Hi! Can you write medic x fem reader nsfw hcs?(Breeding kink in it pretty please?)
Medic x Reader NSFW HCs
Hi anon. Sozzz I took such a long time to write this I got so wired into college D: ryt now I'm writing at 5AM hitting the chocolate vape and missing my mint vape so, enjoy this!
Sorry if it's so short. I'm squeamish.
I've always seen Medic as the kind of guy to have a thing for blood . . . Take that as you will.
I always imagined him being a bit sadistic when it comes; tying you to the table (with consent, of course!) and cutting you open while you're still awake. With the help of the medigun and some helpful painkillers, you don't feel any pain! He touches parts of your organs, exploring you, while you squirm underneath him. He loves this.
You getting a wound would probably turn him on.
Pretty cliché but Medic loves medical play. He tries to incorporate a sense of his passion for medicine and the like into your guys' sex, but it's alright if you prefer it vanilla. He can adapt.
He can be as gentle and as loving as possible, but when he's riled up and itching for an orgasm he WILL go crazy on you. Fast thrusts, no mercy, hair-pulling, even.
He would definitely breed you. For two reasons: the idea of him emptying himself inside you gets him off and makes him go twice as fast, and he wants to observe you while you're pregnant!
He LOVES the generic roleplay of 'I'm the patient and there's something wrong with me, I need your help!'. He would be so invested in the role because it comes naturally to him.
Medic's favorite positions are when you're bent over a table at his mercy, and when you're riding him—he can admire your anatomical build!
Aftercare? Absolutely. Medic knows he can get a bit rough during sex, so he makes sure to 'repair' whatever damage he's done to you. Don't worry, he'll take full care of you—it's his job, anyways!
Hi! I love your tf2 fics. Can I request a sniper x reader where he and the reader casually talk in the base and turns out they have similar hobbies? Like when sniper used to be a big game hunter, so he has to have survival skills and know the nature well. The reader fishes, knows nature (plants, animals, mushrooms) but has never hunted so sniper invites her to teach her hunting over the weekend. They hunt a hare or something. I want this to be fluffy and sniper being genuinely impressed with the reader knowledge and her way around nature. I think he puts the character and brains way over looks and similarities between him and the reader are much more important, so they start to feel different about each other, sniper especially
Sniper x Reader | Hunting
Hello! So sorry this came out so late… nearly a week late, in fact. It’s midterms week at the moment and i figured i needed to focus on reviewing etc. still midterms so im still gonna be busy, but have this!! Hope you enjoy, anon. :)
Tbh, at first, i see sniper acting indifferent…towards you; he wouldnt particularly care about you— well, it’s not that he doesn’t care (if you were dying he’d try his best to help) you just werent anything special/different to him compared to the others
It wasnt until he overheard you talking with the rest about fishing, nature; particularly telling Engineer facts about nature, stories of what youve stumbled upon, that he realized you two shared similarities
He starts to approach you more often, asking about your experiences, if you camp, and you answer with confidence to everything—
“Gone fishin’?” He asked, “yep. Pretty good at it, actually,”
“Do campin’ trips?” He asked, “duh. That’s where I experienced most of those stories i told you,”
“I see… how about huntin’? Ever hunted before?”
“…”
Is shy about it, but would definitely invite you to a camping trip (including a lesson taught by him about hunting!)
You oblige, and the two of you immediately set a date— the day after! It was your week off anyways; you could do whatever you wanted
Car ride to the area’s fine; sniper likes to stay quiet and just play music. If he sees something interesting, like an animal in the wild or if he has a fact he was able to dig up, he’d speak up about it— otherwise he’d just let you sleep
You help him with setting up camp, and so the hunting begins: definitely very sweet about teaching you how to do things, what items to use. Appreciates your own input on things, LOVES when you ask questions and he gets to nerd about it and explain it
“So ya just gotta hold it like this, sheila,” — his favorite nickname for you! But he loves calling you by your first name too
“Mm… things a bit too heavy,” you were holding a sniper rifle—HIS. ‘Course it was going to be heavy
Then he goes up behind you, presses his chest against your back and helps you aim, helps you support the damn thing
By the end of this whole ordeal, you two go home content with a catch of one rabbit! One that sniper was definitely gonna teach you how to cook later into the day
He does get comfier with you after this, telling you his name and a bit of his backstory
He’s still so curious about you — wants to go on more trips or know more ‘bout you before considering confessing to you, but the man definitely has a crush on you!
