Having many thoughts about a scenario where Ellie Sattler has an adopted daughter who’s grown up and is doing a post-doc with Alan Grant, because who else would she do it under? That man is practically family.
Yk who else is doing their post-doc research? Henry Loomis.
The moment girlie clocks that he’s a sweetheart and a nerd, she’s locked in. That man WILL be hers.
But Henry is oh-so anxious and doesn’t want to get entangled with her bc he has sooo much respect for his mentor, Dr. Grant. She’s practically Alan’s daughter!
So our poor paleo boy pines, but keeps things respectful until one night, when everyone’s tucking in for bed, their respective trailer-mates decide to get it on, sideways mambo style in Henry’s trailer.
Henry walks up to the trailer, hears noise, then nopes out. While he contemplates where to sleep, our girl snatches him up, takes no complaints, and brings him back to her trailer. Can’t have him freezing ofc.
A lil talk leads to another thing, then BOOM! Pining turns to talking, then to them in bed with no clothes.
Dr. Henry Loomis was many things: a summa cum laude graduate, student of the renowned Alan Grant, museum exhibition manager, and briefly an advisor to Parker-Genix. He’d made it through a Spinosaurus-Mosasaurus ambush, touched a Titanosaurus, nearly been pecked to death by a Quetzalcoatlus, fallen from a cliff, and been chased by mutant dinosaurs that shouldn’t have existed. Three spec-ops (they were totally mercenaries) had died on that island mission, yet he’d survived and kept his glasses intact. And after all that… he was pretty sure his partner was gonna be the death of him.
“You want me to what?” he squeaked, feeling the tips of his ears heat up.
Down on the ground, you were perched comfortably between Henry’s legs, eyelashes fluttering anything but innocently. Your cheek rested on his thigh so casually that one would think you belonged there (you did, and you’d swear that under oath).
“You heard me, Loomis,” you cooed, lips twisting into what could only be described as a Cheshire Cat grin. “Talk nerdy to me.”
The paleontologist blinked owlishly from behind his round spectacles. Part of him was wondering if he’d gotten concussed during the fall on that island and was just now starting to feel the effects. Definitely possible, since he totally should’ve.
It wasn’t that Henry had never been propositioned before–look at the man. Who wouldn’t want to climb all 5’11” (180.34 cm, since he’s a man of science) like a tree? No, it was more so that his current partner was just fucking insane.
When he’d first met you, the first words out of your mouth were, “Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you.” He was just a man, a man at work who nearly dropped his clipboard out of sheer shock. But maybe he was a bit insane as well, since soon he was your boyfriend, or as you called him, “paleo boy”.
Which brings us back to the present.
“I assume that means you want me to talk about dinosaurs, but… do you have to be between my legs while I do it?” he asked, feeling a warmth more intense than the one in his ears start to pool in his gut. The current sight of you was very suggestive, but he had no clue if you were just being yourself or being yourself + horny. It was always a toss-up.
“Henryyyy, that’s the whole point,” you drawled, eyeing the bulge in his slacks. There had been less hunger radiating off the mutant dinosaurs that tried to eat him.
The bespeckled man pulled out his can of Altoids and shoved some in his mouth. Despite the icy coolness of the mints, his groin still felt like it was throbbing with heat. “Go ahead,” he groaned after he finished crunching the little white candies.
That was all you needed to hear, hands making quick work of Henry’s belt. There was an audible hitch in his throat as his boxers were exposed, including the little wet patch from his pre-cum. “Call me a paleontologist as well, because I’m about to unearth this bone,” you said with a laugh, tossing his pants aside.
“Why do I love y–f-fuuuuck…” As soon as you coaxed his cock out and wrapped your lips around the blushing tip, he was melting like butter. Blunt nails dug into the couch cushions, gripping onto them like he’d done with the cliff ledge.
You just smiled and pulled off, kissing the pearly drop of pre that was already beading up again. “C’mon, paleo boy,” you crooned, spitting a dollop of saliva onto your hand so you could work his aching shaft. “Asked you to talk nerdy to me. If you don’t, I’ll stop.”
For a moment, he just stared at you, slack-jawed, like you were an angel, the devil, or both. “Fine,” he gasped out, knowing you weren’t bluffing about blue-balling him. Another moan bubbled in the back of his throat as your wrist twisted ever so slightly. “What ngh period?”
“Hmm…” An absent-minded hum vibrated through you as you mulled over your three options. All the while, your hand languidly pumped up and down, filling the living room with slick, lewd noises. It was just enough to make Henry’s nerves tingle, but not sufficient to bring him closer to release. “How about Cretaceous?”
