mabelle

hello!! call me mabelle :)

[skibster447]

anxiety - request

author’s heads up: this one shot does deal with anxiety-induced appetite loss and forgetting to eat due to stress/overwhelm. it isn't an eating disorder fic and it doesn't involve body image issues, just the physical body reaction when your nervous system is on overtime.

REQUEST: another chase fluff fic where it's more like comfort and the reader struggles with her mental health? asking bc of what i personally am going through rn but maybe its like she has anxiety over everything that happens in the show drama wise? & those feelings start to affect her eating (not an ed tho).

—

The lab hummed around you. Bright, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Sounds of the holotable quietly rippled. A fan cycled through its rhythm somewhere in a corner. You sat at the workbench with a granola bar in your hand, wrapper peeled back an hour ago, untouched.

Chase stood at the holotable across the room, fingers trailing through mission data. His brow furrowed at something on the display. Probably a probability or data anomaly. Probably another close call you’d have to hear about at dinner.

You stared at the granola bar. Oats. Honey. A thin film of chocolate on the bottom. Your stomach clenched just looking at it.

Another mission tomorrow. Another extraction, another impossible rescue, another scenario where the people you cared about walked into danger and you stayed behind, holding your breath until their communicators crackled back to life.

You set the bar down.

"Hey." Chase's voice came from the other end of the bench. You looked up, he'd crossed the room without you noticing. "You've been staring at that thing for a while."

"Just distracted," you said, trying to sound casual. Your voice came out thin around the edges.

He tilted his head, his eyes squinting with that analytical look he always got when something didn't add up. He reached for your wrist with a gentle grip. "Your heart rate is elevated. One hundred and twelve beats per minute. You've been sitting still for the last twenty minutes."

Chase could always read a room with precision and notice the details regular humans hoped he'd look past. Even without consciously focusing his bionic vision, he picked up on every subtle shift in your posture.

"Are you feeling okay?" He pulled the stool across from you, sat down, and folded his arms on the workbench.

"I'm fine."

"You haven't eaten since breakfast."

"I had a snack at noon."

"A granola bar. Which you opened and then didn't consume." He gestured at the wrapper, still around the bar. "That counts as having a snack the way breathing counts as cardio."

You wanted to make a joke, but your throat tightened. The humor drained out of the moment, replaced by the weight pressing in your chest.

He noticed.

"Something on your mind?" he asked softly, not like the confident bionic genius the world saw, but like the boy who stayed up late with you in this lab, splitting sugar-free energy drinks and fixing things. Sugar-free because it is Chase afterall.

You let out a shaky breath.

"Tomorrow's mission," you started. Then stopped.

He waited.

"Every time you guys leave, I just stand here. Watching the monitors. Running diagnostics on equipment I can't fully control. And I keep thinking—" Your voice cracked. You pressed your palms against your legs, steadying yourself. "What if this is the one where something goes wrong? What if Adam gets pinned under a collapsing building? What if Bree doesn't make it out fast enough? What if you—"

You couldn't finish the sentence.

The lab suddenly felt very small. The screens glowed too bright. The processing hum of the servers vibrated through the floor, through your bones and in your ears like some constant heartbeat of danger. You felt a pit grow in your stomach.

“Hey, hey,” Chase reached out. His hand landed on top of yours, warm and still. "Breathe with me," he turned your hand over so your palm rested flat against his chest. "Match my rhythm. Slow it down."

You took a shaky inhale, focusing entirely on the steady, calm rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingers.

"Can I ask you something?" he added after a moment.

You blinked at him.

"How’ve you been sleeping lately?"

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"That's what I thought." His thumb traced a slow arc across your knuckles. "And the last time you ate a real meal?"

"Yesterday," you managed.

"Dinner?"

You couldn't even remember. You remembered the kitchen chaos—Adam grabbing food off plates mid-sentence, Bree arguing about something, Mr. Davenport yelling about equipment damage. You remembered pushing your food around the plate and giving up.

"The answer's that long pause," he said quietly.

You wanted to pull your hand away. Deflect. Change the subject. Instead, your eyes burned and you could feel tears try to escape. You were supposed to be the steady one. The problem-solver. The person who kept her head down and did her job.

Except the steady one had been worried for weeks now, and your sleep and eating schedule were completely off because of it.

Chase let go of your hand, and for a moment you felt the absence like cold air. Then he stood up, walked to the holotable, and did something you'd never seen him do: he shut the whole system down.

Every screen. Every projection. Every blinking indicator light.

The lab went quiet.

"If you're going to talk, you're going to do it in a calm environment," he said, turning back around. "Not surrounded by battle schematics and all the other distractions. I do have to keep security on, though. Sorry about Eddy.” You looked over at the familiar emoticon on the screen and sighed.

"There's a mission tomorrow—" you started.

"There's a mission tomorrow that Adam and Bree can handle without me for the most part." He walked over and turned off the temperature readouts and the lights illuminating the diagnostic arrays behind you, dimming the room until the harsh glare was completely gone. "And my job is to keep you safe, too."

"Your job is to save the world. Plus, you’re their leader."

"My job," he said, settling back onto the stool across from you, "is to take care of the people I love."

The words landed in your chest. You stared at him.

He looked different in the dimmer light. Softer. The angles of his face still held that impossible symmetry, the kind that made scientists question whether he was really a human experiment, but his eyes were gentle. No data processing. No threat assessment. Just Chase.

