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swiftispunk · 5 months

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good to me, part one | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates for fic notifs

pairing: gynecologist!joel miller x female!reader rating: 18+ explicit word count: 3.3k

summary: with your usual doctor out, you're stuck having to get your routine pap smear done by the gorgeous dr. miller. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] doctor/patient shenanigans, smut (?) technically, medical kink, reader has anxiety, mentions of mild past medical trauma, mentions of blood, mention of menstruation, literally just getting a pap smear and all that entails, sexual tension, competency kink, praise kink, glove kink if you squint, sexually explicit thoughts, sweet joel kisses, one (1) pov swap, gyno!joel miller refers to pussy as "vagina" in his head because he's a serious professional. no use of y/n. disclaimer: obviously i am not a gynecologist ya'll so i make no guarantees that the language used here will be one hundred per cent accurate. this is wish fulfillment, not medical school. anyway this is just supposed to be a bit of silly, horny fun so pls just take it for what it is or scroll on by if it's not your thing thank you love you bye

part two | part three

a/n: thank you to every kind soul who heard me out on this one, with a special thanks, as ever, to cat @joelscruff for helping me make these visuals look pretty.

(part two is coming soon)

You've been psyching yourself up for this for weeks.

The last time you were here had been...horrible. Dry and nervous, you'd left spotting and sore, your doctor rushing through your routine pap with little regard for you or your comfort. You're dreading having to do this again.

What's worse, you don't find out until you're standing in the waiting room that your usual doctor is out for a family emergency.

"Dr. Miller is filling in," the receptionist tells you. "Are you comfortable with that?"

You're not really sure you are - you've never really felt comfortable having this done by a man - but you know you need to get it over with (you've already put it off longer than you should) and so in spite of your uncertainty, you agree to see the mysterious Dr. Miller.

Your nerves only heighten while you wait in the tiny, white room for him, palms sweaty, heart pounding in your ears. You try to avoid staring at the metal tray beside the bed, crowded with tools you're all too familiar with. It feels like you wait for hours, each minute passing slower than the last, and then he walks in. Your stomach drops.

Because Dr. Miller is gorgeous. All broad chested and tan skinned, white coat thrown over business casual attire, a light blue collared shirt over a pair of well-pressed trousers. Greying scruff and salt-and-pepper curls frame his warm, brown eyes while big, strong hands grip a clipboard, his gaze fixed on the files there till he looks up and meets your wide-eyed stare with a blinding half-smile.

Now your heart pangs with something else entirely, an involuntary warmth spreading between your thighs when he extends a hand out for you to shake and takes a seat on the wheeled bench before you, legs spread wide so the fabric of his trousers strains over his thighs.

Then he opens his mouth - and you're a goner.

"I'm Dr. Miller, s'nice to meet you, ma'am."

Your voice shakes when you tell him your name and he repeats it back slowly, checking it against the papers in front of him, almost like he's committing it to memory. You find he's polite and patient, his voice a low drawl that makes your skin tingle while he conducts a quick questionnaire.

How are you feelin' today?

Have you had a pap before?

When was your last period?

Are you sexually active?

And at that last one, you roll your eyes before sardonically telling him, no, openly bitter because it's been far too fucking long since you've had sex or even been touched the way you'd like to be. You're almost embarrassed at the slip of honesty, but Dr. Miller doesn't acknowledge it beyond a small, knowing smirk, enough to make your cheeks warm and your cunt inexplicably throb.

Then he tells you to undress from the waist down and lay out the bed, adds that he'll be right back, and the nerves return tenfold. When you slip off your bottoms and find a wet spot in your underwear, you hastily fold them into a tight ball and hide them under your chair, as if he isn't going to see the evidence of your arousal in just a few moments.

Paper crinkles beneath you as you sprawl out on the bed with your knees pressed firmly together, covering your bottom half with a clean, pale pink sheet. You prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at the ceiling, your heart still racing when a knock comes at the door and Dr. Miller slips back into the room.

All cool and calm, his demeanour does little to relax you.

"Read on your file you had a bad experience last time," he's saying as he wheels his stool to the foot of the bed and dons a pair of blue, latex gloves.

"Yeah," you tell him, voice weak.

"S'alright, I'll try and be real gentle," he assures you, readying the speculum with deft, competent fingers. You shiver at the daunting sight of it. "But it'll help f'you relax."

"Okay," you nod.

"Lie your head back."

You swallow tightly, and with some difficulty, you do.

"Come a little further down the bed."

You inhale a shaky breath, and again, do as he says.

"Feet right here," he instructs you, thick fingers grazing your ankles and guiding them to the very edge of the bed.

"Now..." he hums, moving to touch his hands to your knees. "Knees open for me."

You hold your breath as he coaxes your legs open, keeping your feet together so you're in a sort of frog position, and you suppose it's somewhat less humiliating than the stirrups but only just. Because now there's only a thin sheet of paper separating the beautiful Dr. Miller from your exposed pussy.

You've never felt more vulnerable in your entire life.

"There we go," Dr. Miller murmurs. "Alright so far?"

"Mhm," you lie.

"You're doin' great, darlin'."

Darlin'. Darlin'. It does the exact opposite of relaxing you, that word, the sound of in that honey-sweet voice of his making arousal pool at your core and a burning need to trickle along your spine.

"Thank you," you find yourself saying and Dr. Miller chuckles.

"Gonna move the sheet now," he warns you softly and you stiffen all over again, frozen, for a moment, into silence.

"Okay?" he presses you when you don't respond, prompting you to finally breathe a quiet, okay.

Cool air hits your cunt the moment he pulls the sheet up to your waistline and you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation, fearing the worst.

Patient experiences extreme dryness and suffers from anxiety. Previous exam led to bleeding and discomfort.

He'd heeded those warnings, read them over and over in your file, shaken his head when he'd thought of how your last doctor had failed you. Dr. Joel Miller takes care with his job, Dr. Joel Miller has never met a vagina he didn't respect, never met a patient he didn't long to help.

