really. Perfectly cultivated and well-maintained black spider lilies, standing tall and sturdy in their vases. Beautiful plants, honestly, but oh, so incriminating. Hange couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from their lips.

Oh, I've so got you.

Perhaps a little silly of them, caught up in their own little wave, Hange ended up jumping the gun. Unlocking the car door to stand between where it connected to the body of the vehicle. An arm perched over the roof of the car as they watched. They did try to be discreet, and hadn't shut the car door with the hopes that the residence wouldn't be disturbed and catch on that they were being watched by a mere door slam.

However, you had heard the purr of a car engine long before it even reached your street, it was a loud bang within your well-attuned sonic ears against the otherwise silent serenity of the night. You had heard the click of the car door opening, followed by a light, low chuckle.

You knew you were being watched before they even began watching you.

Silently, you made your way out your back door, remaining unseen the whole time. Your movements were so quick, that no human eye was able to possibly detect even a mere shadow with the inhuman swiftness of which you moved, placing yourself behind your observer.

Biting back a laugh from behind them, you looked over their body language. This person is clearly a cop, their loud attire told you that enough, a white dress shirt finished with a tie and brown slacks underneath a trench coat. There was a subtle bump underneath their coat indicating the gun holster that was snugly hidden against their torso. A smarter cop than most, if they found you, that's for sure. But not smart enough to think to stay within the safe confines of the car, or to bring a partner along with them.

Honestly, you had expected a cop to have better survival instincts. They hadn't even noticed your looming presence behind them, predatory and proud as you smirked to yourself. Taking the opportunity to observe them whilst they thought they were one step ahead, sneakily observing you, instead.

But, fuck, if their scent wasn't divine, the exhilaration touring through their veins filled your nose. Their ample zeal emanates from their body like a radiative aura. The pumping major vein in their neck pounded just decadently against their skin; its throbbing was so minute only your enhanced eyes could sense it. The keen adrenaline in their blood makes it all the more irresistible.

Blood laced with fear is delicious, but blood laced with excitement? God, it's simply heavenly, nectarous. This is strong, healthy blood, the aroma of warm, honeyed copper pumping down their nerves was dizzying, fuck.

"What exactly are you doing?" your voice broke through the silence like honey, soft against the harsh thumps of heartbeat in Hange's ears. The detective almost jumped out of their skin, the excitement in their blood swished with the newfound fear of being caught. They turned to face you slowly, eyes wide and lips agape, confused by how someone managed to creep up behind them without Hange even noticing. Just how was that possible? They were trained for shit like this.

"I..uh... I'm patrolling the area, ma'am." "Oh yeah? You just look like someone creeping through windows from here."

Truthfully, you liked to play with your food.

The detective flushed, only realising how this could look to a passing pedestrian, but what could they possibly say? Sorry, I'm pursuing an active investigation into a potential neighbour of yours? This begged the question, who even are you and why are you out on the streets at this hour? Hange's head began whirling, a peculiar headache began to ache in their skull. The dull pain was followed by a dizzying, thick sensation in their body, making them flustered.

"Oh, um..." Hange cleared their throat, trying to ignore the growing sensation, "Police business, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't disclose that information."

Oh?

"Well, perhaps you should show me your badge? Seeing as you just look like someone's stalker to me."

Hange swallowed, they'd never seen you before, not in town or any grocery store, nothing. They would've remembered someone who carried themselves the way you did, almost regal in nature, refined and... enticing? Hange's senses were growing lulled, more compliant. Usually, they'd have argued more, hesitant to whip their badge out. Normally, they would be more alert and able to notice the explicit trap. Right now, though, their hand easily slipped into the coat's inside pocket, limbs moving on their own accord as their badge was brought out into the cold air of the night.

Pleased, you smiled to yourself, watching the glaze over their eyes. It was one of your favourite parts in these moments. Watching as their body becomes not their own momentarily until you deem it necessary and let them return to their own senses. You just loved how pathetically pliant they all get, how easily influenced their little minds are until you say so. So easy to compel them to your every command.

The detective slipped the badge into your hand, you didn't even bother to look at it whilst you whispered, "And your gun, too, love."

The words hung like a poison, Hange wasn't in their right mind to decline you, hand slipping into their black holster as they pulled out the sleek, metal weapon. When it was safely in your hand, you smiled sweetly—it's not like the gun could kill you, but gunshots make one hell of a noise. It's smarter to avoid violent confrontation as much as you can, you don't want any more cops sniffing around.

"That's it."

Just like that, within a second Hange was back in their head, their half-lidded eyes reverting back to their regular alertness.

"I—uh," and there was the confusion, it's normal that once the 'spell'is lifted, humans feel a little disoriented, dazed and confused.

"It's alright, dear, just come with me."

—

Hange doesn't remember any of it; the last they recall is parking up and evaluating the suspect house from their car. Their heart began anxiously thumping as they awoke in a dimly lit, lavish bedroom, adorned with lush green velvet fabrics on the curtains. Rich, deep hues of purple coating the walls and lavish textiles on the textured rugs.

The detective's wrists were trapped behind their back, bound tightly with a silky red scarf. It felt plush and tender against their skin, a sharp contrast to the violent, threatening nature of their binds. Hange grunted, and tried to shout behind the gag over their mouth. Jaw slackened as another silk scarf tied around their mouth pressed their tongue to silence, ensuring that any words and shouts would be futile.

Hange thrashed against their binds, panic seeping through their chest whilst dread overtook their features. The scarf began to dig into their wrists, tight and snug against futile movements. Circulation beneath their wrists started to cease. Their chest was heaving, breaths were heavy, and their eyes glanced around the room, checking the surroundings.

Just what the hell happened?

Grunting against the gag, Hange's eyebrows furrowed. Their thrashes increased once they noticed you sat in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, arms crossed over your stomach with an amused expression plastered on your face.

"I'll remove the gags if you promise to keep quiet."

Hange shuddered in their restraints, what kind of situation did they get themself into? More grunts followed, muffled by the silk stuffed over their tongue as you tutted, shaking your head with minor disappointment.

"Looks like it's staying on."

You stood, powerful and confident in your ethereal elegance as you slowly strut over to their keeled body. Pathetically bound to an exposed metal pipe by an extra length of fabric as it crossed over the silk. With each step getting closer, Hange's blood flowed more furiously, stiffened gaze stuck on you.

The clothes covering your body were dark, there was a black, corseted bell-sleeved top that hung off your shoulders exposing the shadows of your collarbone. A matching, long skirt flowed with your movements. A short golden necklace choked over your neck, with a longer pendant chain trailing down to the valley of your breasts. The warmth of the soft gold emphasised the glow in your skin, radiant and sleek. The pupils in your eyes were dark and coaxing, an almost unhinged tilt in the corner of your lips. Exquisite, in a spine-chilling way.

"You got so close, pity you were so stupid about it."

Hange shook their head at you, wide-eyed and pleading as you leaned over them. Your fingers teased at the hem of fabric covering their mouth, taunting a chance that you'd remove it. The detective stilled, eyes boring into your own defiantly as they swallowed down your words. The confession was pretty much meaningless if they were just about to die in a few minutes. Utterly pointless if it was taken to the grave with them.

"I'd love to know what led you here," you hummed, fingers digging underneath the silk, "How you managed to narrow it down."

At Hange's lack of movement, the threat of noise was stuck in their throat.

"You gonna be quiet for me, love?"

Hange's eyes glimmered with apprehension, it was seeping from their veins, the blood mixing with something else as it pulled towards your nose delightfully. The detective sighed, nodding with unbroken eye contact. Looks like they were braver than most, too. You smiled, tinted dark lips seemed nearly courteous and demure juxtaposing the whole situation, it was almost sweet.

"Perfect."

Fingers trailed between the silk, grazing Hange's warm cheeks so you could drag it down. It had been dampened by their saliva, stuck in their mouth for the length of time it was. You let it hang around their chin, a chilling reminder that you could prop it back up at any given moment.

"So?" You implored.

Hange clamoured, was it smart to attempt a threat or should they just give you what you want? What would keep them alive longer, before their colleagues found them dead in the woods, inexplicably drained of all their blood?

After a beat, Hange responded, "I, uh, I found residue of your plants... you're the only one that has those around here." Your eyebrows rose, astounded that you'd even left a trace, and a foolish one to boot. Never in your seventy years had you made such a laughable mistake. You were losing your finesse. Flower residue? That's a new one. Though, it's not like it matters much, you suppose, in the grand scheme of things. The longest possible life sentence had already been thrust upon you over seventy years ago. At the end of the twentieth year of your human life.

"I see, then I'll just have to be more careful next time," 

The apparent arrogance in your tone irritated Hange, the ludicrous confidence that you simply wouldn't get caught was stupefying and they couldn't prevent themself from interrupting. "There won't be a next time, I'm gonna arrest you and you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your sick life."

Then you merely laughed, a laugh so eerie and haunting, so inappropriate in its context. Their threat seemingly rolled off your back. "Oh, sweetheart, that's utterly brave of you." you sighed, beaming down at the detective, the words taunting, "How could you possibly arrest me when you're stuck right here?"

Hange's chest sunk, heart pacing around in its ribcage at the brutal reality of your words, they were powerless right now, completely at your mercy. Heck, no one in their squad even knew Hange was here.

"I..." "Has it sunk in yet? The fact that you're going to die here and no one will know?

"Shame, too," you hummed, "You're a very good-looking one, Hange, what a waste."

A gulp was swallowed down, unnerved by your haunting words. You knew their name and it slipped from your tongue so easily, like a hunter naming their trophy catch before shooting the animal between its eyes.

"You stole my badge?" Hange muttered, their eyes sinking. The question hung in the air, answered only by a low chuckle and nothing else. The question of the matter was still itching at Hange, though, the nature of the killings still unknown. If they were going to die, anyway, they at least wanted to know the truth of how those people died.

"...How do you do it?" The expression on your face slacked, looking down at them. They were peering up at you with a determined stare, the eager glint in their brown eyes wasn't estranged from their features. Eyes questioning and dead-set on knowing. Their inquisitive spirit was transparent to you, made painfully prominent. "If I tell you that, then I'd really have to kill you,"

"Aren't you, already, anyway?" Your composure faltered a little, frankly, this was a little messy, not aligning with how you normally liked to carry things through. Didn't follow your usual mode of operating, too many loose ends, I mean, they were in your house. You kill them and who's to say their squad doesn't follow the same leads and end up right here, too? Life imprisonment is a little murky when you're immortal. With no access to blood you'd soon perish, they'd find you as a pile of ashes on the ground of a cold cell.

Sure, you could escape and run away, start a new life and begin again, but you'd just gotten comfortable here. It's just another headache to start anew somewhere else, you liked this little house. A single build with a nice lawn, you'd refurbished it and fixed it up, even planted flowers for god's sake!

"It's not an ideal situation, I must admit."

Hange picked up on your hesitance, years on the field made it easy to pick out subtle changes in one's body language and tones. They looked at you, perplexed, their wide doe eyes gaping, you found it endearing, almost charming. The sweetness of their pumping blood was throwing you off, disarraying your head. How the tables turn, I guess.

"You really want to know?" Hange stilled, morbid curiosity eating at them, but they nodded firmly. There returned that determination, again, tugging at you. "..I eat until they drop."

The words from your lips came out with a solemn chuckle attached to an almost weary sigh. You never asked for this. Amidst Hange's horror, they could catch an almost pitiful sparkle in your eyes, their lips split open as they breathed out, "You...what?" There was a slump of their shoulders, finally breaking their gaze away from you and to the floor, "What the fuck does that mean?"

You sank back into your armchair, a red cushioned velvet, "I feed on them," you soughed, "Until there's nothing left." Hange was stirring, you couldn't possibly be saying what they think you were saying. Suddenly, the chupacabra joke from their colleague was no longer a joke. He had hit the nail right on the head. Their heart rate hiked up, you could feel it throbbing from within their veins, booming against your own ears.

"I... don't understand, that sounds like..." Hange couldn't even finish the sentence, it sounded too absurd to even be uttered. Vampires? Existing and roaming? What kind of Dracula sh—

"It is." You confirmed, Hange would've laughed at your trick if it hadn't been so confusing, except they did start laughing - the kind of nervous laughter one pulls out from their chest when they're scared. Shorter gasps mingled along with it, their body actively trying to neutralise a potential panic attack with a different physical respiratory response, especially since you weren't laughing along with them. The stony, faraway stare showed that you meant it.

The exsanguinated bodies, the delicate puncture holes, it all just made too much sense for something that just isn't supposed to make sense. "You're...not—that's not—vamp—they're..not real." You stood, striding over to the breathless detective folded on your wooden flooring. Your eyes met and their breathing simmered, equalising until they were completely calm. Hange drew out the remaining gasp as they caught their breath again. You didn't disorient them this time, you didn't want to.

"I'm afraid so, love, we're very real," "How did you do that?" Hange muttered, baffled by the manner in which you had ceased the onset of a panic attack, with just a glance. They blinked up at you, lashes fluttering behind a layer of thin glasses. Really, they are very pretty.

"Same way I got you to give me your badge and gun—the same way I got your ID and learned your name." "What? You can control minds, too?" "I guess, something like that."

Hange just nodded, you could see the literal cogs turning within their head. Their countenance switched from bewilderment to vague acceptance, then back to confusion. "Well, don't do it again—I don't like someone being in my head."

Your eyebrows tilted up with amusement, that wasn't a response you had anticipated. "That's very demanding, Hange." The detective gave you a look of shock.

"I just found out that va—vampires, exist, okay? Give me some slack." After a few seconds of self-deliberation, they spoke again, "Y-you said we? There's more?" Nodding, you answered, "You have to be turned, can't exactly get turned without somebody else," Hange's expression was undecided, "Think of it like a curse, a lifelong punishment."

Hange sensed resentment, there. An air of hopelessness. You don't even know why you're telling them all of this—maybe years of solitude left you lonely, craving a listening ear. Even if you do have to kill them by the end of it.

"Immortality? A curse?" Their eyes met yours again, searching within them for answers. They were intrigued, to say the least. I mean, years of multiple degrees and doctorates and Hange had been none the wiser to vampires? Of all things? You can't exactly blame them for needing more answers.

"Most of us didn't choose this for ourselves," sighing, you broke eye contact, "We just have to live with it, outliving all your loved ones—forced to drink or perish. Those are your only options." Hange sat absorbing your words, their entire world had been tilted upside down. Yet, they couldn't help but feel a little bad for you, for the subtle wave of melancholy in your tone. Hange didn't quite know what to make of this whole thing.