When your hand started to slow down even more, he blurted out, “Pachycephalosaurus.” As a reward, you dragged your tongue up one of the yummy-looking veins that adorned his cock, dragging a deep, shuddering moan from the depths of his soul. “I-it’s a herbivorous ah ornithiscian that lived about seventy million years ago.”
Now that Henry was getting started, so could the real fun. His hips jumped when you suddenly took the tip back into your warm, wet mouth, suckling oh-so sinfully. “Back in the 1870s, Joe–god, please more,” he whimpered, resisting the urge to push more of his length between your slick, accommodating lips. His restraint was laudable, but his begging, however cute, didn’t sound like an info dump. Slowly, you started to draw your head back, much to his despair.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the brown-eyed man whined, trying desperately to recollect his thoughts, which was hard, considering you seemed to be trying to suck them straight out of his dick. “Back in the hngh 1870s, Joseph Leidy named a taxon Tylosteus ornatus because of a bone fragment that he mmm thought was reptile armor. That bone f-fragment was later determined to be part of a Pachycephalosaurus’s skull–the squamosal part, to be specific. Please keep on going.”
Much better. Your tongue swirled around his weeping tip, teasing at the leaking hole until his honeyed moans were coming out in full force. And it was beautiful because Henry Loomis moaned like a whore. His lashes fluttered behind his glasses, and his tendons tensed deliciously in his neck as he practically sobbed something about Stygimoloch spinifer, Dracorex hogwartsia, and potential juvenile skulls. In return, you took more of him, hollowing your cheeks until his hips were bucking softly.
Henry tried–he really did–to keep rattling off the factoids that he’d spend hundreds upon hundreds of hours researching, but he was just sooo helpless to the pleasure that you sent tearing through him. The moment words turned to just moans, you were off of his dick, letting it slap against the slutty, little sweater he’d worn to work that day.
He looked like he was going to cry.
“Henry, Henry,” you tutted, giving him a look of faux disappointment. He met your gaze, pupils blown wide and chest heaving in shallow, little pants. Sweat lined his hairline, trickling slowly down to his jaw. Yummy. “You were doing so well. Don’t tell me you don’t want to cum.”
An honest to god whine reverberated from the back of his throat.
“I do! I’m trying so hard, love,” he groaned, words coming out slurred. The poor man knew that if he didn’t get himself together, he’d be having a sad, not as sexy date with his hand tonight. “Just one more chance. I’ll be good. I’ll be so, so good.”
Who could say no to that?
Your hands braced on the paleontologist’s thighs, giving them an indulgent squeeze. “Hope that brain of yours keeps up this time,” was all you said before finally taking him wholly into your mouth.
For a brief moment, Henry couldn’t breathe. All he could discern was the rush of heat that spread from his cock to the rest of his body until he felt feverish. When his vision cleared, he saw you with hearts in your eyes and your nose buried in his trimmed pubes. It was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen, more so than the wild Titanosauruses.
“Kingdom: animalia. Phylum: chor–oh my goddd–chordata,” he choked out, defaulting to rambling scientific classification. Remembering history was too big of an ask at the moment. “Cl-clade: dinosauria, ornithiiiiscia… pachycephalosauri–hahh.”
As Henry struggled through family, tribe, and genus, you began to bob your head, mixing the sloppy noise of your mouth gliding up and down his shaft with his symphony of moans. He was shaking now, eyes glossy with pleasured tears, and glasses crooked on his nose. Whatever facts he was spewing from his lips were random streams of consciousness at this point, because he would probably perish on the spot if you stopped. And this wasn’t a riverbed with silt.
Pleased, you continued your torturous ministrations, removing one hand from his tensed thighs to gently fondle his taut balls. That was his undoing. Henry practically wept, “The only d-definitive type species is the P. wyomingensis! Shit! Cumminggg…”
You felt his cock twitch once, then twice in your mouth, releasing sporadic spurts of his cum while he cradled your cheeks with the same care he’d use with an excavated fossil, whimpering something delirious. God, he was a vision, dark hair mussed with sweat and head tipped back in ecstasy.
“F-fuckkkk, I love you,” Henry mumbled in his blissed out state, finally regaining some coherency. His head weakly tilted forward, witnessing you as you drew off with a soft pop and swallowed down his essence. You were too damn hot for your own good.