And he wants to help you. He'd been utterly charmed by your honesty, endeared by your sweet smile and kindness even through what he's sure must be crippling anxiety.

Anxiety that still seems to be plaguing you.

Poor thing, he thinks, when he sees you stiffen and squeeze your eyelids together, the evidence of your past experience written all over your weary features.

He's had patients like you before, knows there's only so much he can do when they're unable to produce vaginal lubrication. And frankly, he doesn't blame them. He knows there's nothing exciting about this procedure. He can try his very best, but sometimes the discomfort is inevitable.

Only - when he pulls back the sheet, all his prep goes out the window. Because you're not dry or tense at all.

You're wet.

More than wet, you're visibly aroused. Clitoris exposed, labia swollen and puffy, glistening with slick below the fluorescent overhead lighting. He can see the shining remnants of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs and it makes him wonder how long you've been feeling this way.

Oh, poor thing, he thinks again.

Of course, he's no stranger to this response either. Patients who seem...affected by him. That's not his ego talking either, he'd been told as much by a particularly bold patient once, though he'd ardently pushed back on the...compliment.

You know how handsome you are, don't you?

No seriously, this was easiest one of these I've ever had. That thing just...slipped right in.

He's got no way of knowing if it's him who's got you this aroused but he tries not to read into it too much; all he really cares about is doing his job, and making it as painless for you as possible.

"Still with me?" he asks.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Deep breath, darlin', relax."

He waits until your chest has risen and fallen in a long breath, in and out, and only then does he begin to inch towards the apex of your thighs with the silver, metallic speculum.

"Gonna touch you now."

He doesn't miss the way your walls twitch when he says that. And as much as he tries not to read into it, he's not sure he's ever had a patient this affected by him before.

"Okay."

He carefully uses two gloved fingers to spread you open, leaving your dripping wet hole fully accessible for him to touch the end of the speculum to. You flinch.

"S'cold, I know," he says sympathetically.

You whimper and Joel's shocked to find it stirs something in him, that sound. Something he immediately forces down, something very wrong, something he knows he shouldn't be feeling for a patient. He swallows hard and clears his throat, hums another sympathetic sound that seems to say, I know. I'm sorry.

"Doin' great," he repeats. "You're gonna feel a little pressure."

"Mhm."

But your face is still screwed up with worry, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip, brows furrowed with fear. He knows you can relax more. He knows he can make it better.

"Take one more deep breath for me?" he requests and you obey without question. Inhaling deeply, the crease between your eyebrows finally smooths out. And when you begin to slowly let the air out of your lungs in a long, steady sigh, he eases the speculum inside with hardly any resistance at all.

A hiss passes through your clenched teeth at the intrusion, the muscles surrounding your - admittedly beautiful - vagina tensing around the sharp, unpleasant metal.

"S'okay, doin' so good," he mutters absently as he focuses on adjusting the arms of the speculum, locking them in place to keep you open enough for him to let go and retrieve the spatula.

"How we doin'?" he asks as he works, glancing up at your face to find the worry line has crept back between your brows.

"Fine, good," you grit out. Joel smiles. You're brave.

"Almost done now," he assures you.

You are literally going insane.

You'd prepared for anxiety. You'd prepared for nerves. You'd prepared for fear.

You had not prepared for desire.

You're not even sure he's doing it on purpose, it's just...him. His low voice singing your praises and his careful touch making you sick with undeniable need, even though everything about the situation is decidedly unsexy. Your pussy is being pried open by the cold metal arms of a speculum and Dr. Miller is readying a small spatula with which to scrape a sample from your cervix and inner walls. You're lying in a goddamn doctor's office, for fuck's sake.

And yet - all you can think about are his hands - competent, sure, spreading your legs apart. His fingers - gentle, precise, lingering on your wet folds. His voice - deep and sultry, downright hypnotizing in its gravelly, rumbling drawl.

You resist the urge to squirm.

"Alright, now..." he mumbles to himself, hunching forward again and leaning in close. Too close. Not close enough.

"Might feel a little pinch here," he whispers and it really shouldn't make your pussy clench around the speculum when he says that, a rush of anticipation taking over at the thought of him being inside you.

Rather than squeezing your eyelids together in fear, this time, you force yourself to watch him, mesmerized by the relaxed set of features as he slips the spatula into your opening with practiced care. He's so broad, big shoulders and a wide chest that hover almost protectively over your exposed bottom half, melting your insecurities away as something about him just seems to scream safety, assurance, comfort.

And...hot. He's so fucking hot.

You do feel a little something when he inserts the tiny tool and runs it feather light along your insides, far more gentle with it than the last time you'd had this done.

"Still good?" he checks in, so attentive, and your heart stutters at hearing his voice again after such a long beat of silence.

The thought also crosses your mind that you bet he's this attentive in other departments too.

"Yep, mhm," you nod.

"Good job, almost there. Just hold on a little longer for me, okay?"

"Yes, sir," you say without thinking.

You mean it to sound like a joke but it accidentally comes out breathy and desperate and you instantly kick yourself for the stupid, stupid slip. Dr. Miller clears his throat and pulls back, turns away from you to deposit your sample and you think you see him shake his head infinitesimally as he does.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Right, gonna take this out now, ready?" he asks, turning back to you to fiddle with the arms of the speculum.

"Okay."

You brace yourself but there's really no need; Dr. Miller makes it altogether painless, murmuring a soft countdown under his breath before he slides the tool from your slick cunt. A trail of sticky arousal follows in its wake, the metal shining with you where he sets it down on the covered tray beside him.

It's done, you know it's done. But for a long, heated moment, you stay perfectly still, knees spread wide before him, pussy on full display. And Dr. Miller stays perfectly quiet.

Then he hums a deep, ragged sigh and pulls the sheet back over your open legs, kindly returning you to semi-decency.

"All done now, darlin'."

