#imagining him hands behind his back with a lab coat on

[pin-k-ink]

twinges // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ hoshina is down bad, medic!reader, coercion(?), he has a wild imagination, handjob, thigh riding, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, degradation, name calling, nipple play, rough sex, dirty talk, belly bulge, semi public sex

wc ⇢ 5.2k

a/n: if any of yall are confused, he was just jealous of kafka in the second part

The late afternoon sun slants through the infirmary windows, painting elongated shadows across the sterile white floors and gleaming metal surfaces. Hoshina pauses at the threshold, his calloused hand resting lightly on the cool metal of the door frame. His eyes, usually closed in his trademark jovial expression, are open just a sliver, dark and intense as they drink in the sight before him.

You're at the far end of the room, completely engrossed in your task of restocking supplies. Your lab coat is slightly rumpled, the crisp white fabric creasing at your elbows and waist as you move. A few rebellious strands of hair have framed your lovely face. To Hoshina, you've never looked more appealing. His gaze traces the curve of your spine and your plush ass as you bend to retrieve a box, and his mind wanders. He imagines stepping behind you, his hands settling on your hips, pulling you flush against him. In his fantasy, you'd gasp, surprised but not unwilling, as he'd slide his hand into the opening of your coat. He'd cup one breast, his fingers rolling your nipple into a stiff peak as he'd bite the delicate skin of your neck. You'd lean back against him, your body pliant and willing, and he'd press his aching cock against—

Hoshina shakes his head slightly, dispelling the surprisingly vivid image and urging his twitching erection to go down. He clears his throat softly, his voice a low rumble that seems to reverberate through the quiet room. "Oi, sensei. Got a minute?"

You start at the sound of his voice, nearly dropping the roll of bandages in your hands. The sudden movement causes more strands of hair to fall loose, framing your face in a way that makes Hoshina's breath catch. "Vice-Captain! I didn't hear you come in."

Hoshina's lips curl into a smile as you hurry towards him, your lab coat fluttering behind you like wings. He doesn't move from the doorway, curious to see what you'll do. His mind races ahead, imagining you stumbling into his arms, your soft body pressed against his hard planes. He'd steady you, of course, his hands wandering perhaps a tad lower to place a subtle palm on your backside. But you'd be oblivious, as always, to the effect you have on him.

"Is everything okay?" you ask, coming to a stop mere inches from him. Your eyes, wide with concern, scan his body from head to toe, looking for any signs of injury. The intensity of your gaze makes Hoshina feel exposed, as if you can see right through him to the less-than-pure thoughts swirling in his mind. "Are you hurt?"

Hoshina feels his pulse quicken at your proximity. He can smell the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic on your hands, mixed with something sweeter - your shampoo, perhaps? The combination is intoxicating, uniquely you, and it takes all his self-control not to lean in closer, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and inhale deeply. He wonders what other scents he might discover if he were to explore your body more thoroughly, what sounds he might coax from your lips if he were to—

"Nah, nothin' like that," he drawls, his Kansai dialect more pronounced than usual as he struggles to keep his thoughts in check. "Just thought I'd stop by, see how my favorite medic's doin'."

You beam up at him, your smile radiant and utterly oblivious to the way his eyes darken as they trace the curve of your lips. Hoshina's mind conjures up vivid images of those lips pressed against his, parting softly under the insistent pressure of his kiss. He imagines the little gasps and moans he could draw from you, the way your hands might clutch at his shoulders as he deepens the kiss.

"That's so thoughtful of you, Vice-Captain! I'm doing well, just a bit busy with inventory."

Without warning, you reach out and grasp his wrist, tugging him into the infirmary. Hoshina allows himself to be led, savoring the warmth of your hand on his skin. Your touch is clinical, professional, but his mind transforms it into something more vulgar. He imagines you grasping his cock instead, your small hand encircling his length as you pump him with firm strokes. He'd lean in close, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered dirty thoughts into the space between you, and you'd tremble at the intensity of his gaze.

"Since you're here," you chirp, your voice bright and completely at odds with the heated direction of Hoshina's thoughts, "I might as well do a quick check-up. It's been a while since your last one, hasn't it?"

Hoshina chuckles low in his throat, the sound rich with hidden meaning. "Ya just can't help yerself, can ya? Always fussin' over everyone."

As you guide him to sit on the examination table, Hoshina's mind races ahead once more. He pictures a different scenario: you, perched on the edge of the table, your legs parted to accommodate his hips as he stands between them. Your lab coat would be discarded, your hair loose and tousled from his fingers. He'd lean in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hand slipped between your thighs.

Hoshina forces himself back to reality as you step between his legs, preparing to check his vitals. The position is tantalizingly close to his fantasy, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself. You lean in close, your fingers gently pressing against his neck to check his pulse. Hoshina's breath catches as your scent envelops him, as he feels the whisper of your breath against his skin.

"Hmm," you murmur, frowning slightly. "Your heart rate seems a bit elevated. Have you been overexerting yourself in training?"

Hoshina struggles to maintain his composure, acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies. "Maybe," he manages, his voice huskier than usual. "Or maybe it's just the effect ya have on me, sensei."

You pull back slightly, your brow furrowed in concern. "Effect? Am I making you nervous? I'm so sorry, I know I can be a bit intense sometimes."

Hoshina can't help but laugh, the sound rich and warm, tinged with a hint of frustration at your continued obliviousness. "Nervous? Nah, that ain't it at all."

He watches as you turn away to grab a stethoscope, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, lingering on the swell of your rear. He imagines stepping up behind you, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. In his mind, you'd melt into him, tilting your head back to offer him better access to the smooth column of your throat.

When you face him again, Hoshina doesn't bother hiding the appreciative gleam in his eyes. He wonders how much longer he can endure this exquisite torture, how many more check-ups and casual touches he can withstand before he finally snaps and shows you exactly what you do to him.

For now, though, he'll savor every moment, every innocent touch and oblivious smile. And he'll continue to hope that one day, you'll finally notice the hunger in his eyes, the tension in his body, and realize that his feelings for you go far beyond that of a superior for his subordinate.

You finished up treating Kafka's minor wound, your fingers deftly securing the bandage in place. As you stepped back, you made a mental note to restock the supplies you'd used, cataloging the items in your head. Kafka flexed his arm experimentally, offering you a grateful smile.

"Thanks, [Y/N]-san," he said, sliding off the examination table. "You always patch me up so quickly."

You returned his smile with a professional nod. "Just doing my job, Hibino-san. Try to be more careful next time, alright?"

As Kafka made his way to the door, you turned to update his medical file. The soft click of the door closing behind him echoed in the quiet infirmary. However, before you could even pick up your pen, the door swung open again with far more force than necessary.

You whirled around, startled by the sudden intrusion. There in the doorway stood Vice Captain Hoshina, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by an intensity that made your breath catch. His eyes, normally half-lidded and playful, were now sharp and focused, boring into you with an emotion you couldn't quite name.

Hoshina strode into the room, his casual gait at odds with the tension radiating from his body. The door closed behind him with a soft thud that seemed to reverberate through the suddenly charged atmosphere of the infirmary.

"Vice Captain," you began, your voice steadier than you felt. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, my dear," he greeted you, though his usual jovial tone seemed a touch forced. "I was hoping you could take a look at something f’me."

You cocked your head curiously. Hoshina's demeanor was different today - still laid-back on the surface, but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite put your finger on. "Of course, what seems to be the issue?"

Rather than answering directly, Hoshina moved to hop up on the examination table, legs swinging idly. "It's my stomach," he said at last, meeting your gaze with a look that made your breath catch. "Been feeling some...twinges lately. Figured you're the best one to take a look."

Before you could respond, Hoshina had already started stripping off his uniform jacket, bunching it carelessly beside him. His undershirt followed swiftly, leaving his chiseled torso bare. You tried not to stare, but couldn't help admiring the defined musculature, the toned grooves of his abdomen, the faint trail of dark purple hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

"Uh, I-I see," you managed, hoping the flush in your cheeks could be explained away by the warmth of the room. "And where exactly have you been feeling these...twinges?"

You stepped closer, determined to remain professional despite Hoshina's state of undress. But your breath hitched as he leaned back on his palms, abdomen flexing enticingly.

"Hmm, not sure exactly," he murmured, holding your widened gaze with dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "Figured ya might need to do a...thorough examination to find the source."

His words and the tone in which he uttered them made something low in your belly go taut and molten. You licked your suddenly dry lips, trying to process if the Vice-Captain was actually implying what you thought.

"I...yes, well, standard procedure and all that," you stammered, turning away under the guise of retrieving your stethoscope to hide your flustered state.

When you faced Hoshina again, he had shed his boots and was in the process of shucking his pants as well. You froze, drinking in the acres of bare, toned flesh being revealed to your hungry stare. Before you could wrestle your composure back, he met your eyes with a rakish grin.

"Don't worry, sensei," Hoshina rumbled, the endearment thrumming with intimate promise as he settled back in a blatant state of undress, now clad in nothing but his boxers. "I'm just tryin' to make yer job easier. Ya know how seriously I take my health."

The weight of his hooded stare traced heated paths over you as you stepped between his parted thighs. Heat prickled deliciously along your nerves, but you managed to keep your tone professionally clinical.

"Just relax then. I'll take a look and see what might be causing these...twinges."

Rather than grabbing the stethoscope, you snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Hoshina watched the mundane action with rapt focus, eyes darkening perceptibly as you leaned over him. You were oblivious to the molten intent in his stare, too focused on your task.

Gently, you began palpating his abdomen with probing fingers, feeling for any sign of tenderness or abnormality. Hoshina made a low, guttural sound of contentment at your touch, the vibration seeming to go straight to your core. You frowned, feigning concentration even as your mouth went unbearably dry.

"Hmm, I'm not sensing any obvious issues so far," you murmured, determined to stay professional despite the heated energy charging the air. "Let me apply a bit more pressure and really get a sense of..."

The clinical words trailed off into a strangled silence as your explorative prodding ventured lower on Hoshina's taut abdomen. Your fingers stilled, searing awareness crashing over you as they brushed against unmistakable evidence that whatever was "ailing" the Vice-Captain clearly had nothing to do with his stomach.

You glanced up to find Hoshina's eyes had gone hooded and molten, lips parted on a ragged exhalation as he held your widened stare. His calloused fingers found your wrist, guiding your hand with delicious insistence until you were firmly cupping the rigid length tenting the thin fabric preserving the last shreds of his modesty.

"There," he rasped in a wrecked timbre that seemed to reverberate straight through your bones. "That's where it's been...throbbing, sensei. Mind checkin' a little more thoroughly?"

The blatant suggestion - coupled with the undeniable heat now cradled in your palm - made rational thought screech to a halt. You could only gape at Hoshina, finally seeing the naked truth simmering in his heavy-lidded stare.

Realization detonated through you in a blinding rush, sending your heartbeat into a thunderous gallop. All this time you'd been deaf and blind to the Vice-Captain's not-so-subtle overtures and suggestive glances. But now, confronted with devastatingly visceral proof of his desire, there was no more hiding from the smoldering truth.

Hoshina's lips curved in a slow, predatory smirk, his thumb tracing meaningfully over your racing pulse point. "So...still need me to spell it out for ya, sensei? Or are ya finally gettin' the hint?"

You could only stare at Hoshina in a daze of shocked realization mixed with undeniable arousal. Your palm burned with the searing heat of his cock, your body thrumming in sympathetic response despite your mind's stunned inability to process this sudden turn.

Hoshina leveled you with that same dark, piercing stare that seemed to stroke over your thundering pulse and flushed skin like a physical caress. His chest rose and fell in a mesmerizing display of taut muscle and sinew as he held you utterly captive.

"Cat got your tongue, sensei?" he murmured, lips curving in a smirk that shouldn't have looked so indecent. "Don't go gettin' shy on me now."

Slowly, with blatant intent, Hoshina rocked his hips in a shallow grind against your trapped palm. You bit back a strangled sound at the heated friction, fingers twitching reflexively to curl around his impressive girth.

"Atta girl," Hoshina groaned in rasping approval, allowing his head to loll back as your fingers tentatively stroked the hardness straining against the confines of his underwear. "Ain't so scary when ya just give into it, is it?"

Your mouth felt unbearably dry as you watched his throat work on a ragged swallow. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the riveting sight of Hoshina coming apart at your exploratory caresses, chest hair and muscles shifting in tantalizing glimpses with each undulation of his hips.

"Hoshina...I...we can't..." You didn't even know what you were trying to say, words tapering off into a whimpery exhalation as his large hand found your nape. The calloused heat of his palm against your sensitive skin made your eyes want to roll back in your head.

"Can't what?" he growled, the words seeming to reverberate from somewhere deep in his chest as he hauled you down into a scorching, open-mouthed crash of lips and questing tongues.

The taste of him flooded your senses - warm sake and dark, earthy musk swimming together in an intoxicating blend. You moaned outright at the first insistent lap of his tongue, hips jerking in reflexive answer even as your thoughts whirled dizzily.

When the need for air became too great, Hoshina tore his mouth from yours with a rasping groan. You blinked up at him in a delirious daze, lips slick and tingling and swollen from the branding heat of his kiss.

"The way you've been lookin' at me, touchin' me..." He rolled his hips upwards in emphasis, coaxing forth a throbbing pulse against your splayed palm. "Ya want this just as bad as I do, sensei. No more lyin' to ourselves, yeah?"

With that heated promise hanging in the electrically charged air, Hoshina's large hands settled on your waist, coaxing you to straddle his muscular thigh. You let yourself be guided, too far gone to protest as your own arousal soaked through the thin fabric of your panties.

Hoshina groaned at the damp, silken heat of you against his skin, eyes burning with a dark, hungry flame. "Fuck, the things ya do to me, sensei," he growled, rocking you in a slow grind over his thigh. "Feel what ya do to me. Feel how hard I am, just from the taste of yer sweet lips."

His words painted a sinfully vivid picture, and you couldn't help but rock against him, chasing that delicious friction. Your eyes drifted closed, lips parting on a silent gasp as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of Hoshina's body pressed against yours, his thigh muscles shifting and flexing under you.

You didn't resist when he coaxed your shirt up and over your head, the air-conditioned infirmary temperature doing little to cool your burning skin. Hoshina's eyes were dark and ravenous as they roamed over the lace-clad curves of your breasts, lingering on the hardened peaks straining against the thin fabric.

"Such a naughty little slut, wearing this pretty little number under yer work clothes," he rasped, the words sending a hot, pulsing ache through your core. "Were ya tryin' to get me worked up, sensei?"

You bit your lip, unable to deny the thrill of forbidden heat at the way Hoshina's voice roughened and darkened with unspoken hunger. His large, calloused palms skimmed up the length of your torso, thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts. The light, teasing friction made your nipples tighten even further, the fabric scraping deliciously over the sensitive buds.

"Soshiro, please," you whimpered, the words tapering off into a soft, choked moan as he captured one lace-covered nipple between his lips, suckling you through the thin barrier.

His answering groan reverberated against the stiff peak, his tongue flicking and swirling over the lace. Each hot, insistent lap made the ache between your legs intensify, the silky friction of your panties becoming unbearable. You were desperate for some form of relief, the pressure and wetness between your thighs becoming unbearable.

Hoshina seemed to sense your growing urgency, his teeth and lips dragging torturously along the slope of your breasts until his mouth was mere inches from your own. His dark, hungry gaze burned into yours as his fingers toyed with the waistband of your skirt, slowly sliding it lower over the curve of your hips.

"Gotta say, I didn't expect to catch ya wearin' somethin' so damn sexy under here, sensei," he rasped, the words vibrating against the column of your throat. "You've been driving me outta my damn mind, parading around in that damn lab coat and those little skirts, lookin' all professional and innocent. I've been wanting to bend ya over every flat surface in this infirmary, fuck ya until yer creaming on my cock."

Hoshina's filthy, shameless words only heightened your own arousal, making the ache between your thighs throb. The image he painted was beyond decadent, the idea of his large, calloused hands spreading you wide open, filling you up, making you ache.

Your fingers found their way to his shoulders, digging into the hard muscle as you rocked against his thigh. Your panties were soaked, the friction maddening, but not nearly enough to satisfy the throbbing need between your thighs.

Hoshina smirked, clearly enjoying your eager desperation. His tongue traced a hot, wet path along the curve of your ear before he pulled back, just far enough to meet your hooded stare.

