#nurse to give injection at home | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

icarryitin · 6 months ago

Text

Episode 18: Help Me?

spencer reid/gn!reader

i love being in this guy’s brain there is just something so Character about him🧡 and happy birthday to you anon!!🥳

series masterlist

word count: 4.5k // warnings: injury description (dislocated shoulder), mentions of injections and pills for pain relief, poor and inaccurate medical knowledge, non-sexual undressing, would you believe me if i told you the sexual tension in the second half of this was accidental? for those reasons this is 18+

summary: You get injured on a case, and Spencer gets to play nurse. It’s a special kind of torture for both of you.

“Try it, see what happens.”

You appear out of the shadows ahead of them, the gun in your hands aimed carefully at the Unsub’s back, like a goddamn guardian angel.

The guy isn’t going to give up without a fight, even with three federal agents to contend with, that much is obvious. His grip on his weapon is far shakier than any of yours, fingers twitching ever closer to the trigger. You’ve made the split second decision to launch yourself at him before he has the chance to fire off a shot.

Which means Spencer has a front row seat to the sickening thud of your side against the ground when you tackle the Unsub. He’s grateful that he and Hotch aren’t staring down the barrel of a gun anymore, but less grateful that it’s come at the price of the grimace clear on your face. You’ll be bruised for sure, going down as hard as you do.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks you as he hauls the Unsub up by his cuffed wrists. You take a moment to check yourself over, mentally inventory every joint and nerve, before you nod. Spencer holds a hand out towards you, which is taken without hesitation and you start pulling yourself up off the ground.

The crack of your shoulder as it pops out of the socket is so loud that the vibration of it tingles through your interlaced fingers and all the way up to his own.

A sharp yelp, followed by a weak whimper that makes his stomach flip, and he drops your hand like it’s scalding hot. You pull it into your chest with your good arm, palm cradling your elbow to give yourself a little support. Maybe you’d hit the ground a little harder than you meant to. It’s definitely dislocated. He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s manoeuvring around you, where you sit pouting in a dusty heap. It’s what he tells himself anyway, as he slips large hands underneath your FBI vest – fingers pressed snugly against your ribs, separated by only a thin shirt, and he carefully helps you to your feet. The action has his face dangerously close to yours, so close that he’s terrified you’ll be able to hear how shallow his breaths are. But you seem to be far too focused on your own breathing to really register his proximity. Hotch is ahead already, Unsub in tow, but you’re the only thing Spencer is worried about right now. Someone else can collect the abandoned firearm from the ground, he has more important things to do. Like getting you into the care of a professional instead of his clumsy hands.

“Can you walk?”

A rhetorical question if he’s ever asked one. It’s your arm he’s pulled out of the socket, not a leg. You nod anyway, gently, but you don’t pull away from him. Instead your voice is soft, unsure.

“Help me?”

Of course he does, as if he’d be able to do anything else.

Does he really need to keep a hold on you, help you across the warehouse floor and out to an ambulance? Probably not. Does he do it anyway? Absolutely. You don’t seem to mind the closeness, judging by the way you lean into the solidity of him as the two of you shuffle towards the open door. He relishes in it, just a little. Because for all the camaraderie and familiarity that has built your friendship over the past few years, touches like this are so rare. Rare and usually instigated by you, when a case has hit him a little too close to home. It’s precious. To have you in his arms the way he’s wanted, wished for, literally dreamed about. There’s an irony in his earlier misplaced attempt to help you up, somewhere. Why can he only have you this close when one of you is hurting?

Raised eyebrows from the rest of the team be damned, he’ll carry you to the ambulance if he has to. He doesn’t but he’d try if you asked.

Spencer has seen all manner of terrible things. He’s seen them happen to strangers, friends, he’s been the one under the spotlight more than once. But he finds himself wholly unprepared to watch you wince as you hop up onto the back of the ambulance, legs dangling over the edge, arm still cradled protectively close to your chest. You flinch almost violently when the paramedic approaches you with outstretched hands which, in turn, only makes you hiss in pain. Your apology is small, quiet, sheepish. Everything he knows you not to be, which only makes him feel that much worse about being the reason you’re in this position in the first place. He’s not, the little logical voice in his brain tells him it was the fall you took, but he’s the one who offered to help you up. Can’t take that back.

“Do you have to?” You’re arguing with the paramedic when his brain checks back in to the conversation.

A sling has been placed by the open medical bag beside you, but it’s the object next to it that has your eyes wider than dinner plates. A needle, carefully sealed in its little package, ready and waiting to give you the pain relief that all three of you know you’re in desperate need of. There’s no way your shoulder can be reset here without it.

“You look at dead bodies all day, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of this?” The paramedic means well, he knows she does, but the grating sound of the sterile packaging being ripped open only serves to shrink you away from it even further.

“Phobias are rarely rational. In fact, the dictionary definition refers to one as being an extreme or irrational fear of, or aversion to, something. Phobias relating to medical procedures are pretty common actually.”

The barely hidden eye roll he gets from the paramedic would suggest he’s not helping the situation, but it’s the look that you give him. The one he gets across coroner slabs and conference tables and crime scenes, that tells him he is.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to, considering this is kind of my fault,” Spencer holds his hand up between you, wiggling his fingers in front of a sad little smile, “But squeeze away.”

“I don’t know, I might break it.” You’re going for a light-hearted joke, but your gritted teeth pay you no favours.

“Then we’ll call it even.”

You take his hand, and he wonders if he’ll need to ask the paramedic to break out the defibrillator next – judging by the way his heart stutters in his chest.

And, to your credit, you only almost break it. The first squeeze is tight, muscles in your forearm trembling as the needle plunges deep into your shoulder. It won’t be enough to completely numb you, the paramedic confirms, but it’ll go a fair way towards dulling the pain. You should really go to a hospital, a bodge job in the back of an ambulance isn’t exactly Bureau protocol, but he knows that isn’t happening. God forbid you ever get shot, he’s sure that getting you treated properly for something like that would be more traumatic for you than any injury.

The second squeeze isn’t something he’s prepared for. You hang onto his hand as though your life depends on it once the paramedic has decided the painkillers have kicked in enough, though her fingers on your shoulder still have you tensing. She tells you to relax, uselessly. Instead, you turn your head away, bury it into Spencer’s shoulder, and dig your nails into the back of his hand. His knuckles crack under the pressure, synchronised popping absolutely miniscule compared to the thunderous pop your shoulder gives when the paramedic manipulates it back into place. Tears seep through his shirt as they dampen his shoulder, the tension in your jaw gives away the sob you’re biting back. You swallow it before you pull your face from the security of his warmth – brave face, as always – and dutifully allow the paramedic to tug the Kevlar vest over your head to make way for the sling she’s prepared.

You’re too on edge to really pay attention to the instructions she’s giving you, too preoccupied on slowing your heart rate to hear about the over the counter pain meds you should take, how long you need to keep the sling on. So, Spencer listens. He remembers, as he always does. He nods and tells her he’ll make sure you do everything by the book, because he knows you won’t be on your way to the doctor’s office in a hurry if your recovery doesn’t go to plan.

JJ popping up in your field of vision seems to lighten your mood, the stiffness falls away and you choke out a laugh alongside a sarcastic comment about heroics being above your paygrade. It’s fake, the laughter. Your spine is still rigid, smile a little too tight to be true. But nobody else seems to notice. They’re just glad you’re alright. Something about your rapid mood change scratches an itch in his brain, the smallest part of it that’s just a little smug. Because you don’t let on about your fear to the others. Just him.

Spencer piles into the back of the second SUV after you, behind Rossi and Emily, and takes it upon himself to make sure you’re strapped in. Admittedly, you could manage it yourself, but he doesn’t want you to. There are eyes on the back of his head when he leans over to carefully pull the seatbelt across you, when he makes sure to steer clear of your sling, but they’re easy to ignore when you’re watching him the way you are. Your quiet affirming hum follows the click of the seat belt plug when you meet his questioning gaze, calming the pounding in his chest and he doesn’t pull back right away. Involuntarily, his eyes drop to your lips for the barest of moments.

He could kiss you.

Right here, right now. In the back of the SUV, with your arm in a sling, and your colleagues watching on. He could do it. But he doesn’t.

He knows what he wants your first kiss to be like – a little pocket of his brain is dedicated to it, plays scenario after scenario in the moments before he settles down to sleep every night. Silly little bedtime stories.

Except they’re not silly, because somewhere along the way he stumbled out of his harmless little crush and into something much more serious. He knows what it is, he won’t put a name to it. Instead, he daydreams. It’s not always the same, the location varies - sometimes you’re at work, in the bullpen or the conference room, or obscured from the rest of the team by the metallic bulk of an SUV. Sometimes you’re in his apartment, in the kitchen, by the window in the living room, in the doorway of his bedroom. Sometimes it’s just a street corner, at night, at midday, dawn, dusk. But you, you’re always the same. You always look at him with a smile that could light the entire city, and he just tells you.

Spills his guts out all over the floor, every part of him left raw and vulnerable, as he tells you he loves you - has always loved you. Maybe even before he met you. He tells you how his heart stopped in his chest that first morning you walked into the BAU office, how he nearly spilled his coffee down his shirt, how his glasses steamed up with the heat from his cheeks. How Derek, JJ, Garcia, the entire team has been teasing him for literal years. How sometimes he thinks he catches you looking at him, but that’d be just too good to be true wouldn’t it?

And then your smile grows, and you take a step further into his space until there’s scarcely any room between you. That’s when you tell him you do look at him, you look at him all the time. Because you love him, just as hopelessly and desperately and effortlessly as he loves you. That’s when he kisses you. When he grasps your face in his hands and takes a deep breath of you before crashing into you with a bruising force. You take it, of course you do, just as eagerly as he pours himself into it. The kiss of a lifetime. That’s how he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of that, not now.

So, he pulls back, plugs his own seatbelt in, and lets himself wallow in the post-case stillness that settles in the car. Punctuated by Penelope’s voice through the speaker on your phone though it may be. She’s relieved, a little mad that you’d put yourself in harm’s way, but ultimately glad you’re safe. He smiles to himself at that, he can’t help but agree.

Quantico’s parking garage is dark this time of night, of course it would be, but the chill of the concrete seeps into his bones. You shiver beside him as he helps you slide out of the SUV. Goodbyes are short, sweet, exhausted. Each member of the team wandering towards their own vehicles, leaving you and Spencer standing alone under the fluorescent lights.

“Let’s get you home, superhero.” He grins at you as his hand settles gently on the small of your back, guiding you towards the street exit.

It’s not far to the train station, the streets are still busy even at this time of night. Tourists and businessmen and politicians all alike. But you don’t get jostled in the slightest, he makes sure of it - carefully weaving through the throngs to get you safely to your platform. It’s only as he steps onto the train with you that you realise his own home is in the complete opposite direction. It’s borderline unfair how fuzzy he feels at your concern for his own journey.

“I said I was getting you home, not getting you to the station.” He can’t help the fond smile that settles on his features as you look up at him from your seat. He’s chosen to stand, partially in front of you, as a sort of makeshift barrier between your injured arm and any potential commuters who might stumble into you. He holds his hand out to you expectantly and it takes you another moment to fish your keys out of your bag. They’re placed softly in his palm, your fingers barely brushing his. The touch is so gentle compared to the way you almost squeezed that same hand to death only a couple of hours earlier. He just about manages to suppress the shudder that threatens to buckle his knees, and he counts his lucky stars that your building is only a block away from the train’s destination.

The thought only occurs to Spencer when he’s halfway over the threshold of your apartment, too preoccupied with getting you back safely to realise he’s actually never been in your home before. Organised chaos is the term he’d use. The open plan kitchen and living area is tidy but cluttered, books of every genre piled on shelves with no real strategy, a haphazard stack of second hand vinyls that are mostly Tom Waits sit atop an old record player, a small collection of cacti in mismatched terracotta pots are lined up on your little kitchen windowsill. The cupboards are a deep green, which should really be at odds with the peach tinged wash on the walls, but the combination is just soft enough to work. It’s very you.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to stay.”

Your name leaves his lips in the same tone it usually does before he can stop it, the same heavy sigh that wraps around the letters more often than not. God, you know exactly how to push his buttons, even when you don’t mean to. You’re missing the point entirely – he wants to take care of you. It’s so rare that you let him.

“Nice try,” He says as he sets your work bag down on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table, “Get changed, I’ll fix up some dinner.”

“You will?” The teasing grin on your face is either because you don’t think he can cook, or because you can’t. He’s leaning towards the former.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.”

You stand there for another long few seconds, just watching him. It’s not dissimilar to the look you gave him at the ambulance, in the SUV, on the train home. Like there’s something you’re desperate to say to him; only, you’re not sure how to say it. So you turn on your heel and close the bedroom door behind you.

Spencer physically has to shake off the weight of your gaze before he can move again, even after you’re gone. His own bag finds its place beside yours, jacket folded and draped neatly over the back of the metal chair. It’s the kind of dining set he’d expect to see outside a Parisian cafe, as opposed to being tucked in the corner of a DC apartment. Chipped white metalwork and all, probably originally a garden set, but it fits the eclectic thrift store vibe you’ve curated throughout the space. He finds himself drifting towards your overstuffed bookshelf, to the beat up record player and the pile of albums - the protective sleeve of each one shabbier than the last. He’d been right at first glance, the collection is mostly second-hand Tom Waits albums - with a little Queen, The Magnetic Fields, and Fleetwood Mac in the mix. The album on top is the most dog-eared, and he doesn’t have to employ a single one of his profiling skills to know this one is the most loved, most played, and he’s sure you’ll appreciate the comfort of some background noise. So he’s concentrating on sliding the record out of the sleeve, carefully placing it onto the turntable, and setting the needle down.

The bluesy first bars of Tom Waits’ Heartattack and Vine fill the room at the same time you open the bedroom door, looking more than a little sorry for yourself. And, to his credit, Spencer does a pretty good job of not laughing at the picture of you in the open doorway.