There's an elastic snap as he removes his gloves, the sound of wheels along tiled flooring and then Dr. Miller is at your bedside, looking down at you kindly because for some reason - perhaps the twisting ache of need in your guts or the fiery buzz of desire burning in your nerves - you still haven't moved an inch.

"Need a hand sittin' up?" he asks and somewhat dazedly, you nod.

Dr. Miller stands, towering over you as he holds out one massive hand for you to timidly reach across your body and grab. You let him gently tug you upright as you bring your knees together at last, cheeks warming when you remember you've have them splayed open for probably far too long now.

His hands hover over your arms as you pivot to hang your legs off the side of the bed, the film of paper under you sticking to your bare ass as you do. You face him full on, losing your breath all over again when you meet his warm, patient gaze and see that sweet, half-smile spread across his features.

"There we go," he whispers. "You alright?"

You swallow tightly.

"Yes, thank you."

Dr. Miller smiles, steadies you with two firm hands on your shoulders and you jolt slightly, his touch sending a charge down the back of your neck that you haven't felt in a very long time.

"Better'n last time, I hope?" Dr. Miller presses, his gaze nothing but patient as he stares into your eyes.

You try to smile but you're not sure if you do. There's a faint ringing in your ears and your head is spinning wildly as you stare blankly between his lips, jaw, and neck, transfixed. Dr. Miller is so close now, his chest right at your eye line, the phantom feel of his fingers still clinging to your skin and this is wrong, this is so, so, so wrong - he'd just been doing his job - but it's been so long since you've been touched like that by anyone and you fear if you don't get his hands on you again might actually cry.

He's looking down at you inquisitively, warm palms still lingering over your arms and oh, god, this is stupid, this is so stupid and so wrong, but he's so beautiful and he's so kind and it's been so fucking long -

You don't think, just fist the fabric of his cotton button-down and crane your neck upwards, catching his quiet gasp before you press your lips to his in a searing kiss.

It's desperate and needy but you don't even care, because Dr. Miller is kissing you back, the warm, whiskered feel of his lips on yours stealing whatever is left of your inhibitions. He tastes like mint and man and you press yourself closer, shivering as his fingers coil around your arms with just the right amount of pressure but -

Then he's humming a quiet sound of protest and the hands that grip your arms are prying you off him.

"Hey, hey, wait."

"Sorry - I'm sorry," you babble before he can get another word out. He avoids your eyes, gaze fixed on his shoes, while you burn hot with embarrassment before him.

Dr. Miller shakes his head and you await the scolding of a lifetime, for him to kick you out and tell you never to come back here again - and you'd deserve it, you know you would.

"Dr. Miller, I - "

"Mm-mm," he murmurs quietly, eyes still cast downward even as he holds up one silencing hand that nearly makes you swallow your tongue.

You shrink, wanting desperately to just run from the room as fast as you can, but Dr. Miller's other hand is still gripping your arm, holding you in place.

He sighs.

"I really don't do this kinda thing with my patients, ma'am."

"I understand," you nod shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"You...you're beautiful, I just - "

"Dr. Miller, it's okay. I'll just go, I'm sorry. That was so stupid."

You wriggle under his grasp to try and free yourself, but Dr. Miller steps closer to the bed before you can, caging you in.

"No, I - I mean," he shakes his head again, visibly warring with himself. Is this really happening? "I don't do this with my patients but I - "

At last, his eyes flit up to meet yours, sending your heartbeat into overdrive when you find his warm browns ablaze with lust.

Oh, god, it's really happening.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes, already leaning in again as his hands creep up your arms, so slow, so careful.

Then his lips are back on yours and you inhale deeply through your nose, arching to press your chest into his, gasping into his mouth when his arms begin to snake around your back and tangle at the nape of your neck.

It's like a switch flips.

You moan against him as you hungrily lick between the seam of his lips and Dr. Miller responds in turn, his tongue curiously dancing with yours as his mouth molds to yours with heady fire. Your entire body is alight with need, fingers wrinkling the pristine front of his shirt while his hands move to cup the sides of your face. He's so close - everywhere - but it's still not enough.

The pale pink sheet over you falls away as you wrap your legs around his middle and pull him into the cradle of your thighs so your exposed, wet heat is pressed against his leg, arousal marking the fabric in slick webs. You gasp at the contact where you need it most and Dr. Miller groans, grinding his hips forward in an almost unconscious way, making your stomach flutter when you feel the hard press of his cock against you.

Oh, fuck. His cock. You've been so hungry for his touch, you'd nearly forgotten how much more he could give you. How full he could make you feel. Suddenly, your mouth is watering. You have no idea where this is going, you just know you don't want it to stop.

Knock, knock.

"Dr. Miller?"

A voice on the other side of the door has him hurriedly tearing his mouth from yours, fumbling backwards, both of you gasping and turning to face the source of the sound.

"Dr. Miller? Your next patient is here. Just letting you know."

He clears his throat, running a hand through his tousled hair. His cheeks are pink, lips swollen and wet, fire still smouldering in his eyes.

"Uh, thanks, Denise," he calls back. "Be right there."

You both listen to the sound of Denise's departing footsteps and then Dr. Miller turns back to you and sighs.

"Shit," he whispers at the sight of you half-naked on the bed, still catching your breath as reality sets back in.

"Shit," he says again, averting his gaze and hastily moving around the bed. He grabs your sample and his clipboard, leaving you dumbfounded as he makes for the door, twisting to look back at you one last time.

"I'm sorry," he grumbles and then he ducks out of the room.

#gyno!joel #medical tw #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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headspace-hotel · 6 months

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Also on topic of Consent: whenever somebody says "Kids should have bodily autonomy!" some guy always is like "You are too unrealistic. What will you do when a kid is seeing the doctor and doesn't want to get a shot? Would you just let them refuse the shot?"