cartoonishly size difference soldier with a smaller reader that he fucking DOMANATES TO ALL HELL WITH HIS POWERFULL, AMERICAN MOULDED, ASS NAKED MANLY BODY!!!🔥💥🦅🪖🔥💥🔥🦅🪖💥🪖🔥🦅🔥💥
if you could pls and thank you :3
American Pride ||
A/N: hello, anon! gotchu!
CW: soldier x reader, smut, size difference kink
[nsfw under the cut!]
a grunt left soldier's lips as he bucked his hips upwards, with such abandon, with unbelievable aggression, meeting your hips. your eyes rolled into the back of your head from the wonderful sensation, your hands gripping at anything they possibly could around you - quite hard to do so with soldier's arms wrapped around your torso.
he was under you, the two of you in full-nelson... soldier held you down and fucked into you, and, in the position you were in, he was constantly hitting your g-spot. just a little more; just a little more of this and you could finish.
then, soldier's breathy voice met your ear: "look, cupcake!" he exclaimed, his head angled to look down at the erotic display of rough movement - his american pride. he reached a hand down to press down on your abdomen, pausing his thrusts for a bit before snapping his hips aggressively.
there it was. you could feel it. he chuckled when he felt it, as well, pressing against his palm - a bulge in your stomach.
"you're so much smaller than me, cupcake," he was breathless, his thrusts growing ragged and messy - "I'm going to fill you up so well, ya got that? I don't even know if you'd be able to handle it."
that was enough to make you orgasm. with his large fingers deliciously rubbing circles around your clit, you jolted upwards. he kept you down, however, with his free hand wrapped around your torso still.
finally, with one last thrust, he filled you up, stifling his groans and moans by shoving his face into the crook of your neck. all you could remember was the pleasure, the size of his hands; most especially his cock... how his whole arm easily hooked around your torso; how his thick fingers pressed against your clit.
he was definitely a big man, and he knew how to deliver to you.
Can I suggest the mercs having a really bad day (maybe even crying) and their s/o comforting them.
The s/o can be female or gn :)
Sniper, Soldier and Engineer
Sniper, Soldier and Engineer seeking comfort
Hello, anon! Sorry if this is shitty— no proofread, and I’m writing this on a trainnnn…
Sniper
Not usually the type to express his emotions freely; worries that him venting could bother you… would probably keep whatever’s bothering him inside ‘til he bursts… or, well, ‘til he forgets about it
Today, however, was especially hard— trigger-finger kept messing him; aim was terribly messy; spies. All he needed was to let it out, and, frankly, he didn’t know how to
You just see your lover walk into his camper van, disheveled and obviously tense. He doesn’t say anything, just proceeds to sit down on the bed beside you with his hat off, looking towards the ground
When you ask him what’s up… 50/50 he’ll say nothing or he’ll explain in the smallest detail what went wrong about his day
You can read him pretty well, however, and every ‘discussion’ about his terrible day would end with him in your arms, or laying his head on your lap
You’d stroke his hair, telling him that he did a good job today, that everything was fine; he’d nuzzle his face into you and stay silent, enjoying the feeling of being pampered
“Yer too nice to me, roo…” he’d mutter, and you’d smile at him, continuing your ministrations— “well, that’s because you deserve it,” is what you always say; and it was nothing far from the truth
Eventually he’d fall asleep, but not before muttering an “I love ya, darl’…”
Soldier
Would probably be incredibly pent-up about the others not taking him seriously. Would come around to you and VERBALLY express himself
Due to his more-aggressive nature, Soldier would probably… feel things at higher extents; he’s easily angered and could easily cry
He would however suppress his desires to cry because ‘lashing out and being angry’ = masculine; ‘crying’ = feminine
If you do spot him crying, however, he would— no hesitation— wrap his arms around you and rack your frame while sobbing into your chest
When you ask him what’s wrong, he’d explain to you in incomprehensible English mixed with hysterical sobbing and a slight hyperventilation (ALL WHILE SCREAMING!)
