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laiiaaa · 8 months

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THE IN-BETWEEN — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home late again and takes you to bed.

length 2k

contents established relationship, another fluff vacuum (i serve the people), a teeny tiny bit of angst but nothin’ crazy dw!, so many kisses, sweet sleepy moments, Carm being a good bf, so so soft dom bc that's just who he issss, i literally melted while writing this i'm so soft for him

On later nights like this, Carmen’s used to coming home to a dim, serene apartment. A lamp left on in the corner of the living room because you hate to think it’s pitch dark when he arrives; so too the light above the sink because you know well by now of his habitual hand washing; a dark bedroom with your form fast asleep, yet loving enough to cuddle into his embrace when he joins you.

This is anything but.

You’ve left an album playing on that gem of a record player you found years ago—the one that had your face lighting up like he’d never seen before, beautiful and glowy and more than enough to have him falling for you. The kitchen lights are on, too, and there you are at the counter: perched in a stool, laptop open and glowing pale blueish light upon your sleeping features propped up in your hands.

Cute, he thinks with a warm grin blossoming on his face.

Peeling off his coat and toeing off his shoes, he takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair as he begins unwinding for the rest of the night. He brings the music to a stop and tucks the record away back in its sleeve, and he turns the living room lights off, as well as the harsh overheads in the kitchen. He spots a few stray dishes from whatever dinner you had earlier and is a little irritated at the thought you had to cook for yourself—that’s his job—but he’s at least grateful you ate without him eyeing you to do so. He washes them by hand, wincing and turning over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t startle you when the fork slips from his grasp and clangs about in the sink. Slowly, he closes your laptop and lifts it from the counter, handling it with care as he packs it into your bag and plugs it in so it’s ready for you by morning.

The lights are off and the apartment’s filled with little else other than muffled commotion of the city when he finally decides to take you to bed. Easing himself behind you, his hands brush ever so gently down your arms to your elbows, his chest coming to meet your back and shoulders as his chin settles into the crook of your neck. As if on instinct, your head nuzzles closer to his.

“Hey, baby,” he coos, and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

You groan softly and rub your face into your hands, and Carmen commits this moment to memory. Adorable.

“You want me to take you t’bed?”

“Mmmm…” you drawl, clearly too tired to think, or to speak, or to walk yourself to the bedroom. You rub your eyes a little more deliberately before he thinks you’ve come to. You whine a little and it makes his chest flutter when you say, “Hi, Carmy,” your hand reaching over your shoulder to tangle your fingers into his curls.

Carefully he sweeps your hair out of your face, and he cranes his neck to check up on you, smiling when he sees your sleepy pout and your eyes still closed. “Hey.” Another soft kiss to your jaw. “Whatchu doin’ in here so late, hm?” The tip of his nose nudges against your cheekbone. “You should be in bed.”

“…Wanted to see you when you got home…”

“Yeah?”

His heart is full and his head swirls with affection at your words—not that they’re new or unheard of, but that they’re constant. They’re not something you’ve ever denied him, instead being an affirmation: I want you here. And maybe it’s not so much the fact that you say those words but the fact that you always prove them. Working away into late night hours, drowsy and lethargic at the counter instead of cozying under the covers, leaning into his touch when he finally comes. You want him around, and that’s all he could ever ask for.

“Mhm. Was workin’ on a project ‘n got tired.”

He hums. “I can tell.”

The bridge of his nose caresses your cheek before you turn to face him, and for a moment the two of you let it linger that way, foreheads resting against one another as his hand comes to cup your cheek, and yours comes to circle around his forearm, like you want him tethered to you. His fingertips graze along your neck and it makes your eyes flutter shut, coaxed back into that sleepy haze that has his heart swelling at the thought of you being so comfortable with him. There’s a hint of guilt, though, in knowing you had to wait on him—that he can’t always be at home with you at normal hours, that you spend more time with him asleep than you do awake on most days, that he’s stuck between two worlds and one always seems to be winning.

And that guilt increases tenfold when you kiss him gently and murmur against his lips, voice groggy as much as it is yearning. “I miss you, Bear.”

His gut wrenches and brow furrows as he swallows it down. “I know, baby, I miss you too.” Another sweet lip lock has him itching for the weight of you in his arms and on his chest. “So much. But I’m here now, yeah?”

“I know…I just wish you were home a little more.” Your voice is small, like it hurts you to say it.

He picks up on it, how you say you wish he were home instead of wishing you could simply see him more. Because truthfully, you see each other as much as possible. In the mornings before he heads in for work; stopping by for family and having him stick by your side till he’s needed for service; brief lunch breaks where he runs home to make you something before heading back to the kitchen; late nights with moments before sleep—nights like this. But they’re not the same as being home all the time, he knows this. Those moments are clouded by the looming presence of his work, a clock limiting affection exchanged. They pale in comparison to a full day together.

He knows it’ll never be enough to fix it but he tells you anyway: “I’m sorry.” Eyes closed, he offers another kiss to your lips and it lingers. “ ‘M gonna figure somethin’ out, though, okay, baby?”

“You will?”

Nodding against you, a furrow in his brow at how sweet you sound, he assures you, “‘F course. I’ll…I’ll take more time off, hire new people…”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do.”

“You don’t, it’s okay.”

“Stop that. You’re important to me.” I love you. “I’ll make it work.” More than I can wrap my head around.

You answer him sweetly, the way that lets him know you hear exactly what he’s left unsaid. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He kisses you one, two, three more times with his hands cupping your jaw, feeling your exhaustion seeping through and slowly circling around the chair to stand at your side. “C’mon, you should get back to sleep.” He almost waits for you to stand and hold his hand before you’re already leaning—melting—into him again, head pressed into his chest as your hands loosely grab for his, fingers intertwined, and it has him swooning. “You need me to carry you?”

“No,” you grumble, “I’m jus’ really tired…”

He looks down and thinks he could get used to this, you being clingy with sleep, and he rubs a hand along your back. “Mhm?”

“Mm, ‘m sorry…jus’ gimme a second…” You begin sitting yourself up again with his arms as leverage before he interrupts you.

“Uh-uh, c’mon.” Grabbing your arms, he bends over and loops them around his neck as he waits for you to cozy into him. “I’ll take care ‘f you, okay?” He smooths his hands down your waist and over your hips to tenderly squeeze at your thighs, cupping his hands under your knees to urge your legs to wrap around his middle. “Alright,” he sighs, taking note of how you’re being lulled into your slumber again as he wraps one arm tight around your waist with the other supporting your thigh. “Up you go…”

He lifts you up and out of your chair, and your breath tickles his neck, and your body slumps against his just right as you exhale a soft groan. It dazes him, knowing he misses this so often. So often he sees you only after you’ve turned yourself in for the night that he’s nearly forgotten the in-between: that blissful grace period where you’re not quite fast asleep and not quite awake, when your kisses are long and drawn out with a wash of fatigue, when you hold onto him like he’s all you’ve got. Carrying you to the bedroom, he counts his blessings, and they’re bittersweet. Moments like these will forever be cherished yet he wishes they didn’t have to be.

The door opens with a creak and he’s careful not to let you go when he pulls back the covers. Wordlessly, he leans over again to lay you down, and there’s a bit of resistance at his neck before he lets go of your torso in exchange for unwinding the arms around him, pulling the blankets over your figure. Within seconds you’re cozying up again and turning to face his side of the bed, luring him to lean over you one more time to smooth back your hair and press his lips to your temple.

Quickly, then, while thinking of you, he strips and showers and gets himself ready for bed. A simple yet endearing routine: the shampoo you coaxed him over to, the body wash he buys because he’s convinced you snuggle closer into his chest when he uses it, towels fluffier than the shabby squares of fabric he used before he met you. It’s in the routine that he thinks of you like he does any other time of day, smiling to himself over all the little things you’ve brought into his life to take care of him—and in turn, to make him take better care of himself.

He’s never fully understood that about you, how you make him gentler, kinder. He just knows there’s a softness in his chest when you’re on his mind—which is practically all the time—that makes the good things good. Good days turn remarkable and the bad ones become a little less so. He remembers to eat better, to check in on himself when he’s stressed, to ask you for help, to be a better chef, a better boss, a better brother, and a better lover. He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but he knows you’ve changed him into a better person. He only hopes he can show how thankful he is for you—for showing him he’s deserving of something good.

Finding you again, he climbs into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around you and waiting. Waiting for that moment that comes like clockwork, when somehow, by some mechanism he doesn’t have a name for just yet, you creep a little closer, relax into his touch and tuck your head beneath his chin once you know he’s there. He’s lost count of how many times it’s happened and it never feels like anything but the first.

His chest swells, a tender smile grows, and his hands smooths along your back beneath your shirt as he kisses the top of your head. Slowly but surely he’s lulled into his own sleep just by feeling the slow beat of your heart close to his, content with the thought that by morning your bodies will be further intertwined and he’ll get to witness the in-between all over again: your soft hands running through his hair, his lips trailing from your neck to your jaw, laughter muffled into his chest when he pulls you on top of him.

Tomorrow seems like a good day for some time off—and maybe even the morning after that.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 2

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chloeangelic · 5 months

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the paper salesman

Brother's best friend!Jim Halpert x f!reader Rating: 18+ My masterlist I Max's masterlist

Summary: You spot your childhood crush at a birthday party and end up in his room together.

Warnings: Smut, AU where Pam does not exist, alcohol, oral (f receiving), handjob, semi protected PIV, creampie, squirting.

A/N: Well, well, well, if it isn't me and my froggy friend @macfrog back with another fic. But this time, it's not satire - this one is actually serious, and we are taking full advantage of everyone's teenage crush on season 2 Jim.

Word count: 6k

You pick at the edge of your wine glass, nodding along as the sound of your brother’s girlfriend talking about work turns into a low, buzzing sort of hum, indistinguishable from the other voices in the room. It seems that turning thirty was the catalyzing event for your older brother’s birthday parties to turn from all-nighters at clubs to barbecues at his new house. The attendance changed too — what used to be a crowd of girls in tight, short dresses has been replaced by a landscape of coworkers and childhood friends that he has reconnected with over the past year.

There’s a couple people singing karaoke by the TV across the room, and although neither of them are singing in tune, you cheer them on as you half-heartedly listen to your future sister-in-law’s story. People are scattered around in groups of two, three, or four, chatting amongst themselves against the tapestry of multicolored string lights and framed photos. You can’t imagine your brother had much to do with the interior design choices, and assume Stacie took him to the department store and filled a shopping cart with lights and lamps and frames that would make the living space for two thirty-year-old men a little less bland and sterile.

But still, despite the obvious decorative touch of Mark’s girlfriend around the room – you can’t help but wonder which parts were chosen by his roommate.

Jim Halpert – your brother’s best friend for as long as you can remember. Six-foot-something, polite and awkwardly charming. Lingering on your front steps to walk with Mark to school, backpack slung over one shoulder, or waiting patiently in the kitchen doorway while your brother finishes eating dinner, a basketball sat in the ‘c’ of his elbow. Making a whole lot of nothing conversation with your mom about school, about how his brothers were doing, growing bashful when she’d bring up girlfriends.

He’s five years older than you, but that ten-year-old ghost of yourself would sit twirling the fork in her fingers, mindlessly dragging mashed potato around her plate. Watching the way he’d toss the flicks of fringe from his eyes, cross one foot over the other as he answered every incessant question of your mother’s with the dutiful respect of a well-raised boy. Your crush was obvious back then, easily spotted by her whenever Jim stayed for dinner. You’d look away, bite back your smile and try to stifle your laugh at his jokes, hoping he wouldn’t notice. That little crush stayed with you, despite the boys you went on to date in high school, and the ones you slept with and tried to get serious with in college to no avail. Every time you came back from the holidays, Jim would inevitably show up for dinner one day, and you would revert back to that shy ten-year-old, sitting in the same seats as you did back then.

You watched him become a man in front of your eyes, and by the time you started getting physical with your first boyfriend, little thoughts began to weasel themselves into your mind about Jim. It was entirely inappropriate, and that curiosity should have directed itself exclusively to the boy who had taken you out to the movies, to prom and to homecoming, but you wondered what Jim looked like shirtless, you wondered about his experience, about the size of his cock. One weekend in your freshman year of college, with nothing else to do but to visit your parents, you tagged along with Mark to his basketball game, and sat on the bleachers with your eyes glued to Jim, to the sweat that darkened his jersey and the undeniable bulge in his shorts. He came up to say hi after, his brown hair drenched with sweat as well, looking at you through stunning green eyes as he asked how school was going. You made him laugh with a story about a professor, and the sound of his chuckles echoed in your mind the rest of the night. He had moved out of his parents’ house by then, and started working as a salesman at a paper company in town.

He still works there – as far as you know, at least, based on what he told you the last time you saw him, picking him and Mark up from their high school reunion two years back.

Mark had drank a little too much and had needed Jim’s steady arm around his shoulder to direct him to your car. You swallowed down the butterflies which quickly took flight in your stomach as you watched the two figures stumble towards your Honda, the taller of the two lending you a small smile as he slotted your brother into the front seat. You kept your composure right up until he closed the front door, and then you sped all the way home with your heart racing and your blood pumping.

“Some people are just allergic to receiving help,” Stacie announces, yelling a little over the screeching of the karaoke mics. She’s rambling to one of Mark’s coworkers – Hal? Sal? – about one of her co-workers, some new kid fresh from college who can’t work the printer by himself and refuses to let her show him.

You’re about to get up for a refill when a weight slides onto the couch by your side, nudging you with a sweatered elbow.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he mutters, and when you turn, your breath catches at the sight of those familiar green eyes and flicks of brown hair.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers awkwardly lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear. You feel a heat flush into your cheeks and pray it doesn’t show in an embarrassing dewy glow to Jim. “Cool party. Karaoke’s a nice touch.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, giving you his signature smirk. His voice is so deep, a little husky even, as he sits close, “It’s an easy way to keep the guests entertained without me having to do much of anything, or your brother, for that matter.”

You hum in response, reluctantly annoyed that Mark is already at the front of his mind when he sees you. “Are you still working that paper job?”, you ask, raising an eyebrow and hoping that your nerves don’t come across, that he’ll simply consider you as flirty to everyone if your attempts don’t land.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, picking at the label of his beer bottle for a moment.

“Salesman of the year?”

“Well,” he chuckles, his head tilting to the side, a little unsure, “Maybe sometimes.” Is he embarrassed? Shy? You watch his eyes as they flicker up and scan the room. “What are you up to these days?”, he asks when his eyes land back on you, flaring open for a split second before they settle on yours.

“You know,” you shrug, eyes looping once around the room, “Working, the usual.” You feel your chest tighten with an urge to come up with something more fucking interesting than work. Your fingers hooked behind your ear again, you sputter, “Got my hair done last week.”

Jim smiles, reassuringly so. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “I can tell. It looks good. I like the, uh –”, he points a little haphazardly, “The way you styled it. Suits you.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks swell in a genuine smile, averting his gaze as the compliment seeps into your skin. You twirl the stem of your glass in your fingers, and Jim knocks a knuckle against the rim.

“You need a top up?”, he asks, standing up.

“Yeah, actually,” you reply, taking his hand when he offers it and pulling yourself to your feet.

You follow him through to the kitchen, dodging the erratic arm movements of some guy chittering to Mark about stocks, and over to the fridge. You lean your hip against the counter, watching as Jim carefully refills your wine and slides it back across to you.

You take a tentative sip under his watchful gaze, and raise your eyebrows, nodding subtly in approval as you swallow, “This is pretty good. What’s a guy like you doing with decent wine in his fridge?”

He lets out a nervous laugh and looks around, takes a sip of the glass he poured himself. “I actually got it for a, uh- a date, a couple weeks ago,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, looking out through the dining room, “She said it was good so I figured I’d get some for tonight.”