Yeah I probably would. You're straight up asking the wrong person if you want the nice normal answer here. Doctors and nurses forcibly doing (relatively routine) things to my body against my protests when I was a small kid fucked me up so bad that as an adult anything medical related is a huge trigger for me, I've had persistent intrusive thoughts and recurring nightmares about medical procedures, and I can't have even the most basic tests and health checks done on top of it.

I hate talking about it because I can't get comfortable calling it "trauma" and I don't have any other words that are useful, but it's made my life so much harder and really scary since if I start having a weird symptom, there's nothing I can move myself to do about it.

I figured out a loophole where going to a pharmacy instead of a doctor's office for vaccines reduces some of the stress, but I was still in stress and misery for days before I went to get my tetanus shot. The repulsion is so intense it feels like I literally don't have control over myself, it feels like I can't make appointments or plans about such things out of my own free will, and so every year I have guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt about how I should get the flu shot, and it does nothing but ineffectually hurt me.

Vaccines save lives and all that, but when it comes right down to it, I don't think it's actually a net benefit to public health to give any percentage of kids lifelong psychological scars so deep and painful they're almost completely barred from accessing health care as adults.

I know I'm not the only one, far from it.

#medical tw #consent #bodily autonomy #needles tw #doctors tw

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aiisba · 6 days

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I keep forgetting to post this picture of acht I made back before side order released

#splatoon #dedf1sh #acht #side order #my art #art #medical tw #just in case #eyestrain #i was somewhat suspicious of them while I was playing side order ngl i was waiting for them to pull something

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tortiefrancis · 1 year

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important reminder for people who menstruate:

if your cramps are so painful you can't do daily tasks, take care of yourself or get out of bed. if you pass out or vomit from cramps. if you can't walk or stand up properly from cramps. if you need to take pain medicine when you get cramps or else you will get sick, pass out, whatever.

seek medical help. people talk about how painful cramps are, and it's true, but there's a level of pain that simply isn't normal, and you need to get it checked

signed: someone who was recently diagnosed with endometriosis

#sam.txt #sam.message #psa #menstruation #menstrual cycle #periods #endometriosis #pcos #menstrual health #menstrual cramps #period cramps #health #emetophobia #emetophobia tw #medical #medical tw #ask to tag

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teaboot · 1 month

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seeing the NSFW question and answers you've got happening here

my vulva is really itchy and sore but I haven't had any kind of sex recently or even used any sex toys recently. I haven't changed my washing powder. I haven't douched ever or used soap inside my vulva or used any lotions or scents around my vulva. I last shaved 2 weeks ago with a razor and the same body wash I always use. I don't think it's BV or thrush and its driving me mad. help?

CW DISCUSSION OF REPRODUCTIVE HEALTH

Shaving public hair can increase your odds of developing bacterial infections, yeast infections, and UTIs, all of which can present as soreness or itchiness. Underwear made of synthetic fabrics can, too. High-sugar diets, hormone fluctuations, thong underwear, dehydration, bath water quality, and some lubes can, too, as well as touching without washing hands thoroughly first. Long nails especially are fantastic at holding onto and transporting bacteria and fungi. Antibiotics can cause these issues, and antibiotics can cure these issues. Medications, too.

Short and simple annoying answer: Could be anything.

I recommend drinking lots of water and cranberry juice and seeing a doctor- if it is BV then using a yeast infection treatment will burn like holy hellfire and you dont want that. Getting a urine test is your best bet.

In the meantime, again, drink lots of water and urinate frequently. Don't wash with soap, but do wash, and do so with clean water. Wear loose clothing when possible made of breathable fabrics like cotton. Change underwear daily.

I'm not a doctor or a medical professional. These are just things I've picked up through work and life. My first recommendation is always to contact a doctor, and if you start producing unusual discharge, experiencing pain during urination, developing sores, welts, or a rash, or end up with swelling or pain in your lower back, DEFINITELY seek medical assistance.

Good luck, bud 👍

#Body health #Germs tw #Infections tw #Medical tw #Medical procedures #Illness cw #Disease cw #Reproductive health

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generation-fucked-nostalgia · 5 months

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The Waiting room...

🏥|||🏥.🏥|||🏥|||🏥.🏥|||🏥

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crystal-bytes · 5 months

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MARVEL CHARACTER EVOLUTION

DARCY LEWIS

#marvelcharacterevolution #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #darcy lewis #thor #thor the dark world #wandavision #thor love and thunder #food tw #medical tw

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eponymous-rose · 5 months

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Just wanted to make this little PSA:

I know the US healthcare system is a dumpster fire, but if you do have access to preventative care, please consider adding a full-body skin exam to your schedule!

I naturally have a lot of moles, my uncle had skin cancer, and I've had two major/peeling sunburns in my life (your risk of skin cancer doubles with a history of a single blistering sunburn). Starting two years ago, I've been going in yearly to get everything checked out, and I've already had two suspicious moles removed. A friend of mine went in for the first time a while back (in part because I kept bringing it up) and they found a precancerous mole on the sole of her foot, of all places. One minor surgery and a couple weeks on crutches later, it's no longer an issue.

Another big risk factor is tanning beds - a friend in college was in a sorority that used to all go together fairly regularly, and two of them wound up having to get treated for aggressive melanomas by the time they turned 30 (the friend in question had multiple major surgeries, but is thankfully now cancer-free for over 5 years).

I'm not intending to scare people, but if you have a mole that's been worrying you (see the ABCDEs of moles), even if you don't spend a lot of time outside or burn often, just know that the full-body skin exam is a quick and easy way to get peace of mind. And yes, even those with plenty of melanin are still at risk of skin cancer and should make a habit of wearing sunscreen!

Having a suspicious mole removed is a super-quick procedure (takes about 20 seconds, including numbing), and they'll biopsy the sample and test it to make sure there are no cancer cells. All that's required from you may be going in to get one stitch removed a couple weeks later, or just keeping a bandaid on the area for a week and then moisturizing until it's totally healed to avoid scarring. The biopsy process is much less painful than something like a blood draw.

