#finding God in the bottom of the beaker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

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A/N: I would like to preface this by letting everyone know that I am in no way knowledgeable about actual science things. That being said I am amazed that in a random draw I actually managed to get a prompt that had to do with flowers lol. This is my contribution to the BakuHarem Collab! Please take a second to check out the other contributions here!

Warning: bad science, no protection, swearing, overs!mulation, accidental exhibti0som, intoxicated smut? idk sex pollen is a drug i guess.....

W/C: 3.5k

“Bakugou, dude. We should not-”

“Shut up Kirishima!” Bakugou walks through the sterile hallways checking every corner for signs of other people. “That bitch took my top spot with some bullshit flowers?!” He finally gets to the lab that was granted to you for your research. After winning first place, stealing first place in the UA university science expo. He walks into the observing lobby, looking through the large window to make sure you weren’t working in the lab after hours.

“Just keep quiet and listen for any one coming this way.” He walks over to the security door and holds his key card up to it, the light on the scanner turns green and he hears the dead bolt slide open.

Kirishima is lingering behind him, hovering in the doorway. He turns to Bakugou to talk him out of this again but his friend has already entered the lab. “Ahh geez.” He didn’t even wear any safety gear.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Bakugou stops to examine the lab. Several different species of flowers in full bloom behind temperature controlled enclosures. Some of them are recognizable; lavender, chamomile, and jasmine. “I thought it would smell like the perfume department, this fuckin place smells like heaven.” Guess it wasn’t a new shampoo she was using then.

He walks through the aisles turning his head this way and that, trying to find something, anything that he can fuck up without it being overtly obvious. He gets to the back corner of the lab and sees a piece of familiar equipment. “Perfect.”

*****

“He said WHAT?!”

Your roommate flinches at your reaction to her news. “He told Professor Aizawa that your ‘Viagra flowers’ are a joke to the science department and they should ‘wither and die’.”

You’re fuming. That fuck tard Bakugou, mister my shit don’t stink is ridiculing my research? “All that man knows is how to blow shit up! Just cause I beat him in the expo this year, he thinks my research is a joke?!” You stand up from the couch, pacing in front of it and you can’t decide whether to scream or cry. “Why did I ever like that twat?”

Cause he has wide shoulders, big hands and scarlet eyes that -

“Oh for the love of god shut up.” Screw your inner thoughts.

Ochako watches you pace, worrying in her eyes when yours line with silver and your neck flushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

You stop moving and look at her, guilt flooding through you as she slumps forward. “Don’t apologize, I was talkin to myself babe.” She nods her head weakly and you stand up straight “I’m gonna go.” You walk to the door grabbing your coat and key card.

“W-where are you going?” Ochako follows you to the door and grabs your wrist gently. You turn to her and smile, she was always so sweet but you knew that if shit went down she would be right beside you, kicking ass.

“I need to blow off some steam, so I’m gonna go check on my ‘Viagra flowers’.” She huffs a laugh and let's go.

“Alright, don’t stay too late.”

You nod, put on your shoes and leave the dorm. It’s a bit of a walk to the building the lab is in and hopefully the cool breeze will calm your mind.

*****

As you walk into the building you are grateful that your professor is more of a night owl than most students. Considering how many naps he takes during lectures it is no wonder he can’t sleep at night. You contemplate going to his office to say hi but think better of it.

Don’t wanna end up venting about Bakugou to my professor of all people.

You walk down the hallway and notice the door to your lab is cracked. Not unusual, a lot of students from your class have been coming and going to see the different species of flowers and plants you are growing. Assuming someone didn’t shut the door behind them you take your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Out of the corner of your vision a quick flash of red and you walk right into Kirishima, Bakugou’s friend and one of your classmates.

“Hey! How- how's it goin?”

You take a step back, rubbing your nose from face planting into his giant chest. Does this guy eat boulders for breakfast? “Hey Kiri! Just gonna do some late night tests! You checkin out my garden?”

“Yeah! Flowers are pretty.” He laughs, it’s high pitched and obviously forced.

You take in his nervous appearance, the fact that he is still standing in front of the door and your mood sours.

“Where is he?”

Kirishima looks like he is gonna try and stall but one look at the fury in your eyes and his head hangs down. “He’s in the lab,” you rush past him and punch in the code to open the door. “I tried to talk him out of it!”

The door clicks shut and the spiky blonde huffs in annoyance somewhere in the back of the lab.

“I told you shitty hair, if you’re gonna keep a look out you have to stand outside.”

You clear your throat and his head shoots up. You walk over to him, taking note of all of the plants and equipment, taking note of anything that looks different. As you get closer to him you notice that he smells particularly good tonight.

Keep it in your pants idiot

“Really Bakugou?” You stop a few steps away from him, noticing the various disassembled parts on the counter top behind him. “What were you gonna do, break my extraction equipment and make it look like a malfunction? Are you a B-Movie villain?”

He stands up and you are reminded of how small you feel next to him, wide shoulders, arms barely fitting the t-shirt he was wearing, strong chest that tapers to a toned waist. He laughs and you look at his face. What I wouldn’t give to just lick from your navel to your neck.

“A B-Movie villain huh? That’s rich coming from the fanfiction cliché scientist.” He crosses his arms, your eyes quickly dart to the sight of his biceps flexing with the movement then back at him.

“Fanfiction cliché? What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You take another step towards him, softly inhaling his scent. Why does he smell so good?

He laughs at you again, the sound caresses your skin and you realize your feeling very, very hot. You drag your fingers through your hair, your eyes zeroing in on a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. When you lick your lips and shift to take another step closer a small part of your brain connects the dots. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Bakugou looks at you, noticing your flushed cheeks and eyes that show you aren’t quite your normal smart and sexy self. Reaching behind himself you hear the unmistakable sound of clinking glass, he grabs a beaker, an open beaker. “Just grabbed this from your equipment, I know how long it takes to extract this stuff. Would suck if it were to suddenly go missing.”

“You idiot! Do you know how potent it is in that form?!” You reach for it but he pulls the beaker out of your reach. “Why do you think I keep it enclosed? You have to close it up now!”

“Why should I?”

Honestly how stupid can this guy get?!

“Put it back in the enclosure first and I’ll explain it to you!” Your breathing is getting heavy, the closer you get to Bakugou the hotter your body feels. You lunge for him again and trip, he hurries to put the beaker on the table behind him and catch you. Put off balance from the position you both crash to the floor with him underneath you. Sighing in frustration you lift yourself up only to bump your head on the table, knocking over the beaker and spilling the extract over you both.

“Shit!” You scramble off of him and run to the door, pressing the exposure button and effectively locking it. You turn to Bakugou and back up trying your best to keep your distance. “Stay on that side of the room, if we’re far enough apart the effects won’t be as bad.”

“What are the effects?” The question is spoken so calmly that you almost convince yourself he didn’t speak at all.

“What are the fucking side effects!?” His shirt is soaked, sticking to his tanned skin. The outline of his chiseled body makes your mouth go dry. You look back at his face, his mouth twisted in frustration at your silence but no less attractive. The sharp angle of his jawline, pink lips slightly chapped, aristocratic nose, scarlet eyes that-

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Shaking your head to clear some of the fog in your brain, you focus on him again.

“It’s an aphrodisiac so obviously it enhances sexual desire.”

“Yeah-yeah, sex pollen I get it. But what else?” he rings out the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slightly and you avert your eyes.

“It is not sex pollen, I don’t even use the pollen of the plant.” the last part coming out in a mumble. “The aphrodisiac only works on people who are consenting adults that are attracted to each other.” You clear your throat.

Bakugou freezes for a moment and looks up at you, examining you. The flushed skin, short breaths, and how you keep as much distance between the two of you as the small lab provides.

“So why are you so far away then?” The smirk on his face is sinful as all hell.

Cheeky bastard.

“Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.” Resisting the urge to turn your face away from him like a pouty child..

“HA!” The smug look on his face momentarily lifts the cloud of lust and replaces it with anger. “Of course you’re attracted to me, who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?” Hoping you're not about to embarrass yourself you take a chance and muster up some courage. Slowly walking up to him you notice that his forehead is glistening with sweat, his breathing heavy, ears and back of his neck flushed with pink. “Tell me, Katsuki. How are you feeling?”

A few steps and you can see his hands balled up in white knuckled fists, a few more his jaw clench and unclench. Once you are only an arms length away you can see him swallow harshly, Adam's apple bobbing, nostrils flaring. You push your breasts against his toned chest, the light friction causing a moan to escape your mouth, the sound going straight to his cock.

“I’m - I’m fine.” Bakugou clears his throat, the sound of his first name from your lips sweeter than it should be.

“Lookin a little flushed, you feeling hot?”

He doesn’t answer, his attention captured by the closeness of your body, your lips, the tops of your breasts peeking out of the v neck top you’re wearing.. He stops breathing when your tongue flicks out to lick your bottom lip.

“Cat got your tongue?”

On impulse his hands move to rest on your hips, eyes never leaving your lips. “What was the question again?”

“How. Are. You. Feeling.” you walk your fingers up his chest with each word before pulling his head down so you can whisper in his ear, the anger fading fast. “Katsuki.” You hear him growl, the sound reverberating through your core, then you're being picked up.

“I’m gonna ruin you.” Bakugou crashes his lips to yours, pressing you up against one of the walls and bracing you with one hand so that the other can wrap around your throat. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He bites your lip, licking it to soothe the hurt. “Smart, funny, sexy, beautiful.”

You whine at the words and grind against the bulge in his pants, your pussy throbbing with need. “Need to feel you touch me Bakugou.” He stops moving and you shift to try and grind against him again but he holds you tight, slightly squeezing the sides of your neck.

“What happened to calling me by my first name, baby girl?” Loosening his hand and crouching down as if to put you down you sputter out “Kat-Katsuki Please touch me.”

The feral grin on his face has your pussy drooling and you all but sigh in relief when he stands up straight and slips a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. “Oh god yes.”

“You’re so soft baby,” he pulls one of the cups down and rolls your nipple in between his fingers. “Take off your shirt, wanna see those pretty tits.”

Katsuki keeps playing with your nipple when you rip your shirt off, making short work of your bra and tossing it. As soon as the other nipple is in view he dives down to suckle it, his mouth hot. You throw your head back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing your chest out to give him better access.

He is merciless in his teasing, alternating between breasts, making sure to suck each nipple till they are both hard peaks. Kissing the top of your soft globes, your collarbone and neck, everywhere his mouth goes is left with a mark in varying shades of red and purple.

You grow impatient with him, needing to make him feel as good wanting to feel him with your hands, mouth, teeth.

“Wanna feel you too Katsuki.” you whine as he pinches one nipple while nibbling the other one. When you pull on his hair a little he groans but lifts his head, pulling both nipples with him before letting them go.

“What do ya wanna feel, baby girl?”

With all your inhibitions throw out the window you lean down and whisper in his ear. “Wanna feel you fuck me.”

You pull away and he quickly sets you down, you’re about to object when he takes his shirt off in one smooth motion then starts unbuttoning his jeans. You rush to follow, unzipping your pants and pulling them down, before you can pull down your panties he grabs your hand stopping you. “Leave ‘m on.”

Katsuki picks you up again before you can get a good look at his cock, but when it's pressed against you there is no need to see it. “Fuck you’re huge.”

He smirks at you, smug pride in his eyes. “Glad you approve.” Reaching a hand down he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds. “This all for me?” bringing his fingers up to show you the slick dripping down them he puts them in his mouth and sucks. “Gonna have to enjoy that tasty treat later.”

Your body is burning up, breathing is heavy as you both watch him drag his cock along your wet slit before pushing in. Your moans echo in the lab and neither one of you cares as Katsuki's cock drags against your inner walls until bottoming out. Right now is not the time for slow strokes, not with the aphrodisiac flowing through both of your bodies, so he starts a pace that has your ass slapping against his thighs.

“C-cumming!” You scream out before your body bows in on itself and you're creaming around his cock.

“Already?” a sideways grin on his face Katsuki starts moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, his cock reaching that much deeper. “Gonna cum for me again? Come on baby, wanna feel you milk my cock.”

Your mind is going blank, the only thing running through it is Katsuki. “Please don’t stop,” you dig your nails into his shoulders. “M Gonna cum again.” His thrusts go shallow and the head of his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

You’re repeating his name endlessly, the only word that is in your mind then you’re cumming again. Your legs tense around his waist and your pussy clenches down hard enough that he has to stop moving or risk hurting you. He watches your face contorted in pleasure and starts thrusting as soon as he feels your orgasm subside.

“One more.”

Your head fuzzy, body limp from two orgasms. “I can’t!”

“Wrong,” Katsuki pulls out for a second, setting you on the floor and pushing on your back. You obediently bend forward grabbing the edge of the counter top and he wastes no time in rutting back into you. “You want me to stop?”

“NO”

“Then you got one more beautiful thing.” He sticks two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet then reaches around rubbing soft circles on your puffy clit. His other hand gripping your hip, before moving up and grabbing your shoulder using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.

“Come on, cum for me.”

You turn your head to the side trying your best to look in his eyes, yours tearing up at the overstimulation. “You cum too, fill me up Katsuki.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” Bending his knees he thrusts up into you and with the new angle, teasing circles being rubbed on your clit and the feral moans coming out of his mouth you cum one last time.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

Katsuki cums after you, rope after rope of cum coating your fluttering walls.

You both stand there catching your breath. Katsuki pulls out and you whimper, “Oh don’t worry beautiful,” he picks you up again, walks over to a chair and sits down with you in his lap “not done with you yet.”

By the time you are spent both of you are exhausted and lost track of how many times either of you came. He helps you stand up, quickly pulling your panties back in place. “Don’t want you leakin.”

You giggle and pick up your clothes from the floor, he helps you get dressed and you both walk to the door. Making sure to check the air quality before leaving the lab you confirm that nothing is left in the air and unlock it. Before opening the door you turn to him opening your mouth to ask a question but he talks first.

“Let's go back to my room, yeah? I’ll help you clean up.” His voice rough from moaning and growling but you can see a small smile on his lips. Even though you know that the effects of the extract have worn off you can’t help but worry that he is still under their influence. Nodding your head you turn away from him again and open the door, walking into the lobby.

“I assume you're finished with the lab?”

You stop dead in your tracks, Katsuki bumping into you. “P-professor Aizawa?” Red hair peeks out behind him and Kirishima looks at you both with a nervous sharp toothed smile and red face. The fog of your memory clears and you vaguely remember hearing knocking on the window and door while you were… indisposed.

Katsuki steps in front of you, from the lack of red on his face or neck you know he isn’t nearly as mortified as you. “How long have you been standing there?”

The tired eyes of your teacher examine both of you. “Long enough.” He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are both to meet me in my office tomorrow morning.”

And just before you can’t get anymore embarrassed he walks out and says over his shoulder. “The labs aren’t sound proof, and these walls echo.”

@doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @sugarspiceanddynamight

#bnharem collab #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x you #lilliths masterlist #lillith writes

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x y/n

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rudystopit · 3 years

Text

Let the Games Begin

[Gojo x F!reader]

summary: gojo is a lab assistant who flirts with everyone he meets. this particular day, he decided that you're the perfect person to tease that day.

warnings: nsfw, college au, public sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, and fingering.

wc: 2k

everyday since the beginning of the spring semester, the lab assistant has not missed a day of flirting with the girls. the professor sees it but does nothing to stop him. he thinks because he got piercing blue eyes and snowy hair that he's hot shit and girls will fall all over him. well he's right... for the most part. girls fall for him and they love it when he gives them an ounce of attention. and well he is attractive. it's just he's also arrogant and cocky.

you walk into your lab ready to start whatever dumb thing your professor has planned. you sit a one of the long tables and read the instructions. you notice the white hair man saunter up to you.

"go away gojo," you mumble.

"i'm hurt. i thought you loved me, y/n" he dramatically holds his chest.

"id love to kick you in the face," you look up and he's inches away from your face. his hand holds your chin.