"Who knew my little medic was such a filthy slut," he taunted, voice rough with lust. "Ya're soakin' wet, grindin' yerself on me like some bitch in heat. I've barely touched ya, and you're already about to cum. Ya gonna come for me, sensei? Right here, right now, on my thigh?"

You bit your lip to hold back the shameless, desperate noises threatening to spill from your lips. Your body was wound so tight, teetering on the precipice of blissful release. With just a few more strokes, you knew you'd tip over the edge, lose yourself in the pleasure of his body against yours.

But then, with maddening precision, Hoshina's hands grasped your hips, stilling your movement. Your eyes flew open in dazed, protesting shock, a whimpery exhalation slipping through parted lips as you met his heavy-lidded gaze.

"Please," you whispered, not caring how needy you sounded. You were too far gone, too lost in the sensations swirling through you, to care about anything other than the sweet oblivion you'd been so close to finding. "Please, Soshiro."

"Shh," he crooned, stroking his thumb across the ridge of your hip bone. "I'm gonna give ya what ya need, sensei. Ya know I will. I always take good care of my subordinates, right?"

Without warning, Hoshina's hands were on your waist, lifting you off his thigh. Your protests died in your throat as he settled you atop the examination table, the cold metal surface against your bare back sending a shock of goosebumps over your skin.

"But," Hoshina murmured, eyes blazing with molten promise as he stood between your parted thighs, "I'm done taking it easy on ya. Now it's time for you to give me what I want."

As if to emphasize his point, Hoshina's hand slipped between your legs, his knuckles grazing the damp seam of your panties. Your breath caught in your throat, hips arching reflexively towards the teasing contact.

Hoshina smirked, eyes burning with smug, possessive triumph. "Mm, I love how fucking soaked ya are. You've been cravin' this, haven't ya, sensei?"

As you gazed up at him, wide-eyed and flushed, his large, calloused hands slid the fabric aside. You could feel the heated dampness of your core, your inner thighs slippery with arousal. Hoshina's eyes darkened as he drank in the sight, his breathing growing noticeably uneven.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, tracing the slick seam of your folds with the pad of his thumb. "So wet and perfect. Fuck, I've been thinking about this for so long."

Hoshina's voice trailed off into a low, guttural groan, his cock twitching against the straining confines of his underwear.You let out a soft whine as he suddenly slipped his thumb inside, his thick digit sinking easily into your silken heat.

Your back arched off the examination table, fingers scrabbling for purchase as his thumb thrust shallowly, spreading your arousal over the aching bud of your clit. Every nerve in your body felt overstimulated, the tension coiling tighter with every pass of his thumb, every teasing circle over the bundle of nerves.

"Such a sweet, obedient slut," he murmured, dark and filthy, the words dripping over you like heated wax. "Look at ya, spreadin' yer legs so wide for me. You're a medic, aren't ya? What if one of the boys needed a check-up right now, hmm? Ya think you could be a professional little doctor while I'm buried inside you?"

The thought was maddening, forbidden, and the mental image it conjured made a fresh wave of heat flood your core. Your breath caught in your throat, muscles tensing, and Hoshina sensed it immediately. He eased off, smirking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"That's it," he murmured, withdrawing his thumb, slick and glistening with your arousal. "You're so close, aren't you, sensei? I can feel it. Yer pussy's clenching around nothing, just aching for something to fill ya up."

Before you could respond, his thumb was replaced with two fingers, sinking into you with slow, deliberate pressure. You bit your lip to stifle a whimper, your back arching off the cold metal table. The slight chill was a shocking contrast to the heat pulsing through you, and you welcomed the dichotomy, the delicious push-and-pull of the two sensations.

"Please," you whimpered, beyond the point of embarrassment. Your body was trembling, every inch of you tingling with a desperate need for release. "I'm so close, I can't-"

Your plea was cut off by a strangled moan as Hoshina added a third finger, the stretch deliciously intense. His pace quickened, fingers pumping in and out with relentless precision.

"C'mon, sensei," he coaxed, his other hand stroking your thigh with firm, possessive sweeps. "Be a good girl and cum for me. Lemme feel ya."

You bit back a choked cry as his palm ground against your aching clit, the friction sending a white-hot rush of pleasure through your veins. Hoshina's fingers curled within you, brushing a spot that made your vision blur.

Your orgasm hit you in a blinding rush, sending wave after wave of heat pulsing through you. Hoshina groaned as you squirted all over his hand, your release soaking the exam table beneath you.

"Fuck," he growled, fingers still working within you, coaxing your climax to a shattering peak. "Just look at the mess you made. What a filthy little slut. That feel good, sensei?"

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words as your body trembled with aftershocks. Hoshina finally relented, withdrawing his fingers with a self-satisfied smirk. His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded as they met yours, his hand rising to his mouth as he licked your arousal from his skin with lewd, exaggerated slowness.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, eyes glinting with predatory heat as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them off and leaving you completely bare.

The coldness air-conditioned room felt like a shock to your system, and you couldn't help shivering as Hoshina's dark, intent gaze raked over you. Your cheeks flushed with awareness, a strange mix of shyness and exhilaration at being spread out on the examination table for the Vice-Captain's pleasure.

"Soshiro..." you managed, your voice shaky and slightly hoarse from the exertion. "No more...I can't-"

"Tch. As if a greedy little thing like you would ever be satisfied with just one orgasm."

You felt a fresh gush of wetness between your thighs, your body betraying your excitement at Hoshina's words. Your core throbbed with renewed need, and you couldn't help shifting restlessly on the metal table.

"Hmm, someone's eager." Hoshina's smirk was downright sinful, the dark gleam in his eyes unmistakable as his hands slid to his waistband, finally shucking his boxers and baring himself completely.

You couldn't help gasping as his cock sprang free, the thick, swollen length bobbing heavily between his legs. Precum oozed from the tip, the viscous fluid dribbling over the rigid, veiny shaft. Hoshina's chuckle was a low, dangerous rumble, the sound reverberating through your bones as he stepped closer, positioning himself between your parted thighs.

"What's the matter, sensei? Afraid it won't fit?" His tone was mocking, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of truth to his words. You felt a flutter of apprehension in your belly, your inner walls clenching instinctively at the thought of his considerable size.

Before you could reply, Hoshina had lined himself up, the swollen head of his cock pressing against your dripping folds. He gave a slow, insistent thrust, the chubby tip sinking in with ease. You gasped, fingers digging into his forearms, as the initial discomfort began to ebb, giving way to a pleasurable fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his jaw going slack as the first few inches were enveloped in your welcoming heat. "God, you're tight. How long has it been, sensei? Too busy being a good little doctor to take care of yerself properly?"

You were too overwhelmed by the sensation of Hoshina's cock splitting you open to form a response. Your nails dug into his biceps, blunt crescents in the muscled flesh, as you struggled to adjust to his impressive size.

"Don't worry, sensei, I'll take care of ya."

As if to prove his point, Hoshina gave another deep, insistent thrust. This time, his cock slid home, sinking into you until the coarse thatch of hair at the base of his shaft brushed against your slick folds. You cried out, the pleasure-pain of the stretch sending a rush of heat straight to your core.

"Fuck, would ya look at that," he groaned, rocking his hips, his eyes riveted on the spot where the skin of your stomach stretched taut, the slight bump visible where his cock was buried deep. "My cock is so fuckin' deep inside ya. I can feel it pressin' up against yer damn womb."

Your eyes rolled back in your head at his filthy, shameless words, the heat inside you intensifying with each rough snap of his hips. You were dimly aware of the sound of skin slapping against skin, the harsh groans rumbling from Hoshina's throat, but all you could focus on was the thick, heavy drag of his cock inside you, the sensation of being filled up, stretched wide open.

"Such a good little doctor," he growled, voice roughened with lust as he fucked into you with merciless, punishing strokes. "Always so fuckin' professional. No one would ever guess you're such a cock-hungry whore."

His words were vulgar, filthy, and you should've been ashamed of how much they turned you on, how his debauched depiction made the pressure in your core tighten. Instead, you couldn't help the moans that spilled from your lips, the shameless noises mingling with the sounds of skin against skin and Hoshina's grunts.

"S-Soshiro," you whimpered, fingers scrabbling at his back as his thrusts grew faster, deeper, his pelvis grinding against yours in a delicious friction that made your toes curl. "I'm close, I'm gonna..."

"That's right," he panted, voice rough and strained as he fucked you harder, faster, his hips snapping with frantic urgency. "Be a good girl and cum on my cock, sensei. Squirt all over me, let me feel ya."

You lost yourself in the sensation, the pressure in your core tightening impossibly until it finally snapped. Your vision went white as you came, hard and sudden, a gush of fluid squirting out and drenching Hoshina's pelvis.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he chased his own release. His cock plunged into you with reckless abandon, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you with a deep, primal grunt.

"Oh God," you whimpered, shuddering as the aftershocks rippled through you, your inner walls clenching and milking Hoshina's throbbing length.

"Fuck," he breathed, chest heaving as he pulled out. You couldn't help whimpering at the loss, your core still throbbing and needy, aching to be filled.

You could only watch, wide-eyed and sated, as Hoshina stepped back, raking his hand through his sweat-dampened locks. His expression was one of smug satisfaction as his eyes roved over your bare, spent form, the sight of you so thoroughly debauched seemingly cementing his self-assured sense of conquest.

"Well, sensei," he drawled, a slow, predatory smile spreading over his lips. "I'd say that was a pretty thorough examination. I trust everything seems to be in working order?"

You could only laugh weakly, the sound trailing off into a soft sigh as he bent over, claiming your lips in a tender kiss. His tongue swept against yours, tasting you, the intimacy a stark contrast to the filth and debauchery of the past hour.

"Thank you, sensei," he murmured, the words a gentle rumble against your lips. "I’ll be back later tonight for another…check-up."

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript

Machine, I need to know if you're a top or a bottom for the chat and totally just for the chat.

And not for in lore slash game reasons.

Audio source

[exhaslo]

English is not my first language, so I hope I can speak it correctly. I imagined a story where the shy!reader has hot dreams about Miguel, and for some "reason" (Lyla), Miguel finds out and decides to tease the reader until everything ends in an NSFW way. I hope I have given you the idea within the appropriate terms.

Hehehe, no worries my friend. I know just what to write.

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, teasing, slow sex, masturbation, fingering, wet dreams, overstimulation

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This obsession you were having with one of your co-workers was getting out of hand. You knew it was a long shot that you could ever have a chance with the one and only, Miguel O'hara, but you couldn't stop dreaming about him.

Miguel O'hara was the smartest man in Alchemax. He was in charge of nearly everything that had to do with genetics. Every woman wanted to be his, hell, even men wanted a piece of that hot ass.

You? You were part of ordering team. It was a blessing and a curse, mainly because you got to talk with Miguel a lot more than others. You had to get with him to see what materials he needed. You loved it, but also hated it.

Why?

Because each time you talked to Miguel helped you dream of him fucking you raw. His hands pinning your head down against your pillow as he plows you from behind. The thought of his dick filling you again and again made your pussy throb.

His husky voice whispering in your ear, asking you who you belonged too. His balls emptying out inside your womb, coating your walls white.

Drool nearly rolled down your lips as your fingers rested gently against your throbbing bud. Oh, how Miguel O'Hara made your mind wander to the dirtiest parts. It was difficult because you knew something as glorious as that could never happen.

When you got home, you had nothing better to do than record your thoughts. Unlike the past where people wrote in a diary, the year 2099 made things easier. You summoned your AI and set it to recording mode, ready to talk about your wildest fantasies.

"Ah, and when Miguel's hand grazed mind when he handed me the list...mhm...I couldn't help but think how those fingers would feel inside me. Why does he have to be so hot? I can't mutter a word to him about anything other than work!"

You whined and cried as you let your frustrations out in your virtual diary. It wasn't fair. You wanted Miguel to notice you as a woman. You wanted him to ask you out. To make you his.

But who knows whenever that will happen.

---------

Miguel was stuck in his lab, working on some late projects before calling it a night. As he worked, he recalled you. Smiling at how shy you were, Miguel leaned back in his seat. Out of all the girls who fawned over him, Miguel enjoyed you the most.

The way your cheeks turned bright red whenever he spoke was adorable. How you doze off and let your mind wander only made Miguel curious. What could you be thinking of when he was standing before you?

"Lyla, could you find a way to contact (Y/N)? I want to add something to the list." Miguel demanded.

"Hmm," Lyla appeared and started to work, "Oh, looks like she is in recording mode with her AI. Let me patch us in-"

"Ly'a, don't! That's her-"

"Hah, ah~ M-Miguel..."

Miguel froze as Lyla hacked into your recording AI. His eyes widen and cock harden as you laid on your bed, fingered working furiously against your clit. Your body arching as you whimpered moans and cries of his name.

"Ah~ R-Right there....mhm~ h-harder M-Miguel...f-fill me up~!" You cried out before reaching your orgasm.

Miguel shuddered in awe as he watched your pussy spasm and clench to air. Your breathing heavy as you laid down to rest. You took a moment to sit up, whining softly before complaining that you needed to stop thinking about Miguel since he could never be yours.

Oh how wrong you were.

Miguel had Lyla turn everything off. He logged out and hurried out of Alchemax. How could he work when there was a beauty such as yourself desperate for his dick? Miguel had been wanting to make you his since the moment you spoke to him.

Hopefully you were ready for him.

----------

You laid on your bed, sniffing your thoughts away. Your recording ended much differently than you would like. Luckily it was your own personal diary, but you still should probably delete it in case something ever happens.

Upon hearing a knock at your door, you scurried to grab a robe. Who could it be at this late hour? Poking through your door peep hole, you gasped as Miguel stood in front of your door. Hurrying to open, you nearly forget about your exposed self,

"M-Miguel?! W-What....What are you doing here?" You asked with a squeak.

"Sorry-" Miguel glanced down at you, "I, um...came here without thinking."

"Oh...Well..." You could feel your heart racing a mile a minute, "W-Why don't you come in...let me get you some water."

---------

How could you be so carefree? There you were, in nothing but a robe, after just fucking yourself to him. If Miguel didn't have his spider powers this might have been a different scene playing out. Oh, the temptation to pin you against the counter and fuck you stupid.

"Actually...I need to confess something to you."

Miguel needed to control himself. Perhaps he could tease you a bit about what he saw. Perhaps he could make this a bit more natural and playful.

"Lyla-My AI, may have accidently showed me something that is confidential for you." Miguel said as he cleared his throat. The blood had drained from your face,

"L-Like?!"

"Like," Miguel smiled as he hovered over your trembling body, "You crying out so sweetly."

"Ah!" You covered your face as it turned bright red. Miguel leaned down, chuckling lowly,

"Who would have thought those hands of yours could move so fast?"

"M-Miguel-"

"I couldn't help but feel awful for putting you in such a....position," Miguel nibbled against your ear, hearing you whine, "Such a quiet girl making those noises...how naughty."

-------

You could feel your head spinning as Miguel pressed his body against yours. The warmth of his body engulfing yours as his voice whispered against your ear. Everything about this scene was making you wet.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Miguel chuckled as his hands circled around your waist,

"Mhm~ A long time," You admitted, feeling flustered by his teasing.

"Oh? Do you touch yourself like that every night?"

Your robe was starting to come undone as your body went on full display for Miguel. His head against your head, causing you to press your chest against his.

"Y-Yes," You stuttered.

"How naughty."

Miguel chuckled once more as he kissed your neck. Your robe had fallen on the floor and Miguel's hands were firmly on your waist. His leg pushed forward, causing your pussy to sit against it. You whimpered a whine as he kept pushing his leg against your wet cunt.

"What an honest body," Miguel hummed as his hands grouped your breasts, "And here I was about to ask if you want me to stop."

"No." You begged before tugging against his sleeve, "Please...Please fuck me."

-------

This was heaven on earth. Never had you thought this moment was ever going to happen.

However, you expected it a lot faster and rougher than this.

"A-Ah~ M-Miguel~~" You cried out.

Miguel was hovered over your naked body like a god. Your legs were thrown over his shoulder and his cock was deep inside you. Miguel's body was even more perfect than you ever dreamed of. His dick was far bigger than your wildest dreams.

"Hm? Don't like it slow?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he slowly pulled out with a grunt, "Your pussy is sucking me in so much. Thought I give it a nice treat."

"Hah~ s-so deep..." You whimpered as he pushed himself back in.