I was reminded of all this because I went back for my yearly exam a couple days ago (currently waiting on a biopsy of a mole that my dermatologist characterized as barely suspicious, but hey, took it off anyway for peace of mind) and man, it feels good to have someone look at the constellation of little shapes on my back and go "Yup, all normal!" Or even to have someone comb through my hairline to look for moles I can't see easily on my own. I thought going in yearly would ramp up my health anxiety, but it's at an all-time low knowing that anything bad that pops up has a great chance of being in a super early stage.

I also use sunscreen much, much more religiously.

#health tw #medical tw #cancer tw

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sketchesandnonesense · 3 months

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Im too tired to go door to door delivering the news to treasured mutuals n things so this is how im informing people lmao

Yesterday I got the bad news.

I have cancer again. This time on my liver.

Im gonna get a PET scan pretty soon here to check and make sure its not anywhere else

So, yeah.

It fucking sucks that I already failed my Singular New Years Resolution to have a better year than last year

If you wanna help, just support my stuff. Donate on my ko-fi if you wanna or buy Ms.Director for a friend, but also just reblogging my art n stuff helps me feel alil better.

One other thing you guys can do for me is just make sure the people in your life know you love them. Hug your friends alil tighter. Leave a comment on an artist or a writer's stuff. Leave a nice review on an indie game. Let people know when you love them.

Ok?

#ko-fi link on my page n y'all already know my game #cancer tw #medical tw

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faeriekit · 3 months

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#i'm very pro danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons previous installments

The next day, the body was back.

The green was gone from its eyes, but the awareness wasn't; it spent about an hour watching people go around outside Danny's apartment, which was new behavior. None of the corpses that shadowed him had shown any interest in garden-variety humans before. Now it sat at the window and watched families come home from school or head to their afternoon shifts.

That went into Danny's notes.

After that hour, it taught itself to flush the toilet repeatedly, rearranged the contents of Danny's half-assed linen closet (again) and then stood hovering over the safe where Danny had stashed the ectoplasm.

"...Okay," said Danny.

The dead body croaked. It was a new sound, but there was no context for it. Danny just kind of...wrote it down and hoped for the best.

The day after, Danny woke up at a very reasonable ten forty eight in the morning to find stray corpses feeding each other spoonfuls of ectoplasm in the kitchen.

At that point he kind of had to throw out the notes on how much each one was dosed with, because what the fuck.

"Really?!" Danny shouted, spooking the bodies into fleeing behind chairs and doors and back into his closet again. The only one that didn't flee was Danny's ringmaster corpse of the hour, of course. "You really couldn't wait??"

It stuck out a withered black tongue out at the mortician, who was, really, the victim in all of this. A victim to his parents' whims and a victim to the dead people who followed him around all the time.

This was how Danny found out that, when it doubt, the corpses could just tear through solid steel if they were motivated enough. The finger-marks were so deep and so embedded that they actually looked more like rough claws in the metal.

Great.

Danny ordered a new locking cage for the fridge on Prime and darted off to work. One of his regulars was on the table, though, so Danny just ended up doing what he would have at home— sewing up a gash in its neck and reattaching dead fingers back onto dead stumps.

On the third day, in which four of Danny's frequent fliers had learned from the first how to flush the toilet (and therefore raise the water bill immensely) Danny got a ring from a dark voice he (almost) recognized.

"Is he here?"

Danny squinted, jerking the phone further under his ear as he whipped up some scrambled eggs. The dead girl leaning over his shoulder leaned a little closer to watch the egg froth up. "Is who here? Who is this?"

"This is Batman. Is— the body requisitioned from your facility currently at your place of residence?"

Danny fully let go of the whisk. It landed haphazardly in the glass bowl he'd been stirring in. "What on Earth is a Batman?" he asked, incredulous.

"I visited your workplace previously."

Oh! "Yeah, the cop's friend. I remember now." Danny pulled the whisk out of the liquid eggs and held it out to the body. The unusually animate cadaver mostly prodded the whisk wires and paid no attention to him. "No one's here but me, though. Not that it's your business...?"

"And there are no non-living bodies currently in your apartment?"

Danny ignored the flushing noise in the other room. "I don't know, dude. They practically live in the walls at this point. Don't come over unless you have a warrant."

The call ended with a click.

His omelette turned out amazing, by the way. In case you were wondering.

On the fourth day, the ectoplasm was gone, because the corpses had apparently all taught each other how to lockpick the container in the fridge.

"Okay, some of that was meant to be my dinner. No more lotion at the funeral home now, okay? Now you all can be ashy forever. I'm so serious," Danny complained to the only visible dead person in the room.

The dead person held up a cracked egg. It was probably a gesture of peace, but now there was egg on his vinyl flooring to deal with. And. It wasn't exactly all that comforting in the end.

On the fifth day, Danny awoke to the sensation of a hand jamming itself through his neck until it punched into the mattress beneath him.

Fuck.

#dp x dc #I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons #could absolutely be an excuse for #talon!dick #talons #faer fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #death tw #well. the funeral industry anyway #medical tw #corpse tw #dead people #dcu crossover #the original post is free to a good home but I'm just chugging along here

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swiftispunk · 4 months

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good to me, part two | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates for fic notifs

pairing: gynecologist!joel miller x female!reader rating: 18+ explicit word count: 3.7k

summary: when the results of your pap turn up inconclusive, you once again find yourself in dr. miller's office. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] doctor/patient shenanigans, smut for real, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), medical kink, reader has anxiety, literally just getting a pap smear (again) and all that entails, dirty talk, pet names, sexual tension, competency kink, praise kink, panty kink, squirting, glove kink, one (1) pov swap, reader is described as wearing a dress. no use of y/n. disclaimer: obviously i am not a gynecologist ya'll so i make no guarantees that the language used here will be one hundred per cent accurate. this is wish fulfillment, not medical school. anyway this is just supposed to be a bit of silly, horny fun so pls just take it for what it is or scroll on by if it's not your thing thank you love you bye

a/n: thank you to everyone who showed part one so much love. you're all too good to me.

special thanks to @knopes-waffles for mining the depths of pinterest to find some pictures for this instalment. i love you!

part one | part three

You cannot believe you're here again.