You’ve got yourself tangled up, all wrinkled shirtsleeves and oozing embarrassment - one sleeve dangles empty by your side where the other is still firmly encased by the sling, your sole free arm pokes out of the bottom of your sweater. Your eyebrows are drawn as you look everywhere but at him.

“Can you…?” You trail off. A breath pushes its way out of your lungs, half-sigh and half-helpless laugh.

“Come on.” He erases the distance between you in two strides, hands turning you at the waist before he can even really think about what he’s doing. You shuffle into the room ahead of him, soft rug shielding your socked feet from the cold of the wooden floor. He’s pleased to find the same decorative tastes extend through to your bedroom.

Another bookshelf, also stuffed to the brim with enough material to start your own bookstore. A little wooden desk by the window paired with a chair that doesn’t match, the wall to the right of it is plastered in multicoloured post it notes - a few of them catch his eye, reminders and ideas and shopping lists. Your bedspread is the same dark green as your kitchen cabinets, although it’s mostly obscured by a mess of patchwork blankets and jewel toned decorative pillows. Your sunshine plush has pride of place balanced against the left-hand bedpost on top of the headboard. Even without an eidetic memory, he’d remember the look on your face when he won it for you. Undercover at a travelling carnival in Oregon, the job at hand was to lure out an Unsub whose tastes fit you to a T, but he’d been uncharacteristically powerless to resist at least trying to get something for you. Your cover was a couple, anyway. He’d only been in character. Not only do you still have it, but it has pride of place, and something about it has his pride rearing its head.

You’re fussing with your pyjamas, a threadbare hoodie and garishly patterned sweatpants, when he turns his attention back to you. The reality of the situation seems to hit you both in the same moment.

Spencer is going to have to undress you.

It’s not how he imagined it would be - and that is definitely not something he needs to think about right now. He could keep his eyes closed? Although not being able to see where he should put his hands is arguably more dangerous than it would be to pay attention. He has to clear his throat before he can find his voice.

“I’m going to have to take this off,” He gestures to the sling, hoping he sounds less noticeably wrecked to you than he does to himself, “But we’ll go slow, okay?”

It’s cruel, is what it is, to watch you nod your agreement, to witness your unshakeable trust that he won’t hurt you so closely. Ultimately, it’s not overly different to the way he checks over your protective vest. There’s a strategy, a system to it just the same as the task that lies ahead, and he’ll follow it step by scientific step.

The sling is first, straps carefully undone and the support sliding off your arm - you both support it, your elbow in his palm where yours settles under your wrist. The one free hand you have between you, Spencer’s, works your shirt up over your uninjured shoulder and tugs it over your head. His eyes never drift beyond what you’ve asked of him, though it isn’t for lack of temptation. He slides the remaining sleeve off of your injured arm with a touch so light that neither of you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the skim of his fingers over your bare skin. Your hoodie replaces your work shirt just as carefully, in reverse. Injured arm first, head, uninjured arm. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he concentrates on looping the sling over the thick cotton, securing your arm tight to your chest again. Job done, and without too much embarrassment. He’d call that a success.

“Would you mind-” You struggle for a moment, “The clasp is fiddly.”

Spencer doesn’t know what you mean at first, and then it clicks - and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You need him to undo your trousers. He can do that, he can do it. He might feel like he’s about to spontaneously combust over the request, but he can do it.

There’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for you, to tell the truth.

It takes him longer than it should to slip the hook out of its clasp, usually nimble fingers fumbling under the weight of both of your gazes. But he doesn’t stop there. Because his usually brilliant mind is buzzing with static and his hands are moving of their own accord and the teeth of the zip on your trousers as he pulls it down is loud.

Spencer pulls back like he’s been shocked, while your eyes remain firmly glued to his hands. Hands that now wring themselves with anxiety as he quietly asks if you can manage the rest. You don’t respond verbally - it takes another long second, but you start shimmying the trousers off of your hips with your free hand. The slightest glimpse of bare thigh has him spinning on his heel and marching towards the kitchen in search of food.

He’s not thinking about the soft material of your sweatpants being pulled carefully over your legs in the other room, as he roots around in your kitchen cupboards. He’s not. A can of chopped tomatoes, a handful of half-empty spice jars, just about enough dry spaghetti for two. It’ll do. A pot of water is set on the stove to boil, the noise is enough of a distraction when the bedroom door opens again behind him. You shuffle about for a few minutes, digging around your shelves and Tom Waits’ gravelly tone cuts off abruptly to be replaced by the softer voice of Stevie Nicks instead. The volume ticks down a couple of notches before you join Spencer in the kitchen as he warms the tomatoes and spices alongside the boiling noodles, moving around him with the same ease you do in the office. You pull out two bowls that don’t match - one is shallower and wider and glazed a sunshine yellow, there’s a chip in the lip of it. The other one is smaller, deeper, glazed navy blue instead and with a cheeky face etched into the pottery. Its nose protrudes slightly, rounded out on one side. He can’t help his smile when he dishes out two equal portions and the red sauce drips down onto the bowl’s nose. He swipes at the mess with his thumb before handing you the bowl.

“Thank you.” You search out his gaze this time, urging him to look you in the eye. For cooking, or what he’s sure is your favourite bowl, or staying. He’s not sure. He wants to tell you that you don’t have to thank him, he’d drop anything and everything at any moment if you needed him to. But something in your eyes has stolen his voice, a flicker of something he’s far too terrified to acknowledge. So he only smiles, takes the yellow dish in his hands, and follows you to the comfort of your vintage floral couch.

It’s not a table dinner kind of evening, you seem to have decided. Although the precarious balance of the bowl on your knees suggests otherwise, as you try to eat one handed. Spencer leans forward to pull the cushion from behind his back, his own dinner temporarily abandoned on the floor in front of him, and he picks up your bowl to slide the cushion across your lap in lieu of a tray. Your laugh is quiet, you don’t look at him, but whatever tension had built in the bedroom dissipates with the sound.

Even so, he shoots off a text to Penelope while you’re preoccupied with your spaghetti, asks if she can lend you a helping hand for the next few days if you need one. You shouldn’t need the sling for more than a week anyway. She responds with a smiley face and a kiss almost immediately. It’s not the first time in his life he’s thanked whatever mystical force is responsible for Penelope Garcia.

Spencer will corral you to the doctor’s office for a checkup in a few days, he’ll make sure you do your stretches, he’ll set alarms for your painkillers. And, ultimately, he’ll come back if you ask him to. He’ll help you in and out of your pyjamas if that’s what you want, of course he will.

Regardless of the way it sets his insides aflame. He’ll do it for you.

yes i know reader inserts are blank slates yes this apartment is basically just my own flat no i don’t care thank u🧡🧡

#acts of service as a love language is so underrated he just wants to hELP YOU!!!!#AAUUGGGHHHHHH anyway #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #the canyouniverse #lou is writing

448 notes · View notes

joshslater · 6 months ago

Text

Booster Shot

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

The male nurse picked up a file from the tray, scanned it quickly, and turned to me. "Martin? Here for the injection?" It was only me and two elderly ladies in the waiting room. "Yes," I said, getting up from reading a year-old home improvement magazine. "This way," the nurse said and started walking down the corridor from which he had emerged.

Many doors down we turned into a well-equipped procedure room and he motioned for me to sit on the bed with the back part raised, paper rolled out on it. "I prefer the seated position, if you don't mind."

"It's fine with me," I said, wondering if anyone did it lying down. I guess some people are really scared of needles or may pass out.

He spent some time preparing things on the bench along the wall and came back with a small tray. Then a quick swipe with a wet wipe, an expertly made injection, and a small band-aid to cover it up. "It will only take a few seconds," he said. "A few seconds for what?" I thought before everything went out of focus.

It took a bit to reorient myself. The sensation was a mix of orgasm and pain as the man kneaded my chest. "Good, you are waking up. The sedative took you harder than most." He was standing right behind me, one hand on each breast, and forcefully rubbing, squeezing, and kneading them.

"So for the next week you want to massage the area every second hour until the myalgia subsides. I'll give you sleeping pills for two nights and painkillers for four days. Now the injections are basically chemically induced eccentric muscle contractions, so just like with traditional muscle exercise there will be some inflammation over the next few days. You'll gain a cup size or two, but it will mostly recede. It is very important though that you keep up with chest exercises daily for the next three weeks so the muscle fibers heal correctly. After that you just need maintenance exercise just like any other muscle. I know you are still light-headed, but all of this is in the paper I'll send you home with. I want you to rest for half an hour before you leave and change shirt of course." He suddenly realizes I don't have anything with me except the clothes on my body. "You didn't bring an extra shirt?"

"No, I'm here for the flu shot."

458 notes · View notes

alkali1 · 11 months ago

Text

Fantasy Maternity Ward

It had been a relatively quiet day at the maternity ward, but all of Dr. Ixia's hope of going home on time vanished when she heard the anguished screams of the petite elven woman being carried into the delivery room by her hulking orc husband. Half-orc deliveries were almost always a drawn-out, tortuous affair, and with the three-year length of elven pregnancies, the mother would surely need a lot of time and assistance to squeeze out the 60-70 pound toddler currently cramming its way through her overdilated cervix.

The nurse briefed the goblin OBGYN on the patient's status: "She's carrying a singleton, half-orc 163 weeks pregnant, and nearly fully dilated." The doctor's eyes widened at hearing how long the pregnancy had been. Elves usually couldn't handle bearing interspecies babies the full three years, but this woman had gone severely overdue. She shuddered thinking about the sheer size of the baby, and whether her body could even stretch enough to accommodate it.

The patient was helped into the birthing bed, her feet strapped up into the stirrups. Her breasts, sagging low with milk, were pushed up into her face by the enormity of her womb, which dominated the rest of her body. From Ixia's low angle it looked like it could be the size of the rest of her combined. The elf's straining, barrel-sized belly shifted back and forth as the strong, overdeveloped child confined within writhed, desperate to be born.

The doctor reached into the patient's swollen pussy to examine her cervix. She found her to be fully dilated, with the baby's watermelon-sized and colored head battering against the elf's hopelessly tiny pelvic inlet with each desperate push.

"Huff...huff...stuUUUUUUUUUCK!" was all the poor elf could say as another contraction made her strain desperately to squeeze the colossal head through her unyielding hips. "We're going to give you a little something to help you stretch", said Dr. Ixia, loading up a syringe with a clear potion.

Ixia made three careful injections into the ligaments holding her pelvis together, one in the front and one on either side of her delicate tailbone. She wrenched the strirrups back, bringing the elven woman's feet almost parallel to her head. The patient let out a desperate scream as she reacted to the burning sensation of her pelvic ligaments stretching like taffy.

With her hips finally widened enough for her pushes to slowly start squeezing the overdue toddler downwards, the patient writhed underneath the suffocating boulder of her belly, clinging desperately to her orc husband's burly arm. Each push brought a few agonizingly slow millimeters of progress, and with it an unimaginable searing pain that made her scream and wail that her hips would split. Though this was one of the most disproportionate births she'd attended, it was nothing the veteran doctor hadn't seen before. Ixia squirted some lubricating oil into the now bulging cunt of her patient, working it in around the brow of the child to hopefully ease its passage somewhat.

After a few hours the head was just barely starting to approach the elf's bulging lips. With a sliver of green skin visible, each push made her swollen flower distend just a bit more, until it formed a sickening bulge several inches wide. Her perineum was pulled so tight that it dragged her anus open with into a teardrop shape.

Ixia sighed, realizing that the elf's hole was just too small and tight to stretch around the colossal toddler head. She gently ran her fingers around the taut rim, testing its pliability and trying to stretch it around a little more of the huge skull. There was just no way it was going to fit without splitting the poor elf wide open.

"Ready the traction forceps," Ixia said to her assistant. As the device was being assembled, she rubbed a sticky potion into the elf's vaginal lips and perineum. "This will help you stretch wide enough to deliver." she explained.

With the ointment taking effect Ixia was just barely able to wiggle the curved metal faces of the forceps into the patient's birth canal and secure them into place around either side of the head. She locked them together and hooked the apparatus up to a chain, then turned a crank to create constant pressure against her patient's stubborn cunt.

"IT'S RIPPING MEeeeeeee!" screams the poor elf, struggling to stay calm with the burning sensation in her overstretched cunt suddenly multiplying tenfold. "Calm down, you're not tearing. Just breathe and push when you feel a contraction." Privately, Ixia had her doubts. The doctor prided herself on rarely having to cut her patients, but the sheer size of the grossly overdeveloped half-breed could easily prove too large for the extra capacity provided by the stretching ointment.

Over the next three hours the elf's grotesquely stretched pussy gradually stretched around the baby's boulder-like, fused skull. The doctor periodically ratcheted up the tension, and reapplied more ointment to the patient's vulva and perineum. But just before it reached its widest point, it stopped progressing.

The red-faced elf gasped as Ixia explained that the shoulders had become stuck on her tailbone. "Brace yourself, this will be quite uncomfortable." said the doctor as she pulled on an elbow-length surgical glove.

Ixia carefully squeezed her hand into the gaping maw of the elf's rectum. She faced severe resistance from the stretching and squeezing being exerted on the hole by the massive obstruction lodged in the birth canal. Every square inch of space in the moaning patient's pelvic cavity seemed to be taken up by the baby, but finally the doctor was able to get some leverage on the shoulders.

With the next push she attempted to rotate the anterior shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. It was completely wedged against the unusually prominent bone. With a sickening pop, the fragile spur gave way. Ixia quickly withdrew her arm from the patient and provided counterpressure as the unstuck baby surged forward.

"Try to pant through the urge to push. If it comes too quickly you're going to tear yourself badly." But the agonized elven woman was far too deep into the throes of labor to resist her body's desperate signals. With the next contraction the head finally popped free from her gaping cunt with a gush of fluid. Ixia disengaged the forceps and gently guided the shoulders and torso out. With one more quick push the gigantic toddler fully emerged from the elf's blown-out birthing hole.

Ixia needed help from her assistant to lift the child onto the mother's chest. As the new parents cooed over their firstborn and the nurses cleaned him up and did their examinations, she supervised the delivery of the placenta and stitched up the shockingly minor tears in the elf's loose, swollen-purple hole.