"you're eyes are so beautiful, y/n" you smack his hand away and look back at the paper. "is that a blush i see?" he sits across from you. "aww does y/n have a secret crush on me?" he laughs.

you sigh and walk over to get the materials. other students start walking in and gojo gets called away.

'thank god that idiot is gone,' you thought as you collect a beaker and some chemicals. you walk back to your table and start measuring out what you need. you pour the blue liquid into the cylinder and look at the little lines. you started to feel like someone was watching you.

you yank your skirt down. hopefully the feeling didn't come from someone accidentally seeing your panties. suddenly your phone vibrates the table. you glance at it.

you looked around and you saw the white hair asshole sitting two tables behind you. you glared at him and pulled your skirt down more. you went back to the experiment. you measure out the clear liquid. you wrote down how much of each.

you slowly pour the blue into the beaker. then the clear. you sat and watched the reaction. you wrote down what you saw then went to the sinks to wash and dispose of the liquids.

while at the sink, you feel a large body press up against you. his hands resting on the counter at your sides. he leans down to your ear and whispers, "wanna do our own experiment?" you finish cleaning the beaker and cylinders. you turn face him. he smiles and starts to lean down to you. you smack him square across the face.

"i was just playing. damn y/n," he pouts as you walk about to your table. you sit down and do the reading attached to the lab. you answer the stupid questions and write up the conclusion. you hand it in and see people leaving.

you always stay behind and clean up after labs to help out the professor. you start by picking up all the beakers and cleaning them. there about 15 students and some partner up so it wasn't a lot but they've gotta be really cleaned. you hum while washing the beakers.

"that was pretty rude of you, you know," he complains while sitting on a desk.

"i don't care," you answer. he jump down and walks to you. he leans against the other sink. you "accidentally" splash him with water to get him to move.

"damn you y/n," he says with a smile. "now i'm wet," you giggle to yourself. "oh you think it's funny?"

"yeah," you laugh. he fills a beaker with water and throws it at you. today was a shitty day to wear white... his face goes red and he turns away. "you dumbass," you turn off the water and go to your bag. you always kept a hoodie in there in case one of your classes gets too cold. you unbutton the shirt and fold it. you feel his eyes locked on your body. you didn't hear him walk up to you so when you felt large cold hands grad you side, you yelped. you quickly pull on your hoodie. "back off perv,"

"you're the one who strips right in front of me," he smiles.

"i thought your could handle yourself," you spit. you grab your bag and start out the door.

"help me clean up the mess you started!" he yells.

"no, piss off loser," you continue out the door. you hear his footsteps chasing you. you booked it. you hid in the stairwell to catch your breath. you sat down on the cold floor.

you hear the door open. shit. you get up and run up the stairs. you hear him sprint up the stair after you. you just challenged the star track player to a race. you were never going to win.

you open the top door. the old lab rooms. it was dark so at least you could hide. you sprinted down the hallway and went into one of the room. you slide under the professor desk. you scrunched into a ball and waited for your impending doom. you hear the stairway door slam down.

"y/n you know i'll find you!" he yells. you giggle to yourself. you would never admit it out loud but you were having so much fun.

you heard his footsteps in the other rooms and moving of desks and slamming of doors. it was getting pissed. you phone vibrated.

you turn your phone completely off so he couldn't hear the vibration. you hear him walk into the room you were in. he walks around and pushes a few desks then he closed the door. you moved from your spot and checked to see if he was still there. if he wasn't you were gonna make a break off it and run across campus.

you shuffled to see around the filing cabinet part of the desk. you felt a hand grab your foot. shit. he pulls you up from under the desk.

"gotcha!" he pins you down with your hands above your head. his knees on either side of your hips. "you tricky little bitch," he says through gritted teeth. you could help but laugh. his hand goes around your throat. you instantly stop.

"gojo," you try to say. "ok you won, get off."

"you really think we're done here, y/n?" he smiles. your heart is beating out of your chest. you try to push him off. "i've liked you since you started here. i always tried to act cool and try to get your attention but no you hate me. you actually hate," tear form in his eyes.

"i don't hate you, but i really don't like you right now," you say. he lets go of your neck and wrist. you sit up and slide away from him.

he sat there silently crying. you watched him. after a few minutes of thinking you push yourself closer to him. you wipe his eyes. he leans into your hand. his large hand lays flat against yours. he pulls it off his cheek and he kisses your palm then your wrist.

"i'm sorry," he whispers.

"for what? paying hide n seek?" you laugh. he gets a light chuckle. he leans in to kiss you. You melt into his sweet lips. you cup his cheek as he crawls on top of you. he looks down at you. his snowy hair covers with beautiful blue eyes.

his thumb swipes over your bottom lip. you instinctively open your mouth and he slides it in. you suck on his thumb while keeping an innocent look. his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes.

"goddamn," he whispers. your hands move to his belt buckle. your fingers slowly undo the belt. he smiles down at you and pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. he pulls his belt off and loops your hands threw them. "this is for the little stunt you pulled," he growls into your ear.

you unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off. you eyes dart around his toned chested. he moves off of your lap and in between your thighs. his hands disappear under your skirt. you feel his fingers loop around your panties.

he drags them down your legs and shoved them into his pocket. he reaches up and opens your mouth. you stick out your tongue, a long string of spit drops onto you tongue.

"swallow," he watches. "open," you do so and he puts his middle and ring finger into your mouth. you swirl you tongue around them. "good girl," he whispers and pulls out his wet fingers.

his hand goes back up your skirt and you feel his fingers spread your folds apart. you bite your lip. his fingers drive into your warm hole. you squeeze your eyes shut. his free hand pushes your skirt up. he hold it up for you to hold. you take into your hand.

he watches his fingers get eaten up by your hungry pussy. his thumb rubs small circles in your sensitive clit. he bites his lip as you squirm under his touch. his eyes drifted away from your heat and up to your face. red and twisting in pleasure. his fingers speed up as he watches your mouth fall open in a silent scream.

"keep making those faces, baby," he coos as he curls his slender fingers graze the spongy walls of your pussy. the slick began pooling in his hand and, the noises his fingers made inside of you, made him harder each second.

you pressed your knees together to help the knot in your stomach not to snap. his large hand grabs your knee and pushes it open. "not on my watch," he chuckles as his fingers spread apart, to stretch you open. you moan out his name and you feel him tense you.

you repeated his name over and over and over again till the knot in your stomach snap. his fingers keep thrusting in you as you rode out your high. you grip onto his wrist to make him stop but he keeps going.

he pulls out his long fingers. you look at him through half lidded eyes as he sticks out his tongue and slides them into his mouth. he smiles and moans out. his eyes flutter close and he slides them out with a pop. "so good," he smiles. everything has to be a damn show with him.

you knee him in the side. his hand drags up you leg and squeeze your ass. he smirks as he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap. he looks up at you and kisses your chest. "so beautiful!" he coos. you glare down at him.

"do you ever shut up?" you look down at him. he's hands let go of your hips and they slip to his waistband. all you heard was unzipping and shuffling. his tip pressed against your sensitive pussy. you bite your lip. his hand grips your jaw.

"don't hold them in, darling, i want to hear how good i make you feel," he whispers.

his cock goes into your entrance and you eyes close shut as he pushes himself deeper. your head falls to his chest as you let out a breathy moan into his ear. his hands go to your hips and he rocks you back and forth. you let out cute little moans that make him go wild.

you start rolling your hips to let him lean back on one hand as your hands are tied and on his chest. your moans alone make his want to come. your pussy clenches around him in the best ways. he hits every part of you that send you over the edge. he lets out a small moan as you feel your second climax forming.

his hand travels up your back and grabs a fist of your hair. he pulls it back to look at your face while you come. "good girl, come on my dick," he watches as your face twists in pleasure and how your mouth falls open. your breath hitches with every trust from the man below you.

he moans out and comes in you. the lights of the room turn on. he stops what he's doing and his hand flies over your mouth.

"what is going on here!" someone yells at the door.

"extra credit!" gojo yells back.

"gross, get the fuck out of here," the man yells back, flicking off the lights.

gojo's head falls onto your shoulder. he starts laughing. "wanna take this back to my place?"

258 notes · View notes

blackspoon99 · 3 years

Text

The Sign of Three Pt. 3

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Drinking, Language, Potential Emetophobia (If you’ve seen this episode, you know), Spoilers to Season 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

“Of course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

Oh god, the stag night. You almost laughed just thinking about it. It was unbelievable that Sherlock was willingly telling this story to an audience. You were fortunate enough to witness some of the events of the night firsthand.

The story began the morning of in Baker Street, 11 am:

It was a Saturday morning, and you were over having tea with Sherlock. For the two of you, “having tea” consisted of you both reading in complete silence while you happened to be drinking tea. It was a common occurrence, and for you, it was a treasured tradition. You were curled up in John’s chair opposite Sherlock. Today, you were reading Emma by Jane Austen. You peeked over at Sherlock to see what he was reading. Sherlock was reading a book titled “Atlas of Forensic Pathology”. Riveting. The book looked so heavy; it would probably go straight through the floor if he dropped it.

You returned to your book. This was probably your third time reading the Jane Austen classic. You were inexplicably drawn to the plot, the message, the love story, all of it. You finally were at your favorite part. When Mr. Knightly said to Emma, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” You looked at Sherlock over the pages of your book. You couldn’t help but consider the relevance of the quote in your own life.

When you first came to terms with the fact that you were in love with Sherlock, the feeling had burned through you. You couldn’t focus and constantly fought the urge to tell him. Possibly because of the several near-death experiences you'd had. After you made up with Sherlock at the engagement party, the feeling persisted but it was almost duller, easier to live with. You’d slowly regained security in Sherlock’s role in your life and you no longer constantly worried he’d leave again. You returned to your version of mundane and your unrequited feelings for Sherlock became the new normal. It had become more of a consistent ache than a burn.

Sherlock interrupted your thoughts: “Shouldn’t it be relatively easy to find a new book to read if you work in a bookstore?”

“True, but I like this one,” you said without looking up from your book.

“Why? What do you gain from reading a convoluted story of questionable morals that provides no useful information?”

You finally put your book down. “Because, I like to read for fun. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Sherlock smiled and scoffed at you then returned to his book.

You shook your head and downed the rest of your tea. “Okay, I’ve got to go to work.” You got up and took your mug to the kitchen. On your way back to gather your things, you noticed an open file on the kitchen table that looked like a John Watson scrapbook. You pulled the first paper off the stack to see a cutout of John’s head pasted onto the Vitruvian Man. “Sherlock?” you called over your shoulder, “What’s this file for?”

“What file?” He asked.

You picked up the file and carried it back to the living room. You returned to your seat and started thumbing through it.

“Oh. That’s for the stag night,” said Sherlock.

“Stag night? I didn’t think you would want to do that sort of thing”

“Why not?” He swiftly closed his book. If you didn’t know better, you’d take the action as a sign of offense.

“Uh, no reason,” you said hastily. The file was full of peer-reviewed studies on alcohol consumption, detailed chemistry notes, and copies of John’s medical records. The last page was a detailed schedule of where they were going and how much they were going to drink every hour. “This is awfully thorough.”

“I needed to ensure the maximum amount of enjoyment for the both of us for the duration of the night.”

“How considerate of you.” You put the file down and leaned forward. “So, what do you have planned?”

“John and I will be drinking at a pub on every street we ever found a corpse.”

“That is oddly perfect for the both of you.”

“I thought so,” Sherlock said with a grin.

You looked at the time. If you didn’t leave now, you’d be late. “Well, I’m off. See you later, Sherlock.”

“Yes, yes, goodbye,” he mumbled and returned to reading. You left the file on the table, gathered your belongings, and left for your shift.

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

Later that evening:

You closed the bookshop at 8 pm and headed to the tube station. As you made your way through the crowded streets, you heard your phone ringing. You dug through your bag to find it as you walked. You saw Sherlock’s name on the caller ID and answered it. Your ears were immediately assaulted by electronic dance music.

You heard Sherlock’s voice first “Shut up John, I’m calling her.” He shouted over the music

“Who?” you then recognized John’s voice.

“Her John, I’m calling her!”

You struggled to hear the call over the booming music “Hello?? Sherlock? Why are you calling me?”

“Oh! It’s y/n! Hello!” John shouted into the phone. You winced at the volume.

“John? Where are you? Are you drunk?”

“Stag night! Sherlock tried to measure my piss. Then he got into a fight.”

“Give me that back” Sherlock’s voice “Y/n meet us back at Baker Street. It’s an ‘mergency”

“What did you say? Sherlock? It’s really hard to hear,”

“Baker Street. Now!” He shouted then hung up.

For a moment, you stood in the street, dumbfounded. It was only 8 pm and both Sherlock and John were piss drunk at some club. You couldn’t even begin to process the rest of the information. So much for Sherlock’s plan, although it did seem like they had “maximized their enjoyment”. You weren’t about to miss this.

——————————

You arrived at Baker Street by 8:30 pm. You opened the door to find Sherlock and John laying across the bottom of the stairs. “Hello boys, I’m here.” You announced.

At the sound of your voice, Sherlock and John scrambled to sit upright. Sherlock fell down a step in the process. You tried your best to suppress your laughter. “So, I’m here. What’s the emergency, Sherlock?”

“Right, you,” He said, raising his arm to point at you. “Upstairs.”

You watched Sherlock and John slowly stand up. John lifted one foot to climb the stairs, then stumbled backward.

“Do you need help, John?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said, “‘s alright, I’m fine. I can do it myself.”

You slowly helped Sherlock and John up and into the flat. Sherlock tried to take off his coat, but his arms got stuck behind him. You giggled and gently pulled his coat off him and hung it on the coat rack. You lead Sherlock over to his chair and he flopped down into it.

You went into the kitchen to get some water for him and John. You figured they’d need it. You searched the cabinets, but there wasn’t a clean glass in sight. You resorted to the clean beakers on the countertops instead. You poured two 250mL beakers most of the way with water and walked them back into the living room. When you returned, Sherlock was sitting in his chair. He was drinking from a glass of scotch.

“Sherlock,” you groaned. “Where did you get that?” You attempted to reach for the glass, but he pulled his hand away, spilling it all over himself.

“It’s okay, this is fine,” he said, staring at his scotch-soaked shirt. “Oh,” he started. “I almost forgot,” Sherlock leaned over the side of his chair to grab something off the floor “You left this,” Sherlock said and handed you your copy of Emma. You hadn’t even realized it was gone.

“That was the emergency?”

“I still don’t understand how you could read this 3 times,” Sherlock slurred. “It’s so- what’s the word? Incorrect? ‘There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.’ What an absurd thing to say” He contorted his face into an expression of disgust and took a sip of scotch from the glass in his hand.

“You read it? Today?” The fact that Sherlock had gone out of his way to read your favorite book made you unnaturally happy. You knew not to read into the things with Sherlock, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself.

“You left it behind and I was so bored. Besides, I had to understand why you liked it so much. I still don’t know.”

You leaned over and snatched the glass of scotch from him. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, do you?” You handed him the beaker of water.

“Thank you,” he said with a goofy grin. In all the years you’d known Sherlock, you had never seen him like this. It was odd to say the least yet decidedly hilarious.

“Where’s John?”

Sherlock didn’t answer but pointed in the general direction of the bathroom. You decided to take the seat opposite Sherlock. As you sat down, Sherlock put his water on the floor. He then leaned forward and put his head in his hands, staring at you.

“What are you doing, Sherlock?” you asked.

“You,” he said, pointing at your face “are so hard to figure out sometimes, you know that?”

“Me?”

“It’s soooooo annoying. I can tell what almost everyone is thinking all the time, but not always you.”

“You think I’m hard to read?”

“Yes, you. Y/n L/n.” He waved his hands around while he slightly slurred his words.

“Okay then, how about this: I tell you what I’m thinking right now, and you do the same. Then, for one moment, we can understand each other completely.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow “You first.”

“I’m thinking… that I’m glad you called me.” Sherlock smiled and nodded. You giggled, “Now it’s your turn, and don’t lie to me. What are you thinking in this moment?”

Sherlock paused. “I’m thinking that my shirt’s all wet,” he said with a slight frown.