"So..you do need blood to live?" "I tried to live on animal blood, okay, but... it's not the same. It's like eating a bag of air—doesn't give me what I need." "Like eating junk food?" Hange questioned, "Instead of a real meal?"

The almost innocent comparison made you chuckle, a slight lift at the corner of your lips, "I suppose." Hange let out a gentle, huh, before looking back down. Could they really charge a supernatural being with a crime? But there were still victims, you still killed them, and that couldn't just be ignored.

Hange pulled at their restraints, neck turning to glance at your handiwork, it was impressive—pretty. They looked back towards you, "C-can you take these off?"

Your face hardened into a scowl, eyes narrowing. "I can't do that."

"You planning on keeping me here forever?" "Until I figure out what to do with you, yes." "I promise, I won't say anything."

"Please," you sneered, "Your promise will mean nothing the second I let you go." Hange sighed, "I mean it, you have my word." "That right, love? And what will you tell your fellow detectives?"

Hange blanched, "I-I don't know. We can close the case as cold—leave it as it is, as long as you don't drain anyone else." "I have to eat, Hange." "I know, which is why I won't say anything."

Your fingers came to rub at your forehead, "And how do you propose I eat, then?"

"Do you need to kill when you...feed?" "Not exactly—it's just easier so they don't go running and tell everyone. The compulsion doesn't work for an infinite amount of time—it runs out." Hange nodded, looking around the room in deep thought.

"Then, feed on me."

Shock choked your throat, what? You gaped at Hange from your chair, are they crazy? "You cannot be serious.." Hange shrugged, "It's a mutually beneficial agreement—I stay alive and learn all about this new world 'n you get to stay...well fed."

"And bodies stop dropping like flies.." Hange muttered, at a lower volume. You still caught it, of course. Were they proposing to self-sacrifice their own blood so no one else died? Hange almost laughed at your expression, wordless.

A human offering themselves up? You didn't ever think one would do that. It wasn't unheard of, other vampires had shared plenty of stories with you about their favourite humans—you had just decided, a long time ago, to maintain a healthy distance. However, the detective made an interesting offer and you're certain their blood would sate you for a while, with how loudly it's drumming against their neck. How divine would it taste? As enriching and decadent as you think?

"If it helps—I'm thinking of it as research," Hange explained, a crooked smile hanging on their lips, "All totally off the record—by the way."

Yeah, they definitely are crazy, you thought. Looking them over, in your years you had gotten pretty good at sniffing out lies, but there was thoroughly not a hint of it on Hange. No, it was even worse. That sincere excitement that fuelled their blood earlier had returned, replacing the previous fear. Groaning internally, you knew that they were offering a taste of what would probably be the most incredible bite of your life, right on a silver platter.

"My only rule is none of that creepy mind control shit—freaked me out."

With every new word out of their mouth, you grew additionally stunned. Never in your life had you expected this from a human. A crazy human, sure, but still? Hange seemed to have accepted the situation with basically abnormal ease and made their peace with the new information about the world. Almost lost their shit at the beginning, but you could sense their curiosity. It was outweighing their fear. By a long mile. Hell, they were even demanding shit from you—no one has even endeavoured to try that for decades.

Their blood thumped succulently, fear had long dissipated, replaced only by that delectable zeal. It was tough to decline their offer, honestly. Your mouth watered at the thought of tasting them, and you were hungry. The last time you fed was that fucker that got you caught.

Hange took notice of the darkening pools of black that endured over your eyes, hunger. Your tongue darted out to dampen your lip ever so slightly as you stared down at the tied-up detective in your bedroom. Hange should've perhaps felt more frightened than they were, but they couldn't lie and pretend that their intrigue was due to fear. Hange held eye contact firmly, almost challenging and prepared. You swear you could see a tinge of red splashed on their cheeks, with a glimmer in their eyes.

"I'll untie you," you hummed, "but if you make any quick movements, I catch even a hint of you thinking about bolting—you're dead." Hange shuddered, swallowing, you could see their veins throb before they nodded.

"I won't."

In a sudden flash, you were behind them, your cold hands meeting their warmer wrists as you delicately unlaced the silk scarves. Loosening them until Hange could have free movement. Hange gradually turned to face you, their hands rubbed at each wrist to soften the imprints of the restraints. Their breathing grew hefty, as they observed you, waiting. Tentatively, you reached to remove the silk still bunched around their jaw, before glancing into their eyes. Evaluating if they were going to try and make a run for it, but their scent filled your nose, eager and wanting. They were enjoying this. The realisation was dizzying—Hange was dizzying.

"You sure you want me to do this, love?"

Hange was feverishly warm, nodding, "As long as you don't drain me, yes." you hummed in response, desire fuelling your own keenness as you imagined their metallic taste.

"Where d'you want me to—" "Anywhere."

The corner of your lips quipped up, exposing the fangs protruding from your incisors as they grew longer with your increasing thirst. Hange felt themself shiver at the sight of longing glazed in your eyes. At the sharp points poking out from beneath your full top lip. Kinda sexy, Hange thought, wait wha—

Meanwhile, you were mulling. Blood from the wrist would suffice, it was tasty enough, but blood from the neck was much warmer, hotter, and more alive.

"Take off your coat 'n holster." Hange diligently followed your orders, discarding the heavy garment and unclipping the holster from their torso, throwing them down to the floor near the silk ties. You reached a hand out, inviting—an offer to guide them to a more comfortable place. Hange's hand met your own, a chill travelled down their spine as your colder fingers interlaced with theirs and you led them to your queen-sized bed.

You hadn't even used your powers, and yet they were still following you willingly, completely entranced of their own accord. You found that you liked it, found that it set your cold body alight, as it hadn't done for years. Hange sat at your bed, comfortably sandwiched between two pillows. Doe eyes watched you expectantly, the brown pools behind lenses tracking after your body as you charmingly placed yourself beside them. Thighs were touching against each other. This is kind of exciting, Hange thought.

"I've... been wanting to taste you all night," Hange let out a breathy gasp, the connotation of your words flustered them. The blush of their cheeks returning as you eyed them up, inching yourself closer to their slender neck. Fingers teased around Hange's knee.

"Could feel your blood flowing from across the street," you inhaled, a twinkle coming over your eyes, "just... irresistible."

Hange was lulled into a natural daze, the incitement of your words heating them up more than it should. Inching your head closer to their pulse point, your nose grazed over Hange's tender, shivering skin. The detective sighed, head lolling backwards a few angles to expose more of themself to you; allowing you more access. Hange's knee leaned itself into your palm.

"Wi-will it hurt?" "Not much, my love."

It's true, that after the sting of the initial punctures, fangs naturally seep the chemical Hange found, into their bloodstream. It was an evolutionary mechanism, developed to sedate, designed to be pleasurable. Hange was trembling beneath you, their hands squeezing together atop their thighs.

One of your hands reached out to unbutton the top four catches of their shirt, loosening the fabric around the collar to show their shoulders and collarbone. Looking down at their neck, you could see the raising bumps rising over their skin. You loosened up their tie, too, allowing it to dangle shamelessly over their bare throat.

Pressing your lips to peck at the skin, grazing right over the crook of their neck, you saw Hange swallow beside you. Their eyes fluttered shut, reeling in the sensation of the coldness of your satiny lips.

"Tell me when it's enough," you mumbled, in-between tender kisses, "just tap me and I'll stop."

Lost for words, Hange nodded, "Okay," their lips twitched at the feel of your own. Feeling the way your words blew against their skin, your hand raised from their thigh to grasp their waist. The other lifting to move Hange's hair out of the way. Your lips parted to sink your fangs into their olive skin. A hiss escaped from Hange at the initial sting. Eyes squeezed whilst their head fell back, and you grabbed the top of Hange's spine to provide support.

Their blood began to shed against your teeth, coating your tongue. "Ah—fuck." came from their wispy voice, followed by a lowered sigh, the chemical had kicked in. The pain subdued, easing off as their blood was drawn from your fangs. It was almost sensual, intimate.

A muffled groan reverberated from deep within your throat as you fed, their blood tasted even better than you could've ever imagined. Sweet and saccharine on your tongue. Their taste encompassed your senses, and your breathing heaved. Hange grasped the back of your neck and tightened their warm grip on you, drawing you closer to their own neck. Their lips split to release a sharp whimper whilst your teeth ravenously sunk deeper into the divine flesh.

Your senses were overloaded, Hange's fragrant elation candied their blood—so much different to how fear tasted. Amidst their elation and the overwhelming mouthful of blood, you could sense a dampness gathering within Hange's centre, leaking and sitting in between their legs—oh!

A rasped snarl evoked from your throat, and your fingers came to squeeze tighter into their midsection, just above their hip. Pulling your bodies tighter against one another, relishing and indulging your appetite in Hange's own depraved bliss.

Strength began to return to your limbs, enflaming your entire being as Hange's lithe body twitched and trembled. You were almost full, just a little longer. You'd have expected Hange to tap out by now; but the sporadic tremors of their thighs, the little jerks of their hips unveiled their lustful rapture.

"That feels—shit—f-fantastic," Hange whined, able to catch their voice to whine into the room's atmosphere, their speech soft and breathy. Lighter. You hummed into their neck, intoxicated and relishing in their divinity as you rid them of their blood. You rolled your tongue, lapping over the lacerated punctures. "Ah—" They keened, sinking themself further into your fangs, loving the sensation of the wet muscle passing against their skin. It felt like Hange had no intention of stopping you anytime soon, and if you continued you'd end up sucking them completely dry.

Removing your fangs from the indents in their neck, Hange grumbled beside you. With a closing swipe of your tongue over the fresh wound, you licked the remnants of blood sticking to their skin.

"Wait, wh-why'd you stop..." Hange was dazed, slowly blinking up at you with creeping disappointment, as they attempted to push your head back to where it was. "Love," you chuckled, licking the specks of blood caught in the corners of your mouth, "if I continued, you'd be dead—I've had my fill, thank you."

Hange definitely had not, though, a slight pout lifted their sweet lips. "You taste fucking delightful, thank you, dear." "But..." Hange firmly compressed their thighs together, desire sinking down their diaphragm from your pulling words as they were left with an uncomfortable dampness between their thighs, "..I.. enjoyed it."

"I'm sure you did, but I can't take anymore from you tonight." "I.." Hange's voice trailed off, unsure of whether they should continue speaking. "What is it, dear?"

Hange shied at the way you referred to them, words hesitant, "Can we... maybe, do this again?" "What, y'trying to make me a regular?" your words were teasing. Hange flushed, ears reddening as they fiddled with their dainty fingers. "I just thought that, maybe, this could be a permanent solution."

You studied them cautiously, understanding of what was truly going on here. Hange was hooked, and suddenly this had just gotten much messier than initially thought.

"How often do you...need to eat?" "Usually once a week, if it's good blood then longer—yours should keep me going for a good while."

You could smell Hange's rising disappointment, they nodded, "Oh."

"That's not a bad thing, you know?" you laughed, your posture relaxing as you nudged your shoulder into theirs, "Besides, y'need a few days to recover from the blood loss. So make sure you eat well, dear—get your strength back."

Hange looked up at you, the glasses placed on the aquiline bridge of their nose flashed with the reflections of the ambient lamps.

"That's... considerate of you," they whispered, taking in your words. "Well, I need to keep you healthy now, right?" "So that means, we can do it again?"

Their insistence was acutely endearing, you bit down a smile, "You keep your end of the deal, then I'll keep mine." Hange's lips twitched, stretching into a pleased grin, "I'll close the case as soon as I can—so no more bodies?" "No more bodies."

—

Truthfully, you'd been a little apprehensive to let Hange leave your house for work that following morning. (Yes, they did spend the night, you're not cruel—you couldn't let them pass out on the streets. That's all, nothing more.) A fiendish part of your paranoia was trying to persuade you that the detective had just put up a really convincing act, but you knew that didn't feel right. Humans couldn't hide sincerity like that with you in comparison to how they did with other humans. You could quite literally feel the lies, their quickening heart rates and body language gave them away all too easily.

Thinking back to that night, it felt like a little bit of a dreamy haze, you were surprised with yourself for even entertaining it for that long. Let alone allowing them to give you demands, none of that mind control shit—their words rang louder in your head as you chuckled to yourself. Catching a threatening smile forming against your cheeks as your thoughts fell back to the hopeful glimmer in their eyes as you agreed to feed on them again. Cute.

Excuse me, what the actual fuck? If you could glance in the mirror and actually see yourself, you'd have a stern one-on-one conversation with your own reflection. You'd say, just how the fuck could you let this happen! Should've just killed them and been done with it. But you just... couldn't. There was just something strangely charming about the detective. Intelligent and so, so cute.

That's without even thinking about how wonderfully delicious they were, offering themself to you as if they trusted you with their life. The way they squirmed beneath you, the little gasps that evaded Hange's throat as you drank. The throb between their thighs calling out for you to do something about it and... fuck, you were losing your train of thought.

This definitely isn't good, nor is it even wise. A deal with a human? Add that to your increasing list of recent mistakes. You can't just expect them to sell out their own species—but intuitively, you almost trusted Hange. Their personality felt too genuine, the blush on their cheeks when they got flustered and the pretty sounds they made as you fed, no one could just fake that, right?

Your phone buzzed as Hange's number popped through the notifications, they didn't let up on this that night. Went on a long ramble about how you should both be in contact so that dinner plans could be made effectively. They began a pattern of often texting you over the course of the week, clearly having a lot of questions about the nature of your 'curse', and it was a lot.

Hange tried to secretly code their questions to you in the form of pretending it was about a supernatural book series you were both discussing. Hange stated that you never know when phones and their messages are being tapped or logged; and that it was smart to use the book as a pretence, as if you were both just debating dorky questions within its universe context.

You didn't have the heart to tell them how painfully obvious they came across. Plus, although you thought of it as a little silly, you did periodically get gems like this:

hzoe: hey you think in that universe vampires can read minds? i feel like they could! you: No, probably not.

or:

hzoe: um how do u think they feel about period blood??? i mean what if they're just trying to go about their day and its that time of the month for a lot of people? how could they resist the urge to just stick a straw up there and go ham??

That particular one came in one day at eight in the damned morning, way too fucking early for that sort of question. Your reply never came for that one. Then there was your personal favourite:

hzoe: ya think they've ever gone down to the bottom of the ocean, just to see what's down there?

That one actually made you laugh, unfortunately. You decided that one day you'd actually try it—maybe relay your findings to your little scientist. Hange was clearly bursting out the seams with questions, and who better to ask than their friendly, local vampire? After a couple more days, Hange texted you again.

hzoe: hey, can we have dinner? (i'm not hungry, let's have dinner.)