Miguel's slow movements was making your body heated. The tight knot in your stomach was far different from what you've ever done to yourself. His dick was kissing every part of your pussy you didn't even know existed.

"Awe, about to cum?" Miguel asked as you shivered from his slow thrust.

You wanted him to ravish you. You wanted him to make you see stars, not make you go crazy. Gasping as Miguel rubbed your clit, you cried as you gushed all over his cock. Your walls sucking him in more, begging for him to fill you.

Miguel could only chuckle as he kissed your body. His hands roaming everywhere as you calmed down from your high. Miguel pressed his hips closer, hitting you deeper than what he was prior. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.

"Is this everything you've ever dreamed of?" Miguel asked with a soft pant.

"Mhm~"

You were squirming slightly as Miguel continued his slow, yet deep thrusts inside you. Your vision was slightly blurry as your body started to shiver, but you could have sworn that Miguel was groaning. He wanted to go faster too.

"M-Miguel...y-you can...mhm~ go r-rough~" You cooed. Miguel licked your neck, biting against it softly,

"You better not regret it then."

Before you could say a word, you gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's pace became rough. His dick slamming into your gummy walls, making loud lewd sounds filled the room. Your juices soaking the bed sheets under you as he kept hitting that sweet spot you've gone nuts over.

Your moans became loud and pornographic as Miguel gave you no time to rest. You had cummed again, coating his cock white as he continued to ram into you. You body shaking and jolting with each thrust as your sensitivity grew.

"How lewd," Miguel groaned against your ear as his hips slapped into yours, "Don't know bout you, but I wouldn't mind getting used to this."

"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes!" You cried out.

Miguel chuckled as you started to arch your back. Your expression getting more expressive as you started to get fucked out. Biting his lower lip, Miguel grunted as he bottomed out inside of you. His eyes sparkled as your mouth made a cute 'o' form.

"Now, how could I stop with just one?"

You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets as Miguel flipped you over. Your head pressed against the pillow as he went balls deep inside you. Your body shaking in rhythm to his rough thrusts as you enjoyed the feeling of his cum pouring inside you.

"Ah~ Mig~"

You were in heaven. All you could focus on was how good your pussy felt with each thrust. How good Miguel was at hitting each sweet spot you had. You shook in pleasure as you felt Miguel cum inside you again, groaning to your moans.

"(Y/N), next time you think of me....call me so I can show you how to feel good."

"Yesh~" You cooed.

-------

Miguel chuckled as you fell asleep after his last load. Honestly, he could keep going with his stamina, but you weren't ready for that yet. Carefully picking you up, Miguel made sure to wash you up and change your bedsheets before tucking you in.

He may have went a little overboard. But you didn't mind. Smiling as he covered you in the blanket, Miguel kissed your head before heading out.

"See you tomorrow, (Y/N)."

Of course, Miguel took your panties home as a souvinier.

You weren't the only one who had wet dreams.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Tell me how you hate me now (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Scientist! Reader) Drabble

Hiiii, so I know I said I’d focus on my main series and I am! But I just had to whip this up after my comment thread from my last post. In my head I imagine this being with Miguel from the game Edge of Time but it can be any Miguel variant. Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, workplace enemies to lovers, the girls are arguing 🤭, make out session, slight NSFW (just some ass squeezing) but no smut.

Word count: 750

Masterlist

—

“O’Hara! Hey O’Hara!” You called out to the figure that sat alone in the lab room. Your irrational only building when you didn’t get a response, not even a glance in your direction. Your pace quicken, white lab coat flaring out behind you as you close the gap between you and the other scientist. Angrily dropping a Manila folder onto his desk, the force of which made a few of his own papers fly a few inches off his desk. Finally making him look up at you with huff and a scowl.

You two have been working together for the last twelve years at Alchemax, and never had you two gotten alone. Always fighting about projects, butting heads about deadlines, everything about and between you both always ended with fighting and arguing.

“Do you know what this is?” The question was rhetorical, a manicured finger pointing at the file that had the name of your last project proposal printed on top. Your angry gaze on his face never wavering as you watch his tired eyes lazily drop to the folder, before looking up at you once more rather boredly.

“Your last project proposal?” He deadpanned.

“Yes, my last project proposal.” You scoffed, “The one that got rejected because you decided to bad mouth it to Stone.” You glared at him, feeling your blood pressure rising higher than it already was as you stood up straight and crossed your arms over your chest. Your eyes immediately connected with his brown ones as he turned his swivel chair to face you properly, arms coping your mannerisms as you both had a miniature stare down before he finally spoke.

“You're acting like this thing-“ he abruptly stood up, making you instinctively take a step back. Grabbing the proposal and using the back of his other hand to lightly hit the folder before dropping it back onto his desk. The pages spilling out from the hazardous manner, making your blood boil. “wasn't already garbage-“

“Garbage?!”

“Garbage.”

You had to close your eyes and take in a deep breath to stop yourself from lunging at the large man, wanting to tear him a new one. Once you were able to calm yourself down enough you looked back up at him. Despite his towering size over you, you didn’t find him all that intimidating.

“You’re just saying that because you wanted him to pick your project over mine-and don’t say I’m making shit up because you always do it, that’s how you got your project chosen last time!”

“Oh please, god forbid I don’t want to work under you for the next six months. It’s too chaotic! Just thinking about it gives me a migraine…” As if for dramatic effect, a hand goes up and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Oh yeah, because you’re so pleasant to be working for.” You rolled your eyes, sarcasm dripping from your mouth like venom from a snake’s. “If an intern so much as breathes the wrong way, you lose it.” You're too busy ranting to notice he was making his way towards you. “And don’t even get me started on how you micromanage everything-“

You were cut off by the sudden warmth of lips on yours, eyes wide as you blinked yourself back into the current moment. You had to be dreaming right? Why else would Miguel be kissing you. You didn’t even get to fully process the action before you felt his large hand slip to the small of your back, gently guiding you to make sure you didn’t trip over your own feet as he pushed you up against the wall.

Yeah you weren’t dreaming.

He licks your bottom lip in a silent plea to let him in, you couldn’t help but to melt into the kiss. Once the initial shock finally wore off, your body began to feel hot all over. Eyes flickering shut as your hands landed on his chest, running up to lock around his neck, no doubt leaving wrinkles in their wake. His hand came down to give your ass a firm squeeze, making you involuntarily moan at the movement.

You felt like you could drown in him, he pulled away for air before you got the chance too.

“Been wanting to kiss that pretty mouth shut for a long time.” He admitted between heavy breaths, “tell me how you hate me now with my tongue down your throat.” He taunted playfully, before closing the gap between your lips once more.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Motorboats | 18+

Imma be frfr ever since the workout outfits came out and I saw Rafayel running, all I've wanted to do was just grab his boobies and just fejekhsfu. Since the game doesn't allow me to do that, I'm writing it. Anyway, it's unhinged time, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Suggestive Themes, playing with men's chesticles, crack fic

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

This man, this poor man hadn't a single clue as to what you were about to do. It was Xavier's fault though, in all honesty. He insisted on walking around the apartment without a shirt on after his workout. A towel slung over his shoulders and his hair dripping onto his chest after his show.

It was enough to drive you absolutely mad, especially when you noticed how nice his boobs looked. So you acted on impulse. Slowly walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around him. Your face was pressed between his shoulder blades while you waited for him to react.

When Xavier turned around, you knew it was your time. Time to accomplish what you were born to do. Without so much as a warning, you placed your hand on his pecks and shoved your face between them. Squeezing them together before rubbing your face between them and making an obnoxious motorboat noise.

It was beautiful. Glorious even. His chest was softer than you imagined despite them being nothing but pure muscle. He smelled like his body wash still and he was cool to the touch. Everything about this moment solidified that it was the best day ever for you.

The action was enough for Xavier to flinch back from your touch, looking down at you with wide eyes as he processed what you did. Your shit eating grin couldn't be contained...until you saw a small, seemingly innocent smile grace Xavier's face.

"Is it my turn now?"

Zayne

Your poor, sweet, and loving doctor. Words couldn't describe your affection towards the man as you watched him hunch over his desk, getting some paperwork done as you waited patiently for your check up. Your beloved Zayne...and his abnormally slutty outfit of the day.

Sure it wasn't technically slutty, but as you looked at the doctor you couldn't help your eyes as they wandered down his form. His lab coat was open, revealing a black turtle neck shirt underneath. The cherry on top were the straps going around his chest that helped accentuate his pectorals.

"Something you need?" The man in question just glanced up at you after noticing your gaze.

"What me? I'm just waiting on you..."

Your sentence seemed to finally kickstart Zayne's appointment with you as he got up and walked over to the examination table. He grabbed his stethoscope, ready to measure your heart.

"Then shame on me for keeping you waiting."

As he went to place it over your chest, you stopped him. Your hand going towards his own chest. It was just so damn tempting. Zayne looked down at you with a questioning gaze. You couldn't help yourself. With him leaning over you, he was at the perfect height.

You took your hands and went to squeeze at his chest, quickly shoving your face between then and motorboating the poor man. The doctor was stunned, standing there as you finished up with a chuckle. You leaned back to see the slight red dusting his cheeks and ears.

"I hope you're happy with yourself."

Oh he had no idea.

Rafayel

It wasn't often that you found yourself blatantly staring directly at Rafayel. Normally you tried to keep your gaze at least a touch subtle, but today there was absolutely no helping it. You made the mistake of asking him to work out with you since you didn't feel like doing it alone. Besides, despite how much he complained about working out, he had muscles that had to be earned from more than just swimming. He also had a small gym set up, which sure as hell beat going to the actual gym.

What you weren't prepared for was his outfit. The skin tight, sleeveless black top left nothing to the imagination. You could see the outline of his nipples and whenever the man would run you saw his chest literally jiggling. It was making you absolutely feral that you didn't realize you had stopped your own workout just to stare at his chest.

When Rafayel noticed he went to a walk and turned to you, "Something caught your attention?" that smug smile would be wiped off his face if you had anything to say about that.

"Ya...come over here. I need your help with something."

Rafayel was more than happy to get off the treadmill, taking a break as he panted slightly. The faint sheen of sweat coating him wasn't helping your thought process at all. The moment he stood in front of you, you couldn't hold back.

Your hands reached towards his chest and your face went between them perfectly. You pushed them together and gave them a harsh squeeze as you rubbed your face between them, making the motorboating noise. As soon as Rafayel knew what was happening he jumped back from you, his arms going to cover his chest. His entire face was red as he gaped at you like a fish out of water. He looked absolutely scandalized.

"What was that for?!"

"Let me do it again. Get back here you coward!" You said as you took a step forward, your hand making the grabby motion. You swore that Rafayel's scream in horror was the best noise ever. If he thought the treadmill was bad, he had no idea how rough it would be running away from you.

[weskie]

Relief (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

900 words | hurt/comfort themes | Fic Directory

His first injection did not go smoothly. 

Albert Wesker is a man of many strengths, but even God is not always immune to the trials and tribulations of laboratory science. Especially not when said science is meant to enhance what makes him so special. 

Yet here you were, one of his chosen. But you knew better than to think of yourself so highly; chances are you're simply a pawn. You know cunning and deceit when you see it, and he stinks to high heaven of such dark qualities. 

Excella gives him the first dose of the supressant, a concoction designed to give him perfect control over the virus in his body.  It is measured precisely based on her own studies and calculations. However, pride kept her from allowing anyone else to analyze her work. There's no immediate response, and she smiles happily. 

And yet you know better, because you had seen her work. Compared to your own, she was way off– as you tried to tell her. She’d been careless with her decimals, a simple mistake with grave consequences. But you are lower on the totem pole. Your word doesn't matter until hers proves to be no good. 

She probably regrets ignoring you when his face twitches, teeth clenching as he grips the edge of his chair, howling the first of many exclamations of harrowing pain. 

“Albert! I–”

But his hand goes around her throat in a mere flash, silencing her, halting any attempt to touch him. 

“You– gah!” He snarls, eyes flaring a deep, fiery red around his cat-like pupils. He drops her and, in turn, falls to the floor himself. Wesker hunches over on his knees, wails of agony leaving him as he clenches his chest and head. 

The virus coursing through his body is being assaulted by an overdose of the suppressant, turning it more volatile and painful by the minute. Balance was key, and he had been thrown far from it. 

There is no counter agent, no painkiller, no balm to soothe his agony– for what could ever help a god?  Both you and Excella watch him writhe, but her fear keeps her from doing like you. 

You're not even sure why you did it. 

You sit behind him, legs splayed, and you pull him back to lean against you. His animalistic growls and pained, gasping breaths fill your ears, but all you do is hold him tight like some sort of human restraint. 

Excella stares at you as if you'd lost your mind. 

Perhaps you have. 

A gloved hand grips your forearm with a force so punishing that it makes you yelp. He could break you with one finger, but he's clearly holding back. He could tear you limb from limb even now for invading his space like this. 

But he doesn't. 

“Breathe, Mister Wesker,” you say. You have his honorific wrong– it's doctor– but surely nobody in the room cares to notice. “It will pass, but you must breathe.” 

A growl and seemingly involuntary jerk of his body disrupts your words, but you hold tight nonetheless. 

You do so for nearly an hour.  Against every tremor, against every wave of pain the likes of which you could never imagine. The only noises to be heard are his tight breaths and the hum of fluorescent laboratory lights. 

Sometime in the middle of things, Excella scurried off to fix her mistake. She begged for forgiveness, but he shot her a look that made her go as white as a ghost. 

The sleeves of your lab coat are shredded, arms bruised, and Wesker himself looks no better. It's as if all the fight had been torn out of him and he was no stronger than any mere mortal. The grip on your forearm is leagues lighter. 

He's probably going to kill you for touching him like this. For reducing him to some helpless infant in need of comfort and support. 

His breaths have steadied. 

Somehow you'd brought your free hand up to thumb at his cheekbone. Some odd, inappropriate manner of soothing his pains. 

“Mister Wesker, I–”

“Save it.” He says, cutting you off. Even his voice sounds weak. That fancy edge to it is gone almost entirely. 

He's clearly awake and aware. Why isn't he moving away? Hell, why aren't you moving away? 

“It was in your best interest to assist me.” 

He's posturing, repositioning his authority despite what had just happened.  Your thumb stops moving and that hand around your forearm grips tighter. When you resume, it slackens. 

“Bold of you to have done this,” he hums. “And all this time I thought you lacked a spine.” 

You're not sure what to say to such a statement. You're not sure what he's getting at either. A punishment? A reward? You can practically hear a smirk in his words despite the fact it was nowhere in sight. 

“I can feel you shaking.” 

Shit. 

“Hm…” Wesker releases a sigh, something you've never heard from him before. “Tell you what, pet.” 

Pet? Pet? 

“Continue your little ministrations until I am on my feet, and I will consider your crimes forgiven.”

What? He wants you to keep this up? 

“Does that sound satisfactory?” He asks. “Answer me, pet.” 

With wide eyes and shaking hands, you nod. 

“Y-Yes, Mister Wesker!”

“Good, good... Now, what punishment has Miss Gionne earned for herself, hm?” 

[opultea]

Where's My Kiss?

Genshin men see you kiss something, and can't help but want one for themselves... ft. Dottore, Zhongli

Fluff - Romantic - SFW - GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Drabbles

Warning: Very slight swearing in Dottore’s part

Part 2 - ft. Gorou, Wanderer

Dottore

Your husband had been on his official trip to Sumeru for some time now, and before his departure, he naturally left you and the segments to continue the work in the lab. Although you had been working with Dottore for years in his experimentation and lab work, it still filled you with pride to know he trusted you enough to leave the work in your hands for a time, especially with how commanding he liked to be.

Dottore was due to return today, and as thrilled as you were at the thought of seeing him again, you thought it best to throw yourself into your work until his homecoming. After all, the more you could complete before his inevitable inspection of your progress, the better.

You called on one of the younger segments today, many of the older versions of your husband away in meetings or on official business. You knew that some of them were not as happy as you to know Prime was returning, so you let them take their time away. The younger segment, Theta, looked just like your dear lover when he was straight out of being expelled from the Akademiya on account of manslaughter and the propagation of unethical sciences. Ah, what cherished memories.

The two of you set to work, yourself constantly and eagerly glancing at the clock, anxious about Dottore's return. Theta sees this but makes no comment, that is until about another five of your time-checks.

"Ugh, will you stop that! I can't imagine why you'd even be so eager for him to come back, it's not as if he cares about us!" The outburst felt rather sudden, making you step away from the machinery in front of you for a moment.