“That’s your own fault,” you said, putting one hand over your mouth to contain your laughter.

John re-entered the room holding post-it notes and a sharpie. “I’ve just had the best idea,” he said with a sloppy grin.

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

The three of you all had post-its stuck to your foreheads, each with names written down. John sat in the client’s seat with the name MADONNA scribbled on the piece of paper stuck to his forehead. Sherlock, much to your enjoyment, had SHERLOCK HOLMES sloppily written on his forehead. As per the game, you had no idea what was written on yours. Sherlock was lounging back in his chair, resting his head on his hand.

“Am I a vegetable?” asked John

“You? Or the thing?” Sherlock asked smiling. The two of them snickered.

“Funny!” said John.

Sherlock looked down and smiled. “Thank you,” he choked out.

“To answer your question, John, no,” you said.

“Your go, Sherlock,” said John.

“Erm…. am I human?” he asked, turning to you.

“Sometimes,” you said with a smirk.

“No, no, it can’t be sometimes, can’t have that…”

“Fine. Yes, you’re human” you confirmed. “My turn. Am I a man?”

“Yeeep” answered John. “Sherlock, you again,” John said, forgetting it was his turn.

“Am I a man?”

John nodded. Sherlock kept going. “Am I a tall man?”

John looked at you and started laughing before he even spoke “Mm, not as tall as people think.” John’s head flopped to the side as he let out a hiccup

“Nice?”

“Ishh,” John said skeptically.

“Clever?”

“I’d say so,” you interjected.

“Do people…” he made air quotes as he spoke the word ‘people’ “... like me?”

“Not really,” you said, chuckling “You tend to rub them the wrong way.” If you had to babysit your adult drunk friends, you might as well have some fun.

“Hm,” Sherlock nodded intently. “Am I the current King of England?”

You and John immediately burst into laughter. “Good guess, Sherlock. But you do know England doesn’t have a king?”

“Don’t we?”

“No,” John said. “Y/n, you go now”

“Right, okay. Am I a friend of ours?”

“Ehh, yes?” Sherlock said.

“Yes, yes they are Sherlock,” said John “Jesus.”

“Well, that narrows it down significantly. Am I Greg?”

“Who’s Greg?” Sherlock asked.

You rolled your eyes and took the post-it off your forehead. The name “Gavin” was written on it in Sherlock’s handwriting. Of course.

“Hey!” Sherlock yelled, “Cheater, that’s cheating. John, did you see that? Y/n’s cheating.” Sherlock got up and took the post-it from your hand. He leaned forward and stuck it back on your forehead. “There. Now it’s John’s turn.”

“Am I a woman?” asked John. He slumped in his seat. Sherlock immediately started giggling. “What?” John asked.

“Yes,” confirmed Sherlock

“Am I a pretty woman?”

“Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences, and role models.”

“But am I pretty?” John asked again.

“Yeah, Sherlock? Is John a pretty woman?”

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who you’re supposed to be.”

“What?! You picked the name,” John said.

“Ah, but I picked it at random from the papers,” Sherlock said, flailing his arm over to the stack of newspapers in the corner.

“I don’t think you understand the point of this game, Sherlock,” you added.

“So, I am human, I’m not as tall as people think I am ... I’m-I’m nice-ish ... clever, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way.”

“That’s correct,” said John.

“I’m you, aren’t I?” Sherlock asked, pointing to John.

“Ooh-ooh!” Mrs. Hudson chirped as she knocked on the door. “Client!” Behind Mrs. Hudson was a woman wearing a nurse’s outfit with a cardigan over it. You scrambled to take the post-it off your forehead as you stood up.

“Hello, I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time—”

Sherlock immediately stood up and interrupted you. “It’s not a bad time, no, no Y/n. We always help a person in need.”

“Do we?” you said with a forced smile and looked over at John for help. John just stared back blankly at you with a goofy drunken smile.

The woman beamed “Thank you,” she said. “Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?”

John imitated a slide whistle, and pointed to Sherlock’s post-it on his forehead. Sherlock flashed a wide toothy grin. You put your head in your hands in defeat.

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

A few moments later, you’d made the woman, Tessa, some tea, and you John and Sherlock were sitting on the couch. Sherlock was sat in between you and John. Tessa sat in a chair opposite the three of you.

“I don’t ... a lot ... I mean, I don’t ... date all that much ... and ... he seemed ... nice, you know?”

You looked over at Sherlock and John hoping they could keep it together. John was blinking slowly and heavily while trying to stay awake. Sherlock was listening to Tessa’s story intently.

She continued. “We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night – dinner, such interesting conversation. It was ... lovely. To be honest, I’d love to have gone further ...”

Beside you, Sherlock closed his eyes and began to lean into your shoulder, dozing off. You subtly elbowed him, and he straightened up abruptly.

“But I thought, no, this is special. Let’s take it slowly, exchange numbers. He said he’d get in touch and then ... Maybe he wasn’t quite as keen as I was ...”

You looked over at John who was practically asleep with his eyes open. He had a blank stare and his mouth hung slightly open.

“But I – I just thought ... at least he’d call to say that we were finished,” Tessa concluded, tearing up slightly and looking at the floor. Immediately, Sherlock’s face contorted into an expression of sympathy as he dramatically brought his hand to his mouth. You stared in disbelief and handed Tessa a tissue. “Thank you,” she said to you. “I went round there, to his flat. No trace of him. Mr. Holmes…”

Sherlock leaned forward and rested his head on his hands.

“I honestly think I had dinner ... with a ghost.”

You and Tessa waited to hear what Sherlock had to say. You leaned forward to look at Sherlock and John’s faces only to discover they had both fallen asleep.

“With a ghost, Mr. Holmes!” Tessa repeated, louder.

You sharply elbowed Sherlock in the ribs much harder than before, and he sprung awake. “Boring, boring, boring,” he mumbled, then turned to you and put his hands on either side of your head. “No! fascinating!” He exclaimed, his face right up close to yours. Sherlock then turned to John “John – John! Wake up!” John finally stirred awake.

“I’m up,” he mumbled.

“Apologies about my ... you know ... thing,” Sherlock said, pointing at John. “Rude. Rude!” he yelled straight into your ear. You grimaced at the loud noise and put your hand on Sherlock’s forearm to settle him.

“Yes, that’s enough, Sherlock,” you whispered. “Uhm, go on, Tessa.”

“I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died. Heart attack. And there we are, having dinner one week on.” She turned and began to rummage through her purse. She pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and handed it to Sherlock. You grabbed it before he could take it. It was a print-out of an online chatroom. “And I found this thing online, sort of chatroom thing for girls who think they’re dating men from the spirit world.”

You nodded. This actually seemed like a decent case. Too bad Sherlock and John probably wouldn’t remember one word of it tomorrow. Sherlock tried to stand up next to you, wobbled, and then put one hand on the top of your head to steady himself. You groaned and struggled to untangle his hand from your hair.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him in ten minutes,” Sherlock said confidently. Tessa smiled in relief. “What’s your dog’s name?”

You facepalmed and stood up next to Sherlock. He leaned over to wake up John. “John! Wake up! We’re meant to ... The game’s ... something” he said, waving his hand around.

“On!” yelled John.

“Yes, that,” Sherlock said, walking out the door. “Come on, Y/n.”

“Wait, Sherlock. Where are you going?” You protested, following him down the stairs.

“That’s a good question. Where are we going?” he asked Tessa in the foyer.

“Oh! Well, I suppose we ought to go to his flat,” Tessa said.

“Sherlock, no,” you said, “You can’t leave...” you looked off the the side awkwardly “…like this.” He ignored you and dragged John out to the sidewalk by his sweater sleeve. He stepped out into the street and hailed down a cab.

“40a, Jasmine Grove,” interjected Tessa as the cab pulled up.

“Are you coming Y/n?” Sherlock slurred.

“No!” you yelled. “And neither are you.” Before you could reach him, Sherlock climbed into the cab after John and Tessa and slammed the cab door in your face. The car drove off.

“Come on, really?!” you yelled in frustration. Now you had to follow them. You ran to the edge of the sidewalk and decided to call a cab for yourself.

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

You finally made it to the apartment to see Tessa and a man you presumed to be the landlord standing by the door. It was a rather modern apartment with exposed brick and abstract furniture. John was standing in the corner with his hands crossed over his chest and his lips pursed. He was swaying slightly, trying to keep his balance. You pushed past the landlord to see Sherlock kneeling on a shag carpet holding his pocket magnifier. As soon as you walked in, he face-planted into the carpet and passed out.

“He’s clueing for looks” John announced, proudly.

“Oh god,” you said, scrambling over to Sherlock. You grabbed his upper arm and tried to pull him up. God, he was heavy.

“That’s it, I’m calling the police.” The landlord pulled out his cell phone.

“No, no, please, that won’t be necessary,” you protested.

“This is a famous detective. It’s Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson,” Tessa clarified.

You finally managed to get Sherlock to straighten up. “When did you get here?” Sherlock asked, looking up at you. Then, he bent over and immediately threw up on the carpet.

“Ugh why?” you groaned and plugged your nose. Sherlock wiped his mouth on his sleeve and then clicked his magnifier shut.

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

The next morning…

The landlord had called the police and the night ended with you watching Sherlock and John being driven away in the back of a police car. You’d immediately called Greg hoping he’d let them go. Greg had said the best he could do was try and let them off with a warning if they spent the night in the drunk tank. When the station opened, Greg sent you a photo of Sherlock and John asleep in a cell with the caption “Come and get ‘em!”

You walked into Scotland Yard and Greg was there to meet you. “Thank you, Greg,” you said, handing him one of the 4 coffees you’d brought.

“God, what on earth happened to them?” Greg asked, taking a sip from the coffee you gave him.

“Stag night got a bit out of hand,” you said. “Afraid I lost control of the situation.”

“You can say that again,” agreed Greg as the two of you walked through the station to the drunk tank.

“Rise and Shine!” Greg bellowed as he swung open the door. John was awake and sitting on the floor. He had his hands on his head while Sherlock was still fast asleep on the bench.

“Oh my god,” John said, grimacing in pain. “Is that Greg?”

“Get up,” he said “Y/n’s come to collect you. Managed to square things with the desk sergeant.” John painfully and slowly got up. “What a couple of lightweights! Y/n said you couldn’t even make it to closing time!”

“Yeah, could you whisper?” John asked.

“NOT REALLY!” Greg shouted straight into his ear. Across the cell, Sherlock jolted awake, mouth wide open in shock. He tried to stand up, then fell backward back onto the bench. You walked over and helped him up.

“There you go, Sherlock. Nice and easy,” you said quietly and handed him one of the coffees. He took it and stumbled out of the cell, head down. He looked like hell, not to mention the way he smelled. You caught up to John and handed him one of the remaining coffees, leaving the last for yourself. You took a sip of your coffee and continued down the hall.

“Well, thanks for a ... you know ... an evening,” John said to Sherlock.

“Oh, it was awful,” Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly,” said John. He then turned to you. “Y/n, I am so sorry, that was—”

“It’s okay, I had fun,” you said with a smile.

“At least someone did,” said Sherlock. “That woman, Tessa, dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity.”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?” you asked. He shrugged. “Come on, boys, let’s get you home.”

A/N: Stag night! I love this part of the episode, so I hope I did it justice. Funny story. When I was writing this, I was trying to find real book titles for Sherlock to read and I came across a real book titled “Surrounded by Idiots” I wanted to use it in the story SO BAD but it was so perfect, that it sounded cheesy and made up lmao. I’m 100% certain Sherlock would have it in his bookcase though.

Taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @scorpios-echos @sad-bitch-h0ur @drifting-away-in-space @that-thing-in-the-graveyard

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlockxreader #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes x you #the sign of three

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shokobuns · 3 years

Text

something sweet

maybe having someone to help you out in the stockroom wasn't so bad after all.

PAIRING: itadori yuuji x reader

GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: almost stabbed, mentions of sharp things (boxcutters and broken glass), making out

it’s not like you had a problem with the same menial tasks everyday.

in fact, you would even say that it was a fun way to spend your free period. it was better than doing some complicated assignment or even having to talk to people with your lack of sleep and patience. coffee never allowed for a proper nap no matter how exhausted you were and your teacher wouldn’t allow that anyways.

it was an easy job that you could do with minimal help. all you had to do was put the beakers away, clean up the floor once in awhile, maybe pop some bubble wrap when new packages arrived. being alone in the stockroom was nice because you were able to turn on some music on your headphones, do whatever dances you felt like doing as long as you were still doing your job. no help was needed or wanted.

“where should i put this?”

you jump, nearly stabbing the blonde haired boy behind you with a boxcutter. luckily, he was quick, jumping backwards with a yelp as you took a deep breath in to process the situation. you didn’t accidentally hurt the boy in front of you, did you? your face falls and the initial rush of fear turns into guilt. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know you were there!”

“it’s okay,’ he responds with a smile, unphased by the fact his shirt had almost been slashed, ‘i understand. you’re probably here alone most of the time, right?”

“yeah, i wasn’t expecting for anyone else to be here,” you sigh before realizing what he had probably walked in on before the whole ordeal, “wait.. did you see me doing anything?”

“you’re a pretty good dancer if that’s what you’re asking.”

embarrassment. your cheeks feel unbelievably hot and your stomach turns while embarrassment settles in your body. this period was your alone time, your chance to flail about and having someone else witness it? definitely not preferable. although, he does seem nice and he hasn’t made fun of you. not yet, at least.

his voice brings you out of your train of thought. “so, where should i put that thing?”

he carries on as if nothing happened. thank god. “the flask goes in that cabinet, bottom shelf. you’ll see more just like it.” you reply, pointing to the space.

he mumbles a quick thank you before doing unloading more of the new flasks onto the cabinet. you work on your own, choosing to count the new magnets on the other side of the room, doing your best to avoid him considering you just embarrassed yourself in front of the stranger by nearly injuring him for asking a simple question. though, he looks slightly familiar, he’ll probably be gone tomorrow and that’s all that matters.

behind you, yuji takes small glances while he puts away the flasks, waiting for you to turn around and ask for his name. hell, he’s waiting for any type of question. after all, who sees a random boy in their work space and doesn’t question it at all?

when the next day comes, you’re proven wrong because he sits in the chair, awaiting another order from you. you curse under your breath before putting on a faux smile. “do you need help with anything?”

“do you need help with anything?”

“no, thanks. i’m good on my own. you can go back to whatever you do in this period.”

he scratches his head, eyebrows furrowing together. “i thought you needed help. that’s what my math teacher told me when he sent me here.”

“not really? i can usually get a lot done on my own. who told you i needed help?”

“gojo. i’m his teacher assistant, but i don’t know how to do the math he’s teaching, so i can’t really help anyone.” he explains

“oh, yeah! i had him for calculus last semester,” your eyes light up at the mention of your favorite white haired mentor, “weird guy. good teacher.”

wait. gojo’s teacher assistant?

you’ve heard your friends talk about him, given that they were in that exact class the blonde haired boy was supposed to be in right now. the one guy that pe teachers fawn over and coaches try to recruit? why did they put him in the math department instead of pe? what’s his name again? yuki? yugi?

“you’re yuji itadori?”

“yuji itadori.” he confirms and you’re relieved. good thing you didn’t mess up his name.

no wonder he looked familiar. miwa was fascinated by his physical ability, you distinctly remember her pointing him out during lunch and telling you about how he was ‘scarily fast’ and could probably ‘lift ten of her at a time.’ although, it was from far away and he was partially blocked by a girl with short brown hair and megumi, the intimidating spikey haired quiet boy in some of your classes.

but yuji didn’t look like someone who could lift ten miwas up close. maybe he was hiding behind the oversized hoodie he wore, but he was a kind looking boy with wide eyes and messy tufts of strawberry blonde hair. throughout the short time you’ve seen him up close, he always had a slight smile on his resting face. in short, he looked approachable and was seemingly friendly.

“so, do you need help with anything?” he asks again and you decide that maybe he can be of use to you. especially if he has the strength that miwa had described.