Cowering under doctor's office lighting barely a week after your mortifying appointment with Dr. Miller. An appointment you can't seem to forget - no matter how hard you try.

His hands, his lips, his delicate touch, the feel of his hard cock pressing into your stomach...you can't shake him. Even if his hasty departure had left you humiliated and worse, unsatisfied.

When you'd touched yourself that night, you'd thought of paper sheets beneath you, gloved fingers opening you up, a low drawl telling you, good job, darlin', doin' so good...

And you know, you know that when that damned receptionist had called to tell you, "Dear, we're so sorry, your results were inconclusive. There's no need to panic, but we'll need to have you back," you should have just said no, found another doctor so you never had to show your face in that office again. Only then she'd said, "Dr. Miller is still in, are you okay to see him again?"

And despite your better judgment, you'd found yourself agreeing, a little too enthusiastic at the prospect of seeing him again. Maybe your...outburst hadn't scared him as much as you'd thought. Surely if he hadn't put you on a medical no-fly list, what you'd done couldn't have been...that bad. Right?

No, it was bad. It was very bad. You know that. But it occurs to you, the longer you sit nervously in the same examination room where you'd kissed him last week, that maybe that's exactly what you'd liked about it.

You're more daring this time, or perhaps just more practical, donning a simple sundress and a flouncy pair of lace underwear - mostly for confidence. You know he won't see them.

Your foot taps anxiously against the tiled floor until a light knock finally comes at the door, and Dr. Miller is stepping through, clipboard in hand.

You audibly gasp at the sight of him. He wears no white coat today, just an ivory button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thick, tanned forearms glowing even in fluorescent overhead lighting. His salt-and-pepper curls are loosely combed back out of his face, and whereas last week he'd entered the room with a sweet half-smile, today his features are hard, eyes cast downward at the files in his hand until the door is firmly shut behind him.

You watch with nervous exhilaration as he locks it.

Neither of you says a word as he places the clipboard on the desk beside you, turning his back to you to prepare his tools before going perfectly still, broad shoulders rising and falling as he sucks in a long breath.

Maybe the scolding is finally coming. You know you deserve it.

But then at last he turns to face you, striding towards you with slow, deliberate steps until he's close enough to touch, towering over you. You watch with bated breath as he extends a hand and gently cups your face.

You straighten at his touch, electricity coursing through you.

"On the bed, please," he whispers.

You want nothing more than to obey his command but -

"I'm still wearing my underwear," you protest, already breathless.

Dr. Miller just shakes his head, dropping his hand to step away from you and gesture towards the examination table.

He waits until you stand before nodding and turning away again, this time to take his place on the wheeled stool and rummage through a drawer by the foot of the bed. You warily perch yourself on the edge of the table, watching as Dr. Miller slowly slips a pair of blue latex gloves on. You swallow tightly at the familiar elastic snap, swinging your legs up on the bed in front of you and folding your hands in your lap.

"I'm sorry to make you do this all again," he says, his back still to you. "It was my fault your specimen was damaged. Got distracted and - "

"That's okay," you assure him honestly.

Dr. Miller chuckles, putting you at ease and taking you right back to last week, arousal sparking in your core in an instant.

"It's not," he contends, swivelling to face you with a soft smile. "But thank you for comin' back."

He places a hand on your ankle and you jolt at the touch, latex dragging across your flesh as he slowly glides his palm up your leg to your knee.

"Lie down," he breathes.

Your breath stutters and you do as he says, unfolding your spine down onto the paper sheet beneath you. Dr. Miller taps your shin gently.

"Little closer, darlin', you know the drill."

Fuck. You shimmy further down the bed, your knees curling upwards until you feel your toes hit the edge of the mattress.

"There ya go," Dr. Miller hums.

"I'm also sorry..." he continues, both hands now languidly sliding up the outsides of your legs till his fingers find the lace edge of your panties. "For how I left things last time - lift up for me, sweetheart."

Your heartbeat hammers in your ears, unflinchingly lifting your hips up off the table to let Dr. Miller pull your underwear down your thighs, up and over your knees to your ankles, past your feet where he finally lets them fall into a heap on the floor.

"Just caught me off guard, is all," he says, coaxing your knees apart with no resistance from you this time. Your sundress pools at your waistline, leaving your already wet pussy on full display for him once more.

"Fuck," he sighs, a sound almost pained.

You crane your neck to watch him staring openly at you, feeling yourself warm at his ravenous gaze.

"So you...you weren't mad at me?"

He tears his eyes from your pussy to shoot you a small half-smile. "Not at all. Couldn't stop thinkin' about you, actually."

"Me neither," you admit, returning his smile.

"Lie your head back," he tells you then.

It's nearly impossible to look away from him, but you work to obey his orders, letting your head fall into the mattress beneath you, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Gonna touch you now," he whispers, the same gentle warning he'd offered you last week.

"Please," you softly croak.

You hear his low chuckle and then you feel his hand trail up your inner thigh, taking his time as he inches towards your cunt.

"You know I have to ask..." he says, just as his fingers make contact with your folds, making you gasp, too loud. Whereas last time, he'd swiftly spread your lips apart and carried on with his work, this time he is slow, gently raking his digits from your hole to your clit, up and down, arousal squelching lewdly under his touch. "Have you been sexually active since your last visit?"

He's still absently running his fingers over your sex, so your responding, "No," escapes you in the form of a choked squeak.

"Didn't think so," Dr. Miller chuckles and now two fingers do spread you open, tracing wet patterns over your sensitive lips, setting your skin on fire as he touches everywhere but your clit. "Still just as wet for me."

