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sweetimpurity · 24 days ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 21!! I can't believe there's only ten days left until halloween! eek! I'm so excited to write some Christmas miggy after this. too soon? wc: 1.4k ੈ✩‧₊˚

“I’m in here!” He calls out from deep in the lab. The place practically pitch black but his eyes still pick up everything in the room. His sensitive vision not dampened in the slightest. Removing a few things off his desk before you come in, hiding them in a bin under the workbench. Then going back to mixing the chemicals and compounds he’s been working on. A bright pink glowing substance in vials and pipettes. Eyes flicking up to see you walk in.

“There you are…” You sigh, walking deeper into where he’s sitting. Seeing him there working on something new as always. “Whatcha doin?” You hum, pulling out a seat next to him and sitting down, looking over his gloved hands as he’s working.

“Just workin’...” He says with a small smile your way. Not knowing exactly why you came in here. Sometimes you just do that. When you have a break from missions or even on your days off. Just to be near him, he thinks. Not that you consciously make the choice, you just subconsciously search for him all the time. “How did this morning go?” He asks softly, turning dials and working on whatever substance he’s making.

“It was good… got the Vulture variant back to his dimension… no one was hurt.” You nod. Leaning your elbows on the table and watching him work. Your eyes flicking over the vials and liquids around the desk.

“That’s good…” He hums, standing up from his seat, sneaking a kiss on your cheek before he walks over to the boxes and dials on the wall. You have no idea what he’s doing but he’s on a mission of some kind. Pumping something into something else and it bubbles up in the glass container. Sparkling pink and neon.

It’s quiet and relaxing here. Especially after the loud, fast mission you endured this morning. Just watching him work. Like nothing could disturb this moment. You sigh, basking in the quiet and calm, tapping your fingernails on the metal workbench. Before hissss!

A small splash of the bubbling liquid spurts from the canister, sprinkling on the desk and glowing. One drop hitting your hand, making you flinch. It’s not too hot actually. The boiling point must be pretty low, but it tingles. Miguel’s eyes blow wide, turning to you once he hears you gasp.

“Shit- come here” He rushes over, clearly it’s serious. Holding onto your arms and ushering you over to the sink. Shoving your hands under the water and the cold liquid chills your fingers. His chest pressed to your back, dunking your hands under the water, holding your smaller hands in his bigger ones and rubbing his thumbs over the backs.

“Sorry- I should’ve had you put gloves on if you were gonna be in here” He sighs, shaking his head. Squeezing your hands gently and checking the backs to see if there’s a welt or burn. But there’s nothing. That makes it worse actually though.

“It doesn’t hurt… what was that?” You ask, stepping back and letting him squeeze your hands in a towel to dry them. His eyes are constantly looking down at your skin, checking the backs of your hands, the fronts. He doesn’t answer your question though.

“Uh h-how do you feel?” He looks up at you. Looking in your eyes. Almost like he’s charting down your every move in a log in his mind. “I feel fine…”

He discards the towel, holding your arms gently and looking up and down them, running his thumbs over the joints of your elbows. Looking at the veins in your arms. Specifically the arm where your hand got splashed. “Shit.” He huffs, his eyes catching the faint pink vein marks on your arms as whatever that was creeps up your arm, getting into your system.

“What? What is it?” You ask again. Not liking that he’s not answering.

“Here just sit down, you’re gonna be okay, baby…” He says. Holding your arm gently and leading you over to where you were sitting before. And he turns off all the equipment he was using. The bubbling stops, the pressure gauges going back to zero. “It’s not gonna hurt you…” He says, trying to calm you down. Cursing himself for being careless and letting this happen. He taps on his watch, the doors of the lab closing and locking. Adding to your unease.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, a sheepish look on his face. Sitting down in front of you and holding your hands. Your eyes narrow at him. Not answering this time. “What’s gonna happen to me?” You glare at him.

“You just- um… here.” He sighs, letting go of your hands, messing with the small vial of pink solution. Pipetting a few drops out and dropping one on the back of his hand too. A little fizzle follows as the solution immediately absorbs into his skin just like it did on you. “Miguel!” You exclaim, eyes widening.

“It’s okay… I suppose now is a good time to test it anyway…”

“Test what?”

“Your Christmas present… birthday present, I don’t know… I made it for you. It was supposed to be a surprise so… surprise?” He says, grabbing your hands again. That guilty look on his face again. Looking at you through his big lenses and hoping you don’t get angry.

His eyes seem to pierce into you. Like straight heat. Or maybe you’re just noticing how hot you’ve become. Like your spidersuit is made of fire clinging to your skin. Your face feels flushed and warm. Adjusting yourself on the lab stool and gasping, your clit buzzing like it’s awoken when it rubs over the edge of the metal. So bad that you feel the need to pull your thighs together, wincing at the shock of pleasure. But it’s not enough. Looking up at him now. Knowing exactly what he’s done. An aphrodisiac of sorts? Your horny little geek.

…

“Ma-ahhHHnghhh!!” You scream, your moans echoing off the lab walls, back arching off the table and climaxing for what must be the tenth time. Miguel panting and groaning over you, pumping into you with all his strength. Coming so hard he’s seeing stars, seeing white, talons threatening to pierce your flushed hot skin. It’s been hours now. Who knew all this could come from one drop of the stuff? But it’s like there’s a waterfall between your legs, as if his cock just vibrates inside you, like every stroke makes you come.

And he’s so sensitive. Every time he’s sheathed inside you, he just wants to burst. Needs it. His tip hitting all your sweet spots, cum just leaking and weeping out of him freely as he drills into you. As many times as he comes, he just doesn’t go soft. If anything, he just gets harder, the urge to come getting stronger every time. Red blooming over his flushed hot face, crimson eyes flashing and fluttering back. Losing his mind in your cunt.

“Please more! Please please!” You sob, growling with need and whimpering high and sweet when he flips you over, slipping back inside to hit you from another angle. And you come immediately when he presses to the hilt, gushing and dribbling all around him as he pulls out only to pound back in. His hand going to your hair, pulling it back, humping you into the edge of the workbench and pressing his face into your neck, groaning and moaning right by your ear. A pleasant mix of English and Spanish naturally leaving his mumbling mouth. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Not until this serum wears off, not until you both fuck it all out.

“Fuck baby!” He growls, thrusting into you especially hard a few times, your ass bouncing, legs trembling, hardly able to stay on your toes, bent over the table and taking him. “Take it so good baby- fuck- jesus…” He pants, out of breath. Both your minds are completely gone. Not even aware of what you’re doing, how loud you’re being, how long it’s been. Only aware of how good it feels and how badly you need more.

…

Finally after hours of nothing but sex and lust, you’re laying on the lab floor. This is where you ended up after all. Hitting that last orgasm that finally left you satisfied. Finally coming down and laying on top of him, tucked into the side of his lab coat to stay warm. His arms around you, his eyes locked on the ceiling and all of what just happened fresh in his mind. The best part, you remember every second, every word, every climax.

“It’s too concentrated…” He mutters. Causing you to look up at him, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ll have to dilute it…”

“You think?”

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

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nothingbutnowhere · 3 months ago

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Paging Doctor Riley!

18+

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

~3.9k words

Tags: 18+ Explicit, medical pelvic examination roleplay, 'virgin' roleplay, reader is mentioned to masturbate with toys frequently, mentioned reader has received previous gynecological care, glove kink, praise kink, fingering, lube, squirting, cunnilingus, tit play, fingers in mouth, unprotected PiV, light manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, reader referred to as 'good girl' with no other gendered language, post sex banter, if I've missed anything that needs mentioning please let me know

Prologue 1 | Prologue 2

It's just a routine exam, you think to yourself, you've done this before, it's going to be fine.

That doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you sit and wait in the exam room. You're wearing the typical smock with a sheet over your legs for cover, but it's not enough, your nipples are definitely visible through the thin fabric. The cool air of the room peaks goosebumps over your legs and arms.

Two firm knocks rap against the door and you flinch, head snapping towards it.

It opens.

Oh no.

"Good afternoon miss."

He's hot.

"Hi," you squeak.

He's tall, muscles bulging from his white lab coat, carrying himself with perfect posture as he walks over to you.

"Doctor Riley," he says, holding his hand out for you to shake.

His eyes meet yours, deep brown, intense and focused over the blue surgical mask that covers the lower part of his face.

You introduce yourself, thankfully moving on autopilot, as you reach out and shake his hand with as much poise as you can muster. His hand is large, strong and warm, a contrast to your shaky, clammy one. The watch on his wrist probably costs more than your annual paycheck.

Before you're unpinned from his gaze, he looks you over, gaze neutral. He turns to the desk, but it doesn't do much to calm your nerves.

"You're here for a routine exam," he says as he logs in to the computer.

It's not even framed as a question, god this man might kill you. His voice is deep and measured, and clinical.

"Yes."

You try not to stare at his hands that minify the mouse and keyboard as he clicks around, typing a few things.

"Are you currently sexually active?"

The question settles a sense of dread in your tummy. You know it's routine but you hate admitting it, especially now to your hot doctor who now knows you can't get laid. You send a small plea to the universe to quell your embarrassment.

"No. Never."

He doesn't so much as blink, continuing to stare at the screen while he clicks boxes.

"Do you masturbate?"

Well you've never been asked this before. Is it even an appropriate question?? After a second too long you answer.

"Yes."

"How frequently?"

If it's possible to die from embarrassment, well, you'll find out.

"Um, depends."

"Roughly how many times per week?"

There's a joke there, but not one you're brave enough to make. The number is very high and you feel the need to lie, because that kinda makes your lack of sexual activity more embarrassing. But lying to a medical professional seems like a bad idea.

"Five to seven."

He doesn't miss a beat.

"Any specific concerns you have today?"

Yeah embarrassing myself in front of you, you think, though it's too late for that.

"No."

He stands and walks away for a few moments to wash his hands.

This is great, everything is fine. Think of anything else than what's about to happen, literally anything else, just don't think about-

Your efforts fail terribly, as all you can picture, all you can feel is his hands on you, thinking about him thinking about your masturbating. Which he's definitely not, because this is his job! People tell him that all day, surely there's no way he dwells on it.

You shift on the bed, the cold sweat of anxiety is only making you more miserable. The subtle rub of your thighs sends some... extra sensations up your spine. Oh god, are you already aroused? You hope not. The lube will help disguise it. It's fine, probably. Stimulation is often met with arousal, a concession you can make while ignoring the fact that he hasn't touched you yet.

He returns and you watch as he pulls on the blue nitrile gloves. They fit tightly, requiring an extra tug to situate, and he lets the material snap.

Is he fucking with you? He has to be fucking with you.

"Lay back, feet up on the bed apart, and move to the edge."

His instructions definitely aren't though. They're firm but not unkind and you don't have to think to follow them. The cool air of the room is uncomfortable on your exposed skin and your knees try and awkwardly close.

"Legs open," he reminds.

They do.

The blanket on your legs prevents you from seeing him as he sits down in front of you, but you're completely exposed to him now.

This whole thing is starting to feel like a fever dream. A dreamy doctor about to feel you up, good lord, you need to get a grip.

"Take deep breaths. Try to relax, it'll make this much easier," he says, voice softer now.

Fuck. You were never good at hiding your emotions, he probably thinks you're just anxious. Honestly that's a better scenario than your current predicament of embarrassed arousal. One, then two deep breaths later, you're mildly more relaxed.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yeah." Sure why not, we don't have all day.

"Good."

You swallow audibly.

"Light touch on the inner thigh, then the vulva. External then internal examination."

You've done this before, it's fine.

His gloved fingers make gentle contact with your skin, but the small twitch in your leg only pushes into him further. After a moment his they slide down and brush against your pussy.

You stare pointedly up at the ceiling, forcing your diaphragm into slow breaths.

His warm fingers parting your labia have no business being this gentle. The tip of one large finger strokes slow between the inner and outer, on one side then the other. You had no idea you could be so sensitive, and have to grind your teeth to prevent a shiver of pleasure from making your legs shake.

"Healthy tissue, very good," he hums after a few moments.

Your throat is too dry to respond.

He doesn't move on though, continues to feel and stroke and press, avoiding your clit. None of this feels very clinical, but then again your brain is scrambled eggs. The gentle touch feels so good, no one except for you has done this, and even you haven't gone this slow, usually opting to go straight for the kill with fingers or a vibrator on your clit. It's an examination but it feels like... More than that somehow. Adoration.

How bad would it be to just relax into it? It's not a bad thing to enjoy touch, even though this isn't the most opportune time for it.

"That's good, just relax."

His voice is calm and reassuring. See? Not so bad.

He spreads your lips again and runs one finger through your slit. You can feel the tell tale slip confirming your arousal, knocking some sense back into you because you're at the doctor's office! What the hell are you doing, enjoying your pelvic exam, getting off from your doctor who is none the wiser. Well, not anymore. You hope he doesn't say anything.