“actually, yeah. can you lift those boxes over there and bring them to the other side of the room? they’re kind of heavy-”

she was correct because he lifts the box, which is supposedly about thirty kilograms according to your teacher, with ease. now, you don’t have to constantly go back and forth around the room just to put the packaged metal away in a farther cabinet and he can probably just put them away himself, too. it goes that way for the next hour and a half, both of you staying in your respective sides of the room, putting away your own respective items.

“thanks, itadori.”

“call me yuji.”

“will do.”

over the next two weeks, you two don’t talk as much as yuji had hoped.

he still remembers gojo’s words of encouragement, his push to get his favorite student to talk to the person who drops off notes to the teacher across the hallway from time to time. he’s never talked to you and he doubts you would even know that he existed in the first place. in fact, he was perfectly content with just stapling the papers that gojo would give him, maybe getting his own homework done in the period, but he was insistent.

“i’ve seen you staring outside the window whenever they pass by, yuji. just talk to them.”

“it’s okay.’

“no it’s not. get to know her. what if they’re nice? hmmmmm?”

“i’ll talk to her myself at some point.”

that was all it took for gojo to leave him alone, not that he didn’t like gojo or anything, especially with gojo being his second favorite teacher in the first place, but he’s content with his little crush. and again, he doubted that you would remember him in your history class and from the looks of it, he was right.

he just didn’t expect to be sent at the very stockroom that you would be in. for the rest of the semester. gojo had definitely set him up for something.

yuji was in that conflicting position in which he didn’t know whether to start a conversation or not because he didn’t want to bother you. but he also wanted to get to know you up close. of course he can sense your exhaustion himself through droopy eyelids that threaten to close and your dependence on caffeine, something he had learned about you so far in these few weeks. the only thing, it seems like.

as for you, a short talk with your science teacher confirmed that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon and though you will miss dancing around the stockroom by yourself, he wasn’t bad company. he mostly kept to himself, often being more rigid when you barely spared him a glance. at the times you would speak to him, he seemed more excitable and easygoing, listening to every word you say.

“yuji?”

“hmm?”

“come help me by unboxing these beakers, alright?” you patted the spot next to you before sliding the blade down the tape, “don’t worry. i’m not gonna stab you.”

“i guess i’ll help,” he snorts, “don’t you usually do these by yourself?”

“yeah, but since you’re spending the semester with me in here, we might as well get to know each other right?”

the whirring of the fan, the sound of your voice — it all seemed to fade into the background as his heart thumped hard in his chest. a million thoughts, both good and bad, race through his head as he formulated different questions, answers, and scenarios in his mind, all of them being a jumble of fantasy and panic.

you wave a hand in front of his face in an attempt to catch his attention. he seemed completely frozen, staring at you with dead eyes and it’s now that you realize you haven’t seen him up this close. honey brown eyes, the soft curve of his nose, and were those crinkles under his eyes, too? up until now, you only knew him as the ‘athletic man who was bad at math’, but he was also undeniably beautiful with his carved face and strawberry blonde hair.

“yuuuuuuuji?”

“oh! i’m sorry! did you say you wanted to get to know me?”

“yeah, we’re kind of stuck in this room everyday for an hour and a half together. i might as well find out what your favorite color is or something.”

“red! my turn! what were you listening to when you almost stabbed me?”

“hey! it was an accident!” he giggles, slicing the tape seal down the middle and opening up the package and pointing right at it. “you see that? that could have been me. i should at least know what i’m being stabbed to.”

“meg thee stallion..”

“nevermind. she’s beautiful and i wouldn’t mind dying to her music.”

you snort, thinking up another question. maybe you should ask him about why that megumi guy was so gloomy? nope, might get too personal. what about the reason he’s here? nope, you already know.

“why don’t you do any sports even though you’re literally physically gifted?” you ask curiously. there’s still a smile on his face, but his expression becomes more wistful. you didn’t accidentally hit a spot, did you?

“my grandpa is in the hospital,” oh shit, you think, “i visit him everyday and if i was on a team, i would have to go to practice at the same time.”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hit a sensitive topic, but that’s sweet of you.’

“i don’t mind. and i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“no, it’s alright. let’s just keep asking questions then, okay?”

he nods.

in one hour, you learn that yuji itadori also likes karaoke, rice bowls, and that he’s just as bad at science than math. ironic. and yuji enjoys getting to know more about you, falling into easy conversation, becoming less of a nervous wreck. the more you speak, the deeper he falls into the trance and he silently thanks gojo for letting him get a closer look because you’re even better than what he could have imagined.

but the period is coming to an end and it’s time for him to carry off the last box of beakers to his side of the room. at least there’s time for another question and it’s his turn to ask.

“what’s your type?”

you place your fingers on your chin as you think for a moment, finding a common trait in every crush for a proper answer.

“i guess my type would be sweet boys. with pretty faces, like you, i guess.”

the response is nonchalant and you don’t think twice about it. maybe you were a little too tired to process how he’d interpret it or maybe a little too tired to filter yourself, but it slips out of your mouth like butter and you’re completely unphased. shameless, even.

meanwhile, the box drops to the ground and like before, every other noise besides his own heartbeat fades into the background, even the sound of shattering glass. heat creeps of his neck into his cheeks until his face is burning, his feet stuck in their place and his palms becoming uncomfortably sweaty. his mouth is wide open, but no words come out.

“yuji! we need to clean this, hurry up!”

your voice brings him out of his thoughts as he realizes what’s been done and immediately snaps back to carefully, but quickly, picking up the shards of glass and placing them in this box. “i-i’m sorry!”

“don’t worry. just leave the box on the counter and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

maybe you didn’t quite realize what you had said or what effect you had on him during that time in the stockroom because you continue everyday as if nothing happened.

it’s been, what? a little over a three weeks? and sitting next to you still causes his mind to go to odd places, ones with you. he starts to notice little things about you, too. how your tongue peaks out of your mouth when you’re peeling another sheet of bubble wrap off of some glassware, how you only count in even numbers when you take inventory of the containers.

god, you were adorable.

“yuji?”

“yeah?”

“did gojo ever tell you that there’s no cameras in here?”

“no? i thought they had security cameras everywhere.”

“that’s only hallways and classrooms. there’s none of them here. do you know what that means?”

“what?”

his head is already turned in your direction, the perfect opportunity to lean in and catch his lips. it’s small and he’s hesitant at first, but before you know it, your hands tangle in his hair, bringing him closer to you. he tastes like something sweet, like cherries, and his lips are warm. one hand rests on your cheek, his thumb brushing against it endearingly. when he pulls away, both of you are panting for air, the packages long forgotten.

“this sounds bad, but i’m glad that you’re terrible at math.”

“thanks.” he laughs and admires the look of your heated cheeks and swollen lips before pulling you back in for another searing kiss.

sure. being in that room by yourself could be fun, a perfect break with menial tasks lacking human interaction. you were far too tired to be patient with other people. but there was an exception.

#itadori yuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori fluff #itadori yuji fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #🌟 — works!#🌟 — fluff!#🌟 — itadori yuuji!#🌸 — blossom #🌷 — sfw

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itstheoneshot · 3 years

Text

PHD

Request

Summary: Your one on one sessions with your professor always tend to get a little… steamy.

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Onew x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation.

————————————————————————

You sigh, frustrated and tired as yet again your experiment did not turn out the way that you had hypothesised. The deadline for your PHD thesis is fast approaching, and you feel as if you have spent more time in the lab with your professor than you have doing anything else for the last few months.

Your professor is standing beside you, and sensing your upset, he places a hand on your shoulder to reassure you that it is okay.

“Lovely girl, it’s okay. Are you okay?” He asks you in a soft tone.

Your bottom lip quivers at this, you are exhausted by repeating the same experiment with the tiniest tweaks and still not getting the results that you want.

“I can’t do this, Jinki-nim.” You sigh, “I’m not going to get this finished in time, I can’t think straight anymore.”

As you had hoped, and as he always does, whenever you get like this, Jinki takes a hand to your cheek, turning your head to face him.

Your relationship has been more than just teacher-student for a while now, and you remember the first day that he kissed you as if it were yesterday. Now, whenever you are upset, Jinki knows exactly how to fix that, and today will be no different, you are sure.

“Sit up here, sweetheart.” He urges you, moving to hold your waist and get you up onto the lab table.

He steps away from you for a moment, to move your equipment out of reach before returning to stand in between your spread legs. He leans in to kiss you sweetly, moaning a little as you so easily melt into his embrace.

“We can’t have you upset, can we, doll?” He coos, licking along your bottom lip to ask for permission to taste you.

“N-no, Jinki-nim. I can’t do my work if I am upset.” You respond, playing up your emotions a little, knowing that he loves to baby you.

Jinki kisses across your jawline up to your ear, as his hands roam from your waist to caress your thighs, fuck, he loves your thighs, touching them at every given opportunity.

“I’ll help you,” He starts, “That’s what I am here for, after all.”

You nod, before exerting a pathetic whine, “Yes, please help me.”

His hands travel further up your thighs, finding your centre to tease you through the fabric of your jeans. Your lab coat is undone, falling off your shoulders, and as Jinki kisses you with a little bit more force, it causes the coat to come off completely.

“I’m gonna make you feel better, okay, lovely girl?” He asks, finding the button of your jeans to undo with his thumb and forefinger.

You know how well those fingers work, as they brush against your skin when he slips his hand inside your now undone pants. They are warm, and you are wet, as he sighs in want, feeling how much he turns you on drives him crazy.

“Oh shit, you really need this, don’t you? You’re sucking me in, doll.” Jinki groans as he inserts a second finger.

“Ah— fuck yes, fuck yes, Jinki.” You whine, as he rubs circles on your clit, fingers working fast to bring you to peak.

Jinki kisses up your neck, grinding into you as he finger-fucks, and in your desperate state, feeling his huge, hard cock, you bring him closer, undoing his own pants to free his erection. You wrap both of your hands around it to begin stroking him, and the pleasure it gives him only causes him to work harder.

“God, you’re fucking massive, Jinki.” You praise, knowing that he loves to hear it.

“Mhmm,” He hums, “All the better to fill my favourite student though, right?”

You almost lose it right then, as you are reminded of how good it feels to take his cock. Though as you glance at the clock behind you, you see how late it is in the day, and Jinki chuckles, reading your mind.

“I’ll drive you home, after this. Maybe you can come in, and we can continue.” He offers, as he begins to curl his fingers with each thrust.

You continue stroking his cock, feeling yourself begin to come undone, you rest your head on his shoulder as you grind yourself into his hand. Your breathing is laboured as you lose control, moaning Jinki’s name as you cum on his fingers.

“Oh shit, sweetheart I’m gonna cum, too.” He moans, as he takes his fingers out of you and sticks them into his mouth to lick them clean.

You know that he does not like to make a mess of the laboratory, so you do what you need, what you have been craving to do, and drop down to the floor to take his cock into your mouth. You can barely get your mouth around it, but you manage, and with a mix of hand movements and your tongue swirling around the tip, Jinki releases, sending spurts of cum down your throat.

You swallow every last drop, as the sounds that Jinki makes are like music to your ears, you suck him dry before pulling off, and gazing up at him above you.

“So good to me, sweet girl.” Jinki says, reaching out for your hands to pull you back up to standing, “Are you feeling better?”

You sigh, leaning up on your toes to kiss him sweetly, “I am, thank you, Jinki-nim.”

Jinki smiles at you, as he zips his pants back up, and steps back out of the way so that you can fix yourself up, too.

“Are you ready to try your experiment again now?” He asks, as if nothing had even happened between you.

“Of course, Jinki-nim.” You smile in response.

Jinki buttons your lab coat for you, helping straighten it out before he assists in rearranging your experiment for you, beakers and burners at the ready, before he steps back to let you try again.

With his hand on your shoulder, and your now relaxed mind and body, you try again, tweaking one chemical by only the smallest amount, and your work finally pays off.

“I told you that you could get there! Congratulations, lovely girl.” He praises you.

You are over the moon, so proud of yourself for working as hard as you have. You scrawl down your results and the measurements that you used, so that you can try to do this again tomorrow, as it is so late in the day, and you could not bear to have to restart once more.

“So much thanks to you, Jinki-nim.” You reply, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

Jinki reaches across to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and you blush, despite how common your closeness is.

“We should celebrate,” Jinki offers, “How does drinks at my place sound?”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to spend time with Jinki outside the lab, knowing that you will end up staying the night, like you always do, riding his cock until the sun comes up.

“I’d love to.” You reply.

Jinki holds out a hand for you to take, and the two of you leave the lab together.

#jinki #Lee Jinki #onew #Shinee #jinki smut #Jinki fanfic #Lee Jinki smut #Lee Jinki fanfic #onew smut #onew fanfic #Shinee smut #Shinee fanfic #kPop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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q-gorgeous · 3 years

Text

Magical Girl Ghost

fanfiction

ao3

Paulina and Dash were the ones who dared Danny to wander into the ghost portal with the end goal of embarrassing him in some way for doing or not doing it. Now the only people who know Danny's secret are his bully and a girl who can't stand him. What happens now? Prompt by @ectopal

word count: 2603

i dont know how to name fics leave me alone

“Come on, guys, we’re not even supposed to be down here. You guys are only here because we have to work on a group project together. Get out of the lab.”

“What, are you scared?” Paulina cooed meanly.

“No. It’s just dangerous down there.” Danny glared at Paulina and Dash as they looked up at him from the bottom of the steps.

Dash laughed. “Come on, how dangerous can it be? You’re parents aren’t even real scientists, what they study doesn’t even exist.”

Paulina smirked when Danny fumed and started stomping down the steps. “They are real scientists. This isn’t the only thing they do.”

“Oh yeah?” Paulina says, turning into the lab and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “What do they do then?”

“Lot’s of things.” Danny walked up behind her. “Recently they helped some company come up with some clean energy machine, they did some secret invention stuff with the FBI so I don’t know exactly what that was, but they also-”

“What’s that one?” Dash interrupted.

He was pointing at a big hole in the wall that was lined with metal. Off to the side were knobs and buttons but it looked like whatever it was was off.

“That’s, uh… The ghost portal.”

Paulina burst out laughing. “Really? They built a portal.. Trying to get to the ghost dimension?” She brushed a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure they are real scientists?”

“Yes!” Danny threw his hands up in the air. “They have hundreds of patents for their inventions and everything!”

Paulina put her hands on her hips. “That’s an inventor or engineer. You don’t necessarily have to be a scientist to be one of those.”

He growled. “Well they’re still scientists anyways.”

“Whatever you say.” Paulina looked away from him and started walking towards the portal. She had just stuck her head inside when she was pulled backwards.

“Don’t go in there!”

Paulina squirmed around and once she was far enough away from the portal again Danny let go of her.

“Don’t touch me, you freak!”

“Yeah!” Dash said, getting in Danny’s face. “If you touch her again you’ll have to deal with this.” He held up his fist next to Danny’s face.

“I have to deal with that anyways.” Paulina brushed herself off, a disgusted look on her face, and turned back towards the portal. “What does it matter if I go in or not? It doesn’t look like it’s on. And ghosts aren’t even real.”

She looked back at Danny to see an uncomfortable look on his face.

“You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

His eyebrows shot up. “No!”

“Then why don’t you take a look inside?” Dash pushed him towards it.

“No!” Danny turned to face him. “My parents said-”

“Your parents, your parents, blah blah blah.” Paulina mocked. “They’re not even here right now and it’s not even on. What does it matter?”

“What does it-” Danny stopped and shot a hard glare at her. “You know what? Fine! I’ll go in.”

Danny turned around and walked toward a big metal cabinet that stood on the other side of the room next to a table filled with beakers and notes.

“Uh, that’s the wrong way Fenton.” Dash said.

Danny opened the cabinet and rummaged around until he found something. He closed the doors back up and scowled at something in his hands. He peeled something off of the fabric he was holding and his dad's face fell to the floor.

“I’m just grabbing my jumpsuit. If I’m gonna be breaking all of my parent’s rules I might as well do it safely.” He unfolded it and began stepping into it and finally pulled up the zipper.

Paulina laughed. “Your whole family has matching outfits? That’s embarrassing.”