Oof. A tinge of jealousy makes your stomach curl, and you take another large sip, forcing it down as you think of what to say. You can still hear the out of tune melodies from the living room, though the silence between you and Jim drowns out the noise. “What did you do?”, you ask, hoping you can mask your jealousy with a sneaky tone.

“Took her to dinner a few times, walked around a bit, came back here and had some wine.”

You want to gag, just a little bit. “And how come she’s not here tonight then?”

“Didn’t really, uh– didn’t really work out, so…”

“So you’re just sitting here day in and day out with her wine in the fridge, waiting for her to come back?”

Jim breathes a laugh, pushing the air from his cheeks, “Alright. Wow. That one stung.”

You giggle, taking a step closer, “I’m just messing with you,” you say into your glass. Each splash of alcohol over your tongue filling you with more courage.

He tilts his head, eyebrows cocked, “Tell me about your love life, then, up on your high horse.”

You stifle another girlish giggle, using it to mask your reaction to the awkward question. Your love life – if you could even call it that – has been even more miserable than Jim’s sounds. Messages left on read, painful first dates with jocks still stuck in their high school eras, with uptight career men who only cared to talk about themselves, or with guys who had weird hobbies and left you to pay the bill for a date they asked you on.

You’ve gotten good at avoiding the topic with your mom, turning it instead into conversation about Mark and Stacie, framing it into a question of, When are they thinking of getting married? Having kids of their own, right, Mom?, but standing in front of the one guy you’ve been shamelessly crushing on since you were ten years old – it becomes a little harder to divert.

“Uh,” you mumble, the rim of your glass balanced on your bottom lip, “I’m – I’m just taking some time to myself right now, you know? Focusing on me.”

He grins, almost gleeful. Electricity pulses through your veins. “Nice save,” he tells you, tipping his glass towards you, “I hear what you’re really saying.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” he says, matter-of-factly, “You also got dumped at Red Lobster.”

You snort, then apologize, closing your eyes and trying to stifle your grin as you try to collect yourself. “Red lobster,” you clear your throat, “That’s pretty bad. At least it wasn’t Chili’s. And I would know, cause I got dumped at Chili’s.”

The two of you keep it together for a few moments, looking at the floor, until you meet each other’s eyes and burst into laughter, having this absolutely pathetic little thing in common. The sound of his laugh makes your chest flutter, the sight of his smile and his hand running through his hair. He wipes the tears from his eyes as he looks at you, and you bite the tip of your tongue, trying to halt the uncontrollable giggles that make your stomach hurt.

When you’re composed, a couple more swigs of wine down your throat, you settle back against the counter and say, “So. When’s the tour leaving?”

Jim’s eyebrows lift, “The tour?”

You nod, “House tour. Mark hasn’t shown me around yet. The most I’ve seen is your downstairs bathroom.”

He scoffs. Pushes off from the counter, the wine in his glass splashing, “He’s a terrible host. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Your heels click along the tile floor as you squeeze between bodies, heading for the hallway where Jim pauses. “Bathroom,” he says, nodding to the door right by the stairs, “But you already knew that.” He steps back against the wall at the first step, holding a hand out to usher you up first. “Ladies first,” he says, smiling genially.

You snort, but waltz by his body, holding onto the handrail as you climb the stairs carefully, the alcohol mixed with your shoe choice making it a dangerous feat. Jim’s close behind, footsteps slowly echoing your own, and you can’t help but think of the tight, short skirt of your dress, the way it hugs your thighs, the placement of his gaze as he wanders up behind you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you look around at the assortment of doors, waiting for Jim to tell you which room serves as the first stop. You can sense him right behind you, slightly to your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking down at you, swallowing slowly. “Mark’s room,” he says, nodding to the right and waiting until you look up at him before he takes a step over and opens the door. He lets you peek inside, look around until you nod and step back, before he urges you forward, towards another door.

“Upstairs bathroom,” he remarks, and you give the room a similar examination, noticing the streak-free mirror.

“Looks… clean,” you say, as if there’s anything better to say about a typical bathroom. He gives a muttered thanks in return, then points to the last door.

“And that’s my room.”

“May I?”, you grin, then step fully inside, looking around at his bed, his dresser, and finally, his desk. You sit down in the office chair and give it a test spin, before your attention is caught by the art on the wall. “What’s this?”, you ask, while he steps in as well, hesitating for a second as he looks at the door, opting to leave it open before he comes over and sits down on his bed.

Jim’s head wobbles as he searches for an answer. “It’s – well, it’s – you know. It’s…a print that I…liked.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Not a clue,” he responds, quick as a bullet. “I saw it at a yard sale – thought it went with the colors of my bedsheets. That’s how interior design works, right?”

You smile, “Sure. You’re no Stacie, but – sure.”

Jim nods. Your eye is drawn to the dip in the bed where he sits, the weight of his wide frame on the mattress. His open thighs, his elbows resting on his knees, wine swirling as he slowly rocks the glass. He slowly lifts it to his lips, taking a sip without breaking your stare.

You cross your legs by instinct. Your skirt rides a little higher. Jim glances down, and then straight back up. You can feel your blood thrumming through every limb, every part of your body sensitized and alight. It doesn’t help any when he stands from the bed and wanders over, towering over you as he looks at something on the desk.

He reaches over your shoulder, and you can smell his cologne on his sweater, sharp and fresh, a hint of something sweeter. He pulls a photo frame from the shelf behind you and turns it around.

“Graduation,” he says, and your eyes are drawn down to the cheesy grins of him and your brother, donned in black mortarboards and sweeping gowns.

You nod, pretending you’re paying attention. But he’s so close that his jeans rub against your bare legs, so close that you’re staring up just to meet his eye. Your palms begin to perspire, his voice turning into a blur as he points to a couple other frames, photos of people you didn’t recognize in places you couldn’t quite place. The rest of your wine is downed in a single sip, the glass carefully placed behind you, on the surface of his desk.

Jim seems to have finished recounting memories to you, but he doesn’t move. Stays stood over you, his own drink forgotten on the floor by his bed. A silence falls between you – but not the thick, awkward kind of silence you’re used to around guys. It’s lighter, it’s breathable. It swirls around your limbs like the fluttering feeling in your belly, wraps tightly around them and pushes you to your feet, the back of Jim’s chair rocking against his desk.

You’re eye-to-eye, your chest pushing gently against his. He glances down to your lips, wet with wine and the dabbing of your tongue, and then back up. He leans in, curving around your shoulders to set the photo frame still in his hand back on the desk. When he straightens up again, your hands find his chest.

You stare at one another, seemingly a thousand words exchanged between your soft, drunken gaze and his – and yet, none of them pass your lips. There’s a weight on your waist – Jim’s hands either side of your body, squeezing the tight fabric of your dress. You tilt your head, moving closer, lips parting. And he leans in.

He kisses you, slow at first. Your hands lift to cup his jaw, steady yourself on the weight of him. All of your past selves begin to bubble to the surface, each one lighting your skin, pulling on every nerve. Jim feels warm, his lips wet and sweet from the alcohol. Your nails sift through his hair, tugging gently as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. He groans lightly, seemingly as hungry for you as you are for him, holding himself back, handling you with a care and gentleness you hope he might set aside. You’ve wanted him for so long and you’ll let him do anything, you want all of him, you want him to ravage you and fuck you until you stumble down the staircase and until you can never look your brother in the eyes.

There’s a smashing sound from downstairs and a squeal, followed by a chorus of disappointment from the other guests. It splits the two of you apart, bumping teeth as your lips disconnect. You’re both panting, hot breath occupying the space between you. You can feel the hardness of his bulge pushing against you, and your arousal building, spreading to the tips of your breasts as your nipples harden. He’s huge, you can already tell, and you swallow around a lump in your throat, trying not to think of how long it’s been since you felt a man inside of you.

Jim smiles, still holding you close to his body. Your hands wrap around his wrists, and you lean into him again to whisper, “I think we should close the door.”

He nods, and steps back to let you by. You close the door slowly, letting it thud into place as quiet as you can, despite the obvious chaos happening downstairs. When you step back towards him, his eyes are on yours, hands reaching out to pull you closer, one around your waist and one around the nape of your neck, letting you melt into his hold while he locks his lips with yours. You hope he can’t feel the rapid beating of your heart or the dampness of your skin, letting your hands fall to the edge of his pants and starting to fumble with the button.

You start to unzip his jeans while he walks you back towards his bed, licking into your mouth and nibbling on your lower lip. You slip a hand down over his clothed cock, carefully palming it and feeling the girth and contours against your skin. He lets out a slight grunt at your touch, moving his hand down to squeeze your ass cheek through your dress, his large hand grabbing your flesh and kneading it with the aggression you’ve been hoping for, just a hint of it coming through in the firmness of his grasp.

He reaches the bed as you draw your hand out of his pants and dip your fingers behind his waistband, feeling the goosebumps spreading across his skin, grabbing hold of the stretchy fabric and lifting it up, over his erection, pulling it down alongside his pants to see his cock hanging free, flushed and wet at the tip. You bite his lip before you pull back to look, and can’t help a whimper escaping your throat as you brush your fingertips along his length. It feels endless, long veins bulging out that you trace with your nails. He's so thick, wide at the root, all the way to the tip. He can't possibly fit inside but you clench at the thought of him trying. Another pearly bead of precome spills out from his slit at your touch, and with his hands still grasping your neck and the meat of your ass, you gently rub the pad of your thumb over this head, feeling the slick slide of his spend beneath your finger, then wrap your hand around him, fingertips not even close to meeting, and stroke him slowly.

Your breaths are shallow, rapid, and when you feel your mouth start to water at the sight of his cock sliding through your hand, Jim pulls you back in to kiss you, grunting and groaning while your hand slides rhythmically up and down, making him throb with arousal. He moves his hips, fucking into your grasp with hushed moans that send your head spinning, your cunt pulsing.

Jim begins to peel the dress from your shoulders, slipping the fabric down until your breasts are exposed, the chilly edge of the air hardening your nipple. He pauses, watches the rhythmic movements of your soft, supple tits as your hand pumps up and down, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. His fingers dig deep beneath the ruffled fabric, tugging it lower and lower until he’s lifting your hips, disturbing the lace of your panties as he discards the dress to the floor.

You pause as he strips the sweater from his shoulders, tossing it to some corner of the room before he’s back on you, the slick tip of his dick leaving sticky trails on your lower stomach.

“You’re so, so good at that,” he murmurs against your lips, sentence broken in two by another hot, wet kiss. Your eyes roll at the taste of him, the strength of his tongue against yours, the hunger with which he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, letting it go only to fill your mouth with himself again. You push at the edge of his jeans and boxers, bunching them up in your hands and tugging at them until he takes over, bringing you with him while he takes them off, leaving him bare and you in only your little scrap of fabric you call your panties.

He pulls you in as he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap, letting you wind your hips, dragging the silky lace of your thong up along his hard length while you lick across his tongue, while you swallow his saliva and feel the ridges of his cock bumping against your clit. At the sound of your whimpers, he picks you up in his arms, lays you down on his bed, and settles between your legs, leaving wet kisses up and down your neck, trailing down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and licking it slowly. Your back arches, the slick of your arousal beginning to seep out into the panties he teases with his fingers, hooking them under the thin straps and slowly pulling at them as his lips trail down between your tits, slowly over your stomach, reaching the very top of your mound before he drags the straps over your thighs to reveal you for him.

You open your legs and Jim presses into the underside of your thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes focus on the sight of you, spread open in front of him, his tongue lifting to run along his lips. You sit up on your elbows, glossy eyes watching as he leans in, a trail of kisses dotted along the seam of your thigh, until his lips are hovering over your throbbing cunt.

“Jim,” you whisper, sifting your fingers through his hair, moving it from his face.

He looks up and you share a glance, a message sent wordlessly from your eyes to his. A smirk pulls across his lips, reading your mind instantly. He lowers his jaw and his tongue drags a long, soaking stripe up your slit.

Your grip tightens in his hair, head thrown back to the blue sheets. Your throat catches a lewd moan before it has a chance to cut through the air, exposing you both to the guests downstairs. Sorry, you whisper, but he shakes his head. “You don't have to be quiet,” he reassures, leaving his gaze on you as he leans back and gives your clit a few wet licks, kicking up your sensitivity and making you clench. He must be able to tell, because just as you tilt your head back into the pillow while he kisses and licks at the part of you most sensitive and needy for his attention, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, stretching you gently as he curls them. He presses into a spot so tender you can't catch the moans spilling out between your lips, begging for more when you're already so close, having fantasized about this for years – his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you, softening you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, so much thicker and longer than you could imagine, big and hard and bound to let you feel him tomorrow.

He begins to suckle, swirling his tongue until you grip his hair and moan that you're close, so close, and he releases you from his mouth, still sliding his fingers slowly in and out, moving to place kisses to the inside of your thigh. You let out a huff, and hear a faint chuckle from between your legs, licking and kissing at your skin, right beside your outer folds, close to where you need him.

Another wave of arousal crashes through you when he makes contact with your clit again, a wet drag of his tongue making you whimper and pull at his hair harder, trying to keep him right where he is until he lets you come. Jim pulls around your clit, lips sucking and tongue flicking as his fingers pump in and out, winding your orgasm like the tide withdrawing, only to let it crash forward in a flood of pleasure.

Your back arches, breath freezes to nothing in your throat until your climax passes, washing over you in heavy, shuddering ripples. You pant, your chest heaving as you look down at the smile on his face, the evidence of your satisfaction glistening on his lips.

Jim pushes himself up from the mattress, knees planting firm between your open legs, fisting his cock over you. You blink the room back into focus slowly, feeling the bed dip by your ear. He settles on top of you, looking down to guide his cock to your needy and spent sex. His tip presses against your hole, sensitive and soaking, and he glances back up.

“Jim?”, you whisper, chest heaving when you feel the subtle intrusion at your opening.

“Yeah?”

“I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me.”

Mhmm, he teases the tip around your entrance, lets the thick head of him slide up to your clit before he glides back down, gently pushing in, a tiny little bit of pressure, not enough to make you wince but groan instead, hating and loving how he teases you. Another push, his tip lodged inside, stretching you open further than you thought possible, while your pussy drools down his shaft, sucking him in and covering him in your wetness. He grunts quietly, not immune to the wet, warm clutch he’s sinking into, inch by inch, while you wrap your hands around his jaw, looking into his bright green eyes, lids hooded, breaking the eye contact to glance down at where he enters you, letting out a breathy moan when you suck him all the way in and he reaches your cervix. He hisses when he retracts, gliding out so slowly, covered in your shiny slick.

You arch your back when he reaches the end of you again, leaning down onto his elbows so his lips can press into your neck, kissing you like he has all the time in the world, little licks to your skin while he glides out and presses back into you, letting you adjust to his size, making space for himself and soothing you as you’re overwhelmed by him. Your legs come to wrap around his waist, tilting your hips slightly upward to let him reach deeper, moaning his name and incoherent curses, grabbing the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, feeling your clit rub against his pelvis, bringing you closer so slowly you barely notice it happening.

You lower your arms, slipping your hands under his and lacing your fingers. Your knees bend, resting against his ribcage. With each brush of his hair against your clit, he moves faster, thrusting harder, pushing deeper. Tiny yelps leave your mouth the more he fucks you, the more the bed rocks, the headboard knocking against the wall. Your head turns, moaning delicately into his ear as he sucks on your skin.

“I know,” he whispers against your pulse, “You feel so good, sweetheart. So tight around me.”

“Jim,” you’re whining, gasping for air each time he pushes all the way in. You let go of your grip on him and drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers toying with his hair, slowly dampening with sweat. Each glide of his cock inside you ends with a sweet bite of pain, his tip hammering roughly into the edge of your cunt.

His teeth graze the sensitive skin below your jaw, leaving behind marks you’re silently hoping will still be visible in the morning. His hands travel downward, taking hold of your waist and lifting you up to his body like you weigh nothing at all.