"76 pounds 15 ounces!" announced one of the nurses after weighing the chubby newborn boy. "One of the largest I've ever delivered" thought Ixia to herself. With the ordeal largely over, the doctor advised the patient to stay on bedrest for at least six weeks while her tailbone healed and alchemically stretched body parts slowly returned to normal. Finally, hours after she expected, she could go home.

#birth #size difference #pregnancy fantasy #pregnant fantasy #overdue pregnancy #giving birth #birth fic

572 notes · View notes

appleblueberry-pie · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Lesbian Nurse Geto x Female Nurse Reader

Geto has been a nurse in the biggest hospital in Tokyo for 5 years. And for all 5 years, I have been working beside her. Taking a ridiculous amount of patients, working my ass off, but ultimately being able to put food on my table. Geto has been a great co-worker and friend to me. She'd start her shift at the same time as mine just so we can have a lunch break together. She sometimes steps off of her main task to help me with my patients if she can and even gives me an extra bag of her homemade lunch if she finds out I don't have any.

She's so sweet and caring to me. But I don't hear the same from everyone else I work with.

They'd say outrageous things about her. To me specifically, as if I could do anything about it. "Because she fucking kisses at your feet." They'd spit. "Maybe if you soften her up, she'll consider my offer when my shift is over," they'd chuckle. It's mostly the male doctors who come up to me with this information. Which makes it hard for me to take them seriously. And I don't believe them. How could such a nice woman be as they describe her? Foxy, arrogant, sly, and greedy. I don't see that in her. Therefore, their words mean nothing. Her dark-lipstick stained lips slightly curl up in amusement as I turn my back to the doctor, walking back over to her.

She loves the way you think. It makes her job way easier. Get closer to you, and she'll get her much deserved prize.

I see Geto leaning against the wall as I approach. "I hope you didn't hear what he said." She shrugs and meets me halfway. "It doesn't matter. Words don't matter like that. You learn that early in this field of work." I nod and smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So, what do you have planned for the rest of today?"

This is how my usual work day goes. Unnecessary rumors, casual conversation with Geto and then go home. But I guess something was in the air today. Because when I finished eating my lunch alone(surprisingly), I walked into the staff room and found Geto screaming at one of the doctors. He and her were separated by one wooden circular desk and they were both standing. She was leaning over the table as if she wanted to lunge over it to kill him.

"You fucking asshole. If you just listened to me, I would've given you all of the sex you wanted! But you fucking talked to her. AGAIN. You've been pissing me off too many times." She scoffs and turns away from him, holding her head as if she had a headache. He walks around the table and approaches her, placing his hands on her shoulder. "Suguru, forget about her. Why do you care about her? She's a nobody. You're everything she's not, can't you see? You make way more than her, you're prettier than her, and you work more harder. We're the same."

He smiles as Geto relaxes against him. My eyebrows furrow at their words. What the hell was going on? Were they shit talking me? Why did she make that absurd deal with him? And I've never heard anyone call Geto by her first name. They didn't see me yet, and I stood there silently, waiting to see where this conversation would go.

Geto nodded before looking back up at him, a smile on her face. He smiles back before his eyes trail to her lips. When he inches closer, Geto pulls a full syringe from a hidden strap on her thigh and stabs it into his neck, injecting whatever it was into his blood. The doctor chokes on his words, face turning red as he falls to the ground. Geto doesn't even glance down at him before turning towards the door, only to see me there. "Y/n...." I stare at her in horror. She runs towards me and I flinch out of my frozen position. I am only one step back before she yanks me in, slamming the door shut. I can still hear the doctor gasping for breath and I shove Geto away from me. "I can't trust you...get the fuck away from me." My heels click against the floor as I speak.

She slowly approaches me again. "You don't mean that..." I nod, stressed. "Yes. I do." A weird look of happiness overcomes her face before she pushes me through an open door. I fall on my ass, yelping in pain. She storms into the room as well, shutting the closet door and turning the light on. She towers over me and I look up at her, regret filling my chest. They were right. And I didn't listen to anyone. How come I couldn't ever see it?

"Oh, you fucking liar," I whisper.

My skirt rides up and I can feel my upper thighs brushing against the cool marble floor. I hate this closet for this exact reason. I look up, only to see Geto staring back down at me with a look of adoration on her face. Which makes no sense considering she just illegally penetrated a licensed doctor with a needle filled with drugs to knock him out.

Confusion crumbles and turns into fear, my breaths slowly increasing as she fondly looks down at me as if I was a little useless deer, far, far away from mom. Her red heels clack against the floor as she walks closer. I scoot back, my skirt riding up higher in the process and she coos. I gasp at the feeling of the point on her stiletto suddenly rubbing between my pussy lips through the fabric of my panties. "Ohhh, there we go. See? It feels so good, doesn't it, baby? C'mere.."

She steps over my legs before kneeling, her knees trapping me in place. She takes my face in her hands and immediately places her soft lips onto mine. My eyes widen and I can feel her desperately initiating the control. My eyebrows furrow when a warm muscle slips from between her lips into my mouth and I whimper. She swallows it and kisses me harder. I can feel her resting her weight onto my lap, her panties underneath her uniform brushing my core above my work skirt.

I separate the kiss, gasping for air and turning my head to the side. She presses messy kisses down my jawline and neck. I begin to feel dizzy as her hands travel down my chest, groping it before groping at everything else they can get at. "Geto..." I breathe out her name. She whines and grinds herself against me. I feel a throb between my legs and push her away from me. She looks confused and a little sad at me pushing her away and I shake my head.

"No...no, this isn't right. Y-you just drugged a doctor a-and we can't do thi-"

"I love you!!!"

My world stops as she stares at me, tears filling her eyes. "I fucking love you....i've loved you ever since I began working here. I cook you my food, I take some of your own work, I turn down everyone for you, for you! I do everything for you. I still work here for you, I...I turned down my promotion just to be near you. T-that fucking sleazebag I drugged?? He secretly wanted you. But I want you more..."

Her eyes are gone as she gathers her words. I am frozen. No sound is heard besides our breaths. Her face turns to stone as she looks back up at me. "I want you more. I deserve you. You ungrateful piece of shit."

She grabs me by the hair, fingers digging into my scalp as she stands back up. I yelp and she tells me to shut up. "I'm gonna make you love me back." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

"Pull my panties down." I stare up at her, frozen and confused. "Pull my fucking panties down. Now." My hands wander towards her underwear under her uniform and I feel around her warm skin until I find the thin thong bands and i pull them down, trying so hard to ignore the string of slick connected to them. "Good girl....come eat me out." Her voice is softened as she spreads her legs for me. I look back up into her eyes and she smiles softly, a look too put-together in her eyes. She's fucking nuts. Her fingers tighten once more on my scalp and I cringe, pushing her skirt up until I see her pink pussy in the shitty closet lighting. I lean closer to it, staring her in the eye as I lick a stripe of her juices from between her warm and sensitive lips.

Her eyes roll back into her lids and her head tips back, a shameless moan leaving her lips. A part of me enjoys this moment between me and her despite everything leading up to this moment. I'm on autopilot as I grab her legs, spreading them further apart as I force my tongue to continue eating her out, ravaging my first meal of the day despite it being 10:30 at night. "I know you didn't eat lunch today." She slurs out, a small squeal leaving her lips when I suck on her clit. She then giggles. "So, this is your meal. Do you like it? Does it taste good, baby?"

I hum, staring her right in the eyes. My face is deep between her soft and warm thighs. I remain eye contact as my tongue finds her entrance. The cold tip of my nose presses firmly against her wet and erect clit. That's when she pulls my face away from her cunt. The bottom half of my face is soaked in her juices. She takes a deep breath before softly loosening the grip on my hair. My face relaxes as she lets me go. She gets back down onto my lap, straddling me. "Please. No more." I plead, exhausted. She caresses my face before bringing her hands to my uniform shirt. "It's okay. I'm gonna take care of you."

She tears my shirt open, biting her lip at my beautiful choice of bra. She makes me take my shirt and bra off, immediately pawing at the tender breasts when they're freed. "So pretty." I sit back, resting on one arm, spreading my legs out. She doesn't even finish her initial thought before sucking on one of my nipples. I sigh in regrettable pleasure. She gets off of my lap, sitting next to me as one of her unseen hands trail down beneath my skirt, between my legs to touch at my damp underwear. I flinch lightly and she pulls off of the nipple.

"Be a good girl and moan for me, okay?" I didn't know what she was talking about until she swiftly pulls my panties to the side and firmly slides two fingers into my cunt like it was nothing. I gasp and she hums in acknowledgement. I whine lightly as her fingers thrust in and out of me. They feel a little rough as she also kisses around my chest, creating hickeys in-between kisses. She then starts curling her fingers on that spongey spot inside of me and my back arches at the pleasure blooming in my lower stomach. "Like that?" She asks. "L-" As soon as I speak, it's cut off from her fingers rubbing quicker on that one spot, the pleasure increasing twice as much. A pathetic moan escapes my lips instead. "Hm?? Just like that?" She asks again as I throw my head back, almost hovering over my body from where I lay. I nod, my eyes squeezed shut. A satisfied smile spreads across her lips as I suddenly moan loudly, squirt gushing out of my pussy onto her hand. Obscene squelching sounds echo throughout the room as she continues her assault on my hole.

"Fuck, no more! No more, please..." I beg and she immediately listens, pulling her fingers out of me. I relax, my back hitting the ice cold marble floor. I try to catch my breath, rubbing my face as if trying to find the sense I once had. Geto sucks my juices off of her fingers, ecstasy flowing through her veins at the taste. She tastes every last drop on her hand and even considers licking what I left on the ground. But I'm more important. She turns back to me and leans over my naked torso, kissing my forehead. "I love you, y/n."

"..." I look back into her expecting eyes. What happens if I say it back? Will it even matter? At this point, I completely forgotten the things she had done before we ended up in the closet. "I love you, too." Her eyes sparkle and she laughs as if I just proposed to her. Her hands find my cheeks once more, cradling my face as she kisses me. The kiss is soft, warm, and domestic. She pulls away and her heart squeezes. "I have to take care of some business. Can you wait here for me?"

What else can I do? I nod. She stares at me for a little while longer before standing up. She leaves. It's silent. I'm half-naked, my mind is fuzzy, and bodily fluids are spilled on the floor. It's cold. What have I done to meet such a woman? She's probably gonna kill the doctor, and God knows what she'll do once she comes back to get me. But even after everything, I'm the one that has her wrapped around my finger. I just have to find a way to get out of what I put myself into.

497 notes · View notes

briefinquiries · 1 year ago

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Amnesia

Prompt: You experience some retrograde amnesia after you and Luke are in a car accident.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: car accident, trauma, blood mention

A/N: continuing to repost these :)

The first thing that you notice when you wake up is that your head is throbbing. The pain is worse than that time you and Penelope decided to go bar hopping all night when you were visiting Emily in London. It had taken two whole days for the three of you to recover. Judging by the way you feel right now, you think it might take a whole lot longer than that to get over whatever you had been up to the night before.

It takes a moment, but soon, you start to realize that this pain felt like much more than just a bad hangover. Your entire body aches, and when you try to touch the spot on your head that really stung, a sharp pain shoots up your entire right arm, making your eyes open slowly in response.

Slowly, you take in the room around you, including the IV attached to your arm and the sterile, white walls. Your mouth feels dry, and your body is still in a bed that feels so much different than yours at home.

When you feel someone touching your arm, you turn your head.

“Rossi..?” You see your coworker looking at you with worry in his eyes and tears that are threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about. Disoriented and confused, your heart starts racing. The beeping from the heart monitor suddenly increases and Rossi quickly scoots forward on the edge of his seat, squeezing your hand and telling you to calm down.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice shaky and scared. “Why am I here?”

You’re almost afraid to know the answer.

“You guys were in an accident, in the SUV. It’s okay, you’re okay, and he’s going to be fine…everyone’s alright now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and try to take some time to process things…an accident… in the SUV. Derek was always the one who insisted on driving.

“Oh my god…how’s Derek?”

There’s a strange look that flashes across Rossi’s face that you can’t quite read before he gives you an uneasy and forced smile, “He’s fine, everyone’s fine. He’s at home.”

“Oh,” you sigh a breath of relief. “So he wasn’t in the accident with me?”

“No…” Rossi’s voice trails off and his tone indicates that there’s something he’s not telling you.

But you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you think to yourself, Morgan’s okay. He’s fine. And I’m… you look down to your own body and see no visible casts or slings. I’m okay. We’re okay.

What you didn’t see was the worried look in Rossi’s face, or the way he gently excuses himself to go call the doctor as quickly as he can.

…

A nurse comes into the room after an hour and gives you some more painkillers.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she injects them into your IV line.

“Tired,” you say. “And my head really hurts.”

She nods. “That’s to be expected from the trauma you endured.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She looks at you, “You were in a car accident.”

“I know, but like- how’d it happen?”

“I’m not entirely sure- your coworkers can probably tell you more. But I know there was a car chase, and you ended up getting t-boned on the side of your vehicle. You suffered some head trauma, that’s why it’s taken so long for you to wake up. Probably why you’re a little groggy too. But Mr. Alvez received a few minor injuries. I think they’re starting to stitch him up now.” Just as she finishes administering the drugs, her pager goes off.

“I’m sorry, I have to run. The doctor should be here soon though to check on you.”

Mr. Alvez. The name sounded vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. Instead, you just assume he was the one who ran into your car. The nurse hadn’t mentioned anyone else, either, so you can only assume that you were alone in the SUV.. But why would you be chasing an Unsub alone?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Rossi re-enters the room. Except, he’s not alone. JJ, along with a middle aged female in a white lab coat and dark scrubs trail behind him.

JJ offers you a small smile before crossing her arms across her chest and standing in the corner of the room with Rossi. They gaze at you cautiously.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” the doctor says. “I’m Dr. Hall. You’re very lucky that you weren’t seriously injured considering the severity of the accident.”