Danny shrugged. “I like to pretend it’s a space suit or something. Anything’s better than a ghost hunting outfit.”

He walked up to the portal, looking around the inside a little bit. “You know, I’ve always wondered what could be on the other side of this portal if it ever actually worked.

“Yeah, okay, just go in.” Paulina waved her hands at him.

Sighing, Danny walked forward and into the portal. It felt much bigger than it looked from the outside and his footsteps echoed in the small space. He was looking at the ceiling when he tripped and caught himself on the wall. Looking down he saw a giant cable running across the floor.

“Why would they-”

The humming surrounding him startled Danny and as he lifted his hand, a on and off switch could be seen underneath it.

Panic started rising inside of Paulina. “Dash it’s turning on!”

He scoffed. “It’ll probably just blow up or something.”

“Danny’s still inside, you nitwit!”

His eyes widened and Paulina started running towards the portal. It began glowing a sickening, radioactive green. It was getting brighter and brighter and Paulina met Danny’s wide and panicked eyes before she was dragged away and to the side, a shout getting caught in her throat as she watched the portal flash with electricity.

“Danny!” She slapped at Dash’s arms that were still wrapped around her waist. “What are you doing! I almost got to him!”

Dash pulled her further away from the portal, keeping a tight grip on her. “And watch both of you get burnt to a crisp? No way. Now let’s get out of here before the Fenton’s find us.”

“Dash-”

An echoey groan caught their attention and they looked back at the portal. A glowing figure stepped out shakily, holding its head. It looked up at them and opened its mouth like it was going to talk to them, but its eyes rolled back into its head before it fell onto the ground.

“What is that?” Paulina screeched.

Just as Dash started trying to drag Paulina up the stairs, a bright flash, this one white, lit up the room. Two white rings appeared around the form's body and traveled up and down to leave Danny Fenton laying on the floor.

“What the fuck?” Dash whispered, his grip on Paulina finally loosening.

Paulina broke free and ran across the lab and slid on her knees towards Danny.

“Are you dead?” Her hands hovered over his burnt jumpsuit. “Please don’t be dead.”

He groaned and his body rose and fell with his breaths.

“Oh thank god.”

Dash walked up behind her, staring at Danny over her shoulder. “How the fuck is he still alive? That should’ve incinerated him.”

“I don’t know. I think something happened to him.”

“Well no shit!” Dash whisper yelled. “What are we supposed to do?”

Paulina looked at Danny on the hard tiled floor. “First we’re gonna get him up to his room. That can’t be comfortable like that.”

“You want me to touch him?” Dash shook out his hands at just the thought.

Paulina pointed at him. “You’ll have an easier time getting him up all the stairs on the way to his room. Besides, we’re just gonna leave him down here for his parents to find him? And tell them how we dared him to do this?”

Dash paled. “Oh man, they would kill us. I bet they’d literally kill us.”

Paulina shook her head. “Just grab him already.”

He picked Danny up gingerly with a disgusted look on his face. He adjusted the other boy to fit easily in his arms and turned to the stairs and started walking up to the kitchen. Paulina followed closely behind him and they were halfway up the stairs when the doorknob on the front door started jiggling.

“Go! Go!” Paulina ushered Dash up the stairs and she turned to see Jazz walk in the door and look up at them right as Dash’s back disappeared into the hallway.

Jazz looked at where Dash disappeared before turning her gaze to Paulina, a brow raised.

“Hi, Jazz!” Paulina greeted chipperly.

Jazz narrowed her eyes. “Are you guys behaving?”

Paulina scoffed at the older girl and crossed her arms. “Of course we are. We’re not five.”

“Right.” Jazz said as she headed into the kitchen. “What are you guys up to?”

“Working on a group project. We got hungry and came down for snacks.” Paulina shrugged. “But we’re getting back to it now, so I’m going to go join them upstairs.”

“Have fun.” Jazz called as Paulina walked up the stairs.

She hurried down the hall to Danny’s room and walked in, closing the door behind her. When she looked up, she was met with Dash pacing in the middle of the room.

‘What if he doesn’t wake up?” Dash asked. “What if he has brain damage or something and he dies in his sleep? It’d be our fault. We killed him.”

Paulina fought back the panic. “We didn’t kill him. He’s right there. He’s breathing.”

“Why did he look like that in the basement then?” Dash stopped pacing to look at her. “Last time I checked, humans didn’t have magical girl transformations in real life.”

“I don’t know!” Paulina seethed at him, her hands in fists at her sides. “But he was breathing, he was making noise.” “What if he was pretending?” Dash whispered. “What if he turned into something, and he doesn't need to anymore so he was just pretending and-”

Both Paulina’s and Dash’s head whipped in Danny’s direction where he groaned, laying on his bed. He brought a hand up to his head and pried his eyes open.

“Danny!” Paulina gasped. She rushed over to the side of his bed. “Oh my gosh, are you actually alive?”

He looked at her like she grew a second head. “Uh, yeah? I ache pretty badly though.”

“See, Dash.” Paulina turned towards him. “I told you he was alive.”

“Wait, wait.” Danny shook his head. “Why didn’t you think I was alive?” He looked up at where Dash stood by the door.

“You were in the portal when it turned on!” Dash whisper yelled. “What was I supposed to think? And then you walk out of the portal all inverted and glowing with white hair and-”

“What? I couldn’t have had white hair.”

Paulina shook her head. “No, it’s true. You looked completely different when you walked out of the portal and then you just changed back to normal for some reason.”

Danny furrowed his brows. “You guys like to make fun of my parent’s intelligence but you’re not even making sense right now. There’s no way I could’ve-”

His voice suddenly died out as another bright ring appeared around his waist. He watched in both fascination and horror as it traveled over his body, leaving behind an inverted version of his jumpsuit.

Quickly, he jumped out of bed and ran to the closet door where a body length mirror was hanging off of it. He stared at his reflection in horror.

“What is this? What happened?” He turned to look at them. “Did you guys do this somehow?”

“No!” Dash shouted, lowering his voice as he was hushed by Paulina. “That’s literally how you walked out of the portal thing. Then the same transformation happened and you were back to normal.”

Danny’s breath started increasing. He started feeling around for his phone. “I have to call my parents. They’ll know what to do.”

Just as Danny opened his phone to call his parents, Dash swiped it from his hand.

“If you tell your parents about this you’ll have to deal with me.”

Danny jumped at the other boy, trying to grab his phone. “Like I said before, I already have to deal with you. That’s not much of a threat.” He tried to grab his phone again.

“Listen here-”

“Oh, wait!” Danny said, malice dripping from his voice. “If I told my parents what you guys did and how badly it hurt me, you’d probably get sent to juvie. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Dash’s face paled and Paulina felt a chill crawl up her spine.

“If you don’t want me asking for my parent’s help you guys are the ones who are gonna have to do it.”

“What?” Paulina said.

“No!” Dash exclaimed.

“Yes!” Danny shouted right back at him. “It’s your guys’ fault!”

“Why don’t you ask your spooky girlfriend for help?” Paulina pointed a finger at Danny and put her other hand on her hip. “Isn’t she like a witch? Doesn’t she do like voodoo magic stuff? Maybe she’d know how to get rid of it.”

Danny’s eyes widened in panic. “No! I can’t tell them! They’ll think I’m some kind of freak! I’ll lose the only friends I have!”

“You are a freak though.” Dash said flatly.

“Fine. Don’t ask Sam.” Paulina scrunched her nose up. “Why us though? Why do we need to be involved?”

“One, again, it’s your fault.” Danny lifted up a finger. “Two, I don’t care if you guys think I’m a freak because you already hate my guts. And three, I have leverage against you guys and I’m what stands between you guys and charges.”

Paulina shifted uncomfortably between her feet. “How are we supposed to help you though? We don’t even know what’s going on.”

Danny shakily lowered himself back down onto his bed. “I don’t know. Figure it out. I’d ask my parents. But. You know.” He motioned with his arms.

Paulina scowled.

“Maybe start with trying to change back?” Dash said quietly. “I don’t know about Paulina, but seeing you like that is starting to get freaky.”

“How do I do that?”

“I don’t know!” Dash threw his hands into the air and dropped heavily onto the desk chair.

“Maybe start with thinking human thoughts?” Paulina suggested.

“Human thoughts?” Danny lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah like.” Paulina paused to think. “Humans are warm and firm and not glowy, think thoughts like that or something.

Danny rolled his eyes, but closed them in concentration a second later. About a minute or two passed and Paulina could see Danny getting agitated, his hands gripping into tight fists. He opened his mouth.

“I don’t think this is-”

Another bright flash of light filled the room and Danny was left to his normal self again. He looked at his hands and at the hair hanging in his face and smiled.

“Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all.”

Paulina had a feeling nothing could be that simple, but she ignored it. “Let’s get started on that project again. When’s it due?”

“Uh…” Dash said, balancing a pencil on his nose. “The seventh?”

She frowned. “That can’t be right. I thought we had until the ninth.”

“Nah, nah, I’m positive it was the seventh. I was paying attention in class that day.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!”

Dash and Paulina both took out their phones, scrambling to check their class site.

“Uh, guys?” Danny said.

They ignored him, still bickering about the due date.

“Guys.”

“See, I told you Dash. It was due on the ninth. If it was the seventh we wouldn’t have had-”

“Guys!” Danny shouted.

“What?” Paulina turned her head to glare at him but her eyes widened.

Danny was staring up at the two of them in panic, his body halfway through the floor.

“Help!”

“What the fuck?” Dash said.

Paulina rushed over to grab Danny by the hand and motioned for Dash to grab the other one. Together, they hefted Danny back out of the floor and were able to set him back down.

“What was that?” Dash asked Danny, who was staring at his feet as if they’d betray him at any moment.

Yeah. It couldn’t have been that simple.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 21 #phic phight 2021 #team ghost #danny fenton #dash baxter #paulina sanchez #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic

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nostalgiahan · 4 years

Text

Still Into You

genre: songfic, fluff, smut

pairing: graffiti artist!changbin x afab!reader (gender-neutral language)

word count: 2k

warnings: drug use (cannabis,) trespassing, oral sex (f,) car sex, little dialogue, changbin and reader run from the cops lol

a/n: i was listening to still into you by paramore and this just kinda. came into existence. it’s also very song focused so if you’ve never listened to 2000s alt rock... i’m sorry lmao. the sugarmill in the story is also a real place that my friends and i used to visit and smoke take pictures at, although the cops never found us there haha. anyways enjoy folks.

Your nails had been tapping on the windowsill enough to wear them down to nubs by the time Changbin pulled up in front of your house. When his beat up Subaru pulled up next to the curb, you just about jumped out of your skin from excitement. Today was your fourth anniversary, as well as Valentine’s Day, and the adrenaline rushing through your blood was a sign that you were more than looking forward to whatever fun plans he had up his sleeve.

Compared to most couples on Valentine’s day, your outfit was pretty plain and not at all glamorous. Practical boots, jeans, an old band hoodie and Changbin’s dark green parka were your clothes of choice, but you knew that your boyfriend wasn’t going to take you to some fancy restaurant. No, you two were going adventuring.

As soon as you hop in the passenger seat of the car, shoving a couple of receipts into the foot well, Changbin reaches into his hoodie pocket and gives you a card. It’s crude, made of a folded sheet of printer paper and hastily scribbled on in pen but it’s very fitting for him.

“You better enjoy the card,” he says with a smirk, “because it came to me in a dream. This is pure, undiluted Changbin, packaged for your enjoyment and convenience.”

Giggling, you open the card. Inside is a barely legible “i love you so much y/n” surrounded by hearts, and in the corner is a drawing of a cow dressed in a lab coat and holding a beaker labeled “Moorie Curie.” It’s perfect, but what else did you expect from him?

“Happy anniversary, my love.” When you look up at Changbin, he has the widest smile on his face, cheeks dotted with flecks of paint and eyes crinkled up into little crescents. He’s dressed similarly to you, hair sitting in a pile on top of his head, clearly not having been paid attention to before leaving the house. It doesn’t matter, though, since the both of you will be wearing hoods over your heads anyways. You lean over the center console to give him a quick kiss, although it takes a couple of tries to get his lips since you’re both smiling so hard.

Changbin kicks his old car into gear as he sets off towards his destination. He’s explaining where you’re going, but you can barely hear him over the car speakers blasting Simple Plan and Green Day.

“So yeah, it’s this sugarmill that caught on fire in, like, 1910, and they never renovated it. There’s a bunch of cool abandoned shit around there, too. I think there’s, like, three fucked up couches.”

As you listen to him talk, you stick your fingers through the gap at the top of the side window. It’s permanently cracked open like that, and you have vivid memories of trying to throw cigarette butts through the gap when the two of you were bored.

After a while of listening to pop punk and playing with Changbin’s fingers over the gear shift, you arrive at your destination. Several charred brick buildings sit in the middle of a field, dead trees framing an open area in the center where someone has set up some logs and rocks to form a makeshift circle. Your boyfriend’s eyes scan the landscape, looking for his next canvas. Eventually, he tugs your arm and leads you towards one of the buildings, smiling back at you. “C’mon, let’s go explore this place.”

The two of you wander for a while, over rickety walkways and up staircases, taking pictures with your Polaroid and holding hands the whole time. Eventually, Changbin finds a stretch of wall big enough to start his work. Setting his duffel bag on the ground, he beckons you over and crouches down, inviting you to hop onto his back.

He pulls out a can of white spray paint, shaking it and popping the cap with his thumb. As he starts to paint, making large, sweeping motions with his arms, you really wished he had worn something sleeveless, however impractical. After lighting a slightly crushed joint you’d fished out of your pocket, you nestled your nose into his shoulder, holding the joint up to Changbin’s lips. He takes a few pulls as he works, the previously bland wall turning into a beautiful blend of blues, purples, and whites. It’s always fascinating to see how he works, seemingly not thinking before laying down a line of paint, yet each stroke seems to perfectly fit in with the others.

As he’s switching colors, Changbin lets you off his back, settling his hands on your sides. He stares at you for a bit, trying to study every bit of your face that isn’t covered by the oversized hood of his jacket. After a while, he smiles, pulling you close and kissing your forehead. Changbin always called you his muse, but you never expected him to take it as literally as he did, often staring at you or asking unrelated questions when he was stuck with a piece. He sways gently back and forth, pressing little kisses to your head, as Good Charlotte emanates from the tiny phone speaker in his back pocket. Occasionally, he’ll pull back just a tiny bit to really study your face, kissing you softly and muttering something along the lines of “i really can’t believe how fucking incredible you are” or “i love you so much it’s unreal.”

It’s not until a few more songs have ended that he pulls away, inviting you back onto his back as you light another joint. The piece is almost done, the tag “SPEARB” painted in blobby letters, shining artificially. All he has left is the outline, but his work is cut short when you hear the faint sound of sirens approaching and the light creeping in from the broken windows flashes a faint red and blue.

What happens next is like clockwork. You hop off of Changbin’s back, putting out the joint on the wall and throwing it into his duffel bag along with the other cans of paint he’s left out. What you’re supposed to do next is grab the bag and run, but Changbin is trying his best to finish a really specific detail and the more time he has that can in his hand, the less time you guys have to get the fuck out. After what seems like an eternity of whisper-yelling and (gently) stomping your foot at him, he caps the can and throws it into the bag. Finally, the two of you are off. As he’s picking up the bag, however, you notice what he was taking so long to finish. In tiny lettering, in the bottom corner of the piece, 4 words. “fuck cops” on one line, and “for y/n” on another.

As the two of you clamber over wooden planks and piping, pulling your hoods over your heads and your masks over your faces to hide your identities, Changbin grabs your hand and squeezes. He lets go almost as quickly as he grabbed it but the sentiment is still there; i’m here, i’m gonna keep us safe. It’s a welcome sentiment when shouts of “police,” and “show yourselves” echo through the abandoned hall.

Fifteen minutes of running and one chain link fence climb later, you’re back at the car, cops nowhere in sight. You’re panting heavily as you throw off the parka and throw it into the backseat, and Changbin doesn’t look any better as he’s gulping water and fanning his face. Right as you’re about to climb in, he grabs your arm and spins you so you’re pressed between him and the car, holding your cheeks in his hands and grinning at you.