"Mhm," you agree, not even bothering to deny it.

"Should make this easy, then," he murmurs, retracting his fingers to retrieve the speculum beside him. "Deep breath, now. Need ya nice and relaxed, darlin'."

Your chest rises and falls in a shaky breath as Dr. Miller nears your entrance with the shiny, metallic tool. Your eyes squeeze shut out of habit.

"Still with me?" he checks in.

"Yes."

He touches the end of the speculum to your hole, the cold making you flinch just as it had last time.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Dr. Miller coos. "Just a little pressure now, okay?"

"Okay," you say through gritted teeth.

"I got you, I got you," he softly soothes, pushing the speculum into you in a practiced, careful motion. It aches, the discomfort unavoidable, and your muscles tighten instinctively at the intrusion.

"There..." he's humming as he adjusts the arms, opening you up for him and locking the nasty thing in place. "Y'alright?"

"Yes - yes, Dr. Miller."

He groans at that, a sound that goes straight to your cunt, your walls fluttering around the sharp, uninviting edges of the speculum.

"Goddamn," he whispers to himself as he turns to gather the spatula. You peek up at him, watch as he deftly preps the tiny tool and swivels back around to hunch between your open legs.

"This perfect fuckin' pussy..." he marvels, leaning in close to rest the fingers of his free hand at the hinge of your hip, nearing your opening with the spatula. You shiver with anticipation, your head once again falling back behind you.

"You must...see a lot of them," you muse breathily.

"I do," Dr. Miller confesses with a grin, his voice low. "Couldn't get yours outta my head, though."

At that, wetness pools around metal and your core aches with emptiness. Dr. Miller seems to notice.

"So needy," he hums. "Just beggin' for some attention, huh? Someone to make her feel good?"

"Dr. Miller - please - "

"Shh," he cuts you off and it's just as well, you suppose; you're not even sure what you're asking for anymore. "Gonna feel a little pinch, okay?"

"Okay - okay."

He moves quickly now, but no less gently, slipping the spatula inside you and scraping at your inner walls with a feather light touch, pulling back just as fast to stash away the sample.

"Alright, all done," he announces. "Stay still, now, baby."

Baby has your fucking head spinning but you do as he says, frozen where you lay as he makes quick work of loosening the arms of the speculum and carefully easing it out of your dripping hole, setting it aside along with your sample.

He's back on you in a flash, gloved hands finding your thighs and holding them open so you couldn't even move if you wanted to.

"Stay still," he repeats. "Wanna do somethin' for you."

"Please."

Tell me to stop, he thinks. Tell me to stop and I will.

Maybe part of him wishes you would put a stop to this before he crosses yet another line. Because he really shouldn't be doing this here, not when you're still so powerless on the bed before him, not a lover but a patient. Hell, he's got another appointment lined up in just ten short minutes - though, admittedly, he's certain it won't take him that long to give you what he's hoping to give you.

Of course, if he were a stronger man, he'd stop himself. But he's not, so he doesn't.

Instead, he leans into the apex of your thighs, your soaking cunt calling out to him like a siren, pulsing expectantly right before his eyes. God, you need this.

He knows better than to jump right in with the obvious. How much more there is to work with. He's spent his whole goddamn life studying this part of the human body, the keys to making it feel good no exception.

And you need to feel good.

So he starts with a tease, pressing his lips into your inner thigh, hearing your quiet gasp above him, the sweet sound egging him on as he drags his mouth along your skin towards your core, licking his lips before planting a tender kiss against your folds.

"Oh," you whimper quietly, a breathy little noise, laced with desire.

Perfect.

He moves his hands closer, thumbs spreading you open so can see your tight, leaking hole and your aching, puffy clit. He breathes you in for a moment, lips hovering over your heat before his tongue darts out to lightly trace your entrance. His eyes slip closed at the taste of you, salty-sweet and warm against his tongue as he begins to lap at you in wide, sweeping strokes. You're squirming now, slick gathering on his tongue - just as he'd expected.

It's all about the build-up. He knows this.

"Taste so good, baby," he tells you earnestly, placing another wet kiss over your lips before pulling away.

"Dr. Miller - please," you whine, voice rising in volume as your desperation grows. "Don't stop."

"Shh, m'not," he assures you. "Stay quiet for me, though, okay?"

He reaches up to grip your hand against the paper sheet, squeezing down in a silent reminder.

"Mhm," you nod frantically, clamping your free hand down over your mouth. He smiles.

"S'Joel, by the way," he whispers. "My name."

Your breath hitches behind your hand and at last, he presses forward, closing his lips around your needy clit. He begins with patient little flicks of his tongue, up and down over the pearly bud. Your breathing quickens then, huffed hot through your nose and Joel smirks against you, eager to give you more.

He flattens his tongue as he begins to work over your clit in broad, languid circles and god, you like that, if the clenching of your stomach muscles and the binding grasp you have on his hand are anything to go by. So he applies more pressure, all while maintaining that same even pace as he swirls his tongue around your most sensitive spot.

It's something far too many men get wrong, he's learned. Harder doesn't mean faster. Gentle doesn't mean soft. It's all about intent, patience, attention to detail.

It doesn't hurt that he loves it.

It's why he's in no rush as he moves his lips lower to tongue at your hole again, plastering his mouth over your folds to reverently make out with your pussy. He knows the warmth can be stifling, a hot mouth closed over a hot cunt, knows it must feel all the more dizzying to feel his nose prodding at your clit as he daringly presses the tip of his tongue inside you.

Sure enough, your hips rise up off the bed to meet his mouth, a whimper getting caught behind your hand when it drives his tongue deeper into you. Joel hums his approval, sucking at the slick that pools at your core in response.

You're so fucking sweet.

He reaches up to press your hips down, never unlatching his mouth from you as he resumes his place over your clit. Only then does he increase the pace of his ministrations, now that he can tell you're starting to fall apart.

He just wants to try one more thing.