She takes a moment to shine a light in your eye, and then again in your ear. She checks the movement in your arms and legs, which only causes a little discomfort at this point. “I need to ask you a few things, just some standard simple questions.”

You nod slowly in agreement.

“Can you tell me your full name?”

You nod and tell the doctor.

“Okay, now your date of birth?”

Again, you answer.

“What do you remember before the accident?”

“I'm not sure, but..” you stop, feeling a little confused. “The nurse said it happened during work. That I was chasing someone, I can’t quite remember who.”

“Okay, and what do you do for work?”

“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate despite your fuzzy mind. “I work for the FBI, I’m an agent for the BAU.”

“Good, and who do you work for?”

“Aaron Hotchner,” you say.

But something feels wrong when you look up to see the look on JJ and Rossi’s faces. JJ’s got her hand covering her mouth and she won't quite meet your gaze. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you watch Rossi inhale and place a comforting hand on JJ’s back.

Dr. Hall nods slowly at you. “Okay, we’re gonna do some more tests, if you’re up for it now.”

“What’s wrong?” you looked over to Rossi, hoping that he’ll tell you what’s happening.

Instead, he avoids your gaze. Dr. Hall is the one to speak. “It looks like there might be some retrograde memory issues going on, but we’ll need to do a quick CT just to be sure.”

“Oh my god,” you say, surprised, but also relieved to have an explanation as to why everything feels so foggy. “How much am I forgetting?”

Finally, Rossi speaks. “Morgan left the BAU three years ago,” he explains somberly. “And Hotch left a little over two years ago.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You feel like your heart might have stopped.

Three years? You’re forgetting the last three years of your life?

You hear the heart monitor start to beep faster again as you fight to remain calm.

The doctor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“No need to panic,” she assures you. “This kind of thing happens, and there’s no way to know for sure what we’re looking at here until we get a CT scan, okay? So let’s not fret yet.”

You nod slowly, but can’t quite manage to look over at JJ and Rossi again.

“My nurse here is going to take you up to get a scan. We’ll review the results when I get them, okay?”

You just nod, because what else are you going to do?

The nurse from earlier comes in with a chair. After helping you slip into it, you don’t look back to JJ or Rossi before she wheels you out of the room.

Turns out, the walk to the scanning room was a long one, and you hated awkward silence. So, you bring up your conversation with the nurse from earlier.

“How’s the guy who hit me doing? You said his injuries were less than mine, right?”

She pauses slightly before speaking. “The guy who hit you was arrested by your team, I think,” she says.

“Mr. Alvez?” you ask, maybe that’s why his name was familiar. He was the Unsub you were after.

“Mr. Alvez is getting a cut stitched up, yes. But he’s okay.”

You frown. “I don’t understand, wasn’t Mr. Alvez the guy who hit me?”

The nurse hesitates even longer this time. “Mr. Alvez was driving your vehicle,” she explains.

“What?” You were dumbfounded and tired of everything being so confusing.

“Mr. Alvez was driving your vehicle, the black SUV.”

You fall silent. He must be a member of the team. With Hotch and Morgan gone, like Rossi had mentioned, it was obvious you had acquired some new team members. You can't understand why else this Alvez guy would be in the FBI car. Your head starts to hurt from the chaos. Rather than ask more questions, you let the awkward silence take you the rest of the way to the scanning room.

…

When you wake up later that day, you smile to see Penelope and Spencer sitting in chairs across the room. Reid has his nose in a book. Finally a familiar sight.

“Guys,” you exhale a breath of relief. The heaviness in your chest and the throbbing in your head isn’t so bad anymore. Instead you feel safe…because that’s how Garica and Reid always made you feel.

Spencer looks up from his book, his face breaking out into a huge grin. “Hey, you’re awake!”

“Oh my gosh,” Garcia stands up and hurries closer towards your bed.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see those beautiful eyes,” she says. She gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sitting down in the chair by your bedside.

Spencer remains standing and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” your eyes wander towards the profiler and you pause. “Your hair is different,” you observe. “It’s so long.”

Reid and Garcia exchange a quick glance before turning back towards you. Oh yeah, you thought, the missing three years.

“Apparently I’ve lost my memory,” you laugh dryly, attempting to joke at the awkward situation.

“So I heard,” Spencer says uneasily, his lips pressed tightly together.

“It’s a shame I still remember your face though.”

That remark seems to bring Spencer’s electrifying smile back. It was even enough to get a small laugh out of him.

“So, does anyone have the highlights from the past three years?”

The smile that’s been lingering on your lips slightly fades as you realize how much you didn’t know, so much you were missing out on.

“Who took Hotch’s place?” you ask.

Garcia jumps in. “Oh, that’s good news. Emily!”

Your jaw almost drops to the floor. “Emily? Our Emily?”

Garcia nods frantically, her red lips smiling excitedly. “She came back from London to help out when she found out we were down a man, and when Hotch left, they made her Unit Chief.”

“Wow. That’s incredible, that’s such good news.”

It’s making your head feel heavy, trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of your own life. You continue to play 20 questions with them until there’s a faint knocking sound at your door.

You turn to see some familiar and some unfamiliar faces entering the room.

The first you see is Emily. She looks almost exactly the same, which is comforting. Then there’s JJ and Rossi and Tara, who you’re relieved to recognize. But two unfamiliar men walk into the room. They file towards the back. You try not to focus on them, because it made you uneasy. How could there be two members of your team- that you may have known for as long as three years- that you just don’t recognize?

You try focusing on the members of your team that you did know instead. It brings you an infinite amount of more comfort.

“How’re you doing?” Emily asks sympathetically. “We all couldn’t wait to check up on you.”

“I’m okay,” you tell her nodding, even though everyone in that room knew it was far from the truth.

“Have you gotten your CT scan results back yet?” JJ wonders.

You shake your head. “Not yet, the nurse said the doctor would be in soon, though. I guess he was finishing up a surgery.”

You can’t help but glance towards the back of the room towards the unfamiliar members of your team after a few moments. One is standing with his arms crossed, but a similarly sympathetic smile on his face as the rest of your team was wearing. But the other, with dark, curly hair and tanned skin, is staring down at the ground. He won’t meet your gaze. He has a bandage on the left side of his forehead that he keeps itching at.

Why can't you place him?

It’s awkward and uncomfortable with the team. Something that makes you feel very uneasy, because that’s not how you remember things being at the BAU. This is your family, so why can't you wait for them to leave?

After exchanging pleasantries and promises to visit soon, the majority of the team finally started to file out of your room.

You wave goodbye to them as they left, realizing that no one introduced you to the two unfamiliar men. You assume that they didn’t want to overwhelm you. But as soon as it was just you, Spencer, and Garcia again, you let your curiosity peak.

“Okay, who were those two guys, in the back there?” you point to where they were standing.

“That was Matt Simmons and Luke Alvez,” Spencer explains nervously. “They’re part of the team.

“Alvez!” you remember the name from earlier. “The nurse told me he was driving- Was he the one with the bandage?”

Spencer and Garcia exchange another nervous glance, as if they’ve been waiting for this question all along. But you can read their faces like a book, and you see the way their faces fall.

They both nod slowly.

“Yeah.” Spencer nods. “Yeah, that was Luke. And you’re right, he was driving the SUV.”

“Who is he?” There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you can’t quite place.

“He took over for Morgan when he left. So he joined the team a little under three years ago.” Reid explains cautiously.

But Garcia gives a strange look, like there was something they knew that you didn’t.

“What is it?” you ask them. You can't stand the fact that you don't know half of what was going on.

Penelope sighs and when she speaks her voice is shaky.

“He- he is a member of the team,” she explains. “But you've also been dating him for the past two years.”

…

Luke’s gripping at his hair harshly as he paces through the halls of the hospital.

“She has no clue-” he exclaims frustratedly. "No clue who I am.”

The truth is that he had been overly anxious to get to your room ever since arriving at the hospital. He pleaded with the doctor who was stitching up his forehead to hurry up. He needed to make sure you were okay.

Even when a somber-looking Rossi had entered his room earlier in the day and told him you were experiencing some memory loss, he still felt like he needed to see you.

“She didn’t remember that Emily took over for Hotch,” JJ explained to the team, all huddled in Luke’s room. “Or anything after Morgan left.” Her gaze wanders towards Luke.

“Meaning she doesn’t remember me?” Luke had asked, wincing as the nurse continued to stitch up his wound from the accident.

JJ bit her lip before looking to Rossi to answer his question.

“We don’t think so,” Rossi declared.

Luke had nodded slowly. “But we don’t know for sure? I mean they haven’t done any tests or anything?”

“They’re doing a CT scan now, I guess to see what’s really going on,” JJ had folded her arms across her chest tightly.

Luke nodded, his hopes not faltering. He’d be what made her remember everything. One look- and all the memories would come back. Because their love wasn’t something you could just forget.

“Just give her space, okay?” Rossi urged, he was the only thing blocking Luke from bursting through your door. “Try not to overwhelm her.”

“Yeah, okay,” Luke said without realizing what he was even promising. Because he knew that as soon as you saw him, this whole nightmare would be behind them.

But when he did finally walk through the door to your room and your eyes didn’t immediately light up, Luke’s hopes started to quickly fall.

In fact, you didn’t look at him at all. He bit his lip, trying not to give way to the fact that his entire world was coming crashing down around him while you told Emily that you were feeling okay. He found a spot on the floor to focus on, a single piece of dirt, or something, from somebody’s shoes remained the focal point of his gaze throughout the entire visit.

What he wanted to do was charge your bed- wrap his arms around you and tell you how much he loved you. He wanted to say he was sorry for not avoiding the Unsub’s car- wanted to apologize over and over again until he was blue in the face. But he couldn’t do that. Because you had no idea who he was.

It isn't until he's out of your room and back in the hallway that he realizes he’s been holding his breath. Luke exhales sharply, panic setting in.

Emily tries to calm him down by saying, “She might get all those memories back, Luke.”

“But she might not,” he admits, pulling even harder at the strands of his hair.

“We don’t know that yet,” Tara reassures him. “Oftentimes, amnesia after an accident is only temporary.”

“Okay,” he says, “Okay, but what if she doesn’t? What if I’m a stranger to her?”

Rossi steps forward this time, and grabs Luke by the shoulders. He has a stern look on his face while he lectures Luke. “Then we deal with it then,” he says. “But until then, you have to be strong for her, okay? Because she’s scared and she’s confused and she needs you to be strong.”

Luke nods as he slowly starts to come down from his panicked state. He takes a couple of deep breaths. “Okay,” he agrees.

…

The sun is shining outside and the little rays that escape through the blinds on the window illuminate your room when you hear the door rattle.

The door opens a second later and Garcia peeks her head in. “Hi, you’re awake!” She doesn’t open the door all the way, which makes you look questioningly at her.

“What’s up?” you ask.

She looks at you hesitantly. “You have some people to introduce you to. If you’re up for it.” She says it like a question, and you want to say no, but there’s something about the way Garcia looks, her normally bright, vibrant self looking dull and tired, that makes you agree.

You wonder if talking to Luke and Matt will help trigger your memory. So you give Garcia a little nod, who looks at you smiling before opening the door all the way to reveal the two men who are waiting in the hall.

Matt walks in first. He’s got a sharp jaw that’s clean shaven and a tattoo poking out from the sleeve of his T-shirt. His hands are tucked into a pair of jeans that look slightly worn. There’s warmth in his dark eyes, and a comforting smile on his face as he looks at you.

The guy that comes in behind him is Luke. He has a head of thick, curly hair, and a pair of brown eyes that pop. He’s wearing a dark maroon shirt that clings to his biceps and makes his tanned skin look even darker. There’s something sad about the way his face is mixed with both exhaustion and sorrow. He looks like he needs a good night of sleep.

“Hey,” Matt speaks first, and you can’t help but mirror the smile that’s greeting him. “I’m Matt.”

You look at both of them intently, trying to feel something, anything…but it only makes your head feel foggier.

“I guess this is probably pretty weird for you guys, huh?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood. “Introducing yourself to someone you already know.”

Luke offers you the slightest smile, but it’s laced with dejection.

“I’m sorry…” your face drops and Luke’s body goes tense. “I can’t remember you guys.” You look down at your hands because you can’t stand to look at them. You hate the disappointment you’ve caused on their faces.

“It’s okay, you’ve been through a lot, I’m sure it’ll come back to you eventually.” You look up to see it's Luke speaking for the first time. He’s got a warm, reassuring smile replacing the old disgruntled look and it instantly lifts your spirits. For a moment, you find yourself thinking, yeah, I can see why I had you in my life.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence for a moment, and you realize that you’re not entirely sure what to say.

You want to be polite, and you want to give them both a chance, because at one point you obviously knew them well.

But when you look at them, you don’t see your team members. You don’t see your boyfriend. You just see strangers.

…

Dr. Hall comes in that evening to discuss your CT scan. You’re relieved that it’s only you and Emily in the room at the time that she arrives.

“See that area there?” she asks, pointing to a mark on the screen she was showing you. “That indicates damage to the hippocampus. That’s the primary memory storage site of your brain, so it’s no wonder why you’re experiencing what we call retrograde amnesia.”

The words she speak sound foreign, and while you did everything you could to understand, all you cared about was one thing.

“Will I get my memories back?” you ask.

Dr. Hall scooted back in her chair and took off her black rimmed glasses. “Some people do,” she nods. “But some don’t. The good news is that the damage to your hippocampus is relatively minor. So much so that we missed it in our original MRI scan.”

You nod slowly. “So there’s a chance then?”

“There’s a chance. But even if it doesn't, the chunk that you’re missing is relatively small in the grand scheme of things. So even if you don’t get your old memories back, you do have the ability to create new ones.”

…

“Do me and Luke live together?” you ask Penelope in the car. You had been released from the hospital that day and the question popped into your head suddenly while you were on your way home.

She nods, her grip tight on the steering wheel. “Yes, but he’s going to stay with Rossi for now. He didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You sigh a breath of relief.