“Here,” he says, slipping out of you, thick white thread dribbling between your pussy and his cock. He motions for you to sit up, beckoning you with a flick of his fingers. “Come here, put your feet on my calves.” You oblige, planting each foot behind his thighs as he kneels. “Now lay down, just relax,” he coos, wrapping both hands around your waist to pull you up into a bridge, letting you dip your shoulder blades onto the sheets. He lifts one hand away from your side and guides his cock back into you, giving a few slow strokes with his palm, pushing gently on your stomach.

Then his hands grip your hips tightly, he pulls you back onto him and gives you a moment to stabilize before he fucks into you even deeper than before. Your tits slide up and down your chest with every single one of this deep thrusts, and you watch his eyes as they stay glued to your body, his mouth hanging open, panting, grunting, digging his fingers into your flesh, trying to hold back while you squirm and writhe, moaning and whimpering, not giving a fuck who might hear it, trying to keep his name out of your mouth in case someone needs to use the bathroom next door.

He pounds into you, hitting the softest, most tender spot inside of your body, your head rolls back on his pillow, tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, feeling him in your stomach. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck,” the words are forced out of you just as a warm stream of liquid squirts out of you, drenching his groin and making him groan. Your orgasm is so intense you nearly howl, feeling more and more of your arousal dripping down his shaft and spurting onto his pelvis, soaking the sheets beneath you, getting wet and sticky with your come and his sweat, watching his hair stick to his forehead while he continues to fuck you, needing every last drop of your climax.

You’re fucking spent, but he won’t relent quite yet, flipping you over and onto all fours, yanking you back by your hips. He enters you from behind and you groan in satisfaction, needing him right there, just like that, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. His hand twists in your hair, wrapping it around his palm and tugging at it while he grunts, rough and loud in your ear, nearly drowned out by the lewd smacking of your ass against his hips.

Your hand dips between your legs, fingers rubbing messy circles around your swollen clit, thinking how many times you’ve dreamt of this exact scenario with your fingers buried inside, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm by the mere thought of Jim. And now, feeling him, the tug on your hair, the ache between your legs, the hoarse cries jumping from your throat.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Jim grunts, wet slaps cutting between his words, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feel good?”

“Yes, Jim,” you whine, your hand jerking with each meeting of his hips on your ass. Come dribbles down the seam of your thigh as you feel your second high begin to wind, white heat flooding downwards. “So – fucking – good. Ah, I want you to come inside me.”

“You sure?”, he pants, holding on by a thread.

“Yeah, I – I’m on the pill.”

Jim pulls you upright by the hair, flush against his stomach, and places his hand over yours to rub your clit together. You lean your head back against his shoulder, body freezing as you come for him again. He groans when you pinch around him, movements becoming sloppy.

“Oh – oh, fuck, I’m – I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moans, lips pushing hard into your neck as he twitches and then stills, and you feel the warm spurts of his come deep inside. The two of you groan, strangled and drawn out, collapsing on the bed with his arms around you and his cock softening inside. You listen to the sounds of the party downstairs, the two of you trying to catch your breaths, and he kisses along the back of your shoulder, brushing his thumb back and forth where it rests over your waist.

“What are we gonna tell Mark?”, he asks.

You pause for a beat, then turn your head to him, “We’re telling Mark?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted it. I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want it to be more than that, so at some point–”.

“More than what?”, you respond, your heartbeat returning to its heightened state earlier in the night.

“More than just sex.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really into you,” he whispers, “I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me but it seems like you do, so–”.

You shift around to face him, push his sweat damp locks away from his face and look into his eyes. Shy heat floods your face as you smile at him and nod carefully, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You wanna go back downstairs?” he asks, fingertips ghosting down your spine before he reaches your thigh and hooks your knee over his leg, “We have Islands in the Stream on the karaoke machine, I know you like that song.”

“Sure… In a bit.”

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert fic #jim halpert fanfic #the office fanfiction #jim halpert

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tasteracha · 1 year

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a/n: you didn’t think your first one night stand would turn out like this

you didn’t really know what to expect when you got the courage to approach the cute guy wearing a leather jacket at the bar you were at. you didn’t expect him to buy you a drink along with his own. you didn’t expect for him to fend off other guys approaching you with a warm hand on your back. and you certainly didn't expect your own mouth to open and ask him to take you home that night. it was only when he agreed that it hit you with a sobering thought; you’ve never done this before. you didn’t really know how it worked, and you had no idea what to expect.

what were you thinking, going home with a guy you just met? it shouldn’t matter that he was built like a greek god, or that his car smelled like new leather, or that the sight of his hands gripping the wheel made you press your legs together in the passenger seat. the nerves were setting in and it was too late to do anything about it.

but the night was amazing.

he fucks into you slowly, savoring every stroke even when you beg him to go faster. he brings you to your high again and again, holding himself at bay to give you pleasure. when he finally comes it’s with a breathless moan as he drapes himself over you, pressing his entire body to yours.

he cleans you both up, handling your limp body with utmost care. he holds you when you sleep, his hand resting over your heart, and you never could have asked for anything better than this.

or so you thought, until you woke up alone in bed with cooling sheets next to you and the sweet smell of coffee invading your senses. you’re disoriented as you stand, searching around for something to wear before landing on one of his oversized shirts on the floor and a pair of boxers in his drawer. you creep out of his bedroom, walking on bare feet until you reach the doorway to his kitchen. your lips curve up when you see him humming at the stove, two steaming mugs next to him as he stirs eggs in a pan. he turns and spots you and his face lights up, eyes crinkling into little moons that glint in the morning light.

“i made breakfast,” he says as he plates the eggs next to buttery toast, balancing both plates on his arms and grabbing the mugs to set them on the bar counter. he takes your hand, guiding you over to the stool and helping you sit like the gentleman you’ve always dreamed of.

did you fall into a fairytale somehow? it sure feels like it.

“i like seeing you in my clothes,” he smirks, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth as if he didn’t make you flush from your head to your toes with one sentence. he pushes a mug of coffee towards you, blinking widely until you take a sip and you almost moan at how good it tastes. the eggs are done perfectly to your liking, the toast is buttered evenly and toasted just right, and it’s almost too obvious of a choice when he asks you shyly about whether you’d like to see him again. of course, you said yes.

this may have been your first one night stand, but you’re hoping with him that it will be your last.

#skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz imagines #lee minho smut #lee know smut #lee know imagines #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts

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lcvejoy · 7 months

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and we hold onto this (for whatever reason)

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw!: angst, breakups, food mention, crying, other than that it’s fluffy and sweet. not proofread

word count: 1,248

a/n: literally wrote this in 10 minutes and didn’t read it over so i’m sorry if it makes literally 0 sense lmaoooo. i hope y’all like it!! (also this picture of wil is so cute hes so-)

there’s a stale feeling in the air as you’re surrounded by your friends. a large table, a potluck dinner, laughter and 5 different conversations, all while brown eyes with your same sadness across and to the left of you attempts to impossibly avoid your gaze.

wilbur joins in one of the conversations, you can hear his laughter and smooth voice. it’s all that seems to reach your ears as you play with the food on your plate. you missed the sound of his carefree and light voice, his laugh sweeter than nectar. a pang of sadness hits your chest like a tidal wave. a feeling you’ve invited to the dinner table often these past few weeks, but having him here in front of you, hearing his voice and laugh in the room and not in your head, has made the sadness hurt even more. it hits your chest, knocks the wind out of you, makes you feel like you’ve been thrown backwards.

“y/n? did you hear me?” a voice comes from your right, causing you to flinch and drop the fork in your hand. the sound is loud, it makes you physically cringe as you hear the conversations die down and feel multiple eyes on you. you lean down to grab the fork,

“no, sorry. what were you saying?” you respond quietly, looking over at your friend and placing the fork down beside your plate.

“i asked if you were okay. you seem like you’re in space” they say, voice quiet and full of compassion. you nod, forcing a smile on your face. how weird is it to be seen, studied, known. your friends see through you. you wonder if wilbur does too.

“yeah” you whisper, “i’m okay. sorry. didn’t get much sleep last night” you let out a light laugh. they smile back at you, a half-crooked, sad smile. a hand reaches up to squeeze your shoulder - as if to say ‘i know you’re lying, but we don’t have to talk about it’, before they turn back around to continue their conversation. you finally look around as conversations have sparked back to life, scanning the table before reaching wilbur’s spot. he’s looking at you. his mouth slightly agape, his eyes sad. you hold his gaze for a beat, before grabbing your fork and standing.

“m’gonna go wash this” you mumble for no one in particular to hear, as you scurry to the kitchen. you sigh as you reach the room, running your hands through your hair and leaning down onto the counter. the wound of yours and wilbur’s breakup is still so fresh, still so new, still prone to infection. seeing him is harder than expected, but this get together had been planned for too long for either of you to cancel.

with another sigh, you grab your fork and turn on the tap, beginning to wash it. your mind wanders as you grab the dish soap and sponge - you planned a future with wilbur. you thought he was the one. your parents loved him. god, you loved him. you wanted all the stupid, gross, lovey-dovey shit with him. a big wedding, a small family, a white house with a fenced in backyard, cats and dogs, growing old together. you would’ve done it all with wilbur.

“i think it’s clean” a familiar voice cuts through your thoughts. you flinch, dropping the fork into the sink. your head whips over to the voice, seeing wilbur standing there, looking at you. you hadn’t noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks until he brought you back to reality, causing you to quickly wipe them with your sleeve. you sniff, “well, yaknow, just had to be sure” you chuckle, though it comes out sad and strained.

there’s a silence, the air feels heavy, as you both just look at one another.

“y/n…” wilbur starts. you shake your head. “don’t. it’s okay” you reassure, breaking your gaze from him to look down at the fork in the sink. you grab it, walking over to the dish towels hung over the oven handle.

“i’m sorry” wilbur whispers.

“i said dont, wilbur” you sigh, looking back up to him. he looks just as broken and disheveled as you do.

he nods his head. a silence washes over the room.

“i miss you” his voice cracks, his eyes gather tears but he quickly wipes them away.

“wil-“

“i know we agreed it was best to part ways but it’s killing me, y/n” wilbur cuts you off, his voice is quiet but filled with emotion. you stay quiet, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you take shaky breaths.

“i-its so hard. so fucking hard to pretend im okay with this. that im fine. t-that i really believe it’s for the best” wilbur chokes out, he gulps before continuing, “because i don’t. i don’t think it is.”

you close your eyes to avoid the tears forming. you shake your head.

“wil, please stop” you beg “we both have other things to focus on. i mean, you have the band and-“

“oh, fuck the band!” wilbur shouts. your eyes shoot open to look at him as he brings his fingers up to pinch his nose bridge. he looks at you “fuck the band. fuck streaming. fuck everything, y/n. if it means i lose you, i don’t want any of it.” wilbur’s voice calms, it’s quieter.

you sigh and shake your head, “i would never ask that of you. you know that” you whisper “you love that band. and you love touring. and you love making music. and i love watching you do it, wil, i love seeing you happy but i-“ your voice breaks as a tear falls down your cheek, “but i cant sit there and wait for you to make time for me anymore. you were busy and you were happy and i waited and it’s fine but i- i couldn’t wait anymore. a-and all your promises, all the missed dates, all the times i spent sleeping alone, i just- it was too hard.”

wilbur takes a step towards you, searching your face for a reaction. when you don’t react, he walks over to you, standing in front of you. hesitantly, he reaches his hands to cup your face, wiping your tears with his thumb as his own tears fall from his eyes. he leans down and rests his forward against yours. a shaky sigh escapes your lips as you breathe in his scent.

“then i’ll wait for you this time” he whispers, “whenever you’re ready for me, i’ll be here. ready to change, to do whatever it takes, to show you the love you deserve.”

a wet laugh escapes your lips as you sniff, reaching up to hold his forearms as you close your eyes.

“i love you, y/n” he whispers, “i don’t think i’m capable of not loving you.”

you nod. “me neither” you agree.

his forehead leaves yours, being replaced by his lips. a lingering kiss on your forehead. he steps back, grabbing hold of your hands as you both look into each others teary eyes.

“whenever you’re ready” wilbur whispers. you nod - “okay” you whisper back. he smiles, as do you, before he walks out of the room.

you look down at the fork on the counter. a forgotten task. you smile, leaning over to pick it up. inspecting it in your hands. a breath, a sniff, a final wipe of your eyes.

whenever i’m ready, you think.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fic #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur

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crazyk-imagine · 5 months

Text

Breakfast and Shocking News

Pairing: Theo Raeken x Pack member!reader

Characters: Theo Raeken, Pack member!reader, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Liam Dunbar, Malia Tate (Hale), Lydia Martin, Derek Hale, Peter Hale

Warnings: Fluff, post show, Theo is probably ooc, cute pack moment, Isaac should have been in season 6a/b and the movie so I brought him back, I got lost in tw fanfic tiktoks and now I'm back on tw

Word Count: 918

Is this the start of a series like my gym one for Triple Frontier? Maybe, we'll see.

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

You make another bowl of pancake batter, making sure to make more than you did last time. God, that was a mess.

You had to calm down three of them and Stiles should know better than to throw a fit in front of everyone. He's older than them for god's sake.

You shake your head and scoop more batter into the second pan you have going.

Footsteps entering the kitchen alarm you but enough to make you worry.

"Hey," he pecks your cheek.

"Someone else could be up, you know."

"I already checked." He taps his ears.

"Really?" You stare the chimera with a deadpan expression.

"Yeah, really," he says sarcastically, smirking at you afterwards.

"You're not cute."

"Oh, I think you're wrong. I'm," he wraps his arms around your waist. "Adorable and as your adorable boyfriend, it's my duty to tell you that," he pecks your neck, the spot underneath your ear. "Your pancakes are close to burning."

Your eyes widen. "Oh, crap." You remove yourself from his grasp and remove the pancakes from the pans. "Go sit down. You can get started on breakfast before everyone else wakes up."

"As long as you eat with me." He turns off the stove, pulling you with him.

"But I-"

He sits down, pulling you down beside him. He prepares your plate before making his own. "Eat." His free arm wraps around your back, his hand landing on your hip, keeping you close.

"Sometimes I wonder how you were ever a bad guy," you comment, cutting up your pancake.

"Stiles says the same thing but more sarcastically."

"It'd be alarming if he didn't use sarcasm." You look for your glass and realize you didn't get something to drink for either of you. "Do you want milk or juice?" You look in the fridge.

"I'm not Liam."

You purse your lips. "Just because he's younger and doesn't like coffee, doesn't make him a child."

He gives you a look.

"Don't be mean. He's a nice guy."

You reach for a mug in the cabinet.

"He has a crush on you."

"He does not."

"He follows you around like a puppy."

"He says I'm like an older sister to him."

"So, he doesn't get his ass kicked."

"You got punched by him at least three times."

Theo scoffs. "Did he tell you that?"

"Everyone has."

He shakes his head, stabbing his fork into his food. "I let him."

"Sure, you did." You place the mugs beside the plates and sit back down. "I'd still call you to kick somebody's ass for me," you tell him, wanting him to feel better.

"Yeah?"

You nod, "of course I would. Also, not to mention how hot you look when you shifted."

"You think I'm hot?" He turns to you.

You pause in your bite, slowly swallowing. "No?"

"You do. You think I'm hot."

You scoff, pushing him away. "I didn't say that."

"You said I'm hot," he repeats to tease you.

"No," you whine when he leans in.

"What did I just walk into?"

You both freeze, slowly turning to face the human of the pack. "Hey, Stiles."

"Don't "hey Stiles" me." He points between the two of you. "What's a- what's going on here?"

"We're having breakfast."

"You're looking a little close for people having breakfast."

"What's it to you?" Asks Theo.

"Something you want to tell your friendly neighborhood FBI Agent?"

You two glance at one another and shrug. "No."

He nods and ventures over to the coffee maker. "I don't buy it."

Some of the other pack members wander into the kitchen.

"Did Stiles find out?"

"Little bit," you tell her, pinching your fingers together, leaving a bit of space between your thumb and index finger.