"Whatever do you mean, Theta?"

"It's not as if you of all people would understand, he wouldn't say a thing against you if you decided never to pick up a beaker again! But we just get all his tasks that he can't bother with, and then a scrutinous comment about how it should have been done! He never cares to acknowledge that we are just as intelligent as he is, that bloody-"

Theta saunters around the lab, raising his arms and yelling in frustration. Before he went too bold with his exclamations, you decided to step in and calm him down. Theta’s situation with Prime would only worsen if he came back in to find him insulting his name.

You stepped around Theta's tense form, gently placing your hands on his shoulders to ease them, moving slowly as you smoothed his coat down.

"Come now, Theta. He's not so bad, and I'm sure he understands exactly how much you are truly worth, he was you, at one time, you know," Theta melts a touch at your soft voice and caress, but holds his grimace.

"Hm. As if the ancient bastard remembers,"

"Hey, that's enough of that," You pout, causing the segment to tense his jaw and look away, crossing his arms with a huff. "Theta?"

"I... apologise," he hisses, but you smile even despite the delivery. You cup Theta's face and press a kiss on his cheek, the clone's face reddening and his body tensing back up.

"What in Teyvat are you doing?"

The two of you turn to the door, where a bitter-faced Zandik stood, apparently just having entered, and just having returned to Snezhnaya.

You immediately separate from the segment to greet your husband happily, although his gaze did not leave Theta's unmoving form.

"You. Leave. Now." Theta huffed at the order from the Doctor, yet obeyed all the same.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dottore turned to stand over you, his intimidating frame not quite so for you. How could you be frightened when the object of your affection was finally here?

"What was that?" he questioned harshly.

"He looked like he needed it."

A silence overtook you, neither of you needing to move nor speak for the conversation to continue across your minds.

"Do you need one too?"

"I do not need anything. Although I fully intend on taking what I want."

You hardly had a moment to process before the doctors hand firmly clasped the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his. You blinked, but eventually relaxed, allowing you and your husband to indulge in reuniting.

The two of you parted, and you smiled as you brushed his bangs away from his mask.

“Welcome home, Zandik,”

Zhongli

After leaving the Funeral Parlor for the evening, locking up and leaving behind a hard day's work, Zhongli's immediate first thought was to find you. His beloved partner, who loved him enough to step down from godhood alongside him, who had been loving him for centuries, and promised with a gold band never to stop.

There were only a few places you would be at this time of day, but Zhongli knew that with the bright sunset and cool breeze, you'd likely be gazing over the world at the height of Jueyun Karst. An old habit of yours that never died was to watch the world from above, especially as it turned dark and the stars took watch. As the god of clouds, it was natural that you had an affinity for the spires of rock that Zhongli had created in his youth.

You laughed bashfully when he told you many centuries after he’d made them that one of his motivations for doing so had been to impress you, and the other to have an excuse to be closer to your domain.

The memory made the former god smile as he walked through the plains of Liyue, admiring the scenery and the image of you in his mind. It wasn't long before Zhongli was stepping up the slope of Qingyun Peak, looking around expectantly, waiting for you to come into his view. And when you finally did, he couldn't help but stop to stare.

Zhongli let a sighing breath out through his smile, watching as you gracefully kneeled to inspect the bud of a qingxin flower. It seemed that the others around it were in full bloom, but this particular flower was falling a little behind. Zhongli watched with interest as your brow furrowed in worry before you leaned your head down, and gave the bud the lightest peck.

Even with your stepping down from heavenly grace you still held a great deal of power, and from your simple touch, the flower grew taller, its stem widening and leaves unfurling with its petals. Soon, the small bud had become a fully bloomed qingxin, shining pure white under the moon. Zhongli felt his heart expand in his chest at your action. It seemed that no amount of time spent with you could prepare him for how much he loved and admired you. His gaze was particularly attached to your lips, teasing him with the softness they portrayed when you blessed the flower with their touch.

It was at this time that you raised your head and spotted your husband, chuckling at his awed smile. You approached silently, head bowed but smile apparent.

"Hello good sir, what pray tell might you be hoping to gain by ascending the sacred stones of Jueyun Karst?" You tease, stopping just short of leaning against the man.

"Why, I had no intention of offending the kind, bewitching deity that resides in these mountaintops, although I simply had to affirm the legend of the god's beauty myself."

You hummed, taking Zhongli's face in your hands and caressing his cheek gently.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed," the former archon affirmed, bringing his arms around your back to pull you to him. "You are ever the most enchanting creature to have walked the skies, my love,"

You broke the flirtatious atmosphere with a snort, followed by a series of giggles, leaning against Zhongli's chest as he raised his eyebrow with a smile.

"Is there something you find funny, dearest?"

"I wasn't exactly expecting a pun, that's all."

"Ah, I had not intended..." Zhongli coughed into his hand to alleviate the embarrassed crackle in his voice. "Although it is forever true that you enchant me. Fully and truly. In fact, I would be honoured if you bestowed a blessing on me, perhaps the same one you have placed upon the lucky bloom?"

Your face warmed at the implication that he'd seen you kiss the flower. Somehow there were still moments of shyness in your relationship, despite its infinite length. However, you didn’t so much mind that your heart still fluttered around Zhongli. If anything, you found it quite comforting.

You placed your hands gently across Zhongli’s chest, leaning into him. In turn, the geo-wielder brought his hand to your chin to guide you into a sweet kiss.

Zhongli sighed into your touch, enjoying you thoroughly, yet smiling in the knowledge that neither of you would be satisfied with just one kiss.

[xysidhequeen]

New Ficlet

TW: Death, Murder, Blood, Experimentation, Vivisection, Dissociation, Child Abuse

RedredredredsomuchredsomuchBLOOD.

Danny backed away, hands shaking. His foot slipped on the blood mess on the floor. He went down, a keening whimper escaping him as the fall jolted his wounds. His hands went up to grab at his chest, at the gaping wound and flapping skin. He froze, looking at the dripping red liquid coating his hands and arms like gloves. 

His hands shook and he could feel a wail crawling up his throat. He didn't look up, didn't look at his…at Jack and Maddie at their…bodies. He killed them. They're dead. DEADdeaddeadhekilledthem. He didn't look at them. 

Some cold part of his mind whispered to him. The voice sounded like Jazz. And– oh Ancients what would she think? What would Sam and Tucker think? They'd hate him, surely. He couldn't–

Jazz's voice in his head spoke up over his spiraling thoughts. Calm and clinical and ordering him to get up, to wash his hands. To find bandages and fishing line to sew up his wounds before their were three dead bodies in this lab. 

Danny listened to Jazz's voice. She'd always been the smart one. She'd always known what to do. He stood on unsteady legs and limped to the sink in the lab, washing his hands in robotic motions, ignoring the pink water until it ran clear.

He gathered up the materials he needed, sitting on a clean stretch of ground where there was no blood mess. He stitched himself back together, not even feeling the pain of it. This was nothing compared to what his parents Jack and Maddie had done to him over the past week.

He closed up the Y shaped incision on his chest, closed up the deep, surgical cuts along his torso and arms. Covered them in spare ectoplasm lying around the lab, slathered it on like ointment on the chunks of flesh taken from his arms and legs. Then he wrapped them all in bandages. 

He stood again and mechanically gathered what he'd need, Jazz's voice in his head, a calming narrator telling him what step to take next. What to grab. All the ecto-dejectos after he'd taken one and injected it into himself, giving him the energy he'd need and kickstarting his healing. More bandages, all he could grab. Fishing line, needles. 

He climbed back up to his room, grabbing a worn duffle bag to shove it all in. He grabbed his phone, turned it off, and tossed it in. Clothes, the cash Sam had given him 'in case of an emergency', the thumb drive Tucker made that would grab all the data from the Fenton computers and wipe the rest. He grabbed clothes, roughly yanking off the ruined remains of his jumpsuit and tossing a hoodie and jeans on instead. His ectoplasm would replace it, eventually, but for now, he needed clothes. 

He didn't turn back into his human form. It didn't feel safe. It wouldn't survive with the injuries he currently had. No matter how tired he was.

He drifted through the house, Jazz's voice his only grounding anchor as he dipped in and out of rooms. Grabbed a few things from Jazz's room, some of the emergency supplies she had left. A med-kit, cash, his fake papers, and ID. They kept it in her room, just in case his parents found out and it went badly and they combed his room.

They found out. They found out. It went so much worse than he could ever imagine. Now they're dead, and he's a MONSTER.

He dropped into his parent's room, the static in his head nearly drowning out Jazz's voice. She screamed louder, though. She always had. He took a hesitant step. It felt like moving through molasses. Then another and another, forcing himself into the room of his parents, his victims, the Fentons. He moved as quickly as he could, barely touching anything except to grab his legal papers and the money his dad squirreled away because he didn't trust banks and thought they were controlled by ghosts.

"No one can be that soulless and not be a ghost, Danno!"

He left the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it cracked. He stopped in the kitchen next, grabbing whatever wasn't currently animated and attempting to stage a coup. It wasn't much. He tossed it into the bulging duffle, struggling to zip it closed. 

He paused at the stairs to the lab, the darkness yawning like a monster's maw. He wanted to run he wanted to never see it again. 

But Jazz's voice was louder than his fear, so he stepped back into the lab, his prison, his cage. Each step rang too loudly in the silent house. Finally, he was back, and he kept his eyes carefully averted from the… mess. From the stains on the ground and the lumps beside a metal table covered in green ectoplasm. 

He hurried to the computer, shoving the thumb drive in. Immediately, a screen popped up, denoting how long it would take to download. Danny kept his eyes locked on it, never blinking or moving as the bar slowly went up. 

When it reached a hundred, Danny ripped the thumb drive out and shoved it in the duffle, deep down into it. He took a deep breath and turned his head quickly to miss the…mess. He zeroed in on the portal and forced himself to walk to it, past it. He ripped a panel off, exposing a mess of wiring. 

Danny moved on autopilot, ripping wires and twisting them together. Turning h- Jack and Maddie's greatest invention into a ticking time bomb. 

He couldn't afford for anyone else to get into the Ghost Zone or for anyone to get out. He needed to hide the bodies evidence. He needed for all of the Fenton inventions to be gone. This would do it. It wouldn't be a massive explosion, but it would be enough to take out the house. 

Everyone would think he was dead.

Sam, Tucker and Jazz would think he was dead.

That would be for the best.

Better he die a hero to them than live as a monster.

Danny finished his work and stepped back, taking a deep breath he finally turned his head to look at Jack and Maddie. At their bodies. At his victims. He killed them. Him. He was the monster. 

The monster they made him.

Invisibility and intangibility washed over him in a cooling wave. He stumbled but held his legs, his core crying from the strain. He pushed past it. He forced himself up, up, up, and out of Fenton Works. 

He floated there, watched with a detatched type of curiosity as he mentally counted down the seconds until there was a rumble. Then the building just…crumpled in on itself. Imploding. 

Jazz was silent in his mind.

Danny didn't wait around for the emergency services to arrive. He turned his head and flew off. He wasn't sure where, exactly, until a memory tickled his brain. A memory of a little bird, a robin he remembered Sam saying. A ghost robin that used to warn him when new ghosts were coming or his parents were getting close. A robin who used to try to distract his rogues or tug Danny out of (or occasionally into danger if someone needed help) danger. 

A little robin that Danny used to just unload his woes and troubles onto because it felt like the bird could understand him. He always stayed to listen, at least. 

A little bird who had only ever spoken once, the last time Danny ever saw him.

"If you ever need to run, come to Gotham. It'll keep you safe."

Well. He had nowhere else to go. He might as well go to Gotham. No one would find one singular eighteen year old kid there. 

Danny turned his phone on, ignoring the hundreds of missed calls and texts, just long enough to see where Gotham was. Then he turned it off and started slowly flying in that direction, desperately hoping he got to Gotham before he passed out.

—-----------

Danny kept flying doggedly on, only pausing when he started leaking through his bandages and even then only stopping long enough to redo them in whatever bathroom he came across. He burned the old bandages once he was done, not willing to leave behind traces of his ectoplasm for someone to track him with. 

He ate while flying, shoving whatever he grabbed out of the bag into his mouth. The ecto-dejectos kept him going when his vision started to go dark at the edges. He couldn't pass out here. Not where it wasn't safe. He couldn't risk it. 

Danny had no idea when he'd feel safe again. Had no idea if Gotham would provide that safety, but it was the only hope he had. He had nowhere else to go. He couldn't go to the Zone, the portal was destroyed, and he couldn't risk trying to sneak past Vlad. He was too weak to open his own right now. Besides, if he came into the Zone this injured, then every ghost in a hundred mile radius would be on his ass, trying to finally End him and take the crown. 

No, the living realm wasn't safe, but it was safer than the Zone right now.

He just had to get to Gotham, find a safe place to lay low for a few weeks until he healed. Then he could vanish into the Zone. 

Danny kept flying, forcing his invisibility to stay up even when his core felt like it would shatter. He kept pushing and pushing. He stole a phone at one point. He couldn't risk turning his on again and having Tucker trace the signal.

He didn't spend time wondering why he'd even grabbed the phone. Why he kept it on him. The buried hope it would uncover would be the end of him.

He used it to keep him on track, getting closer and closer to Gotham until he could finally see the smog that coated the city like a dirty cloak. Could see the twinkling skyscrapers and Gothic architecture clawing at the sky. 

Danny was half delirious at that point, running on fumes and ecto-dejecto. He'd run out of food days ago, and his stomach had stopped growling, instead cramping in a ball of pained agony that just joined the rest of the pain his battered body felt. 

He flew over the city, past skyscrapers and ancient buildings. He ignored the thoughts of Sam that accompanied every gothic building and gargoyle. He flew deeper into the city, ignoring the crowds below. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, a sign, maybe?

A feeling tickled at his senses, at his core. It felt familiar but faint. Hidden almost under something…wrong and rancid. But it was familiar. It felt safe in a way Danny hadn't felt in two weeks.

It had been longer than that, but Danny didn't want to think about that.

Danny followed the feeling, half asleep and so delirious he could swear the buildings were warping around him as he flew haphazardly closer. The feeling grew stronger. It almost felt like a ghost. As he crossed some unseen threshold, the feeling strengthened. It was like entering an abandoned haunt, the boundary lined weak and feeble. 

If there had been a ghost here, they were long gone. Probably Ended, it was one of the only ways he'd ever seen a ghost relinquish a haunt.

Danny paid it little mind. The ghost might be gone, but the sense of them remained. It felt so safe to him, even if the energy pulsate Rage/Pain/Hate/Grief/Vengeance like a heartbeat. He followed the feeling deeper into the haunt towards the center. Towards what would've been the ghost's lair. 

He forced his body to go intangible when he found the building, an apartment building that was slightly less derelict than the ones around it. Not that Danny was particularly picky at the moment. This spot was as good as any, and if it had been a ghost's lair, it was unlikely there were any living people in it. They tended to naturally avoid ghost lairs, some deep instinct buried in their psyche screaming at them to stay away. 

Danny dropped through the roof and through apartments until he reached the one that was positively drenched in the faded ghost's energy. There was a couch right there. And Danny didn't even have the energy to look around further.

He was tired. He was in so much pain. He just wanted to sleep.

Danny dropped his invisibility and intangibility, collapsing on the couch, his duffle bag dropped to the floor beside him. The moment his eyes closed, he was out.

---------

What. You thought I only wrote fluff? Nah.

Anyways, this is an idea that's been rattling around in my head I wanted to get out. It's rough, unedited and who knows if I'll continue it. But it exists now.

It has no name but I saved it as 'The Monster They Made' but the name is subject to change.

I'm pretty sure I got all the trigger warnings. Let me know if I missed any

[love-toxin]

i finally got around to watching a play through of RE4 separate ways and now i just wanna be a pitiful research assistant abandoned by my team that ada stumbles across,,,,

imagine just hitting all her soft spots. a naive, good hearted, timid thing who she can’t resist helping. she tries to act all aloof and uncaring but she Loves the feeling having someone cling to her more than anything.

she has this one line after she sees ashley being kidnapped that’s like “babysitting is tough huh?” and she’s all mocking towards leon, but she totally loves mother henning you, making sure you’re not too tired or lagging behind. she goes out her way to keep you out of danger whenever there are any plagas around. and if you even so much as scrape your knee she is dropping everything to make you feel better.

omg and when her infection flares up and you’re worrying all over her it takes everything in her not to pull you into a random room in the castle to absolutely wreck you for being so cute and concerned about her 🤭

unnnggghhh.....ada..... (<- hasn't played separate ways yet)

You're so gentle and meek. You're not really working under Saddler, are you? That's what she thinks when she first meets you, and she's partially right. You don't really have any idea what you've gotten yourself into....and yet you've still been abandoned by your team. The only one that even tried to help you was Luis, the charmer. But then you got separated, and you got lost and scared, and Ada came to rescue you because...well, she's not really sure why. Maybe because she just couldn't stand to listen to your cries anymore, or maybe because there's a little piece inside her that still wants to help the weak and the guileless.