"Bit of arousal at stimulation. Very common."

You're mortified, frozen to the bed.

"I'm sorry," you say, the only thing you can think to say.

"Nothing to worry about."

"Ok," your voice comes out as a whisper.

You want to believe him. Unfortunately, neither your embarrassment of being caught enjoying a clinical exam nor his reassurance does anything to change the fact that your body is thrumming with warm pleasure.

His hand rests on your lower belly. You expect the internal examination to start now but his thumb strokes the skin above your clit, far too gentle to be doing much examining. One, two passes then his thumb runs over your clit.

A shiver runs though your body uninhibited, and you have to cover your mouth to keep from crying out. The intoxicating ball of pleasure sits heavy in your stomach.

"Very sensitive," he says, though maintaining his clinical composure his voice is definitely lower than it has been

His thumb then presses down right above your clit and pulls the hood back ever so gently.

You're suspended, not breathing, ready for his touch and the ever tightening band in your tummy to snap.

But he gently lowers it back down and removes his hand.

"Perfect. Moving to the internal exam now."

His voice sounds mildly strained.

Very good. Perfect.

It wouldn't matter how he sounded when he called you that. Well, technically he was calling your vulva that... Did that make it better or worse?

A cap clicking open and closed recalls your attention.

Internal exam, right. You can handle that. Definitely. No problem. You haven't been thinking about his fingers inside you the whole time, not at all.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yes."

You sound strained too.

"Touch on the inner thigh."

His fingers are slightly wet with lube but not cold. Once again he slides his fingers down, leaving a little wet trail in their wake. He swipes fingers over your opening, though you probably don't need the lube at all.

"Two fingers. Let me know if it's uncomfortable."

You feel them start to press against you, he's slow and gentle like before. The initial press just past your lips is fine. But the stretch is too much.

"Wait"

He stops and pulls away immediately.

"It's, um, too much, maybe just... Start with one?"

It's painfully embarrassing to voice. Sure the doctor can stay clinical since this is his job but the innuendo- if you can even call it that, you're literally asking for one finger in your pussy- probably isn't lost on him.

"Of course."

He begins again.

"Touch," he says, hand resting on your thigh for a second longer before moving down.

One finger slides in easier. He's still slow and gentle which only makes it feel more intimate. He slides out, maybe brushing a little more firmly against your g spot than necessary, but you're already swollen around his fingers, it's probably just inevitable.

Two fingers start to push in a little easier. You're taking deep steady breaths, focusing on being relaxed and not clamping down to give more stimulation on your g-spot, grind, and come, like your brain screams to do.

"That's it, nice and easy."

The reassurances makes it worse and you make the mistake of picturing what's happening- two of his thick, gloved fingers glistening with lube and your slick sliding into your wet, swollen pussy, expensive looking watch on his wrist. At the same time he presses past your g-spot which makes you clench involuntarily. Fuck.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," your voice cracks.

To your horror, this time the embarrassment makes the arousal more intense, more urgent. Your brain knows your hand has been shown, it seems to think there's no point in hiding.

"Response to stimulation is normal."

Oh you want to respond alright. You feel every millimeter, during the few moments it takes for his fingers to be fully inserted. It's a pleasant fullness, his fingers reach deeper and are wider than your own. The glove tries to be the barrier that keeps this from being intimate and sexual but it's only backfiring, arousal hot and pulsing inside you.

"Going to place a hand on your lower abdomen and press."

"Ok."

You try to relax, focus on the pleasantness rather than the arousal, but it's difficult with his hand pressing down, moving soft and gentle, glove crinkling and rasping quietly over your skin. After several presses his hand rests fully on your lower stomach, thumb brushing lower and lower, over the sensitive skin above your clit once again. Your brain is buzzing, body scorching, daring him to do it.

His thumb rolls gently over your clit.

You finally allow yourself to moan. If he's going to provide stimulation, you're going to give him a response.

"Fuck," you say, breathless.

He stills but doesn't pull away.

"Want me to stop?"

"No"

His fingers curl into your g-spot, and he finally starts to give proper, firm circles over your clit.

"Gonna- oh my god-" you moan.

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, electricity sparking through your body but it's not nearly enough, barely enough to take the edge off.

"One," he says, but before you can process the implication, his fingers start moving inside you and yeah that's it. Stroking instead of just pressing into your g-spot, other hand continuing to circle on your clit.

After a few moments there's pressure building up behind the tingling of the incoming orgasm. It's coming at you fast, you know it's going to hit hard. You've only heard of this sensation before but it's too late to stop it, too late to try and say anything because by the time you're opening your mouth all you can do is cry out as your toes curl, body releasing the pressure and you feel liquid running down your ass. You've fucking squirted on your doctor, and he's dragging you through the rest of your orgasm with his fingers on your clit. He pulls away when you squirm from overstimulation.

"Good, two," you hear him breathe, voice no longer clinical and professional and the low growl makes your thighs twitch besides his head.

You gasp as you feel his face pressing into your thigh- and to your twisted amalgamation of horror and arousal- it's wet, slicking your thighs with what can only be your own squirt as his lips press slow, messy kisses down, closer and closer to your pussy. Your eyes are closed but you hear him slip off the stool he was sitting on, and feel as he guides your legs over his shoulders, low enough that he's probably kneeling on the ground in front of you. He sighs when you relax and let the solid weight of them rest comfortably. He kneels up and your hips lift up off the bed, partially folding you over. One strong arm wraps around your leg snugly, hand gripping your skin like you'll slip away if he doesn't.

You can surmise what's coming as his lips trail further and further down but could never actually anticipate the feeling of his mouth on you, warm and wet and consuming. Following the same methodology as his fingers, his tongue and lips slowly explore every centimeter of skin, dragging through, over, and between, taking your lips into his mouth and sucking. You moan, eyes squeezing shut, hands gripping your smock for grounding as you resist the urge to push into his mouth. You almost lose it when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over it before pressing his lips to it over and over like a kiss, opening and suckling. You're dazed, obviously never having experienced this before but vaguely think this'll probably be the best you'll ever get.

His tongue slides down, starts to circle your opening, dipping in briefly where your slick and his spit has gathered.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he says, almost to himself, mouth close to your pussy so you feel the vibrations.

"Knew you would the second I saw you. Sweet thing, all for the taking on my exam table."

His words are filthy. You begin to moan but are interrupted by his tongue sliding in.

You gasp, eyes flying open, hands instinctively reaching down, only to meet the blanket resting over his head. There's only a half second hesitation about pulling it off before you do. You're not prepared to see his face, or rather his eyes flicking up to meet yours, tongue buried inside you. The focus and intensity are so different than earlier, maybe a little softer now that he's feeling you, holding you, and pleasuring you, not examining and observing.

His hand clenches tighter into your thigh, pushes his face further into you with a groan, eyes fluttering. You can't help but slide your hand through his hair and encourage him to stay right there, keep doing whatever the fuck he's doing with his tongue that's making you lose control, pant, and grind into his face. His hand reaches up your body to squeeze and play with your tits, smearing slick across your chest.

That's one way to get a breast examination.

It takes several minutes for your orgasm to build this time but he doesn't seem to care, working you steadily and thoroughly. And soon enough you're there, body hot with molten pleasure, you're going to come again,

"Close-!"

But there's an ache that wants more. All caution has been long since thrown to the wind and it doesn't even occur to you to be embarrassed to beg.

"Please, Doctor Riley, want you- fuck."

"Want me to what?"

"Want you to fuck me, please."

His hand slides down back to your clit and rubs firmly until your back is arching and you're nearly suffocating him with your thighs as pleasure rushes though you uninhibited.

"Good fucking girl, three."

Finally you drop back, breathing hard, still tingly, vision unfocused. He lifts your legs off of his shoulders and gently settles them back. You look up at him, now unmasked. Some scaring on his face and definitely handsome, to you anyway.

He doesn't put on a show to undress. All you can do is watch as he simply stands, and pulls his cock out.

Wow. He's perfect. Big, which makes sense considering his stature. If the look in his eyes with his face dripping with your slick is any indication you're about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

"Gonna make this nice and comfortable for you yeah?" he says, uncapping and squeezing a generous amount of lube out.

"Ever used anything more than fingers?"

"Yeah, I have toys" you squeak out.

His lips twitch in what you think is an uncharacteristic smile, though it's not friendly. The gleam in his eyes should scare you.

"Specifically?"

"...vibrators and dildos."

"Good girl."

Something absolutely glows inside of you when he says those two words, and you're shameless preening in it. And continues to glow as his hand strokes his cock for a few moments. It could have been an hour with the way you're enraptured by his gloved hand, studying how exactly he strokes, twists his wrist and thumbs over and around the head.

"Hold your legs back behind your knees."

It takes a moment, but you get your jellied legs to comply. Once you're spread he steps closer, hand squeezing your ass as he rubs his cock up and down your slit. You shudder from the overstimulation on your clit and are ready to beg again but he has no intention of toying with you. His thumb presses down on his cock until the head catches on your opening. He stares down at where you meet while beginning to push in. But his eyes catch yours after a moment, he's trying to concentrate on your face but part of his brain is focused elsewhere. You try an experimental squeeze around his cock and he groans, eyes closing for a moment, control slipping. That's probably dangerous but honestly you want him to eat you alive- not that he hasn't already eaten you.

A few more shallow strokes and he's pressed fully into you, not even moving but his thickness alone is able to press against all the good spots inside you.

"Please- I'm ready," you whine, trying and failing to grind against him with your ass so tightly squeezed in his hands.

The first drag of his hips backwards makes you both moan. He starts to roll his hips deep and slow, watching you intensely, but you can barely keep your eyes open on account of them rolling back in your head. Some unknown spot deep inside you pulses, and throbs, and aches as his cock hits it again and again.

"That's it sweetheart, like it nice and deep, yeah?"

You nod enthusiastically, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

There's some sort of sounds in the room which you can't place until his hands come off of your ass, and he's shoving two fingers in your open, panting mouth.

You exclaim, or try to, but quickly give into sucking shamelessly and laving your tongue over and between his fingers. The taste of lube isn't the best, but ignorable in favor of remnants of your own slick, his cock.

"Don't mind if you bite," he growls.

He pulls out all the way, then his hips snap forward quickly and firmly, and your teeth scrape his fingers. His cock twitches and you feel precum add to the lube and slick inside you. You're jostled around for a second, his knee coming up on the bed to give him better leverage. And then he really starts to fuck you, pounding you into the mattress, head kissing your cervix at this angle, so fucking deep.

"Good girl, fuck, you must play with a lot of toys, takin' it this good."

You agree nodding your head, mumbling unsuccessfully around his fingers, wishing you could tell him how good this was, so good to just lie back and not have to deal with fucking yourself. Since you can't, you squeeze your cunt as tight as you can around him, causing him to fall on one elbow beside you with a snarled fuck. You're so close now, face directly above yours. It's far too intimate, especially starting into his captivating eyes, pupils blown wide, framed by pretty blonde eyelashes. He slides his fingers out of your mouth and reaches down to play with your clit. You throw your head back as another orgasm threatens to overtake you, but his hand pulls away.

"Not yet"

Your head tilts back and you pout. He's staring at your lips, eyelids heavy.

"Kiss me."

Both of your arms come up, one around his shoulders and the other hand cradles the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips.

It's messy and it's good. Doesn't seem to matter that you have no experience when you're both too fucked out to coordinate anyway. Tongues against lips and teeth, it doesn't matter when he tastes good, kinda like you, but mostly his own.

His hand slips down to your clit again, soft pinches and rolls taking you to the precipice.

"C'mon, come on my cock, give me four, be a good girl"

"Oh- close- oh, fuck!," you gasp, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip to keep from screaming.

You inadvertently pull his hair, which you think is what causes his orgasm, slowing his thrusts, twitching cock spilling into you. The sensation is novel and your pleasure boils over. Your legs spasm, your core clenches, pleasure hits you in waves, whiting out your vision.

...

You come to with Simon nearly crushing you with his weight.

"Si you're squishing me."

"Hm?" he grunts, half asleep already.

"Roll over."

He does roll, but takes you with him and holds you tight, preventing you from extracting yourself from the bed.

"You good?" he asks.

"Yeah," you mumble into his chest.

"Lemme hold you a bit."

"It's sweaty."

"Doctor patient privileges."

"That is not what that means."

His arms only settle heavier on you, now ungloved hand rubbing your back gently.

"Shh, relax with me for a second."

Your breaths sync after a while, the slow exhales calming your hammering heart.

"Did I do good?" he asks quietly.

"Of course you did," you say, snuggling into his chest, "Five stars. Excellent beside manner. Very thorough."

"Only 'cause I had such a lovely patient. Won't be getting any referrals from me though."

"S'fine with me. Love you."

Simon gives you a long kiss on the forehead as if to say, I love you too.

...

More Simon

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

A/N: Thanks for reading the first smut I've ever posted!