Garcia gently pushes the door open to your house that you don’t recognize. You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what you’re about to see. You’re uneasy, but there’s an odd sense of familiarity that settles in your stomach despite not knowing what to expect.

The entrance opens up to an open living room where the gray curtains are drawn open, the light coming in from the windows shined bright against the furniture.

There are shoes lined up neatly next to the door. A few pairs of sneakers lie next to a pair of giant boots that you know must be Luke’s.

You recognize some of the furniture. Like the rocking chair your mother gave you, and the homemade blanket. The more you recognize, the more at ease you felt.

The warmth only spread when you walked over to the coffee table to find a copy of your favorite book left out.

That’s when you notice that there are so many photos. Some hang on the walls and some are in frames placed around the shelves and tables.

One in particular captures your attention, and as you draw nearer, you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your lungs. It’s a picture of you and Luke, he has his arm around you and is wearing a huge, ear-to-ear grin as he stares into the camera lens. You, on the other hand, are looking up at him, a similar smile on your face.

You steady yourself against the wall, but suddenly feel like you’re having an out of body experience, your surroundings blurring out and Luke’s voice ringing in your head.

“I’m not gonna drop your phone, don’t worry-”

“Just do a selfie, that isn’t going to hold my phone, it’s going to fall!”

“This will look so much better than a selfie, trust me! Look, steady as ever, this branch is coming through for us-”

“Looks more like a twig to me-”

You’re squeezing your eyes shut but all you can see is Luke rushing towards you to beat the self timer on your phone, his smile wide.

Your eyes snapped open as Garcia entered the living room to announce, “I put your suitcase upstairs- what’s wrong?” she asks when she sees your frazzled state.

“Nothing,” you lie. You don't want to get her hopes up by telling her you think you just remembered something, so instead you say, “Just tired.”

“Oh, okay. Well let me get out of your hair then, so that you can rest.”

You nod, but all you can think of is getting your hands on some more photos.

After wandering upstairs, you seem to know just where to look to find a photo album stashed away. You open the binder to find countless pictures. You flip through them eagerly, until one a few pages deep catches your eye.

It’s another photo of you and Luke- this time you’re both looking into the camera. He has his arm around your shoulder and you’re pulling yourself into his side, your arm stretched across his stomach. Your head is resting comfortably on his chest and the closer you look, you realize that there’s tears in your eyes.

Suddenly, Luke’s voice pops back into your head.

“I wouldn’t have asked you out if I knew it was going to make you this upset-”

“I’m not upset, I’m- so.. so happy.”

“Happy. As in, yes, you’ll go out with me?”

“Of course I will.”

It’s like the floodgates open and suddenly, an influx of memories and information come pouring into your mind. You feel dizzy as you sort through them, wondering if any of this could be real.

When you look back down at the photos beneath you, your eyes narrow in on Luke.

You can’t help the sudden rush of tears that come streaming down your face when you realize that Luke’s no longer a stranger.

…

You take a deep breath, trying to gather courage before pressing the call button on your phone. It seems strange to you that just a few hours prior, you didn’t even feel comfortable having small talk with Luke, but now, with your memories coming back, he was the first person you wanted to tell.

The phone rings once before his warm, now familiar, voice answers on the other line.

“Hey,” he greets.

You exhale sharply before whispering a soft, “Hi.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks, concern evident in his tone.

You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “Yeah,” you say through the tears streaming down your face. “Yeah, can you- can you come home?”

After a brief moment of silence you add, “Please.”

You hear stirring on the other line, like Luke was moving around.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah, I’ll be there in 10.”

After you hang up the phone, you continue flipping through photos as you wait for Luke. The memories come back to you faster and faster. It’s a relief, but it’s also exhausting.

Only when you hear the front door of your house open and close do you tear yourself away from the photos. You shut the book and hastily run downstairs, eager to see Luke.

The Luke you see in your memories and pictures around the house is different than the one standing in front of you now. The Luke you now remember has skin the color of caramel and eyes so warm the sun would be jealous. But this Luke looks flushed and exhausted, with dark circles encasing his eyes.

“Luke..” you say softly, your voice coming out in a whisper, as if saying his name would take all your memories away again.

He looks frazzled and worried, but you make your way to him slowly.

“What’s wrong?” he frets, looking at you wildly.

You feel bad to have worried him into such a state. “Nothing-” you manage to get out. “I-I-” You’re so taken aback by just knowing who he is, that it’s hard to speak.

But Luke’s face softens, and when he comes to the conclusion that you must have called him over here for another reason, his eyes widen. “Do you- are you remembering things?”

Your face breaks out into a large, relieved smile, despite the tears still falling down your cheeks. You’re afraid that if you speak, you might just sob forever, so instead you nod frantically.

“Oh my god,” Luke gasps before crossing the room in just two, large strides. He wastes no time before wrapping his arms around your body tightly. He lifts your feet off the ground, his face getting buried in the nape of your neck while he spins you around. “Oh my god,” he repeats, followed by a little chuckle.

You breath in his comforting scent, wondering how you went so long without craving his touch.

“I remember-” you choke out. “I remember now.”

Luke lifts both of his hands and cups your face, and you can see tears in Luke’s eyes. “God, I’m so sorry,” he tells you. “I’m so sorry I let you get hurt.”

But you’re shaking your head. “It’s not your fault, Luke.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together like he’s trying to find his own words.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he finally says. “First when you were unconscious at the scene, but again when you didn’t know who I was.” He takes a slow, unsteady breath. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever remember.”

He leans his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheek, it grazes the corner of your mouth before he leans down, wanting nothing more than to press his lips against yours, to remind you about what the two of you had together.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless and wide-eyed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he whispers.

You nod and ignore all the thoughts and fears that are racing through your mind, and instead close the gap between you and Luke once again.

Luke tastes like mint and coffee, he smells like citrus, and he’s warm like a hot, summer day.

Luke feels like home.

#luke alvez imagine #luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader fic #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader fanfiction #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader fics #luke alvez fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader

484 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 10 months ago

Text

masterlist 3

little fucker's prom :) 👶

sev and club mom reader

cowboy sev meets cait's parents🤠

little fucker's first heartbreak :( 👶

club mom and sev first date!

black vampire reader turns sev! 🦇

betting to see who can last longest without sex

breeding sev

sevika x arab reader

oblivious reader

sev x lawyer reader

autistic reader

when sex has to end abruptly

more pillow princess reader

part 3 slow living sev, how you guys get a bunch of cats 💐

oblivious reader and sevs first time ;)

domestic possessive mother-of-my-children sex 👶

reader with a serious injury

elevator sex with ceo sev 💼

intimacy coordinator reader x movie star sev

sevika coaching little fucker's soccer team 👶

black vamp reader and newly turned sev on their first hunt 🦇

sevika giving reader nipple orgasm

your kid getting jealous of sev and u 👶

clingy sev

healing your inner child w sevika

sevika rescuing you from being stood up on a date

grandma cowboy sev 🤠

anxious reader

amab ceo sev's trans identity story 💼

vegan/vegetarian reader

small chested reader with big thighs

black vamp reader eating sev out on her period 🦇

ceo sev meeting you 💼

amab sevika getting her ass eaten 💼

amab ceo sevika when someone in the office likes you 💼

fucking sevika while she's on a call 👶

gamer sevika x moderator reader

divorced sev and reader 👶

tarot reader sev

handy sev being hot

sev experiencing top drop :(

little fucker getting grounded 👶

sick day morning routine

reader with an accent

drunk sevika being a sappy romantic

sucking sev's strap, then eating her out ;)

edging ceo sev 💼

braiding sev's bush hehehe

little fucker gets in a fight at school 👶

sevika lifting your pregnant belly 👶

modern sev's tastes

pregnant reader with an attitude 👶

does little fucker have pets? 🐕

amab reader!

sevika with baby fever

sev catching chubby reader sleeping naked

witchy reader

slow living with sev, teaching each other skills💐

wiping off her smooches

ceo sev random hcs 💼

sex on a business trip 💼

spiderman sevika

cowboy sev smut yeehaw 🤠

snow day w ceo sev! 💼

cellmate reader and sevika

helping sevika w/ estrogen injections💼

crybaby reader charming sevika

breaking sevika out of prison

super femme reader and plug sevika 🍃

picking sev up from wisdom teeth removal

reader figuring out how to ask for sex

sucking plug sev's strap 🍃

you and plug sev's first meeting

stay at home masc sevika

soft whiny bottom sev

small chested chubby reader

how married sevika and reader spice it up

you guys keep getting cockblocked 👶

reader using the power of seduction with sev

accidental pregnancy when you guys have a breeding kink 👶

little fucker wants a baby sister 👶

more omegaverse ;)

calling sevika your wife when she's your gf

nurse sevika

reader's strange sex facts

nerdy reader

plug sevika getting matching manis w/ femme reader 🍃

giving sev a strip tease

gamer reader

food truck enemies to lovers

threesome with ran and sevika ⚔

grabbing sevika's boobs for comfort

mtf inexperienced reader

ranvika throuple hcs ⚔

sev comforts reader

slow reader sev and reader have a baby 💐👶

buying her flowers for no reason <3

fucking plug sev in the backseat 🍃

#hit the limit on my 2nd masterlist teehee #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

181 notes · View notes

alwaysgloriouschopshop · 5 months ago

Text

#home health services #need nurse to give injection at home #home care nurse to give injection at home #nurse to give b 12 injection at home #female nurse for injection service at home #nurse to give injection at home #ivf doctors #ivf treatment #female nurse to give injection near me #female nurse for injection at home #female nurse for injection at home in bangalore #female nurse

0 notes

ellaa-writes · 5 months ago

Text

18+, anal

You usually don't pick men up at bars, but after a failed 5 year relationship you decided to fuck it all and head to the busiest bar in your city.

Wading through the crowds, letting your body sway to the music. Your sparkly dress catching the dancing lights above you. And lucky for you, the reflecting lights also caught the eye of him.

John hid in the shadows well, taking up all the space and then some. Nursing the watered down whiskey he ordered hours ago. He's not even sure why he comes here, he hates crowded spaces but it's the closest thing too feeling alive then staring down the barrel of a gun. He downs the last of his drink, leaving his corner, it's time to play a little.

It didn't take much too convince you to go home with him. You felt his hands wrap around your waist, your hips swaying to the beat. His groin attaching itself to your ass, your bodies melting together. One light touch of his lips to yours and your fate was sealed.

He carried you across his home and into his bed with ease. Stripping your clothes and leaving you bare and wanting. The light from the moon casting shadows across his harden features, playing with curves and dips of his physique. Your mouth watered at the sight, every inch of him was sculped by Angelo himself. His eyes bearing down into your own, filling you up hole.

He had you on your back, his mouth feasting on your power sodden pussy. Sticky and a mess, your essence taking to root in his mustache. Before you knew it he was using his strengthen behind each thrust, rhythmic movements pushing you over the edge. Pulling out soon as you were about to fall over, but he held onto you pulling you back.

Flipping you over onto your stomach as his hands roamed down your ass. If you weren't so drunk on lust you would have noticed sooner. But the first feeling on his fingers prodding at your tightly puckered hole had you reeling back and away from his touch, but not for long. He liked the chase, over powering his prey. He had you back towards the edge of the bed, a firm slap to your ass, the only warning you would get before his fingers find you again.

Using your slick from your dripping pussy he eased one thick finger in, it had you seeing stars and clenching the silky sheets. You whispered to him that it was too much, you couldn't possibly take him their. But he was a determined man, easing another finger into you his lips finding your hardened clit and giving it a good suck. He removed his fingers with a pop before lining his pussy soaked cock with your thoroughly stretched hole.

John made sure you felt every painful stretch, sinking himself to the hilt. Relishing in the feeling of you clenching around him, your sweet whimpers injecting straight into his veins. He felt himself reaching his peak, he slid his arm underneath you to play with your aching clit. Giving you exactly what you needed, he could feel you tighten around him even more. Your orgasm ripped out of you, the sensation of having your ass split open and battered had you panting, lost for words. John followed seconds after, his seed filling up your used hole.

He stilled his movements, letting his full body weight push down on you for only a moment before he pulled out and rolled onto his back. Taking a minute to catch his breath, his heavy breathing and your light snores filled the room around him.

#cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #cod mw3 #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #cod john price #john price cod

101 notes · View notes

wryipwryip · 1 year ago

Text

You're 40 weeks with twins and can hardly move. You start having proper contractions so I take you to the hospital. You're confused though as I told you you would be birthing at home. Since the contractions are already overpowering you don't ask anything as you are wheeled into a private room.

The nurse has you spread your legs and examines you. She murmurs something briefly to me and I nod. As the next contraction hits you feel a sharp pain down there. "What did you do to me" you ask as the nurse emerges.

"That injection will stop your contractions for a few weeks as your husband says it's too early for you to give birth."

You feel a warm sensation as the contractions subside, but the babies are low and your cervix aches to be dilated. "But there is so much pressure, I'm so uncomfortable, how can I go to 42 weeks like this?"

The nurse checks her notes. "I have you listed to give birth at 43 actually, as for the pressure we can recommend belly rubs and intercourse. We have already given your husband a list of punishments for when you misbehave so I suggest you stop complaining."

#birth denial #pregblr #birth kink #maternity #pregnant

181 notes · View notes

rj-anderson · 1 month ago

Text

It's quite a thing to adjust to being back on eldercare duty 9-12 hours a day, every day [1], which is pretty close to how my life was five years ago right before my dad's needs became so overwhelming that we had to transfer him to a nursing home. [2]

Except my dad's weaknesses were mostly physical — mentally he was quite sharp for a nearly 95-year-old — and back then my mom was well enough to keep him company, do the cleaning and laundry, and make meals for him so I could focus on managing his home care (and all the phone calls and paperwork that involved), helping him in and out of bed for naps, and wheeling him to and from the washroom as needed. Even if it was a lot of work, I wasn't doing ALL the work, and I could go for a walk in the woods or run a few errands without worrying (much) that Bad Things would happen in my absence. My mom, though, is physically in decent shape for 92, apart from her Meniere's Disease (aka chronic vertigo). But over the past year she's been increasingly losing her executive function and ability to retain recent memories. She's starting to leave her essential items like hearing aids and glasses in odd places around the house, and getting distressed when she can't find them.