“God. Fuck. Wow. You’re unreal. I love you so much.”

You’re unable to do anything but nod. The two of you are still breathless and in that moment you realize that’s what your love was like. In the four years of you dating, your love never went stale, you never settled into a routine. You were always doing new things, like going on spur of the moment road trips or fucking around at playgrounds in the early hours of the morning. You never thought about the future, just did your best to enjoy your time in the present and bask in the glow of each other’s affection. You expected that after such a long time together you’d at least feel a little duller, but everything still feels as fresh and new as when you were teenagers and sneaking out to make out on park benches when no one was looking.

As you’re lost in thought, Changbin pulls you impossibly closer and presses his lips to yours, hard. Music is still playing from his phone as the kiss becomes more heated, and you make sure to add 1985 by Bowling for Soup to your “running from the cops” playlist later. Almost every memory you have with Changbin is attached to a song, and this one is no exception.

Changbin pulls away to wrench open the back seat door, guiding you to sit and kneeling on the dirty floor. He heaves the duffel bag on the seat next to you and you dig through it, searching for the joint you threw into it earlier. Once you’ve gotten to My Own Worst Enemy, you’ve lit it and Changbin has gotten your jeans halfway down your legs and your thighs over his shoulders.

Your boyfriend wastes no time in burying his face in your heat, licking hot stripes up and down and moaning loudly into your core. He pulls away to rest his head on your thigh and take a few puffs of the joint, and in that moment you remember your Polaroid exists and manage to snap a picture of him blowing out smoke, with your hand in his hair and his face squished between your legs.

Changbin pays it no mind and gets straight back to work, sucking on your clit and easing his tongue into your hole. Your grip on his hair tightens and you arch into his mouth, fucking yourself back on his tongue. Picking up on this, he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls your towards him, close enough that you’re afraid he’s going to suffocate himself trying to pleasure you.

It’s hot and sticky and perfect, and the atmosphere combined with the weed and the fact that Seo fucking Changbin is eating you out is too much for you and you cum all over his tongue, which eagerly laps up your release, taking long, languid strokes to make sure he gets every drop. As you come down, Changbin is stroking your thighs and sucking hickeys into the soft flesh, and you register that Misery Business needs to be added to your “dirty car sex” playlist.

After basking in the yellow glow of the car’s overhead light and the thrilling afterglow of just having done something you shouldn’t have for a while, lazily finishing off the rest of your joint, the two of you get your things in order and begin the journey to Changbin’s apartment, speeding down the highway with the windows cracked the whole way. He carries you into the building like he always does, setting you down gently on the couch before heading off to the kitchen so you can make some blueberry muffins together. You do, and they’re terrible, so you heat up leftovers instead and watch reruns of old James Bond movies, cuddling on the couch. The night ends with Chasing Cars and you laying on Changbin’s chest, naked and sweaty and anticipating lots of aches in the morning, whispering tiny i love yous into each others’ skin and it’s perfect. But everything is always perfect with him. What else could you possibly expect?

please let me know if you guys enjoyed this!! feel free to send an ask, i always love receiving them🤌🏻🤌🏻

#stray kids imagines #changbin imagines #changbin x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #changbin fluff #changbin smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz smut #skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #changbin #can u guys tell i miss hanging out with my friends 😔

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baffling-bisexual-quack · 3 years

Text

Trouble in Paradise

HI, anyone who might see this! I wrote another oneshot (thorbruce). Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Thor + Bruce are in relationships (Jane, Nat), but they aren’t completely happy.

Warnings: Cheating

Word count: 1668

“Banner!” Thor called out, catching the small scientist just before he went back into the lab, or as Tony called it, the Lair From Which Bruce Shall Not Return. Thor hadn’t seen Bruce in weeks. It wasn’t a matter of choice; there had been lots of missions in the past while, and Thor and Bruce were both now busy with their significant others. Bruce and Nat were officially together, and Thor and Jane were an obvious thing. Plus, Bruce had been on the edge of a ‘scientific breakthrough’, which were code words for ‘Bruce is having feelings he doesn’t like and is trying to hide’. Or it really was a scientific breakthrough and a robber had come in and stolen all of their ice cream.

“Hey, Thor.” Bruce mumbled before slipping back in to the lab and started to shut the door. He would’ve succeeded if Thor hadn’t shoved himself into the crack between the door and the wall, trying to have a decent conversation with the man.

“Owww.” Thor groaned as Bruce tried to shut the door, not realizing the norse god was in the way. Thor was wearing his armour, as usual, so some of the pain was taken away.

“Oh, jeez, sorry Thor. By any chance, did you want to talk?” Bruce said, a small smile on his lips.

“Yes, I did want to talk! How did you know?” Thor asked.

“Just a hunch. Come on in.” Bruce said, turning away to go towards the lab table. He went right back to his research, forgetting about his visitor.

“So, Banner! What are you working on?” Thor asked, going to the table and resting his hands on Bruce’s papers, making a couple of them slide out of the pile and onto the floor.

“I’m, uh, working on some stuff with radiation, you know, thermal, uh, diffusional restitutions- THOR!” Bruce said, getting slightly angry at Thor. The giant had knocked over some tubes with his hands, making bruce jog over to make sure nothing spilled on the floor.

“Many apologies, Banner, I-“

“Maybe just go stand in the middle of the room.” Bruce said, a little agitated.

“Alright then. I am sorry I meddled with your papers and tubes.” Thor said apologetically.

“No, it’s not your fault, I’m a scatterbrain right now and I’m kind of stressed, so the littlest things are pissing me off.” Bruce said, double checking his papers were in order. He then made his way back to the beakers to fix that problem.

“Ah. You should come out for a change! I believe Tony has a team bonding game going on.” Thor suggested.

“Um, not really in the mood.”

“I understand.”

There was an awkward silence after this remark, neither Thor nor Bruce thinking of a subject that wouldn’t offend anybody. Bruce finally broke it.

“So, how’s Jane? Haven’t seen her around in awhile.”

“Oh, Jane is good.” Thor said, sighing a little and looking towards the ceiling.

“Oh? Trouble in paradise?” Bruce asked cheekily.

“Tony used that exact expression! What does it mean? What paradise? I am not in paradise. What troubles? Did I do something wrong that affected a paradise?”

“Tony used it? Agh, he must be rubbing off on me.” Bruce chuckled. “To answer your questions, trouble in paradise is basically a shorter way of saying ‘oh, everything’s not perfect? I had no idea!’ Like, sarcastically.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my relationship with Jane is doubted by everybody, and they are using their midgardian terms to get around saying it to my face.” Thor answered.

“Uhm…” Bruce stuttered, looking around like he was trying to find a way out of this situation. “Guess you’ve got me there.”

“Well, they’re not completely wrong…” Thor said, a little quieter. Bruce gave him a look of empathy and confusion. “I just feel Jane is getting less enthusiastic to see me, and more like she thinks it is a chore I have to complete.” Thor finished, looking at the ground now.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry.” Bruce said sympathetically.

“It’s not important. How is Natasha?” Thor asked, avoiding the subject.

“Oh, um. Yeah. She’s… good. As good as an assassin can be, I guess.” Bruce said, turning back to his work.

“No, don’t do that.” Thor said, gesturing to Bruce.

“What?” Bruce asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Turn back towards your work. It means you are avoiding the subject.” Thor objected.

“Ok then.” Bruce said, facing towards Thor. “But this doesn’t mean I’m going to talk.

This remark was followed by a few minutes of awkward silence. Bruce knew in his head that Thor was just waiting for him to burst. Finally, he did.

“I just don’t know if I like Nat.” Bruce sighed.

“Wait, you do not like her? Not even as a friend?” Thor asked, looking quizzically at Bruce.

“No, I just don’t know if I want to, you know, go out with her.” Bruce said, looking at the ground. “Dammit it’s hard to avoid the subject when you’re facing the person!”

“Wait, what is wrong with Nat?”

“It’s not Nat, I just might… like someone else.” Bruce whispered, starting to turn back to his work.

“Who?” Thor asked. Bruce mumbled out an incoherent answer and looked away, not making eye contact with Thor.

“Pardon?” Thor said.

“No… one. That I could ever tell, at least.” Bruce responded, looking at Thor’s armour a little more than what would be considered friend-like.

“Are you sure?” Thor asked, walking back up to Bruce until he was so close Bruce could touch him if he extended his arm almost fully. Thor had his held tilted just a little, so he looked so innocent, so cute.

“Not… really.” Bruce breathed, biting his lip as he looked at Thor’s hair. Thor raised one eyebrow a little. “I mean, what if he... doesn’t like me back?”

“If you’re talking about who I think you might be, I do not think you have any problems.” Thor said, stepping a little closer.

“Thor…” Bruce started.

“Yes, Banner?” Thor asked calmly. He had moved so close to him that Bruce could feel Thor’s breath on his face as he looked up.

“I- you’re really- please-“

“Shall I put you out of your misery?” Thor joked, smiling a little.

“Yes, please, Thor.” Bruce responded. That was all it took for Thor to move the rest of the way so he was right up against Bruce. He took Bruce’s face in his hands and bent down, bringing Bruce up just enough for their mouths to meet. It took less than a second for Bruce to start kissing Thor back, hands making their way up to wrap around Thor’s neck as Thor’s hands slid down to hold Bruce’s sides. Thor pulled Bruce impossibly close to his body. The kiss only deepened when Thor felt Bruce’s tongue swipe against his lips. He let it in without a fight, eager for whatever Bruce had to offer. They stayed like this for a minute or two, until they had to pull away. Bruce was staring at Thor like a deer in the headlights, arms still around his neck.

“T-Thor, I don’t think… I mean I really want…” Bruce exhaled. “What about Jane and Nat?”

“I don’t know, Bruce.” Thor said, putting his forehead against Bruce’s. Bruce closed his eyes, enjoying one last moment before they had to face reality. “What do you want to do?”

“How do you mean?” Bruce asked, opening his eyes to look into Thor’s. Those big, blue eyes, as bright as the sky on a cloudless day.

“I mean, do we tell Jane and Nat? Do we pretend it never happened? Do we stay together and not tell Jane and Nat? Do we break up with them?” Thor began. Bruce wanted so bad just to go on with life, pretend he hadn’t finally gotten the man he always wanted, keep settling for Nat. But there was this literal god in front of him who had kissed him. It made Bruce want to reach for the stars, in a way.

“I think for now, we just…” Bruce started, moving his hands up to play with Thor’s hair. “Just… stay like this. For the immediate future, at least.”

Thor grinned a little, eyes gleaming with hope. “So can I kiss you again?” He asked, bending down so their noses touched gently.

“God yes.” Within half a second they were back at it, tongues sliding through their mouths, handing moving around, trying to claim the other body as their own. After a little bit of this bliss, Thor pulled back, picking Bruce up and setting him on the table. Bruce was surprised, but he rather enjoyed this turn of events. It was so much more than the empty kisses Nat gave him. Those felt robotic, unwanted. These felt passionate and full. He cupped Thor’s head again, hands running though his hair, begging for more. Thor responded by going downwards to suck on Bruce’s neck. Bruce moaned a little, spurring Thor on. Eventually, Bruce pulled Thor’s head back up, demanding attention from his lips. He brought Thor into another kiss, wishing the moment would never end. Eventually, he needed a breath, so he pulled away, settling for capturing Thor’s bottom lip in his teeth. Thor gave him a cheeky smile and returned to his work on Bruce’s neck.

“Are you enjoying this as much as I am?” Bruce asked, making Thor look up at him.

“You underestimate yourself, Bruce. If Nat hasn’t gotten that habit out of you, then I guess I will just have to.” Thor said, smiling devilishly. He leaned back into Bruce, kissing him soundly, not aware about the presence in the doorway.

Clint’s eyebrows went up in shock as Bruce curled his legs around Thor’s waist. “Ohhh boy.” He whispered, because he probably couldn’t say anything above a whisper right now. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and his arms rested frozen at his side. “I’d like to seem them explain this.”

#thorbruce #thruce #gammahammer #thunderscience #jane foster #natasha romanoff #clint barton #cheating #pls dont cheat IRL #i cant even really imagine bruce cheating #such a soft cinnomen bun #my science boi #with thor its a maybe #no offence thor #clumsy thor

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coldcocoamilk · 3 years

Text

hey y'all lousy Levihan lovers - I got a new laptop, which means I can finally write comfortably again. we know what that means - a new fic.

as always, this fic is available on archive of our own at this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32169334/chapters/79707976

Title: I Went to College and All I Got Was This Lousy Degree

Summary: At the start of Hange's senior year, she's told that she must tutor the ill-tempered Levi Ackerman in Biology if he wants to graduate and keep his baseball scholarship. From that point forward, she does everything she can to keep it strictly business with Levi - until they keep running into each other, everywhere. It takes a little time and some self-discovery, but eventually, she finds herself falling for that baseball boy in the midst of her college career.

chapter 1 under the cut :)

1580.

The numbers were bold against her computer screen and seemed to be burning permanently into her retinas. What was that, like, two questions? It wasn’t fair.

“What did you get this time, honey?”

She turned the laptop to face her mother, who frowned. “It’s a ten point increase, at least.”

“I wanted a perfect score,” Hange moaned. “I hate the College Board. This is some crap.”

“Well, that’s three out of three. You’ve still done better than anyone I’ve ever seen,” her mother reassured her. “Can I take these cups?”

Hange looked over her desk at the array of cups, old bowls, and soiled paper plates. “Yeah, but I want the orange one. I’ll help you bring all this down – sorry about the mess.”

“You’ve been studying hard,” her mom reassured her. “I just don’t want any roaches to be drawn in.”

The warmth from the soapy dish water was soothing on her aching hands. Ever since eight that morning, Hange had been either typing, writing, or highlighting, and when her hands weren’t in use, her eyes flew across text resulting in the typical tension headache she felt directly behind her eyes. Now that it was six, and dinner was almost ready? Done. She was done. Hange thought that senior year would be the worst year for her, but so far, junior year was setting the bar pretty high with the combination of exams, state testing, entrance exams, and college applications.

“Leave the water in the sink. I made you some veggies,” her mom told her.

Perhaps it was weird, but one of the few things that Hange enjoyed out of her mom’s cooking was vegetables. Everything else was either too bland or too salty, too mushy or nearly burnt, but her vegetables were always well seasoned and just cooked right. Going vegetarian had been easy for Hange, especially since it was pretty much all she ate at home anyways.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s after dinner still?” Her mom asked as they ate their dinner together.

“Yeah, I’ll probably sleep there tonight, if you don’t mind,” Hange replied between forkfuls of carrots. “By the way, when does dad come back?”

“Wednesday morning, so you’ll have to take the truck into school, okay? And that’s fine, just check in with me at some point. Go ahead and take the truck tonight, too.”

“Yup, gotcha,” Hange replied, finishing her plate. “Thank you for the food – I really like that new sauce you’re using.”

Her mom beamed, a rare sight for her tired face. “I used balsamic dressing in it! I knew it’d be good.”

Hange grabbed her bag from the bottom of the stairs on her way up. It was way too hefty for her plans tonight, and besides, she really didn’t need her calc II book at Nanaba’s, anyways. She packed the usual: laptop, jeans, cute shirt, a long skirt, cardigan, flats, and some pajamas. Her deodorant and perfume got haphazardly thrown in there too, along with an extra hair tie and her chargers. On last thought, Hange reached for a couple of suspiciously heavy balled-up sock pairs, throwing them in there too. Nanaba would appreciate that.

The truck keys were on the counter next to Hange’s wallet, and she clipped them onto her belt loop on the way out. Everyone in the house had ended up with her trusty carabiner trick: can’t lose your keys if they’re always attached to your pants. Her logic was that if you lose your pants somehow, you’ve got more issues than your keys.

“See ya mom!” Hange called out to the house. Her mom’s jazz music was already audible from the bedroom, and the dishes from dinner sat soaking in the sink. It was always much more laid back when her dad was out on a business trip, and a nice treat in comparison to his uptight antics.