"The what-ifs," he said. "I want to hear them. All of them."

"I don't want to burden you."

"Burden me."

You glanced at the nearest dark screen and started to spiral. "What if someone discovers your bionics? What if there's another Marcus? What if the government gets involved and you all get taken away? What if—"

"Okay." He held up a hand, not to silence you, but to slow you down. "Let's break this into pieces."

You exhaled slowly.

"Our outside discovery risk is currently at 3.2%," he said. "That’s calculated across threat vectors, data leaks, and surveillance exposure. It’s down from 14% last month. The lab's cloaking systems are running at optimal efficiency, and Davenport’s intel network hasn't flagged any credible interest in Davenport Industries."

"Okay, but what if there’s someone else out there who knows how to program bionics? What if another Marcus and Krane thing happens?"

"Davenport and Douglas are the only two people who know how our programming works. Now that Krane is gone, there’s no way something like that could ever happen again. Marcus is gone too. Krane's operation was dismantled. The emergency protocols we built in response mean that even a worst-case scenario with double agents would take months to fully execute, and by then we'd have identified the threat."

He spoke with calm certainty. The same voice he used when explaining complex physics, when walking you through his engineering breakthroughs. It was soothing and familiar, like a song you'd heard a hundred times.

“Now what about the government? What if they take you away or try to deploy you or use you as weapons at some point or run experiments—”

"The government," he continued, "isn’t going to take anyone away. Because that scenario only happens if they discover us, which brings us back to the 3.2%."

"Three point two percent isn't zero."

"No." He leaned forward. "It isn't. But you can't live your life bracing for a 3.2% possibility. That's like wearing a helmet inside your house just in case the ceiling falls. The odds are with you… unless you live with Adam."

Your chest ached, but differently now. Less like fear and more like something cracking open.

"Do you want to know what I've been working on?" he asked, tilting his head toward the dark holotable. "Not mission stuff. Personal project."

You nodded.

"A miniature gravitational field stabilizer," he said, and his face lit up—that boyish enthusiasm that appeared when he talked about theoretical physics. "For portable technology uses. The challenge is managing the energy output without destabilizing the local spacetime curvature. Every time I think I've solved it, the math shifts. But yesterday I realized—"

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. The tension uncoiled from your shoulders, your muscles loosening slowly. Your head felt heavy. Without thinking, you leaned sideways and rested it against his shoulder.

He didn't stop talking. He just shifted slightly to make space for you, his hand coming up to rest on your back, fingers tracing gentle patterns. His voice hummed through his chest, vibrating against your cheek as he kept explaining the physics with growing passion.

"At a certain point, the field should maintain stability independently. Think about it like a gyroscope—once it achieves sufficient angular momentum, it won't tip over. I just haven't found the right material for the superconducting core yet. Bree says I'm overcomplicating it. Adam says I should just use duct tape."

You smiled a little.

"I told Adam that duct tape is not a component material for spacetime manipulation," Chase said, sounding affronted. "Then, he said that's exactly what someone who's never tried duct tape would say."

Your eyes closed. The weight in your chest had eased to a dull ache. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and even. The hum of his voice continued, and you let it fill your mind, drowning out the constant loop of worry and fear.

"We also discussed the possibility of using graphene. But temperature variance creates conductivity issues in certain energy ranges, so I'd need a composite structure, which introduces flexibility problems…"

He trailed off.

"Still awake?" he asked.

"Mmhm." Your voice came out lazy.

"How's the granola bar situation?"

You opened your eyes, glanced at the discarded bar on the workbench. Your stomach didn't clench this time. It just felt empty.

"Maybe I'll try again," you said.

Chase shifted, glancing at the elevator. "The kitchen has leftover soup from yesterday. I don't know what's in it, because Adam made it, but it smelled nontoxic."

"That's a glowing endorsement." You looked up at him slyly.

"I can also make you toast and some warm tea. I might’ve gotten an A- in Home Ec, but toast and tea are well within my capabilities."

You laughed again. The sound surprised you. It felt like something you hadn't done in weeks.

"Toast sounds good," you said.

Chase stood and held out his hand. You took it, letting him pull you up from the stool. His fingers stayed wrapped around yours.

"One more thing," he said.

You looked up at him.

"You don't have to carry this," he said quietly. "The weight of our world. The missions, the secrets, the danger. I need to go into missions knowing I'm coming back to you, not to a version of you that's been slowly worrying herself to exhaustion about what could happen to us."

Your lips pursed.

"Can you be here with me? Not anticipating every disaster?"

"I can try," you responded.

"That's all I'm asking." He squeezed your hand. "Now come on. Toast awaits."

—

anotha fluff chapter! yay! i lowk might redo this at some point or do another thing like this about mental health because it’s something i’ve struggled with too.

also!! if you’re still reading, i love requests so please reach out!

[skibster447]

so i was ovulating last week and had a fic idea but i need a general consensus if it’s too overly freaked…

tw aged up chase davenport x reader 18+ ahead

so the reader was a part of krane’s army or is just also bionic somehow without being related to the family. then, chase uses the override app to control them consensually… how do we feel.. this could also speak to the power imbalance i personally enjoy but yk!!😭

[skibster447]

couldn't sleep?

some chase x reader fluff! 