The senses in your body ignited, thinking about the opportunity of being able to feed from Hange again. They'd been incredibly patient about it, albeit with a few questions regarding whether or not you were getting hungry. It was easily perceivable that they were getting more antsy, it seeped through the messages. And your filling from the last feed was wearing dry.

Hange was due to come down to your place after their shift—it's funny, they never were the type to leave work at the hour the shift ended. Always stayed behind, later than everyone else, focusing on research if there were no cases, which there barely ever were. So it's unusual to their colleagues that Hange is suddenly very eager to leave the workplace.

The detective hadn't shared the evidence they came across, true to their word, so the case had pretty much come to a standstill. People were obviously still confused, with so many unanswered questions and a recent lack of new bodies. Hange felt a little guilty for withholding information about the case from their longtime coworkers, but a deal is a deal. Hange considered themself a person of good faith, betraying your trust simply wasn't in the cards for them.

Hange was behaving normally around all of them, the only difference is that they were suddenly using their phone a lot more during breaks and actually leaving work at the time they were scheduled to. One of their coworkers pulled them to the side earlier in the day, a weird, little knowing glint plastered over his face as he interrogated Hange on if there was a new lady in their life.

Naturally, Hange got incredibly flustered, waving their hands in the air with attempts to refute the idea profusely; though the blush in their cheeks betrayed them. The coworker walked away laughing at them, shaking his head with a 'Sure,' clearly disbelieving of everything Hange tried to refuse. It was damning, for sure. However, Hange supposed it was better that they think this instead of the reality... so they just kind of let them believe it.

Meanwhile, you were feeling especially generous tonight, perhaps because of your own excitement or perhaps because Hange had stayed true to their deal for now. Either way, you decided to cook them a nice meal. It was mainly to ensure they had enough in their system to make up for the next loss of blood, at least that's what you told yourself.

The detective's car was heard before they were seen, you heard the drone of the engine come to a halt and a click of the lock. Hange knocked at your door, so you moved away from the oven top to let them in. Their intoxicating scent was back in your vicinity.

"Hey—wait, are you cooking?" Hange looked past you to the bubbling pot on the flame, "I thought you couldn't eat human food."

Suddenly, you felt sheepish, an unusual emotion for you, turning back to lean over the pot, "Uh, yeah I can't—it's for you." Hange's brows lifted, a quick look of surprise on their face before it switched to slight adoration. They nibbled on their lip, trying to ignore the squeeze that tightened around their chest at the sight of you cooking for them.

They had just finished up at work, and here you were cooking for them? The simple action felt so domestic, so marital, and you felt Hange's heartbeat hike up, thumping in your ears. "That's sweet, it smells great."

Shrugging, you turned back to face them, "I could hear your stomach rumbling from your car, I'm glad I decided to cook." You joked, trying to lighten the sudden severity of tension in your house.

"I did eat! I had a sandwich for lunch," you rolled your eyes. "That is definitely not enough if you're going to lose blood tonight,"

Hange reddened at your words, ashamed to admit they had been looking forward to this more than was probably necessary. Your voice broke them out of their thoughts, reminding them that food was ready and demanded that they sit down.

The detective removed their trench coat and holster, this time hanging it around the edge of your couch, before sitting down. The air was a little tense, filled with smokey anticipation as you loaded Hange's plate with your food.

"I didn't know you cooked," "I used to love cooking," you sighed, sitting parallel from Hange, with only a short cup of mellow whiskey on ice, "It's nice having a reason to do it again, even though I'm a little rusty now."

Hange watched you intently as you spoke, their thoughts haphazard and their hand grabbing a fork to load a bite into their mouth. The delightfully tender meat melted on their tongue, complimented by the combination of aromatics and spices you'd used to flavour the warm sauce.

"This doesn't taste like someone who's rusty—it's delicious." "I'm glad you think so,"

You sipped on your drink as Hange ate, feeling strangely proud that the food was being enjoyed. It was hard to ignore Hange's moans of food pleasure, rocking a little in their chair with contentment as they ate.

"Y'keep cooking for me like this and I'll have to marry you—" Your eyes lifted from your drink to Hange, who was sitting there with a bashful expression. "I didn—"

"No one ever cooked for you?" Changing the subject was a good idea, halt Hange's embarrassment and halt your own speeding heart. This was definitely not good.

"Not for a long time," It was slightly isolated being a chief detective. The social network ends up being the people on your squad or at the lab. Hange lived and breathed their work, relationships never at the forefront of their priorities. That, and the opportunity seldom showed itself.

Nodding, you brought the rim of the glass to your lips, letting the liquor slide into your mouth as Hange finished the meal, complimenting your efforts one last time. "You got a little..." you muttered, glancing at the smallest speck of sauce on the corner of Hange's lips. "Oh—" As Hange fumbled over themself to quickly fix it, you beat them to it. A calm hand reached over to swipe your thumb over their lower lip, effectively wiping the speck off.

Hange's chest rose and sank, frozen in place as your thumb remained hovering over their lip. Almost as if you were waiting for... oh. The pupils within Hange's eyes dilated, allowing the black of their eyes to expand as they split their lips to allow you entrance.

"Gotta have every last drop, right?" Your gentle words were like nectar, laced with a sweet insinuation and thick persuasion. The detective's plump lips pursed over your thumb, sucking the tiniest remnants of the sauce from your skin whilst oceans of black pools held your gaze. Hange's scent was coating the air, the excitement that returned to their blood was driving you out of decorum as it filled your senses.

Their tongue was lapping over your thumb, so obediently, until you popped it out from their mouth. Your lips tilted into a smirk as you took notice of Hange's disappointment. Thumb grazed over their bottom lip once more, smushing the plumpness around, wanting to tease the flustered detective for a little longer.

"Are you h-hungry?" Hange's twinkling, eager eyes pleaded, squirming around in their chair whilst your thumb pressed over their skin. "Starving."

Hange exhaled a heavy breath followed by them leaning closer into your space. "Can we go... into the bedroom?" Their gaze fell to your lips as your smile widened, "It—it's just more comfy." "Of course, dear."

The gulp that spanned down Hange's throat was unmissable, the spike in their heartbeat matched your own as you led them to your bedroom. It looked the same as it did last time, but the energy within it was entirely different, the kind of palpable charge that electrifies the air right before a storm. Closing the door, Hange seated themself on the edge of the bedcover, it was a kind of emerald velvet — affluent and plush. Most things in your house had a look of regalness. Hange's fingers skimmed over the lush fabric, a stim to release the tension building within their limbs.

Sitting across from them, you set a soothing hand on their knee. Hange looked more uneasy than last time, and you worried that they no longer wished to continue with it and just weren't stating so. "You don't have to do this... I can find another source." Hange instantly broke out of their trance, the lid over their eyes enlarging as they shook their head. "No! That's not.. what I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking, then?" "Would it be okay if..." the rest of the sentence retreated, Hange growing timid, "Could you kiss me? Before you do it?" It was hard to not be endeared by the detective, with shrinking words but insistent determination overpowering it.

"Want me to kiss you, dear?" Hange nodded, with a slight circumference of their lip drawn in by their teeth, their eyes trailing down to your silken mouth. Leaning your head closer to theirs, your vision flicked from their eyes to their parting lips. Your faces were centimetres away from each other, Hange's head at an incline to yours, endeavouring to haul you in.

Hange simmered with anticipation as you teasingly extended the process, inciting them with scorching greed. You wanted to draw this out—knowing that once you kissed Hange, both of you could sink into something deeply irreversible. So you waited, breathing Hange's sighs into your orbit as you observed the way impatience began to riddle their face. The subtle tweaks of their eyebrows as their half-lidded eyes lingered on your lips. Hange whimpered when you got a little closer, a slight graze of plumpness against their own led them to believe you'd finally attach, to no avail.

"Please."

Your lips curved upwards as you finally pressed them against Hange's, who felt such a beguiling relief at the connection. Your hands reached up to grasp Hange's jaw, pulling them closer. Hange sighed as your lips united. Softly and hesitant at first, a means for growing comfortability at Hange's request. Then it escalated, the scent of Hange's blood rose with ardour as the kiss intensified. Open mouths split to allow tongues to mix with the heat, wet muscles ravaged one another.

Hange gripped at your neck with a slight tightening of their digits on your skin. You felt yourself reel, their scent kindling carnal want within your stomach, rousing your ferocity. You liked kissing Hange, more than any other in the past, perhaps more than you should. Their little incensed groans that muffled against your lips spurred you to place your hands beneath their thighs, tugging Hange from their position and manoeuvring them between your pillows. Hange's thighs split to accept your placement in between.

The kiss was maddening, Hange's entire being was all-consuming. Lasciviously, your teeth clamped down on their bottom lip, erupting a hiss from Hange as you sucked the tiny beading of blood from their skin, you couldn't contain your keenness to taste Hange again.

Your lips separated as Hange's head nestled between the cushions. Their glasses were a little crooked on the bridge of their nose, dishevelled from when you cruised Hange to lie down, their lips plumpened and swollen from the ambush. With a chuckle, you fixed their glasses for them, straightening them into proper line— Hange was left with no option but to watch you do it as they replenished the air back in their lungs, a deep set in their lower belly as you gently fixed the placement of their glasses.

Lowering your head, your nose grazed up from their hollowed trachea to the space below their ear. Hange freely hung their head back, deliriously exposing their neck further to you. They were gifting you their skin as they waited for you to feed. You pressed a peck against the side of their neck to simply watch the shivers descend their body.

The buttons clasping the fabric of Hange's shirt were now undone, this time it wasn't just the top four buttons. You had every intention of keeping it that way, of leaving Hange with some remaining dignity but they just didn't want it. Their slender fingers unclasped the perilous buttons you had nobly ignored. The two separate sides of their office shirt now disconnected to present an indecent flash of Hange's tanned skin. A delectable contrast against the white shirt, the light in the room shadowed the contours of their sternum leading down to their navel. A little trail of hair guided your eyes down, just to be covered by the waistband of their pants.

You almost audibly groaned, feeling yourself debilitated by Hange's enticing snare. They were trying to lure you in, a tempting song ringing in your ears. The heaves within their chest are more captivating with the lack of any covering fabric, the stiffening of their nipples poked through the half-opened shirt. Hange's collarbone, sternum and tight stomach are all unrestricted, free for you to gaze upon and admire. Hange was simply ravishing.

Placing a hand below the loose fabric, you grasped their hipbone, squeezing once you heard Hange draw in a gasp at the coldness of your fingers against their enflamed being. As much as you tried to withhold yourself, and control your gluttony—Hange was making it exceedingly difficult. Your lips hovered over their neck, on the opposite side of where you punctured last time and licked up a stripe with your tongue. You weren't as gentle with it as last time. Spurred by Hange's sounds and their insistence on sinking you down with them. Hange shuddered underneath you, inclining their neck closer to your teeth as you pricked your fangs deep into their flesh.

The exquisite flavour of Hange's blood once more filled your mouth, coating your tongue. You hummed into their neck, fingers digging into their hip as you drank voraciously. Hushed moans escaped from Hange's lips as your fangs drew the very blood from their veins. Hange was a lot more vocal this time, whimpering at how fucking good it feels to have your fangs piercing their skin again. The slick pooling between their legs reaches your nose delightfully, and you can hear their pulsing clit. Dangerous words slip from Hange's mouth.

"Fuck—" Hange whispered with delirium, their voice was taut and airy as their hips writhed against your body, perfectly nestled between their thighs, "Wish you could do that forever,"

The depravity of Hange's words ensnared you, finding yourself losing your grip on reality. So do I, you thought. In a fit of lust, coaxed by Hange's intensity, your knee pressed itself against Hange's centre. At the wicked combination of your knee and the added exhilaration of your fangs buried deep within their skin; Hange let out a vulgar, insatiable moan. Their hands came to dig into your back as their mind whirled. Hange was in a stupor, clouded by their prurient desires. Obsessed, that's how they felt. Utterly addicted to you, and now that you'd kissed them? Now that your knee was bucking into their throbbing core? No chance. They wanted you to be theirs, they didn't care for the logistics of reality.

Hange had been pining hard over the last week, indulging themself in sordid thoughts of your fingers deep inside their walls. The images kept them up at night, flicking their index over their own clit as they imagined you snug in between their thighs. Hange was aching then just as they're aching now. They felt their head grow lighter with the loss of blood, it was spurring their wretched want for you as they ground their hips against your knee, panting with their head back.

You were in a similar way. Senses overly just full of Hange—their desire was radiating from their body and the copper taste of their blood was so intensely intoxicating. You knew you had to stop feeding soon, though, you'd been full a while ago, and Hange couldn't afford your licentious greed. You want this one around. Rather begrudgingly for both of you, you unhooked your fangs from Hange's throat, licking up the specked remnants splattered on their neck.

"Sublime, as always."

Hange whined as they recognised that it was over, lifting their head to meet eyes with you again. Hange lips stretched to grin up at you, beaming as their luscious left-over blood trickled down from your lips. Shame was way out of the window as they felt themself clench around nothing at the sight. Gathering a good dose of it on their fingers, Hange slipped their blood-covered fingers into your open mouth for you to appreciate. They couldn't help the deviant sounds they evoked, watching you happily lap up the maroon nectar drying on their svelte fingers with your eyes closed, groaning at their taste.

"Every last drop, right?" Hange mumbled, voice thick with wanton need. Their hips started winding against your knee again, causing fleeting bouts of tantalising euphoria to spread in their stomach. Grasping Hange's wrist tenderly, you pushed away their fingers from your mouth, tugging both wrists to a limp above their head. Gazing down at Hange as their lips split with each buck of your knee.

"If you keep looking at me like that, dear, I won't stop," you muttered, your free hand skimming over their stomach, twitching as you grazed past their abdomen and landed just above their waistband. Hange fidgeted beneath you, pulling your lower body tighter against their centre with their thighs.

"That sound good?" Hange nodded, "Please— it's all I've been t-thinking about..."

Loosening the buttons on their jeans, you pulled their clothing off. All that remained was the slutty white top baring Hange's torso and shoulders to you, the long sleeves ended up bunched around their elbows.

"What else have you been thinking about, huh?" Hange glanced up at their crossed wrists, propped up above their head still even though your hands had long stopped holding them. Obedient. "The silk ties.."

"What about them, sweetheart?" "I l-liked them on my skin," Hange sighed when they felt your fingers teasing their inner thighs, "I want you to tie my wrists with them, again, please."

A treacherous heat fevered down to your stomach, you swallowed an exhale. "Well," You grumbled, "How can I say no to that?"