Most tasks that used to be routine for Mom are beyond her now, and even writing down the steps for her doesn't help. She either forgets to look at the instructions, or she's too confused to follow them. Even answering the phone is a challenge these days, because if she can't hear the caller right away (which she usually can't, despite the volume enhancement) she starts pressing buttons at random and hangs up on them more often than not.

So for the past three months I've been running downstairs every hour or two all day to give my mom her medications, make her lunch and dinner, do her laundry, take her for her daily walk, answer her phone, turn on the TV for her, shepherd her through her nightly bedtime routine, and reassure her when she's worried about something she can't remember. It takes up a big chunk of every day in addition to my own family and church responsibilities (neither of which I want to give up or think I should). And that's assuming Mom doesn't have one of her out-of-the-blue excruciating nerve pain attacks, a fairly new development which involves a whole other level of care and leave us both exhausted for a day or more afterward. [3]

But the hardest part is that I can't leave the house now, even for a short time, without hiring a professional caregiver or recruiting a family member to take my place. My mom no longer remembers how to phone me in a crisis, and is unable to take any of her needed vertigo or pain medications on her own. If someone isn't right there to help, Bad Things will most definitely happen at some point, and more likely sooner than later.

Worse, I have no sisters, only brothers, all of whom live hours away. And as my Mom's need for care becomes increasingly specialized and personal, they're less and less equipped -- or suitable, from a woman's point of view -- to help her for more than a few hours at a time. And if Mom has one of her out-of-the-blue pain attacks, they aren't trained to give her the injection she needs. [4] So they'd have to give her oral meds and watch her suffer for 30-45 minutes before the pills kick in — and having gone through that myself several times now, I wouldn't wish the experience on my worst enemy. Or put my Mom through that much pain again, if I can help it.

But she's not in pain, or sick with vertigo, all the time. In fact, she can go for days or weeks without an attack. She's able to move about freely with her walker, chat with visiting helpers and family, stroke our two cats and enjoy looking out the back window at our yard. She looks forward to the meals I make for her and exclaims over how tasty and nourishing they are. She's lived in my basement for 20 years now, so everything is familiar and comforting. And right now, she's as safe here as she could be anywhere. The idea of transferring her to a care home even if there was a bed available (which there isn't — the waiting list in this area is 3-5 years for 24-hour nursing care and 10 years for assisted living) just doesn't seem to make sense, or be anything but cruel to her. And while there are some places that offer overnight respite care for up to a week, they only do that for clients enrolled in their adult day programs — which my mom can't attend because of her complex and unpredictable symptoms.

So I don't know when I'll ever get another vacation. I certainly can't take any overnight trips, or even day trips, right now. Unless I hire a registered nurse to stay with Mom the whole time I'm gone, and pay her hundreds of dollars to do it.

I don't really know why I'm writing this, except to get it off my chest. I love my Mom and I want to do my best for her. I'm thankful that despite her physical and mental health issues she is a loving, grateful and overall very obliging person to care for. She thanks and praises me for everything I do to help her, and apologizes for taking up so much of my time. I know she never wanted to put me in this position any more than I want to be in it.

But it's hard. It's really, really hard. And I wish I knew how long this is going to go on.

-- [1] Not counting the occasional calls in the middle of the night, which I hope will be fewer now that I've moved the call bell to keep my mom from knocking it by accident.

[2] Dad passed in early 2020, just before the pandemic. I'm still thanking God daily for that timing because I can't even imagine what it would have been like trying to visit him in lockdown.

[3] We've been to the hospital and our family doctor multiple times about this. Nobody can figure out why it's happening or how to stop it. We're supposed to get a CT scan at some point, which I hope will give us some more answers, but that could be weeks or months away.

[4] I myself was only trained a few days ago, and without any medical background or experience, I'm far from confident about it. Not even sure how well it's going to work, but something has to.

#personal #eldercare #caregiving #valley of the shadow

31 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 2 years ago

Text

The cynical playhouse

yandere!doctor OC x GN reader x psychopatic!doctor

Summary: a mad doctor has decided to take you for his sick experiment and your very own yandere, Dr Kry, is not going to let this slide, he'll get his hands dirty to keep what's his.

Warnings: mental torture, physical torture, indication of masturbating, mad doctor, mentions of killing, death, mentions of graphic pictures and screams, nudity (not sexual), killing someone with a crowbar, yandere themes, chains, scalpel, cuts, blood, needles, drugs, gore

Word count: 3.2k

Day 0 — prologue

"I need someone that isn’t very strong minded, someone that will respond to the experiment.”

“The hospital is filled with vulnerable patients.”

“But they’re watched by so many nurses and their families are breathing down their necks. If anyone disappeared, people would notice … I need someone that no one would miss, you know?”

“There’s one actually … one that no one really knows anything about. Their family has never visited and none of the nurses have barely seen them. They could be interesting for your experiment.”

“Who?”

“Dr Kry’s little sweetheart.”

Day 1

You can hear someone whispering in the room. Lazily, you open your eyes to see who Dr Kry is hissing with. In the darkness of the room you can tell that there are two men, but you can’t tell who Dr Kry is. None of them resembles him. You know how his body looks and both of these men look too … old?

“Oh, they’re awake”, an unfamiliar voice chuckles lowly.

“Not for long.”

“What’s going on?” you mumble tiredly as you feel one of the men take your arm in his cold hand.

“Shh, just relax for me. It’ll just sting a little.”

The sharp pain from a needle causes your eyes to pry open and your heart to stop. Your eyes dart down to where the pain originates from and finds that the unfamiliar man is currently injecting you with some kind of substance.

“What are you doing?!” you gasp in pure terror.

“Shh”, the man with the needle says calmly and puts his finger over his mouth, a warning for you to quiet down. “You’ll soon go to sleep, don’t worry.”

You can start to feel how your body starts to go numb, how your eyes want to flutter shut. You fight against the substance, refusing to let your unconscious body fall in the hands of these two strange men.

“Don’t fight it”, the man with the needle says in a comforting yet taunting manner. “Just give in.”

“N-No ..”, you choke out.

Your vision starts to get more and more blurry until it all turns black.

You wake up with your head down on a table. Groggily, you sit up and look around. Quickly, you seem to sober up the second you realize that you’re not in your hospital room anymore. The room you’re in now is an empty, white room with a large mirror to your side. It takes up most of the wall. A security camera is watching you from the corner of the room. You look down at the table you were sleeping on and notice that your hands are cuffed to the white surface.

Your heart accelerates to 100km/h. It’s going to jump out of your chest at any moment.

“W-What’s going on?!” you shout and look around in despair. “Hello?!”

“Don’t panic, my dear”, the voice who told you to give in to the substance says through the speaker under the security camera. “Calm down and listen to me, okay?”

“W-Where am I?”

“You’re in my little … playhouse. We’re going to have a lot of fun here, you and I.”

You shake your head as tears start to form in your eyes. You don’t want to know what his kind of fun is. Panic starts burning in your chest.

“Please let me go”, you start to sob.

“Don’t cry. I only need you for a little while.”

“A-And then what? Will I get to go home?”

“Home? Gosh no! You’d go straight to the police and expose all the fun we had here! My funhouse is exclusive. I can’t let just anyone participate!”

“I don’t want to participate!”

“But you’re here now. I can’t let you go. I can tell you what I’m going to do with you, though. I’m going to test the human’s brain and you’re going to help me. If everything goes well, I’ll get famous!”

You wish that you could wipe your runny nose, but your hands are chained with heavy chains and you’re in no physical state to lift them.

Day 2

Nothing really happened yesterday. You were left alone in the white room. A sound was coming from the loudspeaker. The sound of flies flying around. In the beginning, you tried to find something of a rhythm in it to create somewhat of a melody, but quickly started getting annoyed at the buzz. You had shouted to turn it off and only heard a giggle in the loudspeaker in return. You don’t know how long time had passed, but you’re sure you had to sit and listen to that sound for at last four hours.

Today, however, the man has decided to step it up a notch. The door opens and he walks in with a TV on a rolling table. You refuse to look at him. The TV turns on and you’re forced to see a slideshow of the most grotesque pictures taken at crime scenes — some by the cops and some by the killers themselves. Over the pictures, a distorted melody with occasional screams can be heard. You don’t doubt that the screams are real. This one breaks you down easier than the buzzing you heard yesterday. Even if you look away, you can still hear the sound. You can’t lift up your hands to cover your ears.

“Make it stop!” you plead and feel the tears burn behind your eyelids. “Please!”

No response.

“P-Please, I-I’ll do anything”, you sob, your whole body shaking along. “I’ll do … do anything … please.”

“You were cuter than I thought”, the voice in the loudspeaker says. “So fragile. I get why Dr Kry wants you.”

“Dr Kry? I-Is he involved in this?!”

“No, he’s not. Your little doctor is actually looking for you. I heard that he destroyed a trash can in anger and looked at the security footage yesterday.”

You look up at the security camera.

“Oh, don’t bother”, the voice says. “This camera leads to my own little private collection. I want to save my playtimes so I can rewatch them once you’re dead.”

You sob again.

“Look up, Y/N”, the man says, “and turn your head to your right.”

You do. The only thing you can see is your own image. Your red eyes, the messy hair, your body in the hospital gown and your hands chained to the table. You look horrible.

“That’s right”; the man sighs out in satisfaction — almost a moan. “Looking so ... so fragile. Fuck."

You look down in the realization that this is a one way mirror. He's sitting on the other side of the glass, currently getting off on your fear. You've never felt so exposed before. You can only imagine what he'll do with the footage later on. Shame creeps up on you. Embarrassed to be treated like this, ashamed that you can't do anything to stop it. You're only a pawn in his manic game.

Dr Kry has been running around looking for you for over twenty four hours now. He hasn't rested once, hasn’t eaten once either. The only thing he’s nourished himself with is energy drinks and coffee, but that’s only to keep up his energy so he can look for you. The very thought about sitting down and eating makes him sick. How can he? You're his will to live! If he can't find you … no, he doesn't want to think about that. He is going to find you. He has to.

Yesterday when he walked into your room and found that you weren’t there, he had freaked out. First, the thought that you had snuck down to the cafeteria. Firstly, he had gotten annoyed. Like, hasn’t he made it clear to you not to leave his room without him by your side? He promised himself that he would punish you if he found you munching on a sandwich down at the cafeteria. He’s had to punish you a few times for sneaking out or talking with other patients and doctors and it hurts him so much every time. He doesn’t blame you, never does. You’re a little sweetheart, it's other peoples’ bad influence that makes you act badly. But that’s why Dr Kry is here. He’ll always make sure you never get in trouble.

He couldn’t figure out for the life of him who could have made you sneak out, but he promised himself to make sure they never talk to you again. To his disappointment, the cafeteria was empty. Somehow, he was happy that you weren’t here, it meant that you didn’t betray his trust by walking down here … but he’s disappointed because that meant that you could be anywhere in this large building. Or even outside in the harsh, cruel world. He had asked people if they’d seen you, but he got two answers — both disappointing. They’d either not seen you … or they didn’t know who you are. Dr Kry kicked a trash can on his way to the security room. On the way, he met one of the doctor assistants he never talks to. The man avoided his gaze and switched corridors the second they walked past each other. He watched the security footage … but it was all deleted. There was nothing to see. You were nowhere to be seen!

Dr Kry has been all over the town in search of you. He's been to your parents house (without them noticing), to your friends houses (you’ve only told him about them once, but he remembers so well) and all the possible places you could hide — such as coffee shops and parks. You’re nowhere to be found.

He sinks down in his seat in the car and hides his face into his hands. Where are you? He doesn’t believe that you’ve hid from him anymore. You wouldn’t last this long. If you wanted to give him a scare, you’d hide for an hour or so and then pop out to scare him … you wouldn’t do this. Someone must have taken you.

It hits him. Someone must have seen you. You can’t just have disappeared like that. He thinks harder, enough to make his brain creak. There was no footage from the security cameras from the night you disappeared from the period of two am to three am. Someone must have deleted it.

That assistant. The one he passed by yesterday. It must have been him.

Day 3

“Today, my little doll, we’ll see how your brain reacts to physical pain!”

You don’t answer. Three days have passed and you’ve already lost all hope. Not a single bite of food have you been granted and not a single drop of water. If you don’t get to drink today you’ll die. Somehow you hope that the freak behind the one sided mirror won’t give you any water. You just want to get out of here and if the only way is death … then so be it. You feel like you’re a ghost. None of this is really real, you’re not actually sitting in the chair, your hands aren’t actually chained. You’re just dreaming. You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here.

The door opens and the man enters. You can’t look at him, he makes your stomach turn.

“Before we start, I remembered that you need to have something yummy to eat”, he says as if he was talking to a doll or a child. “I brought you mashed potatoes.”

“I don’t want it”, you mumble.

“Open up.”

He holds the spoon with mashed potatoes to your mouth. You keeps your lips together and turn your head away. The man pokes your cheek with the spoon, growing more and more impatient.

“Eat. It.”

You gather enough courage to shake your head.

“Ungrateful little bitch!” he shouts and flips the table over.

You choke back a scream and break out in sobs, squeezing your eyes shut. Your entire body is shaking with terrified sobs. He slaps you with all his might causing your head to swing to the side. Your body would follow if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re chained to the table. You sob more at the fear of this madman than the stinging pain.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll have to finish up our playtime earlier than I want to”, the man whispers and grabs your face between his cold, disgusting hands. “And I want to play with you for a bit more.”

You glare at him through your tears. He picks up a scalpel from his white lab coat and places it over your bare arm. You shake your head desperately, voice no longer working.

“It’s just a test, my little doll”, he whispers. “Everything is for human kind, okay?”

“No!” you manage to shout. “I don’t want it, stop it!”

Too late. He has let the sharp knife-like object over your arm. You let out a loud scream which echoes in the room and makes the man smile.