"I don't get it."

"He's about to figure it out," Liam tells the were-coyote.

"Oh."

"Wait- you guys know they're dating?!" Stiles screeches.

"Uh," Malia, Liam, and Brett make the same noise.

"No?" Scott chimes in.

"Oh, please. It was painfully obvious from the start."

"How did you get in?" The true alpha asks Peter.

"When I got here," Derek adds.

"When did you get in?" Stiles asks.

"A few minutes ago."

"Is everyone here?" Malia asks.

"Now, we are," Lydia interrupts.

"Great. How many of you knew these two were dating?"

Everyone raises their hands, except for Liam.

"Okay, I'm not the only one."

"I was the one who got them together."

"Oh, great so everyone knew before me."

"Guess so," you shrug.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We knew you'd judge."

He scoffs, "I wouldn’t-"

"I asked you a hypothetical question and asked how you would feel if I was dating someone from the pack."

"Uh huh... and?"

"You said rip the band aid off and I said Theo. You told me to put the band aid back on and pretended I didn’t say anything after that."

"And your point is?"

"You didn’t want to accept it therefore I didn't actually tell you."

"I can- I can accept it."

"You can't," Isaac pats his shoulder before pushing him out of the way.

"When did you get into town?"

"This morning."

"Hence the big batch for breakfast," you answer.

"You knew he was coming?"

"Of course, I did. I picked him up."

"I did," Theo corrects you.

"It was a team effort, sweetheart." You pat his knee.

"Ew. Please, I'm trying to enjoy my coffee."

"Like you need something else to get you all jittery," you tell the human.

He sarcastically laughs in return.

Taglist

@kmc1989

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #theo raeken #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken imagines #theo raeken fanfic #theo raeken fanfiction #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken x you #theo raeken x pack member reader #theo raeken x pack member!reader #crazyk-imagine

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sare11aa11eras · 1 year

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Actually I think Jon coming to King’s Landing could have been incredible. For various reasons but like. He’d go to the Tourney of the Hand and watch Loras give Sansa a rose and at first he’d be like. Literally whatever. The Hand’s daughter got flowers at the Tourney of the Hand fork spotted in kitchen. But then all his brain alarms would go “!!!! Some southern fucker just gave flowers to a Stark girl at a tourney!!!! I have a working understanding of geopolitics of the last 20 years!!!” And he would Have to go wreck Loras’s shit in the training yard (since obviously Dad Isn’t Allowed To) and they would beat the crap out of each other and Jon would absolutely hiss and snarl at Renly too if he got mad enough and anyways that’s how Jon becomes like attached to Renly and Loras, like they are one shouting match away from becoming a toxic gay throuple of outsider youngest sons, and Ned is watching this sweating bullets waiting for either the Targ-Baratheon Grudge Genes or the Stark-Baratheon Attraction Genes to win out. Arya is highly dubious of everything going on and Sansa just wants people to stop kicking the shit out of each other so she can go back to not paying attention. Renly is trying to figure out whether letting his possible new boyfriend’s?? dad get fucked over by his sister in law is like. going to play well or not.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #vi stop talking #like to be clear nothing about this is cute. they are beating the shit out of each other and it’s getting homoerotic is the thing.#jon snow #loras tyrell #renly baratheon #agot #the tourney of the hand #ned stark #sansa stark #arya stark #asoiaf au #admittedly I don’t know that Jon knows abt the tourney of harrenhal like. literally does he know abt the rose crown???

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starboyshoyo · 1 year

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Departure

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: angst, mentions of alchohol and parties

Warnings: Angst, longing

After you leave the world of Twisted Wonderland, what happens next? Your presence fades from the world and no matter how hard your former lover tries to remember, they can’t seem to figure out what they’re missing.

When Riddle Rosehearts gets off of a long shift at the magical hospital, he opens a creaky door to a lonely, empty house. He takes off his work clothes, back aching and shoulders tired, and sets a pile of paperwork down on his kitchen table. No matter how hard he works, there’s always more to do- no reprieve in sight.

Riddle thinks there used to be someone to help him take his coat off, back when it was still a red-and-white school uniform. Their hands were soft when he held them, body warm when they snuggled up together in the night. But when he tries to picture their face, there’s nothing but fog. Maybe he should go to sleep. When he wakes up, he’ll rationalize to himself, and shake off the doubt. It must have all been just a dream.

When the lights go out in the Kingdom of Hearts, the glow from the Clover family’s bakery is the only source of warmth for miles around. Trey Clover spends hours behind the counters, prepping dough for the next morning and wiping down tabletops- his workload has increased ever since his two younger siblings got married and moved out. He wonders when they’ll begin families of their own, and leave him behind. At least his parents are still here, even if they do nag him a bit.

When will you find your special someone, Trey? We’re getting older, you know, and we won’t be around forever. We want you to be happy in the future.

Trey will just laugh, and get ready for dinner. Sometimes he’ll add an extra plate, an extra fork, an extra chair. Where did that habit come from?

The empty spot glares at him from across the table.

Cater Diamond has become a media sensation since he graduated from NRC. He has a whole new Magicam account now- it’s labeled under a brand name with glamorous photos plastered across the feed. Cater playing guitar on stage, Cater eating dessert at a world-famous restaurant. The pictures are always staged perfectly- lights, camera angle, and the space around him is accounted for. Cater is living the best life anyone could ever ask for. But if you peek a little further in, you’ll find his old account, back from his school days.

Upon first glance, everything seems as it should be- Cater is still perfectly dressed in every photo, the angle just right- but there’s a weird negative space around him, as if something- or someone- is missing. No matter how brightly Cater smiles, he can’t fill the camera frame all on his own.

Everyone at Rose Kingdom University knows Ace Trappola. The heartthrob, the fuckboy, the one with all the girls. He’ll go to parties every weekend, drunk on strobe lights and warm liquor from someone else’s lips. But every time he takes their hand and allows them to lead him elsewhere, he feels like he’s betraying a person who doesn’t exist.

Ace can’t seem to lose himself in the moment anymore. Even under the cover of darkness, even tangled beneath sheets and hiding in corners and behind walls, there’s always a phantom gaze he can’t seem to shake off. Somewhere out there, Ace is breaking a heart- and he doesn’t even know who it belongs to.

Deuce Spade never seems to know what to do with hands nowadays. During his time at NRC, he would busy them with various tasks- homework, casting spells, fixing broken things around campus. Feeding flamingoes, baking tarts, waving to his friends- it all seems so far away now.

Riddle always said that idle hands made for mischief, and Deuce has to agree. These days, he does other things to keep busy- mostly throwing punches to the walls. None of the neighbors seem to complain about the noise. Maybe they’re scared of him. Maybe they’re right to be. Deuce thinks there was someone here before, who would have told him to stop bruising his knuckles and get to studying, but he can’t find them anymore. So he’ll paint over the cracks in the walls of his tiny apartment and in his heart, covering them up without filling them in.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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ot3 · 3 months

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The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere: Poignant, Mind-Bending Sci-Fi Yuri at its Finest

I went and wrote a review for the Flower that Bloomed Nowhere covering the 5 categories Royal Road requires for it's advanced reviews: Overall, Story, Style, Character, and Grammar. I figured I would crosspost it here as a sort of companion piece to my Flower rec post. If you haven't read Flower, give this a once-over and see if it might interest you. If you have, please consider leaving your own review over on Royal Road to help give the story the glowing reputation it deserves.

This review contains no spoilers.

Overall:

Flower accomplishes what I believe is necessary for all great sci fi to accomplish; it provides a world that feels real and prescient enough for its political and philosophical questions to be meaningful and compelling, without just being a futuristic re-skin of contemporary conflicts. Additionally, it manages for its character-driven storytelling and its complex worldbuilding to compliment and reinforce each other. The character writing feels deeply informed and enriched by the story's political context, and the political context is woven in to the story in this matter rather than running parallel to the murder mystery. It's all inseparable. Additionally, Flower wears its influences on its sleeve without sacrificing any of its unique identity. It skillfully pulls from its sources without being derivative of them, and truly synthesizes the ideas its working with into something new and bold. It is an unflinching work, that categorically refuses settling on any easy answers to its own questions.

Story:

Flower is a mystery story, and it is exacting and thorough about providing a breadcrumb trail for the more theory-minded red string Pepe Silvia types among its reader base. If you, like me, aren't much of a mystery buff and have no interest in solving the mystery yourself, there's still more than enough compelling stuff happening in the story outside of that context that you can enjoy letting Flower take you on its ride. To me, Flower is about getting to watch the complexities of Su and Ran's relationship unfold alongside the political and philosophical complexities of the world they live in. It weaves a compelling yarn about mortality, and what the consequences are of a desire to live without the corresponding means. Its ruminations on death run the gauntlet from brutally cavalier depictions of suicide to existential machinations that attempt to claw all of mankind away from the inevitability of an end.

Flower is slow. This may be a turnoff for some people, but the time it takes is clearly deliberate and does not feel wasted. The parts where I was least engrossed were the parts that were more bogged down in the murder details, but considering this is a murder mystery that sells itself as such, it would be insane of me to criticize it for including genre conventions I'm just not personally fond of. Fork spotted in kitchen, etc. Despite being slow, it is not poorly paced. New revelations about the characters, setting, and underlying mystery are drip-fed to the readership consistently enough that reading feels rewarding. You're not left with the impression that the narrative is detrimentally withholding information in order to artificially encourage continued readership.

Style:

We spend the vast majority of Flower on the receiving end of first-person narration from our protagonist Su. First person can be difficult to pull off, but Lurina nails it here. There's an intimacy and vulnerability to Su's narration as we see all of her worst traits on full display, with the truth of her actions and their motivation trickling in as we begin to peel back the layers of her character. But there's still room for deception, if not dishonesty, in Su's narrative. Very in line with the way Flower questions our ability to ever know another person. It reminds me a lot of how the same subject is explored in Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint which has similarly effective use of first person albeit in a strikingly different context.

This all to say that the style is perfectly fitted to what the narrative is trying to accomplish. Su's narration is suitably pessimistic, deeply prone to navel-gazing, and often judgemental. The biggest stylistic issue I tend to see with first person is when the more descriptive parts stop feeling like a character's own observation and analyses, really jarring you out of their headspace, but every bit of exposition we get throughout the course of the story is so painfully Su. It's a delight to read.

Character:

Oh man is the character stuff here fantastic. Su is Harry DuBois for girls who realized they were lesbians in middle school. No, but seriously Flower is definitely up there alongside Disco Elysium in terms of portrayal of mental illness that have personally resonated with me. On top of Su herself being a peak insane woman in fiction, Ran, Su's best friend by circumstance and right hand man in their personal quest is a fascinating character in her own right. Slowly peeling back the layers of their relationship and beginning to understand what the dynamic between the two actually is has been my favorite part of reading Flower and it's definitely some of my favorite character writing of all time. Flower's supporting cast is an absolute blast as well. Lurina does a great job of writing characters who I almost definitely would not want to hang out with but nonetheless love reading about. The characters don't fall into stale archetypes and instead have enough little details and quirks that make them feel plenty human.

Grammar:

The finicky technical bits of writing rank really low on what I care about in a story unless there's a particularly egregious amount of errors. Flower has some typos and grammatical issues, but with a work of this size that updates regularly and doesn't have the privilege of professional editing services, I think it'd be pretty unrealistic and unfair to expect it to be typo free. None of it has ever impeded my ability to understand or enjoy what's happening in the text, which is really the only standard I hold self-published/ongoing works to in this regard.

TL;DR:

Flower is good and you should read it if you like insane women or when characters take a break in the middle of someone trying to murder them so they can have an impromptu political debate.

#the flower that bloomed nowhere #flower

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cool-cowboy · 3 months

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Summary:

In which an android Leon reveals some features to his model you were not aware of beforehand, then gives you a prime example of how he's better than a human man. I have no idea where this came from, just popped into my head and I figured someone out there would enjoy, so yeah, enjoy!

Tags:

Android Leon S. Kennedy, Obsession, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Master/Servant, alternate universe, Dirty talk, grinding, overstimulation, forced orgasm, babbling, crying

Blurb:

“I just… Didn’t know you had… Those kind of features.”

“Sorry. You’ve never expressed feelings of lust before, only now your heart rate is picking up, perspiration levels above average... Would you like me to enable sexual interaction in the options menu?”

Text:

“Leon, I’m home!” I tuck my shoes into their little spot beside the door, shucking off my jacket and leaving it on its hook, wandering through and into the family room, spotting him, standing perfectly still along the wall, blue neon swirling around his eyes, the only tell I get when an update is underway, other than his lack of response. I decide to leave him be, walking off into the kitchen, getting my things ready to cook supper, the lighting brighter than I like it in the evening, my trusty android friend not awake to employ my usual light and ambience settings, the quiet a little disturbing when I’m so used to the light music he puts on when I arrive home.

I cook in relative silence, making a meal for one, missing the chatter of my robot companion, curious to hear about his update, why it’s taking so long. It’s not traditional, the purpose I have for owning a device like him, usually they’re nothing but a housekeeper, someone to take care of the home and complete menial tasks, but I don’t find that useful, just enjoy having someone around, a friend, something like that. I’ve never assigned him a task, but he craves it, gives himself objectives if I can’t, tries his hardest to cater to my needs even if I don’t speak them.

I sit down with my meal, eating in quiet, seated at my little island, his chair empty, the space a little cooler than I like it. I’m bored, never used to quiet anymore, not with my constant companion making sure to keep conversation flowing, his devotion to me seeming more real than it probably is, his care programmed into him, but there nonetheless. He’s been speaking about feelings lately, if he’s capable, something that would usually get him sent in for a reset, but I don’t mind, and I do think he’s capable, his mind is superhuman after all.

“There you are.” He’s human, on the outside, looks perfectly believable, could walk around with me and have no one suspect he isn’t a normal man, the only difference what’s on the inside, some mechanical shit I have no idea how to explain, and AI that lets him know what I’m thinking, his intelligence unmatched, his mind full of anything I could ever want to know.

“How was the update?” He takes his seat beside me, straight-backed, his formality with his mannerisms something that took me a while to get used to, his speech slowly morphing to mimic mine, a comfort thing programmed into all androids to give a sense of familiarity, comfort with something often viewed as subhuman. His eyes glow blue, ready to rattle off the specs he’s downloaded, his voice a little more robotic than usual, his script taking him over.

“Update 16.2b, major tweaks under the belt, more realistic orgasm simulation, bugs fixed regarding the timed orgasm system, facial expressions refined, new commands available, more realistic erection phases, see more online at Update dot my android dot net.” I sit there, mouth gaping, not sure at all what to say to all that, never even thought about using my friend in that way, was never told I could, if I did want to. “Is something wrong?” I set my fork down, pushing my plate back, my appetite gone, some unwarranted butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

“I just… Didn’t know you had… Those kind of features.” He looks at me, eyes flashing blue, scanning my vitals, something that used to seriously creep me out, but doesn’t bother me much anymore, it’s habitual, a way for him to see how I’m feeling, get truths I’m not willing to give.

“Sorry. You’ve never expressed feelings of lust before, only now your heart rate is picking up, perspiration levels above average.” I don’t say anything, embarrassed he can tell so much about me, know my curious wants against my wishes. “Would you like me to enable sexual interaction in the options menu?” I can’t answer, too busy freaking out in my head, his blue eyes back to normal, still seeking information, always, gaze flitting over my face, small movements of my hands, his inspection leaving me on edge.

“So… You can feel pleasure?” I’m curious, though I’ve never wanted to use him, in any capacity, just wanted someone around, company, not a lover, especially not one who’s not in control of their own actions, autonomy not something he has much of, other than the settings I could turn off to let him have a little free reign, giving him permission to mill about while I’m gone, do as he pleases. He’s staring at me, head cocked, brows furrowed a little, his expression terribly human, inspecting me, trying his hardest to deduce my thoughts, his pointer finger drawing out calculations absently on the countertop as they run through his head.