Dusk in southern California during April was always nice – it wasn’t chilly enough to warrant a decent coat, but it was warm enough that you could get away with a dress. Sure, the daytime was utter hell, but at night, her dad’s hoodie on the passenger side of the bench seat in his truck was a welcome blanket on her lap as she drove to Nanaba’s house just fifteen minutes away.

Nanaba had been Hange’s best friend since the sixth grade, and they weren’t planning on changing that any time soon. Once upon a chilly November evening, school had just let out and they sat waiting for their parents to pick them up. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour, then a full hour – somehow, the two had ended up being “those kids.” You know the type. Mom fell asleep or lost track of time, child has to try their hardest to remember the house phone number, mom freaks out and arrives in a panic. In that span of an hour, the two started an inseparable bond over Pokémon Sapphire on Hange’s Gameboy Advance.

Hange let herself in with the key under the mat, making her way quietly through the house and up the stairs to Nanaba’s room. She found her with a clear plastic bonnet on her head, cross-legged at the head of the bed on her laptop, and the room reeked of chemicals. “Yo,” she announced herself, dropping her bookbag on the bed and flopping down on it. “That time of the month again?”

“You make it sound like I’ve got my period,” Nanaba complained. “What score did you get?”

“A fifteen eighty,” Hange replied. “You?”

“Fifteen thirty,” Nanaba beamed. “My highest yet!”

“Yooooo!” Hange shot up. “I’m proud of you! That’s, what, a seventy-point improvement? You studied!”

“I took your advice and had my dad buy me that SAT prep book you kept talking about. It really did work, thank you so much,” Nanaba gushed. “I feel like I can finally relax, just a little. Next weeks is finals, but in a couple hours, it’ll be Sunday, which means I’m not studying for a whole twenty-four hours.”

Hange flopped back down on the bed. “Preach. You feel like going out tonight?”

Nanaba leaned against the headboard of her bed, the plastic cap on her head crinkling against the wall. “Nah, I don’t think anything is happening. Besides, I’m doing my hair. I need you to help me touch up the sides again.”

“All right,” Hange replied. “How long do you have left?”

“Ten minutes,” Nanaba closed her laptop and stretched before swinging her legs off the side of the bed. “We’re not going out tonight, but I do have a bottle, if you wanna.”

“I brought shooters!” Hange shot back up, immediately digging through her bag and extracting the balled-up socks. “Some different ones this time, for us to try. What did you get this time?”

Nanaba walked across the room and opened her closet, pulling a bottle of liquor out from a box labelled WINTER. “Eddy orange this time. Haven’t tried it yet, but I thought we’ve abused the lemon enough.” Glass clinked as she pulled out two shot glasses: one shaped like a miniature beaker, and a normal one that simply said BOOBS.

“Beautiful,” Hange grinned. “Today we’re trying… uhh… UV Blue, Jägermeister, and this weird peanut butter whiskey stuff.”

“Did you shoplift again?” Nanaba gave her a glance. “You know, it’s one thing to buy with a fake. It’s another to shoplift entirely.”

“Does it count as shoplifting if your parents don’t drink but keep getting gifted weird alcohol gift baskets from my dad’s customers so it all just ends up sitting in the liquor cabinet for years anyways?”

“God, your dad’s job is weird.”

“Yeah, I know.”

#levihan #my writing #levi x hange #levi x hanji #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #stoplookinghere

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whump-mania · 4 years

Text

Barely Human: Chapter 1

TW: needles, body horror, gore, monsters, medical whump

Connie typed away at her computer, finishing up her studies for the night. She smiled with pride, proud of the research she had gotten done about the Noxes: the terrifying eldritch creatures that plagued the island Connie lived on.

She was getting closer and closer to finding something that could kill them. Everyone was counting on her: she WAS the renound scientist that figured out a cure for a Nox transformation, after all. Why wouldn’t they expect this of her?

Connie felt that she was just one puzzle piece away from finding the solution. All of the deaths and trauma caused by those monsters would finally cease, and the island would be itself again. Nox scientists could be scientists, Nox hunters could be hunters, Nox victims could be…well, not victims.

Connie closed her laptop when she finished up her last note, yawning deeply and rising from her office chair to get ready for bed. A full day of research could really tire someone out.

She made her way up to her bathroom, washed her face, and put pajamas on. Connie started pulling her long, black hair out of the messy bun she wore when—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Connie jumped at the noise, almost screaming. That noise…that was the emergency tone. She checked her phone: it was 12:30 in the morning, who would be needing her so late?

She rushed to the small, silver communication device that was beeping loudly and violently on her work desk. She picked it up and pressed “answer”, effectively stopping the beeping.

Connie yawned. “Hey, who is th—”

“CONNIE!”

The scientist yelped and almost dropped the device. But she recognized that voice (of course she recognized it, she fantasized about it every day): it was Micah.

“O-Oh, Micah, hey, what’s—”

“C-Connie, are you—fuck, he’s BLEEDING, oh god—Connie a-are you free?”

Micah Saunders was the leader of the 3rd Nox Hunter team. He was confident, friendly, headstrong, and the most brilliant team leader Connie had ever met.

So it sent chills up her spine to hear such raw fear in his voice.

“Yes, I’m…I’m free, what do you—”

“C-Cameron, he’s…oh god…” Micah’s voice was muffled, as if his hand was covering his mouth. “A Nox, he got…he got bitten, Connie, he’s turning.”

“Oh, o-oh shit. Come here right away, I-I’ll get a room ready.” Connie started rushing down to her lab.

The call ended before she made it down the stairs to her laboratory. Connie hastily gathered the essentials for this kind of situation: a few syringes, leather restraints, and a beaker of light purple liquid: the serum that she herself had created.

Connie panted and waited down in her lab for the doorbell. She looked around her and sighed. “Cameron,” she whispered out loud. Cameron. Why was it always Cameron?

Cameron, the rookie. Cameron, the boy who joined Team 3 only two months ago. Cameron, the only member of all of the teams to never have sedated a Nox. Cameron, the “cute little readhead” that Micah was always raving about now.

Why. Did she always. Have to hear. About. Cameron.

Of course he got bitten, inexperienced little—

The doorbell shook Connie out of her thoughts. She pulled on a dirty lab coat, rushed up the stairs, and opened the door.

“Connie, thank god!” Connie was face to face with the fearless team leader, now with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Micah rushed inside, urging the rest of his team inside.

Connie was passed by Micah, then Yvonne, then Oliver, then Russell: and in Russell’s strong arms, was Cameron.

Cameron looked horrible.

His face was coated with sweat, eyes uncontrollably leaking with tears. His hair was matted, his uniform was dirty, and pained moans left his pale lips.

But the worst thing of all was Cameron’s arm. His uniform was torn through, and on his freckled skin was a deep gash, pulsing and leaking blood that was pure black. The wound was spreading to the rest of his arm, his veins turning black and swelling to the surface of his skin.

Connie wanted to throw up.

The scientist rushed the five of them down to her laboratory and quickly strapped Cameron into an examination chair with the leather restraints. The rest of the team did whatever they could to help.

As Connie filled a syringe with her serum, Micah leaned over Cameron’s chair.

“Cam, can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, I promise, just—just stay with me, okay?” Micah’s voice rang in Connie’s ears. All of that fuss for him.

She shook her head. Don’t think about that right now, you have a job to do. The scientist strode over to the boy strapped in the chair, and without any hesitation, stabbed the pulsing wound with the needle.

Cameron’s scream was inhuman. It ripped from his throat, probably shredding it to pieces, and even Yvonne jumped back. Oliver screamed too, Russell covered his ears, and it took everything in Micah’s power not to rip Connie away from his teammate.

The syringe was finally pulled away when the serum had effectively seeped into Cameron’s wound. It stopped pulsing, and became slightly less swollen. His veins began to turn back to their normal color. Cameron took deep gasps of air, still hazy from the pain.

Connie stepped back, and turned to the rest of the team. “Um…yeah. First dose is done.” She gave them an awkward smile. She just wished they would stop looking at her like she just killed him.

Micah snapped out of whatever trance he was in and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Connie. Thank you so, so much, you’re a lifesaver.” Connie couldn’t hide the redness that formed st her cheeks, or the smile that crept onto her face. “O-Of course…”

Yvonne scoffed. “It’s her JOB, Micah, chill.” She turned to the scientist. “How long’s this gonna take?”

Connie shrunk a little at Yvonne’s harsh tone. The strong, stoic woman had always intimidated her. “Uh…probably, like, two? T-Two weeks? Maybe three.” She turned back to Cameron. “It’s…not as bad as it could be.”

“It’s late.” Russel’s deep voice filled the room. Oliver spoke up as well, wringing his hands nervously. “He’s right…our boss will get worried.”

“Then let’s go,” Yvonne snapped, turning to leave. Russel and Oliver quickly followed her up the stairs, and Micah trailed behind.

“You promise he’ll be okay?” Micah asked the scientist. Connie gave him the most reassuring smile she could.

“Promise.”

Micah returned the smile and ran up the stairs, leading his team home. Connie was alone again…no, not alone. He was still here.

Connie sighed and found her clipboard. The first dose was just given, the second would be tomorrow morning at 8, the third at 6…

Cameron’s pained whines broke Connie’s gaze from her clipboard. “C…Con…” His voice was raspy and weak, his attempt to say Connie’s name dying in a cough.

Connie put her clipboard down and walked in front of Cameron. “Do you need something?” She asked, keeping her distance even though he was tied down.

Cameron’s whole body shook. “H-Hurts…need…” Another cough. Connie tried not to roll her eyes as she sighed deeply.

“I can’t give you anything. The serum’s all you get. Sorry.”

She tried to block out Cameron’s whimpers as she packed up her supplies and headed back upstairs. “It just HAD to be him,” Connie whispered to herself before getting in bed.

She dreamed of Micah.

By the fourth dose, Cameron had improved. A little bit.

The wound was still gory, the pain was still intense. That wouldn’t change until about the tenth dose. But it wasn’t spreading anymore, and that’s all Connie really cared about. The world didn’t need anymore damn Noxes.

Connie made her way downstairs to deliver the fifth dose. She was irritated: she didn’t like having someone in her lab, it was her safe space. Her place to be alone with her thoughts. And now, it was occupied by the last person she wanted to think about.

Cameron let out a weak “Hey” when Connie came downstairs, which was promptly ignored. She wanted to get this stupid drug into this stupid kid and get this stupid situation done and over with.

“I’m glad you’re—” Cameron paused to cough. “—H-Here. It’s, um…it’s getting k-kinda… bad.” Silence. “How…are you?” Cameron tried again. He wanted to make conversation, to feel more like a patient and less like a test subject. But he was only ignored again as the syringe filled once more.

Connie made her way to the redhead strapped to the chair. She grimaced at his wound: the one thing keeping her from having a fairly peaceful week. Her eyes trailed up to Cameron’s: they weren’t that green, like Micah had said.

Connie’s heart fell a little when she thought about Micah. When she thought about how he constantly talked about Cameron, how he got so attached to the boy only days after meeting him when it took herself years to get close with Micah.

Connie looked at the syringe in her hand. Her finest work. The serum that had won her numerous awards, and endless praise, and that made her the one spark of hope for the island.

The serum that was being wasted on some boy.

Connie looked Cameron dead in the eye. Cameron’s eyes filled with confusion, and he laughed nervously. “Are you gonna…”

With that, Connie turned around. She strode to the trash can she kept near her work table, and opened it. Cameron strained his neck to watch her.

Their eyes met. Connie narrowed hers as she angled the tip of the syringe into the can. Cameron’s widened.

“W-What are you—”

SPLAT.

The rememants of the syringe landed in the bottom of the waste basket. Connie turned, and without a word, she placed the empty syringe on the counter with a clang and left.

Cameron’s breath quickened. He shot a look to his arm. He hadn’t lied: the wound was swelling, and leaking more than it should be. And the serum that was supposed to be in his arm was in the trash can.

“No…no, no, this can’t…” Cameron started to struggle. His stomach turned and he suppressed a gag when something began to creep out of the wound. A small, black tendril inched out, waving around before growing in length and slowly constricting around Cameron’s arm.

“Help! HELP! COME BACK, PLEASE!” Cameron cried desperately. He sobbed as more small tendrils broke their way through his skin. He was screaming at the top of his lungs for Connie, for ANYONE, to help him.

An hour passed.

Two. Three.

Seven. Eight.

An entire day.

Two days passed, and Cameron was still strapped to that chair.

Except it wasn’t exactly Cameron anymore.

Now, there was a Nox in that chair.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #female whumper #male whumpee #medical whump #tw needles #tw body horror #tw gore #monsters #Connie #Micah #Cameron #barely human

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saltysideblog · 3 years

Text

Delilah's Kill Count: T H E G L O B E

Author's Note: Where in the World is Delilah Krill?

Masterlist

Chapter Doodles

On Ao3!

Delilah faded in and out of consciousness, whatever poison Bianca had pumped her full of rendering her useless.

She was tied to a hospital bed, struggling to speak. She said in a weak raspy voice, "My friends will find me."

"Those people aren't your friends."

Bianca swiped her thumb across Delilah's cheek, "They don't care about you," she smiled, "-not the way I do."

Cleo checked her phone again. Delilah hadn't responded to any of her messages in the past few days. If Delilah was going through another depressive episode, she needed to get over there as soon as possible. She texted Harley, just in case Delilah refused to let them in and they needed to break in again.

Cleo:

hey, i think delilah needs our help

Dr. Quinnzel, Ph.D:

:((((

what should i bring?

water guns? donuts?

blankets?

throwing stars?

Cleo:

what?

throwing stars??

Dr. Quinnzel, Ph.D:

throwing stars it is ;D

Cleo sighed, she'd deal with that later. She stopped at a newsstand to grab some snacks and noticed a familiar face on the front page of one of the magazines,

Gotham Science Gazette, in big bold letters,

the subtitle caught her eye, Outstanding Women of Physics, September Profile: Dr. Bianca Krill.

There, in her labcoat, giving a cheeky wink to camera, holding up a beaker full of green liquid was Bianca. Cleo grabbed a copy, flipping through to Bianca's interview on her way to Delilah's.

Delilah woke up, sore and aching from the previous day's session. Bianca stood in the doorway, holding the remote in one hand, a tray full of food in the other. Delilah mustered all her strength and rushed her, but she was floored with a single press of a button. Bianca frowned, gently placing Delilah's breakfast on the floor of her cell,

"It doesn't have to be this way, Delilah. Why don't you make it easier on yourself and cooperate?"

Delilah spat through clenched teeth, "Go to hell."

Bianca smiled mysteriously, "Perhaps we will, dear. Perhaps we will."

Cleo met up with Harley on the landing, engrossed in her reading. She held up the magazine,

"Have you seen this?"

Harley was kneeling, a bobby pin in her mouth, jiggling another in the lock. She muttered to herself, "Whass wrong wih dis, ih works in moofies."

Cleo quoted the article, "Listen to this, 'Head of the Parallel Universe Team at Lexcorp, Dr. Krill leads the way in the relatively new field of inter dimensional travel.' That's incredible."

Harley wasn't listening. She spat out the bobby pin, "Fuck it." She stood, kicking the door down. Cleo shielded her face from the flying splinters, "Oh my god, Harley! Warn me!"

Delilah sat at the bottom of a large globe-shaped glass prison.

Bianca stuck electrodes to her body. She tried making small talk,

"How was breakfast?"

Delilah stared ahead, seething with rage.

Bianca frowned, rubbing the last sticker on her arm, "Don't rip these off, please."

Delilah stared ahead, seething with fucking rage.

Bianca left the globe. She stood in front of a large control panel, flicking buttons and switches. The orb that hung over Delilah's head hummed. It was just out of reach. Bianca pulled a lever and the huge circular contraption behind her clanked and whirred to life. It stretched from floor to ceiling, much like the tiles that lined the room. Wires snaked all over the place, spilling from the sides of the machine. A shimmering filmy fluid clung to the sides of the ring, like a bubble before it's been blown.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

Bianca pressed a button on her remote and deactivated Delilah's collar.