Rain drummed against the windows of the Davenport household in steady beats. The sound filled the living room like white noise, muffling the occasional creak of old wood and the distant hum of appliances cycling through their nightly routines.

You were curled into the corner of the couch, your knees pulled to your chest, a tablet balanced on your thigh. The screen glowed with schematics you'd been pretending to study for the last twenty minutes. A new prototype Mr. Davenport had mentioned briefly—something about propulsion systems you were supposed to review before Monday.

Your focus had other ideas.

Every few seconds, your gaze drifted from the blueprints to the kitchen. To the doorway. To the hall that led to the room where you knew Chase was finishing up his own work.

The house felt different at night. Bigger. Quieter. The kind of quiet that made every small sound feel amplified—the rain, the settling floors, your own breathing.

You set the tablet aside.

Your feet carried you through the foyer without much thought, past the kitchen where the lights were dimmed, past the long windows, and down the hall. Your fingers brushed the wall as you walked, trailing along the textured surface.

His door was cracked open, and a sliver of warm light spilled into the hallway, cutting across the dark floor. You could hear movement inside. Soft typing, the quiet humming of a song that had been stuck in his head.

You knocked gently, your knuckles barely grazing the wood.

"Yeah?" His voice came through soft and unconcerned.

You pushed the door open.

Chase was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his laptop resting beside him. His hair was slightly messy, the way it got when he'd been running his fingers through it while thinking. He'd changed out of his usual flannel and jeans into a worn gray t-shirt and sweatpants.

He looked up at you. "Couldn't sleep?"

You shook your head, hovering in the doorway. "Couldn't focus." A pause. "Figured I'd see if you were still awake."

He patted the space beside him.

You crossed the room and sank onto the mattress, the familiar give of his bedding welcoming you. The room smelled like him—clean laundry, the faint metallic tang of lab equipment that always clung to his clothes, and something warmer underneath that you couldn't quite name.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The rain continued its steady percussion against the glass. The bedroom walls felt closer than the rest of the house. More intimate.

"Long day?" he said finally.

You let out a quiet laugh. "Tell me about it."

His hand found yours, his fingers slipping between yours. They were warm and slightly calloused from years of handling tech and training.

"Bad dreams lately?" he asked. He knew you'd been struggling with insomnia lately.

You looked at him. His eyes held yours with the focused attention he reserved for problems that actually mattered.

"Not tonight," you said. "Just... restless."

He nodded, accepting the answer without pushing. That was one of the things you loved about him—the way he knew when to press and when to let things breathe.

His thumb traced a slow arc across your knuckles. The motion was absent and unthinking, like his hand had decided to comfort you before his brain caught up.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping into something lighter, almost teasing, "you could have just said you wanted to see me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a smile. "Maybe I needed moral support. The propulsion schematics are boring."

"Moral support." He grinned. "Right." He dragged out the word with an exaggerated nod.

"I'm serious." You smiled and shifted closer, your shoulder bumping his. "Some of us don't have super-intelligence to breeze through blueprints in ten seconds."

"Actually," he said with a smile, "I read them at a normal speed. The fast thing is just for show."

"Liar."

"Prove it."

The challenge hung in the air between you. His eyes held yours, dark in the dim light, and the playful edge of his smile softened into something more sincere.

The rain filled the silence between you.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was quieter now.

"Anything."

He hesitated, which was rare. Chase usually calculated, strategized, and acted. But here, with his hand wrapped around yours and the space between you shrinking, he seemed to be weighing something carefully.

"I found you in the lab last week," he said slowly. "Three in the morning. Working on that actuator calibration. You fell asleep at the console." He chuckled softly.

You remembered. The hard plastic of the chair. The hum of machinery. Then the warmth of a blanket draped over your shoulders, fingers brushing your hair away from your face before you were fully awake to register it.

"You practically carried me to my room," you said.

"You were exhausted." He shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't going to leave you there."

"You stayed with me until I fell asleep."

The admission settled between you, heavier than you'd intended. You hadn't talked about it afterward. He'd sat on the edge of your bed with one hand resting gently against your back. You remembered waking up alone, but the blanket still smelled like him.

He looked down at your joined hands. His thumb stopped moving.

"So... you do remember that."

He looked a little embarrassed, unsure about how you'd react.

"Hard to forget."

The air in the room thickened. The rain seemed louder, the walls closer, his presence an anchor pulling you toward something neither of you had fully named yet. You weren't sure whether dating would change everything or whether staying friends was safer, so the two of you had simply lingered somewhere in between.

"Chase."

He looked up.

Your heart was beating faster than it should have been. There was no danger here. No mission. No emergency. Just the two of you in the quiet of his room, hands intertwined, the rest of the house asleep.

"I'm glad you were there."

His lips parted slightly. A breath escaped him, somewhere between a sigh and the release of tension he'd been holding.

"Me too." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm always glad when it's you."

The words settled warmly somewhere deep in your chest.

Your free hand came up, your fingers brushing gently against his jaw. He went still. It wasn't the stillness of fear. It was the stillness of someone savoring a moment they didn't want to end. His eyes searched yours, asking a question without forming the words.

He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. His breath ghosted across your lips. Close. So close you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the slight tremor in his hand as his grip on yours tightened.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he breathed.

You shook your head, your nose brushing softly against his.