“So beautiful”, he purrs and lets the bloody scalpel run lazily over your lips. “My own little doll ... I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

The door bursts open and before you can register anything, the man in front of you has been tackled to the floor and beaten to a pulp. You recognize the blonde hair and break out into relieved sobs. The man stands up, blood covering his white lab coat.

“Shh, it’s okay”, he pants as he unlocks your chains. “Don’t cry, I’m here now.”

As soon as your hands are free, you wrap them around his strong neck and bury your head into his shoulder. Dr Kry hates to see the cuts on your body and he hates to feel how you tremble in his arms. He lifts you up and you hook your legs around his waist. With one muscular arm around your waist and one around your shoulders, he carries you out of this horrifying room. A few guards run past him to get the unconscious man.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, Dr Kry whispers with tears in his throat as he walks. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll kill him, I promise. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again. I’ll take care of you better, never let you out of my sight.”

You cry against his shoulder as he takes you back to your room. You cling onto him even tighter. He’s your knight in shining armor, he saved you! You’ll always be in debt to him. Fantastic Dr Kry.

Dr Kry places you down on your bed and starts to look and feel around, to see if you’re really here or if he’s hallucinating. He hasn’t been sleeping for a long time.

“You need to wash yourself”, he says. “You look horrible. I can do it for you.”

You nod. Dr Kry picks you up again and walks into the bathroom. You get placed in the tub before he removes the dirty hospital gown. He’ll burn it — never want to see it again. You sit in the bathtub and hug your legs close to your naked body to hide, wishing to never exist again. Dry Kry wishes that you didn’t hide, you’re so beautiful. He shakes his head. Now’s not the time. He feels the water pouring from the showerhead with one hand as he adjusts the water with the other.

“Bend your head back for me”, he says softly. “I don’t want to pour water into your eyes.”

You bend your head back and he starts to pour the lukewarm water over your hair.

“Is it comfortable?” he asks.

You nod carefully, scared of every single action.

“How did you find me?” you whisper.

“I found the guy that helped your sick capturer. I pulled him into a storage room and forced him to tell me where you were”, Dr Kry says, hatred in his voice.

He won’t say what he threatened the assistant with, but you can only imagine.

“I came just in time”, Dr Kry says. “He was going to hurt you badly, that son of a bitch. I’ll make sure he pays for it, my- …” He cuts himself off, almost giving you a pet name. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “I’ll make him pay.”

“What were you going to say?” you ask quietly.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You give him the sweetest doe eyes that makes him melt and he can’t do anything else but tell you.

“I was going to call you ‘my little one’”, he says with a shy smile and runs his free hand through your wet hair, the other one continuing to pour water on your scalp.

“I like that”, you whisper and look down.

Dr Kry smiles in relief. God, you’re so fucking cute.

“You are my little one”, he says softly. “My only little one.”

He melts at the sight of your small smile. He’ll never let anyone steal that smile from you again. He’ll never let anyone take you from him again.

“Doctor …”, you whisper weakly as he shampoos your hair.

“Yeah?”

“Please never leave me. He scared me so badly.”

“Never. I’ll always protect you. I’ll lock your door at night and be much, much more careful. I’ll make sure he disappears, okay?”

You nod tiredly. Dr Kry sighs and leans forward to press a promising kiss to your forehead.

After he’s bathed you, he gives you a new hospital gown and tucks you into your bed. You hug the teddy bear and sniffle. Dr Kry glances down at the bruises around your wrists and gets filled with anger once again. He’s going to kill that psychopath. How dare he touch his darling?

As soon as you fall asleep, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. He feels the handle to make sure that it's locked before scurrying away to the security room. He turns off the cameras and grabs a crowbar on his way. This motherfucker is going to die. Normally, Dr Kry doesn't like getting his hands dirty, but this time he's looking forward to it.

He opens the door to the jail cell. The man is sitting on the bench inside with his head in his hands. He looks up and his eyes widen.

"D-Dr Kry, listen, man-", he starts, trembling.

"Quiet", Dr Kry growls. "I don't want to hear a single word from you. I'm going to kill you."

"Y-You can't, the cameras-"

"Your little friend isn't the only one who can manipulate cameras." Dr Kry swings the crowbar around his hand. "No one will know who killed you and I don't think anyone will care either. You're mine to play with now."

The man goes white.

"I'm going to play with you like you played with my darling", Dr Kry says in a warning calmness and takes a step forward. "I'm going to give back for everything you did to them."

"I'll never touch them again, I promise!"

"You bet you won't. They're mine, do you hear that? Only mine. The fact that you thought you had the audacity to touch them is enough for me to kill you. But after what you've done … I'm going to make you suffer." Dr Kry towers over the trembling man. "I'm going to beat you so badly that you can't move, can't think, can't breathe. The dying part will be done by yourself."

"N-No please, I'm sorry!"

Dr Kry swings his crowbar. "Too late."

He closes the door behind him.

920 notes · View notes

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 11 months ago

Text

injections, inspections, detections, erections

pairing: leon kennedy/ashley graham

cw: smut, daddy kink, first time, medical stuff (needles mentioned)

summary: ...and no protection leon is a perv and he takes ashley's virginity, but it's 100% consensual (he just has very dirty thoughts about her...and they come true)

wc: 4.8k

ao3 link

It’s wrong. Leon knows this for a fact. If he believed in hell, he’d have his route there planned. He’s stuck in a catch-22 where he knows he’ll either have to give into his depraved mind and rub one out to the thought of Ashley in that tiny little schoolgirl skirt or pray that his dick goes soft eventually. He’s starting to think he might get a blood clot in his cock or it’ll get so hard it breaks off. Maybe there’d be a sexy nurse at the hospital to fix him up. Doesn’t sound so bad. He’s imagining some blonde girl, Ashley-esque and ingenue. Can’t get her off his mind.

He should be happy to get some time off from work, but what is he supposed to do with the free time other than jerk off? And he swears he’s seen every video on the internet that’s even mildly erotic and decides the most interesting thing he can do is to clean up the mess he’s made of his apartment in the past couple of days. That’s when he finds the photo shoved into some pocket of whatever gear he was wearing in Spain. When he came home, he’d just dropped it in the doorway, immediately heading over to the couch to lay face down and get zero sleep.

Now he’s holding the photo of Ashley, the one her dad handed him. Her daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Ashley calling him daddy. The thought makes his tip leak. Leon’s been holding off like a good little soldier for too long. But now, his right hand is covered in as much saliva as he can conjure up and his left is sweaty, gripping the photo. He’s almost proud of his aim when he watches cum paint her face. Not her real face, my god, that’d be fucking fantastic.

Leon realizes the real mistake of this, which is that this is the only photo he has of her and now it’s covered in jizz. The guilt sinks in when he semi-successfully wipes the cum off the photo and he can see her face more clearly. He doesn’t want to degrade her like that. He remembers looking into her father’s eyes and shaking his hand, promising to save her when he was given this photo. The one he’s now desecrated, or baptized depending on how you look at it. Leon doesn’t know. He’s never been to church.

It’s wrong. At least from some angles. But, then again, President Graham surely owes him something in return for saving his precious little girl. Aren’t you supposed to get virgins in heaven if you’re good? He’s not good, but is one too much to ask for, god? He’s been good, he swears, mostly good. And, really, she doesn’t need to be a virgin, but the thought of it really sweetens the deal.

President Graham said he’d do anything for Leon - that was before he’d actually gone and gotten Ashley, but hey maybe Leon could ask a little favor of him now. Anything? Really? How about your daughter’s virginity? If that’s still available. Let her call me daddy for the night.

Maybe he could bring it up as a joke and see if it goes over well. It’s wrong, though, so he doesn’t do it.

Inevitably, he sees Ashley again when the lab brings them both in - for testing or for questioning or who the fuck knows what. Whatever it is, it’s under the guise of “making sure they’re safe”, but Leon’s not so bright-eyed about this whole saving the world thing the DSO pretends to do. They couldn’t be bothered to go see the plaga for themselves, so they’ve got the next best thing: Leon and Ashley, their little dissectables.

The scientists don’t rip them open, but they’re sure as hell invasive. Drink this, lie down on the table, let us look into your insides with our fancy x-ray machine. The only thing Leon can think about is the fact that Ashley’s naked in the other room. At least, presumably, since he’s naked in this one. It’d be a nice thought if he had more covering him than a hospital gown and the medical staff wasn’t playing around with him like a Ken doll. Well, Ken, unlike Leon, doesn’t have anything to show down there. You know what they say , Leon thinks, if you’ve got it, flaunt it . He’s got nothing to be ashamed of in that department. In fact, he thinks he catches one of his nurses staring for a little bit longer than is medically necessary. It’s okay with him, though.

They take saliva samples, hair samples, piss samples, blood samples. Leon considers the possibility that they’d ask for a fucking semen sample next, which wouldn’t be that hard for him to provide. But they don’t. He gets a knock on the door after his blood sample is done.

“Sir? Are you decent?”

You tell me, Doc. Am I?

“Yep, you can come in.”

“This may sound a little bit unorthodox-”

Fuck, it’s the semen sample, isn’t it?

“But your friend is nervous about getting her blood drawn, and she agreed to let us take the sample if you came in and held her hand.”

Aw, little baby girl needs a big strong man to comfort her.

“Okay,” he says, trying to avoid feeling a little bit excited at the prospect of her needing him.

Ashley perks up a bit when Leon comes in. She looks like she’d been crying.

“Hey, Ash. You okay?”

“I just don’t like needles.”

As instructed, Leon walks over to hold her hand.

“It’s okay,” he says, “you’re a big girl. You can do this.”

You’re my good girl, he thinks as he strokes the back of her hand.

“All done,” he says when the doctor removes the needle, “you did a good job.”

He’s just being a good friend – a good man - so it shouldn’t feel the way it does, but when Ashley looks all shy about it, the words just feel different.

“Can we go now?” Leon’s getting real impatient with the whole thing because he hasn’t eaten or jerked off in the past few hours.

“Actually, we’re going to have you both stay overnight.”

“What? Coulda told me that earlier, don’t ya think? Not like I bring my toothbrush everywhere.”

“We have toothbrushes and pajamas for both of you.”

They can spend money on pajamas, but can’t give him a raise. Bullshit.

“No,” Ashley whines, “I need my blanket.”

“We have blankets,” the doctor ensures.

“No, it’s a special blanket, and my teddy bear.”

She’s too precious. Leon wants to feel sorry for, but he can’t stop thinking about how perfectly she fits into all his fantasies. Leon wonders what the teddy bear would think about what he’d do to her in her bedroom if given the chance. Would Ashley’s little girl toys wanna watch him fuck her brains out?

Ashley ends up calling her father to ask him to bring her things, “Daddy, please?” Leon hears her say.

Fucking hell. Daddy, please? That’s just cruel. Leon’s rock hard now and hoping they ask for a semen sample, but they don’t.

Ashley’s dad can’t come, at least that’s what he says on the phone, which makes her cry. Leon wonders if that’s the truth or if he’s just letting her down easy. He doesn't have too much faith in government officials these days. If Leon was her daddy, he’d treat her better than that.

Normally, Leon would be tired and reluctant to help. He’s got his own shit to deal with. But, now, Ashley’s face is buried in his chest and he’s rubbing her back. Is this what paternal instinct feels like? Is this what it feels like to be a dad, to be a daddy?

The doctors give them the option for separate rooms, but Ashley says she doesn’t want to be alone. It makes sense, really, since they’ve barely been back for a week - Ashley’s probably dealing with the same shit Leon did in ‘98 which never fully went away.

They must really wanna examine her - not in the way Leon does - because they give into her request to let them share a room, once Leon agrees, of course. For better or worse, it’s two beds in one room.

It’s kinda fucked, in Leon’s opinion, that they tell Ashley they’re gonna take more blood from her during their little stay. Surely, that won’t keep her from sleeping at night.

Leon tries to sleep. As he suspected, it doesn’t work for multiple reasons. One, he’s painfully hard, and two, Ashley’s squirming around in her bed, which squeaks when she moves.

“You okay over there?” he says, which is just the polite way of saying, ‘ please shut up, so I can sleep’ .

“No,” she turns to him, “I can’t sleep.”

“Try harder.”

“I can’t. I’m too scared.”

“Scared of what? No one’s gonna hurt you. And if they tried, I’m right here. I’m on the side closest to the door, so they’d have to go through me first.”

“I don’t want them to take more blood.”

He sighs. “I know, Ash, but you got through it last time. You can do it again.”

“Will you hold my hand again?”

“If it’ll help.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

There’s silence for a moment and Leon’s hoping she’s finally passed out but then her little voice pipes up across the room again.

“Leon?”

“Yes?” he says, trying not to sound irritated.

“Will you talk to me? I can’t sleep and I need something else to think about. Besides all this stuff.”

“What do you want me to talk to you about?”

“How about we play truth or dare without the dare?”

“So just ‘truth’?"

“Yeah. I mean, we could play with ‘dare’ as an option too, but I don’t want us to do anything crazy and get in trouble, you know?”

“Fair point.”

Leon doesn’t actually give that much of a fuck about getting in trouble; he’s really just hesitant to get up because he’s sporting an obvious hard-on.

“So, I’ll go first, I guess,” Ashley says, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Um,” Leon hesitates, “straight out the gate with that one…”

“Sorry. I just thought, you know, the nature of the game is to tell secrets and stuff, so it seemed like a good question to ask.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not an interesting story, but to answer your question, I was 16 when it happened.”

“Cool.”

“Mhm. So, now it’s my turn to ask you?”

“Yeah.”

“Same question.”

“You can’t ask the same question.”

“Who says I can’t ask the same question?”

“That’s how truth or dare works. You can’t just go around asking the same questions.”

“It sounds like you’re just avoiding the question. C’mon, I answered, so now it’s your turn.”

Ashley doesn’t meet Leon’s eyes, and he knows what she’s gonna say before she says it.

“I haven’t yet.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Why do you assume I’d make fun of you? It’s not a big deal.”

Yeah, in fact, it’s hot as fuck, Ashley.