As soon as she did, Delilah ripped the electrodes off and lunged forwards to bang on the glass. Pink flashes of light emitted from the orb, outlining Delilah's hands every time she struck it. She couldn't phase through it.

The apartment was empty. Harley shouted,

"Your wellness warriors are here, Dee!"

Harley lifted the blankets on the bed,

"Boo!"

She wasn't in her bedroom.

Harley opened the cabinets,

"Dee?"

She wasn't in the kitchen.

Cleo spotted an abandoned container of soup on the counter. She sniffed it.

Harley lifted the couch cushions,

"Dee?"

Not in the living room.

She saw Cleo in the kitchen and warned her, "I wouldn't eat that if I were you, last time I ate from those containers I felt sane."

The soup had gone bad anyway, but Harley's comment spurred a moment of recognition. She knew who the container belonged to. Hopefully, Ted knew where Delilah was...

Harley lifted the toilet seat, "Dee?"

Delilah's knuckles were bloody. Bianca leaned casually against the control panel, arms crossed. The sides of the globe were smeared with rainbow vomit. Delilah slumped against the glass, letting herself fall to the bottom, splashing in the puddle that formed there. She was exhausted. Panting.

"Are you quite done? Really, Delilah, these little tantrums of yours aren't becoming."

A tired laugh escaped Delilah, "You sound just like my mother..."

Bianca pressed the button and Delilah's muscles seized, "Your mother was short sighted. Heroes? Please! Look at yourself!"

Delilah's ears were buzzing, her vision white with pain. She could've sworn she heard her mother's voice... pathetic... useless... you're not fit to save ants...

"I see your true potential. You could save yourself a world of pain if you just... collaborate."

Sit still and be quiet. Delilah chuckled again. Bianca's face softened and she put the remote down. Approaching the glass, she crouched to be eye-level with her sister-in-law,

"I don't want to have to do this, you know? I'm not a monster."

Delilah blew a raspberry. Bianca's eyes hardened,

"Fine. Be that way. I'm giving you a chance to be a part of the greatest scientific discovery of all time. But go ahead, be ungrateful."

Destined for greatness...

Ted opened the door and Cleo brushed past him, invading his home, calling for Delilah. Harley emptied his plants on the floor, carefully looking into each of the pots. He looked on, bewildered.

Bianca walked away and Delilah heard the now familiar beep of the secure door. Bianca had switched the lights off, leaving Delilah in the iridescent glow of the portal and pink threads of light from the orb.

Harley knocked the pictures off the walls one by one, making sure Delilah wasn't hiding behind them. Cleo explained to Ted that Delilah had disappeared. He didn't know where she was and didn't seem too concerned, "My siblings go off the grid all the time." Cleo shook him by the shoulders, "They also die all the time! Ted, she could be hurt!"

Ted looked past her, yelling, "Hey! You can't go in there!" Harley kicked the door to Bianca's office down,

"Oops!"

Delilah closed her eyes, splaying her hand flat against the glass. She took a steadying breath, concentrating on her fingertips. Feel the empty spaces, feel the empty spaces... she tried to phase and fill those spaces, fitting her atoms in between, but the plasma made it impossible. It felt like she was pushing the matching poles of two magnets together. She sighed, trying to push herself up out of the puddle, the sloping sides of the globe making it difficult. She gave up, pulling her knees up to her chest.

She was a little girl again, sobbing quietly in the dark.

#not an orb id like to ponder #delilah krill #delilah #wallflower #harley quinn #cleo cazo #dceu oc #abner krill #polka dot man #self insert #the suicide squad #the suicide squad oc #fanfic #emetophobia #vomit tw #dr bianca krill #text #i figured it out!

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parkersbliss · 4 years

Text

Toast | P. Parker

pairing: Peter Parker X Female Reader

warnings: no-no words, mean girls, me attempting to write about chemistry class when I have never taken it, inaccurate representations of teacher

wc; 2.5K

synopsis: no matter how many times she tries to ruin your reputation, Peter is always there to save you.

a/n: I got really carried away with this oops??

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

It was obvious that Daisy didn't like you. Anyone within a mile radius could tell by the seething glares she gave you. It wasn't like you did anything to provoke her, at least, not that you knew of. As far as you were concerned, she just didn't like you, always trying to get on your nerves somehow, but you were always taught to be kind to everyone and you were, even to Daisy, which was a plus because it pissed her off. She was sweet to all of your friends, especially Peter, in fact, she seemed very interested in Peter. But that wasn't any of your business, and Peter clearly expressed his distaste to her. Which is funny because, if anything, everyone loved Daisy. Boys and girls begged to go on dates with her. And if you didn't like her like that, you probably wanted to be her. Well except you, Peter, Ned, Betty, and MJ.

"I heard she's not actual blonde," Betty gossiped, sitting down next to MJ who snorted at her comment.

"That would explain why her hair looks a bit off."

You didn't make any commentary, shugging you pick up your apple and bite into it. Peter sits down next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours.

"Hi Peter," You said.

"Hi beautiful," He replies, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. The two of you weren't big on kissing in public, it was just, not weird, but you didn't want to share something like that in front of others.

"Gross," MJ joked, looking up from her book and offering her friends a smile.

"at least I don't suck her face off like every other couple here," Peter said, nodding his head to a random couple that was practically fucking. MJ gags, turning back toward her book and tuning out the world again. Peter wordlessly gives you his hand, knowing you just liked to hold and fidget with it. There were many perks to dating Peter and this was one of them, he just knew. You all sat there talking about the day and upcoming projects when there was a clicking of heels.

"Here comes the demon queen," Betty muttered, rolling her eyes as she excuses herself to throw her lunch away. Ned stifles a laugh at her remark as Daisy approaches Peter.

"Peter!" Daisy exclaimed and you have to try not to die at the sound of her overly enthusiastic voice.

"Hi Daisy," Peter said, not matching her tone. Instead, his voice was monotone, mouth set in a straight line as he greeted the blonde. She makes no notice and ignores the rest of your friends, keeping her focus on Peter. You squeeze his hand softly and he squeezes back in reassurance.

"Did you want something?" He asked, the faintest hint of annoyance in his voice. Daisy smiles, twisting a lock of her blonde (well, maybe not blonde) hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes at Peter, "No, I just wanted to talk with you. As friends." She glances at you gauging for your reaction, but you make none. She frowns, only for a second, before squeezing between you and Peter, practically shoving you off your seat.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," Daisy grins.

You smile at her, knowing very well she was just trying to get you to snap, "It's okay!" You said, making sure you sounded extra cheery and not all bothered. "I should get to Calc anyway! I'll meet you there, Peter?"

Peter nods his head and you pick up your lunch, tossing the remains into the trash before exiting the room, leaving Daisy fuming.

...

"How do you do it, Peter?" You ask breathlessly. You wanted to collapse, body feeling like it was going to shut down at any minute. And somehow Peter was still going at it, was he even sweating? Your boyfriend laughs, slowing down the smallest bit.

You whine, "Peter, seriously, I can't take this!"

Peter stops, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for you to catch up with him.

"You're so dramatic, baby," He said, bumping you.

"Oh I'm sorry, Peter, but some of us don't have freaking superpowers!" You huffed, finally catching your breath. MJ jogs past you guys, sticking out her tongue, "Slowpokes!"

Peter rolls his eyes, "That's just because (Y/N) here can't take it."

"You're right, I can't. You might as well carry me," You sigh dramatically, putting a hand to your forehead and pretending to collapse.

Peter fake gasps, getting down on his knees next to you, "Oh no, whatever shall I do?"

"I can't go any further, you must carry me!"

Peter laughs beside you, "Oh my poor baby."

"Indeed, very poor." You stick out your bottom lip, forming a pout.

The P.E teacher blows their whistle, pointing at the two of you and you both scramble to get up and start jogging again. You maintain a steady pace this time, Peter slowing down enough to stay by your side. Your hands occasionally brush together from your proximity. Eventually, you get fed up with it and just grab his hand, making Peter blush. You continue to run, too caught up in the way your footsteps fall in perfect sync together, hands swinging beside each other, too notice a foot stuck in the middle of your path. Your legs fall out from beneath you and Peter grips your hand a bit tighter, trying to pull you back towards him, but instead trips himself and loses his grip on you. The pavement smacks down on your skin and you hiss at the feeling of torn skin.

"Shit, shit, shit," Peter panics, crouching beside you. "Are you okay? That was a dumb question, you're bleeding. Okay, do you think you broke anything?"

You shake your head no, looking up to see the source of the foot, you're not surprised when you see Daisy. Peter follows your gaze, looking at the blonde, she notices.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there," She said.

Peter's gaze hardens, "Yeah right, Daisy."

"What do you mean?"

"You obviously did it on purpose," Peter calls her out, a bit fed up with the way she treats his girlfriend. You rest an arm on his bicep, a silent reminder that it was okay. He turns toward you and you give him a reassuring smile, "Whatever, Daisy. Just get the coach, please."

She scoffs, giving you a dirty look, but leaving to retrieve the teacher.

"You shouldn't let her treat you like that, babe," Peter said, sweeping a few strands of hair out of your face.

"It's fine, plus, now I get to have you carry me bridal style to the infirmary."

Peter chuckles, picking you up in his arms, "lucky girl, you are."

"The luckiest."

...

Peter scribbled down the equation from the board into his notebook, glancing back up to make sure it was correct.

"Tell me it again," You said, leaning over his shoulder to read the instructions. Peter repeats the chemical mixture to you and you count the tubes and check there labels, ensuring you had everything.

"Okay, yup, we have all the ingredients."

Peter gives you a small smile, "let's get started then." He picks up the first chemical, checking the label, before pouring it into the small beaker. You step back letting your boyfriend do the work because the last time you tried it you almost burnt your hand. Peter grabs two more tubes, mixing them before lifting the glass beaker and inspecting it. The mixture is a bright purple color like the instructions said it would be.

"Does it look purple to you, babe?" Peter asked.

"No, Parker, it looks fucking green," you said. Peter rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you. "God, you're so helpful. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You give Peter an innocent smile, "You'd be a mess."

"Says the one that almost burnt her hand the last time we did a lab."

"It was one time."

"Don't forget the toast."

"Do not bring my toast into this Parker."

You two stare at each other for a minute before bursting out laughing, causing the entire classroom to look at the two of you, haunched over in laughter. Peter catching his breath only to look back up at you, your face scrunched in laughter and doubling over again. Your teacher coughs loudly and you both try to hold in your giggles.

"Care to explain what's so funny?"

"Toast!" You blurt out, throwing you and Peter into another fit of laughter.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Peter said, "we're almost finished, I swear."

Your teacher only nods, knowing you and Peter were very trustworthy students. Just young and in love. You and Peter finally compose yourselves, Peter giggling as he picks up the beaker and places it carefully above the burner. The mixture bubbles a bit, while Peter using a gloved hand, scans his notes for further directions.

"It says here to-"

"(Y/N)!" A high pitched voice yells, making you sigh quietly. Peter notices your face and finds your hand, squeezing it lightly. You turn around, painting on a somewhat smile, "Yeah Daisy?"

She glances down at her feet, shuffling them a bit, "Look I know we're not friends, but I could really use help on this lab and you're really smart?"

Peter's head peeks over your shoulder, his hand discreetly pulling you against him as he pecks your shoulder, "She seems serious."

You hum lightly, removing his hands from your waist, which Daisy takes no notice of as she's too busy pretending her heels are much more interesting.

"I'll help."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Daisy smiles at you and leads you over to her table, leaving Peter to complete the lab himself, but it's not like you were doing anything other than keeping him entertained. You glance at your notes, gathering the proper ingredients, and helping Daisy to mix them. Surprisingly, she's nice towards you, her normal hostile personality disappearing. You turn around after mixing the last ingredients into the beaker, scanning your notes for further instructions.

"Give a good shake," You mumble to yourself. Unbeknownst to you, when your back is turned Daisy drops another chemical into the beaker, a small sizzling sound coming from it, causing you to turn around, "What was that?"

"Just one of the other bunsen burners, we shake the mixture and then heat it, right?"

You nod your head, opening your mouth to give her further instructions when Peter crosses over.

"Hey guys," He said.

"Hi," You reply, turning to face him and missing the way Daisy rolls her eyes. "we were just about to start shaking and then heating it."

Peter nods, "Don't let me interrupt you two."

"You can start shaking Daisy," You offer, but she shakes her head and passes you the beaker.

"I'm good, thanks."

You shrug and begin to gently swirl the mixture, rotating your wrist in a counter-clockwise motion. When nothing happens, you set it down on the counter to turn on the burner. You let it heat up for a bit before reaching to grab the beaker when Peter stops you.

"Wait," He whispered. You give him a quizzical look and he motions towards the bubbles forming in your mixture.

"Did you mix this enough?" Daisy asked, approaching the beaker.

"Yeah, I di-"

She scoffs, sharply cutting you off, "No, you didn't. I should've done it myself." She picks up the beaker, doing the same motion with her wrist but a little more aggressive.

"Daisy that's not a very good idea," You warn.

"Why? Just give it a few more seconds and then I'll hand it to you."

"Daisy I don't-"

"God, do you ever shut up?" She asked, annoyed. You take a step back, frowning at her outburst, but you knew her better. Peter grabs your waist pulling you back toward him.

"Stupid mixture," Daisy mumbled, looking into the beaker when suddenly it erupts dousing her in bright purple foam. She screams, dropping the beaker on the ground, spraying the rest of the mix all over the floor.

"Oh my god," You said, covering your mouth.

Daisy stomps her foot on the ground, the liquid splashing as she wipes the foam from her face.

"You bitch!" She snarls, stalking toward you.

"I didn't-"

"You knew what I did!"

Your eyebrows pinch together, "I- what? No, I was trying to tell you it was going to explode."

"You knew I spiked the mixture so you made sure I'd end up with it!"

"You did what?"

Daisy shrieks again, "why are you always messing up my plans? Can't something bad happen to you once!"

Peter steps in front of you, pushing you behind him.

"Don't talk to her like that."

Daisy's eyes burn into Peter and she smirks, "You know she likes you right? She has this huge crush on you, It's painfully obvious. God, I feel so bad for her."

You and Peter both look at each other before he turns back toward a fuming Daisy, "I sure hope so, otherwise this would be really awkward."

"What?" She asked stupidly.

"It would be kind of weird if my girlfriend didn't like me," Peter shrugs, a smile playing on his lips.

Dasiy clenches and unclenches her jaw at that, "You're dating?"

Peter nods grabbing your hand in his, "didn't you know? After all, it was painfully obvious." He mocked her.

Daisy clicks her tongue, turning away from you both.

"Miss Lockwood, care to explain?" The teacher inquires.

"Ask them," She sassed, giving you and Peter a dirty look and stomping out of the room, but not before she slips. Her feet fly into the air as she lands in her mess, making her cry out in frustration.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" She screamed. The teacher gave her a cold look to which she replied, "Detention, Detention, I know." Before finally exiting the room.

...

"No way!" Betty exclaimed as you and Peter told her what had gone down in chemistry yesterday.

"Karma's a real bitch," MJ laughed, for once not having a book in her face.

You all laugh with her as Peter slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him, "At least she doesn't bother my girl here anymore, all she does is give us pathetic glares."

You slap Peter's chest and he lets out a small ow, rubbing the area.

"Be nice!" You hiss.

"After all the shit she put you through, I think I'm being quite polite with my comment."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"It's normally your kisses."

"Ew Peter!" You said, pushing him away from you.

Peter purses his lips out, "C'mon, let me kiss you!"

"No way mister!"

"Kiss her! Kiss her!" Ned, Betty, and MJ chant.

You roll your eyes at their childish antics, "You're not helping."

"Not trying too," Ned replied.

Peter takes the chance to gently cup your face and press a kiss to your lips. Much to your dismay, you kiss back, hands flying to the back of his neck as his lips press against yours.

"You're gross," You said after he pulled away, crossing your arms over your chest and sticking your tongue out at him.

Peter chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as you break into a grin, cheeks on fire.

"Love you too baby."

— END —

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