"I don't."

His other hand rose, settling gently against your waist. A silent question asked through the careful pressure of his fingertips.

You leaned into him.

For the first time, his lips met yours, soft and unhurried. There was no urgency, just the quiet press of connection, the way his mouth fit against yours as though it had always belonged there.

The kiss deepened slowly. His hand slid from your waist to your back, pulling you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair, soft and slightly tangled from his earlier pacing. He let out a low, barely audible sound that disappeared against your lips, and it was enough to make you smile into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathing a little heavier. His forehead remained pressed against yours. His hand stayed splayed across your back, holding you as though he were afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

"Okay." He swallowed. "Well... that happened."

You laughed, What a dorky thing to say? 

"Yeah," you said. "It did."

A slow smile spread across his face. The kind that reached his eyes, creasing the corners and making him look wonderfully unguarded. Softer. More real than the version of him everyone saw during missions or in the briefing room.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted.

"How long?"

"Long enough."

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. His hand stayed on your back, warm and steady.

"We should probably talk about this at some point," you said.

"Probably." He tilted his head, smiling again. "But it's late. And you're here." His thumb brushed lightly against your back. "I'd rather just stay like this a little longer."

The honesty caught you off guard.

"Then let's stay like this."

He smiled.

He shifted until you were both lying on the bed, facing one another. His arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close. Your legs tangled together beneath the blanket he'd tugged over both of you with his free hand.

The rain had softened now, reduced to a gentle patter against the glass.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your hip through your shirt. Your hand rested against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

"This okay?" he asked.

"More than okay."

"Perfect."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes, sinking into his warmth.

After a moment, he chuckled softly.

"I can hear your heartbeat."

You looked up at him. "Yeah?"

His lips brushed your hair.

"It's fast."

"So is yours."

He was quiet for a moment. Then his hand stilled against your hip.

"Good." He grinned. "Means we're on the same page."

A comfortable silence settled between you before he spoke again.

"Stay tonight."

You relaxed into his arms.

"I wasn't planning on leaving."

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

aawww so cute! some kinda fluffy wholesome stuff for a change!! so i did google it and all of the rats do have their own rooms in later seasons so trust this works. 😎

smut may return soon though...

[skibster447]

just found out what smutbots are.. dafuq🥹

i PROMISE i am anti-ai and if my writing reads as ai it’s probably because im new to writing romance and other.. stuff of the sorts

i love the feedback though and sorry if i have an ai writing style i promise ive been writing since like 2018 before bots existed, i just haven’t been on tumblr til now 💔💔

anyways! love you all and goodnight!! mwah!! 💋

[maisy1111]

me staring at the search bar trying to decide which fictional man I’ll read about tonight:

[skibster447]

molecular kinesis

chase davenport x fem reader smut

The warehouse had been cold when you arrived, some forgotten storage unit on the edge of town where the fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered like dying insects. Now, with the mission gone sideways, the temperature felt like a distant memory.

Normally, you did all of the work from the lab with help from Leo, but today was different.

The mission had started as a routine retrieval. Adam, Bree, and Chase had gone in expecting to recover a stolen Davenport Industries prototype of a weapon while you and Leo monitored security feeds from the lab. Leo coordinated communications from his console while you kept the prototype's tracker online and gave the team real-time updates through their earpieces.

Then the smugglers called for reinforcements to trap the bionic team inside. They had come from every direction, and even a mix of super speed, strength, and intelligence wouldn't be enough to help them escape. The bootleggers quickly moved towards the team, but they could only fight for so long.

When Mr. Davenport saw the situation, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the emergency helicopter, barked for you and Leo to come with him, and insisted he needed every extra set of eyes and hands he could get.

Once you arrived at the warehouse, the three of you snuck in through an opening in the roof. The plan was for you and Leo to remain hidden, scope out the building, and give the Lab Rats information about the smugglers' whereabouts through their earpieces while simultaneously trying to find a route of escape.

Leo took the north side of the building, while you took the south. The plan was going smoothly until your earpiece fell out, making a sound that caught the attention of several gang members. You immediately ran to try and find the team, Leo, or Davenport, but just as the bionic crew was in your sight, you were surrounded.

You pressed your back against a rusted shelving unit, heart hammering as three armed men spread out across the concrete floor. Their footsteps echoed. Flashlights cut through the darkness in sweeping arcs. You braced for impact as the men stepped towards you.

"Hey." A familiar voice spoke, and the men's attention changed as Chase approached them. He wasn't fast or dramatic, he simply stepped between you and them, one hand raised, and the air shifted.

The nearest man froze mid-stride, his boots lifting an inch off the ground. His eyes went wide. The gun slipped from fingers that no longer obeyed him, and he hung there, suspended like a marionette with tangled strings. The other two followed in quick succession—a flick of Chase's wrist, a tightening of his jaw, and they were pinned against the far wall, arms spread, feet dangling.

"Don't move," he said, his voice flat. Controlled. "Or I'll hold you here until every bone in your body is begging for solid ground."

They didn't move.

He held the position for ten seconds, fifteen, his gaze steady, his breathing even. Then, with a slow exhale, he lowered them. They crumpled. Unconscious before they hit the concrete.

The warehouse fell silent as he looked back at you.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

Now, everyone had returned to the lab.