“Not technically, pleasure is a chemical reaction, my form is just a simulation. I do feel it, the receptors go off when I complete a task. It’s new in update 14.6a, meant to be a better drive to please the owner. I assume you mean sexual pleasure, though. I can simulate it, up until orgasm, mostly realistic, other than the secretion part.” I have no idea why I’m just now hearing about this, most people would probably jump on the opportunity to have a partner so in tune with their body, literally able to do a scan and know what you need.

“Do you enjoy it, though? You want to?” He looks at me, my eyes, not doing any scanning, just looking at me, giving me a few seconds of quiet anticipation.

“You’re important to me, whether it’s programming or not, you’re attractive and a pleasant person, so I'd guess it would be enjoyable to please you in a more personal way, but I know you mean it differently… It’s not a craving I have, to satisfy myself, I mean, only to please you, in any way you see fit.” I swallow, his eyes flitting down, gazing at my hands, fisted and pressed to my thighs. It’s a moral dilemma, using something so intelligent for my own gain, but I suppose it can’t be too terrible, he’d get the equivalent of an orgasm, plus whatever pleased feeling he gets from making me happy. “You seem interested. I will turn on sexual activity permissions in the options menu.” Damn his autonomy, I may have went too far, allowing him access to his own options, his eyes glowing blue as he sinks into his own brain, flipping on whatever part of him has been dormant all this time before returning to me, his expression normal, no different than my usual Leon, casual, doting.

“You did it?” He nods, scanning me, not at all put off by my nervousness, looking at me again, a little more intense than usual, trying to figure me out.

“How was work?” I wonder if I have to initiate it, ask him for it. It would be preferable, though I don’t think I’ll ever use this hidden feature if he doesn’t just jump me, but that doesn’t seem fitting, he’s too soft spoken, reserved.

“Good, I got a new account today, diamonds, the commission is gonna be insane.” He seems pleased, a little whirring sound similar to a hum rumbling in his chest as he stands, moving to take care of my dish, no prompt necessary. I used to feel bad about it, but he really doesn’t mind, lives to care, I guess.

“That’s great. I sent over the files you asked for, they’re under 6.24.5 in the main folder.” I nod, glad he could locate them, my own search not going very well, the information integral to a company I’ve been assigned. He sets the dishes out once he’s done washing, set neatly in their little drying rack, his body moving swiftly back around the counter, his hand ghosting across the back of my shoulders making me flinch, not used to any casual touches between us, the only contact he really ever initiates is caring for any wounds he detects, little cuts, things like that. “You’re aroused, would you like me to-”

“You don’t have to.” My cheeks are flaming, thighs tight together, embarrassment hot on my skin, the light aroused feeling flaring now that he’s brought attention to it. He steps beside me, turning my chair around to face him, slotting himself between my knees, a light touch on my jaw drawing my eyes up, light blue trained on me, his forwardness dizzying, unexpected when I’m so used to his usual self.

“You’re uncomfortable, I can release that tension.” He runs his hand down my neck, smoothing over my shoulder, his touch light, my small shiver prompting him to squeeze a little, the warmth of his skin unexpected, even if I did know it was there, another human feature to make him more real. “You don’t need to worry about if I’d like to. I do, you know I live to please you.” That gets me, his voice lower than usual, a rough, sensual quality to it, his willingness not unexpected, but still shocking. He has a hand on my knee, inching up, almost too slow to notice, his other sliding back up my neck to keep my eyes on him, eye contact something he's always been a fan of, picked it up from conversations and my own mannerisms, is now using it to ruin me, make me nervous.

“I don’t know…” It’s weird, to proposition him in this way, even if it isn’t my idea, allowing it is still on me, my commands headed without any pushback, unless my decision is stupid, then he tells me all the reasons I’m wrong. He hums, sliding his hand back into my hair, his palm a little rough, his eyes peering down at me, a little lower than normal, all of him drawing me in, his actions and words and expression undeniably sexy, which makes sense, considering he has the entire internet and more at his disposal.

“I have to admit, I am curious. It’s my nature, I guess, but I wanna try it, feel the way humans do, engage in something so sought after.” He’s very convincing, convincing enough for me to refrain from stopping him when he starts to lean down, thumb pressing under my jaw to tilt my head up, hand on my lower thigh squeezing. He takes his time, watching my reaction, leaning in slow, his chest heaving with even breaths, his lips parted, close to mine. “Grant me sexual autonomy.” He’s never asked, never expected any of his autonomy settings, other than this one, I guess, not that I mind, I’d prefer he had it, didn’t do anything out of his control, revert into his more robotic self to fulfill my wishes.

“Turn on sexual autonomy in the options menu.” His eyes flash blue, his body going rigid, only for a moment, before he’s back, looking at me, seeming eager, searching my eyes for any sign of disapproval, finding none. He runs his hand further up my leg, eyes cast down to the contact, his lips parted, almost awed.

“Your skin is… Soft. Feels fuzzy, you’re so warm…” His processes are going haywire, I can see it on his face, his mind racing to keep up with what he’s doing, digging through all the information he has to do a good job. “I’ve never felt like this before, this kind of pleasure is different, like it’s for me.” He’s not meant to have feelings, of any kind, but he does, in his own way, lets his mood depend on his helpfulness, even if I’ve urged and convinced him to see himself as his own being, he’s not wired that way.

“It is… I don’t- uh, It’s about you too, okay?” He hums, the low whir in his chest making me smile, one of the few things that reminds me he’s a machine. He moves, tentative, his hand slipping further up my thigh, fingers holding onto my hair, pulling gently when his lips meet mine, plush and smooth, his kiss gentle, unsure, none of the information he has able to tell him the best way to go about this. I move against him, setting a little faster of a pace, letting my hand slide up his stomach, his shaky exhale breathed against my lips.

“Tell me what you like.” He presses his forehead to mine, looking at me, lips and cheeks flushed, his hand hot on my thigh. He can’t take it, not being fully prepared for everything, having to figure things out as they come, his algorithmic brain not able to work through something he has no expertise on. “Don’t just look at me, tell me what you want me to be.” His brows are drawing together, analyzing, trying to figure it out before I even reply.

“What do you wanna be?” He has a personality, one to suit mine, of course, but he never asked for it, developed it, like a child growing up. I don’t want him to play a role, he must have some sort of instinct on how to act, how to be without me commanding him.

“I don’t know.” He’s never not known, he’s a genius, of course, knows everything there is to know, figures out anything he doesn’t. He looks pained, searching my eyes for an answer I can’t give, his hand tracing his equations into my skin. “All I know is I want you… I wanna see you fall apart, make you feel good, be the best lover you could ask for.” I kiss him, bringing my arms up around his neck, drawing him closer between my legs, his pleased hum making me smile, a good reaction from him, real, not asked for, just genuine feeling. His hand slips further up my leg, up to squeeze gently over my hip, feeling me, not looking to please, just letting himself do what he wants, exploring one of the few things he doesn’t know much about, his own form of pleasure. He follows my lead, moving plush lips against mine, the feeling insanely real, the heat of him a little higher than usual, his body heating up in response to my touch, my hands dug into soft locs of hair, pulling gently to separate his lips from mine, his mouth pressing to mine in one last, feverish kiss before he pulls back, eyes wide, wild with untapped pleasure.

“Is this okay?” He nods, swallowing, his lips parting to draw in heavy breaths, his hand sliding up my side, hot over my shirt, his warmth making me both soft and want to squirm.

“Yes, feels good. This is… I never imagined I could feel like this. It’s you, I’m not supposed to feel desire, this isn’t in my programming… Don’t reset me, I’ll be good, swear. I won’t deviate, I just… This is not in the script…” He seems stumped, frustrated at his lack of understanding what’s going on inside him, but I suppose he isn’t meant to have this much freedom, live like a normal person, other than the fact he has no need for a job, and is a machine.

“Leon? It’s okay to feel, okay? You’re not a toaster, yeah?” He laughs, low and rough, shaking his head, some of the robotic tension leeching from him. “Stop thinking so much.” He nods, eyes flashing blue, returning to normal when he blinks it away. “Sorry.” I didn’t mean to command him, but he doesn’t mind, it happens all the time, and he’s happy to oblige, anyways.

“It’s okay… Should we… Continue?” I gulp, and he leans back in, kissing me the way I like, learning quickly, as always, his big hand sliding up my back, fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt before slipping up my spine, my back arching at the gentle touch, his little pleased noise vibrating against my lips. The chair isn’t very comfortable, and my neck is straining from him standing over me, and he knows it, parting his lips from mine and tilting my jaw back down, forcing me to look up at him through my lashes, his expression sinful, eyes low, lips lightly parted, all of him hot, his skin warmer than mine. “You’re uncomfortable.” I nod, not very happy he paused to say that, but glad he cares enough to not leave me in discomfort. “I’ll take you to your room.” He pulls me up out of my chair by my ass, letting my legs drape over his hips, a sizable erection between us, one of his arms holding me up, the other holding my head still as he dips down, kissing at my neck, slow and sweet, his lips spit-slick. He’s walking, letting himself move through the space without looking, letting out a pleased rumble when I exhale a shaky breath.

“Leon, you don’t have to be so gentle…” He groans, the sound low and guttural, his lips pressing a little more feverishly to my skin, his hand squeezing my ass, the other slipping up the back of my shirt, smoothing up my skin, ticklish, making me arch into him, my chest pressed to his, his happy sigh hot on my skin. He leans me back, supporting my weight until I’m laid out on my bed, him on his knees between my legs, scanning, eyes flashing bright before he closes them, ignoring his instinct to run his hands up my thighs, peering down at my face, pushing up on the hem of my shirt, exposing my stomach, his lips coming down to skim up my thigh, one hand on the outside of my knee, holding it still, his lips warm and wet as he trails them up, his eyes on mine, his free hand finding my hip, pressing me into the mattress as he makes his way to my stomach, kissing across the waist of my pants, up toward my belly button, watching me, holding me still with gentle, nonaggressive pressure.

“I need you to tell me… Wanna be good for you… Feels good to make you feel good. I can’t figure it all out, you told me not to think…” He’s a little out of it, not nearly as composed as usual, eyes hazy, movements a little less practiced, but still confident, what information he does have allowing him to not be too unsure of himself. I push him, frowning at his questioning look, forgetting he’s a mostly immovable object.

“Get off.” He pulls back, sitting back on his heels, looking at me with wide eyes, flashing blue, then normal, none of the lust that was there a second ago visible, either put on pause or diminished due to my command.

“Sorry. I’m trying, I just don’t know-”

“Get on your back.” He does, drops down beside me, laid out flat, looking a little silly, considering I’ve never seen him in a bed, he usually sleeps standing, just shuts down for the night, doesn’t need any comfort. I turn over, taking a turn sitting up over him, one knee slotted between his legs, watching him, liking how unsure he looks, something I’ve never seen from him, one thing that separates him from a human. “You still want this?” I feel like I’m coercing him, even if I’m not, his mind far more developed than mine, if anything. I let my fingers trail up his thigh, his jeans rough on my fingers, his faux muscles tensing under my light touch.

“Yes. I’ve never wanted anything, besides this. It’s… Exhilarating, you’re so pretty above me.” My mouth pops open, not at all expecting his compliment, or his hand on my hip, pressing me down over his clothed leg, putting pressure on my clit, the action so forward I nearly gasp.

“Didn’t know dirty talk was part of the programming…” I watch my fingers, pushing up on the bottom of his tee, ghosting my fingers up the skin of his stomach, his abs tight and hot under my touch, his body reacting so intensely, wound up from such a simple touch.

“It’s not. You asked me to be honest.” I did, months ago, when he lied, about nothing important, but still, I see no need for it, at least from him. I nod, wetting my lips and leaning down, pressing them lightly just below his belly button, watching his face, expression back to the hazy, needy one he was giving me a few minutes ago. “Can I..?” He uses his grip on my hip to grind me against his thigh, pushing it up a little further between my legs, offering delicious pressure, the roughness of fabric between us a little shocking.

“Yeah. Do what you want.” He’s sat up on one elbow, watching me, kissing down, skimming my lips along toward his hip, my hand gripped to the waist of his pants, slipping down, fingertips gliding over his erection making him flinch, the low whirring coming back, rumbling through his chest for a few seconds, his hand gently rocking me against him. “Feel good?” He clenches his jaw, looking worried, brows drawn low and together, his eyes barely open, cloudy with lust.

“Yes, too good, I’m overheating, you feel so good, you’re hands are-” He cuts himself off with a choked noise, eyes squeezed closed and his head tipped back, my hand palming him over his pants, offering a little relief in whatever form of pleasure he gets, a strong one, judging by his reaction.

“Sensitive, huh?” He drags my hips a little rougher, eliciting a small, groaned out noise from me, seeming pleased with himself when I open my eyes, his lips pulled up in a little smile, eyes cast down at his leg between my thighs.

“You can turn down sensitivity in the options menu, would you like me to-”

“No. Don’t change anything, stay just like this…” I press my hand more firmly to him, grinding my palm into him, his hips shifting below me making me smile, his breathing a little erratic. His leg is trembling, only the one between my legs, vibrating almost, making me let out a shaky breath. “Wha- Are you-?” He huffs out a laugh, nodding, slamming his head back into the pillow when I grind my hand into him, rough, gripping him through his pants and jerking it, squeezing him, his low groan heavenly.

“Update 12.6a- I have lots of perks. No human can-ah- match up.” He punctuates his words by turning up the vibration, my body slumping, back hunched a little from how harsh it is, before he turns it back down, a little more gentle, other than how roughly hes grinding me against his thigh. “Let me take these off.” He pulls on the waist of my pants, deft fingers moving to unbutton them, undoing the zipper, his free hand coming down to ease them over my hips, his upper body sitting up, and arm around my waist pulling me up enough to get them down my legs, my feet kicking until they tumble to the floor. He takes it in, me sitting in front of him, his hands sliding up my thighs, thumbs teasing under the sides of my panties before continuing up. “You’re gorgeous… I’m so lucky, having a master as good as you.” I clench my thighs around him, gazing up into his eyes, loving the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing on earth, at least the only one that matters. He’s pushing up on my shirt, looking into my eyes as he eases it up, pausing until I lift my arms, giving him permission, letting him pull it up and over my head, his eyes dipping down as he tosses it away, his hands sliding up my sides.

“Don’t you think you should take something off?” He doesn’t reply, just drags my leg up over his hip, straddling me over him, his lips skimming my collar bone, his breathing quick, hands sliding around to drag down my back, resting just above my ass, grinding me into him, his low groan hot on my skin. “C’mon, let me take this off.” I pull on his shirt, and he relents, pulling back and doing it for me, going back to what he was doing, kissing his way down from my collar bone, sucking gently on the skin above my bra, taking my low sigh as my assent, sucking the skin into his mouth and using an arm around my waist to hold me firmly against him, his hand still on my hip working me into his erection, which seems to be getting bigger, slotted nicer against me, giving me intense friction, his jeans rough against my panties.

“Feels so good… You’re so good… Your heart rate is higher than I’ve ever recorded, your body is responding so nicely. Love making you feel good.” He moans, for real, the sound nothing like the whirring hum of his groans, more human, wanton and needy, enjoying himself. “So pretty… Is there anything I can do better?” He’s a little breathless, turning us over and easing me down onto my back, looming over me, one hand rested beside my head, the other gripped to the outside of my thigh, keeping it hooked over his hip. “Is there?” I forgot to respond, too busy staring at him above me, looking so big, strong, his strength never something I thought about before, other than that he was stronger than me.

“Just… Enjoy yourself.” His muscles relax, his expression soft, none of the usual intensity behind his eyes, his elbow bending to bring his lips to mine, his body heating further, not used to all this excitement, his body humming with quiet energy. He’s grinding into me, hips sliding perfectly against me, the drag along my clit drawing a low moan out of me. “Le- Take these off.” I’m pulling at his pants, working the button until he takes over, clumsily shoving his pants down his legs, letting his head tuck down into my neck to free up his other hand, kicking his pants off and onto the floor.