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #my writing #there will probably be a ghoap x reader sequel because I can't help myself #virginity is a social construct just fyi #posting this then running away lol #simon riley #simon riley x reader #paging doctor riley

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theother-victoria · 2 months ago

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LOVE IS CONCOCTED FROM ESTERS AND KETONES- CH.01: AVENTURINE

SYNOPSIS: he never expected to find home again.

CHARACTERS: aventurine

TAGS: bittersweet veering more towards bitterness I’m sorry guys, menace aventurine, 2.1k+ wc,

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @flowery-jazz, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore , @lxkeeeee , @mewnekoice-mecha , @nariism

NOTES: aven fans are allergic to happiness case in point: me

special thanks to @milksnake-tea for doing the math on how much a perfume bottle costs in the hsr-verse and @akutasoda and @phantovia for letting me use their ocs aika and yeri respectively! additionally thank u to my pookies @tragedy-of-commons, @akutasoda (once again), @https-sourlimes, and @kazuhaiku for proofreading this chapter!

The first of the new customers comes in on a slow Tuesday afternoon.

It’s just you and your two assistants in the shop. They’re restocking some of the bottles on the shelves and you’re in the lab as per usual, this time reformulating an old scent that didn’t sell well on its maiden voyage. You distantly hear the front door chime ring and the voices of your two assistants welcoming them.

You stare down at the flask in front of you on the table and the array of raw materials scattered around it. Eh, might as well get up and help out. You haven’t made any progress in the past half hour either.

With a sigh, you get up and unlock the door separating your lab from the store. Your usual greeting spills from your lips like you’re on autopilot.

“Welcome, dear customer. How can I be of assistance today?”

You trip over your words a little bit at the end as you take this customer’s appearance. On first impression, it’s a bit gaudy- like a peacock trying to impress. An expensive leather coat with fur like he’s trying to flaunt his wealth and a spade cutout right in the middle of the chest like he’s trying to draw attention to it. His face is also obscured by the brim of his hat and his pink sunglasses so you sadly can’t get a glimpse of his appearance. You haven’t seen him before- you’d remember a getup like that for sure.

“Nothing in particular. Just doing some window shopping.”

His voice is rich and syrupy like honey and it pulls you in. You don’t miss how your two shop assistants are eyeing him and you send them a look over your shoulder. They giggle under their breaths and scurry away to busy themselves around the shop.

He picks up a black tester bottle and sprays it a couple times around his pulse points before walking around the store again. It’s pricey, but it’s a popular perfume among young men, especially those that like to party from your observations. Not surprising, considering how creamy, spicy, and decadent it smells. It’s a crowd-pleaser.

One of your assistants, Aika, passes by with a box of perfume bottles that you received in an earlier shipment. She pauses and gives you a mischievous look.

“He’s hot,” she whispers as he passes by. “Looks like he’s interested in you too. I see him eyeing you up. Don’t pretend like you haven’t either.”

You merely glare at her, which she laughs at. He gives you a knowing look and a wink, further proving her point. You pointedly ignore it.

He seems happy with how the scent reacts with his skin chemistry and the dry down because he walks back to grab a bottle before setting it down by the register. You pause what you’re doing in the meantime to ring him up.

He hands his card over without a second thought. Black card, you note as you swipe it. It’s got some weight to it too. You catch a glimpse of the name on the card and the IPC logo in the corner before handing it back to him. Aventurine, of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department. Now you have a name and affiliation to go with the face as well.

When you hand his card back, his gloved fingers ghost over your hand for a second longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand seeps through the thin leather and you have to force yourself to ignore it and bid him goodbye.

Another one of your shop assistants watches him go as well.

“You know, he didn’t seem like he particularly loved that perfume. Maybe he bought it just to get close to you?”

“Yeri…”

“Just saying. Don’t act like you didn’t notice it too.”

After that, he doesn’t leave you alone. You quickly learn that he’s an IPC executive, which takes you by surprise with how he’s attached to your hip at any given time. He’s still busy with work, but he spends a lot more time at your store than you’d expect- at least a visit or two every week. He always leaves with something as well. At this rate he’s going to have a bottle of every perfume in your store…

“He’s more like a… how do I put it? He’s more like a… clingy stray cat that you took pity on one day and it wouldn’t leave your side after that,” you complained to your shop assistants one day during lunch. Aika snorts and steals a bite of your food.

“No harm in playing along with him. He’s rich, after all. Savor this opportunity.”

He also likes to flirt with you and hog up all your free time. He’ll walk in with a loud declaration of “(Name)! I’m back!” and wrap his arms around your shoulders and waist the moment he sees you. Over time, you’ve gotten used to it and you’ll do business as usual with a grown man clinging to you like some house cat.

(Your shop assistants still tease you relentlessly though.)

In return, you turn him into your unofficial guinea pig to test your upcoming perfumes on. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he seems to take pride in it.

You gently grab his wrist and spray something onto the exposed skin. He doesn’t resist- just lets you do your thing.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

“My friend, you already know what I’m going to say. Everything and anything you create is bound to sell out. When it comes to storytelling, your nose is unmatched.”

“Give me real constructive criticism, Aventurine. Stop trying to butter me up.”

“I’m being honest here!”

With the frequency of his visits, the distance between you quickly closes. He insists you refer to him by his name without any prefixes. You don’t particularly care what he refers to you by, but you’ll frequently catch him on the phone talking about “his beloved perfumer”.

One day when there are no customers in the shop, he comes in. There’s no loud proclamation of your name or the now-familiar sound of expensive leather shoes against the floor as he searches for you. He looks a little different as well. His hat is gone, as well as his pink sunglasses, letting you see his face unobstructed for the first time.

His eyes. They’re the first thing to draw you in. They’re a hypnotizing shade of magenta and blue that you’ve never seen before.

What pretty eyes, you think. But you avert your gaze in case he catches you staring. Strangely enough, he doesn’t meet your gaze. He takes a particular interest in the view outside the window even though he’s seen it a million times already.

You hand him a faceted golden bottle. The turquoise liquid inside swirls slightly as he examines it. A thin turquoise band runs around the circumference of the bottle and he hesitates. It looks a little familiar, for some reason…

“This is a new scent I created recently. Smell it and tell me your thoughts.”

He sprays it on his wrists before tentatively taking a whiff. Instantly, the scent of bergamot and the sea hits him.

No, the smell of home hits him. There’s a faint citrusy smell that smells vaguely familiar to a hardy fruit that bloomed on the scraggly trees during the spring and the earthy scent of sand hits him like a punch to the gut. He can still recall the sensation of the sand stinging his eyes from the harsh solar winds and how despite his sister’s best efforts, he could never fully get it out of his clothes and hair. It stuck to him like a second skin.

Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that he could’ve filled a bottle with sand and brought it with him so he’d always carry part of home, especially on those lonely nights.

Then comes the rain.

He can hear the sound of the rain hitting the rooftop of the tent he called home as a child where he’d celebrate a few lonesome birthdays, followed by the stench of iron and rot and the sickening squelch of his footsteps in the drenched sand as he flees, leaving everything he’s known and loved behind.

For some reason, he can taste the saltiness of the sea as well. But on a planet as desolate and barren as Sigonia-IV, there are no bodies of water. Is it the ocean or rather his tears instead?

He rubs his wrists together to make the top notes and memories dissipate faster. They fade to something richer and deeper, more opulent and decadent. More fitting for who he is now. The spicy scent of expensive alcohol is both familiar and sickening.

There’s a new syrupy sweet scent that emerges that meshes so well with the alcohol he almost doesn’t realize it’s there until he takes a second whiff. His eyes widen and he almost chokes on it.

Honey. It’s the sugary sweet scent of honey.

Even now, he still can’t escape his past.

He picks up on a resinous scent and if the honey made him feel nauseous, then the scent of amber makes him sick to his stomach. All for the Amber Lord. That damned phrase reminds him that he still isn’t free, imprisoned by gold and jewels instead of chains and shackles now.

The decadence and richness of the top notes have died down and it now smells warm and intimate, like a hug from a loved one. He thinks of his sister and the long nights he’d spent cuddled into her side to stave off the extreme cold. He can’t remember what her voice sounds like anymore, or what she smelled like, or how she even looked. But he remembers how safe, how loved, he felt in her embrace.

He hates every aspect of the scent. It’s too close for comfort. (Did you enlist the help of a Memokeeper for this?)

But he loves it at the same time. He’s heard the stories of how your perfumes are stories in their own rights, shifting from one scent to another to evoke foreign yet familiar emotions in the hearts of their wearers. He’s enjoyed all your perfumes so far, but hasn’t found something that really resonated with him up until now. Clearly, he’s underestimated your nose.

You fidget a bit, a little unnerved at his silence. He always has something to say. For him to be silent is so uncharacteristic.

“So… how is it?”

He continues to stay silent. His chest feels tight and his left hand has subconsciously clenched into a fist behind his back.

“I’ll take your entire stock.”

The words make it past the lump in his throat and he forces a smile.

You freeze.

“Sorry?”

“You heard me. I’ll take your entire stock.”

“... It’s still under development though…”

“I don’t care. Just don’t release it to the general public. How much per bottle?”

“The same as the rest of them. 112,000 credits for the full size.”

To your surprise, he hands his card over without a second word. After a moment of hesitation, you swipe it. The little ding tells you the transaction went through. Most, if not all, of your customers are wealthy. They have to be in order to afford your perfumes. But the top one percent of the one percent… they really are in a different realm.

“You do subscription services, right?”

Dumbfounded, all you can do is nod. He lets out a satisfied hum.

“Perfect. Sign me up for it.”

Sensing your shock, Yeri graciously takes over for you while you head to the back to process what just happened. This scent was just you messing around! If you did end up selling it, it would’ve only been in limited quantities because of how… unique it smells. Not as unique compared to some of your wares, but niche enough to separate it from your more palatable scents.

Yet here you are with a man that has already paid for and demanded several bottles… Better get to work then.

Your shop assistants have already finished processing the transaction and Aventurine is standing outside the store now. He gingerly lifts the bottle out from its packaging and sprays it a few times onto his pulse points. He knows he’s being greedy by hoarding all the bottles and not letting anyone else have it, but he doesn’t care. The delusional side of him thinks there’s no way this fragrance WASN’T crafted for him specifically. The notes, the bottle design, everything.

Fabric holds scent longer than skin does. His mind drifts to the old rag that was his father’s, safely stored away.

He won’t be able to return home for a long while. But this perfume must be what it’ll feel like when that day finally comes and his time runs out.

PERFUME NOTES (yes I am making a perfume for every character):

TOP NOTES: bergamot, petrichor, sand, sea notes

MIDDLE NOTES: tonka bean, sandalwood, vanilla, rum, bourbon, whiskey

BASE NOTES: honey, amber, skin musk, iso e super

INSPIRATION: Versace Eros, Initio Psychedelic Love, and Initio Side Effect

enjoyed this? the taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

#—stellaronhvnters.#victoria.writes #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine #hsr fanfic #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr fluff #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you

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ryan-sometimes · 4 months ago

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One thing I find really cute about being a scientist working in scientific academia is that there’s always A Person for any issue. Shit, we need a molecular biology test to help us solve this issue in our lab! Omg yay there’s a Pack Of Molecular Biologists in the next building who love to do all the Molecular Biology Tests! Shit we can’t figure out why our argon glove box isn’t working! Lucky we have some Mechanical Engineers a couple floors down who love to Fix Things! There’s always a person to refer to who is super excited to do the thing your lab needs

#science #stem #scientist

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fiercism · 2 months ago

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insomniac

-pairing: Shoko x fem!reader

- wordcount: 1.7k

- summary: Shoko exhausts herself in the process of helping others, but at least she has someone waiting for her at home after each grueling shift.

- warnings: body worship (g), hickies, oral(g), fingering (g), kissing

Shoko removed her bloodied gloves, watching Satoru exit with yet another one of his severely injured students. She sighed, bringing her fingers to the upper bridge of her nose, massaging it lightly as the headache of fatigue entered. With a small sniffle to clear her sinuses, she checked her watch.

3:16 am.

Sighing, she picked up her jacket, draping it over her shoulders as she reached for the cigarette box on her table, taking one and lighting it as she brought it to her lips, letting it sit in the corner of her mouth. She soon began walking out the back of her lab, ending up on a back trail, lightly lit by small lanterns as the leaves fell in the darkness, the wind of the Autumn night still lively. Taking the trail for about six minutes, she ended up at a small cottage like home, lights inside dimly lit as she took out her keys and unlocked the door.

“I’m home”, she said, her voice very relaxed, yet a hint of exhaustion creeping through her undertones. She looked down as she removed her heels, a small frown on her face before her eyes peeled back up, watching you round the corner, feet gliding across the floor as you met her at the entrance, embracing her in a long hug, feeling her form relax as she slumped forward into your warm embrace.