The mission had ended in success, though not without a few close calls. While Adam, Bree, and Chase kept the smugglers occupied, Davenport had slipped into the warehouse wearing a Cyber-Mask disguised as the buyer they had been expecting. The exchange had gone exactly as planned, giving him just enough time to secure the stolen prototype before the operation unraveled. Between Davenport's deception and the bionic team's efforts, the smugglers never stood a chance.

For the first time that evening, the lab was calm–until Adam started exaggerating his part in the fight. Bree rolled her eyes every few seconds, Leo couldn't stop replaying security footage to prove Adam wrong, and Davenport had launched into what was quickly becoming a very long mission debrief.

You were mostly just relieved everyone made it back.

That relief was short lived.

Davenport paused mid-sentence, his expression shifting as he glanced at the equipment inventory on the nearby monitor.

"…We're missing an earpiece."

The room fell silent.

Your stomach dropped before you even looked at the screen. The communicator assigned to you was still transmitting its last recorded location.

The warehouse.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second.

Of course it was.

"It must've fallen out when I got separated," you admitted quietly.

Davenport sighed and stared at the floor for a moment before speaking.

"We can't leave Davenport Industries' technology lying around a crime scene," he said. "If it ends up in the wrong hands, someone could reverse-engineer our communications network."

Unfortunately… he wasn't wrong.

The earpieces were encrypted, but that didn't mean they were harmless. Given enough time, the wrong person could learn far more than anyone in the room was comfortable with.

"It has to be retrieved."

Before Davenport had even finished speaking, Chase straightened from where he'd been leaning against the lab table.

"I'll go."

The answer came so quickly that everyone turned to look at him.

Davenport studied him for a moment before nodding once.

"Fine. The building layout was installed into your chip so you know it better than anyone."

Chase nodded and looked over at you.

"You coming?"

You let out a small, resigned sigh.

"I guess I kind of owe everyone that."

Less than thirty minutes later, the two of you were back at the warehouse.

The flashing police lights were gone. The shattered crates still littered the concrete floor, and yellow evidence markers had yet to appear. It felt eerily untouched, as if the building itself hadn't realized the chaos was over.

Chase lifted a hand to the side of his head, his eyes briefly unfocusing as his thermal vision swept through the structure. After a few quiet seconds, he nodded.

"No heat signatures." He glanced toward you. "We're alone."

The two of you slipped inside, your footsteps echoing through the cavernous warehouse.

"Do you remember where you were when it fell?" he asked.

You looked around the dim room, the rusted shelving units and scattered crates blurring together.

"Honestly, no," you admitted. "Everything happened so fast."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. "I know it's somewhere on the south side of the building. Davenport has its location, so we could just call him." You suggested.

Chase smiled and let out a tired sigh as he reached for his phone. "You know, at least I'm stuck looking for a two-inch-long earpiece in a massive warehouse with you and not Leo."

"Yeah, I can only imagine how long that would take." You paused. "Also, um, thank you for what you did earlier, that was—"

"Routine." He turned to face you, brushing dust from his jacket with a cocky grin. The fluorescent light caught the edges of his jaw. The faint scatter of freckles across his nose stood out as he nodded, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You stepped over a fallen pipe, closing the distance between you. "You make that look easy."

"It's not," he admitted. "But I've had practice."

Both of your adrenaline was fading now, leaving something warmer in its place. Your pulse still raced, but the fear had bled out, replaced by a different kind of tension. You glanced around the warehouse—the high ceilings, the rows of abandoned equipment, the moonlight slicing through a broken window.

"You know," you said, your voice lighter than you intended, "this place has a certain vibe."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "A vibe?"

"Abandoned. Dangerous. Very…" You gestured vaguely. "Public. In a secluded kind of way."

He caught your meaning immediately. You saw it in the way his eyes darkened, the way his head tilted just slightly. "Are you suggesting something?"

"Half-joking." Your smile widened. "But… maybe more than half."

Silence stretched between you. The buzz of the failing lights. The distant hum of a city that you didn't know the name of.

Then Chase stepped closer.

"Do you trust me?" His voice had dropped, quieter now, rougher at the edges.

"Yes."

"Then don't move."

You didn't.

He raised his hand again, and you felt something. Not a push, not a shove, but a pressure. Specifically, Chase's molecular kinesis. Gentle at first. A weight settling against your wrists, guiding them behind your back. The air grew thick around them, holding them in place, binding them together as if an invisible rope had been wound tight.

Your breath caught.

His eyes met yours. "Too much?"

"No." The word came out steadier than you felt. "Keep going."

Another gesture. The pressure shifted to your shoulders, then down your spine, nudging you forward, downward. Your knees bent. They met the cold concrete with a soft thud, and you stayed there, kneeling, hands bound behind you, looking up at him.

He took a slow step forward. Then another.

The moonlight caught his face, and you saw hunger flicker in his expression. He reached down, fingertips brushing your cheek, tilting your head back.

"You're beautiful like this," he murmured. "Pinned. Waiting."

Your heart slammed against your chest. "Are you gonna make me wait longer?"

A low laugh escaped him. "Not tonight."

The pressure at your wrists tightened—not painfully, just enough to remind you they were no longer yours. The air wrapped around your knees too, pressing them into the concrete, spreading them slightly apart. You were held. Completely. His power hummed against your skin like static electricity, and you loved it. You'd wanted him to do this for a long time, but you hadn't known how to ask.