Could possibly get mad at you… which will in the long run make him feel worse
“… AND NO ONE WAS FOLLOWING MY ORDERS TODAY!” He’d yell, gripping onto your sleeves even tighter
Just pet his head, reassure him that he’s not annoying, and he’ll be good to go
With enough reassurance and help, though, he’ll manage to calm down; instead falling asleep in fetal position and (possibly… possibly!) with his thumb in his mouth.
Engineer
Engie is a well-collected person… he knows how to handle his anger on his own; knows how to keep it to himself (not because he doesn’t want to burden other people, but he would prefer keeping quiet for this reason, but because he just doesn’t see any benefit in rambling)
If he feels himself getting stressed at something, he’ll turn to his work— he’ll program something to give him that boost of dopamine that he’s actually done something right!
If, however, his stresses come from his work— say, an error or malfunction he can’t crack the code of— then he doesn’t know what else to do; he can’t be useless, damn it; he can’t get things wrong!
Come into his workshop to check on him; if you see him with his head in his hands, approach him and massage his shoulders
Engineer would immediately melt into your touch; he’d let out a sigh of relief indicating his relaxation and lift up his goggles to look at you. With a dreamy, tired smile, he’d say: “hey there, pretty thing,”
You’d then try to pry him away from his workdesk… which, if he’s absolutely stressed, would work— take him to your shared room, cuddle with him, and he’ll be good to go
As for crying, Dell seems too collected for that; even if he wanted to, I believe he just can’t bring himself to— not a matter of his view on masculinity; he just can’t
Hhhyello, friends! I write preferences (I have for other fandoms) but I’ve recently gotten back into TF2… Just dropping by to say that TF2 requests are open :]]
Notes:
Updates might be slow, due to the mere fact that I could be occupied with other forms of work
3 character MAX when requesting!
I will write:
Fluff, angst, lime, lemon
Scenarios, headcanons, imagines
Any kind of reader (as long as it abides by the standard of decency)
All 9 mercenaries + Miss Pauling
I will NOT write:
Full-length oneshots
Pedophilia, rape, incest
X OCs (your OC might be a little out of character when I write them)
Fandom: Team Fortress 2
Pairing: Heavy / Reader
Summary: Date a Heavy that begs you to sit on his face. The Heavy that spends so long eating you out you worry his tongue will go numb but don’t say anything because it feels so good, The Heavy that wraps his hands around your thighs and buries his face so deep in your loins it seems he may suffocate but the steady rhythm of his mouth tells you otherwise. Date the Heavy that makes you giggle at the soft ‘om nom nom’ noises he makes as he goes down on you.
Warnings: (18+) Sexual Content
“Are you certain, Misha?”
It wasn’t often you said those words to the mountain of a man. In fact, you couldn’t recall the last time you asked him that question. Heavy weapons guy was a man that was certain about most everything he did, but something about this particular scenario had you questioning that certainty.
He’d been asking – no, begging – you all week to get into this situation. What situation? To get you where you were currently: straddling his broad chest, his hands holding your thighs and thumbs patiently but eagerly caressing your bare skin as he waited for you to mount his face. Yes. The mercenary had been begging you all week to sit on his face so that he could devour you like a high-class meal.
Your lover smiled gently, albeit rolling his eyes a little and chuckling at your repeated question, but nodded firmly.