“You haven’t smoked in a while. You must be quite stressed,” you said, moving back from the hug as you scanned her face, examining her exhausted features, bringing your hand to her cheek and stroking her smooth face lightly.

“This job is going to be the death of you…”

Shoko only stared at you, a longing in her eyes as she watched you walk away, following behind you as she stubbed out her cigarette, scurrying behind you. You grabbed her hand from behind as you led her to your shared room, guiding her to the bed as you sat her down in the plush, cool covers. You watch as she kicks off her slippers, lying comfortably in the bed as she reaches for your hand, pulling you on top of her. Looking at her tired eyes, yet another emotion stirred within them as you stroked her silky, bronze hair.

“You’re always taking care of someone, let me take care of you tonight…”

Leaning forward, you placed a long, smooth kiss on her plump lips, a small groan leaning her throat as you lightly bit her bottom lip, begging for access into her begging mouth. Her lips parted open, letting your tongue slide in, tasting every crevice of your girlfriends mouth as your hands wandered down her body, gliding over her breasts and settling on the curves of her hips, Before long, you released her from the kiss, her chests rising and falling heavily as she caught her breath. The usually laid back and nonchalant woman now had a flustered look, her cheeks a light pink and she bit her lip, watching your form above her play with her clothes. “Why don’t you go to work in a regular shirt, not this turtle neck,” You said, moving the collar down to reveal her pale skin littered in purple marks, “Do you not want everyone to see who you belong to?”

You gave her a fake frown as you leaned down once more, licking a small area of skin on her neck that was unmarked, before sucking the skin between your lips, marking her beautiful skin some more as you released the skin with a pop, a small string of your saliva connecting your lips to her skin. You could feel her legs clenching together, arousal shooting through her body as you worked her sensitive spots.

“Be patient, Pretty Girl.”

You gently fiddled with the bottom hem of her shirt, bunching the fabric in your hands before scrunching it up, moving over her breasts concealed by her neutral tone bra. You’ve always loved her tits, perfect size to cup with your hands. Reaching behind her back, you unclasped her bra, removing the annoying article and watching as her beautiful breasts sprung from their confines. Shoko quickly tries to cover herself, shying away from your gaze, but you stop her hands, moving them back to where they were as you let your hands sink into the soft skin of her breasts, her sensitive, tan nipples trailing through the gap of your fingers. Your mouth watered as you leaned down, enveloping one of her sensitive buds in your mouth, the wetness and heat encapsulating her breast, causing her to moan lightly. It was like music to your ears, especially since you knew you were the only one to ever hear a noise like that leave her lips, let alone have her squirming under you, begging for more.

Your tongue danced around the sensitive bundle, suckling lightly while alternating between her supple mounds. After finally detaching, you examined your work, her nipples left wet and swollen, small red marks littering the skin. You’d felt deprived of her skin, the tired woman coming home later and later as the week passed. You felt as if you needed to show her just how much you missed her, hands trailing over her hips before unbuttoning the singular metal button on the front of her pants, working the zipper and soon showing her lace panties, the ones you’d bought her last week. A smirk made its way onto your face as your finger hooked around the hem of the work pants.

“Up, sweetie,” You said, watching her back arch off the bed, making it easier to drag those tiring work pants off. She had such a nice physique to you, the best you’d ever laid your eyes upon as you stared at her body. She usually hid her curves, straying from form fitting clothing when she worked. You placed gentle kisses in a line down her body, starting from the cavern of her chest, all the way down to the top of her panties.

“Ngh~...Please…”

Shoko begged, her toes curling lightly as you looked up at her pitiful face.

“Please, what?” You questioned, a small smirk on your lips as you teased.

“Stop teasing, ____”, she said, her voice quivering as she spoke. You had no choice but to oblige, sliding those lacy panties down her long, smooth legs. You grabbed her legs, angling them up as one of your fingers inched down, gliding over her wet folds. You could feel her shiver under your touch as you played with her folds, fingers gliding down the slit and slightly parting her folds, exposing her entrance to the cold hair of the room. Sliding down, her legs perched on top of your shoulders as you became eye level with her wet, aching pussy; begging to be touched. You decided to give the tired girl a break from your teasing, your mouth latching onto her begging pussy making her toes curl lightly. She tasted like heaven as your tongue danced past her folds, prodding at her entrance. Your lips then latched onto her sensitive clit, stimulating the small bundle of nerves. A plethora of moans left her throat as her legs tightened their grip around your head. You lapped at her chubby folds like a dog, cupping your hands under her ass to bring her closer to your face.

Her nails were practically ripping holes into the sheets, her iron-like grip tightening with each thrust of the wet muscle playing in her entrance.

“Pl-Please..,” she begged, her eyes closing as her thick thighs clenched around your head. You could feel her pussy clench around your tongue as you feverishly thrusted in and out of her plush walls. You slowly released her from your lips, moving up on the bed and pulling her onto her side, letting your knee sneak in between her legs. You both locked eyes as your head ducked between the crevice of her breasts, taking one of her plump nipples into your mouth again, sucking lightly as your fingers slithered down between her squelching folds, inserting two long fingers inside of her. Feeling her clench around your fingers enticed a guttural moan from your throat as you fingers thrusted in and out of her pussy, her lower body shaking with anticipation as her bangs stuck to her forehead, head shaking frantically. She was a squirming mess under your touch, whining each time you violently sucked the skin of her breasts. Your fingers became frantic, thrusts becoming violent as you reached deeper past the spongy walls, curling your fingers upwards.

Popping your lips off her supple breast, you stared up at her sweaty face, “C’mon, baby…Cum on my fingers~,” you say, voice deep as you licked at her skin, leaving a small trail of kisses over her chest as you pumped your fingers in and out of her wet pussy.

“Ngh- I’m-- I- I’m so close! ~ Please_,” she begged, her toes curling as she clenched heavily around your digits, a knot in her stomach begging to untie as she gripped onto your arm. She could feel the orgasm work its way through her body, heat spreading across her limbs as your fingers worked their way through her pussy, hitting all the right spots. As those strong fingers curled against her g-spot, she could feel herself getting closer and closer to her final orgasmic relief. Shoko covered her face with her arm as she bit her lip until it became red, the knot deep in her stomach breaking as she flooded her girlfriends' fingers with her juices. You could only look down at your hand, drenched in her essence as you brought the digits to your mouth, licking the liquid gold off your fingers as you looked at her exhausted face.

“So…delicious..”, you moaned as you removed your fingers from your mouth and finally leaned up. “C’mon, let's get in the shower, and get ready for bed.”

You scooted off the bed, holding her hand as you brought her with you into the shared bathroom, speaking before you shut the door with the two of you inside,

“You wanna continue in here? ~”

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . Hi guys! First WLW fic here, I hope yall like it :< I really love shoko, so this was so fun to make....Feel free to send requests of who you want me to write about next, or any scenarios you have in mind! :D ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

#shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #shoko x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #female reader #wlw #jjk fandom

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prinnamon · 5 months ago

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based on this post. he's barney in the middle lol ^_^

let me know if you want transparent versions for discord stickers and whatnot!

image descriptions in alt text + more detailed description of the main image below the cut.

[Start ID. Six digital halfbody drawings of characters from Freeman's Mind-style Half-Life machinima series against a green and white striped background. Each one has a caption written in white text on a black box.

Gordon Freeman of Freeman's Mind is depicted as a white man with a light brown mullet pulled into a ponytail and a goatee, square-framed eyeglasses, and an eyepatch. He wears a Mark IV HEV suit of orange, black, and silver power armor. He smiles and his fingers are interlocked in front of him. His caption reads, in all caps, "kill everyone".

Chell of the Chell's Mind series by CyhAnide is depicted as a brown woman with a couple of moles on her arms and face with long curly hair pulled into a low ponytail. She wears an orange jumpsuit with rolled-up sleeves. She cups her face in her hands and grins. Her caption reads, in all caps, "make them pay".

Ryan Sullivan of Mind of Ryan is depicted as a white man with a messy light brown mullet and pronounced under-eye lines. He wears a light blue shirt, a teal and dark blue striped tie, and a white lab coat. He has a weary expression and his fingers are tented in front of him. His caption reads, in all caps, "you won't outrun it".

Vincent Stark of Stark's Mind is depicted as a light-skinned Asian-American man with short black hair, a goatee, and glasses who looks a bit like a better-groomed Gordon Freeman. He is also wearing a Mark IV HEV suit. He smiles calmly with his hands folded in front of him. His caption reads, in all caps, "I wish I could stop".

Barney Calhoun of Barney's Mind is depicted as a brown man with long black curly hair and partial heterochromia. He wears a Black Mesa Security Force uniform consisting of a blue button down, black tie, black armored vest with a Black Mesa emblem on the chest, and black and silver helmet. Barney also wears aviation goggles atop his helmet. He smiles warmly with his hands together in front of him. His caption reads, in all lowercase, "im barney from black mesa lol".

TJ Arlen from Arlen's Mind is depicted as a white man with very short hair and five o'clock shadow. He is wearing a Black Mesa Security Force uniform with a blue beret that has a white Black Mesa emblem instead of a helmet. He also sports a headset with a mic and black fingerless gloves. His caption reads, in all caps, "the blood is on your hands". End ID.]

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cleatechlaboratory · 1 year ago

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Original Sources: https://laboratoryquipment.blogspot.com/2023/11/exploring-convenience-of-portable-glove.html

#Portable Glove Box #Laboratory Glove Box #Lab Glove Box

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marasmadness · 8 months ago

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hi! i saw you were opening your requests so here i am :) i was wondering if you write an emily/reader smut with reader having a hand/glove kink and getting turned on everytime emily puts on gloves at a crime scene

feel free to throw any other kinks you want in there, we love a dom emily in this house :)

no pressure or anything, have a good time ^^

Indulged Imprints || Emily Prentiss x reader

CW: Emily Prentiss x reader, sexual tension in places where there shouldn’t be, god this woman is so hot, smut, oral sex, choking, hand/glove kink,

Climbing out of the passenger seat of one of the team’s black SUVs, you followed Emily into the crime lab. She had already assigned the team to different locations—the station,the victim’s house, etc.—opting to keep you by her side. You walked a few steps behind her, standing with your hands stiff in front of you. It was a common sign of your nerves around your girlfriend whenever you saw her acting as unit chief. The intimidating woman introducing herself as SSA Prentiss to one of the lab examiners with a stern glance appeared as an imposter to the same woman that you spent weekends watching rom-coms with.

The examiner pointed Emily down the hallway toward the lab with the correct evidence she was looking for and turned to leave, leaving her to do her job in peace. She had fallen into a laser focus ever since you got on the jet. Over at the sink, she slid stacks of silver rings off her fingers, leaving them on the steel counter, and she scrubbed her hands and slid on a pair of gloves.

As soon as you were both ready, you nudged open the door, holding it open as Emily slid past you and headed straight for the boxes of processed evidence. She delicately removed the contaminated household items first, then removed the folders of pictures and laid them out across the table. She had become incredibly efficient in her methods over the years, taking in the entire crime in a matter of minutes and then going back to catch crucial things that others often missed.

You went straight to work on your job, removing all the collected papers that had been considered possibly relevant for their handwriting and, one by one, sliding them under a lens. SInking into your own work, you had tuned out Emily’s soft shuffling around the room and shallow breathing until she cleared her throat. You looked up to find her still crouched over a pile of images, but she curled her finger, silently calling you over.

“There’s something off. The guy’s got a glock, a quick weapon, efficient, no need to get up close and personal with his victims… So why take the risk to go all the way up to them?” She paused, adjusting your shoulders and taking a few steps away to put herself in the unsub’s shoes. “And wrap their hands around her throat, if they already had a simple way to get in and out.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Emily brought her hands up to your neck while her eyes ran down your body. You tried to focus on the fact that she was simply trying to do her job and not the way her flexed lines in her hands stretched through her gloves as her fingers curled around your throat. Emily caught onto your horrifically obvious flushed face and momentarily forgot the task at hand. A smirk spread across her face, and she slid her hands higher up, brushing her knuckle across the skin just below your ear. You remained still, trying to remain calm, but your shaky breaths gave you away, clear to Emily, who was inches away from you. You could see the center of her eye dilating at your flustered state before she reluctantly dropped her hands. As she returned them to her side, they brushed ever so slightly against the curve of your breast and down the side of your waist that you could’ve brushed it off as a mistake if you didn’t know your girlfriend as well as you did.

She popped her lips, quickly breaking the thick silence between you, and hurriedly began to clean up the lab space. “Come on, we’re down for the day. Let’s head back to the hotel.” She was quick to rush out of there, and you blindly followed. Stopping at the sink, she shoved her rings in her purse. You were going to comment, as it was out of character for her. She wore her rings everywhere, no matter what kind of rush she was usually in.