You leaned over to grab the silk scarves from your dresser. Usually, you used them for your hair but this was a great alternative. Slipping the delicate silk around Hange's crossed wrists, you left their arms hanging above their head, tied and trapped.

Hange's arousal was thumping against your ears, increased with the new position. Sitting into a straddle over their pelvis, the slit of your long skirt exposed your lithe thighs as the fabric bunched around your waist. Hange's lensed eyes studied you, heavy and thick as they took in the newly bared skin that they now just couldn't touch. Your chest was close to theirs as you hovered your mouth above their lips.

"I—shit," "What is it, Hange, what else d'you want?" You placed your knee back in between their legs, your other leg was curved around their right, teasing their relief. "Can—can you just fuck me, please—" Hange was pleading, voice embarrassed and their lidded eyes dark. The closeness of your knee to their pulsing core was overbearing, just left in wait for some real touch.

Grazing your fingers down their exposed sternum, you provoked a little pressure with your nails. Light scratches rubbed against Hange's soft skin, leaving pinkish marks on their torso. Their stomach twitched and their pelvis rutted up at the action, causing the skin of your knee to bump against their bare slit. "Hnf—please, I—"

"Need you—so bad," Your hand travelled lower, ever so slow, tormenting. Fingers grazed over Hange's seeping clit, it was swollen and begging for touch. You groaned as you trialled a swipe with your index, feeling how arduously saturated Hange was for you.

"Got this wet just from me feeding on you?" you chuckled, enjoying the little twitches in Hange's facial expressions, "My god, love, you're fucking soaked."

"Pl-please—can't take it any more," "You don't even feel an ounce of shame, do you?" you began rubbing over their clenching, puffed clit, "No, you don't care how twisted this is." Hange whined, rippling their pelvis over your hand, their eyes closing as you finally soothed the fiendish craving.

"You just want some release, don't you, Hange?" Hange cried beneath you, their wrists weakly lowering ever so slightly to rest atop their head. Dousing your fingers over their leakage for less friction, you rolled pressure over their clit with your digits. You enjoyed seeing them like this.

Hange let out lecherous, unstable moans, relishing at the feel of your coldness massaging their swollen bud. Your words were driving them to a growing, rapid insanity. Hange startled when you effortlessly slid two fingers into their heat, curling them up to hit the back of their inner walls.

"Ah—fuck—yes, fuck—finally." Lowering yourself down to their pelvis, fingers ramming inside Hange as you rested your head on their spread thigh. Hange could just stare down at you, sat pretty between their legs with a damned smile on your lips as Hange was coming apart on your fingers.

"You look so p-pretty—like that," Hange mewled, your eyes sparkling as you saw their blissed disposition. "Yeah?" you bit the corner of your inner lip, before grazing your lips over their inner thigh, pecking, "This what you thought about?"

Hange nodded, exhaling deeply as they peeped the expansion of fangs from your teeth. The sharp incisors pulling across the sensitive skin of Hange's inner thigh. Their thigh twitched when you buried a light nip on their skin, a tiny bead of blood drawing out. Not enough to drain them, just a little drop, just a little extra taste. The tied-up wrists above Hange's head were trembling, losing control over their muscles as your tongue poked out to swipe up the small, maroon bead.

"Fuck—that's, hn, fuck." Your tongue left a viscous mark in its wake, you licked up Hange's thigh, leaving them twitching on your fingers. You prodded the squish of their walls, assailing a spot that had Hange shivering and mumbling out salacious cries.

Your mouth was so close to their pussy, Hange couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. Head leaning back into the pillows ruinously as your tongue tentatively swiped along the dewy sap coating their slit. Their blood tastes divine, but this was almost better. Their scent and taste crowded your senses, it was all Hange, dizzying you. Their hedonistic whimpers forced you to carnally crave more of them; the sweetest blood you had ever tasted and the most inviting pussy to ever grace your tongue.

Your muffled moans fell into Hange's core as you ate it, their hips quipped up desperately to feel your tongue, their oozing pussy clenching tight to burrow in your fingers. "So fucking tight, shit," you murmured. Hange's bound wrists and bent elbows were in tremors as they allowed you to have all of them, thighs spreading out further to trap you within.

"Shit—like that, fuck—unh—" Hange's debased vocals made you wayward, incensed to bring the cute detective to their last brink, all splayed underneath you. Your fingers worked steadfastly, kneading into Hange's welcoming heat with an unwavering rhythm. The tension in their abdomen tightened, it flexed and twitched with your movements as your tongue slowly ravished over Hange's swollen bud.

Your free hand slithered up to cup around Hange's breast, tracing around the stiffened nipple. Hange's back arched up to greet your hand and you spread the plush skin between your fingers. Minute grunts were stuck in Hange's throat whilst you tweaked the firm bundle, the nerves eliciting acute thrills down their spine.

"Feels, s'fucking good—shit, love seeing you there."

With half-lidded eyes, Hange stared down at you, gulping, when they witnessed how deeply enraptured you were in between them. Your jaw and mouth buried into their slit, your brows pinched as frenzied mumbles vibrated in your throat. Leftover streaks of blood drying on their thigh from the bite. It was sinful, how miserably turned on they were from it. By the sight of you working them with eager might, and Hange left unable to touch you, can't even squeeze on to the nice, velvet sheets as their peak builds up. Lifting your tongue from them briefly, you mutter to yourself, "Fucking delicious," before delving back in.

That was enough for Hange, "Fuck, 'm gonna fucki—hng, 'm so close—pleas- keep going," The overwhelming bliss of sensations and your carnal words caused the tension to tighten and tighten until their abdomen ruptured their orgasm with a voluptuous cry from their lips. Slight tremors and twitches in the detective's pelvis and legs as they ride their release on your diligent fingers and tongue. Their nails broke the skin of their hands, the only physical outlet to relieve their release within the silk confines on their wrists.

"Fuck..." Hange whispered, blissed out as their ears began to ring. You lifted your head from their legs, impishly checking on them as their chest heaved. Soaked fingers slid out, pulling a final pulsing clench from Hange's pussy.

You kneeled up, sitting on folded calves as Hange's chest attempted to relax into a normal breathing pattern. Reaching up to untie the knots in the silk scarf from around their numbed wrists, which then lowered to bring forth circulation again. Their head was sunken back in the pillows whilst their eyes were on you, suddenly sheepish.

"You okay?" you cautioned warily, grasping their wrist to soothe over the indented marks left over their arms. Hange gaped as you tenderly rubbed over the marks, in such a gentle manner. "Yeah—just a little out of it," Hange lightly huffed, eyes fixed as you continued to caress their tender skin.

You halted your movements on their wrists to request eye contact, a hand grasping Hange's soft jaw to allow them to look at you. Hange's breath hitched, their doe eyes reflecting an unreadable expression within. You smiled at them, rubbing a thumb over their jaw before you fixed their crooked glasses once more, setting them properly on Hange's nose bridge. The cherry on top was a little, light peck you rested on Hange's nose.

Hange felt their heart liquefy, a sturdy weight blossomed in their chest. They hadn't expected you to be so sweet and... loving? A bashful grin quipped on their lips, this was bad. Incredibly bad. Dangerous, in fact. The beating in their chest was thick with a longing admiration, a deep-set yearn burning in their rib cage.

Similarly, as loud as you felt Hange's heartbeat in your ears, it was rivalling your own. An invisible thread pulling you towards the detective as you felt the most apprehensive you'd felt in decades. Hange was giving you the look, their eyes blown out and sparkling, full of expectation and craving. You dreaded to think that yours matched it. They were looking at you like they were in love, and it was terrifying.

This time, your chest rose and sank. With a part of your lips, you sighed. Feeling your own chest betray the steely damn you'd built over the years, full of distance and hesitance. You failed to find the power to re-build it, not when Hange was looking at you like that.

"That... was really nice," Hange chuckled, an adoring glaze struck in the amber of their eyes. You hummed an agreement, securing the loosened strands of Hange's hair behind their ear. Hange was melting right in front of you, your stern boundaries had been long crossed. You didn't quite know what to do with it.

The slight incline of their jaw towards you indicated that they wanted to kiss you, to make a final connection of your lips. The look in their eyes was so sweet, awaiting you making a closer move. You found that you couldn't resist, the thread dragging you towards their lips as you melded them together.

Hange sighed into the kiss, their arms wrapping around your neck to lure you into their close proximity.    After a few seconds of longing connection, after a few swipes of tongue and saliva, Hange's hands travelled down. Lethally slipping their fingers underneath the slit of your skirt, and pulled your thighs apart.

"Hange—wait," you broke the kiss, "You don't owe me anything back, okay?" Hange laughed and shook their head, leaning down to press precarious pecks down the length of your throat, all while their hand inched higher up your silky thigh. "I know."

You had forgotten how much of a determined person Hange is. Truthfully, you were soaked. Had made a mess of your underwear long before you even touched Hange, before you'd even ruined them.

"I just... really want to touch you," Hange muttered, their tongue swiping down to the hollow of your throat. Your skin was set alight again, burning down your cold body as Hange timidly pushed their fingers past your underwear.

"C-can I?" They pleaded, eyes thick with lust, and you nodded.

The fabric shoved to the side to expose your own pulsing heat to Hange, swollen and aching since you first sunk your teeth into Hange. "I mean, shit—you're this wet and I can't touch you?" Hange grumbled, sinking back into delirium as three fingers slipped inside your dewy slit, "Fuck, you feel so nice on my fingers."

You nipped at the corner of your bottom lip, entranced by Hange's keenness. Slowly, you lifted the hem of your shirt, breasts hanging free against your chest. Hange gaped at the sight of you, the stiff peaks edging your breasts and goosebumps rising down your arms. "You're beautiful, fuck,"

"Hange—" you sighed, grabbing a hold of their shoulders when Hange placed your thighs over their hips. Your pelvis began to rock against their fingers, over their hips as they plunged into your walls.

"Fuck—deeper." you ordered, a whiny order but an order nonetheless. Hange loved having you like this, still telling them what to do even if they were the one fucking you.

"I'll do anything you want," Hange promised, their words leaving space for double meanings. It was making you dizzy, they were so eager to please you. All of their own accord.

Hange's dainty fingers pressed further up, curling inwards against your velvet walls, you were using their hand to sate your avid ardour. Losing yourself in the feel of their fingers working so desperately to make you cum.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart—fucking me like that," your tantalising words incentivised the detective with an impassioned thirst. Hange let out little gasps and moans as your pussy sucked their fingers in. Their eyes locked in on the licentious way their fingers were more slicked with your arousal each time they pulled out.

Hange glanced up at you, locking eyes for a moment to catch the minute twitches in your face, before they sunk their head down to wrap their warm mouth around your nipple. Their teeth grazed over the sensitive bud, then licked a few swipes over with their tongue.

"You're so good for me, Hange—fuck—so good, just for me," your voice was breathy, the length of Hange's fingers inside you caused spasms in your abdomen to rip through you. "'m so close, Han—harder-fuck—you're gonna make me come,"

Hange pleaded beneath you, humming with coarse devotion. Whispers of please come for me—need to see you come for me, slipping from their lips. If Hange was hooked, you were even worse off. The pretty detective making you lose any semblance of your own principles as you left yourself attach to them.

With a few more barrages of their fingers against your squishy spot, your hands tightened their grips on Hange's back as you spilled your release over their hand. The muscles in your abdomen convulsed, with a final gasp, you came hard, body trembling above Hange's hips as you slowed your movements against their wrists.

Hange slipped their fingers out of you when they saw your hips steadying. In a daze, you grabbed at their wrist, drawing their soaked fingers along their bottom lip. Hange whined, mouth opening to take them in, lapping up the sweetness of your release coating their  drenched digits.

"Every last drop, right?" you huffed, catching your breath and the look Hange gave you made you clench. A perverse profane glance into your eyes as they groaned, muffled by your fingers sitting on their tongue. Hange nodded pathetically in agreement against your hand, almost gagging on your fingers.

You knew you were done for. Hange had worked their way into deep your heart. An ever growing soft spot for the cute detective. Hange had already been aware they were caught in your trap a while ago, it just took you a little longer to catch up.

Neither of you knew what this meant, an uncertain future for both of you. But Hange knew this:

They'd rather have this be the one case they never solved, than ever turn you in.

—

well… here it is, if u spot any errors im sorry 😭

would love to hear ur guys’ feedback!! leaving a comment or any reblogs are greatly appreciated <3333

[dragqueenstarscream]

If the Transformers characters belonged to a series about school, what kind of students or teachers would they be?

i'm actually working on a tfp college au right now, so i'll share some of my ideas here:

optimus - out of town country boy who moved to iacon for his master's degree in engineering and works in the library to help pay his tuition

ratchet - med school student gunning to be a neurosurgeon once he graduates; one of optimus' friends from back home

arcee - bumblebee's best friend and a business major who also kicks ass on the track and field team (she's also in the gaming club but she won't tell anyone that)

cliffjumper - arcee's boyfriend and majoring in history; currently in rotc

bumblebee - sophomore getting his bachelor's in environmental science, sees optimus like a big brother; head of the robotics club

bulkhead - junior in architecture while also a wide receiver on the football team

smokescreen - freshman getting his degree in engineering, also on the basketball team; has tutoring sessions with optimus

wheeljack - bulkhead's long term boyfriend at a different college studying computer programming

megatron - political science major and captain of the debate team; no war in this au so he isn't evil, but his intensity can freak people out

starscream - out of town rich kid majoring in biochemistry with hopes to join the medical field (also has a FAT crush on optimus but that's just me)

soundwave - quiet kid and megatron's close friend majoring in communication; has dirt on literally everyone at that college

shockwave - psychology major and member of the robotics club; tends to scare the shit out of everyone but soundwave

knock out - starscream's insufferable roommate and also on the medicine track; annoys the hell out of ratchet

breakdown - knock out's bf and majoring in english (i always hc that he's not as dumb as he seems); on the football team and has a friendly rivalry with bulkhead

airachnid - majoring in physical therapy and on the track team; chronic mean girl who has a not so friendly rivalry with arcee

[clareguilty]

Ghost/Soap/Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink

This fic was written for Kinktober 2024! Let me know what you think <3

Ghost/Soap/F!Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink, strength kink, dacryphilia Rating: Explicit | WARNINGS: EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: ~3400

The last thing you expected when you answered the knock on your office door was the sight of two uniformed soldiers, both broad enough to fill the entire doorway each, expressions grave. You ushered them inside your small, cluttered office tucked away in the biochemistry wing of the university building. Being the head of the pharmacology department did not come with a sprawling mahogany desk and glorious window views. You were lucky to have a desk and a window at all.