“Да, любовь моя. I am certain. You have nothing to worry about. Just let me please you, this evening.”
He was such a careful and caring lover, always wanting to take care of you above his own needs, no matter how primal or desperate, and tonight seemed to only serve that which you already knew. Despite his reassurance, you still hesitated in moving from your spot upon his chest, shifting a little as you purse your lips.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want this – quite the opposite, actually, with how wet you were growing below the belt – it was moreso the fact that you were a little self conscious of your own size. Face-sitting had definitely been on your bucket list of wants since you became sexually active, but every partner before Misha had ether been totally opposed to the concept or unwilling to have your full weight resting on their head. Thusly, those previous experiences had instilled your own sense of uncertainty towards this particular sexual adventure.
You’d never told your current lover about that part of your past, but he had always been the kind of man to read you like a book, so it became quickly clear that he was picking up on your anxious energy. His brows furrowed a little, giving a gentle squeeze to your thighs as he spoke up.
“Are you certain?”
Caring and careless, just as he always was, he turned your question back onto you. Intentionally or not, it pulls you out of your own thoughts and anxieties, focusing on Misha and settling back into the seduction of the moment. His sincere gaze sent your heart aflutter, reigniting the fire in your loins with a new, warmer spark that made you shiver with a shuddery gasp. The worries of the past were suddenly flying away. There was nothing to worry about here, this was a safe space, with someone you trusted and loved fully and wholly.
“Yes,” you replied simply, in turn.
Finally, you moved to accept your throne upon the large man’s face. Knees planted squarely on either side of his head, thighs already tingling wonderfully from the scrape of his facial hair, you hovered for a moment with gentle breaths, looking at one another with desire and interest sparkling in your gazes. But it seemed Heavy had enough of the ‘foreplay’ as his grip on your thighs tightened, firmly pulling you down until your full weight landed upon his face with a delighted, muffled groan that had you gasping in turn.
The man’s tongue was broad, voracious, and unwavering. It curled and rolled and swiped at every crevice and fold, hunting down each and every last drop of the essence that was wholly and purely you . Heavy ate you out like a man devout, and all you could do was croon and hold on to his headboard like your life depended on it.
For a while, all you could focus on was the intense, unfathomable pleasure that had a grip on every fiber of your being, but slowly you came into more clarity, feeling and listening to how your lover worked between your thighs. His head nodded with each swipe of his tongue, as if trying to get every possible inch of you. Each time your thighs gave a stronger quiver, usually accompanied by you crooning his name, it drew a pleased rumble from deep within his chest that only served to bring you more pleasure.
You hadn’t even realized how long he’d been under you until you glanced at the clock on his bedside table, a little rush of alertness soaring through your veins and instinctively making you lift yourself from his face to make sure he was still alright. However, your movements were brought to an abrupt stop by a strong pair of arms and hands. With no hesitation, Misha wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you somehow closer and pulling you right back down to his face, his face pressed so far against you it was a wonder he wasn’t on the brink of suffocating. But his mouth and rhythm were unwavering, strong and steady like he was in all aspects of life, giving you a rather pleasurable form of reassurance that he was more than fine where he was.
Your pleasure was a warm burn, slowly flaring up until orgasm finally sparked at the forefront of your mind. It made you wonder if this was what an out of body experience felt like, or if it was the exact opposite end of the spectrum and you were so innately aware of every little feeling in your body that you couldn’t comprehend it. Either way, what wondrous bliss.
Hunching over and panting, you gave a series of rapid pats to Heavy’s shoulder, alerting him to your oncoming orgasm along with your breathless cry of, “... close.”
But, oh, did that stop your partner? Not in the slightest. If anything, that only doubled his already immense vigor. Lecherous slurps and groans rumbled between your legs, and despite it being muffled, you could hear the man’s signature ‘om nom nom’.