Climbing back into the car, Emily naturally took the driver’s seat. She was unable to keep her hands off you for the duration of the three-minute car ride back to the hotel. Her hand rested dangerously high on your inner thigh, rubbing circles into your skin through the fabric of your pants. It became clear then why she had been so impatient and left her rings off her fingers on the way out; she was desperate to have them inside you.

You crashed into the thin hotel wall by Emily’s hand before the door even clicked shut behind the two of you. Her hands ravenously roamed your body. She tugged you forward by the loop of your belt, slipping her hands underneath the hem of your pants. Her hot breath blew across your skin as she pressed desperate kisses along your collarbones. You could feel a devilish smirk form on her lips against the skin of her neck as she expertly maneuvered her fingers, undoing your buttons. She slid your clothes down to your ankles, dragging her hands down your thighs as she did so. You kicked them onto the floor while undoing her blouse.

She always wore her necklaces tucked under the collar of her blouse, and your eyes trailed down the chains to where pendants had nestled themselves into her breasts, cupped in a lacy black bra. One strap rested off her shoulder and you had no trouble tugging it the rest of the way off. You pressed the tip of your tongue to your teeth, admiringly taking in your beautiful girlfriend as she slowly led you to the bed before pressing you back onto the mattress.

Climbing over you, she straddled her legs, pinning your hips between her thighs. She swiped her tongue with a smile, wetting her lips, and combed her hair out of her face with her hands. Placing her hands on either side of your head, she tipped her chin, attaching her lips to your neck. She was painting your neck a mix of colors, from the harsh desperation of her lips to the light nip of her teeth, with marks that would only reveal themselves tomorrow morning. When your mouths fused together, you were met with a faint, familiar taste of coffee and fruit.

Emily took her hands, attentively brushing or groping every space of exposed skin on her prolonged dip down to between your legs. She arched her back, the curve of her spine appearing to you from behind her head of mused raven black hair. Grasping your ankles, she lifted them over her shoulders, crossing them behind her neck. Her nails scraped down the sides of your back. She unexpectedly grabbed at the flesh of your ass, causing your hips to jolt upwards. She has landed you right where she wanted, and with a soft tip of her head, she ravenously dove into your cunt. All the exhaustion from the day's work floated from her body and mind as she lapped at your arousal like she was starving. Her fingers drew crescents into your hips, and, in succession, the soft whimpers falling from your mouth were fuel that went straight to her head. Spurred on, she flattened her tongue against your clit, overwhelming the bundle of nerves that displayed itself as a breathy moan. Your hands flew up off the mattress, tangling themselves in Emily’s hair.

With her mouth expertly enough to pleasure you on its own, Emily’s hands were free to slide up toward your neck. Your legs quivered ever so slightly, but were still, of course, something Emily quickly picked up on. She vigorously continued her actions, drawing you nearer to the edge.

Distracted by the rising feeling of an upcoming orgasm, you were dazedly surprised when Emily’s fingers lightly drummed against your neck before she closed them around. Naturally, you attempted to inhale with a gasp, only to be met with constriction by her flexed hands. Your head rushed with warmth, and your body grew tense. Small stars dotted your vision, and the smell of Emily’s perfume became suddenly prominent as bliss engulfed your body.

With a deep breath, your vision and clear head started to return, and you felt the carefully positioned weight of Emily on your torso. Looking down, you brushed a fallen piece of hair off her forehead, revealing her glossy and softly gazing eyes. Her pupils were dilated as she looked up at you with a slightly silly smile on her lips. Rolling off you, she crawled up to the top of the bed, pressing herself into you as you both breathed steadily slower into the silence.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #fypシ #fyp

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fuckmycrane · 1 year ago

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Testing — Dr. Jonathan Crane.

— CW: 18+, smut, noncon! (DNI if uncomfortable 😴), fisting, slight spit kink, Crane using medical language? Rubber gloves! | word count: 2k!

— a/n: I don't know how to tag! This came to me before bed the other day. SUPER GRATEFUL AND FOREVER IN LOVE WITH @pictureinme for beta-reading this! I love you so much pookie 💌.

A shiver runs down your spine as Dr. Crane's camera on the tripod flashes red— an ominous light that warns your humiliation is being recorded.

Your legs are stretched out wide on the cold metal table, chained to the bars on each side, strains reserved for patients in the consulting room who refuse to be sedated. Reserved to those who will involve to be a problem to Dr. Crane, your boss. Hands above your head, your fingers curl around the wire he used to tie your wrists together. Too tight, it felt like a punishment. The blood circulation was slow, causing them to feel numb.

He had to improvise, the sedative he administrated in your morning coffee was a mild dose, enough to keep you knocked out for at least 40 minutes— enough for him to drag you to his private laboratory, undress you, and tie you up.

Reaching inside the pocket of his pristine lab coat, Crane brings the voice recorder to his mouth, clicking the thick button and twitching in excitement at the mute sound of the tapes rolling inside the device.

“October 14th, 2001,” He speaks, looking at you from behind his thin glasses. “Test subject is awake now, they appear to be responding normally. I will be monitoring them for the next few hours to ensure continued stability. Will report any significant changes in behavior immediately.”

Clicking the button again, Crane returns the recorder inside his pocket, approaching you with cautious steps— similar to a predator looming over its helpless, little prey; even his eyes hold that harpy gaze. Cold and relentless, your body shivers in fear. The same fear he thrives on, the same fear that makes his blood circulate and sends an excited beat to his heart.

Your mouth opens but before a sound comes out he raises her hand in a shutting motion, to which you surprisingly obey in response. “Don’t even try,” he warns you, reaching for a tiny box on the tall desk next to your bed. “This experiment is happening either way.”

Sliding the blue rubber glove over his right hand, Jonathan stretches it, letting it snap with a loud sound. His eyes never leave your face which is a remarkable show of professionalism, taking into consideration your lack of clothes, and the awkward, obscene position. Standing next to you, his index finger traces from your knee to your hip, relishing the way your body squirms uncomfortably. Grasping the recorder once more, he turns it on before leaving it next to the box where he retrieved the gloves from, returning his attention to you.

“Subject internally rejects light physical stimuli,” He repeats the action, going from knee to thigh over and over, the rubber sliding smoothly from the cold sweat of fear that grants your body a soft glow. “Their body appears to be affected by the fear and anxiety. Mild sweating, constant twitching.”

Crane’s finger ventures to the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin. An eternity passes until he finally comes in contact with your mound, pressing it softly with his fingerpad. The uneasy pressure makes you choke a sob, a sob that isn’t acknowledged by the doctor. Lower, he begins to circle your clit in slow, methodical circles. The sensation makes your legs tense, instinctively try to close them but are not allowed to do so, thanks to the restraints. Crane watches you with an unamused expression, noticing how lost you are in distress to notice how his leg twitches slightly at the sight of such a pretty face denying the pleasure. The pressure over your clit increases but the pace stays the same, giving you a similar feeling of breathlessness and dizziness. He knows what he is doing, how couldn’t he? Such a brilliant mind, such skilled fingers… he knows.

Closing your eyes shut, your brain shortcuts for seconds, trying to reject the pleasure that Jonathan’s ministrations provide— you shouldn’t, succumbing isn’t an option. Tears silently trickle down your flushed cheeks, embarrassed by your own natural body response. The slick is slowly but surely building up in between your legs, and it’s just a matter of time for Crane to notice it. You wish you could scream, curse him, damn him, and send his soul to hell— but it’s difficult to even breathe. The confusing mix of fear and innate pleasure clouds your common sense.

“Patient is responding correctly to clitoral stimulation,” His deep voice snatches you from your internal battle, snapping your eyes open and finding those same blue eyes that you grew accustomed to, watching you as if you were a mere lab rat. “But, they appear to be having a moral conflict.”

Perhaps you are.

When he stops his circling over your clit, a sigh of relief escapes from your lips, but you are disgusted by the sting of disappointment that your body sends you; The ease doesn’t last long, as his finger slides between your folds, gathering the slick and bringing back to your clit briefly.

He inserts a finger, unhurriedly. He has all the time in the world— it is not like you are leaving anyway. Jonathan breaks the eye contact and focuses on opening you up carefully; It’s easy to read he is not doing it because he is scared of hurting you, it is because causing you pain in this state will lower his experiments. The pace of his digit mimics the one he created before, methodical. Everything about him appears premeditated. Curling his index finger, it takes him around eight seconds to locate your G-spot, rubbing it with expertise and ease; “It appears to be a considerable amount of lubrication,” He continues speaking to the recorder, speeding up his movements slightly. “Corporeal response is positive, the experiment is going as planned”

Planned. That word strikes a cord inside your hazy mind. So he already intended to do this.

A second finger joins, spreading you, but not in a painful way. In fact, the remorse falters, as the pleasure begins to build, strong and hopeless to avoid. Repeating the same curling motion, Jonathan’s hand twitches when he hears the first moan of the evening. It’s weak, but something like that will never go unnoticed.

“Patient is showing vocal responses after two fingers, vaginal stimulation is going as expected.”

A wave of heat starts to crumble the last bits of your will, he knows what he is doing— the bastard fucking knows. A new set of tears swell up in your eyes, falling without you doing much to stop them. A meek sob that breaks into a choked moan catches the doctor’s attention, his rosy lips curling into a wicked smile. This is probably the first time you had ever seen Crane smile. Your cunt and his fingers work together to create an obscene wet sound, smearing it all over your labia and printing it with fire and fear in your mind.

A third finger prods outside your aching hole, threatening; When it joins the party, that same stretch comes back— once again not uncomfortable.

“Three fingers have been inserted now,” Crane says, his voice faltering at the end of the sentence. “The patient shows no signs of pain nor discomfort”

Faster, his fingers are going faster now. Three fingers plugging in and out of you without any hint of mercy or consideration. You dare to bend your neck, a sick need to watch his hand invading you, only to find his hand soaked. Involuntary, your cunt clench around his fingers, something that also was noticed.

Expecting him to talk again to the voice recorder, only to encounter a quicker pace, your back arches, the cold laboratory bed suddenly too cold for the boiling temperature of your body. A cloud of guilty pleasure numbs your brain— unable to register the fourth finger peeking at your pussy.

The intrusion hurts, the current lubrication not enough to save the painful stretch. Jonathan notices this, an expert in reading body language; “In response to the fourth finger, the patient has experienced slight pain. After a quick thought, I have come to the conclusion that the rubber gloves inhibit the vagina lubrication to be sufficient.”

Removing your fingers from your cunt, you watch with half-lidded eyes how he practically rips the glove off his hand, almost frustrated. Returning his now bare fingers to your poor hole, a mewl escapes your lips when he returns three fingers, humming at the clear difference of sensations.

His fingers, his skin is a whole different sensation than the damn rubber. His pinky finger sneaks in again, but your pussy clenches, making the intrusion painful again. Crane huffs in annoyance, bending over and hovering over your crotch, gathering saliva in his mouth and spitting right in your pussy. The action, which perhaps holds strictly experimental intentions, is so perverted it makes your stomach flutter— erotic, that was erotic.

You find Dr. Crane spitting on your pussy erotic.

“Fucking finally,” he whispers.

In no time, and thanks to the skin-to-skin contact, the penetration is easier, for him at least. Four fingers slide in and out effortlessly, as your legs begin to shake, and the tight knot in your lower region threatens to snap.

“You are not allowed to come,'' his stern voice is like a fork scraping against a porcelain plate— dominant and authoritarian. “Hold it, or there will be consequences.”

The promise of a punishment for disobeying is even scarier than the possible consequences, causing you to nod and succumb to his wishes— although you don’t have much choice.

His other hand, which had been fidgeting around ever since his touch over your skin started, approaches your clit dangerously, pressing his thumb on the swollen nub, reminiscing of the circles he did an hour prior, this time tighter— faster.

His actions are lewd, definitely illegal— your noises are lewd, definitely unwilling. Your body thrashes over the metal, yanking the restraints with little success to lose them. The rational instinct screams at you to move, fight— but the overwhelming sensations act like a drug. His fingers curl in an odd position, and before you can react, his thumb slides in.

Fitting his whole hand inside your poor, stretched, wet hole.

He moves his hand slowly, testing the waters. This is the crucial part of the experiment, one false move and everything will be extremely painful to you.

Torturing your clit, Jonathan uses the lubrication and his saliva to move his hand, keeping his fingers straight and still— ignoring the uncomfortable erection straining against his slacks.

“The experiment has been a success. The patient has been able to fit my hand inside them. There are no signs of pain, discomfort, or physical rejection—” His voice shakes slightly, as if he was fighting to keep composure the same way you fought the pleasure that his unwanted touch gave you.

That's when the real thing begins.

Crane’s hand curls into a fist, making you moan louder. How can something so twisted feel so good? Lowering your watery gaze, the borderline pornographic view of being fucked by your boss’ fist sends you to a frenzied state. He keeps forcing his fist inside you, uncurling his finger lightly every now and then just to add a new sensation.