Smiling, you pushed yourself to your feet and kissed his bearded jaw before going over to the kitchen and getting two glasses of water. When you returned, Henry’s hands were trembling, so you held the cup for him as he drank in greedy gulps.
“So sweet,” he said breathlessly, pulling you into his side as soon as his cup was set aside. “You're perfect.” The light scratch of his scruff as he rubbed his cheek against your shoulder made you laugh fondly.
“You make it sound like we’re done here,” you purred, carding your fingers through his dark, damp locks. “Once you recover, we’re doing this again, but this time, I’m going to ride you.”
In an instant, the sleepy post-oral haze was gone. Desire was once again stoked in his core, the sensation completely at odds with the logical part of his brain, which was screaming that he couldn’t survive this ordeal again. “Y-you’re going to what?” he stammered.
A lazy grin just graced your lips as you grabbed his pants from the coffee table (he hadn’t even noticed them landing there), then pulled out his Altoids, popping one in your mouth. “Love you,” you giggled, pulling Henry into a kiss.
‘Definitely the devil,’ he thought to himself while your tongue gently pushed the candy into his mouth. ‘But I still love them.’
A/N: Thank you for reading!
And ty to @swimmingnightcolor, who made me wanna write faster. I wrote this as fast as I could (which is not fast for most, but it is for me)
And another ty to @inadreamgirl. When I stumbled upon their post and saw that their vision aligned with mine, I knew I had to write this.
dr henry loomis is so cute ugh i want him to talk to me about different sub species of dinosaurs and all these facts but struggling to talk because im sucking him off and if he stops talking i stop so if he wants to cum he has to keep talking
I watched the movie and he’s perfect. He seems like a Normal Guy, but he’s actually kinda fuckin’ insane, just lowkey about it.
The moment he said he wanted to die in shallow water and be covered in silt because it’s the best conditions for fossilization, I wanted to drop down on my knees and suck the soul out of him while he recites dinosaur facts.
And don’t get me started on him wanting to give the DNA to the people instead of a corporation. That’s so hot and anti-capitalist of him.
Bruce is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce does not want to be one of the richest men in world.
He starts by implementing high starting salaries and full health care coverages for all levels at Wayne Enterprises. This in vastly improves retention and worker productivity, and WE profits soar. He increases PTO, grants generous parental and family leave, funds diversity initiatives, boosts salaries again. WE is ranked “#1 worker-friendly corporation”, and productively and profits soar again.
Ok, so clearly investing his workers isn’t the profit-destroying doomed strategy his peers claim it is. Bruce is going to keep doing it obviously (his next initiative is to ensure all part-time and contractors get the same benefits and pay as full time employees), but he is going to have to find a different way to dump his money.
But you know what else is supposed to be prohibitively expensive? Green and ethical initiatives. Yes, Bruce can do that. He creates and fund a 10 year plan to covert all Wayne facilities to renewable energy. He overhauls all factories to employ the best environmentally friendly practices and technologies. He cuts contracts with all suppliers that engage in unethical employment practices and pays for other to upgrade their equipment and facilities to meet WE’s new environmental and safety requirements. He spares no expense.
Yeah, Wayne Enterprises is so successful that they spin off an entire new business arm focused on helping other companies convert to environmentally friendly and safe practices like they did in an efficient, cost effective, successful way.
Admittedly, investing in his own company was probably never going to be the best way to get rid of his wealth. He slashes his own salary to a pittance (god knows he has more money than he could possibly know what to do with already) and keeps investing the profits back into the workers, and WE keeps responding with nearly terrifying success.
So WE is a no-go, and Bruce now has numerous angry billionaires on his back because they’ve been claiming all these measures he’s implementing are too expensive to justify for decades and they’re finding it a little hard to keep the wool over everyone’s eyes when Idiot Softheart Bruice Wayne has money spilling out his ears. BUT Bruce can invest in Gotham. That’ll go well, right?
Gotham’s infrastructure is the OSHA anti-Christ and even what little is up to code is constantly getting destroyed by Rogue attacks. Surely THAT will be a money sink.
Except the only non-corrupt employer in Gotham city is….Wayne Enterprises. Or contractors or companies or businesses that somehow, in some way or other, feed back to WE. Paying wholesale for improvement to Gotham’s infrastructure somehow increases WE’s profits.
Bruce funds a full system overhaul of Gotham hospital (it’s not his fault the best administrative system software is WE—he looked), he sets up foundations and trusts for shelters, free clinics, schools, meal plans, day care, literally anything he can think of.
Gotham continues to be a shithole. Bruce Wayne continues to be richer than god against his Batman-ingrained will.