Still, you were the best in your field, and that had granted you tenure and funding to continue your research as well as a small team of graduate students and postdocs to boss around as you pleased.

One of the soldiers introduced himself as Captain Price, the other a corporal under his command. You cleared off space on your desk as the corporal opened a locked case and pulled out a laptop.

“Anything you are about to see is highly classified information,” the captain warned you. “Our intel pertains to ongoing operations to stop a dangerous organized terrorist group.”

You nodded along, but your focus was on the footage being played on the laptop. The drone shots and shaky handheld cameras, clips of lab workers handling samples while suited head to toe in protective equipment. There was footage of soldiers experiencing a variety of symptoms: aggression, paralysis, psychosis.

The corporal opened a file for you to scroll through. Pages and pages of reports.

“Biochemical weapons,” you murmured to yourself. “Inhalants?”

“Gas,” the captain confirmed. “Your security clearance is still in the system from your field work on that operation in Andorra. Our people are using your research as the blueprint.”

You were the leading expert on biochemical weaponry, much of your research was centered around synthesizing field antidotes. It had been a few years since you were last out in the field, taking samples from warzones and the sites of attacks.

“You need me out there?” You asked. But you already knew the answer. They wouldn’t be here in your office otherwise.

“You’ll be working with our top tactical operations team. The best men we’ve got. Whatever they’re making in these labs, we need to put a stop to it, and then we need to figure out how they’re doing it.”

You looked at the footage again - civilians this time - and felt your stomach turn at the sight.

“When’s the earliest we can leave?” You asked, closing the laptop to hide the horrifying images.

-

The body armor on your last field operation had been simple: a bullet proof vest with a mask and helmet. You had worn your civilian clothes and brought along everything else yourself.

“Alright, Dove, arms up,” the special forces sergeant, Soap, grinned as he dropped a heavy vest over your head. You dutifully raised your arms so he could fasten the tangle of buckles until you were secured.

“Thanks,” you glanced down at the overwhelming amount of gear that was now covering your front.

“You’ve got your radio,” he tapped the top left pocket, “Compass, shears, three mags of extra ammunition, scopes, batteries, and torch.” You watched him point out each item. “On your belt here you’ve got your pistol, knife, and canteen.”

Soap put his own gear on much faster than it had taken to kit you out. He carried even more equipment, but he somehow made it look easier.

You had been staying at the temporary base with Captain Price’s 141 task force for days now. Without access to quality lab equipment, you were working tirelessly to find answers about the biochemical weaponry using whatever was available. As impressive as your makeshift setup was, it wasn’t near precise or thorough enough to save lives.

It felt a little ridiculous. A researcher surrounded by a bunch of special forces giants. They were welcoming and friendly - except for the terrifying lieutenant with the skull mask, but you knew you were out of your depth surrounded by cases full of rifles and grenades. Sleeping on a cot and eating rations cooked off a gas burner.

Captain Price had done whatever he could to make you more comfortable. The encampment was a few secured buildings and several large tents. And while you were accustomed to the conditions after your previous field research, they had afforded you as much privacy as possible. 

Underneath the teasing and jokes, Soap was kind and friendly. He’d nicknamed you their ‘peace dove’ on the first day, and you hadn’t been able to shake the moniker since.

Even Lieutenant Ghost had been considerate as you tried to keep up with the heavy military jargon and unfamiliar protocols. He slipped you candy bars that were definitely against regulations and sat with you after the countless briefings to explain all of the commands that had flown over your head rapid-fire. He was still scary.

The last military squadron you had worked alongside had mostly ignored you, frustrated with your inexperience and occasionally downright cruel. They hadn’t respected your expertise or your research despite your attempts to explain how vital it was to their safety.

There was none of that here.

After several days of monitoring intel and surveillance, Price had finally made the call to infiltrate the terrorist labs. The only way to stop these weapons would be to secure the materials themselves.

Soap and Ghost were assigned to clear out any hostiles, and your mission was to gather anything in the labs that would help to stop production of the weapons and synthesize antidotes.

It was difficult to keep up with them as they closed in on the lab. You had been instructed to hang back a ways while they engaged, but even then you were struggling to match their pace.

You had never known anyone who could make an assault rifle look small until these men. Like they were holding a toy. Despite their size, both the sergeant and the lieutenant were exceptionally fast even with all their gear.

As you approached the location of the terrorists’ labs, Ghost signaled for all of you to halt. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pressed you into a crouch inside a copse of brush where you would be able to keep cover.

“Stay here. We’ll engage the hostiles and bring you in as soon as the site is secure,” he ordered.

Both he and Soap immediately made to move in, but you managed to catch Soap by the hand. “Be careful,” you warned. “We have no clue what kind of shit they’re cooking up in there.”

“Don’t worry, Dove. We’ll do just fine,” Soap promised with a grin.

And then they were gone.

The silence that filled in after their retreating boot steps was excruciating. The sharp cracks of gunfire that rang out in short bursts were somehow even worse. You couldn’t radio in without risking the operation - the noise could give away their position - so you were left waiting until Ghost signaled the all clear. As the minutes dragged on since the last round of shots, you prayed you wouldn’t have to fall back on your contingency extraction: if you didn’t hear from either Soap or Ghost after two hours, you were to make your way to a designated pickup spot.

Your radio crackled.

“You there, Dovie?” Soap’s voice came through. He sounded uninjured.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” That was Ghost this time. “We’ve eliminated all hostiles. Give us ten more minutes to secure the site, and then I’ll send Soap to come get you.”

“Copy that.” An unbelievable amount of tension seemed to melt out of you at that, and you let out a heavy sigh.

Not even a minute later you heard a distant bang. Not gunfire. A small explosion.

“Lieutenant?” You immediately called over the radio. “What was that?”

“Fucking hell!” Soap shouted. “The lab was rigged!”

“Lieutenant?” You were already pushing to your feet, rushing out of the safety of your cover and towards the labs.

“We tripped something,” Ghost finally responded. “They had canisters set to burst if the lab was tampered with.”

“You mean you got dosed?” Your fingers were numb with fear as you fumbled with your radio. “Are you experiencing any symptoms? I’m on my way now!”

The radio was silent for a few moments, but you were sprinting as fast as you could toward the site. If you could get there quick enough, maybe you could find an antidote somewhere in the labs. They wouldn’t know what to look for, but if you could find out what was in those canisters, surely you could fix this.

“Wait, Dovie,” Soap’s voice was rough, breathy. “Stay where you are. Don’t come near here.”

“I’m the only chance you have at finding an antidote,” you shouted into the radio.

“Hold your position. Do not approach. That is an order,” Ghost snarled, but you were already at the entrance, flying through the path of carnage Soap and Ghost had left. The satellite images in the briefing had given you a rough idea of where you needed to go, and the trail of bodies confirmed you were on the right track.

As you came up on the entrance to the labs, someone tackled you into the wall, pinning you in place. You screamed, but a gloved hand covered your mouth.

“It’s just me,” Soap assured you. “But you shouldn’t have run in here without your weapon drawn. Shouldn’t have come in here at all.” He pulled his hand away so you could gulp down a breath.

“Whatever you were hit with, they might have an antidote. If I can get to it before it’s too late-“

Soap cut you off. “You’re worse than me at following orders.”

”Let me go.” You tried to squirm out of his hold.

Soap made a choked off sound in your ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s the gas. I swear. We didn’t know the lab was rigged.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Jesus, Dove, you have to forgive me. Promise? I can’t fight it.”

“Whatever it is, you’ll be okay. Just let me go, Soap.”

He was pinning you in place with his entire body weight, panting against the back of your neck as he easily kept you still despite your attempts to break free.

Thankfully, you heard the sound of heavy boots approaching. That had to be Ghost.

He rounded the corner and you cried out. “Lieutenant! Please, sir!”

Ghost snarled when he saw you trapped beneath Soap. He crossed the room in three easy strides and ripped the sergeant off of you. Soap hit the floor with a groan, and you tried to back away.

Except the Ghost was closing in on you, knife drawn. He cornered you easily, and the fear had you freezing in place. You weren't a trained soldier. You weren't equipped to handle these kinds of situations.

You flinched as Ghost grabbed for you, squeezing your eyes shut and preparing for the worst, but there wasn't any pain - just the sound of tearing fabric and the sensation of your body armor falling away to a heap on the floor.

“Gotta get these off you,” he growled, crowding even closer against you. His voice wasn’t nearly as rough or as breathless as Soap’s. When you finally worked up the courage to open your eyes, Ghost was leant over you with his face in your neck taking deep inhales. Was he… smelling you?

They’d both been dosed. You had never seen symptoms like these before, but it wasn’t a typical toxin. Surely you could find an antidote if they just let you go.

And then Soap was back, pawing at the space between your bodies. “Please, Ghost,” he was begging, “feels like I’m about to die. Fuck. Need it so bad.”

Ghost pulled away from your neck, reached out to grab Soap by the jaw, holding him still. There was a moment of quiet save for both yours and Soap’s panicked breathing. “Alright, Johnny.” He finally assented. “You gotta go easy, you hear? Don’t wanna break her.”

You didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but struggling was absolutely useless when Ghost was holding a knife. You knew what he was capable of.

It was too quick for you to even register. Soap was fast. He snatched the knife from Ghost and cut your clothes away, taking you down to the ground with some sort of wrestling maneuver you were never going to escape from.

“I’m so sorry, Dove,” Soap was apologizing again. “Can’t fucking help it.”

He shoved his own gloves and gear away, fumbling to open his trousers before freeing his cock. He was achingly hard, and dripping. He was also fucking huge. His eyes fluttered shut in relief as he wrapped his hands around the length and gave a few lazy strokes, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that would be all it took.

“Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Don’t fuss,” Soap placed a finger over your lips to quiet you, then he shoved it inside your mouth. You weren’t sure if biting him would end well for you. He grabbed your legs by the knees, raising your hips until your pussy was on display for him. “That’s a good girl.” He spit on his fingertips and began rubbing at your entrance, as if that would be enough lube.

He pressed two fingers inside of you, but you were so terrified that it didn’t feel right at all. It hurt. You screamed, and suddenly Ghost was there.

“This is the only way to help,” he said, and you noticed he had a silver canister in his hands. “I promise this will make it easier.”

You didn’t have enough time to react before he crushed the canister with just his gloved hands. A deafening hiss drowned out the sounds of your own sobs and your vision went white as the contents of the canister filled the air. You couldn’t hold your breath at all, not when you were sobbing with gasps of pain. The gas settled over your skin, inside your mouth and nose. You instinctively swiped your tongue against your teeth and cheeks. It tasted powdery and sour.

“Give her a second, Johnny,” Ghost ordered.

You were almost glad they had cut your clothes away because your skin was suddenly too warm. Too clammy. Your mouth went from bitter and dry to watering with saliva in a matter of seconds. Every sensation felt sharper, and the pain disappeared. Soap was just as warm where you were pressed against him, and his fingers inside you were now drenched in slick wetness.

How were they even able to think like this? They’d been dealing with these symptoms for longer than you and somehow still had control of themselves. You had been exposed to the gas for less than a minute and all rational thought had left you.

“That’s a good girl,” Ghost’s voice reached you through the drunken haze and you whined. “Spread yourself nice and open on Johnny’s fingers.”

Oh. You were fucking your hips against Soaps’ hand. He was watching the sight with his pupils blown wide as he pressed a third finger inside of you. The stretch felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

“Please,” you begged. “More. Please.”

Soap curled his fingers inside you and you cried out. He held your hips still with his free hand so he could fuck you harder on his fingers. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he had you gushing over his wrist in a matter of seconds.

“Gonna fuck you now.” He settled between your thighs. All you could do was beg because his finger hadn’t been enough. “Gonna breed you full, alright, Dove?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you panted.

You would never have been able to take his cock if Ghost hadn’t dosed you with the gas. Even after the rough fingerfucking you still cried out at the stretch. But it didn’t hurt this time. You loved the way he filled you, the sensation of him sinking deeper inside.

He was too impatient at this point. Had been holding himself back for too long. The moment his cock bottomed out inside you it was like his final thread of control snapped. You were long past him, having never once stood a chance after Ghost crushed that canister.

“Jesus, Dove, you’re so tight. Feel so good on my cock,” Soap was panting against your skin as he fucked you. You were much less coherent beneath him, just a stream of sobbing and begging. You understood what Soap had said earlier: you felt like you were going to die if they didn’t fuck you. If they didn’t ruin you on their cocks. 

“I’m already close.”

You were surprised Soap had lasted this long, considering how quickly you had come on his fingers. It was definitely the toxins in your system, but you needed him to claim you. Needed to be bred full. You must have begged for it, because Soap was soothing you as he picked up the pace.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna give you what you need. Just take it like a good girl, right Dovie?”

He forced his cock as deep as he could when he came, rocking against your hips to make sure it would take. You could feel it, so hot and sticky inside you, dripping out around his cock as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before a huge shadow filled your vision. Ghost. He shoved Soap aside, taking in the sight of you beneath him.

“Johnny made a mess of you didn’t he?” A gloved hand trailed over your tear stained cheeks, through the string of drool hanging from your lips. He forced your thighs apart to see Soap’s come dripping out of your used pussy. “Look at you, pretty girl,” he teased.

“Please,” you whined. The strange panic was taking hold of you again. You were scared what would happen if Ghost didn’t fuck you. “Please, sir. I need it.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Ghost swore under his breath. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to fight it off. Poor thing.”

He tossed his gloves aside, running warm, calloused hands over your sticky, sweaty skin. “I’m bigger than Johnny,” he warned. “But something tells me you’ll like that.”

All you could do was beg. How did Ghost have so much control? It was almost like he wasn’t affected at all.

He took mercy on you, dragging his cock against your pussy to slick the length of it before pressing inside. He was slower than Soap, more careful. And even under the effects of the gas, you needed it. Fuck. He was huge.

“You’re fucking noisy,” Ghost grumbled. And then there were two fingers pushing past your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits to chase the salt and the sweat, and the relative quiet seemed to appease the lieutenant as he finally bottomed out inside you.

You had never been so full in your life, split open on the lieutenant’s cock like this. He groaned beneath the mask as he fucked you, rhythm faltering as you squeezed tight around his cock.

Even with his fingers in your mouth, you must have picked up your whining again because he leaned in to shush you. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up again. Breed you just like you need. We won’t let you go until you’re full of us.”

It should have sounded threatening, but all you could focus on was the promise that they would take care of you. That they would leave you dripping with their come.

The initial rush of the toxins had given way to a sort of timeless haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Ghost fucking you and his fingers in your mouth. It could have been hours. You just needed to be full.