“Good…” He pants, biting his lower lip. “Come. You can come now.”

And you do. Oh, you do.

His hand assaults your pussy, stretching it beyond limits and giving you the most mind–blowing, earth–shattering, painful orgasm you had ever experienced in your life. Your clit burns from the rough treatment, and something whispers in the back of your drowning mind, that even if you manage to see the light of another day if Crane decided to let you go; you will never find something as pleasurable as what he just did.

To you. To your body. To your mind.

The realization, the crude reality— breaks the thin veil of lust. Crying, sobbing, screaming— the voice you seemed to have lost while he experimented with you finally came back.

Jonathan wipes his wet hand with his lab coat, reaching for the recorder. His black shoes click on the white tiles of the consultation room as he approaches the camera, clicking the «play» button off, the red light winking at you before disappearing.

Until next time.

Dr. Crane licks his lips, his cold blue eyes glistening with morbid excitement. His hand trembles when he brings the recorder to his lips, piercing your soul with those orbs just like he pierced your body and dignity with his fist.

“The experiment was a success.”

#— ✏️ anya writes!#— 💉Jonathan Crane!#jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane dark smut #jonathan crane headcanon #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy smut

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Break Me Down - Part 17

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Gives you a box of virtual tissues.* Just in case. 😘

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Macho angst ahead, hurt/comfort, major, major fluff…

Part 17: More Than Words Can Say

Mount Sinai Hospital was one of the largest private hospitals in the city.

Fortunately, it was also the closest to Vought Tower, or what once had been the focal point of the superhero industry. It had been reduced to mere rubble and whatever dilapidated parts still stood.

All the news outlets were covering the tower’s collapse, and speculating on what could’ve created the blast that made the entire city tremble—not unlike last year’s incident, when Soldier Boy killed the most powerful supe in the world.

In the hospital, M.M. walked through the Emergency Department until he found Yvette and her son, Devon. They sat beside each other on a single cot, now joined by Yvette’s husband Chris while she signed her discharge papers. She’d gotten off with a minor concussion and a bandage over her temple.

“Just checking in on you guys,” M.M. said. Yvette smiled, but she asked about you.

“She’s in surgery,” he told her.

Yvette nodded, though tears welled up in her eyes. Chris rubbed her back and held his son’s shoulder.

“Please call me with any news on her,” Yvette asked.

“You got it,” M.M. said.

“And please,” she said, holding her son. “Thank Soldier Boy for us.”

M.M. paused at that.

Seeing the family was well in hand, he returned to the trauma wing. There in the waiting room sat the whole team, minus Butcher, who’d been admitted to the hospital as well after the ED doctors didn’t like what they’d found on his lab reports. (But M.M. would look into that later. Hughie was with him now anyway.)

That left Frenchie, Kimiko, and Annie to wait for any news on you. Even Grace had arrived an hour ago.

But M.M.’s attention was drawn to the dusty motherfucker standing near the hallway.

Soldier Boy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The collar of his supe suit was undone to give his neck and chest some breathing room. He’d removed his gloves, and an empty gallon jug of water lied at his feet.

He was covered in a fine layer of soot and grime, though he’d since washed his hands and face to the best of his ability. He was also flanked by his two hired men, Frank Cardoza and Lorenzo Rivales.

Grace had run a quick background check on both, and as M.M. had learned, they were ex-Marines Soldier Boy had picked up in Colombia, while he was busy infiltrating a drug cartel.

Fucking figures, M.M. thought, shaking his head as he watched the man. Grace stood and joined him.

“He’s not just gonna fuck off back to South America,” he told her. “You realize that right?”

She considered that with a tilt of her head. “Let’s just see what happens here.”

As if right on cue, your surgeon made his way down the hall and over to the waiting group. Ben pushed off the wall and went to meet him, as did Grace, Annie, and M.M.

Annie and Ben eyed each other with mistrust and annoyance, respectively, but then he ignored her to regard the surgeon with a terse, expectant gaze.

The doctor was a graying man in his fifties. He seemed to internally brace himself before he spoke, glancing at Ben first before the others.

“We’ve repaired the damaged muscle around her right leg. The femur is broken. We also addressed the wound near her shoulder,” he said. “However, the rebar did nick her heart. She’ll need additional surgery to repair it.”

Ben sensed a but coming. He crossed his arms. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

The doctor gave a nod and a short sigh.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” he explained. “We’ve given her a transfusion, of course, but she’s in a delicate state right now.”

“So why’re you wasting time? Do your fucking job,” Ben snapped. Grace shot him a glance, but addressed the doctor herself.

“What are her odds, doctor?” she asked. Ben eyed her with a glare. She ignored him for the time being.

“She needs this now. But, there is a chance she won’t make it out of surgery at this stage,” the surgeon replied. “The OR will be available in thirty minutes…so this would be the time to be with her, just in case she’s unable to get through this.”

“Excuse me?” Ben said.

His tone was dark and deep with grit, and the doctor stepped back. No one dared attempt to hold Ben back, but Grace quickly thanked the doctor and urged him to move forward with prepping you for surgery.

Loco shared a saddened look with Frank, who watched their boss with a deepening frown.

Annie turned to Ben with a measure of sympathy, hidden underneath her irritation at his attitude and her worry for you. You were still her friend, and she felt guilty for how cold she’d been treating you lately. And she could see, at the very least, that this man cared about you.

“Look, can you just calm down a bit? We’re all here hoping she pulls through,” Annie said.

M.M. stood behind her, silent, supportive. But Ben just ignored her, and everyone else for that matter.

He stalked down the hallway. And when he turned a corner, out of eyeshot, he growled and punched a hole deep into the closest wall.

Hughie perked up when Butcher finally started to rouse in his hospital bed. They had him on a hefty dose of morphine.

He blinked his weary eyes, his head rolling over on the pillow. His lips quirked when he noticed Hughie, who was glaring at him.

“Watching me sleep now?” Butcher remarked. “Pretty fuckin’ creepy, Hugh.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Hughie said.

That was something Butcher couldn’t refute. He nodded. “I see they told you.”

“When were you gonna say something?” Hughie said. “When you fucking dropped dead?”

“Probably not even then,” Butcher teased. But when he took in the younger man’s face, all he saw was his little brother, Lenny. Butcher sighed.

“Ain’t nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Fucking cancer?” Hughie said incredulously. “You could’ve gotten treatment.”

“Would’ve bought me a few more months, maybe,” Butcher admitted. That fell between them for a moment with stony silence.

“It’s all right,” he added. “I’ve had my fucking time. Got to see the life drain from that golden cunt’s eyes…got to let my girl rest easy.”

Hughie didn’t buy that. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to. His eyes burned, both with emotion and determination. He stood from his seat and set out to find Grace. If there was anything that could help Butcher, she would know.

While the others went down to the cafeteria for a bite to eat, Frank sat in the waiting room with Loco beside him and Dr. Baker’s briefcase on his lap.

He was sorting through its contents while Loco sat with crossed arms and slumping shoulders. He looked over at Frank’s stoic profile with a frown.

He was older, but not by much. They’d gone through one fresh hell after another together, and somehow, Frank always managed to pull their asses out of the wringer. It seemed Frank was trying to do the same for their boss.

It was funny, actually. Soldier Boy wasn’t their first contractor. You were their first kidnapping though. Neither he or Frank had felt good about it when Antonio brought you back to the mansion in Medellin, but they’d agreed to do a job. Guarding you became part of that job.

And yet, you had somehow reminded both Frank and Loco that they used to be respectable members of society. They used to have families, friends. They had once been soldiers. Good men. Maybe that was why they’d grown fond of you over the past few months.

And Frank…well, Loco knew the man had his reasons for wanting to be done with this work. Loco couldn’t blame him; he was feeling tired himself.

“Found anything good?” Loco asked in Spanish. Frank’s dark brows had drawn together in new interest.

“More than good,” he said. He looked up, but didn’t find Soldier Boy in the waiting room. “Where the hell did he go?”

Loco pointed to the reception desk. “Try asking someone.”

With a sharp sigh, Frank gave Loco the briefcase. “Guard that with your fucking life. Don’t let anyone from the CIA take it from you.”

Loco gave him a look of offense. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, bro. Fucking hurts.”

Rolling his eyes, Frank got up and went over to the reception desk.

“Excuse me,” he said. There seemed to be no one at the reception desk. Granted, it was late at night, and they technically weren’t supposed to be there. Grace Mallory had worked out an agreement with the hospital to allow them all to stay overnight.

He didn’t have to wait too long though, as an on-duty nurse came over with a clipboard in hand. Her red hair caught his eye, along with her pretty smile.

“Hi there. Can I help you?” she asked.

Frank faltered, just for a moment. But he cleared his throat and met her eyes.

“Did you happen to see which way Soldier Boy went?” he asked.

She gave him a wan smile and pointed down the hall, to the left. “That ‘a way. Think he had an argument with the wall over there.”

Frank followed her gaze and caught sight of the hole in the wall. He frowned.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

The nurse gave him a sideways look. “No worries, hun. It’s not your fisticuff outline in the wall, now is it?”

Once again, Frank didn’t know quite what to say to her slightly teasing smile. But he returned it, more reserved, but genuine.

“Thank you,” he said, with a nod. Then he remembered then what he needed to do.

And he took off brusquely down the hall.

It took him a few minutes to pull his head together, but Ben eventually worked up his nerve to go and see you.

You were still drugged out asleep, of course. He stood outside the large window of your private room in the Intensive Care Unit. He wouldn’t go in though. Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this.

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once.

You were right then, and it still held up now.

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t.

But Ben’s awareness prickled before he noticed, Frank had joined him. Ben tolerated it. While he wanted to be alone, maybe part of him (one he wouldn’t acknowledge) craved some kind of company.

“You’ll get paid, don’t you fucking worry,” he said dryly.

“That’s not the only reason I’m here,” Frank said.

It felt like a confession. Ben didn’t reply though; he was focused on your pale face, covered by the breathing mask. Shallow puffs of air fogged the inside of it while your heart monitor clipped on.

“There’s another solution here,” Frank said.

Ben gave him a cursory side glance. “She wouldn’t take Compound V. Not even to save her fucking life.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” Frank mentioned.

Ben didn’t answer, but he’d been internally debating it ever since he’d spoken with the surgeon.

“All right, get it over here,” he said. “The temporary stuff.”

Frank rose a brow. He’d been curious enough to try testing the man. But now, he frowned.

“She won’t forgive you,” he pointed out.

“What’re you, devil’s fucking advocate? She’ll get the fuck over it,” Ben snapped.

But after his initial anger subsided…he knew his subordinate was right.

“She’ll be alive to hate me,” he said, more honestly.

Frank inclined his head. “There could be another way.”

Ben glanced over at him.

“She lost a lot of blood,” Frank said. Ben frowned.

“They’ve given her fucking blood transfusions—”

“Yeah, normal blood. A supe’s blood is stronger. Yours could probably heal her,” Frank said. “But, the only one who can break your skin is you.”

Ben eyed him in suspicion. “Who told you that?”

“Read it somewhere,” Frank said evasively.

Ben huffed in response, but as that realization truly sunk into his mind, his lips pressed together in new determination. He left Frank to start a brusque pace down the hall.

He ignored the red-headed nurse calling at him at the reception desk when he shoved through a locked security door, into the OR unit. He searched until he found your surgeon and pulled him from the sink he was washing his hands in.

The man gasped with fright, though he tried to hide it looking up at Ben. “What the hell’re you doing?”

“I’m making a donation,” said Ben. He raised a blunt nail to his wrist. “You better hurry the fuck up, because I’m about to open a vein.”

It was morning by the time another doctor returned to deliver an update on your progress: the “treatment” was working. Your wounds had knitted closed within an hour following the blood transfusion, and you no longer needed surgery. They had also x-rayed your leg and found that the bone was whole once again. Even your broken ribs had healed.

Ben nodded at the news. He didn’t respond, and just started walking down the hall. Grace, Annie, and M.M. stared after him with mixed reactions of confusion and curiosity.

“Where are you going?” Annie asked. She was exhausted; all of them were.

The supe ignored her though. M.M. shared a look with her before he decided to follow the man.

Meanwhile, Ben once again stopped in the middle of the hallway when he was out of view. He took in a slow, steadying breath of relief, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Congratulations. After today, you’re gonna get your statue put back up,” M.M. said.

Ben turned around to stare back at the man, schooling his face into a stoic frown.

“Yvette and her son are going to be fine, by the way,” M.M. added, as he crossed his arms.

Ben paused slightly at that, filing that information away with secret satisfaction.

To M.M., he merely raised a brow. “You got something to say, or are you going to keep wasting my fucking time?”

“You think saving one black kid makes you a hero?” M.M. asked, point blank. “Taking down Vought. Saving her. What does that all mean to you?”

Ben frowned in irritation. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Just answer the question. Be honest for once in your motherfuckin’ life,” M.M. said. “Do you really think you’re a hero?”