He pulls away from your cunt with a wet pop and you whine in protest, your eyes snapping open, wide and blown-out with lust. He pays it no mind; you'll be thanking him a second.

He untangles his hand from yours to swipe his gloved fingers over your soaking folds, watching you twitch as he grazes your clit, so sensitive. Then he focuses, touching the tip of his middle finger to your hole before slowly sinking it inside.

In his periphery, he sees your head fall back into the mattress.

"Yeah, that's it," he encourages you quietly, pumping his digit in and out until slick coats the latex. "You want more, baby?"

He sees you nod, hears you hum something that sounds like yes and it's all the encouragement he needs to add a second finger alongside the first. You cover your mouth with both hands now, fighting to contain a moan at the stretch. Joel smiles. He'd love to hear what you sound like when you're not trying to be quiet, to discover all the sweet noises he could draw from you.

Luckily, Dr. Joel Miller doesn't need words to know when he's on the right track.

Because now his fingers are searching, curling and beckoning inside you while his eyes scan your face, watching for the moment you -

"Hmmmm!"

There it is, he thinks, while the tips of his gloved fingers nudge at that spongy spot inside you and a series of high pitched sobs turn to muffled sighs against your palms. Your thighs quiver beside his head while your walls clench around him, confirming what he already knows to be true.

"Feels good, don't it?" he coos lowly. "Right there?"

You drop one hand from your face to clutch at his curls, tugging softly, pulling him in closer.

"Yeah?" he whispers, pressing forward to ghost his lips over your clit again, fingers still expertly working your g-spot. "I got you."

And he does. His mouth engulfs your clit and now he swirls his tongue over it in deliberate little circles, harder and faster than before, chasing your release now. His free hand sprawls out on your tummy, feeling it flex and loosen with each pulse of your walls around his fingers.

Should he make you squirt? He knows he could, if he just pressed down a little right above your mound, if he kept prodding at your g-spot and sucking at your clit the way he is right now. Already he can feel wetness dribbling over his knuckles, the fist you have knotted in his hair yanking hard enough to make his eyes water - all the telltale signs of a powerful impending climax.

Maybe not here, he decides, softening the press of his palm on your lower belly and instead sliding it up under your dress to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

And - fuck, that seems to have its desired effect. You cant your hips into his mouth as the squeaks catching in your throat begin to rise in pitch.

He hums against you, long and low, his eyes fluttering closed. Savouring you, because he knows it won't be much longer now.

A few more precise circles of his tongue and your body is seizing up beneath him, walls pulsating around his fingers. He doesn't let up his efforts as you come, drawing it out, taking care to make sure it lasts as long as possible. You tremble, shake with the force of it, thoroughly silent as release rolls over you, but Joel still knows. You do gush for him, just a little, warm liquid trickling down into his palm as he coaxes out the final waves of your orgasm.

He doesn't stop till he feels your muscles slacken and you're clawing at his scalp and while he'd love to keep going, to make you come again and again and again...he notes the hour on the clock on the wall and knows this is neither the time nor the place.

So he heeds your wishes, retracting his mouth first and then, slowly, his fingers. He removes his drenched gloves and tosses them in the trash, watching you carefully as you finally free your mouth from behind your hand to sit up.

"Fuck," you pant weakly, scooting hurriedly down the bed to meet him at the edge of it. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into an endearingly appreciative kiss.

You moan when he licks into your mouth to let you taste your come and all at once, his own desire catches up with him, feeling his cock strain behind the zipper of his trousers. He stands, kicks the wheeled stool out of the way and takes your face in his hands, hinging at the waist to kiss you deeper while you bow your spine to do the same.

Fuck, he wants you. A thousand different ways and a thousand different times. Your fingers begin to fumble with the buckle of his belt, arousal punching him hard in the gut but he knows -

It's neither the time nor the place.

"Shit, wait, baby," he sighs, sounding unconvincing, even to himself. Still, he fights to regain control. He pries your hands off him and places them at your sides, chuckling at the sight of you pouting up at him. He cringes internally when he remembers how shocked and dejected you'd looked when he'd left you last week - he won't do that again.

"Please," you beg softly and he almost caves - almost.

"Not here, sweetheart," he soothes, his hands once again cupping the sides of your face, thumbs stroking lightly over your cheekbones.

"Then where?" you press him and he chuckles.

He traces the slope of your lips with his fingers, memorizing the shape of you.

"Did I make you feel good?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

You nod.

"Do you want me to make you feel good again?"

"Please," you repeat, your voice oozing need.

He bends to press his lips to yours again - not quite a kiss, but something more like a promise. He swallows, reining himself in as he reaches behind him to grab a card off the desk. His card.

"Call me," he tells you as he turns back to face you, holding it out to you with one hand while he uses the other to gently stroke your hair. You stare up at him doe-eyed as he speaks, his tone all measured and even. "Let me take you out on a proper date, yeah? Bring you back to my place and show you all the ways I can make you feel good. What do you think about that, sweetheart?"

It'll be better that way, he thinks - for him and for you.

"Okay," you whisper, keeping your eyes on his face as you take the card from his outstretched hand.

Joel hums, leans in to kiss you one more time and then finally steps back. He straightens out his collar and runs a hand through his hair, scrubs a hand over his face and feels his scruff is still sticky-wet with your release. He smiles to himself when he thinks of how the scent of you will be trapped in his moustache while he tends to all his other patients today.

He collects his things and just about makes it to the door before he notices your underwear still bunched up on the tiled floor. He crouches to pocket them without giving it a second thought.

When he turns to face you this time, your face is all awed, mouth agape and eyes wide, fingers loosely clutching his card. He nods towards it with one hand on the doorknob.

"Call me," he says again. "M'serious."

"I will," you promise him, nodding fervently.

"Good," he winks, and despite how desperately he wishes he could stay, Joel steps through the door with one final steadying breath, leaving you behind - at the very least, more sated than last time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #gyno!joel #medical tw #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot

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