“Here it comes, Little Dove,” Ghost warned you. “Better take every last drop.”

He pulled you so far onto his cock that a glance of pain managed to reach you in the haze, but it only left you craving more. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he came, filling you even more than Soap had.

“Such a good girl.” He only pulled out after he was sure he had fucked his come into you as deep as possible. And when a few drops began to spill out, he swiped them up with the fingers he had just pulled from your mouth and forced them back inside your pussy again.

“Hey, LT,” Soap grinned where he was slowly stroking his cock. “Does this mean it’s my turn again?”

[beautification-tales]

The Frump

A female version of the Nutty Professor

Patty Frump was a scientist who didn't quite fit the stereotype. Her body curved in ways that defied the lab coat she wore with pride. It was her mind that was her true asset, not her looks, though she often wished it were the other way around. Her hair was a wild mess of untamed black curls that fought against the confines of her safety goggles. Her eyes, however, were sharp, a piercing brown that could spot an inconsistency in data from a mile away. Patty had a way with numbers and formulas that made the other professors at the university green with envy.

Her office was a cluttered sanctuary of textbooks and experiments gone awry. She liked to think of it as organized chaos, but even she had to admit it was more chaos than order. The walls were plastered with sticky notes and scribbled theories that only she could decode. It was in this mess that she had made her most significant discovery, a breakthrough that could change the field of biochemistry forever. But she hadn't told anyone about it yet.

The door swung open, interrupting her train of thought. In sailed Victoria, all legs and red hair, with Drake trailing behind her like a lost puppy. Patty's heart skipped a beat. She had hoped to avoid them today.

Victoria looked around the room with feigned disgust, her delicate nose wrinkling at the scent of old coffee and chemicals. "My dear Patty," she began in her syrupy sweet voice, "I see your office hasn't changed since the last time I 'accidentally' knocked over your experiment."

Patty clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white as she forced a smile. "Victoria, Drake," she said as evenly as she could. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Victoria smirked, her glossy red lips parting to reveal perfectly straight teeth. She stepped closer, her high heels clicking against the tiles. "Oh, I just wanted to show Drake your latest... masterpiece," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she gestured to the mess of beakers and flasks on Patty's desk. "It's so quaint, really. Like watching someone try to solve a Rubik's cube with boxing gloves on."

Patty's cheeks grew hot with anger as Drake chuckled politely. She knew he didn't mean it, but the sound still felt like a slap in the face. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "It's not for show, Victoria," she replied, her voice steady. "It's for science. Maybe if you spent less time worrying about your hair and more time in the lab, you'd understand that."

“Do you like my hair? Drakey poo?” Victoria cooed, twirling a lock of her fiery mane around her finger. “He says I look like a goddess today.” Drake looked down blushing.

Patty’s eyes narrowed as she watched the two of them. The sight of Victoria’s hand on Drake’s arm made her want to scream. It was like watching someone else live out her fantasy, a twisted soap opera playing out in real life. She clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the ache in her chest.

Victoria giggled as her hand slowly slid to his crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you tell Patty how hard you are... I mean, how hard I work," she corrected with a wink.

Drake coughed, “Victoria, please behave yourself.” He looked uncomfortable under Patty's gaze.

But Victoria wasn’t done. She leaned in closer to Drake, her ample chest pressing against his arm. "Oh, darling, don't be shy. Patty's a scientist, she understands the importance of... collaboration." She batted her eyelashes at him, her voice a purr.

Patty had enough. She couldn't stand another second of Victoria's blatant flirting with Drake, especially not in her own office. The room felt like it was closing in on her as she watched the scene unfold. Her rival's hand lingered on Drake's arm, her touch possessive and taunting. Patty felt the jealousy boil in her gut like one of her forgotten chemistry experiments.

“Well I think you’ve seen enough. Thanks for stopping by.” Patty’s voice was tight, her eyes locked on Victoria’s hand as it continued to dance across Drake’s arm. She hoped the subtle hint would be enough to make them leave.

Victoria’s smile never wavered, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Before we go, Patty, I just wanted to give you a little... advice.” She stepped closer, her heels echoing in the small room. “You know, I’ve noticed you’ve been putting on a bit more weight recently. It’s such a shame. All those late nights in the lab alone. Maybe you should cut back on the midnight snacking and spend more time in the gym, like me and Drake do. After all, a healthy body is a healthy mind, right?” She patted her own flat stomach, her voice as sugary as the sweetest candy.

Drake looked upset at Victoria’s mean comment. Victoria pushed her backside into his crotch, and his eyes fluttered. Patty’s heart sank. Was he really that into her? It was as if Victoria held the sweet man hostage with her perfect body. The thought made Patty aware of her looks again. She felt the weight of her body as if it had doubled. She knew Victoria’s words were cruel, but they stung.

“Let’s go pookie. We have so much work to do tonight. Don’t we?” Victoria said, her voice sticky with sweetness that didn’t quite mask the acid underneath. She winked at Patty before sauntering out of the office, her hips swaying like a metronome set to the beat of Patty’s heartache.

Patty rolled her eyes at Victoria’s comment. She knew Victoria was just trying to get under her skin, but it still hurt. She watched them leave, feeling the weight of her body like a physical burden. As the door clicked shut behind them, she slumped into her chair, the anger and jealousy giving way to sadness. She looked around her cluttered office, feeling more alone than ever.

The silence was deafening, and Patty found herself reaching for the comfort of a chocolate bar hidden in her bottom drawer. She took a bite, the sweetness briefly numbing the pain of Victoria’s words. But as she chewed, she felt a spark of defiance. She wasn’t going to let Victoria’s spitefulness define her.

Patty’s gaze fell on the unassuming vial of experimental formula on her desk. It had been a side project, something she’d been tinkering with to combat the effects of aging. The serum was designed to regenerate cells and boost metabolism. It was a breakthrough, but she’d been too busy with her main research to test it. But what if it could give her the body Victoria flaunted so freely? The thought was tantalizing.

Her mind raced as she weighed the pros and cons. It was risky, but the potential payoff was huge. If it worked, she could show Victoria that she wasn’t just a brainiac, but a force to be reckoned with in every aspect. The idea grew in her mind, a beacon of hope in the sea of despair that was her love life.

Patty stood up, her chair scraping against the floor, and marched over to the fridge. She took out the vial of experimental serum and held it up to the light, watching the liquid swirl. She had always been meticulous in her work, but now she felt a thrill of rebellion. The formula was supposed to be used on rats, but she was tired of being treated like one.

Her heart racing, she took a deep breath and uncorked the vial. The scent was faintly metallic, but not unpleasant. She had poured her soul into this creation, and now she was going to use it for something more than just science. The liquid shimmered like liquid gold, promising a transformation.

Patty took a moment to consider the consequences. It was a bold move, one that could ruin her career if it went wrong. But she was tired of feeling like the invisible woman. With a determined look, she raised the vial to her lips and took a swig. It tasted bitter, like the disappointment of a thousand unrequited crushes. She winced but swallowed it down.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a warmth began to spread through her body, starting at her toes and moving up like a slow-burning fire. It was like a warm summer's day, wrapping around her and making her feel alive. She could feel her cells vibrating with newfound energy, and she knew the serum was working. She set the vial down and took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Patty looked down and gasped. Her clothes were baggy, hanging off her in a way they never had before. She could see the outline of her waist, the bulge of her stomach retreating like a deflating balloon. Her breasts felt lighter, her ass firming up like two scoops of ice cream that had just come out of the freezer. She reached up and squeezed, feeling the firmness and tone she had never had before. It was like watching a time-lapse of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, except it was happening to her.

Her hand went to her hair next. The wild black curls had straightened out and cascaded down her back, reaching her waist. It was as if each strand had been gently tugged and elongated, creating a sleek and shiny waterfall. She couldn't help but run her fingers through it, feeling the softness and weight she had never experienced. The transformation was incredible, and she felt like a new person.

As Patty moved to the mirror, her eyes widened in amazement. Her reflection showed muscles rippling beneath her skin, her arms no longer the soft, slightly flabby limbs she had always known. They were now toned and strong, like those of a gymnast. She flexed her biceps, watching in awe as they bulged. The same was true for her legs and abs. The serum had not only melted away her fat, but it had also sculpted her into a vision of physical perfection.

The transformation had done more than just change her body, however. It had also altered her mind, and as she stared at her new form, she felt a cold, calculating deviousness creep in. The jealousy and sadness she had felt just moments ago had been replaced by a fiery determination to show Victoria she was not someone to be underestimated. The serum had unlocked a part of her she never knew existed, a dark side that craved revenge and attention.

“I’m better than her now… hmmm I’m better than most women now.” The thought whispered seductively through Patty’s newly sharpened mind. She couldn’t help the smug smile that curled her lips as she twirled around in her suddenly too-large lab coat. The serum had done more than just give her the body of a supermodel; it had given her the confidence of a goddess.

Her next stop was the mall, where she knew she’d find clothes that would showcase her new figure. The thrill of trying on outfits she never thought she’d fit into was intoxicating. The saleswomen looked at her with a mix of awe and envy as she strutted from the dressing room, each outfit more flattering than the last. She settled on a tight, black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places and a pair of stiletto heels that made her legs look endless. Patty felt like a lioness in a field of gazelles.

The following day, with her new look and a plan in mind, Patty made her way to the university gym. It was early, and she knew Victoria and Drake would be there, sweating it out before their classes. She walked in, the sound of her heels echoing through the empty corridor, and felt a rush of excitement. The gym was like a battleground, and she was ready to conquer it.

Spotting Drake on the treadmill, she approached him with a sway in her step that was both natural and deliberate. His eyes widened as he took in her svelte figure. He looked up from his run, his sweat-drenched face lighting up with surprise. "Dr. Drake Adams?” She asked him.

"Yes? Do I...know you?" He stumbled over his words, his eyes scanning her body, trying to compose himself. “No, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Fabienne.” She said with her hand outstretched, her voice now a smoky siren's call.

Patty watched with satisfaction as Drake’s eyes grew even wider, his hand swallowed by hers. The gym was a far cry from her usual domain, but in this new form, she felt at ease. She had chosen the name Fabienne on a whim, something that sounded exotic and alluring, a name that would make heads turn.

"Fabienne," he repeated, the sound rolling off his tongue like a caress. "You're new here, aren't you?" His voice was thick with curiosity, and Patty could see the attraction in his gaze. She had to admit, the serum had worked better than she could have ever hoped.

Patty, now Fabienne, leaned against the treadmill, her body language deliberately inviting. "Just passing through," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She had no intention of letting him know her true identity. "But I've heard so much about the legendary Drake Adams. I had to come see for myself."

It was then that Victoria strutted in, her eyes narrowing when they fell on the newcomer. She was dressed in skintight workout gear that left nothing to the imagination, her red hair pulled back into a high ponytail that bobbed as she moved. She had always had a flair for the dramatic, and her arrival was no exception. Patty felt a pang of nerves, but she steeled herself. This was her moment.

“Pookie can you come spot me at the squat rack?” She didn’t even look at Patty, her eyes locked on Drake as she sailed past. Patty’s jaw clenched as she watched Victoria’s perfect body in motion. But she knew she had the upper hand now.

“Oh that sounds perfect. I needed someone to spot me for some reps too.” Fabienne said, her voice dripping with honey. She could feel the tension in the room thicken as Victoria finally looked at her. The look of shock on Victoria’s face was priceless. It was clear she had no idea who this new woman was, and Patty savored the moment.

“I’m Fabienne by the way. I’m sorry I distracted your boyfriend from working out. I’m just a really big fan.” Patty squeezed her arms into her bosom making her cleavage even more impressive. She watched Victoria’s eyes flicker with annoyance and a hint of something else. Intrigue? Jealousy? It was working.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed as she approached. “I’m sure Drake has better things to do than spot us both. Besides, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of challenge.

“Yeah I definitely would remember meeting a wo… a person like you.” Drake said, his cheeks reddening as he stumbled over his words. Fabienne just smirked. “I don’t mind I can spot for you both.” He said with a hopeful smile, eager to keep the peace.

Victoria’s eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like anger, but she forced a smile. “That’s so sweet of you, Drake. But I’m sure Fabienne here can handle her own workout.” She stepped aside and gestured to the squat rack.

“Not at this weight. I’m kind of nervous about it and having a big strong man to help me would really put me at ease.” Patty put two more plates on both sides. The weights clanked loudly. Victoria’s eyes widened. Patty had never been one to show off at the gym, but she felt a thrill at the challenge.

“There’s no way you can squat that!” Victoria said with a dismissive laugh, her voice carrying across the gym. Fabienne’s smile grew wider, the challenge accepted. She positioned herself under the barbell with the grace of a ballet dancer, her newfound strength evident in every movement. The weight she had chosen was one that even some of the strongest men at the university struggled with.

With a deep breath, Fabienne hoisted the barbell onto her shoulders, feeling the weight settle into place. Her muscles coiled like springs, ready to propel her upwards. She could feel Victoria’s eyes on her, burning with a mix of skepticism and envy. Without another word, Fabienne began her squat, her legs bending smoothly, muscles flexing with each inch she descended. The barbell didn’t waver.

Drake carefully stepped aside, his eyes glued to Fabienne as she took position under the barbell. The weight she had chosen was indeed impressive, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing her in action. As Fabienne began to squat, her body moving with a grace and power that belied her earlier clumsy persona, Victoria's laughter died in her throat. The barbell remained steady, not a single wobble, as Fabienne sank lower and lower, her thighs parallel to the ground.

Victoria's own workout was forgotten as she stared, unable to tear her gaze away. The sight of Fabienne's perfect form, the way her muscles rippled with each movement, was like watching a finely-tuned machine in motion. Patty had always been the brainy one, but now she had the body to match, and it was clear that she was enjoying every moment of Victoria's shock.

Patty felt like she could carry the heavy weight for hours, but she knew she had to make an exit that was just as dramatic as her entrance. She stayed low and grunted as if she was struggling. “A little help please.” She called out sweetly to Drake. He looked torn between helping her and staying by Victoria’s side.

Victoria’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, but she stepped aside with a forced smile, allowing Drake to come to Patty’s rescue. He moved behind her, his strong arms ready to catch the barbell if she stumbled. As he took position, Patty leaned back into him, pressing her now firm and shapely ass against his crotch. She felt him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. The fabric of her outfit was thin, and she knew he could feel every inch of her new body. She took a moment to savor the power she held over him, the way he looked at her with a mix of awe and desire.

Patty moaned as she lifted up and pushed her ass further into Drake’s crotch. His eyes widened and his grip on the barbell tightened. He didn’t know how to react, his mind racing with confusion and arousal. He had always thought Patty was attractive in a nerdy sort of way, but now, as Fabienne, she was a whole new level of temptation.