And it's for the better for her, it turns out, because you actually can be pretty useful to her. You might be delicate and fragile, but you can point her in the directions she needs to go, decipher the landscape with familiarity she doesn't possess, and you do it with such a cute, eager insistence because Ada saved your life and it's the least you can do to help her back. Doing the heavy lifting isn't so hard when she's got someone on her side, even if it means she feels responsible for saving you from the plagas, the island, Saddler, and Wesker.

With Leon in the mix, however, it complicates things further. He's like you: a goody two shoes. He could very easily convince you to join him, to follow his lead, and he could put you in so much danger on this little suicide mission to save the president's daughter. And though Ada can try her best to keep you away from each other, there are times when you just end up....falling into Leon's arms. Like what happened about an hour ago, when she lost sight of you during Leon's assault on Salazar's castle--and she still hasn't managed to get you back. Well, not until you got separated from Leon in one of those trapped hallways and went running into another room to hide, only to find that you've ducked into the bookbinding tower.

It's a miracle she even gets to you in time, slinging herself around on that hookshot to fly through the already-opened window, just in time to launch herself feet-first into one of those possessed knights and send it squealing and flailing into the fireplace. But when you look at her with those soft eyes and that teary face, she just melts, and it reminds her of why she picked you up off your knees and saved you in the first place.

"Adaaaa!" You sob and scramble to your feet, running for her in your stained lab coat and hugging her tight enough to bruise. Usually you're the one fussing over her and her parasite, but now you're like a child wailing for their mummy--and it's so cute, god it's so cute.

"There, there." She gets to croon, stroking your hair with a gentle hand and smiling softly as you bury your face in her shoulder. "I'm here, now." You don't have to be scared. God, she's getting soft. Getting all melty and gentle with some whimpering little cupcake. But at the same time, her grip on you tightens because she knows she's never leaving you by yourself again. She can't take such a precious little thing like you getting hurt....no, it's not that bad to keep her eye on you. Can't leave you alone, can't leave you behind, certainly can't hand you over to Wesker--it looks like you might just become her new mission partner after all. Or maybe you can be a pretty new piece in her apartment to welcome her home after these long, long days. Who knows what the future holds for you and her...together?

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (4)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: action scene, nongraphic injury

Word Count: roughly 3k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The first time you had held Miguel was in his lab. It was the earlier days, the grief still raw, the man still shell-shocked. You were brand new to the multiverse, to Earth-928.

You had found him watching videos of his daughter.

“Miguel?”

You’d never seen him close windows on his platform display so fast, before or since then. You waited for him to say something, anything, but all you saw was the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll leave these here, we just thought you'd like to have some food…” you said, glancing up at him while you placed the takeout box on a level surface.

“Thank you.”

The ghost of a wobble in his voice made you pause, look closer at him. A thwip and a swing, and you were suddenly on the platform with him. He turned to look at you, the vague surprise on his face doing little to hide the shine of his eyes.

And then you hugged him, your arms around his waist and your head against his chest as you squeezed him tight. He clearly didn't know what to do, his own arms floated awkwardly in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m returning the favor,” you mumbled. “From when we met.”

His body seemed to relax at that, just slightly, and his hands came to rest lightly on your back.

“...Thank you.”

You wake twenty minutes before your alarm feeling ill-rested and ill at ease, your dream fading rapidly from your mind. Turning your head to look at where your phone is charging on the edge of the mattress (“You really shouldn’t sleep with that thing in your bed,” you hear Miguel say in the back of your mind), you stare at it as if it will miraculously fix your previous night’s sleep, or suddenly announce that you actually have hours left to return to dreamland.

No such luck.

So you drag yourself out of bed, feeling much like a cursed skeleton climbing from a blackened pit, and reluctantly start your day.

When you head out you leave a sleeping Gwen in the apartment, your dimension-hopping watch in your inner coat pocket beside your mask in case she needs to contact you. You don’t have time to get a burner phone for her this morning, but you put it on your mental to-do list.

Like many Spider-People, your day job is in journalism. You’ve lost track of how many Peter Parkers work in photo -journalism, and how many at the Daily Bugle specifically. You’re no stranger to J. Jonah Jameson and his anti-Spider-Person vendetta, being the target of it here in your own dimension, but you couldn't imagine working for him too. No, your main job is writing for the features section of an entirely different paper, often assigned to human interest pieces, community events, and independent art exhibits. This only pays about half the bills, freelance barely covering the rest, but the hours are flexible and your journalism pass has come in handy enough times during Spider-sleuthing that you wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, besides more pay. Obviously. So… yeah, actually, maybe one thing.

But your heart’s barely in it today. While your body sits in the paper’s office floor, waiting to talk with the editor in chief about your latest piece, your head is–

“You okay today? You look about a million miles away,” one of your colleagues seems to materialize before you, her long pin-straight blonde hair tucked behind one ear.

You give an apologetic smile. Even under the terrible fluorescence of the office lights she manages to look like an ethereal elven being.

So not fair.

“Sorry, late night,” you chuckle weakly. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m guessing from the way you say that, it wasn’t for any fun reason,” she attempts to joke, and you chuckle.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Just uh, one of those nights.”

She glances at the door behind you. “Good luck with Ellison. Ben’s got him in a real mood today, I hear.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

She smiles, turning to head to the door. “See ya later then.”

You return the smile. “Bye, Karen.”

She’s passing through the office door when the editor’s office opens and a balding, bearded man pokes his head out, fixing you under his bespectacled stare.

“ Please tell me you have good things to tell me today.”

“Mitchell,” you greet, rising from the plastic chair to follow him into his office. “Have I ever let you down?”

“Only about five times in recent memory,” he says, motioning for you to close the door as he turns the corner around to the back of his desk, sitting down.

“Fair,” you acknowledge. “But then did I not totally make up for those?”

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly. “Okay, fine.” He gestures at you. “Out with it.”

“I need an extension.”

He sighs, going to take off his glasses–

“I’m kidding,” you quickly say. And then, “Sorry,” when he glares at you from under his crunched together eyebrows. “I actually finished early, it should be in your inbox, and,” you fish out a thin stack of paper collected in a binder clip, holding them towards him in offering. “I brought you a hard copy for your notes. I know the printer here is on the fritz.”

He raises his eyebrows, reaching across the table to accept the papers. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you say. “Because I'm going to assume you can't pay me for it yet, so I won't even ask. Can I have my next story?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to finish so soon,” he says, plopping the papers down on his desk. “I won’t have more for you for at least a week, since you refuse to cover the Spider.”

“Conflict of interest,” you immediately recite, punching your hands into your coat pockets.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off. “Take the week, use it to catch up on your freelance work, see if there’s anything you wanna pitch to me.”

You nod, the two of you say your farewells, and you exit the office.

Back on the street, a light wind nips at your nose and ears. There’s no aggression behind it, the nips as harmless as a teething puppy, but the chill is there nonetheless. Once again you punch your hands into your pockets to spare your fingers the gummy mouthing of the wind, letting it chase you down the sidewalk and dance around your heels.

With nothing but time to kill, you scan through your mental list of tasks and errands—

Ah. A phone for Gwen.

The simple errand was going very, very wrong.

First, on the way there, you had gotten swept into a car chase as The Spider, at one point narrowly dodging a bullet with your name on it. The unnamed woman from the last night Miguel had stayed over flashed through your mind when it blew past you, throwing you off and earning you a road rash on your hands, knee, and one forearm that you’d be feeling for the next few days, at least. God, you wish you had a better healing factor.

Second, the first phone-related store you happened upon was one of those places with windows pasted with advertisements, the glass behind bars, and the entire storefront covered in bright glittery and flashing signage. Most prominent was the ‘ WE BUY GOLD!!!’ sign dancing with all the enthusiasm of a Las Vegas showgirl.

It was also being robbed. Which wasn’t a problem for you of course, it was just that you were starting to feel pretty damn drained already and it wasn’t even noon.

After some acrobatics that would impress even Gwen, you succeeded in webbing up the four men involved with the overzealous attempted robbery, leaving them hanging from the lampost outside to be picked up before buying a prepaid flip phone with cash.

But no, that wasn’t all that went wrong. You believed yourself to be in the clear, stopping to get a sandwich once back in your civilian clothes, and now you sat on a bench in the square watching manicured bushes rustle in the midday breeze.

“Mm,” you hum, swallowing your first bite of your sandwich, and going for another.

And then, the third thing goes wrong. A portal opens up and spits out a rather tall man, covered head to toe in glowing and moving circuit-board patterns under his hat and trenchcoat. The air buzzes with static even from where you sit nearly twenty feet away, your internal alarm blaring like a bad horror movie.

His head turns with a sudden, jerking motion, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

His body turns to face you, moving as jerky as his head had. You barely have time to jump up and run, abandoning your sandwich, before his arm lifts and he fires a goddamn laser ball at you.

“Shit, shit!”

You scatter with the other handful of people who had been in the square, searching frantically for somewhere to pull on your mask and safely ditch your things. It takes a moment, but you manage it, and when you emerge from the tiny alley to slingshot yourself back to the square, the anomaly is walking straight for you, movements jerky and mechanical.

“Ohhh, this isn’t good,” you lift your watch to your masked face as you land on a grassy patch. “I need backup! Anomaly on Earth-”

You don’t manage to get your dimension number out as you speak into your watch, because a second laser blast is heading straight for you. Your internal alarm bell screeches at you just in time for you to dodge and for it to fly through empty air where your rib cage had been moments before.

You land in a roll, scraping your road-rash all over again, standing as the park tree behind where you had stood moments shatters and topples, branches bouncing and rustling against themselves in a way that sounds quite a lot like the blood rushing through your ears.

You shoot a web at the electric man, but his cannon arm— Holy shit, his whole arm? —tears through it like, well, a cobweb.

“Electro!” You shout, taking a wild guess as to his identity. You don’t have an Electro on your earth, but you’ve heard enough and seen enough waiting to be sent home, so you connect the dots. “We don’t need to do this! I can hel-”

“Not. Elec. Tro.” He speaks, voice choppy like his movements, distorted and filtered. “Ven. Ture.”

Dots un- connected.

“Wha-? Who?”

He raises his cannon arm at you once more. You start to run, looking for something with height.

No such luck.

Then across the square a familiar golden portal opens, pulling your attention.

It pulls Venture’s too.

A figure steps out, Venture swinging his cannon arm in the new direction. You call out in warning, shooting your webs to grab his arm. The sudden pull on his arm throws his aim off and the cannon fires into a bench, leaving a charred hole the size of a man’s torso where the laser hits.

You see a piece of charred sandwich wrapper comically flutter away from the blast as a familiar voice calls out to you, using your alias of Spider.

Your head whips to see Miguel. Miguel, who you’ve just saved.

Miguel who could be vaporized right now.

“Wrap him up!” He shouts, and you nod, Miguel charging Venture while you have his arm webbed and unable to aim at him.

You seem to realize at the same time that Venture does that just because he cannot pull against your web to shoot Miguel, doesn’t mean he can’t just turn towards you.

You don't register the words, but you recognize Miguel’s shout as you backflip and narrowly dodge yet another blast from Venture’s laser cannon arm. When you’ve righted yourself you see Venture firing wildly, Miguel’s talons digging into and cracking the cannon as he shoves it aside.

You’re sprinting towards them, shooting webs to pin the cannon arm to the ground before Venture can raise it and shoot Miguel, who’s baring his teeth to bite down on the man’s other arm.

Alarm bells.

“Wait, don’t–!” You cry, shooting webs to pin down Venture’s other arm, grabbing Miguel’s shoulder to pull him back.

“Why not?!” He snarls, whipping his head and shoulders to face you, all adrenaline and teeth and talons as he crouches over Venture.

“He’s not– He’s all– he’s all juiced up with electricity–” you scramble to explain, waving your hands around.

His eyes dart over your face, your body, catching on your scraped hands, knee, and elbow. He stiffens further, breathing heavily from the short fight. In the blink of an eye he whips back around, punches Venture in the face, knocking him out cold.

“Jesus,” you whisper, eyes wide.

Miguel rises and begins to tie Venture up with his own webs, tearing yours off the now unconscious figure’s arms so that they’re no longer stuck to the ground. You’ve seen his talons before, of course, but you can’t help but stare at the quick work they make of your webs.

His mask is back on when he straightens to his full height, turning to look at you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, nodding his head at your scrapes.

You blink under your mask, looking down. Only now do you see that the scrapes on one of your hands and on your knee are bleeding again. As the fog of adrenaline begins to recede the sting of pain comes in to replace it.

“Oh, yeah. This wasn’t him, this was… earlier.” You flex your hands slightly at the growing sting in your palms, glad he can’t see your slight grimace under your mask. “It’s been an… eventful day.”

Miguel stares at you for a moment, before looking down to tap his watch. “Come to HQ.”

You nod.

Miguel insists you get your scrapes cleaned up by one of the medically trained Spider-Men at HQ when you get back. He lurks in the corner, his elbow resting on his other arm crossed over his ribs as he taps at his chin, his bottom lip. He takes brief breaks from glaring at the floor to take the occasional quick glance up at you, his fingers pausing in their tapping when he does.

“No significant debris,” Doctor Spidey says, pushing away on his stool to retrieve bandages where they sit waiting on the counter nearby after cleaning your scrapes. “They’ll heal up fast, just keep it clean for the next while until they do.”

You nod, keeping your palm out for him to wrap. Both of you try to pretend that Miguel isn’t hovering in the corner while bandages are wrapped around your palms, your outer forearm, and your knee.

“Alright!” Doctor Spidey says. “You’re good to go.”

After expressing your thanks you exit the doctor’s office, Miguel’s towering form following behind you.

“How’d you get those anyway?”

You turn to look at him, a brief jolt going through you when you find his eyes already on you. His brow is furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw twitches when he turns his gaze forward to focus on the path of the hall you both journey down.

“Oh, um, car chase earlier,” you say, wishing you had pockets to put your hands into. You finally look away, watching the ground in front of your feet.

Miguel’s form by your side eats up your awareness, even as you pass other Spider-People and exchange passing hellos. Something restless and hot rolls off his body, and it swallows you up like water.

“You need to be more careful,” he says, and his voice is sharp with agitation, frustration.

You bristle at his tone.

“I am careful. I was careful.” You frown, turning to look at him.

The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

“Yeah. Clearly.” He says, glancing at your injuries and looking away just as you frown and start to open your mouth.

“Miguel, hey! Oh-ho, and our little Garden Spider?”

It’s Peter who interrupts whatever it is you're about to say to Miguel. As usual he has May with him in the baby carrier, and her pudgy little hands hold onto his fingers as he absentmindedly bounces them in the air.

You do your best to school your features, your mask clenched in your hand as you try to take your attention back from Miguel and his now crossed arms in the corner of your vision.

“Hey Peter,” you give a close lipped smile, hoping it doesn't look as tense and forced as it feels.

He glances between the two of you, Miguel’s tense body and crossed arms, then your own stiff posture and your bandages.

“Damn,” he raises his eyebrows. “What happened to you ?”

Miguel’s crossed arms tense in the corner of your eye.

“Car chase,” you manage to say. “Slipped.” You shrug, mustering up every ounce of nonchalance in your body.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I’ve been there. Road rash is no fun. Y’know, one time–”

“Peter, as fascinating as I’m sure this story is, I have things to get to,” Miguel interrupts.

“Right,” Peter shrugs it off like it's no big deal, stepping out of the way. “You’re missing out though, it’s a pretty good story.”

“Uh-huh.” Miguel lets his arms uncross as he starts to walk again, and he gets a few large strides past Peter before he falters to a stop, turning to look back over his shoulder.

You want to continue on walking with him, you really do. That new feeling you’re getting all too familiar with, the one that squeezes your ribs, returns when his eyes meet yours. He hesitates, something unsure in his eyes.