“You take this off.” He sits up on his elbow, nosing and kissing at the side of my throat, pulling on my bra. I laugh, his pleased whirring tickling me, his hand running down my stomach.

“You do it, bossy.” He groans, pressing his hand back behind me, unclipping it much easier than I thought he would, not bothering to sit up to pull it down my arms, his mouth running down from my throat, mouth closing over a nipple, tongue lathing over it, his eyes peering up at me, his eyes low and pleased. He moans, vibrating against me, sucking where his lips are latched to my skin, his hand running up my thigh to press his thumb to my clit, surprising me, his lips pulling from my skin when I flinch, eyes on mine as he kisses his way to the opposite side, rubbing gently up and down over my panties.

“Feels good? I hope so… Let’s get these off.” He sits up, gripping onto the sides of my panties, staring at me as he pulls them down, tossing them off to the side and settling back down over me, nosing my head to the side to mouth at my throat, pressing his lips to my pulse, bringing his thumb back to my clit, rubbing soft circles. “Mmh, there we go, I’ll take good care of you, make you feel so good you’ll never need anyone else. You’re doing so good, looking so perfect and letting me please you…” He kisses his way back up, pressing his lips to mine, wet and open-mouthed, not messy, but needy, rushed, his thumb moving a little quicker against me, giving a little more pressure, my legs starting to shake. “There you go, you’re nearly there, oxytocin levels are skyrocketing, go ahead, want you to finish, let me see how pretty you are when you really feel it.” I moan, squirming against him, my orgasm coming, his face pulling a little further back to look at me, smiling, his expression a mix of lusty and pleased. “C’mon, give it to me, want you to feel good, finish from my fingers-” He doesn’t mind my nails digging into my arms, just works me through it, thumb light on my clit, his eyes on mine, watching me squirm and tilt my head back, the sensation becoming too much, his thumb pulling away the second it does.

“Shit, let me have a turn.” I shove at him, huffing a laugh when he feigns being pushed over, laid out on his back in his underwear, waiting on me to give him direction. I run my hand up his leg, gripping the band of his underwear and pulling down, getting them off and getting rid of them before kissing my way up his thigh, looking at him, the anticipation getting to him, his lips parted, brows pulled down and together.

“I don’t need this.” It would leave a bruise on my ego, if I didn’t know he’s just being honest, not that I care if he needs it, only if he wants it. “I don’t want to waste your time, I don’t require any type of foreplay.” I frown, kissing his base, peering at him over his dick, which is hanging heavy over his stomach.

“Can you get off like this?” I wrap my hand around him, smiling when he flinches, his dick twitching in my hand. I work it over him, keeping it slow, waiting on his reply, his eyes hazy with swirls of blue, systems crashing briefly before he’s back, letting out a light moan, carding a hand through my hair.

“No, I- The orgasm simulation can only progress if I’m inside, and you’re finishing too.” I hum, stroking a little rougher, tilting my head at him when he groans, his hips shifting, the pleasure a little too much, his expression almost fearful.

“It feels good, though?” He nods, head leaning back and eyes closed, letting me do what I want, enjoying himself, just like I asked. “Good.” I wait until he’s opened his eyes back up to lick from base to tip, closing my mouth around him and sinking down, his heady moan mouthwatering, really, drool coating his dick when I pull back up, watching him, his eyes hazy, his hand pulling at my hair when I suck him in again, bobbing up and down.

“Nnh- hey, do you want me to- I can-” He presses his knee up between my legs, rubbing it against me, making me moan around his dick. “There… Perfect…” He sounds pleased, whatever tension was plaguing him loosening now that he sees himself as being of use, rubbing his knee against my clit, offering some relief from the arousal he’s sparked inside with this new, needier self. “Do you wanna finish like this? I understand the usual progression would have me inside by now-”

“Shit, okay. Let’s get to it, then, if you don’t wanna take your time.” I sit up over him, looking at him, shuffling my way up until I’m hovering over his lap, his eyes on me as he sits up, his hands on my waist, his chest heaving.

“You’re ready?” I nod, waiting patiently as he reaches down, eyes hazy, aligning himself and pulling me slowly down onto him by my waist, the stretch less than painful, more than comfortable, not quite as snug as he could be. I’m a little above his face when he bottoms out, eyes swirling with blue for a few seconds before he blinks it away, shaking the heaviness out of his head, looking up at me and coming closer, holding me against him, keeping me seated on his dick as he kisses me, sloppier, messy and needy, my arms wrapped around his neck, his dick twitching and filling me a little fuller, the odd sensation making me pull back to give him a questioning look. “A perfect fit.” He doesn’t seem bothered, so I let the disturbed feeling settle, attempting to pull up off him, but big hands hold me still, keeping himself seated fully inside, melded to the walls, truly a perfect fit. “Let me stay like this, just for a minute… I like this, being impossibly close, feeling you in a way not many people get to…” He goes back to kissing, running his hands down to grip my hips, lifting me slowly up, letting me drop back down over him, his low groan breathed against my lips.

“Can I-”

“Let me do it.” I sigh, relenting, his hands lifting me up and sliding me back down, slow, keeping eye contact, pleased I’m giving him the choice, considering how easy it is to get him to do whatever I want. He keeps the slow pace, staring at my face, seeming pleased, his expression a mix of pleasure and calculativeness, trying to figure out the best way to finish me off, I suppose. “I’ll speed up soon, build-up is important, I don’t wanna deny you what you deserve, wanna be good…” He’s moving too slow, giving enough to fill me up, but not to do much else.

“I already came, Leon, build-up is irrelevant.” He nods, furrowing his brows and speeding up, keeping his grip firm, not letting me bounce, but bouncing me, keeping his eyes on mine, a low moan passing his lips when I clench around him, his pace quickening a little more, slaps of skin to skin sounding in my room adding a layer of intensity, his thumb pressing back to my clit prompting me to let my head lean back, a low, drawn out moan escaping him at the sight.

“You feel so nice inside, so warm, squeezed tight around me… God, this is the best I’ve ever felt, you feel good too, oxytocin is increasing-nnh- how many more times can you finish? Three? I’ll give you three more, wanna see you near tears, all from how good it feels.” He’s feverish, losing his usual stoicness, speaking rushed and breathless, his chest heaving, his hand working me over him, squeezing the fat of my ass, angling his hips further up, the drag along my insides unexpected, making me moan and drop my forehead to his shoulder, sweaty, searing hot on my skin. I’m shaking, letting him work me over him, letting out pleasured noises along with him, his face now tucked into the crook of my neck. “You’re getting worked up quick… I won’t even need the vibration, you’re almost ready, so tight, making such pretty sounds for me…” He holds me up, pausing, leaning back on one hand and dragging my upper body along with him, thrusting up into me, much quicker than he could’ve worked me over him, making me whine into his neck, spit slicking his skin, his hips slamming up into me, hands slipping up to my back to hold me in place so he can fuck into me, his voice getting higher, whinier. “There, now-ah, this is one out of three, so- so you still have two more after this, need you to finish, wet my dick some more, you’re shaking so nice, good thing I’m strong enough to hold you still…” I’ve never heard him curse before, I guess he’s doing his homework on dirty talk mid deed, his background processes doing him well, his words before now not all that enticing with his usual wording.

“Did you-

“Yes, wanted to be good, am I? Shit, tell me I’m good, wanna be good for you, make you feel so good you can’t think. You’re all I think about, you know that? You’re everything to me, I need to please you, make you cum all over my dick a few times before I’m finished.” I moan, shaking embarrassingly violently, nearly there, his dick filling me a little fuller, thrusts a little more needy, rutting up into me, making me whine into his shoulder, orgasm approaching, his nonstop thrusts working me up. “That’s it, gonna make you feel good, please you, have you soaking me, out of it from how good it feels, cumming on me over and fucking over.” My orgasm is shocking, the second I clamp down on him he presses me back down, holding me as I squirm and moan into his neck, grinding into me, stretching it out, pulling out of me once I still, guiding me to lay on my stomach, my body slumping down, ready for rest, until I feel hands pulling up on my hips, lifting me up to rest on my knees, chest and side of my face still pressed to the sheets.

“What are you..?” He presses inside, keeping it slow, aware I’m still coming down from my orgasm, his hands gently rocking me against him.

“This position is good for deep penetration, and I figured your legs were getting tired.” He speaks plainly, like he isn’t on his way to giving me my third orgasm in a couple minutes, his hips speeding up a little once he’s sure I can take it, his hands squeezing on my hips, rough and warm and big. “I’ll know when you’re satisfied, I’ll initiate the orgasm simulation when you’re ready.” He speaks matter of factly, and it would be funny, if he wasn’t fucking me into my mattress, low moans escaping me, my mind swimming, fuzzy and mushy, his hips noisy against me, his upper body folding over me, an arm around my waist pulling me into hars thrusts, his noises muffled into my shoulder blade, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach. “Feels good? Well, I know it-shit- It does. Just- If there’s another-ah- something you prefer…” I let out a noise I hope sounds negative, succumbing to the numb, hazy pleasure, taking what he gives, his noises going higher, near the end of the line, if he could cum without having to initiate it, that is. “So- pretty-! You feel so good, pulling me in, letting me give you all you can-hah- take…” I’m nearly there, my third orgasm coming, the pleasure turning nearly painful, good in an awful, striking way, my legs trembling harshly, his fingers sneaking down to rub at my clit, his moan loud against me when I clench, muscles going tight, so close, my orgasm almost refusing to come. “Come on, quit holding yourself back, you can do it, you’ve had plenty of time. You’ve got it, you’re right there, just squeeze this sweet pussy on me, let me feel it, yeah, there you go, that’s it, fucking whining for it, you sound so damn good…” He fucks me through it, again, keeps his hold around my waist when I try to escape, the sensations too much, my low groan finally getting him to pull out, turning me over and giving me a break by capturing my lips, kissing me feverishly, pressing his knees up under my hips and leaning over me, his dick brushing agoinst me drawing a low whine out of me.

“No more, Leon, no more… I’m finished…” He pulls back, looking me over, eyes flashing blue, his look pensive.

“No you’re not.” He pushes inside, my low groan ignored, his eyes on me, watching me. “You think you can’t- handle more, but you can, can take this one and another, I’ll keep you cumming until you really can’t take it.” He doesn’t thrust, lets me finish coming down, kissing me and keeping a finger against my pulse, waiting for it to slow down before moving, both of us moaning at the drag of him inside.

“Just this one… I don’t want another.” I couldn’t take it, honestly, I’m already entirely fucked out, nearly unresponsive as he rocks inside, grinding up on his way out, my overstimulated nerves making me moan, painful pleasure still somehow enjoyable, even if I am trying to convince him I’ve had enough.

“No, you can take it. I know what you need, know you better than you know yourself.” He does, in a way, knows about my inner workings and psychology and the like, but I know this is killing me, tears in my eyes, his body too big and immovable for me to stop him from taking care of me, forcing me to finish the amount of times he sees fit. “Gonna make sure you’re satisfied, show you how good I am, how good I can be for you…” I’m shaking already, way too worked up, orgasms fading into a hazy pleasure, everything a blanket of hot and muggy sweetness, his lips meeting mine making me moan, his hips working into me, another orgasm well on its way with his relentless actions. “This one then another, okay? You can take it.” I pull him back, looking into his eyes, trying to focus, tears blurring my vision, my eyes half closed from how good it feels, how intense and terrifyingly good this is.

“Leon, begin-shit- begin orgasm simulation-!” He groans, head tucking down to my neck, his hips working more purposefully, all of him hot against me, a thumb working at my clit making me jerk, squirming away, but he keeps me still, working us both up, his noisiness gaining volume, making me almost worried the neighbors will hear.

“That’s- I wasn’t done, sneaky-ah- girl. Fuck, feels so good, love making you feel good, being good for my-nnh- Master-!” I moan, usually adverse to the title, but my hazy brain loves it, too full of him to really mind, letting him send me toward my final orgasm, if only to chase his, though that’s not the case, considering I have to get off for him to. “Shit, please, can’t-ah- Take anymore-! I’m fuckin’ overloading, you feel too good, squeezing me so tight, hot and wet and-Nnh-! Please, give it to me, let me please you one more time, it hurts, need you to cum, trap me inside and-” He whines, burying his face in my neck and fucking me through it, twitching inside the second I squeeze around him, his whiny moan drawing a pleased noise out of me as he slows, pulling out after a few more seconds, not moving to force anymore out of me, just kissing lightly up the side of my neck, easing himself up onto a hand to look at me, eyes flashing blue.

“Are you scanning for your performance right now?” He smiles, almost coy, pressing his hand to my skin, taking my vitals, not even trying to be subtle.

“Course. I meant it when I said I live to please.”

#re smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #robots #smut

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jedijesi · 6 months

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Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 8

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: SMUTTY, Fluff, she/her pronouns

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Miguel and Felicia become busy with mission and trying to keep their affair a secret.

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

Life had undeniably gotten busy for Miguel as he, LYLA, and Jessica investigated the Vault break-in. This meant he had only been able to see Felicia a few times in passing. Days were long and nights were restless for Miguel. He missed exploring Felicia's body with his lips and hands, missed the way she teased him, the way she'd get so passionate when upset.

Felicia also couldn't help but miss bickering with Miguel until his eyes turned that sexy shade of red or watching him strut around the Spider Society with such intensity. A month ago, Felicia would have been over the moon to find out she didn't have to see Miguel for a whole 12 days, but now, she dreads it. The only good thing to come out of this was that Felicia was finally able to go back home now that she had her new suit and watch.

New York, Earth-192

The window creaked as Felicia opened it, gracefully slipping inside. Once she found herself in the comforting embrace of her bedroom, she casually tossed her mask onto the bed. A quick touch to the spider emblem on her chest initiated the process of removing her sleek black suit. Now in her underwear, she sauntered over to the kitchen, hunger gnawing at her after the mission's exertion.

Felicia yanked open the refrigerator door, her curious eyes scanning the contents. The fridge held nothing more than a motley collection of condiments and a carton of oat milk that might have seen better days.

She leaned against the cool kitchen counter, a sigh escaping her lips. Eventually, she decided it was time to return to Nueva York after her week-long absence. Swiftly, she changed into her lacy black underwear, harboring a glimmer of hope that she might get lucky with Miguel.

Nueva York, Earth-928

"Felicia!" Margo and Julia cheer at their table in the cafeteria, waving her over. "Come here! It's been forever!"

"Hey," Felicia said with a sheepish smile as she slid into the seat next to Julia. "Sorry, I haven't been around recently." She casually reached over and swiped a forkful of side salad from Julia's tray, earning an amused scolding from her friend.

"Did Miguel scare you out of Nueva York too?" Margo says with a giggle.

"Something like that..." Felicia mumbles as she shoves in a bite.

Margo raises an eyebrow curiously, sensing that there might be more to Felicia's story. "Oh? Do tell! Did you two get into a nasty fight again?" she prompts, genuinely interested in their drama.

"A lady never tells," she says with a smirk. "Imma head out, I'll catch you two later," Felicia says as she slips out of the booth seat.

As Felicia wandered the halls of the penthouse wing, a hand suddenly reached out to grab her arm. Startled, she swiftly turned back, only to be met with the sight of none other than Peter Parker. Without hesitation, she yanked her arm out of his grasp and, with her free hand, delivered a swift punch to his jaw.

"Ouch! Fuck! Again?" He curses as he cradles his throbbing jaw.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Heat enveloped her body as anger coursed through her.

"I work here, remember?" Peter snaps. "I'm the one who got you in here, don't forget that!"

"What do you want, Peter?" She spits out.

"You've been ignoring my calls."

Felicia scoffs in his face, "I blocked you months ago."

"Yeah, but that never stopped you before." He shrugs. "You stopped meeting at our spot."