“Thank you! It was so hard!” Patty exclaimed as she placed the barbell back on the rack with a thud that echoed through the gym. She turned around and looked up at Drake with a sparkle in her eyes. “Excuse me?” Victoria’s voice was as sharp as a knife cutting through butter. Patty turned to her rival with a knowing smile. “That last rep was so very hard but so needed to keep this so tight.” She ran her hand over her now firm and toned ass.

“It looks great” Drake said with a grin that was more genuine than Patty had ever seen from him before. Victoria’s face fell, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Pookie!” She called out, trying to regain his attention, but he was already entranced by Fabienne’s performance.

“Mmm thanks for the compliment… pookie.” Patty said, her voice a low purr as she stepped away from the squat rack. She knew Victoria’s pet name for Drake was supposed to be endearing, but coming from her mouth it sounded like a taunt. She sauntered over to the water fountain, her new hips swinging with each step. She took a sip, her full lips curving into a smug smile as she watched Victoria’s eyes follow her every move.

But as she swallowed the water, something strange began to happen. The warmth from the serum that had been pulsing through her veins started to fade, leaving a cold, empty feeling in its wake. She felt her body changing, her muscles softening, her curves becoming less pronounced. Panic set in as she realized that the transformation wasn’t permanent. She had hoped to keep her new body for good, but it seemed the serum had a time limit.

Patty grabbed her bag and rushed for the door. She had to get back to her lab, to find a way to stabilize the serum's effects. But she hadn't taken more than a step before Victoria's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Fabienne, wait!" she called out, her tone a mix of desperation and fury.

“Listen bitch who do you think you are?” Victoria’s voice was a snarl, her eyes blazing with anger as she approached Patty, who was desperately trying to hold onto her new form. Patty's hair was receding slowly as her stomach gurgled as fat cells were expanding within her. Victoria flashed a look of disgust at the sound. "Sorry not feeling so good. I gotta go!" Patty ran to her car at full speed.

As she jumped into her car, the transformation back into her old self was in full swing. Her workout outfit clinging to her growing body, Patty managed to get the key into the ignition just as Victoria burst out of the gym doors. The engine roared to life, and Patty peeled out of the parking lot, her heart racing as she watched Victoria in the rearview mirror.

Patty stopped trying to hold back as she ballooned back to her old proportions. Her hair fully receded back to short and curly as her vision became blurry again. Victoria watched as Patty drove away wondering why Fabienne had the exact same car as her rival Patty.

Patty will take the serum again…

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Hello!!! congratulations on 2k you absolutely deserve it! can I please request Miguel O'Hara with promt 29."touch me there. right there" with fem reader( for some extra spice maybe it's inexperienced Miguel learning how to touch the reader) thank you so much I love all of your work🖤

Shy

College AU!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Language, smut, fingering, shy Miguel.

Thank you for requesting! It's not very good but I hope you still enjoy it <3

...

Miguel was precious.

He had a tentative touch, his rough fingertips gliding over the smooth skin of your thigh, gently playing with the hem of your pleated baby-pink skirt.

He was kneeling at the edge of your bed, his body pressed between your legs as you leaned back on your elbows, watching him stew in his timidness. 

“Miggy,” you smiled, tilting your head a bit when his eyes flew to meet yours, pausing his little exploration, “it’s okay if you wanna stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” he grunted, quickly averting his eyes and focusing on the hidden treasure between your legs, the place he’d always wanted to touch but would never allow himself to. You let out a soft whine when he carefully messaged your legs, his calloused hands sending tiny jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You sighed, reaching out to run your fingers through Miguel’s thick hair.

“What about your roommate?” He asked suddenly, fiddling with your skirt, smoothing it out for modesty as if you both weren’t in the privacy of your bedroom. “Won’t she hear us?”

“She’s out with her boyfriend,” you assured him, “she won't be back till tomorrow, I promise.” That seemed to calm his nerves if only for a moment.

Miguel was shy, something that was both surprising and endearing.

He was captain of the university baseball team, a stellar student in biochemistry, beyond gorgeous, and highly desired. He was literally the entire package—every girl's (and guy's) dream.

And he was shy. Who would’ve thought?

He admitted to you on your first date that his experience with physical intimacy was limited. He’d always been too nervous, throwing himself into sports and school to avoid unwanted attention.

But then he met you—a pretty thing that sat next to him in Poly Sci. One look at you was enough to have his heart beating faster than it ever did on the playing field. And all you’d done was smile.

And, well, the rest was history.

After allowing him a gentle exploration of your thighs, you took his hand, pushing it under your tiny skirt and over your clothed cunt. He took in a breath, hissing when his fingers connected with the damp patch on your panties. You mewled when he brushed his fingers over it.

“Like that?” he asked you, pressing his thumb down over the patch when you nodded vigorously, biting your lower lip.

“Mhm,” you mewled, “K-keep going, you’re doing so well,” Miguel grunted at the praise, slowly peeling your skirt back to let it pool over your waist, revealing your silky panties. The damp spot stood out, and he couldn’t look away from the arousal that stained the delicate cloth. 

“You’re so wet,” he marveled, gently peeling it aside to glance at your glistening cunt. Your folds were swollen—hot, slick, and inviting. He hesitated, putting a finger over your entrance and gently swiping through your folds before pulling back to observe the slick that clung to his skin. He pressed it between his fingers, watching how it stretched apart like tiny webs.

And then suddenly, he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue curling out to lap at your mess.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him curiously, his eyes fluttering as he savored the taste of you.

That was bold of him. Really bold. And you liked it.

“Mig,” you whined, making work of removing your panties, “please.” He pulled his fingers from his mouth, biting his lip when you brought your knees up, planting your feet firmly on your bed, and giving him a clear view of your pussy. 

“W-what should I do?” He stuttered, his cheeks burning in mortification but you only smiled at him, your eyes heavy as you moved to take his hand again, placing it over your sopping core.

“Touch me.” You whispered. 

It was a clumsy touch at first, his inexperienced fingers swirling around your slick till he pushed against your clit, making you gasp.

“Touch me there,” you moaned, chasing the ghost of his fingers, “right there." 

“Yeah?” Miguel’s confidence grew, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, ripping lovely little whimpers from you. 

“Mmm,” You mewled, your eyes fluttering shut as Miguel worked your clit. Your legs began to shake, and your cunt oozed more slick over his fingers. 

You could hear him take in a breath, a small whimper falling past his lips at the sight.

And then he stopped. You huffed, peering over your knees to look at him.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined, canting your hips up to get him to touch you again. He just looked at you, licked his lips, and prodded at your sensitive entrance with the tip of his middle finger. You moaned, feeling your cunt squeeze in anticipation.

“Can I…?” He questioned, and you nodded your head enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes, yes, in me, Miguel, please.” He gently traced your quivering hole before plunging his finger in, gently at first, but with your guidance, he began to pump into you eagerly, his finger completely coated in your creaminess.

“Add a-another finger,” you begged and Miguel complied, stretching your channel with his thick digits, “mm, yeah, just like that, fuck.”

“You like that?” Miguel breathed, his eyes roaming over your blissed-out face before locking on your weeping pussy, pushing his fingers deeper, “feels good?”

“Yesss,” you cried, fisting your sheets, “s’good."

He kept at it, sinking his fingers into your moist heat until your cunt clamped over them tightly, your body convulsing when your orgasm washed over you. You cried out, feeling Miguel's breath over your quivering pussy. 

“T-that was…” You were panting, chest heaving, failing to formulate words.

“Beautiful.” Miguel finished the sentiment for you, his eyes tracing over the juices coating his two fingers. He paused, pressing a quick kiss to your sensitive cunt before lapping your taste off his fingers.

“C’mere,” you dropped your legs, extending your hands so that he could fall into your arms. When he does, you feel his erection press against you through his sweatpants. “Your turn, Mig,” you reached down to cup him but he stopped you, burying his face into your neck.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbled into your skin, far too overwhelmed with how you fell apart for him, “you can have me tomorrow.”

“But my roommate will be home. Aren’t you worried about us making noise?”

“S’okay,” he said, holding you close, feeling his lashes tickle your skin, “you sound so pretty when you make noise.”

You smiled, pushing his head away from his hiding spot so that you could kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

[rainwaterapothecary]

Fields of study we know Luis has:

-Parasitology

-Microbiology

-Pharmacology

-Medical Biology

-Biochemistry (thanks @courtofparrots!)

Fields he may have:

-Entomology

-Paleoparasitology

-Genetics

-Immunology

-Virology

Things he will never have:

-A fucking break

[niranjandotus]

Top Ukrainian female Scientists, Doctors, Mathematicans, Economists, Artists, Athletes, Leaders, Astronauts, Military Leaders, etc.

The Ukrainian mathematician Maryna Viazovska who won Fields Medal — the highest honor for a mathematician.

Selected few famous Ukrainian scientists 

We decided to talk about outstanding Ukrainian women who've changed and continue to change the world of science to show that girls can do anything.

Maryna Viazovska, a mathematician

Ukrainian scientist, doctor of natural sciences. Ukrainian mathematician Maryna Viazovska, who currently works at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, received the Salem Prize 2016, which is extremely prestigious for mathematicians. The commission awarded the prize to Maryna Viazovska for her world-class discovery. Ukrainian solved a problem that scientists have been working on for more than 400 years, i.e. packing spheres in 8-dimensional space, and co-authored the one in 24-dimensional space. Previously, the problem of packing spheres was solved only for spaces with three or fewer dimensions.

Yuliia Bezvershenko, a physicist

Ukrainian scientist in theoretical physics, popularizer of science, public figure, Ph.D. of physic and mathematical sciences, Yuliia Bezvershenko is included in the list of TOP-20 Ukrainian women in STEM for 2018-2019. Yuliia deals with mathematical methods applied to the problems of dynamics of quantum systems in external fields and control of quantum systems. She is convinced and proves that one can practice theoretical physics with passion.

According to Yuliia, at one time she heard an important thing from her mentor: you can be yourself in any field! Therefore, one shouldn't be afraid of stereotypes and prejudices of others.

If you're a girl, a woman, no matter where, no matter how old you are, and your heart is in science, don't be afraid. Go there boldly. After all, nothing will stop a woman, ready to work and conduct scientific discoveries.

Mariia Bailiak, a biologist

Doctor of Biological Sciences, Associate Professor of Biochemistry and Biotechnology in Vasyl Stefanyk Precarpathian National University. Scientist Mariia Bailiak studies biochemistry and researches the influence of various plants and substances on the aging process. Mariia Bailiak's discoveries concern, for instance, the increase of stress resistance and the general condition of living organisms (and therefore, us and you, and it's good news: stress resistance doesn't hurt anyone), and anti-aging substances. Thanks to her intensive work, Mariia is in the Top 10 successful Ukrainian women scientists.

Olha Brovarets, a biophysicist

Ukrainian biophysicist, Doctor of Physic and Mathematical Sciences, winner of the Scopus Awards Ukraine in the nomination "Best team of scientists who achieved significant scientific results without Western collaborations" and the President of Ukraine Award for Young Scientists, and a leading researcher in the Department of Molecular and Quantum Biophysics Institute of Molecular Biology and Genetics of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine. Olha is the youngest doctor habilitatus in Ukraine; she became a doctor at 29. Olha is now 34 years old and she continues to study biophysics: her discoveries give an understanding of the mechanisms of cancer and many other diseases caused by mutations. It was Olha who calculated the pattern of mutations in DNA leading to cancer and many other diseases.

Nana Voitenko, a biologist

Professor, Doctor of Biological Sciences, neurobiologist, head of the department of sensory signaling of the Bohomolets Institute of Physiology of NAS of Ukraine. Nana Voitenko has been researching pain for more than 20 years. What do we know about pain? For most people on Earth, pain is something they'd like to get rid of as soon as possible if they feel it. Nana Voitenko deals with the nature of pain, as it occurs and spreads in the human's central and peripheral nervous systems. In the laboratory, Voitenko and her colleagues managed to develop an experimental treatment that affects only those cells involved in pain syndromes. Besides, Nana Voitenko is actively promoting science: she's a lecturer at the "Days of Science" initiative, was a lecturer at TED-x Kyiv in 2013, and the organizer of the "Week of Knowledge about the Brain." Science is close, and it's accessible to everyone.

Ella Libanova, an economist

Scientist in socioeconomics, demography, and labor economics, academician of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine, Doctor of Economics, Professor, Honored Economist of Ukraine. Ella Libanova is an academician-secretary of the economics department of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine and, by the way, the first and only female member of the presidium of the National Academy of Sciences for 102 years of its work. She teaches social statistics at the Faculty of Economics of the Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv; introduced a method for measuring human development at the region level, used by the State Statistics Service of Ukraine for annual calculations.

Nina Virchenko, a mathematician

Professor of the Department of Mathematical Analysis and Probability Theory, Doctor of Physic and Mathematical Sciences Nina Virchenko is one of the most famous Ukrainian mathematicians. She is the author of more than 500 scientific and methodological works, including 20 books published in Ukrainian, Russian, English, and Japanese. Nina Virchenko is recognized not only in Ukraine but also abroad; she's a member of the Australian, American, Belgian, Edinburgh, London mathematical societies. In the end, it's not surprising, because mathematics knows no boundaries and recognizes all the achievements, wherever you obtain them.

Nina Virchenko's fate wasn't easy: at 18 in 1948, she was sentenced to 10 years in the Gulag camps for preparing a "political conspiracy, revolt" and participating in the "Ukrainian-nationalist gang." Years in the camps didn't stop the future doctor from achieving her dreams. In 1964, she defended her Ph.D. and her Dr. habil. dissertation in Kyiv in 1988.

Nataliia Vynohrad, an epidemiologist

Epidemiologist, professor, doctor of medical sciences, Nataliia Vynohrad manages the Department of Epidemiology of Lviv National Medical University. She's an expert of the World Health Organization in responding to epidemic threats and the Ministry of Health of Ukraine on epidemiology, an adviser to the Ministry of Emergencies of Ukraine on anti-epidemic protection and biosafety. Agree, you can't find a more relevant profession in 2020-2021. Once an ordinary girl from a village in the Khmelnytskyi region, and now the author of 305 scientific papers, and 8 copyright certificates for inventions and patents of Ukraine, proves that nothing is impossible for a girl who knows what she wants.