Caught in the throes of incredible pleasure and ticklish delights at the sounds Misha made, you rode your intense tsunami of pleasure with a laugh in your throat, tears in the corners of your eyes, and insurmountable shivers racking your body. From between your thighs, heavy sighed with delight, sending little aftershocks through your core as he lapped up your mess nearly to the point of over-stimulation, only stopping when you started to whine uncomfortably.
Slowly, carefully, he sat upright, guiding you to lay back across his lower half and onto the bed, soothing his hands along your torso as you came back to clarity.
“H-holy shit…”
That was really all you could utter in the moment, caught up in the sight that was Misha leaned over you with your spend glistening upon his face, neck, and seeping into the collar of his shirt. He took your words and gaze in stride, and smiled with a warm chuckle, wiping his mouth off before leaning down to press a series of light kisses across your face.
“Will I have to beg next time?”
Next time?
Oh, this man was going to be the wonderful death of you.
tw: anger issues, s3xual content, borderline abuse
you've been warned, read at your own risk
I'm so sorry if this taints your view on sammy lawrence!! 😅figured I could write smth abt him that unglamorizes abuse in these kinds of stories. enjoy
-due to sammy's short temper, sammy would definitely take out his anger on you- after all, where else can he take it out on if not for you, the always available person for him?
-after his temper tantrums, it would take a while for him to come around and say sorry. if he even will, that is... but most of the time he leaves you crying on the floor in your own shame
-don't even try to reason with him, he'll hit you. seriously. it's been done before, and, unlike his temper tantrums, this is when he acts quickly- as you go down with a punch from him, he holds you, asks if you're okay, etc. . .
-as for sex, he would NOT care more or less about aftercare. he'd pass out immediately, probably due to the stress of the day etc but still. sometimes it makes you feel used, other times you're used to it.
-hc: one time, he said susie's name during the deed, and you tried to ignore it. he seemed to have forgotten about it anyways afterwards, but you definitely didn't
tw: extreme anger from sammy's end, self-inflicted harm, forceful revealing of scars
as sammy lawrence's assistant director, you really only have one job (because sammy tends to do everything on his own); to check on how the music plays alongside the film. during your first few days as an intern, you had some issues with syncing the music, but now that it's been a few months or so, this task has come naturally to you.
one day, however, tension within the studio was high, mainly because a short was destined to come out tomorrow (anytime tomorrow) and the music department was rushing to create songs for it. not to have a complex but you were extremely certain that it was only you and sammy that deserved a place in the credits, with how the other interns (including jack fain) failed to cooperate and contribute.
sammy was extremely on-edge that same evening, especially due to the sleep-deprivation catching up to him. desperately he wrote scores and edited notes to be performed and recorded by you both; you were somewhat afraid due to your knowledge about certain instruments being short and cut-off. you didn't want to press the man, especially not tonight.
however, after submitting a scene you synchronized the music to, sammy found out about a certain error- a song for an extremely crucial part was mixed up with another song. . . this angered sammy extremely, especially because he didn't necessarily have extra time on his hands to tweak it. feeling like his trust in you was misplaced, he called you over.
"(y/n), look at this. haven't we talked multiple times about this song being for this scene?!" his voice started to get louder as his anger continued to rise. "you have ONE thing to do, (y/n)! you're in the luckier end of the rope- try being in my shoes! if I were you, I wouldn't make a single mistake!"
somewhat scared, you grab onto the hem of your shirt and look down. nervously, you try to reason with him: "I-I'm sorry, there must have been an error in the syst-"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY ERRORS IN THE SYSTEM! who else is behind the system if not you?! God, you interns are useless." he spat back, his voice booming and echoing throughout the whole studio, probably letting other late-staying employees know that you were being yelled at. before you knew it, your eyes were glassy and filled with tears, and crying in front of your boss would be embarrassing. turning around and gathering the work you made a mistake on, you excuse yourself to the bathroom.