Silence fell between them.

Ben didn’t know what it was about this guy. Maybe it was his persistence, or the fact that he’d pulled you out of the rubble and got you to a hospital in time to save your life.

But Ben actually considered the question.

Killing Stan Edgar and Black Noir. Saving you. He’d done it all for selfish reasons. The kid…that was something else. His face stuck in Ben’s mind, how he’d trusted the superhero, like dumb kids were supposed to do.

But in that moment, carrying the tower on his back and knowing he was the only barrier between a mountain of hot rubble and this one kid…Ben hadn’t wanted to fail.

And still. You are the reason I needed saving…

It wasn’t really saving the fucking day if he started it, was it?

Ben’s lips turned on a humorless smile. Still, he had saved the kid. And his mom. And you. For now, that was enough.

“Looks like I am,” said Ben.

But he met M.M.’s stare, briefly allowing him to glimpse beyond a wall of arrogance and pride.

And Ben walked away. M.M. watched him go in silent contemplation.

Grace intercepted Ben before he could visit you in the ICU.

Christ. What the fuck now? he thought sourly.

She gestured for a word, and with an annoyed look, he followed her down the hall.

“I’ll get to the point,” she said. “Butcher is sharing a floor with your girlfriend, down in Oncology.”

Ben raised a brow. That prick had cancer? Par for the fucking course, if he said so himself.

“So?” he remarked.

Grace sighed. She’d expected that reaction. “They’ve given him weeks, but the way he’s been pushing himself, more likely it’s days. Taking the untested Temp V long-term has had its adverse side effects…if you were to make another blood donation, I’ll make it worth your while.”

So now his blood was some fucking wonder drug? Hell no, Ben thought.

“You’re asking me to save the guy who’s double-crossed me, tried to hunt me down, tried to end me?” he said, with a dark, incredulous chuckle. “You can fuck right off, sweetheart.”

She grated at the sweetheart remark, but Grace leveled him with steely blue eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be on ice right now,” she pointed out.

Ben’s lips pursed. He’d really like to snap this bitch’s fucking neck on principle…but then he thought about it. He could work this into his favor.

“You know what. I’m having a good day, so maybe I’m feeling fucking generous,” he said. His mouth edged into a smirk. “But I think it’s time we renegotiated our contract. Don’t you?”

Grace stared up at him, and she inhaled a deep breath.

“Fine.”

You slowly woke up in a hospital room, in a paper gown with an IV drip and a heart monitor. Which made sense, as the events of yesterday came back to you in a rush.

But beyond feeling relieved to be alive, you also felt extremely well-rested. You didn’t feel like a building fell on you.

What kind of masterful drugs are they giving me? You tried to read your chart on the wall, but you didn’t see any pain medication on there.

Annie popped into your private recovery room. Her face brightened when she saw that you were awake.

“Hey, hun! How do you feel?” she asked, lowering into a chair at your bedside. You wouldn’t know that this chair had been occupied by various members of the team over the past few hours, including M.M., Frenchie, Frank, and even Grace.

“Great, actually,” you replied. But now you frowned. “I shouldn’t feel great.”

You remembered nearly being crushed under a pile of rubble. You remembered falling on a piece of rebar, and unable to move your crushed leg. You remembered the worry in Ben’s eyes…

And panic stung at yours.

“Did they give me Compound V?” your voice shook when you asked. Annie calmed you down with a shake of her head and a reassuring hand on your arm.

The door to your room opened once again. Ben’s frame filled up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat. He was still in his supe suit, and with his hands resting on his belt, he strutted inside the room.

M.M., Frenchie, Frank, Loco, and Kimiko came in behind him and at least looked showered. Ben looked like he hadn’t even done that much, nor slept all night.

“It wasn’t the V,” he said at last. “Just a little blood donation. Seemed to work like a charm.”

His resulting grin had a bit of charm in it as well. Your head tilted in confusion.

"Whose blood?" you asked.

"Mine," he said. His expression faded, slightly more serious.

You found yourself slowly smiling, though your brows still furrowed in surprise. He gave me his blood…instead of Compound V.

While you tried to wrap your mind around the gravity of that, you reached for the pitcher of water on the rolling tray beside you. You grasped the pitcher, but the plastic actually crunched in your hand. You gasped and moved your hand over so the water inside wouldn’t spill all over you.

Ben raised a brow.

The room fell silent as all eyes stared at you. When the water finished pouring out onto the floor, you gently set it back down on the tray.

“Seems you got some of his strength in the deal,” Annie remarked.

“Great, there’s two of them,” Hughie quipped with a grin.

“Well, that’s probably just temporary,” M.M. sighed. “Hopefully.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and it brought a slight grin to Ben’s lips.

After a bit of well wishing, everyone cleared out of your room to let you rest up…except for Ben, Frank, and Loco.

“What are you guys going to do now?” you asked of the latter two. Loco cracked his knuckles.

“Got another job lined up in private security,” he revealed. “I’ve lost the taste for drug running. Nearly lost a damn toe on the last one.”

You laughed. “Well, thanks for doing one more job here.”

“Anything for el Capitán,” Loco said, giving Ben a respectful nod. “He pays exceedingly well.”

You raised a brow at Ben, who shrugged with a cocky grin. Smiling, you turned to Frank, who was sitting in the chair beside your bed.

“And you?” you asked. Frank gave you a rare smile.

“Going home,” he said. “To my daughter.”

Your eyes began to sting, but you tried to blink away the beginnings of tears. You nodded and squeezed his arm.

“Give her a big hug for me. And thank you again…for everything,” you said, even though you realized that thanking your former guard keep was strange. Still, there had been no part of your kidnapping that was normal in the least.

Frank hesitated, but he covered your hand with his.

Though he caught the way Ben’s face tightened, and Frank let go of you. He stood with Loco, giving you and Ben a final nod. Then the two men left your room and disappeared down the hall.

Part of you felt melancholy, like chapters of your life were closing. But you also felt like new ones were waiting in the wings.

Your gaze turned to Ben, who stood near your bed.

He was looking over your chart to see if the doctors needed anything else before you were discharged. But your soft voice called to him, earning his attention. You beckoned him closer.

He went over and sat down on the edge of your bed, laying a hand on your thigh. You reached out for his arm.

“Thank you,” you said.

Ben scoffed, though a hint of humor glinted in his eyes. “For what? Saving your reckless ass for the millionth time?”

“For saving Yvette and her son,” you replied with a smile. “And yeah, all that other stuff.”

Your hand slid down his arm and slipped into his hand. Your fingers curled around his palm.

“Really. Thank you…”

Tears welled up in your eyes again. You still couldn’t fucking believe he opened up one of his own veins and gave you his blood. He gave a public hospital his blood in order to save you.

He could’ve easily slipped you V24 again, or worse, the permanent stuff. But he didn’t just save you. He’d respected your wishes.

What you wanted to say next got stuck in your throat.

Ben had something hiding behind his eyes, like he was reluctant to show you his real emotions. But when he focused on your face, his hand tightened on yours. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. He only let go of your hand to brush a falling tear from your cheek. His lips twitched at a smile.

“Come on now, baby doll. You’re tougher than that.”

You choked on a laugh as more of your tears slipped down your warming cheeks. “Nope. I’m actually not.”

“Hmm. Could’ve fooled me,” Ben said. You matched his grin with a beaming smile of your own.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up and took his dirty face in your hands. You guided him down to you, and you pressed your lips to his.

He allowed it with his usual demanding, fervent kiss. But then it slowed. He held your wrist to keep your hand in place on his cheek, and his thumb drew bath and forth over your skin.

You parted from him, pulling back enough to see his face. There was so much you wanted to say…but maybe right now, it was too much.

You met him with another tearful kiss.

Before you were officially discharged from the hospital, you had one more visitor.

Grace was once again there to debrief you. This time though, Ben sat at your side on the bed, a silent statue who regarded the woman coolly. He seemed to be tolerating her presence with more ease than usual, and you wondered why.

“You’re going on medical leave,” she informed you. “For three months, and then a psychiatrist will need to clear you for duty.”

Part of you wanted to argue, considering you were completely healed of your injuries. But you knew you needed a break from the S.A.—from all of this.

“Your mother and sister will be brought out of witness protection soon, after we determine that the threat is sufficiently neutralized,” she said. “You can return home today as well.”

You could finally go back to your apartment…though the thought didn’t call to you as much as it should have. You glanced over at Ben.

“Is this the part where you try to ship him back to Colombia?” you asked.

“That was the agreement,” Grace said wryly. You frowned, trying to blink away the tears forming once again in your eyes.

You didn’t want to lose him, but you also didn’t want to give up your life here. You didn’t want to leave the S.A., or your family, or your friends. Ben put you out of your misery, however.

“We renegotiated,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Grace explained, “In exchange for his assistance in another case, he can stay in the U.S. on a trial basis. As long as he agrees to live within the law.”

You didn’t entirely trust Grace. Ben would be watched at every moment. That was a given, but considering he still didn’t have full control over his nuclear power, you were surprised Grace would allow him free roam within U.S. borders.

“And, provided, he agrees to a relocation. Preferably not in a densely populated area,” Grace added.

There it is, you frowned. You shared a look with him, and you could see he wasn’t entirely on board with this. You had no doubt he’d agreed to her demands by lying through his teeth.

You turned back to Grace.

“What if he becomes a contractor for Supe Affairs,” you proposed. “There may be some fallout after Vought’s collapse, and more of their records to go through. Other labs to clear out. Ben would be a lot of help, if he’s willing.”

You glanced at Ben again. He met your eyes, then Grace’s, and he nodded marginally. He was getting bored of the heat in South America anyway.

Grace heaved a sigh. Ben’s lips formed a smirk.

“Oh, relax. I just ended Vought. You’d be an idiot not to cash in on that PR,” he pointed out.

“Need I remind you that you caused the tower’s collapse?” Grace said tersely. “And you did not end Vought. There will be repercussions to this, believe me.”

Ben’s face tightened, but you grasped his hand.

“But he fulfilled the mission,” you said. “He took out Black Noir…and Stan Edgar in the process.”

“The idea was to arrest him, but I get your point,” Grace said. Her hand raised to cover her mouth as she thought about your proposal.

Eventually, she spoke. “If you can play by our rules, then we’ll contract with you. But until you get that atomic bomb under control, you can’t remain the city. Upstate is the best I can do.”

Ben chafed at being told what he couldn’t do. What the fuck was he going to do in Upstate New York? Slowly rot to death in dusty-ass suburbia?

You shot him a knowing look, raising a brow.

“It’s a fair offer, Ben,” you pointed out. His lips pursed in annoyance. But he glanced at your hand in his.

Then he looked up at Grace. “Fine. But first, unfreeze my fucking bank accounts.”

Ben later led you out of the hospital. There was a car waiting outside, and he got in to drive, despite you offering. He must’ve been going on very little sleep, if any over the past two days.

And of course, he’d refused to be seen at all medically, saying he was fine. You were still concerned about that destabilizing gun Black Noir had shot him with.

“I’m fine,” Ben had claimed. “Just need some sleep, that’s all.”

You watched his profile for a moment, and a smile started to raise your lips…until you finally remembered something that felt like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“Um…” you said, earning Ben’s attention. You looked up at him. “My father’s dead…”

Good fucking riddance, was Ben’s initial reaction. Followed by a frown, as he now realized he would never get the pleasure of choking the shit out of Jon himself.

Ben had been fucking livid to learn from Frank that you’d been left alone in the Tower with your father while it was coming down (and Ben was petty enough to dock that little slip up from Frank’s pay). Had that asshole lived, Ben wouldn’t have put it past him to try and take you with him after escaping the building. The mere thought grated on him.

“Black Noir killed him,” you said, heaving a shaky breath.

That cut through Ben’s thoughts. He glanced over, watching you fight some conflicting emotions.

“…Punched a hole straight through his chest,” you added.

Ben hummed in acknowledgement. You turned to him with a raised brow and glassy eyes. When he realized you were expecting a bit more from him, his lips pursed.

“Well, he got a quick death,” he said. “Better than he fucking deserved, far as I’m concerned.”

You sighed and leaned your head back on the head rest. Your eyes closed.

“Goddamn it, Ben.”

Ben eyed you with a deepening frown. “What the fuck do you expect me to say?”

“How about some decency?” you asked, as a tear fell down your cheek. “He tried to apologize. But I wouldn’t let him.”

He paused at that. While he thought you were being unreasonable, it begrudgingly dawned on him what you wanted, and maybe, what you needed. He sighed through his nose. Even now, you were a handful.

Ben reached over, taking your hand from your lap. He pressed the back of it to his lips, earning your mild surprise.

“That’s not your fault,” he said. And he briefly took his eyes off the road to look into yours. “None of it was. You understand me?”