Nataliia Polonska-Vasylenko, a historian

From the early 20th century until the end of her life in the 1970s, our first heroine studied the history and archeology of Ukraine, both in Ukraine and later in exile in Germany and the Czech Republic. In a historically troublesome time for Ukraine, she became one of the leading representatives of the state school in Ukrainian historiography, that is, she promoted the idea of ​​independence and continuity of the Ukrainian historical process. Nataliia Polonska-Vasylenko is the author of almost 200 scientific works on the history of Zaporizhzhia and Southern Ukraine, which remain relevant to this day.

Valentyna Radzymovska, a biologist

One of the most prominent names in our history is Valentyna Radzymovska, a professor, doctor of medical and physiological sciences, founder of the Ukrainian school of physiologists and biochemists, and a public figure. The Soviet authorities repressed Valentyna Radzymovska for her political activities and participation in the Union for the Liberation of Ukraine in the 1930s. However, it didn't prevent her from becoming the author of more than 60 works on biochemistry, pathophysiology, pediatrics, psychoneurology, physiology, and phthisiology. Like the previous scientist in our article, she left Ukraine in 1945, emigrating first to Germany and then to the United States.

Radzymovska contributed hugely to the study of tuberculosis and its treatment in children.

Nina Morozhenko, a physicist

Although the sun is the closest star to us, it still hides many fascinating mysteries. Ukrainian astronomer, helio physicist, doctor of physic and mathematical sciences, author of 56 scientific works, Nina Morozhenko devoted her entire life to studying the structure of our guide light and the processes taking place on it. After all, everything happening on the Sun affects many areas of human activity. Without studying the sun, it's impossible to understand not only what the future holds for our civilization but also what is happening in space, i.e. on the distant stars the humanity is so eager to reach. Nina Morozhenko's scientific works on solar prominences were the first in the world and gave rise to scientific research by helio physicists from many countries. The Ukrainian researcher's significant contribution to the physics of the sun once again demonstrates that physics isn't a purely "male" science.

[nazrigar]

Transformers All-Sparks: Titans of Industry and Heroes of SCIENCE

In Transformers All-Sparks, with the fall of Cobra means an new time of relative peace, and also new opportunities to change the world.

These are the folks that are the movers and shakers in the background of the AU, from robotics to energy. Also Inhumanoid references!

Titans of Industry

Isaac Sumdac: Of all the industries revolutionizing the modern age, few have made an impact that Sumdac has made with robotics. Almost every college and university grad aims to one work on Sumdac System's wonders. Everything from production lines to seamless advanced prosthetics can be attributed to Sumdac. In spite of all this, Sumdac remains dedicated to both his work and trying to be a good person first and foremost. In a world of cutthroat and self serving men, Isaac has a genuine belief in making the world a better place with his inventions. Where and how he was inspired to really push for robotics remains known only to him. Lives in Detroit.

G.B. Blackrock: The man with a hand in almost every energy revolution out there, Blackrock is the owner of Blackrock Enterprises, the company responsible for the production and construction of everything from fossil fuels to renewables in this AU. A strong belief in investing for the long term means that he's very much into investing into alternatives to fossil fuels, not just for energy, but for everything that derives from petroleum. Despite the scope of his company's wealth, he's only "just" a millionaire, for whatever he makes, he donates to causes he really believes, mostly out of a sense of guilt. For what kind of man would he be if he has all the wealth in the world without trying to make it better? Travels a lot, but his company's HQ is in Portland, Oregon.

With the only two unambiguously good business folk outta way let's get to some REAL villains!

Prometheus Black: The OTHER great industralist of Detroit, with far less scruples and morals than Sumdac. A great showman who always makes a new innovation known to the world, and spearheads much research and development in biotechnology and biochemistry. Resents Sumdac, for even he has to rely on Sumdac's work, especially in the field of agricultural sciences.

Blackthorne Shore: A minging magnate and mogul of all things digging up the soil, has an intense rivalry with Blackrock for kneecapping much of the coal trade. Ruthless, with a dominating presence. Currently trying to dig deep into the Earth to try and find… something. Information leaking out since the fall of Cobra indicates a wealth of unknowns that he must find and leave his mark before anyone else. He's not getting younger after all.

World Science Team

In a world… Where the fall of Cobra means the unleashing of unknown variables and technologies to the wider world… one team is dedicated to making sure that they not only don't fall to the wrong hands, but also make all this mad science less mad. They are… WORLD SCIENCE TEAM.

Elise Presser: The team robotics expert. Brilliant in her field of study, but prone to absent mindedness and reckless behavior. Wanted to change the world in her own way, since every robotics whizz is either working FOR Sumdac or wants to bring him down.

Dr. Herc Armstrong: A guy who seemed to be genetically engineered to be a pulp novel scientist and adventurer come to life. The great decisionmaker, outspoken and incredibly courageous.

Dr. Brian Mindbender: Dr. Mindbender was once a peaceful Orthodontist, then an experimental pain relieving device electric brainwave stimulation damaged his mind, causing him to be much more aggressive and easy angered. He joined Cobra out of the promise to "fix" his mind, but Cobra never did, so when Cobra ate itself, he surrendered peacefully, trying to get somebody to hopefully alleviate his pain. As much as modern medicine tried, they never could get him back to his pre-accident days, but at the very least he wasn't going to die, which was was the real risk of his untreated condition. He is World Science Team's resident neurologist, biologist and of course, orthodontist. Cuz someone needs to look over teeth!

Dr. Kenneth Onishi: Dr. Onishi, MASTER OF ENERGY SCIENCES also train enthusiast. Has theories and hypothesis about EVERYTHING. Big Sentai fan.

[daintyys]

baby i'm yours

fem!reader x tasm peter parker, 1.3k words, light swearing

this is a college au, basically peter and reader are dormmates at new york university. i love peter so pls give me prompts for him &lt;3

Peter was your best friend, and nothing more. That's what you kept having to tell yourself.

But, it was hard to think like that when you got a glimpse of him fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, and hair dripping. Let's face it, he was comparable to a Greek God.

You had been friends with Peter Parker since highschool, and it was a pleasant surprise to find out he had gotten into NYU just like you did. It was automatically settled, you would be roommates.

While you were studying creative writing, Peter was diving into the field of biochemistry. You couldn't seem to comprehend why he was so interested in science until a year ago, when he confessed to you that he was Spider-Man. You had to admit, it wasn't too surprising. He had that Spider-Man air about him.

Mornings in your dorm were nice, especially since you and Peter had breakfast together. You could always tell when he had been out in the city the night before, because he was ravenous.

"Mphm, mowe eggths?" He mumbled through a stuffed mouth. "If you're so hungry you should make them yourself." You giggled to him. He rolled his eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes. You stood up, wanting to start getting ready for your day. Peter's classes started before yours did, so right after breakfast he would always leave, but today was different.

You could feel his eyes on your body as you filled your glass up with water. A tank top and sweatpants was normal apparel for you, so it was hard to tell what was different about now. "Are you checking me out, Peter?" You threw your head back around to look at him, and his heart visibly stopped. "No! No, no. I would never do that, ew." He choked out. You cocked your eyebrow at him, and his eyes widened. "Oh you know I didn't mean it like that, you're cute, Y/N." His face was about as red as the apple he was biting into. You laughed as you retreated into your bedroom.

When you were finished getting ready, you left your bedroom to find Peter still sitting at the table. "You're still here?" You asked, sitting back down next to him. "Well yea, I just didn't wanna leave without saying a real goodbye to you." He wasn't making eye contact, which only happened when he was nervous. "Oh, well you're not planning on dying today, right?" You asked, laughing slightly. He chuckled back. "Yea, no. Just feel weird leaving without seeing you again." You admired his face, and watched a flush up his neck.

"Peter, you like me, don't you?" You were joking, he should have known that, but his mind was obviously not registering the way you had spoken when he blurted out: "Is it that obvious??". You froze, processing the words that had just left his mouth.

Peter slapped his hands over his mouth, not realizing you had been messing with him. "Oh fuck." Was all he mumbled as he stood up from the table, grabbing his backpack.

"No, Peter, wait!" You said, standing as well. You reached for his hand, and he quickly pulled away from you, a traumatized expression plastered across his face. "I am so, so, incredibly sorry, Y/N." He spluttered as he pulled his shoes on. As soon as he had finished speaking, he was rushing out of your dorm, slamming the door behind him.

You sat back down at the table, for fear you would faint if you continued standing. Your face was burning, and you were having trouble breathing. "Oh my God..." you mumbled, nervously twisting your hair. Standing up again, you noticed Peter's lunchbox still sitting on the kitchen counter. That gave you an idea.

You had liked him for almost 3 years. Even in highschool, where he was continuously bullied, he always managed to put a smile on your face. He was a "loser", sure, but that never stopped you from hanging out with him. He was a great guy. You thought of the time you skipped school with him all because he wanted to teach you how to skateboard.

On that day, you had sworn he was going to kiss you. He held your body close to his, trying to keep the two of you balanced on his skateboard. You had felt his heart beating rapidly, and wondered if he was as flustered as you were.

But none of that mattered now, because your relationship with Peter could be ruined after his little slip-up.

You grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, and began to furiously write. If speaking face-to-face with Peter would be too much for him, a letter would be the second best option.

Dear Peter,

Definitely didn't expect this morning to consist of you confessing your feelings to me, but that's alright, because I feel the same way. I have since we were 16.

I've tried for a while to deny it, but now that you've come clean, it's only fair for me to do the same. I love you, Peter. You are my favorite person, and I don't want this morning to change anything with us. If it does change, then I hope it's for the better, not the worse.

That's all, I don't want to scare you away.

Love,

Y/N

Your hands were shaking as you folded the letter in half and tucked it into Peter's lunchbox. Now all that was left was to get it to him.

You walked as fast as you could, not caring that people were yelling obscenities when you shoved past them. You had to get to Peter before his class started. Looking at your phone, you saw you had 5 minutes left. Shit.

You began to run, desperate to arrive in time. You threw the double doors to the building open, and ran in the direction of Peter's chemical analysis class. People were staring, because you definitely did not look like you were ready to divide cells in a lab.

You reached the classroom, and stopped to catch your breath. You took out your phone again. 2 minutes until the bell rang. You grinned as you pushed the door open slowly. Then you saw him.

He was sitting at a desk, staring at the board with glazed-over eyes. He was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen, and you giggled as you pictured a future with him. You walked over to him, taking deep breaths.

"Ahem..." You cleared your throat as you placed his lunch on his desk. Peter jumped, and went ghost white as he made eye contact with you. "Y/N, what are you-" He began. "Shut up. Don't say anything until you look in your lunchbox." You said as you turned on your heel and left. Peter was confused. Very confused.

As soon as you were out of the classroom, he ripped open his lunchbox, grabbing the sheet of paper you had left inside. He unfolded the letter with shaking hands, and read it carefully. His organs were in his throat. "I love you," He whispered to himself. "Oh my God."

Peter stuffed the letter into his pocket and shot up from his desk, and then he was darting out of the classroom with his things, needing to find you as soon as possible.

You were walking back to your dorm, smiling to yourself, when your racing thoughts were interrupted with a yell. "Y/N! Y/N!" You stopped instantly, and turned around to see Peter barreling towards you. You laughed as he engulfed you in his arms, kissing you all over your forehead.

"Couldn't wait until later, hm?" You giggled, looking up into his eyes. Peter smiled, and shrugged. "I could have, but I didn't want to." He said as he put his arm around your shoulder. AYou walked home together, fingers interlaced, and dreamed of your future together.

[moongirlwidow]

File: Volkov, Vespera Anetka

Alias: Winter Widow

Status: classified

File Last updated: July 4, 2023 AD

———

Age: 15

Class: 16ABX

Graduation Year: 2023

Origin: Romania

Birthday: August 11, 2008

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Handlers: Krista Udova(62431), Milunka Dulovna(90218), Melina Vostokov(Iron Maiden)

Trainers: Winter Soldier(Barnes, James B.), Taskmaster(Dreykov, Antonia)

Track: Field Agent(undercover; weapons specialist)

Appearance

Eye color: gray

Hair color: black

Skin: white; pale

Build: tall, lean, bony

Height: 5’9.79”

Weight: 101.235lbs

Notable markings:

birthmark;right thigh back, oblong Burn scar; left ankle, inside, 4”x 3”x 9”

Specialty Training

- Figure Skating

Began: 2 years

Training time: 6hrs every other day, 17hrs every Thursday and Monday

On track to the Winter Olympic Games. Reliably lands quads, possible pairing with Hydra 20180 for pair skating.

- Deadlift

Began: 6 years

Training time: 1hr daily

Will reach national record by 2028

Current capacity: 480lbs

- Combat Mimicry

Began: 7 years

Can mimic opponent’s fighting style closely. Taught by Taskmaster

- Biochemistry

- Codebreaking

- linguistics

Languages

Spoken: Russian, English, Norwegian, Welsh, Polish, Romanian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Qubecois, Italian, Latin, Ancient Greek, Greek, Old English, Cantonese, Japanese, German, Hebrew, Sanskrit, Korean, Swedish, Hindi, Punjabi, Pennsylvania Dutch and Scots Gaelic

Written: braille, Russian, English, Norwegian, Welsh, Polish, Romanian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Qubecois, Italian, Latin, Ancient Greek, Greek, Old English, Cantonese, Japanese, German, Hebrew, Sanskrit, Korean, Swedish, Hindi, Punjabi, Pennsylvania Dutch and Scots Gaelic

Read: braille, Russian, English, Norwegian, Welsh, Polish, Romanian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Qubecois, Italian, Latin, Ancient Greek, Greek, Old English, Cantonese, Japanese, German, Hebrew, Sanskrit, Korean, Swedish, Hindi, Punjabi, Pennsylvania Dutch and Scots Gaelic

Other: American Sign Language, Russian Sign Language, International Sign, Morse code

Status

[section redacted]

Role

- replace the Iron Maiden following graduation

- should Taskmaster Program default, replace Winter Soldier and Taskmaster

- restore Red Academy-HYDRA control over XXXXXXXXX

Miscellaneous

— favored by Lt.Borisov

- Untouchable Status — RE; Grad Mission

- Enforced Separations — not allowed with peers without supervision, initiated 2015

- extremely exemplary when undercover in Queer Rebellion Groups, Lesbian Covers reccomended

Graduation Mission Assign.

Seduce XXXX XXXXXXX as debutant Gabrielle La Aubrey(CF61789), knock out with C19JL1990 formula(oral component), identify and procure XXXXXX XXXXX through whirlwind romance focusing on subject’s romantic beliefs. XXXXXXX has taste for young virgin women, will have just inherited full title/shares; foolish party persona crafted. Deep Cover in France; 6 weeks, fake family emergency and return with items. (Summary)

Part II