He came down to your level and started to kiss you slowly, like he was savoring you. His tongue traced your lower lip before he pulled back to breathe.

Before you could say anything, his lips ghosted down your jaw. Featherlight. Maddeningly gentle. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow beneath your ear, and a shiver raced down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin as he worked lower, trailing kisses along the column of your neck.

"Chase," you whispered.

He hummed against the sweet spot on your neck, and the vibration made your knees weak. His lips parted, and you felt the wet heat of his tongue against your skin, tasting the salt and sweat from the mission. He lingered there, sucking softly, just enough to make your head fall back.

His hands wandered while his mouth worked—one sliding up your ribs, fingers splaying across your side, not quite gripping, just touching. The other traced down your arm, over your wrist, interlacing his fingers with yours. He brushed his thumb across your palm in slow, lazy circles.

You arched into him, but he pulled back slightly, his free hand finding the curve of your waist. He skimmed his fingertips along the hem of your shirt, teasing the bare skin just above your hip. He didn't push further. Not yet.

"Patience, baby," he murmured against your collarbone, pressing another kiss there while his hand drifted lower, grazing the outside of your thigh before retreating back to your waist. Your breath hitched as his lips returned to yours—soft, slow, a gentle press that made the teasing worth it.

He pulled away from you and stood up, beginning to unzip his pants. He gave you a "Do you want to do this?" look, which you quickly nodded in response to. He finished unzipping his pants slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric fall. He was already hard, the sight of you on your knees doing exactly what he'd intended.

He gave himself a few strokes before guiding his cock to your mouth. You felt the press of him against your lips before he touched you, another phantom pressure that made you shiver. Then his hand threaded through your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, and he pulled you forward.

You opened your mouth.

He slid past your lips in one smooth motion, not deep, just enough to fill your mouth, to let you feel the weight of him on your tongue. You closed your lips around him, and the pressure at your wrists tightened in response—a silent communication, yes, just like that.

You worked your tongue along the underside of his shaft, and his breath stuttered above you. His hand tightened in your hair, not pulling, just holding. Grounding himself.

"That's it," he said, his voice strained. "Just like that."

You took him deeper.

The angle was perfect—held in place, your hands useless, your knees pressed into the concrete. You couldn't rush, couldn't pull away, couldn't do anything except take what he gave you and give back with your mouth. The ridges at the base of his cock dragged across your tongue. The weight of him pressed against the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him, feeling him twitch.

A low groan rumbled from his chest. His hips shifted forward, just slightly, and you felt the air around you pulse in a wave of heat and pressure that wrapped around your body like a second skin. He was trying to remind you that you were held under his abilities.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder.

"Fuck," he groaned.

The word hung in the air, raw and honest, and you wanted more. You wanted to break through that cool control, wanted to see him unravel. You increased the pace, your tongue working in circles around the head of his cock every time you pulled back, then sliding flat along the underside as you took him deep again.

His hips began to move, small thrusts that matched your rhythm. His hand remained in your hair, guiding but not forcing. The force that held your wrists pulsed with each movement, a living constraint that responded to his arousal.

Sweat beaded at your temples. The concrete was cold against your knees, but the rest of you was burning.

"Look at me," he said.

You tilted your head back immediately, mouth still full of him, and met his eyes.

Hazel. Dark in the dim light. Focused entirely on you.

"You're going to make me come," he said, and it wasn't a question. It was a confession. "Is that what you want?"

You couldn't answer with words. You hummed instead, a low sound that vibrated around his cock, and his eyes fluttered closed for a fraction of a second.

When they opened again, they were sharper.

"Then finish it. Make me come in your mouth."

You did.

You took him deep one last time, letting the head of his cock press against the back of your throat, and you held there, your tongue working the sensitive underside while your throat contracted around him. His hips jerked. His hand fisted in your hair. And he came with a sound that was a half groan, half broken word, his release flooding your mouth in hot pulses.

You held him in place until he softened. Until his breathing steadied.

Then, slowly, the pressure around your wrists dissolved.

Your hands dropped to your sides. You let out a shaky breath, your knees aching, your lips tingling.

Chase crouched down in front of you. His hand found your cheek again and he studied you for a long moment. The hunger was still there, but softer now. Warmer.

His mouth still hovered near yours, warm and unhurried, but his hand was already moving. The air shifted again—that familiar pressure, but softer now. It curled around your wrists, drawing them back behind you, pinning them in place before you could even think to reach for him.

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmured against your lips.

His free hand found the waistband of your pants. The pressure at your wrists tightened just slightly, a reminder that you were still his to control, and then his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, grazing the damp heat of you.

You gasped.

He took his time. His lips traced down your jaw, your throat, while his fingers teased through your folds, gathering wetness before circling your clit in slow, maddening strokes. Your hips bucked against his hand/ His telekinesis held your knees apart, kept you open and vulnerable.

"Please," you breathed.

"Not yet." His voice was a whisper against your skin.

He circled again. Slower. Your whole body trembled, caught between the pressure of his bionics and the teasing of his fingers. Every drag of his fingertips sent a chill down your thighs, but he never pushed harder, never gave you more.

"You're close," he said. Not a question.

You nodded, breath ragged.

He pulled his hand away.