self-harm was something you found comfort in, sad to say. you always kept a blade inside a mini-notepad you'd stuff inside your pocket; it yearned to be used when sammy was screaming at you. sitting inside of a bathroom stall, you sink to the ground, roll down your sleeves, and prepare your arms.
your arms were already littered with scars; old, new. . . it didn't matter because no one noticed. you weren't a little kid anymore, having your parents check your wrists to see if you were still doing the "bad thing". you were an adult and did whatever you want. . . so here you were, doing just that.
you idolized sammy, and being the cause of his frustration-
one cut.
how could you? as his assistant, you're supposed to help him-
two cuts.
not anger him. not make his stress worse-
three cuts.
by then, your wrists were dripping with blood that you made sure couldn't touch your sleeves. you wash your wrists, your blade, and exit the bathroom almost like nothing ever happened.
you were stressed, too, and you didn't need sammy to know about how you got rid of it. he'd find you weird and tell joey and the others about you. you could lose your job and get send to a hospital or a clinic. sammy could laugh at you; all up in your face, and send you off to find a better intern.
you didn't want to think of sammy like that, but you knew he acted exactly like that.
as you entered the music department office, you noticed that sammy didn't even lift his head to check on who entered. he's probably extremely annoyed of me, you come to think as you take your seat. for the next few moments, work goes on an usual, before sammy lifts his head to look at something in a shelf above you.
"(y/n)," he said, stern, but definitely calmer than the last time he spoke to you, "see that book up there? music theory is its name. get it for me now."
with no answer on your behalf, you stand up and reach for it. although you do grab it, your sleeve rides up and for a second, your raw, red-tinted scars are revealed to your boss, who has been staring at you this entire time.
trying to brush it off while praying to God he didn't see your scars, you hand him the book with your sleeve being held tightly by your fingers. some blood presses on your sleeve for a bit.
"here, sir," you said.
"... (y/n)- what was that?" he asked, his tone agitated once more which gave you a sense of fear once more.
"what was what, sir-"
"no, don't try to play it off like that, I'm being serious-" he grabs your wrists and forcefully pulls your sleeve back. with a gasp, you cover your scars on your wrist with your other hand. sammy, however, easily pulls it off to reveal scars and new cuts.
"(y/n)." he says angrily, "what the fuck is this?"
"I..." you're brought to tears once again with his tone of voice and the sense of fear you feel within you. please don't yell at me, or tell on me. I'm not weird, I promise, you think as if he could hear you. "I just... they're old..."
he inspects your new cuts and shakes his head with furrowed brows. "these are not old, (y/n). stop lying. tell me now- why would you do this?"
"the pressure, sir." you managed to say, praying to God sammy won't ridicule you or compare your stresses to his. "I didn't want to be the main cause of your frustrations. it's not as bad as it seems, I don't do that religiously... it's just a way to get rid of stress."
it's quiet for a bit, before sammy sighs, gets up off his chair, and walks off. he comes back shortly after holding a first aid kit, sits down, and grasps your wrist...gently, this time. he opens the first aid kit, grabs for a cotton ball coated with betadine, and places it on your cuts.
you wince first, expecting it to sting (as usual, whenever you'd cut yourself). sammy lets out a chuckle at this- "it's betadine, (y/n). it's not supposed to sting."
"oh. right." is all you utter out.
it's silence once more, and sammy breaks this once more- "(y/n), I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier- I really hope these cuts aren't as bad as you make it, though. I was irritated, that's all. I'm sorry." he continues on, "you're not useless- you're far from that. you're a good intern, and a better assistant."
these words make your heart flutter. perhaps there was more to idolizing sammy lawrence than you knew- than it was platonic. perhaps there was a bit of romance in it; something you'd never admit to him- ever.
the night ends with this, and you return home with treated cuts and a much better feeling within you.
the next day is the premiere of the newest bendy episode- that stupid dancing demon, the cause of all your stress. all of the staff members watch intensely; sammy watches for any musical errors, joey watches for any animation errors- that kind of thing.
fortunately, the episode ends without any errors spoken by the heads, and all of the staff members rejoice. two interns in the far back high-five, and joey returns to his office with a more relieved and happy expression on his face.
once everyone leaves for food and wine, sammy approaches you.