Oh, and Bruice Wayne is no longer viewed as solely a spoiled idiot nepo baby. The public responds by investing in WE and anything else he owns, and stop doing this, please.
Bruce sets up a foundation to pay the college tuition of every Gotham citizen who applies. It’s so successful that within 10 years, donations from previous recipients more than cover incoming need, and Bruce can’t even donate to his own charity.
But by this time, Bruce has children. If he can’t get rid of his wealth, he can at least distribute it, right?
Except Dick Grayson absolutely refuses to receive any of his money, won’t touch his trust fund, and in fact has never been so successful and creative with his hacking skills as he is in dumping the money BACK on Bruce. Jason died and won’t legally resurrect to take his trust fund. Tim has his own inherited wealth, refuses to inherit more, and in fact happily joins forces with Dick to hack accounts and return whatever money he tries to give them. Cass has no concept of monetary wealth and gives him panicked, overwhelmed eyes whenever he so much as implies offering more than $100 at once. Damian is showing worrying signs of following in his precious Richard’s footsteps, and Babs barely allows him to fund tech for the Clocktower. At least Steph lets him pay for her tuition and uses his credit card to buy unholy amounts of Batburger. But that is hardly a drop in the ocean of Bruce’s wealth. And she won’t even accept a trust fund of only one million.
Jason wins for best-worst child though because he currently runs a very lucrative crime empire. And although he pours the vast, vast majority of his profits back into Crime Alley, whenever he gets a little too rich for his tastes, he dumps the money on Bruce. At this point, Bruce almost wishes he was being used for money laundering because then he’s at least not have the money.
So children—generous, kindhearted, stubborn till the day they die the little shits, children—are also out.
Bruce was funding the Justice League. But then finances were leaked, and the public had an outcry over one man holding so much sway over the world’s superheroes (nevermind Bruce is one of those superheroes—but the public can’t know that). So Bruce had to do some fancy PR trickery, concede to a policy of not receiving a majority of funds from one individual, and significantly decrease his contributions because no one could match his donations.
At his wits end, Bruce hires a team of accounts to search through every crinkle and crevice of tax law to find what loopholes or shortcuts can be avoided in order to pay his damn taxes to the MAX.
The results are horrifying. According to the strictest definition of the law, the government owes him money.
Bruce burns the report, buries any evidence as deeply as he can, and organizes a foundation to lobby for FAR higher taxation of the upper class.
All this, and Wayne Enterprises is happily chugging along, churning profit, expanding into new markets, growing in the stock market, and trying to force the credit and proportionate compensation on their increasingly horrified CEO.
Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce Wayne will never not be one of the richest men in the world.
Can we talk about the amazing characterization of Engen in chapter 86??
Cause I feel like that was slept on by a LOT of people. Maybe I'm just a feral little bitch about this series but hear me out.
First of all, Engen went through the trouble of seeking out Nugal. He had to track him down (or at least use information networks) to find his old ally in hopes of getting him to rejoin his cause.
Second of all, even after saying that Nugal had gotten weak (that's not very nice my morally atrocious bbg), Engen still wanted him to join him despite the decrease in power. Is that sentimentality I see?
Third of all, he speaks respectfully to Nugal. "I really need your help." Like damn. Engen mouths off to Elders (still calls Yushin sir) but will tell this dude that he needs help. That's so cute of him.
Fourth of all comes from Nugal himself. Engen got his ass beat by the Steel Witch. This is indisputable. He and the rest of Nera got beat so hard it prob crippled Nera. Like she slaughtered them without breaking a sweat. Most people were demoralized, but according to Nugal, Engen's resolve is still strong. That's badass. It's also why Nugal and Roxanne admired him so much.
Last but not least, THE THING THAT MAKES ME FERAL. After Nugal sets himself on fire and turns to ash, Engen kneels on the ground and grabs a handful of his ashes. He's clenching his fist and remembering how Nugal was in the past. HE IS MOURNING. THE SMILING MAN WHO SHEDS NO BLOOD OR TEARS IS MOURNING. He looked at those ashes with the stoic sadness of someone who lost a loyal friend, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED. Engen clearly values loyalty and had a soft spot in his heart for Nugal who has always had absolute faith in him, even as he died.
TELL ME THIS ISN'T A SAD BOI
HE WAS GRIEVING SO MUCH
So yeah, it was a bomb ass chapter for the Engen fans (read: me) and I feel like it was overshadowed by badass kid Ihwa.