A whimper escaped you, and he smiled smugly before his fingers returned, pressing inside you this time. One. Then two. Curling, searching, finding that spot that made your vision blur. His thumb found your clit, pressing down in tight, deliberate circles.

"I want to feel you come apart on my hand," he said, his voice rough. "Do it." He looked into your eyes.

The pressure in the air vanished from your wrists, but you didn't move. You couldn't. His fingers worked you relentlessly. Pumping, circling, and pressing until you shattered, a broken cry escaping your lips as pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave, while he watched, while he held you, until you were trembling and spent in his arms. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other slid down to your waist.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes until he pulled you towards him so you were on your feet.

"That was—" He stopped. Swallowed. "God."

You laughed, breathless. "Yeah."

"Well, we should find my earpiece before everyone at the lab gets suspicious…" You added.

You both stood there for a moment, neither of you moving.

Then Chase cleared his throat.

"Right. The earpiece."

You laughed, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse.

"Professional as always."

"I'm trying."

Together, you retraced your steps toward the south side of the warehouse. It was only a few minutes before Chase's thermal scan picked up the tiny communicator wedged beneath a fallen metal pallet.

"Found it," he said, crouching to retrieve it.

You accepted the earpiece from his hand, turning it over with a relieved sigh.

"Mr. Davenport is never going to let me live this down."

Chase smiled, bumping your shoulder with his.

"Probably not."

"Think Leo already has jokes prepared?"

"Without question."

You laughed again as the two of you headed for the exit. Outside, the night air was cool, the mission finally behind you. Chase reached for your hand without saying a word, and you laced your fingers through his as the warehouse disappeared into the darkness behind you.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

okay i'm lowk proud of the plot of this one and i LOVE the idea of him using his molecular kinesis during intimacy oh my GAWDD

anyways, i hope you enjoyed!! :]

[skibster447]

you? patient?

chase davenport x fem reader smut

Chase lingered in your doorway for a moment, one shoulder resting against the frame as a familiar smirk tugged at his lips. A faint bruise was already forming along his forearm from the afternoon's mission. His hair was wet from just showering, but he'd somehow missed a streak of soot on his cheek. The mix of wet hair, a loose t-shirt, and his baggy pajama pants did something to you.

"You know," you teased, crossing your arms, "most people wash up after saving the city." You pointed at his cheek.

"What?" He furrowed his brows before hurrying to look at himself in your mirror. He hated being dirty, it made him feel too much like Adam. After noticing the small smudge, he shrugged, "You know, I was going to. But then I remembered someone promised me a movie night."

You couldn't help but smile. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

The quiet that settled between you was comfortable, the kind that only came after countless late-night debriefs in the lab, shared victories, and more near-disasters than either of you cared to count. Missions had a way of reminding you how quickly everything could change. Maybe that was why moments like this felt so important.

"Come here," he said softly.

You closed the distance with a laugh that quickly melted into a smile as he took your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours, warm and familiar, before he gently pulled you closer for a hug.

"I've been wanting to hug you all day," he admitted, his voice quieter now.

You looked at him with a confused smile. "You were literally standing next to me during Davenport's huge lecture about the mission. Why didn't you just hug me then?"

"I know." He chuckled. "Believe it or not, I was trying to be patient."

You laughed. "You? Patient?"

"Ouch."

He pretended to look offended, but the grin on his face gave him away. You reached up to straighten the crooked collar of his shirt, noticing another small scrape near his neck.

"You really should let Davenport patch you up."

"I'll survive."

"I know you will," you said, meeting his hazel eyes. "But I still worry."

Something in his expression softened. The cocky confidence he wore so effortlessly slipped away for just a moment, replaced by something quieter, more genuine.

"I know."

He leaned in, and the kiss was slow at first, soft, almost hesitant– until it wasn't. You found yourself smiling against his lips as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Without breaking the kiss, he closed the door and guided you backward, each step unhurried, until the backs of your knees met the edge of the bed.

"Careful," he murmured with a quiet laugh.

You let yourself fall back onto the mattress, giggling as he caught himself on top of you with one hand beside your head, his smile mirroring yours. After seeing him in the familiar position, something inside you flipped. The two of you were looking into each other's eyes, a mutual desire in both of you flickered.

"Baby, I love you from this angle." he smiled, moving a piece of hair off of your face.

"Really? How much?" You cockily smiled, hoping that, just this once, the genius hovering over you would stop overanalyzing everything and flirt back.

He looked down at you with a thinking expression for a few seconds before saying, "Why don't I show you?" His boldness caught you a little off guard. He smiled to himself before adding, "There's another thing I've been wanting to do all day too."

You smiled and were going to add a sly comment, but his lips were on you before you could even catch your breath. His body pressed you into the mattress with a weight that was both grounding and intoxicating. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. He knew exactly how to unravel you. Your eyes shut as you melted into the kiss, your body already trembling with anticipation.

He broke away just long enough to whisper against your lips, "You're so fucking perfect like this, baby. All soft and dumb for me." His breath was hot, sending shivers down your spine as he trailed his lips down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. You arched into him, a whimper escaping as his teeth grazed your pulse point.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" He pulled back.

"Yes, baby." You smiled.