Your face softened. Though you tried to blink away your tears, a few of them still fell. You wiped at them with your free hand, while the other squeezed around his fingers, resting against your thigh. Despite how you were fracturing inside, warmth still kept you afloat.

So you looked up at Ben, and you nodded. He seemed satisfied by your answer. He turned back fully to the road, but you kept a tight hold of his hand. He allowed it.

“We’ll have to go to the safe house to get our stuff,” you said eventually, with a small sniffle.

“No need,” Ben said. “That’s taken care of.”

That confused you. Was he taking you to your apartment then?

But instead, he drove you out of the city, and an hour upstate into Scarsdale. You’d never been there, but you knew it by reputation—as one of the most affluent towns in the state.

You were even more confused when he drove down a street flanked by tall hedges within a private community. He pulled into a circular driveway in front of an immense white house, with a red brick roof, colonial architecture, a manicured lawn, complete with matching fountains lining the front door.

Ben parked the car and encouraged you to get out with him. You followed him up to the front porch, expecting an old billionaire to pop out of the tall bushes at any moment to chase you away.

“What’re we doing here?” you asked. His hands fell to the belt of his supe suit as he surveyed the stood, the door, and the walls for anything amiss.

“I’m looking into buying it,” he revealed, as if he’d just told you, It’s pretty fucking sunny today, huh?

“Our stuff is ready to be shipped out when the deal closes with the owner,” he added.

Your eyes flew wide. “What? When did you have time to scope out houses?”

You’d only been discharged about an hour after the conversation with Grace.

“I had Frank look into some shit. He found this one,” Ben shrugged. “Could use some work, but not bad.”

Our stuff, you repeated in your mind. This house…was he trying to recreate what the two of you had in Medellin?

And more importantly, was this his way of asking you to move in with him?

Well, there’s not too much asking going on, you thought in annoyance. And yet, you blushed; the sentiment in itself was enough to warm you.

You brought Ben back down to Earth by grasping his hands, earning his attention from the old grout in the tile.

“Ben, this place is amazing,” you said. “But I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable living like this.”

He frowned down at you. “What the hell do you mean? You could have anything you want here. It’s safe. Got plenty of room—”

“A bit too much room,” you said, holding up your thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart.

He looked adorably grumpy. You smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Did you really feel cozy and at home in that mansion with fifty rooms and nobody in ‘em?” you asked.

He didn’t answer you, and he didn’t seem happy either. You didn’t want him to take this as a rejection.

“If we’re going to do this,” you said, “then can we start a little smaller? Somewhere that feels like home to both of us?”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance. “You need to broaden your palate.”

You just managed to stop yourself from laughing.

“You haven’t had a normal home in a long time, Ben,” you replied. Maybe ever, you realized. “How about you trust me?”

He gave you a dubious frown.

“What about this,” you tried. “Let’s pick it out together! If in a few months you still hate the new place, we’ll try it your way.”

“You’re assuming we’re gonna make it that long.” Ben was starting to wonder if this was going to work after all. The two of you were from very different worlds.

You offered a cheeky smile. “I’m optimistic.”

He huffed. “Sure.”

You reached up on your toes, and gripped the front of his suit when you leaned up to kiss him. His hands rose naturally to hold you, resting on your jean-clad hips. He followed your languid kiss, his furrowed brows relaxing when you touched his cheek.

When you broke from his lips, his eyes opened to find yours.

“I am, Ben,” you said more seriously. “I’m not playing games. This is real to me, and I want to be with you.”

But then you hesitated. You lowered back down to your feet.

“But if it’s not to you…if you’re just passing time with me, until you get bored,” you said, “tell me now. Please.”

It was Ben’s turn to hesitate. It was the please that got to him, along with your downturned gaze. He captured your chin between his fingers and raised your face up to him.

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.”

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

AN: *squeals* It's happening! We've really gotten here, folks. How'd you like how it all wrapped up with Grace, M.M., and even Butcher?

But we're not quite there with these two yet...

Next Time:

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months.

Keep reading: THE EPILOGUE

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#More Than Words Can Say #the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 17 #zepskies writes

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kimberly-spirits13 · 8 months ago

Text

Jason Todd With Scientist S/O

He thinks your job is so cool

He's really smart so he can keep up with all the science lingo but sometimes you have to explain exactly what you're doing I the lab since it's not all common knowledge

Wants to know what you're doing and why you're doing it or how you're doing it

explain the deep dive details, he loves it and it makes him feel like you care about him being interested

He respects if you have to work long hours since he does too

He is honestly worried that if you're working on anything high profile or top secret that something bad will happen at the lab so he hangs around a lot and has given you a few different things to signal him if you need him

If you're a vigilante he still does this and the rest of the Batfamily have given you something to call them just incase

It's not that they don't trust that you'd take care of yourself, but sometimes you can't drop a beaker of something just cause Mr. Freeze is having a meltdown again instead of going to therapy

sorry Victor, I understand but don't be freezing innocents dude

sometimes you have to leave the bed early because you have a long day at the lab and need to be able to work long hours without it being 1am the next day

Jason probably reads Frankenstein with you a lot since he jokes about you being Frankenstein

hopes that you never do become Victor Frankenstein though because that dude was wild

He thinks that you look adorable in your lab gear

even if it's full hazmat stuff he thinks it's so cute

he doesn't like hazmat things though cause like- obviously

You have a lot of jewelry from Jason and you cannot always wear jewelry in the lab

there are things that can tear, dissolve, steam, burn, it's just overall not a good time with rings or hanging necklaces

Jason realizes that you have to leave your jewelry behind and lot and he gives you a special jewelry box to keep everything in

installs one in your locker at the facility so that no one can bust in but you can wear your jewelry every where but the lab

Asks you about your day and cooks dinner when you're having a hard time

house keeper of the year

he learned from Alfred

picks you up from the lab and likes to come in and see what you're doing if he can

doesn't mind getting suited up in a lab coat, hair net, gloves, glasses... if that means that he gets to see what's up

he loves asking questions about the things that he's looking at and feels comfortable asking what may be considered dumb questions

he's confident that no matter what comes out of his mouth, it's received as if it came from someone who's an expert in the field

Comes to your work in his Red Hood gear if you're working late

hangs out and talks to you while you're working

drops you off and picks you up on his bike

makes sure that you have clean pjs after taking those scolding all over showers when you're done working

loves watching TV after work with you since it's a time that you can both shut off your brains and hang out

Fridays are ice cream and tv nights even if you two are working late

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fluff #red hood x y/n #jason todd

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fanficwriters-posts · 1 year ago

Text

Note: I'm making this because there's literally almost little about him.

Hiro Hamada HCs

Definitely a lot of dates in the lab instead of outside but he still likes hanging out outside of the lab.

Will literally get you whatever you want as long as he knows how to make it.

Or as long as he's able to afford it.

No matter what.

But he won't tell or present it to you like he made/bought it.

You just left your classroom and headed to your lab to do your homework. It was beside Tadashi's(which is now Hiro's but still Tadashi's) and always has been. Once you enter, Hiro would poke his head out of his lab and take quiet steps towards your lab doors before putting down the thing you wanted but in a box. He knocks on the door before dashing back into his lab, pushing Baymax who was watching the whole time back in. You look up from your book in curiosity and set your pen down before heading towards the door to see who was outside. When you open it, you found nothing until you look down to see a well wrapped box with a little flower on top. You grab the present and see that it's addressed to you before unwrapping it to find the item you've been wanting for a while. Meanwhile, Hiro sits on his beanbag with a proud smirk on his face.

He loves it when you play with his hair or wear his sweater.

He literally melts when he sees you wear it.

Baymax is concerned sometimes because of how much smiling he does when you're around.

He introduced you to his friends and they absolutely adore you. Especially, Honey Lemon and Fred.

Whenever he gets bored, he'd just pick up his phone and call you. When you answer, he'd say; "So bored. Can we hang out?"

Late night or not, he still manages to find ways to hang out with you. Online or not.

During weekends, everytime he goes down to the cafe, he'd wait for you to walk in but if you don't, he'll text you.

If you're sick on weekends, Aunt Cass will make some soup and Hiro will gift it to your parents even though they already made your food.

He'll definitely stay beside you when you're sick. If you sneeze, a tissue is already in his hand, holding it out for you to take and wipe your nose.

If he gets sick, then you'll return the favor and take care of him while Aunt Cass runs the cafe downstairs.

He won't admit he's sick and deny it all the time until he accepts it(which is after 30 minutes).

He only lets you to enter his room even when he's asleep.

When he wakes up, expect a goofy smile on this raven haired boy.

"Hey beautiful/handsome/gorgeous."

Cheesy when he's half asleep.

If you're ever scared, he'd sent Baymax over to comfort when he couldn't. If he could, then he'll go to your room and comfort you himself.

He'll probably wake up later than you but we all sleep late sometimes too so...

During weekdays, he always pick you up at your place, brings you your favorites from The Lucky Cat Cafe before walking to SFIT together.

Or you'd be the one picking him up from his place.

It depends on who's texting who to pick who up.

He loves his bags of gummy bears so you buy some more for him.

He loves you even more.

When you two have to do hero stuff, you always ride with him on Baymax when traveling.

He finds you so good-looking in your hero suit that he nearly draw you on his textbook. Trying to be like Miles Morales.

JK. Definitely draw you.

He loves to take you out on dinner dates because he found them more romantic than lab dates.

Gets seriously worried when something happens to you when you fight bad guys together.

He has magnets on your gloves and shoes like his hero suit just so he can keep you still on Baymax's back.

He loves it when you get so serious in your things like, studying, fighting, gaming, creating something. It shows that you're putting a lot of effort into it and he's proud of it.

Always gets higher score than yours in tests, and sometimes lower. Yours is around 90% all the time thanks to your scheduled study dates every time before final exams or tests. But his? 99% and 89% all the way. Sometimes you both get 100.

He loves PDA but not around Aunt Cass. He gets super flustered but so confident when she or his friends are not around.

Brags about you to Karmi to make her jealous.

Literally never stops.

He just love you so much.

Homemade ice creams!

Especially during summer break.

He wanted to make a machine for it but you prefer making them yourself.

He'll join you once he gets too hot from the heat that he stops half way making it. Just wait.

If it's too long to make, you guys would just use science to make the ice cream freeze quicker.

Has a wall for polaroids of you guys on your dates (takes one on each date).

Mostly only you guys but in some there's Baymax and/or Fred who wants to join in by photo bombing it.

Aunt Cass loves them and likes to ask Hiro which date did you guys go to while pointing at a Polaroid.

The camera is yours but he's the one to keeps the photos.

Always play co-op games with you.

Any kind.

Movie nights neither of you guys are tired.

Holds your hand in public even when doing hero stuff.

Honey Lemon will suggest you what kind of dates you two should do together.

Wasabi is a supporter. When someone is about to intervene, he'd politely ask them to leave so you and Hiro can have some quality time together.

GoGo is proud whenever Hiro makes the first move during your dates.

Tells you who he's with and where he's going to.

He wants you to trust him as much as he trusts you.

Rarely is jealous. But definitely get defensive when someone flirts with you.

If you guys ever argue, he'd be the first one to apologize and you two hug it out.

Makes you vehicle of your choice out of scrap. But no car yet. (Motorcycle, skateboard, scooter, etc)

If you love flowers, he'll buy you seeds for them and you'd give the flowers to Hiro and Aunt Cass. Little flower crowns for Mochi and Baymax, too.

If Hiro ever gets a nightmare. You'd know.

Literally.

Like, he shot up from his sleeping state from his nightmare, panting and sweating cold sweat and you'll just wake up in the middle of the night and say to yourself, "Something just happened."

He's a lot more open to you than he is to his friends.

Loves to share a sweater during winter. And he'll make sure to use the big comfy one.

He adores the view of you in the winter. It warms his heart and his face.

Comforts you whenever you're sad whether you need him or not.

You and the gang plays Just Dance at Fred's house and even- almost- got Clifford to do it.

He makes you your own mini-max that suits your personality.

Video call through your Mini-max and his Baymax if either your phones are charging.

Never sleeps on your sleepovers and ended up fighting to stay awake during the day because you wanted to hang out together.

You guys ended up sleeping in his room and on his bed anyway.

He'd keep every single present you give him because he cherish them.

You'd keep every single present of his and put them to use if they are made for it.

Matching silver necklaces.

Deep conversations on your rooftop.

Skincare together after you both turn 16.

Planning on moving to an apartment that's only a few blocks away from the Lucky Cat Cafe and your house when you turn 20.

#hiro hamada x reader #hiro hamada #x reader #disney #fanfiction #headcanon #big hero 6 #gogo tomago #honey lemon #wasabi #fred frederickson iv

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beautification-tales · 1 month ago

Text

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…

#beautification #f2f transformation #transformation #breast expansion #bimboification #ass expansion #beauty is power #origin stories #musclegrowth #fat loss #the nutty professor #genderswap #the frump #serum #science transformation

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