"I told you, it's over! No more booty calls, no more late-night chats, nothing! I don't want anything to do with you," Felicia declared as she turned around, her voice firm and resolute. She was about to storm off when Peter couldn't hold back any longer.

"Oh, I see how it is!" Peter's tone was laced with a seething anger, his words simmering with resentment. "You used me to infiltrate the Spider Society!"

Typically, Felicia would dismiss such a claim, but this time it struck a nerve with her, causing her to come to an abrupt halt. "Excuse me?"

She gives Peter the opportunity to backtrack, instead, he puffs his chest to speak wholeheartedly. "You used me like the manipulative bitch you are!"

"You, have no fucking right to accuse me! You wanted me to join all this in the first place. You're the one that wanted me to change! Don't you think for one god damned second that I used you just to 'infiltrate' the Spider Society! I have finally found people here who actually like me for who I am and my skills. I'm not just a late-night fuck to make themselves feel like a better man. So you can just crawl back into your pathetic little hole, that you like to call your girlfriend, and drop dead!" She stormed off, leaving Peter to stand alone, his face scoffed in anger, and his eyes full of rage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Felicia approaches the door of Miguel's penthouse, she skillfully employs the EMPs embedded in her claws to disrupt the door's security, causing it to hiss open effortlessly for her. Inside, she heads directly to Miguel's well-stocked pantry and fridge, rummaging for a quick snack to appease her growling stomach.

After satisfying her hunger, Felicia decides it's time to wash the day's grime away. She heads to the bathroom, turning on the water for a long, hot shower. The soothing cascades of water wash away the sweat and dirt, leaving her feeling refreshed, revitalized, and smelling like Miguel.

Dressed in nothing but a towel wrapped around her, Felicia proceeds to rummage through Miguel's closet for a suitable change of clothing and to be her nosey self. She selects an old sweater, paired with her lacy black underwear, before doing a twirl in the mirror.

Meanwhile, Miguel made his way back to the penthouse, completely exhausted from today's work. He felt like every Spider-Person known to man had needed him for something today, on top of all the paperwork, supervising, and three different missions that he was needed for today. The man was purely exhausted. The door to the penthouse slid open, and Miguel made his way to his couch. He let his body drop onto the couch, running his fingers through his hair and over his face in pure exhaustion.

"Hey there, stranger," Felicia emerged from his room, slowly sauntering down the stairs toward Miguel on the couch. Miguel looked over at the sound of her voice and watched as she made her way over to him, now standing directly in front of him. It took him little time to notice that all she wore was nothing but an older shirt of his, practically cascading down her body like an oversized dress. The tip of her hip barely showed above the pair of black lacy underwear she was wearing. Miguel sat back to fully take in the view.

"Do I even want to know how you managed to get into my apartment?" he asked with a knowing smile. She pretended to ponder her answer for a moment, looking up as if the answer were written across the ceiling. She looked back down at him, a wide smile spreading across her face, as she shook her head 'no'.

Felicia took notice of how tired he actually looked and decided to take a seat by straddling Miguel's lap. Her fingers started to rub smoothing scratches along his scalp, sending his head lolling back onto the couch.

"What's troubling my Spider today?" The possessive nickname causes Miguel's cock to jump with excitement.

"Just a... long day today." He frowns.

Felicia nods in understanding before her famous crocodile smile makes its way across her lips. "If there was only some kind of way to help my Big Spider feel better, I would do it in a heartbeat... that is if he asked nicely." She teases, grinding onto his lap just enough to make his hands grip tightly onto her waist.

Miguel leans up from the couch, arms now fully wrapped around her body, and says nothing, but sweetly and desperately kisses her. Felicia smiles from the sweet sentiment, before sliding herself off his waist, grabbing his hands in an assist to pull him off the couch. He follows her movements, gradually standing up and following her as she walks him back into the bedroom, his eyes never once leaving her eyes as they walk. She enters the room first, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the bed as she looks up at him seductively. He lets go of their hands and instead places them onto the edges of her shirt, slowly lifting the material, and exposing her breasts. His warm palm presses against them softly, as his thumb rubs soft circles against the feel of her soft skin.

Felicia sighs longingly at the feeling of his hand touching her body, before suddenly climbing backwards onto his bed. She leans back laying her head on the plush pillows, her legs spread out in order to make room for the large man to enter, or rather her large man.

Miguel follows her lead, placing a knee right in between her thighs, slowly placing his elbows on either side of her head. He leans down to her, his lips only inches away from touching hers. He softly kisses her on the tip of her nose, before finally connecting his lips to hers in a long-awaited kiss.

"You look so perfect under me, Hermosa." Miguel groans as he leans down for another kiss.

Felicia slowly brings her hands up from the bed, making her way over his suit as he slowly kisses her more and more with each passing second. She starts at his hips tracing up to his belly button, before placing a flat palm against his stomach, reveling in the feel of his abs with how they stretch and move with each breath he takes.

Miguel's cock twitches at the feeling of Felicia's fingers wandering his body. The slow, sensual kissing, quickly heats up at a faster pace. Felicia can't seem to get enough of him, and Miguel can't seem to get enough of her. She starts to feel the all too familiar heat between her legs, now needing more of the friction he was giving her before. She starts to slowly grind herself onto his knee, still resting in between her legs, her toes curling in anticipation and want, even more with need.

"You're so wet for me, baby." Miguel moans into her lips.

Miguel pulls away suddenly, causing the woman beneath him to let out a groan of protest. She quickly stops as she watches his suit retract, revealing his chiseled body. Quickly Miguel returns to Felicia's lips, only for a short few kisses before reaching down to pull her shirt above her head as well. Their bodies are both hot to the touch the more they grind on one another, their kissing turns more feverish as they can now touch and feel each other's heated skin.

Miguels suddenly moves his kisses down her body. He kisses her chin, making his way down to her neck softly sucking onto the skin there. He smiles into it when he feels Felicia start to stretch her neck for him for better access. He leaves her neck, moving down to hover over the black lacy bra she wears, pushing her breasts together as if perfectly made for his eyes only. He kisses the tops of each of her breasts, then traces his lips along her stomach in feathery light kisses, before finally reaching his destination of the matching cotton panties she wore. He kisses his way around her panties and travels along the inside of her thighs with his lips. Felicia now sits up slightly in anticipation, her breaths shallow, Miguel taking pride in how her breasts move up and down with each impatient breath she takes.

"I need you." Miguel moans as he tosses her panties across the room, and returns to grind his cock into her pussy. "Fuck." He pants, throwing Felicia's bra across the room.

"Miguel, I need it," Felicia whines, the feeling of his lips on her neck, making her even more wet.

Felicia gasps, causing Miguel to turn around, finding LYLA floating next to them. He panics, throwing the duvet over their naked bodies. "LYLA!" He growls. "What are you doing!"

LYLA stands there unfazed. "Is this sex?"

"It was about to be." Felicia rolls her eyes playfully.

Meanwhile, Miguel doesn't take the interruption as well as Felicia. "LYLA it better be an emergency or I'm powering you down!"

"Not an emergency, per se, Margo Kess and a few other spider-people in the lab had a bit of a malfunction when testing some Vault security systems. I handled the disaster!" LYLA quickly added, knowing grumpy Miguel wouldn't take it well. "They'd like your input and it could help with the investigation."

Miguel groans before commanding his suit to pixilate over his naked form. "I'm sorry, Felicia, rain check?"

"Of course." She says with a seductive wink, watching Miguel stand from the bed.

"So... are you two... together?" A grin begins to appear on LYLA's face.

Felicia looks to Miguel to respond. "Taking it slow." The blue and red mask looks to Felicia for reassurance. "So... Yes. We are. Just keep it under wraps or I will delete your code." He threatens.

LYLA chuckles to herself, knowing full well how big of a hypocrite Miguel is. "Yeah, Yeah, it's a secret. I won't lecture you on why this is wrong."

Miguel heads for the bedroom door to leave before stopping and running back to Felicia. His mask disappears as he pulls Felicia in for one last passionate kiss. "I'll be back to finish what we started, gatita." He whispers against her lips.

Holding the duvet up to her chest to help keep some modesty, Felicia smiles softly as she watches Miguel rush out of the bedroom, engaged in a heated exchange with LYLA.

"Have you two had sex before? Wait- do you do it a lot? Oh my god- How long have you two been having sex for?" Felicia chucks as LYLA interrogates Miguel through the penthouse.

"ENOUGH LYLA!"

Chapter 9

A/N: LMK what u think! I love reading your comments they make my day!

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099

#jedi jesi #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #stclairesplace #miguel ohara x female reader #miguel x reader #felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy reader #spider-man x black cat #spider man x reader #spider man x felicia hardy #peter parker x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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levelsevenlaserlotus · 1 year

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Unsettle Me

This contains adult content, minors dni 18+

AN: Trying something new here so please be kind ❤️ Might expand on this depending on whether or not you guys would be interested.

Pairings: Dark!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language, Stalking, Non Consensual Sex, Somnophilia, Violence, Obsessive Behavior and just general creepiness.

Summary: Someone’s been in your apartment, you know this because when you come home from work, dinners waiting for you.

Words: 881

Masterlist Part 2

You’re still shivering and dripping water as you walk up the three flights of stairs to your shitty New York City apartment. You had just gotten back from a five-hour shift on top of your full load of college courses. The only thing you wanted to do was collapse into bed and not wake up for at least a week, but you still had to finish your essay on the Cold War.

You’re yawning as you shove the key into the keyhole in the door, and step inside, but the sight on your kitchen countertop has you alert at once. A piping hot plate of food sits at the ready. You shuffle closer to take in the food in front of you.

Rosemary and lemon chicken breast, grilled asparagus and crispy potatoes, and a bottle of red wine with a glass already poured for you. The food is hot, you can see the steam coming off the plate as if someone had cooked it minutes ago.

You stop, your heart beating wildly as you work over what this means. You didn’t see anyone coming down the stairs as you went up…was someone in your apartment now?

Your eyes flick around your studio apartment, looking for any potential hiding spots, the closet opposite your bed was open, the space too small for anyone to hide in any way. Your eyes fall to the floor, peering into the darkness under your bed, your hand reaching into your coat pocket to get a grip on your keys. Your hands are sweating and you fumble to get the keys into the spaces between your fingers the way you were taught.

You crouch down slowly as I’d you were approaching a wild animal which you very well could be and pull your phone out in your free hand, the light of the screen illuminating the dark space. Nothing but plastic storage containers with your winter clothing.

You sigh in relief but the tension in your body doesn't leave, someone was in your apartment recently too. You swallow hard, considering your options, you suppose you could call the police but what good would that do? You had no evidence other than the food on your kitchen counter, if anything they would think you were some stupid college kids trying to pull a prank.

You turn and study the door to your apartment, there was no physical indication that anyone had forced their way into your home. Whoever it was must have their key, a chill goes up your spine at the thought.

You end up dragging the small bookcase across the length of your apartment to barricade the front door. Having something physical in between you and any possible intruder made you breathe a little easier.

Turning back to your supposed dinner you take a closer look, picking up the knife and fork already set out and cutting into the chicken breast. The skin was brown and crispy, the inside juicy and cooked perfectly. Your mouth waters at the sight.

You take a closer look at the bottle of wine, the label was in French but you recognized the name from a few upscale restaurants. Expensive, four figures expensive and only sold by the bottle.

Grimacing at the sight before you and all it indicates you carry the plate over and scrape the food into the trash without a second thought. You turn and take the bottle of wine and the glass too, as you go to pour it down the drain the sight of dirty dishes in the sink stops you.

A small frying pan, already soaking, a few miscellaneous bowls and utensils wet and soapy, almost as if someone was in the middle of doing dishes before they were interrupted.

You don't notice your shaking until you hear the smash of the plate you were holding shatter against the hardwood floors. It takes another moment to realize your beading slightly, the red liquid oozing out of your finger fascinates you before it alarms you.

Stepping over the broken ceramic you fetch a tissue to tamper the blood dripping down the side of your thumb. Your body’s slower, less fluid as you sweep up the shattered remains of the plate, your eyes unable to leave the view of the front door.

You shower with the bathroom door ajar and the curtain open, the busted shower heads getting water all over the floor but you are too paranoid to care. You’ll clean it up later. You’re skin itchy as you scrub yourself with a loofah and rub lotion into your skin.

You’re no longer shaking as you clumsily prepare for bed, pulling an oversized t-shirt over your head and slipping on a cotton thong. You curl up on your side, your eyes trained on the door 20 feet away. You slip in and out of sleep, snapping awake before exhaustion pulls you back under.

Just two miles north of you, Natasha watches you through her computer screen, her face impassive as she watches you sleep. Annoyance flares up in her when she remembers you didn’t eat the dinner she made for you or anything else for that matter. She sighed, you barely took care of yourself but it was okay, that’s why she was there.

#natasha romanoff x reader #wlw #mcu #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dark!#dark!natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha Romanoff #stalker!natasha #levelsevenlaserlotus #dark!nat #unsettle me

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just-wrting · 11 months

Text

The Babysitter (Part 1)

Title: The Babysitter (Part 1)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After the family you babysit for moves, you meet with a father and son duo who are about to change your life.

Word Count: 1438

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: This took forever mainly because work has been kicking my ass with all these 9-hour shifts that switch from mid-morning one day to close the next. Part 2 will be up in a few days though I promise!!!!

You can hear your phone ringing in the next room. It’s probably not anything, but since you had spread the word that you need a new babysitting gig, you rushed to get it. Nothing said perfect timing like that call.

“Hi, this is (Y/N) (L/N). What’s this call about?”

You tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder as you scoop up the youngest of the kids into your arms.

“Hello, this is Aaron Hotchner. Someone told me I could call you about babysitting. Is now a good time?”

“Yes! Now works, though pardon the screaming in the background. The parents are running a little late but are almost here.”

In fact you could see their car just a few houses down the street. Granted, taking the call made you feel a bit guilty, but the parents had assured you that if you had someone call about your offer you could take the call.

“I can call back later if that works better.”

You pulled the plastic fork out of one of the boys’ hands and mouth ‘don’t you dare’. You can respect the sibling urge to annoy the younger siblings, but you can’t let him chase his siblings with forks.

“Actually the parents are pulling into the driveway. If you want, I know a place we could meet. It’ll give me a chance to introduce myself to your kid or kids. Does this number work to text you the address?”

You wipe the youngests face off, freeing their smile from pizza sauce. A car door closes and a chorus of ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ ring from around the kitchen.

“Only if it’s alright with you. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“No, it's fine. There wasn’t enough food for me to eat anything so it’s a good time for me to have dinner.”

You hand the youngest off to the open arms of their dad. You hear the flurry of kisses that makes the toddler laugh. It’s adorable to see how much the family cared for each other.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds like a plan. I hope to see you in about twenty minutes.”

—

“I’m so lucky you guys had mac and cheese left. This usually sells fast.”

You flash a smile at your friend. This was definitely your favorite spot. Practically everything they sold was homemade, from the mac and cheese right down to the cupcakes. It was all made with love, and perhaps tiredness. Not to mention, as a regular you got to try the new stuff early. That includes the napkin of cookies that they gave you after they took your order.

“Just for you, my loyal customer. Besides dinner, why are you here? Got a hot date or something?” she gives you a cheeky grin.

You wipe your mouth and shake your head. “Nope. Meeting a potential gig here. Figured since I needed to eat here works.”

At that moment, the bell above the door rings. In steps a man, smartly dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a maroon polo, with his son in tow. The man locks eyes with you right away before quickly scanning the whole cafe. His son was eagerly looking at your stack of cookies.

“I’m Aaron Hotchner. I was looking for a (Y/N) (L/N)?”

You stand up. “Right here. I’ve already had dinner but if you two would like something feel free to order it. I’ll pay for it.”

The son is quick to make a dash to your table once his dad strides toward you. He puts his little hands on the table and looks up at you with big eyes. You can see the lights reflected in them and you know that if you get the gig those eyes will be the death of you.