"(y/n), good job." he says with a rare smile on his mouth. "I knew you could do it. how are your cuts?"
"they're fine, sir." you respond. they were fine- alongside that, so were you.
Hhheeeeyyy... I’m back it’s really been a while ahhsjshz idek if I’ll be back to post buuuut ;___; thought i’d give you guys some headcanons! I answer by date of ask, btw.
*
-049 would definitely adopt you, specifically because he’s against the concept of kidnapping you (non-consensual and all that, fucking traumatizing too) so he’d take you in under his wing, in the SCP lab
- would insist on tweaking you if he could,, maybe altering something in your genes so his touch wouldn’t affect you then bring you back. Because of your position as a D-Class, you had to, but to some extent you did it willingly
-you no longer die from a touch! Yay. 049 makes sure to cherish this fond feeling of affection, holding your hands/shoulders/arms/etc., Wherever you allow him to because he’s understanding of boundaries
- Random hc: feel like he’d be sooo into making food if the foundation allowed him access to the cafeteria... But because he can’t he sticks to asking the staff members for food for you; more nutritiously packed than his meals.
- Sees you as a daughter, a younger sibling if you will. Cherishes your position as (somewhat) a little follower, possibly a plague docling to his plague doctor self; sometimes you’d take down notes because he often babbles about you being his apprentice
- another random hc but would quite literally build you a small area in his lab for your “room” he’s respectful of your privacy too o777
- you’d probably take him to do a bunchhh of random things, like do some coloring or drawing and he’d drop all his science experiments to do these things with you. You notice his excitement when he gets to partake in these things- indeed like a father with his daughter
- at the end of the day you find yourself having dinner with him as he asks you about your day. Once the meal is over and you get ready for bed, he never forgets to give you a peck on the forehead <3
This is a little something else,, did this out of boredom; no one really requested this.
TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR the mentions of self harm, blade/s, and cuts
♡୨୧ SCP-049 doesn't do too well with identifying what's wrong. . . He may be a doctor, but his abilities to read someone is a little effy, mainly because you, a research scientist, always stands behind thick glass.
♡୨୧ Although he does pick up on it eventually. . . Through careful observation,, given that you are practically the only research scientist that spends enough time with him as you do, he carefully notices small things.
♡୨୧ He first noticed something was up when he realized you had been bleeding through your lab coat. A reddish stain in the shape of a puddle, pressed gently against your skin like the clinging of dried or drying blood. . . This definitely alarmed him, although he thought it would be rude to ask.
♡୨୧ But this began to happen more frequently which caused him to worry more frequently. You looked sickly and pale, you always had a stain on your lab coat, and you always rolled your lab coat up beyond your wrists, as if you were hiding something.
♡୨୧ What could that be? Well SCP-049 eventually asks. "Ahem," he clears his throat, his figure still as he stops working on the Foundation's given carcass, "I apologize if my asking seems rude, but. . . Why do you always seem to have a press of crimson liquid on your lab coat sleeve?"
♡୨୧ It's really your choice if you want to tell him or not. . . Even if you didn't, he wouldn't force the question on you any longer. But he does worry, just very very silently.
♡୨୧ After this encounter, his first words to you when you would enter his cell would always be something along the lines of, "Salut, Doctor. How have you been?"
♡୨୧ Isn't very good with human psychology, isn't very keen on reading people. But he does try his best to offer his support as someone you can talk to. As long as you get all the bad feelings out of your system, that is.
♡୨୧ Pesters guards and scientists to always do routinely checks in your office. Does not tell them why ("I fear they might be carrying. . . Weapons, good sirs,"). Wants to make sure that your office is clear of blades, ropes, pills, that kind of thing.