His hands slid down your body, fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts before he tugged at the hem of your shirt. "Off," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. You complied immediately, lifting your arms so he could pull the fabric over your head. The cool air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looked down at you, his hazel eyes dark with hunger. He put his hands under your bra and began palming each of your breasts, occasionally giving your nipples a twist or rub, all while still kissing your mouth and neck. Without thinking, you began pushing your upper-half against him as the pleasure increased. He moved his hands to your back and quickly removed the garment that was keeping him from what he wanted to see.

Chase wasted no time, his mouth descending on your chest, his tongue flicking over one hardened nipple. You let out a moan, your back arching off the bed as he sucked gently, then harder, until you were squirming beneath him. "Such pretty little tits," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Perfect for me to worship."

His words sent a thrill through you, your hips grinding against his instinctively. You loved this—the way he praised you and made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. But you loved it even more when he flipped the script, when he reminded you of how much you needed him.

He moved onto your other breast, giving it the same attention, his tongue circling the peak before taking it into his mouth. Your hands fisted in the sheets, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "Chase," you whimpered, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head, his lips curving into a devilish smile. "What's wrong, baby? Can't handle it?" His hand slid down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your shorts teasingly. "You look so desperate already. So needy. Tell me what you want."

You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing. "You," came out in a barely audible whisper. "I want you."

His smile widened, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you dizzy. Then he was moving lower, his lips blazing a trail down your body. He kissed your stomach, his tongue darting out to taste your skin as he went. Your breath hitched as he reached the edge of your shorts, his fingers hooking under the fabric and tugging them along with your panties down your legs.

He tossed them aside and sat back on his heels, his gaze raking over you. "Fuck, baby," he whined, his voice thick with need. "You're so fucking beautiful like this. Spread out for me, please."

Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your ears. He leaned down again, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh. You shivered, your legs naturally parting wider for him. "Good girl," he murmured. "You know what I want. May I?"

As soon as you eagerly nodded, his mouth slowly descended on you. He let a small bead of saliva fall onto your folds, letting it slowly trail down toward your clit, the sensation made you huff and shiver. He started to softly lick and kiss your innermost thigh, then moved on to circle around your clit and opening.

His edging and teasing practically hurt you, causing a whine to escape. "Mhmm, baby." He soothed, rubbing your back with his thumb.

Then, he struck.

His tongue quickly landed on your clit, licking and sucking in a way that made you see stars. You cried out, your hips moving off the bed. His surprisingly strong hands gripped your thighs, holding them in place as he devoured you relentlessly.

"Chase!" you gasped, your voice breaking on his name. Your hands tangled in his brunette hair, tugging desperately as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. "Please… please…"

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you with a smirk. "Please what, baby? Need something?" His voice was dripping with mock innocence, and it drove you wild.

"Need you," you panted, your body trembling with need. "Please, I need you inside me."

His smirk turned into a grin as he repositioned himself so he could look down at your pretty face before adjusting his glance to your pretty pussy. He led with his fingers. His thumb rubbed your clit as he slowly slid one digit into your pussy, making sure to not hurt you. You looked up at him with a pleading whine, causing him to slowly add another. He began to slowly rub you from the inside, getting into a pattern that drove you crazy. He noticed your thighs start to tense and eyelids start to flutter, signaling you were close. He stopped rubbing and looked down at you before you could feel his fingers slowly leaving.

"Chase-" you breathed, looking up at him with a weak glare. You needed your orgasm and weren't sure how much more of his edging you could tolerate.

"I know, baby. You're doing such a good job," He stood up and removed his own clothing agonizingly slow. Your eyes roamed over his body– his broad shoulders, toned chest and core, the V-line that led down to his cock, hard and waiting for you. You bit your lip, anticipation coiling low in your stomach.

He climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. One hand gripped your hip while the other guided himself to your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice suddenly more gentle.

You nodded, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, Chase."

He didn't make you wait any longer, thrusting into your soaking wet opening in one smooth motion. You cried out, your body stretching to take him as he filled you completely. He groaned, his head dropping to rest against yours as he stilled for a moment, letting both of you adjust.

"Fuck, you feel so amazing," he said against your ear. "So fucking perfect for me."

Then he was moving, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm that had you moaning with every stroke. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling them closer with each thrust. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper as pleasure built inside you.

"God, Chase," you panted, your hands clutching at his back. "You feel so–"

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, biting down on your lower lip as he thrust harder. He pulled back. "You're my good girl," he growled against your mouth. "All mine. Say it."

"Yours," you gasped, your voice trembling. "I'm your good girl."

He smiled against your lips, his pace quickening as he drove you closer to the edge. "That's right," he murmured. "My pretty girl."

The words sent a jolt of arousal through you, and you whimpered, your nails raking down his back. His consistent pace and hard strokes were bringing you to the edge. "Chase– I'm close–"

He didn't reply, instead he simply grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, changing the angle and hitting a spot inside that made you dizzy from pleasure. You screamed his name as pleasure exploded through you, your body convulsing around him as you came undone.

Chase wasn't far behind, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. "Fuck, baby," he whined, burying himself deep inside you as he came, his body shuddering with pleasure.

For a moment you two stayed like that, your bodies pressed together as you caught your breath. Then Chase leaned down to kiss you again, slow and deep.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your lips.

You smiled up at him, still breathless. "Thank you, baby."

yeah soooo go check me out on wattpad too @ mystic-mabelle !!

you are soso loved!! mwah :3