“Can I have one of those cookies, please? There aren’t any of them in the case.”

Aaron puts his hand on his son’s shoulder and steers him toward the counter. “It’s not nice to ask for other people’s things, Jack.”

You hide a smile behind your hand. Sure you shouldn’t want to give him a cookie, but he asked nicely and is just too cute. As much as you want to spend time fawning over the fact that not only is the kid adorable, he’s got good manners, you try to focus on Aaron.

Given the fact that he didn’t mention or bring a wife with him, you figure that she isn’t in her son’s life anymore. You make a mental note to ask about it in private. That sort of topic is sensitive for kids, so you don’t plan on broaching it in front of Jack.

“I don’t mind letting him have one of my cookies. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all four of them by myself anyway.”

Aaron gives Jack a gentle nudge your way. It takes him just a few steps to run to your table. He climbs up on a chair and sets his hands in his lap. He never looks directly at you, only at the table and the stack of cookies.

“It’s fine if you have one. Your name is Jack, right?”

Jack nods his head and reaches out for the cookies. He held it in his hand and took a tentative bite out of it. Crumbs fell to the table and you slide a spare napkin across to him.

“I’m sorry if I had called at a bad time, I didn’t realize you would be busy.”

Aaron sets down a cup in front of Jack. There’s whipped cream poking out of the top signaling it’s a hot chocolate. Jack seems eager to keep the sweets coming as he starts to drink.

“It’s not a big deal. If everytime someone called was a good time, it would probably be a bad sign.” You took a sip of your coffee. “Actually you had great timing. Today was my last day with the Smiths.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been babysitting?”

Jack eyes the cookies as he polished off the one he had grabbed. You slide them a little closer to the boy and give him a nod. He looks up at his dad for his confirmation.

“Since high school. I was already watching my younger siblings and figured what’s a few more. I even scheduled college around one of the families. Most of the families I’ve worked with work long or random hours.”

“That’s good to hear. I tend to have to go out of state for my job.”

As you sit and discuss things like pay and qualifications, Jack falls asleep on his dad. You can hear the soft little puffs of air as he dreams, and you realize it’s gotten later than you anticipated. The cafe is supposed to close in ten minutes and you feel the exhaustion hit you like a truck.

“If it’s okay, I can start tomorrow. I’d be more than happy to take care of Jack.”

Aaron runs his fingers through the boy’s hair and lets out a sigh. You know he’s thinking hard about what he should do. The conversation shows how much he loves his son. It’s heartwarming to see and you want to take a picture of them.

“That sounds good. I’ll text you the address later, but I think it’s time to go now.”

You chuckle. “Yeah he’s out for the night. I’m surprised he fell asleep so quickly even with the sugar.”

Aaron gently picks Jack up. “It’s been a long day.”

You follow him to the door. He does his best to walk in a way that doesn’t disturb Jack, and you find yourself admiring him. Being a single parent can be hard, and Aaron seems to handle it with grace.

“I’ve got it. I can get the car door for you too.”

Thankfully, the car was right in front of the cafe. There’s a booster seat in the back seat, and you can see a variety of kids' toys littering the floor. It doesn't take long for Aaron to buckle Jack in. The kid doesn’t even stir.

“Thank you for being able to meet me here. I know it’s not a very convenient place, but I’m so grateful,” you say.

Aaron gives you a soft smile. “Thank you for being able to start tomorrow. Jack seems to like you so I think you’ll be a good fit.”

“Well then I’ll be at your place at 6 am sharp. Have a good night, Aaron.”

“Get home safe, (Y/N). I’ll see you in the morning

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotch

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q-gorgeous · 15 days

Text

Perfect Bill of Health

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 2671

Danny's forced trip to the doctor reveals he has several unexplained and suspicious unhealed or badly healed injuries

more phic for phic phight

He was sore. Even just laying in bed hurt. He didn’t know how long it would last for like this. But his alarm was going off and he needed to get ready for school.

He lifted his arm up and pressed the button to turn his alarm off. He laid his arm across his face and groaned. Time to get up.

Danny rolled onto his side and shakily pushed himself up. Once up, he sat on his bed for a few moments out of breath. It took too long to pass and he sighed. A knock sounded at the door and he jumped.

“Danny, sweetie, are you waking up?” His mom called.

The sound of a saw. A bright light above him. His missing kidney being passed from one person to the other.

He shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, Mom! I’m awake!” He said shakily.

“Okay. Make sure to get some breakfast on the way out. I made eggs and bacon with waffles today.”

“Okay, I’ll eat some.” He called back. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach it.

He listened to the sound of her walking away from the door and waited until he couldn’t hear her steps anymore.

Time to start the day.

He slowly stood up and grabbed a change of clothes and headed across the hallway to the bathroom. He started up the water and waited for it to get warm while he brushed his teeth. He turned the water off and stared into the mirror for a few moments as the water ran in the shower behind him.

He started peeling off his hoodie, trying to avoid looking at the scar on his chest that trailed up over his collarbones. He turned around and dropped the hoodie on the floor and finished undressing before he stepped into the shower.

Once he was done, he got dressed and pulled on a new hoodie. Dropping his old clothes off in his room, he grabbed his backpack and headed downstairs.

His mom turned and looked up at him when he entered the kitchen.

“Danny, it’s awfully warm today. Are you sure you want to wear a hoodie?” Maddie asked as she set a plate down in front of him.

“It’s colder inside the school.” Danny poked at the food on his plate. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure-”

“Danny-boy!” Jack walked into the living and slapped a hand on Danny’s back. “Be sure to save some waffles for the rest of us!”

“Jack!” Maddie shooed him to his own seat as Danny gasped for the air that was knocked out of him. “You know Danny’s been sore and out of breath lately.”

Jack knocked himself in the head. “Drat! That’s right. Sorry, Danny.”

“Speaking of that.” Maddie took her spot next to Jack. “You have a doctor’s appointment after school today, Danny.”

Danny spit out the small bite of eggs he finally put in his mouth. “A doctor’s appointment?”

Maddie nodded. “You’re overdue for a regular checkup and with all these other concerning symptoms you’ve been having, I think it’s time you go in for one.”

“But after school I-”

“Nope.” Maddie shook her head. “You have no extracurriculars and whatever you might have planned with Sam and Tucker can wait until after you go to your doctor’s appointment.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’ll be picking you up after school today and we’ll be heading straight there.”

Danny slumped forward in his seat and twirled his fork around on his plate.

Maddie sighed. “Look, I know going to the doctor can be scary. Especially when something is wrong but you don’t know what. Going to the doctor when symptoms first appear instead of waiting will prevent any issues from getting worse.”

Danny nodded. “I understand.”

They finished eating the rest of their breakfast. Danny still had a bit on his plate, but he pushed it away from him and stood up.

“Have a good day at school, Danny.” Maddie came around the table and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Danny tried not to cringe and stooped down to pick up his backpack and head to school.

~~~~~~~~~~

Danny stared at where his mom’s car was parked in the parking lot.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

He turned to look at Sam and Tucker as they walked up to him.

“Yeah, Sam. I think I’ll be okay. It’ll just be a regular check up, right? What can they all do at one of those?”

“Just give us a call when you’re done.” Sam said.

“Or if you need us to break you out of there.” Tucker gently nudged him. “We’ll bust down every door to get you out.”

Danny chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Tuck. But I will let you guys know how it went afterwards.”

He walked away from them and made his way to his mom’s car.

He pulled the door open and threw his bag onto the floor and jumped into the passenger seat.

“Hi, Danny!” His mom smiled at him as he shut the door and put his seatbelt on. “How was school?”

He shrugged as she pulled out of the parking lot. “It was fine. It was school. Didn’t do much of anything interesting today.”

“Aw. That’s too bad.” Maddie said.

They drove his silence until they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.

“The hospital?” Danny asked. “Why didn’t we go to our usual doctor’s office?”

“Because here they can perform any kind of tests they might deem necessary. If they don’t think you need anything else done, they will. If they don’t they’ll just do the regular check up and then send us home.”

She turned the car off and got out. Danny sat there for a few moments staring at the building before he finally opened his door and stood up. He followed his mom across the parking lot and into the building. Right inside the entrance was a reception desk and his mom walked up to an empty booth and smiled at the receptionist.

“Hi! We’re here for an appointment for Danny Fenton?”

The receptionist shuffled around a couple papers and clipped them into a clipboard with a pen.

“You can take a seat and fill out these forms while you wait for the nurse. They’ll be out shortly.”

They walked over to the waiting area and took a seat in two chairs.

They went through the checklist and filled out every symptom Danny could remember having in the last six months and his family’s medical history. They were at the bottom of the sheet when a nurse walked through the door leading to the examination rooms.

“Danny Fenton?”

Maddie stood up and Danny’s heart rate spiked.

“Haha, you don’t have to come with me, mom. I’m old enough to go to my own doctor’s appointments on my own now.”

Maddie frowned at him. “Are you sure? I can come in and advocate for you. Make sure they’re taking you seriously.”

“No no, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

He stood up with the clipboard and walked over to the nurse.

“I’m Danny.”

“Hi, Danny.” The nurse smiled at him. “If you follow me, we’ll start by taking your height and weight. Once we get to the examination room we’ll go through checking your vitals.”

They walked up to a scale and Danny took off his shoes.

“120 pounds.” The nurse said.

She unfolded the height thing and pulled it down to the top of his head.

“Five foot five. Follow me.”

He followed behind her down the hallway. He studied the walls as they walked by another desk. She stopped and opened a door to their right.

“In here. You can take a seat on the bed over there.”

He sat down and took another look around the room. It looked like any other normal doctor’s room he’s been in before.

“We’re going to start with your temperature.”

She stuck a thermometer in his ear and took it out when it beeped. She frowned at it. “Ninety four degrees.”

She stuck another thing in his ear and moved to his other side. When she was done, she grabbed the blood pressure device. He held up his arm and she wrapped it around it and started pumping it. It squeezed Danny’s arm as she studied the measurement. She pulled it off.

“Blood pressure is low.”

A knock sounded at the door and a doctor walked in.

“Hi, Susan. I can take it from here.” She said.

Susan walked out of the room and the doctor sat down in the swivel chair next to the bed.

“I’m Dr. Burnell. Your mom said you came in with concerns about shortness of breath today?”

“You talked to my mom?” He asked.

She nodded. “I just went to ask her a few questions and to get permission to run tests.”

“Don’t you need my permission too?” Danny frowned at her.

“Unfortunately, your mom has the legal say on any medical treatment you go through. But any tests we run are for your benefit so we can get to the root of the issue. But before we get to any of that, I’m going to ask you to take a couple deep breaths while I listen through the stethoscope.”

“Okay…”

She stood up and walked over to him. She placed the stethoscope on his back and listened as he took a deep breath. She frowned.

“Can you take another breath?”

He did as she asked and she stepped away.

“Have you had any injuries lately? Been hurt in any sports at school?”

His bones cracking as his chest was ripped open. The pain as it radiated outward. Voices talking around him.

“No.” He said shakily. “No injuries. I don’t play any sports at school.”

Her frown deepened. “I’d like to do an x-ray of your chest. It sounds like you may have a couple broken ribs. That could explain your soreness but not your shortness of breath. For that I’d like to do an MRI.”

“Broken ribs?” Danny asked. He would have thought those would have healed by now.

Dr. Burnell nodded. “When a patient has broken ribs, you can hear them rattling through the stethoscope. There’s not much we can do for those besides prescribe bed rest and pain meds while you’re healing.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“If you come with me, we can get started.”

~~~~~~~~~

Danny was led back to his examination room once the tests were over. They were much more painless than he was expecting, but he still didn’t know what his body would look like in them. If his ghostly qualities would appear in them.

He’d been sitting in this room for quite a while now and he wasn’t sure when the doctor would be coming back.

A knock finally sounded at the door and Danny jumped in his seat. “Come in.” He called.

Dr. Burnell walked in, staring at some sheets in her hands. She looked frazzled and concerned.

“We have your scans back Danny, but we haven’t gone to talk to your mom yet. We wanted to check in with you first.”

Danny frowned at her. What could they have found that she’d be this concerned about? Especially if they still haven’t gone to get his mom to tell them the news together?

“You do indeed have a couple broken ribs. When we did the MRI we did find out that the broken ribs are pushing against your lungs causing your shortness of breath.”

Danny nodded. Was that all they were concerned about?

“But we found something else.”

She handed him his x-ray. His heart dropped into his stomach at the color he saw in the scan that he knew wasn’t supposed to be there.

A green orb sat in the center of his chest.

“And your MRI.”

She handed him another scan and this one had specks of green littered throughout his body.

The doctor stared at Danny.

“What did your parents do to you?”

Danny pulled back suddenly. “What do you mean what did my parents do to me?“ he asked shakily.

“We have no other evidence of this type of ecto-contamination in any other patients in Amity Park.” Dr. Burnell said. “We see cases of child abuse often in the hospital. It’s something we have to ask.”

“My parents would never hurt me.” Danny said shakily as he stood up from his seat.

“We’ve already contacted CPS. They’re going to come and ask you and your mom some questions.”

Danny started hyperventilating. They were going to tell his mom about his injuries and ecto-contamination. They were going to tell her about his core. How would he explain this away? If he was just ecto-contaminated he could get away with that, but not having a core.

“I- I have to go.” Danny turned towards the door and tripped over his own feet. He hit the ground hard and his chest exploded in pain and stars burst in his eyes.

“Danny!” Dr. Burnell shouted. He could hear her running over and kneeling on the ground beside him. She turned him to his back. Then there was a light shining in his eyes.

White light. The pain. His parents.

“Get away from me!” Danny shouted.

His ghostly wail must’ve pushed its way into his shout through his anxiety because the windows on the wall opposite from them shattered. Dr. Burnell covered her face and Danny pulled himself away from her, backing up across the floor.

“What was that?” Dr. Burnell asked.

Danny shook his head. “My mom didn’t do anything.”

“Okay.” She whispered. “Okay. She didn’t do anything. But we still don’t know what that is inside your chest. It might be a tumor. We need to-”

He covered his chest with his hands. “No!”

His core in their hands. Bright lights. Even brighter light. It fell back in his chest and his parents were covering their eyes. His chance.

“You can’t have it!”

“What is it?”

Danny stared at her. He couldn’t tell some random person his secret. There was no way.

But this was a doctor. If his mom kept forcing him to go to doctors appointment after doctor's appointment, he’d keep having the same problem. The doctor’s discovering something they shouldn’t have that could only really be worked back to his parents.

Was there anything else he could do?

“It’s… It’s my core. I’m half ghost.”

“Half ghost?” Dr. Burnell asked. “That doesn’t sound real.”

Danny nodded. “It is. But you can’t tell my parents. CPS can’t talk to them.”

She gave him some placating hand gestures. “Okay, okay. They’re on their way right now. How do we stop them?”

Danny turned intangible and invisible and called on his transformation. He flew his way towards the waiting room and got there just as someone walked up to his mom.

“Madeline Fenton-”

He flew into their body, overshadowing him.

“Yes?” Maddie asked.

“Oh, nothing much. We just wanted to check and say hi. Danny will be out shortly.”

“Oh! Okay. Should I start checking out?”

He nodded. “You guys will be all set to go.”

She stood up and headed towards the reception desk. Danny turned and walked through the door leading to the hallway and walked the agent around a couple turns and corners before flying out of him.

Danny transformed back and was about to walk back out through the door when he saw Dr. Burnell.

She had a stoney expression on her face. He was sure she didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t believe him either. But there was no other option. Not one that disrupted his entire life and flipped everything on its side. He was already different. He didn’t want anything else to change.

He walked back out through the door, ignoring Dr. Burnells gaze.

“How did everything turn out Danny?” Maddie asked him as they walked out through the front entrance.

Bright light. Saw. Nicked his core. Screams. Escape.

“It’s alright.” Danny lied. “Perfect bill of health.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #dissection mention #medical procedures #medical examination #phic phight 2024 #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic

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