“We still need to debrief,” Miguel says.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Miguel hesitates still, turning away at last and then walking away, shoulders tense.

Once Miguel turns the corner, Peter turns to you. “I feel like I interrupted something.”

You slump slightly, rubbing your now furrowed brow. “Today sucks, Peter.”

“Aw, hey,” Peter says, stepping closer to put a fatherly arm over your shoulders, May reaching out to pat you. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “No, I should…” you trail off and gesture in the direction Miguel had left.

“Right. Baaad idea to keep boss-man waiting.”

You nod. Peter pats your back.

“Listen,” he says, pulling back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as you lift a hand to let May grab your finger. “Whatever it is, it’s just because he cares. You know that right?”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” Letting go of May’s hand, you give Peter a tired, thankful smile. “I’ll see you around.”

You’re almost out of earshot when you hear Peter mumble to May:

“Those two are killing me, kid.”

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[ariseur]

im this ongoing sephiroth fic (pre nibelheim) where reader is a materia developer and im interested in what ur take on that would be !!!! like reader works for shinra and just coincidentally (at first) keeps bumping into THE war hero who’s secretly growing an interest for them…

if anyones interested btw the fic is called “be soft with me” by sephirothkisser on ao3! 🎐

“i admire how dedicated you are to your work.” a cool voice interrupted your thoughts, the whirring of the mako beginning to flutter in the process of the materia development fell dead to your ears as you turned around quickly. he— sephiroth— looked down at you, a few silver strands of hair in his face with his head tilted at a weird angle. you had almost choked, a clipboard tucked beneath your arm and a few more seconds of silence before your fingers hit a rounded button, stopping the formation as the awaited seconds had already passed by in a flash.

“i— thank you.” you had finally gasped out, although the syllables felt numb on your tongue whilst you scooted over to the side, leaning over the evolving console and grasping the orb within your hands. it painted your hand with a green glow, its healing aura whirling within the cold sphere before you set it down in a neat, linear pile with some other materia. grabbing the clipboard from under your arm, you set it down on the counter to jot something down.

you glanced at him cautiously once more and he cocked his head to the side, “is something wrong?”

brows raised, you let out a nervous laugh as you hastily waved your free hand in a denying manner. “i just, wasn’t expecting a war hero to grace me with his presence.”

“please,” he held a hand up, “no need to act so formal around me.”

“i’m sorry, you had just— caught me off guard, is all.” you gave a meager smile, before turning around and editing some controls on the console before you, feeling sephiroth loom behind as the cool scent of him engulfed your senses, albeit he was only maybe seven inches away from you. “my apologies, then.” he said.

a small, tense silence wriggled its way between you, only the occasional footsteps of shifting throughout the lab and the sounds of forming the materia. bright colors illuminated the core of the lab, creating one big emulsion of the mako’s glow and your skin on your face.

you huffed, wiping your forehead with the sheen layer of sweat from both moving around and having shinra’s poster child observing your every move. although he wasn’t exactly in your peripheral, sephiroth’s gaze was heavy enough to weigh down your motions as your mind raced. “so,” you began, “how’s your day been?”

his teal eyes, mako coated and catlike, squinted as he gave a close mouthed laugh. your heart fluttered at the sound— imagine how impressive it was to be able to boast to your friends about how you’ve made the sephiroth, laugh. “my day’s been decent, how about yours?”

“my what?” your gaze stayed focused on your pen moving along the paper pinned against the wooden clipboard.

“your day. how was it?” he approached you, placing a gentle hand on the counter, his leather glove sticking out against the stainless steel. you looked back up, lips forming an ‘o’ in surprise as your remembered your train of thought.

“oh—! it’s been.. okay. i’ve been,” you trailed off as you gestures towards the slew of materia displayed on the slots in the counter ready for deployment, “at work.”

sephiroth huffed in amusement, “well, as much as i’d love to continue speaking with you more,” you looked at him with owlish eyes, “i must take my leave.”

you smoothed out your hair, knowing you must look disheveled from how long you’ve been working. you flashed him a warm smile, “thank you keeping me company.” he nodded, fixing his posture and standing up straight.

“of course,” he made his way to the entrance of which he came into, “perhaps i’ll stop by again another day, maybe to check and see if you’re still developing deformed materia.”

your eyebrows furrowed before turning to your newest chunk, seeing as it has become lopsided from how long you had left it due to how long this conversation with sephiroth had lasted. he laughed at your franticness to check the clipboard before he bid you one last goodbye and slipped past the door frame and into another room.

you looked back up only to find his silver ends flowing behind him as he exited your line of sight, the distant clack’s of his footsteps became the only piece of evidence of his presence in the room— now slowly fading away. you huffed as you tucked your hair behind your ear, closing your eyes as your chest rose with your deep breath. maybe you were looking forward to those visits after all, you thought, although you’d never tell anybody that. not even the great war hero, sephiroth, himself.

❥ oyé im sorry this was sitting in my inbox for so long!! but guys, make sure to check this person’s fics out, ive read some chapters and they’re literally SOO talented!! i loved this idea and once again apologize for how long it’s been vacant in my asks, i wasn’t sure how to go about it at first but i hope you enjoyed 💕!!

𐙚 taglist ; @snoopicle

[my-little-delusions]

To the Ends of the Universe Pt. 2 - Dick Grayson x Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader (Romantic), Bruce Wayne x Assistant!Pennyworth!Reader, Donna x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Death, cursing, violence, talk of self harm, talk of domestic abuse, talk of terminal illness and hospitals, experiments, smut (skippable)

(It's a long summary I know I'm sorry. Read it or don't.)

Summary: When you were 6 years old, you were diagnosed with a terminal illness. The doctors said there was nothing they could do, and your health would rapidly decline. You wouldn't live past 8 years old. Your parents refused to take that answer and decided to make their own cure for you. However, they couldn't stop there, they didn't just want to make you healthy, they wanted to make you super. Make sure nothing could put you in harms way ever again. After a faulty experiment when you were 10 years old, the lab they worked out of, killed your parents and left you a sole survivor.

When reports of a "super kid" loose on the streets reached Wayne Manor, Bruce picked you up. Alfred ended up adopting you legally, but when Bruce realized you had no control of your powers, he decided to train you. Teach you how to use your powers and keep them under control.

A year later Bruce adopted Dick. Growing up and Training side by side you and Dick were inseparable. Your crush on Dick, the cute guy you would with a year older than you, only got worse. As well as his protectiveness over you. Your relationship flourished and you two seemed unstoppable. But what happens when Dick convinces you to leave Gotham? Make a new life for yourselves all on your own.

Disclaimer: I am fully aware my timeline/numbers are screwy, don't think about it. This is based solely on the Titans show, it is definitely not comic accurate lol.

--------------------

"I wish I didn't have to leave you baby," Dick mumbles, his arms wrapped around my waist.

"Baby," I smile looking up at him amused, "We can't do this every morning. You need to go to work, you said you would commit to this,"

"I know," He groans, pulling away, "You know they keep trying to give me a partner, I don't want to work with anyone but you,"

"I already told you I am not joining the force, there is too much surveillance on the cops,"

"But-"

"No. Look, Dick, being the Green Jay with you and Bruce on occasion was fun, but it put too many targets on my head, I can't risk my powers getting linked to my identity. Even by the PD. I mean, can you even imagine what they would find if they drug-tested me?"

"You're right, you're right," Dick laughs, "I guess I just miss you is all, I'm not used to not seeing you all day every day you know," He says, placing a kiss on my lips.

"I miss you too," I say once I pull away, "How about when you get back tonight we have a night just to ourselves, alright?"

"Oh yeah?" He quirks, "Alright, I'll look forward to it.... Orrrr we could have right now to ourselves,"

"Oh my god just go to work," I smile, shoving him away a bit.

"Okay, okay," He throws his hands up in defeat, grabbing his keys and coat, "I'll see you when I get home."

--------------------

"HEY BABE!" Dick calls, his voice laced with concern and an assertiveness I haven't heard since Gotham.

Swiftly I hurry my way towards the staircase, worry coursing through my veins. However, once I reach the stairs I freeze.

There Dick is at the bottom of the stairs, his lips pulled tightly in a like and a girl tucked away behind him.

"Fuck," I whisper under my breath, running up to him and pulling him into a hug. Dick just stands there, his shoulders slouched in defeat.

Pulling away, my eyes scan all of his features, my eyes glossing over slightly. His hardened face softens as he looks at me.

"I'm gonna go pack our stuff." He says, his tone is serious again,

"Okay.." I say, following him with my gaze as he brushes past me, his fingers lingering on mine. "Hi," I say, facing the girl. Her head whips up. "I'm Y/N, what's your name?"

"Rachel"

--------------------

Dick opens the car door to pop open the trunk.

"This is yours?" Rachel asks as she steps into the garage.

"Family heirloom," Dick answers, tossing our luggage in.

I walk up to him, my back to Rachel. Reaching out my hand, I rub his arm through his jacket, attempting to comfort him.

"I'm sorry baby," I whisper to him, aware that Rachel is most likely listening, but at least whispering doesn't invite her to chime in, "I know you really wanted to avoid this sort of thing again."

He looks at me with a soft smile, reaching his and over and placing it on top of my hand on his arm.

"From the circus?" Rachel asks,

Dick chuckles, looking up from me to Rachel, "Not the one you're thinking. Come on let's go."

I adjust my posture from leaning on the car and walk to the passenger side.Opening the door, I lean in to u latch the front seat, revealing the small 2nd row of the car.

Giving Rachel a smile, I motion for her to get it, but she hesitates.

"We'll keep you safe, I promise,"

"That's not something you can promise," Rachel says to me before getting in the car anyway.

I push the front seat back into place and get in.

This feels like something we can't turn back from.

--------------------

The awkward silence in the car since we left the garage is slowly becoming unbearable. Tensions are high. I can practically feel the stress radiating off of dick.

Looking over at him, I can see his emotions plastered all over his face. It's a look I haven't had to see since we left Gotham. Exhaustion. Sadness. Anger. All of it.

My heart clenches and I reach over to Dick's free hand, pulling it over to my lap and holding it. Giving him reassuring squeezes throughout the drive every time I feel him tense.

"Where are we going?" Rachel finally speaks up,

"Somewhere safe," Dicks says, swallowing hard,

"My mom, says there's no such thing as monsters," Rachel turns her head to look out the window, "I think she was wrong."

--------------------

"Thank you," Dick says to the waitress, "You want a hot chocolate or something?"

"Just a coffee, black," Rachel says,

"I bet they have marshmallows," Dick smiles. My heart swells a bit as I look at him. I haven't seen many smiles like that from him in a long time. Definitely not in Gotham.

"I'm not a kid, okay?" Rachel snaps at him a bit,

"Rachel..." I say, with a bit of a warning tone, glancing at the waitress standing there awkwardly.

"Okay, same for the lady," Dick says and the waitress fills up Rachel's cup with a smile, gesturing to offer me some.

"I'm okay, thank you,"

The waitress gives me a smile before walking away.

"My mom didn't like me to drink coffee," Rachel says, reaching for the sugar and pouring a long steady stream of it into her cup.

Dick chuckles, "Sweet tooth, huh?"

Rachel says nothing.

"Rachel, has anything like.. like what happened happened before?"

"No, not like that," Rachel takes a deep breath, her voice growing shaky, "I didn't mean to kill that guy,"

"How did you kill that guy," Dick presses further, but Rachel only takes a sip of her coffee and stares off to the side. "We're gonna go see some old friends of ours," Dick glances at me, They're safe, they'll give us a place to lie low for a second, get our heads together. Give us some time to get our heads together."

"You're scared I get it," I say to Rachel, "But sometimes there's no time to be scared,"

And then.

Pain.

Blinding pain.

That's all I could feel.

It felt as if my head was boiling and my bones were freezing and cracking.

"Fuck." I say, my eyes squeezing shut my body beginning to curl in on itself. My hand reaches out to grip Dick's arms, gripping him hard, my nails digging into his forearm.

"Y/n? Baby? Hey, hey what's going on?" Dick's worried tone just barely breaking through the crackling noises sounding in my head. Opening my eyes, I can make out Dick's worried expression through my blurred vision, his brows furrowed, eyes wide, lips parted slightly.

"Dick?" I say, my voice is shaky as my vision begins to grow dark, my body becoming numb.

"Babe, come on, talk to me, what's happening right now?" Dick begins to tap my face lightly, trying to get me to wake up.

All of a sudden, it feels like my body is getting pumped with pure oxygen and I gasp loudly, drawing attention from.others in the restaurant.

My chest heaves and I look around the room frantically as Dick continues to stare me down with his worried expression.

Dick's hands cup my face, "Are you okay? What just happened right now?"

"I-I don't know," I say, "I think I'm okay... I'm okay"

----------

Authors Note: This fic really is for the girls who just wanna take care of the poor baby. :/

Request Open!

(If there's anything specific you want to see in this story as well, just comment it, I am open to suggestions)

Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist

[katiawidow]

Jason Todd x Dr!Vigilante! Reader

English is not my first language!!

You was unknown. No name, no story, no friends, no face. Red Hood think it can be dangerous if he cant know who are you that mean you were can be a villan but he saw you whit villans and he saw you being an enemy for them.

İt doesn't mean he doesn't hase any ideas for you. He saw your face for a few times. One of this times he find you in an empty warehouse, except Blood-soaked bodies on the ground. Your hair covered your face but when you lift your head to breathe. He saw bloody woman face. And then you disappeared like always.

And the other one; You offered him intelligence. Cold Gotham night caressed your skin. There was without mask on you're face just a cigarette between your lips. You wait him at a roof. When Jason come cigarette went out, masks on. "I didn't think you would be waiting for me with a cigarette in your hand". You giggled as you put on your mask. "Showing your face while keeping who you are a secret-" you cut in him "If you're good enough, It takes more than that to find you". You said whit a smile. He cant see your smile but when eyes speak it was obvious.

Jason heard some terrorists at Gotham. He try find out their plans. He just talk whit right person at right time (maybe a little bit threat).

Someone planned to a gun attack, an armed man will enter from behind the hospital, not a big deal.

When Red Hood learn this plan, he was lost a lot of time. He run on the roofs. He imagine what will happen if he doesn't catch up. On top of the building behind the hospital, just breat and be careful for guests. Only woman wears lab coat with surgical mask. Her hair covers face. This was smilar but from who?

Woman looks down, checks her pockets, looks for something. The sound of a bullet silencing the cry of the city. Red Hood isn't going to think about who got shot. Where did the bullet come from? With a scream in his ears, he looks around. İf he can hear scream this mean he was not shot. They attacked from the street. Jason has advantage. He's shooting from the roof. He's looking for the who was shot in the eye while shooting. You were wounded in the shoulder, right above your heart. You quickly returned to the hospital, and that's when Jason figured out who you were. Your quick action reminded him of one of the vigilantes. But he didn't stop you, he just watched you go.

A few days later, you were back in the behind the hospital, in a dark night time. You took out a cigarette and looked for your lighter. A voice in the darkness "Need fire?". When you turned around, you saw Red Hood with a domino mask on his face. He lit the cigarette between his lips and held out his fire to you as well. "You're not good enough." you giggled. "it wouldn't be hard to find a new name, but I think I don't need a new name"

Feedback if i have mistakes pls

[g0blintears]

Reader with the doctor who is clumsy and tends to get hurt and not know it till they are bleeding? Maybe they have a high pain tolerence ? Fluff plz

Electrifying Wounds

The Doctor/Herman Carter x Killer! Frankenstein! Reader

Sorry this took a lot longer to get out! Vecna was released yesterday and I had been playing all day 💀 But I hope this turned out okay!! I’m still new to requests and I was going back and forth on if I should write this as a oneshot or imagine, so I wrote a oneshot. I kinda changed the prompt a bit since I wasn’t quite sure if the reader should be a killer or a survivor and I had recently watched Lisa Frankenstein so I ended up with this LOL so I hope this is okay! And ngl, I might do a part 2 for this since I kinda dig the idea of a The Doctor x Frankenstein… so yeah! My apologies if Herman is a lil OOC…this is my first time writing for him :’)

Emerging from the clouds of black fog, you found yourself back at the campground. With a yawn leaving your lips, you stretched out your aching muscles with a satisfied ‘pop!’

Another trial had commenced and you had found yourself at a place called Autohaven Wreckers. Usually when the entity would send you to maps that didn’t work in your favor, you would typically let the survivors run free while accepting that you’d be punished.