♡୨୧ If you ever resort to telling him about your self harming, he'd be glad as ever to assist you in patching up your wounds. I know something along the lines of his lethal touch being blocked if he wears thick mittens, so he does just that before tending to your wounds.
♡୨୧ If you cut anywhere else, say your thighs or legs, then he might, if he even will, pick up on it a little later. He might need you telling him for him to find out about it.
♡୨୧ Would do anything to be your distraction from self harm. Always tells you that if you ever feel like doing it, you could always come to his cell to have idle chit chat with him. He'll always listen.
Good day/Night/Afternoon to you! Can I ask for some platonic hcs with scp 049? What would the Plague Doctor do if they saw his researcher friend exhausted or overworked?
Hello! Good day/afternoon/night to you too (-: <3 I'm sorry if this is bad, it was a little rushed. Thank you so much for your request!
SCP 049 HCs with an overworking research scientist friend
ɞ♡ You were a junior researcher in need of a promotion; money had been getting scarce and you needed quite literally anything you could get your hands on. So!! What more than to actually investigate a Euclid-class object, SCP-049.
ɞ♡ Life in the Foundation was busy, with every scientist bustling through halls with authorized D-Class next to them, and you weren't no exception. With enough permission granted by some lenient part of the upper ground in the Foundation, you were allowed to meet with SCP-049 once a day; which was rather kind of them to permit.
ɞ♡ SCP-049 found himself enjoying your presence. "A like-minded person such as myself," is something he would repeat in different ways every time the conversation was about you. He liked that you weren't too strict on him and that you listened to his stories about the pestilence; though he did notice your fatigue.
ɞ♡ His care first shone through when you had been noting down his behavior aimlessly on a clipboard. Your eyes were droopy and it looked like you could pass out at any moment. Worried enough to speak, SCP-049 brought it up with, "Doctor, forgive me for asking too many questions, but are you sure you're alright?"
ɞ♡ You were a doctor and just a doctor. So you shrugged it off to the Plague Doctor, who was persistent. . .
ɞ♡ Since touch is still lethal here,, SCP-049 couldn't possibly hold you and examine you without you dying on him. Even through thick rubber gloves, his touch was lethal. At that moment he kind of despised that he couldn't do much.
Now to the HCs;
ɞ♡ Would definitely sing to you if it soothed your senses.
ɞ♡ To me, his voice is rather soothing, so he'd talk aimlessly about the pestilence or his experiences before the Foundation if you asked him to: "So, I remember before the Foundation brought me here, there had been a time in France where I encountered. . ."
ɞ♡ Would literally protect you. SCP-049 has some sort of a makeshift bed, I believe, in some part of his cell that he barely uses. Need rest? You can sleep over there if you trust him enough. Really, SCP-049 would not even bother touching you without your consent.
ɞ♡ He would pester you nonstop about taking a break. Even though that would mean you would see him less (and he didn't quite like the idea; enjoying your presence was something he was surprised to have felt) he prioritizes your health.
ɞ♡ If you're working tirelessly, he'd normally be the one to remind you about water breaks and this and that.
ɞ♡ "Doctor, I know I have mentioned this many, many times now, but. . . too much overworking could cause you to fall ill, and although I can treat such illnesses, I'm not sure the Foundation would permit me to."
ɞ♡ In the end, it was less about getting a promotion, and more about being able to have some sort of a "bond" with SCP-049.
Hello! I'm Seraph, and I'll be taking SCP requests,, any genre is allowed, as well as specific asks [I have an ask me anything box open, in case you wanna request] and any SCP is alright.
I CAN DO;
NSFW, but only with certain SCPs
ANGST
FLUFF
X CHILD!READERS, but the story will ALWAYS be platonic.
ANY SITUATION REQUESTS
I DON'T DO;
PEDOPHILIA-THEMED STORIES
BEASTIALITY
ANYTHING TOO DEEP [S/A, R@P3] because it'll be insensitive.