“You don’t think so? I’m always worried that guys won’t like me because I haven’t gone all the way yet.”

“No, guys won’t mind it. Trust me.”

“I guess it’s my turn to ask you again… I’ll continue on the same subject - what’s your number, you know, like that kind of number?”

“The number of people I’ve slept with?” he asks though he knows that’s what she means. “Um, 7? I think.”

“Oh.”

“What? Did you expect it to be higher or lower?”

“I don’t know, really.”

“Okay… I guess I can’t ask you the same question this time. What have you done? Since you haven’t had sex, have you done other stuff?”

“Yeah, sorta. Just like, mostly, hand stuff or whatever, and I mean, I did some mouth… stuff to a guy once.”

“He didn’t reciprocate?”

“No.”

You got on your knees for him and put your pretty lips around his cock and he didn’t give you anything in return? That’s practically a sin. Is that what the whole ‘treat thy neighbor’ thing means? If you want your cock sucked, you should learn to eat pussy?“Really?” Leon asks, “Did you bite him or something? Were you really bad at it?”

“No, he… liked it… based on his reaction.”

Bet he did, Ash. I can only imagine.

“He should’ve done something in return then.”

“He said going down on a girl was gross.”

“He’s an idiot, then.”

“Huh? Are you saying it’s not gross?”

“Not at all. Complete opposite.”

“You like doing that?”

“Yeah, why? Is that surprising?”

Leon could eat pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner and be a happy man. He’s never really understood how other men don’t like it.

“I-I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t considered a guy being into that type of thing. If only I could find a guy like you.”

“What do you mean ‘a guy like me’? I’m right here.”

“Huh?”

“I said, if you want a guy like me, you have me, right here.”

“But that doesn’t - you don’t like me. Wait, do you like me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Oh. Wow. You rejected me before, you know, when we were leaving the island, so I thought…”

“I rejected you? I rejected your job offer.”

“I wasn’t offering you a job. I was trying to flirt with you.”

“Oh.”

“It’s my turn now. Truth or dare,” Ashley says, sounding a helluva lot more excited about this game than she was a few seconds prior.

“Truth.”

“No, you’re supposed to choose dare.”

“You shouldn’t have given me the option, then.”

“C’mon please,” she begs, and Leon can’t help the places his filthy mind goes. Ashley, begging for him on her knees, he can see it.

“Fine. What’s your dare?”

“Kiss me.”

“Come here.”

Ashley looks nervous, but she obliges. It was her idea anyway.

“Should I-?”

“Get up here? Yeah, just climb up.”

He sees her hesitate. It is a bit awkward, admittedly. The bed isn’t made for more than one person.

“You won’t hurt me,” he assures her.

“Okay.”

Ashley climbs into his bed and Leon sits up a bit, pulling her properly into his lap. She lets him move her around like he’s playing with a doll, and it only makes him more excited.

“What are you waiting for?,” he says, “You gave me the dare and now it seems like you’re the one chickening out.”

She’s clearly thinking about opening her mouth to say something, but she takes a deep breath and leans in for the kiss. Leon has one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist, toeing the line between touching her tits and touching her ass. He doesn’t want to scare her away, but he also can’t decide which he wants to cop a feel of first.

Ashley’s clearly into the kiss. She’s the one pressing her tongue into Leon’s mouth in fact, but her hands don’t know where to go and it’s cute. Cute little virgin Ashley’s gonna have to get taught by her daddy.

Leon breaks away and says, “You can touch me, you know.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

There’s an unexpected flicker of mischief behind her eyes and he can tell exactly what she’s thinking about doing with her perfect little hands. She starts pawing at his shirt first, though. Good choice. Good girl.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, “I’ll take this off if you take that off.”

“Deal.”

Leon sighs in delight when he sees that Ashley’s not wearing a bra. Just as he suspected.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, which causes her to cover them up.

“Ah-ah,” he says, gently removing her hands, “that’s against the rules.”

And now he’s practically already touching them, so he runs with it, barely brushing across her nipples at first. It still gets a reaction out of her.

He chuckles, making her shy away. “Why’re you nervous?” “I’m not nervous. I just feel- I don’t wanna act weird.”

“Act weird? By enjoying yourself?”

“I guess. I just don’t wanna make weird noises or, I don’t know, embarrass myself.”

“You’re not gonna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry.”

Leon’s honestly more worried that he’ll embarrass himself by cumming in his pants.

Leon’s got one of her tits in each hand again, thumbs gliding over them. If she weren’t so nervous, he'd have one in his mouth already. It’s cute to see how she shivers after almost nothing.

“Do you wanna lie down for me?” he asks, voice all sweet even though his thoughts are anything but.

“Are we going to do it?”

“Have sex? Not yet, and not at all if you don’t want to. I was going to do something else… for you.”

He hopes she gets the picture, and it takes her brain a second to process, but she does.

“Oh, okay. We’ll switch places then?”

He nods and flips her over.

“Whoa!”

“Shh… We don’t wanna get in trouble, right?”

She nods.

“So you’re gonna be quiet, right?”

“I’ll try.”

“Ashley, I’m gonna need you to be a good girl and stay quiet if I’m gonna do this.” “A good girl?” her eyes glimmer when she asks. She likes it. He was so right about her.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, right?” Leon wants her to call him daddy so badly, but he can’t risk fucking this up. He prays she’ll say it somehow, maybe by accident.

“Mhm,” Ashley hums, relaxing a bit into the mattress.

Leon wants to suck on her tits so badly he almost can’t help himself, but he needs to get his face between her legs before she has time to be embarrassed again. He has to do this right. Maybe if he does, he can do it again. He makes his way down her stomach with open-mouthed kisses. Once his mouth meets the waistband of her pajama pants, he looks up at her.

“Mind if I take these off?”

“Okay,” she mumbles.

He slides them down and tosses them over to her bed across the room. Ashley’s panties are adorable, not sexy, but cute , and that makes him far more aroused.

“Sorry. I didn’t really prepare. I would’ve worn something nicer if I’d known.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffs, breath tickling her skin.

“What?”

“These,” he says, running his hands over the fabric, “are so hot you have no idea. I’m just sad I’m gonna have to take them off. Bet you look good under them, too, though.”

He really is sad. He wants to fuck her with her panties on, wants to cum all over them so she has something to remember him by.

“It’s nothing special. I wouldn’t get too excited.”

Leon doesn’t respond. Instead, he kisses her clit through the thin cotton that covers it, and she whines. He decides he’s done wasting time and takes them off.

Leon marvels at the sight of her, “God,” he groans, not even thinking.

“What?” Ashley panics and covers herself. “What’s wrong? Is it ugly?”

“Mm-mm. So goddamn gorgeous, can’t believe someone would pass up the opportunity to taste this.”

Leon’s words coax Ashley’s hands away from her core, so he’s able to spread her legs wider this time. He can already see how wet he’s made her and he can’t help but be proud. She said she didn’t prepare, but she did a nice job trimming down there. It’s not entirely shaved off, but it’s not like Leon gives a fuck. Even if she had a full bush, he’d still go right ahead. It’d be a little inconvenient that way though - getting hair in his mouth would make the process a little less smooth, but Leon’s not picky.

Before he gets his first taste, Leon gently rubs his thumbs over her thighs and her outer folds, eventually bringing one so close to her clit, but not right on it. He brings his mouth closer, so his warm breath fans over it, giving her just enough to make her beg.

“Please,” she says, voice cracking, sounds like she’d cry if he doesn’t do it.

“Please what, baby?”

She can say anything and he’ll do it, but Leon’s not one to pass up the opportunity here. He’s gonna give her the chance to say it, to say what he really, really wants.

Her voice quivers when she says it, but he sees that she’s got stars in her eyes when he looks up at her.

“Please daddy?”

He’ll do anything for her at this point. He’ll go down on her, he’ll fuck her, he’ll withdraw every penny he has from the bank and hand it to her if she asks him like that.

“Good girl,” he says before his mouth meets her skin. His tongue touches her clit and the noise she makes is obscene.

Leon pulls away because he has to - they can’t get in trouble. Really, he doesn’t give a fuck if anyone sees him going down on her, he’d proudly show her off, but if they get caught, he’s probably not going to be allowed to continue. Unless that one nurse would be into a menage a trois situation. She gave him a slutty sort of vibe. He’s not gonna push his luck though.

“Baby girl, remember what daddy said? You gotta be quiet while I do this to you.”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“No sorries, baby. Just don’t wanna have to stop if we get caught.”

She mumbles something incoherent, but regardless Leon’s mouth is back on her cunt, sloppily making out with it. She’s already soaking his face, and she hasn’t even cum yet. He can feel it in the way her thighs tremble that she’s close, though.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” she says before she releases into his mouth.

He doesn’t need a warning, he groans into her core when she cums and he’d be embarrassed if he thought she was in any state of mind to notice. With the way her pussy’s spasming, he doubts she’s conscious of anything.

She practically kicks him away because she’s so oversensitive. He doesn’t tease her because he’s not trying to be mean to her tonight. Maybe some other time if she asks him in that cute little voice. He lifts his head and swipes a thumb over his lips, sucking her juices off his finger while he looks into her eyes.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she says, still breathless.

“Did you like it?” He smiles at her.

“God yes.” She throws her head back and wiggles around in excitement. Adorable.

“I’m glad.” Leon kisses her on the cheek as a goodnight.

He doesn’t expect her to want to continue.

“Now your turn,” she says.

“No, not tonight. Tonight’s your turn.”

“But, but,” she pouts and he’s already melting. If she’s smart she’ll use the ‘d’ word again and get whatever she wants from him.

“But what, sweetheart?”

“I wanna do it…”

“Do what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you want something, you’ve gotta use your words.”

Ashley huffs, and breaks her innocent persona to say, “I want you to fuck me, Leon.” Leon blinks. Wow. Even if they’re not playing ‘daddy’ and ‘baby girl’, he never expected to hear Ashley say that. He considers chiding her, but decides against it. He asked her to tell him and she did. Fair play, Ash.

“You sure?” He says, but he’s already spreading her legs again.

“I’m sure.”

Leon sticks two fingers into Ashley. She’s wet enough that they slide in nice and easy despite her natural tightness. Leon sits up, ready to free himself from his pajama pants finally. When Leon’s cock arrives at the scene, Ashley’s gawking at it in the same way he imagines he ogled her tits.

“What?” He asks, though he’s able to guess what she’ll say. He’s heard it before from other girls.

“It’s big.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll just try our best.”

Ashley’s a strong girl, but he’s never seen such a look of determination on her face. It’s adorable, really. Cuter when Leon sticks the tip in and Ashley’s face scrunches up as she struggles to adjust to his size.

“You’re doin’ so well for me, baby. It’s almost there,” he whispers into her ear.

Leon struggles not to let out what he would deem a whorish moan. He doesn’t wanna break the facade that he’s in charge, even though she absolutely has him wrapped around her finger. Not for long, though. Leon, with the help of his practiced agility, is able to get Ashley into his lap. He wants to hold her close like this. It’s like she can read his mind, the way she muffles her cries by burying her face in his shoulder. He rubs her back and whispers into her ear about how much of a good girl she is.

Leon feels her pussy pulse around him, so he fucks her deeper, slower, too. He wants to savor the moment in case it’s all he gets. He tries to focus, wants to remember this for later when he’s jerking off to it, because he will jerk off to it. Maybe he’ll figure out how to convince her to send him a selfie, so he can cum on her face again.

He can’t see her face when she cums, but he can feel her tears and hear her muffled sobs. In that moment it doesn’t matter how fucked up it might be, the thought of her crying from him fucking her is enough to push Leon over the edge. He realizes he shouldn’t have cum inside her a little too late. He apologizes, but it’s real half-assed because he barely regrets it. He’ll buy her Plan-B in the morning. Maybe they have an on-site pharmacy. He should tip whoever cleans this place since he knows the sheets are disgusting.

Leon cleans Ashley up because he doesn’t want any of the staff to find the evidence if they examine her naked body again. Though Leon likes the thought of the nurse - the slutty one - seeing his cum dripping out of her pussy, he doesn’t want her to be embarrassed. He’ll probably jerk off to the thought of the nurse finding out. He imagines she’d get jealous and beg for him to do the same for her.

Ashley wants to sleep in Leon’s bed, and he agrees to let her under the condition that they’ll put clothes on. If they fall asleep naked, he’ll wake up hard. He has to help her put on pajamas because her legs shake. Poor baby. He’s almost sorry he fucked her that hard on the first time. Hopefully she’s not sore. He cuddles her to sleep and it’s not out of obligation or pity. Leon’s might be filthy, but he has emotions too, and once his dick is finally soft, they come to the forefront. Daddies like to hug their baby girls too. Leon thinks cuddling is manly as long as he gets to be big spoon.

The lady who made them stay overnight wakes them up and finds them in bed together. Leon tells her that Ashley got scared and makes sure to emphasize that she couldn’t sleep because they made her nervous when they told her she’d have to get more blood drawn. He tries to lay it on thick, make her feel a little guilty because he does feel bad for Ashley. As much as Leon wants to resist letting himself care on a personal level about anyone, he cares a lot about Ashley. It’s stupid. She was supposed to be a mission objective, someone he was supposed to protect temporarily, but now he wants to protect her forever.

He holds her hand when she gets her blood drawn the next day and kisses her on the cheek in front of the nurse because he’s proud of his little girl and doesn’t care what others think. It makes Ashley blush, but he knows she likes it.

When they’re finally done with their stint at the medical facility, Leon’s actually kind of upset. But Ashley puts her number in his phone with a heart next to her name and texts him when she gets home safe.

He’s pretty sure she’ll be receptive when he asks her to hang out again, maybe even go on a real date. He’s hoping that Ashley can sweet talk her dad into letting him get some more time off because now he’s got something - or someone - to do in his free time. President Graham’s got Leon by the balls and now he’s pussy-whipped over Ashley. Like father, like daughter. Father, not daddy. The president’s just her father, Leon is Ashley’s daddy.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leshley #eagleone #leon x ashley #fics #miss oranje fics

135 notes · View notes