It wasn’t as if you felt the pain of her tendrils anyways.

Seeing as how you were the living embodiment of a bunch of body parts sewn together, you didn’t necessarily ‘feel’ pain. So you usually never minded letting survivors run free.

However, you had been feeling rather bloodthirsty for a while, so when you spawned into the dark green atmospheric map, you gripped onto your weapon tightly and went out hunting for the group of survivors.

The trial was difficult at first, but overall you still came out on top. While the survivors were well coordinated, rushing through generators with their toolboxes and splitting up the moment you appeared, you, on the other hand, were determined enough to slaughter their blood all over the wrecked cars.

Stalking, chasing, and hooking, you managed to end the trial with three kills out of four which wasn’t too bad at all, but you would have prefered to have all the survivors dead.

Oh well. The trial was over and you had satisfied your own craving.

Now you were tired beyond belief and you were just about ready to flop onto your mattress and have a well deserved nap.

Walking down the pebbled path, you turned your attention over to the towering trees ahead. You were about to make your way through the forest to retire into your cabin until you heard a deep chuckle come from behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder.

A few feet away from you wearing a white ripped up lab coat over a white collared shirt and black tie, stood a man with a wired head contraption that peeled open his eyes and mouth.

You weren’t one to really interact with the other killers. In fact, a lot of the other killers in the realm were rather hostile. However, this killer in particular was one that you found yourself rather attracted to, and as the two of you continued to interact within the time you spent in the realm, you could sense that he felt that same bond.

So once you caught sight of the familiar man, you stopped.

“Oh, hey Dr. Carter.” You greeted, rubbing your eyes tiredly, “How’s it going?”

Stalking closer to you, the man didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he let out an amused giggle.

“[Name], did a survivor strike you again?” His raspy voice asked, eyes sparking with mischief as he watched you tilt your head in confusion.

“Huh? No, why do you ask?”

The man didn’t respond, he merely brought a hand to your shoulder and traced his finger down your back and around an oozing puncture wound. With electricity flowing through his fingers, the doctor gave a quick zap to the bleeding hole, earning himself a small shiver from you.

“Owe.” You muttered, albeit, in a monotone voice.

It was obvious that you didn’t truly feel the pain of that shock. If it had been anyone else to receive that much electricity, they would’ve convulsed on the spot. However, you didn’t. Instead, you treated Herman’s shocks as if they were a small tickle to the touch.

It amused him greatly, and the man couldn’t help but show his delight by admiring your being. Bringing his hand to his face, Herman observed the blood that covered his fingers. It was a dark inky black, barely even considered red at that point. It was truly something to marvel at. Blood didn’t flow through your veins like an ordinary being, yet here you stood able to walk and talk just like him.

You were truly the embodiment of the first sci-fi monster.

The doctor could feel a his heart beat rapidly against his chest. Letting out another fit of laughter, Herman watched as you brought your own hand to your shoulder and touched the area where his fingers had just lingered.

“Huh.” You voiced, “I didn’t even know that was there. I must’ve gotten it when I fell over my missing arm and had landed on a leaking pipe.” Scratching your head, you continued with a pout. “I knew I should’ve burned a map offering. Autohaven is just too cluttered for me.”

Herman’s laugh continued. His body shook as a deep fit of laughter rippled through his being.

Oh, how you were his favorite specimen in all of the realm.

With his fingers still sparking with impulsive shocks, the man held out his hand to you, “Shall we go back to my cabin? I would love to stitch up your wounds.”

You looked down at his hand for a moment.

You really wanted to rest. But at the same time, Dr. Carter was the only being who you truly had any ‘feelings’ for. His electricity enticed you, and gazing into his glowing white eyes, you could tell that he knew that too.

Were you just another experiment to him? Many would say so, but as you stood in front of the man, watching as he held out a hand towards you, his eyes beckoning you to take his hand, a part of you believed that he felt something for you as well.

So you took his hand, shivering as you felt electricity run through your body.

Letting out another deep chuckle, Herman took your hand and brought your fingers to his lips. Placing a chaste kiss to the top of your skin, Herman gripped your hand tightly before leading you back to his cabin.

[bihanarms]

Short one-shot in English (sorry in advance for any mistakes, I'm French) featuring Luis x Fem!Reader!!

Warning: Some mild smut at the end :p

It takes place while Luis is working at Lab 6, secretly developing Nemesis with his colleagues.

You're supposed to be a journalist coming to interview Umbrella and their pharmaceutical advancements, but the truth is that you're there to extract information about their true motives and try to expose the truth about Umbrella to the world. Unfortunately for you, it's Luis who you have in front of you :p Feel free to correct me or let me know if anything doesn't sound right.

OS: Luis x Fem!Reader : Not So Dangerous Curiosity

11:57 a.m.

A deep breath was taken, as a trembling hand reached into a overused notebook from a bag, followed by another hand searching for a black pen. "Fuck, where is that damn thing?"

(Name) finally felt what seemed like a pen under her fingers after hunting through every corner of her handbag, and immediately pulled it out. "Well, a pencil will do," she said to herself.

She took another deep breath as she saw her colleague approaching in the distance, cigarette in hand. The scent of mint mixed with tobacco wafted into (Name)'s nose as she immediately took the cigarette away from her cameraman's fingers. "You could’ve juste ask…" sighed the young man as he took out a camera from his bag.

(Name) pretended not to hear him as she looked at her watch for the twentieth time in a few minutes.

12:00 p.m.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

A nod and a hand gesture to indicate the camera now resting on the young man right shoulder were his response.

"Don't forget, I'm the one who speaks," were (Name)'s last words before being interrupted by the creaking of a door. "Are you here for the interview?" asked the man in a white coat who had just opened the door.

From head to toe, (Name)'s gaze traveled over the man standing right in front of her. Medium-length brown hair, stubble, tall and slender... a well-defined face, a rather charming smil-

"Ai, Señorita, por favor, I just asked you a question," snapped the man in the coat, bringing (Name) back to reality with a snap of his fingers.

"Luis Sera, encantado," he mocked, "Are you here for the report on our latest advances in the pharmaceutical field? 

Her heart started beating fast as she realized that she had lost herself in her thoughts and had been caught staring at the man named Luis a bit too intensely. She straightened up, trying to regain her composure and seriousness so as not to lose her credibility, and raised her eyes to meet those of the researcher.

Blue or gray eyes? Maybe both? Well, it was an enchanting colo-

"(Name), please " came a sharp voice from behind the young woman.

A smirk was heard from the person still standing in the partially open door.

Fuck..,for the second time, she had lost herself in his gaze and had forgotten all her professionalism in a matter of seconds.

"We're ready, sorry for the delayed response, we're just intimidated by Umbrella's reputation. It's just the stress talking," (Name) tried to recover, gradually regaining her confidence. No matter who was in front of her, and no matter what he looked like, (Name) had a very important objective today.

Take Umbrella Down.

Luis Sera opened the door wide and gestured for the two reporters to enter his laboratory.

"So, this is stress, huh?" These words were spoken low enough for the cameraman not to hear, but said at the right moment for (Name) to understand them as she passed by the handsome researcher.

*

(Name) stood in front of the imposing facilities of laboratory number 6, immediately struck by the high-tech aspect of the place. The room was filled with machines whose names she could hardly imagine, tables filled with paper documents inscribed with diagrams that she barely understood. Samples were also stored on all sides. But the answers she was looking for about what Umbrella really was, or at least the paper evidence, seemed to be nowhere in sight.

Quick, she signaled to her camera-friend to turn it on, gripped her notebook tightly in her hands, and put on a confident air, leaving no trace of how she had behaved towards this man before entering the building.

"Zoom in on his face," she said firmly.

"I'm going straight to the point, Mr. Sera. There are rumors spreading about the company you work for," she said.

Luis' face tensed as he heard her first words,

"It is said that you are actually busy manufacturing secret bio-organic weapons to create new human species like super soldiers-"

The Umbrella researcher suddenly ordered security to remove the cameraman from the room as he found himself face to face with the young woman who had just lowered her microphone.

"Did I say something I shouldn't have?" (Name) said provocatively.

Luis took a few steps towards her, bringing his face close to hers, now just a few inches apart. As (Name) was not intimidated, she kept control of the situation, not moving her face an inch. she was determined to extract any useful reaction from the researcher.

"It's funny how I thought you were here for a report on our latest pharmaceutical advances," he said sharply.

"Maybe you had trouble reading our email," (Name) mocked, raising back her microphone right in front of her interlocutor's mouth. "I'm still waiting for your answer, Dr. Sera"

"You see, mi hermosa," Luis began, placing his finger on the microphone to reposition it, "I thought I was going to have a nice, interesting interview with a beautiful journalist that I could have taken to a hotel for the night if she had wanted to. But you just ruined the mood of the day, I'm afraid."

Her thoughts raced in her head as (Name) tried to find a coherent way to respond to the man who was just millimeters away from her face. She could feel her blood rushing in her veins as her face slightly flushed. She would have loved to spend the night in a hotel with him as he had suggested, and let him take care of her. Luis was exactly her type of man under normal circumstances. But today unfortunately, she had to try her best to achieve her professional goals, and had no choice but to ruin the mood, as he put it.

Seconds passed and the ticking of the needle on (Name)'s watch grew louder, as a small voice in her head told her that maybe she could try to combine pleasure and professionalism in this story.

As she slid her hand up Luis' leg delicately, (Name) stood on her tiptoes and began whispering in his ear.

"If you don't want to answer now, then maybe, just maybe," her hand moved up to Luis' belt buckle, playing with it as if to give him a hint of what she was going to propose, "I could give you what you wanted initially, before I 'ruined the mood', in exchange for some innocent information. No one would know who leaked it, handsome."

A wave of heat was felt below Luis' belt as he couldn't help but imagine the different positions in which he could have taken (Name) right now. Deep down, he couldn't deny the effect that these words had on him.

Without warning, he grabbed the young woman in front of him by the neck, eliciting a moan from (Name), who couldn't help but smile at the man’s action.

A brief silence hung in the air for a few seconds as Luis closed the gap between his lips and (name)'s, almost brushing them. A shiver ran down our journalist's spine as a tempest of emotions surged within her: excitement, passion, apprehension.

Their gazes locked once again, and their breaths grew more intense as his free hand slowly slid down (name)'s belly, making its way between her underwear and jeans, stopping just where he could feel her wet core.

« Don’t stop there. » breathed (Name) heavily.

The sensations were overwhelming, as time seemed to stand still for a few moments. Their hearts were pounding, their breaths were short, and only (name)'s hands trembled slightly, while the atmosphere crackled with palpable tension.

Unable to resist any longer, she tried to bring her lips closer, ready to dance with the man’s tongue.

"You wish," Luis said finally, pulling his face back just in time to barely avoid her kiss.

"Now get out of here and never set foot in this lab again, neither you or your cameraman boyfriend," he continued firmly, releasing (name)'s neck suddenly and turning his back on her, trying to hide the obvious bulge that had formed in his pants.

"You haven't heard the last of me, handsome " (name) retorted sharply, after picking up her bag from the floor and turning towards the exit.

[holewithinahole]

It’s always the quiet ones | Egon Spengler x nb!reader

Summary: “You’re not sleeping with it, are you?” said Peter, before looking back at Egon. The awkwardness of the scientist is heavy with the implication. But the implication is far naughtier than they could imagine.

Ao3 Link

Warning: Shameless smut (that’s all there is), vaginal sex (non-binary reader), oral sex, semi public sex, sex near hazardous substances, non native writer

Hello! I’m back from the deepest part of student hell to drop something I’ve been working on for a little while. I just needed to be dumped by my ex partner to have the final push to finish it lmao It’s completely self indulgent, with my childhood comfort character but I saw that there’s demand on tumblr? You naughty people.

It’s not Arcane related, I’m still on hiatus because I don’t feel like I’m mentally able to write so much requests. I hope you’ll still pardon me! See ya in super hell.

Egon Spengler is strangely demanding today, you muse to yourself as he crowds you against the working bench and proceeds to ravish your mouth thoroughly and diligently, all talented tongue and sporadic nibbles. Broad palms push your hips, long fingers dip into your skin and you sigh against his open mouth. There’s something exciting in the way he suddenly decided he was going to have his way with you on the same table he experiments on, upstairs of Ghostbusters headquarters, at four in the afternoon. Even knowing the boys out and Janine on her well-deserved winter break, never in a million years you’d have thought Egon capable of such a naughty act.

This is oddly out of character.

Your eyes flutter open, your tongue cautiously lapping at his lower lip. His eyes are fixing something behind you, not even aware that you’re looking at him. You chuckle internally, your hands sliding inside his lab coat, feeling his ribs through his woolen sweater vest. Egon, still focusing on his unknown task, gasps softly when you grab his lapels and force his attention on you.

Throwing an eye behind your shoulder, you arch an eyebrow, smirking: “I knew you had something else in mind.”

Next to you, innocently sits a beaker, half-filled with a pink substance.

You hop on the bench. “What is this then? Slime?”

Egon nods, jaw tensed. You cock your head to the right, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, noting with delighted amusement his following gaze.

“Am I part of your newest experiment, Dr. Spengler?”

You can’t help the breathlessness that accompanies your statement. Your fingers graze against the newly exposed skin of your stomach and those brown eyes follow.

“Slime is a psychomagnotheric substance,” comes the technical explanation, a slight rasp at the back of his throat. “We’ve already performed several tests with Ray to assess its reaction to positive stimuli and—“

“You want to observe the positive influence of sex on it.”

His gaze finally jumps back to your face and you’re having a hard time hiding the fondness at the corner of your mouth.

“I do apologize if I overstepped,” he says, pulling away just a fraction.

Straightening up, you wrap both your arms behind his neck.

“Don’t we both have to be, uh, positively emotionally engaged in the activity for it to work?” You ask, sliding your fingers in his hair, fondling gently at his neck.

You physically feel the tension slowly leaving his body. Egon is all subtlety, discreet displays of emotions that you learned to observe and understand.

“Stimulating you enough should not be an issue.” The smirk that adorns his face is painfully attractive, it sends a thrill that travels to your loins.

He lowers his face, lips grazing on the sensitive skin of your neck, the hot tide of his breath on your skin makes you dizzy. “For my part, I have to be extremely focused on the experiment.”

You feel yourself being leaned backward on the working bench as his mouth continues its slow descent along the column of your neck. When he kisses your neck, something exciting runs underneath your skin: something akin to tickles and goosebumps all in one. Something that makes you want to either curl yourself up or expose your throat for more.

On your left, your eye catches something. Shoving Egon back gently, he straightens up, intrigued.

“Better keep track of everything then,” you smile, pointing at the tape recorder he uses to record himself tinkering with the experiments at hand.

You see the slight confusion in his eyes before the thought finally settles.

“It’d be for the best, yes.” It’s now painfully obvious that he’s hard in his neatly pressed pants.

He strolls to the device and turns it on as you shed your shirt, baring your chest completely. His eyes are boring holes into you behind his glasses that he pushes up his nose before starting the recording.

“Experiment number thirteen on generating a positive reaction from the slime.” Egon motions you closer with a curved finger and you happily sauntered toward him. “Today, I have an assistant.”

Oh, that mischievous twinkle bears heavy consequences. “I’ll have to ask you to comment on our future tests.”

“You’re the scientist here, Doctor,” you try to deflect.

“As this experiment relies heavily on your impressions, I’ll have to ask you to be vocal.”

Bastard.

Hands are soon back sliding up and down your still-clothed thighs. “Shall we begin?”

Any retort genuinely dies in your throat as he presses against you, his pelvis delightfully grinding against your lower stomach. That stunt with the tape recording was fruitful both for immediate results and for the long-term satisfaction of knowing Egon Spengler’s a kinky fucker.

Always the quiet ones, you muse.

For an instant, you could have been in your apartment, a blissful evening with Dr. Spengler on top of you. All roaming hands on your skin, slowly going down, down to business. Quick and efficient, that’s the way you both like it. But right at this moment, if you hadn’t memorized all their calluses and crevices, those hands could belong to someone else. Those hands that barely caress a nipple, enough to make your breath catch.

The deliberateness of how his knuckles rack over the sensitive area, pads of his fingers pinching, rolling, spreading this tightness in your guts. The more it goes on, the more you can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Stimulation of erogenous zones, specifically the areola area.” His voice is so even. “Your impressions?”

You frown. “It should be obvious.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t plug in the camera.”

The scoff shamefully turns into a soft moan thanks to a deliberate hard pinch on your right nipple.

“Specificities, please.”

“Damn it!” You sigh. “It feels good, all right?” You don’t like to talk during sex and he usually doesn’t either.

“Is slight pain enhancing the experience?” He asks, pinching both your nipples hard.

“Ah!” You don’t expect the surge shooting through you, your chest skin tugging almost uncomfortably as more wetness spreads in your underwear.

“Yes?” Egon asks.

“Yes!” You hiss through clenched teeth.

“Conclusive experiment then.” He dips down, sticking his tongue out to lap at the reddened skin, deliberately avoiding your nipple. “Although your slight irritation might be a predicament to our progress.”

No shit. “I wonder why.”

His mouth encloses the tip of your tit, suckling softly, swirling his tongue as a reminiscence of your kiss. You don’t even bother to suppress the gasp that leaves your mouth, getting lost in the moist entrapment, in the way his long nose nuzzles your supple skin, in the soft brush of his hair raising goosebumps in its path. Your fingers fully tangle in it, holding him close to you, pushing him into your chest so he can feel your heartbeat.

Perhaps a wonderful part of Egon’s brain will decide that your BPM is important data to collect.

You have a moment of awareness, registering that the only sounds that will be heard in the recording are your gasps and soft moans and the indecent slurps of Egon’s tongue. It makes your face flame up, your cheeks so hot you feel the perspiration on your skin.

What would be more embarrassing, you wonder, one of the boys finding the recording or getting caught right here right now?

“Focus.” The sound of Egon’s voice startles you. “It’s supposed to be positive reinforcement.”

“Uh,” you battle your eyelashes.

Egon straightens up, righting his glasses on his face. “Let’s move onward.”

“You—“ Agile fingers take hold of your pants’ button and pop it off, unzipping them before silently asking you with a tug to shimmy out of them. “He’s forcing me out of my clothes,” you say, directing your words at the tape.

“A necessary part of the experiment.”

Your pants are halfway across your thighs when he grabs hold of your waist and hoists you on the bench.

“Holy—“ You gasp, naturally wrapping your arms around his neck. Who would have thought you had a thing for displays of strength?

“Would you mind getting rid of your garments?” Egon smirks knowingly.

Grumbling, you untie your shoes and take the rest of your pants and your socks off, throwing them across the room. You now face Egon almost entirely naked while he still stands in his button-down and sweater vest, lab coat on top, with his pants slightly wrinkled – although unmistakably tented. Oh, and how could you forget the goddamn tie… You would have also gotten rid of your underwear if he hadn’t pressed his palm on your mount.

“Right down to business I see,” you pant.

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re burning up here.” The pressure of the heel of his palm squishing down your outer labia against your clit feels beautiful. “Your underwear is soaked.”

You’re torn between the rush of pleasure and the urge to slap him for how unaffected he sounds.

“This doesn’t soun—ah, very professional, Doctor.”

The alternating amounts of pressure have you moving your hips, searching for more, demanding a faster pace, a harder push. He remains desperately steady.

“Copious amount vaginal discharge,” Egon notes, and a huge rush of shame shoots through you. “More than average I’d say.”

“You’d say?” You choke out.

“You do appear to be wetter than usual although we’ve barely started our activities.” The bastard smirks.

Why is that, lingers in the air, a loud but unspoken question. And you’re now certain Egon takes his own immediate and long-term satisfaction knowing you’re a kinky fucker as well. You’re just a couple of degenerates and doesn’t that turn you on more than it should.

His palm presses more firmly against you and you can’t take it anymore, you need his finger on you, in you, anywhere but separated by this stupid piece of fabric.

“Stop— stop spreading it!” You cry out stupidly. “You’re ruining a very decent pair of underwear.”

Egon scoffs. “I am?”

The squish that follows is a betrayal from your body you’ll never forget. “Take it off,” you mewl.

So he steps back, stops touching you altogether, and raises an eyebrow at you. Groaning, you get rid of your soaked underwear, throwing it at a random place in the room, quickly forgetting about the uncomfortable wet sensation because Egon sheds off his lab coat in a swift movement. You are captivated by the stretch of his sweater vest against his chest, and even more entranced by the slow teasing appearance of his forearms as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Isn’t having a lab coat an essential security guideline?”

You keep spewing teasing sentences but you know that your sanity is hanging by a thread.

He hums: “When manipulating hazardous substances, yes.”

He finishes securing his sleeves in the curve of his elbows and steps in front of you once more. Your treacherous heart skips a beat; you don’t even understand why.

“Having your way with me right next to an unknown paranormal substance isn’t considered a hazard?”

“The slime is neutronized, there’s no risk of causticity for your skin,” Egon answers in all seriousness.

Right now, it’s his big callused hands that you want on your skin.

And he delivers by grabbing each thigh in each hand, spreading them almost uncomfortably. Fuck, you think because you can feel how wet you are as the cold sensation spreads from your core to the cleft of your ass cheeks. By the end of his experiment, you’ll have dribbled all over the table.

He leans to you and captures your lips in another searing kiss. The curve of his nose fits perfectly next to yours, as both your mouths mold into a new shape. All your senses are awake and aware: your taste buds sweet from the teeth-rooting chocolate bars he loves to eat, your skin shivering from pleasure, and the always-too-cold air of the lab. Your muscles are quivering from being all crooked, folded over a flat surface in that way.

Even at an even level, he towers over you with his height and the wide square-ness of his frame. You want to press against him, squish your very self on his body. Although he might not like his clothes to be ruined by your moistness, you entertain the idea in your head because nothing turns you on more than seeing Egon Spengler messy and disheveled.

“As I won’t be able to, I’m counting on you to voice out your comments,” he says against your lips.

You don’t have time to ask why, his face is already down between your legs. Your breath hitches, stops, leaves your body entirely.

Down to business, you reminisce.

He starts by peppering small kisses inside your inner thighs but it’s not worshipping, it’s edging. You sometimes feel his tongue lap out at your skin, you also shiver when he gently blows against your core, sending another wave of chills on your body.

“Egon…” you sigh.

As on cue, he decides to spread your labia open with his fingers, and dear God, you can feel his breath tickling your clit, an inch away from any real pleasure. An inch he soon reduces to nothing as he licks a long, fat stroke all the way up your sex.

It’s a real moan that escapes your mouth this time, already thirsty for the next move. He keeps lapping, up and down, flattening his tongue completely against your opening, drinking more of the wetness amassed in his median sulcus.

You’re slowly but surely being driven to the edge, just hovering over the precipice but there’s still so much that you need to finally accept to let yourself fall. So he takes your metaphorical hand and leads you closer by finally pressing his nose in your pubes, jaw slacking open as he delivers a strong suction right on your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your hand grabs his hair, instinctively guiding him closer.

It went through you like a zap, a single strike of lightning. Your clit is tingling, your cunt dripping and your whole body shivering. But it doesn’t stop there as the very tip of his tongue teases you, a quick succession of round-way trips, delivered with accurate frequency.

His brows are furrowed; you can feel the crease in his forehead as you gently pass your hand in the hair at the base of his cranium, flattening his curls. The action makes his eyes snap up at you. You feel stupid for staring at him without saying a word but you lost all vocabulary with the simple sight of such a special man pleasuring you so unapologetically.

He draws back a little, the corners of his mouth and his chin are glistening.

Filthy, so fucking filthy.

“Any comments?” His voice is deeper than usual, slightly scratching.

“I’m kinda at a loss of words right now,” you say genuinely.

Egon nods and, as if endowed with an important life-or-death mission, dives in once more, this time ignoring your throbbing clit to focus on your opening. The feeling of his tongue breaching in, squirming inside is everything and nothing at once. You do openly moan, trusting your hips to his face, again and again, chasing this half-sensation of fullness. The pleasure is not a spike of hormones like having your clit sucked and suckled. It’s a diffuse sensation of pleasure, the simple erotic feeling of his slippery tongue massaging your walls.

He trusts in and out, everything around you is just blurred lights behind your eyelids but you snap them open when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb without stopping his previous activities. You know this instant that you’re going to come on his face if he keeps delivering the most perfect movements to all the right places.

“Egon, please…” You squeeze at his curls. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

It’s with a raised eyebrow that he finally quits the warmth between your thighs. “Wouldn’t that be the desired ending point of our experiment?”

He grabs a paper napkin that was innocently left there by Ray when he brought food earlier and wipes his mouth off your juices before throwing it in the bin.

You watch his movements, catching your breath and your trail of thought. “I need more than that.”

“Please do specify what is that and how can I give you more of it.”

A gentleman and an asshole, all in one. You want so much to tell him to go to hell but you’re so far gone in preliminaries you don’t think yourself able to delay your primal need to be fucked.

“I’ll show you,” you say, motioning him closer.

He has this look where he’s slightly apprehensive of the logical pursuit of things but he steps in between your legs once more. Your left-hand slides behind his neck and beckons him closer, close enough for you to press your other hand to the front of his pants. His mouth opens slightly but he doesn’t move away so you keep palming him, feeling how he hardens against your fingers. Even through his loose-fitting pants, the hard line of his cock is flagrant.

Stopping your neck petting, you unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper, and finally putting your digits on something more palpable.

“I thought we agreed that I had to focus exclusively on the experiment,” he sighs.

“Actually,” you slip your hand farther in between his pants and the tight fit of his cotton briefs. “I never agreed to anything.”

The hotness is making your hand moist but you reveal in the sound he makes when you push harder, full hand flat against the entirety of his dick, the tip of your fingers grazing the beginning of his balls.

“Remind me to have you sign a written contract next time.”

Despite his tone-down exterior, you notice his eyelids dropping, the small exhales leaving his parted lips because your eyes are fixed on his face, registering.

“Next time?”

There’s definitely a joke underlying your question but his dark gaze makes you question everything. Damn, he’s really into that, isn’t he?

Into you, displayed on his working bench to be examined.

“Egon, I need you to fuck me—” you choke out. “—right now.”

Strangely, there are no dry comments anymore. Only the hard click of his shut jaw and the slight fumble of his hand slapping yours away, diving into his briefs and finally – finally, getting out his cock. If you had more time, you’d put your mouth on it, just to have a taste of the glistening circumcised head. But for now, you stay perfectly content watching it disappear in the tight ring of his fist.

Realistically, you’ve stayed perfectly content for exactly five seconds.

“Come on,” you whine, spreading your legs. Ah, there is the aforementioned puddle.

“Yes,” he huffs. Yes, ok.”

With one hand, he grabs your left thigh, the other guiding his length closer and closer to your core, your heart beating furiously in your chest. His gland makes contact with your entrance. With it, he traces an unknown pattern on your lips, pushing its slit on your clit and mingling both your fluids together. Definitely driving you insane.

“E-gon—“

So he pushes inside, in one, unstopping, hard push until he’s sheathed, your body just a pliant scabbard. You choke on any retort, hissing, the stretch is obviously tight. Yet, deliciously aching, you engulf his length entirely and the sole sensation of your walls rubbed in that perfect way is almost too much. You tug him closer, finally pressing your sweating body to the unruffled surface of his clothes.

His big hand return to your other thigh and he fucks into you. His snaps are precise and strong; he completely erases any traces of pain with the fluid movement of his hips. You’re definitively panting, your hot breath bouncing back from his cheeks to yours and you forget about the weird twist of your body. Your squished position is making the column of his dick rub perfectly at the top of your entrance.

“Ah— oh fuck,” you close your eyes, lost in the heat.

Egon hums and hides in your neck once more, seemingly conflicted between kissing and teasing your skin with his breath. So close to your ear, you can discern the hitch in his pants, his hidden soft moans, and your heart sores.

“Can I—“ he whispers.

You turn your head to look at him, at his open face and big brown eyes and you know he could ask anything, you’d say yes. So, you nod.

He pushes you back gently on the bench, pushing away pencils and cables in a broad swipe of his arm. Some clatter on the ground and his impatience startles a laugh out of you. There’s a small rictus at the corner of his mouth that could either be a grin or a scowl; it only makes you smile more. Impatience is also starting to run wild underneath your skin. You spread your legs wider, your fingers lazily grazing your stomach up to your chest then dipping all the way down.

It’s indecent how you stretch around him; you love to feel it with the tips of your fingers. You’re stretching so wide your clit feels tight when you tug at it. It’s dry but it still grants you with a few shots of hormones. When you throw a look at Egon, you realize he’s watching, alternating with your face, the sight of his dick buried inside you and your self-pleasuring display. He sucks his thumb in his mouth, efficiently coating it before pushing your hand away and rubbing circles right on top of the bud.

The lubrication makes the action more pleasurable; reviving your calmed-down orgasm. Except, this time, you can feel yourself contract around his sex, as if wishing to suck him impossibly deeper. This small moment of trance, the calm before the storm, stops when he withdraws his hand, anchoring himself again to your legs.

From then, you don’t have to tell him anything: he snaps his hips forward hard. Your body pushes into the bench, your hand pointlessly grabbing the edge to keep you from slipping. From there, it doesn’t stop. He fucks into you ruthlessly, the position connecting him to you from tip to base. The buckle of his belt whacks the tender skin of your ass cheeks contrasting with the soft cotton of his pants. His right-hand pushes your thigh onto the flat surface of the table and your muscles are screaming with the stretch but they’re quieter than your moans.

“There— ah, please—“

He listens. The tip of his dick is lodged deep in your loins, the back-and-forth movement stimulating all the right nerves. You’re squeezing him, your folds moving with his cock, sucking him inside and locking him in, even when he pushes back. Sometimes the ridges of his head catch on your tight opening before plunging back inside, making you yelp. You wonder if you’re going to cum on his dick, too stimulated to prevent it.

You moan to the sounds of his slaps, to the rhythm of the bench creaking. Your eyes roll back when he aims a perfectly good shift and your free hand plays with your nipple, fueling the fire in your body.

“Shit,” Egon huffs out, his gaze glazy behind his glasses.

You understand. “Close too— just a little—“

He nods and aren’t his motions the best, the most precise… more erratic, quicker and shorter yes, but oh so good. You can feel the tell-tale tightening in your guts so you chase your own orgasm by pushing back, meeting his hips. His ball-sack slaps against your ass and your skins meet in loud smacks, definitely resonating in all the firehouse.

“Do you need—“

“No, no, just—“ you mewl. “Keep doing that, you’re perfect.”

The little moan he lets out travels through your body like wildfire. And there, you feel it: the hot spill of his semen inside you, coating your walls and it’s the mere sensation alone that finally pushes you over the edge. Your vagina cramps around his cock, your own ejaculation milky, dripping at the base of his dick and the noise is vulgar, loud and so fucking hot.

For a little while, he keeps trusting in, making sure everything belonging to him got stuffed inside you. It makes you clench harder, divided between chasing this almost-unbearable tightness or crying for him to stop. You have no idea if you’re actually crying but your cheeks feel hot as your body spasms, mouth lewdly hanging open, could you truly cum a second time from overstimulation alone?

But thankfully, he slowly slides out, both of you sighing. You immediately stick your hand down, feeling the dribbles of cum coming out of you, trickling down in the crack of your ass, on the table and on the ground.

Your breath finally settles down after a few minutes. Your eyes have drifted closed without you noticing. Your heartbeat is slowing down and you feel a deep wave of contentment replacing the past hunger.

“Hey,” his voice is back to its even self.

You crack one eye open. He holds one of the napkins, motioning you to sit up as he diligently wipes out most of your spend. The napkin is rough on your skin but you silently thank him nonetheless.

You throw a glance around you. You made an absolute mess. “Ew,” you scowl.

The little smile lightening his face makes your heart throb for an entirely different sentiment than before. You notice he’d already tug his cock back into his briefs like nothing happened. On the front of his pants however…

“Oops,” you chuckle. “’Guess you’ll have to keep working with your lab coat closed.”

Egon’s scowl of disgust is barely concealed as he unsuccessfully tries to wipe the remains of your self-lubrication on his cotton pants.

“I should change,” he states bluntly. One of his sleeves has slid along his arm during the act and his hair is truly a sight; you take great pride in his actual state.

“I think you look amazing.”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds before a beautiful crooked smile stretch on his face. You blame it on post-coital bliss but your whole body is screaming your adoration for this man.

“So,” your own voice cracks but you ignore it. “Successful experiment?”

Egon clears his throat. “I think more testing is required.”

Of course.