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romerona · 1 month ago

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Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

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ohmygraves · 1 year ago

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once, you tried to hide from your husband simon.

it wasn't your first attempt, of course. he's very observant and would notice you missing if you were out of his sight for like five seconds. you two are basically joined to the hip, so it's really, really hard for you to just somehow disappear from his sight. you're thankful that somehow he didn't even set up security cameras for the house himself.

of course, that doesn't discourage you from pranking your husband.

simon was away on a deployment for a few months, and you have been planning all of this from start to finish. you've seen lots of tiktok and reels and whatever about seeing how long your spouse will go look for you if you went missing, and you're kind of curious as to how long it takes for him to go look for you. clearly, you weren't thinking that far ahead.

you went and set up cameras yourself, since it's high time that you need to install one anyway. you told simon before he left, he completely trusted you to deal with it. he's most likely going to check everything when he comes back anyway, making sure that you did everything properly. but that's how you find yourself sitting impatiently, waiting for him to pull over the driveway of your shared home.

after setting everything up, you make sure that the cameras are working around the house. one by the front door, one in each room (except the bathroom), one in the garage and overseeing the driveway, and one facing the backyard.

this was flawless. this was amazing. he's going to laugh and find you in five seconds as usual.

you quickly hide yourself in the closet after you hear him pull over, making sure to keep your voice as low as possible. you giggled as you saw him call for you as he walked into the house through the security camera. but you weren't ready to see what happened next.

simon kept calling for you, looking around nervously as he couldn't find you. he dropped his duffel bag on the floor, kicking his boots off in a rush as he looked everywhere for you, getting increasingly agitated and anxious since you didn't respond. you can clearly see how panicked he was, how scared he is. his voice cracks as you could hear him pass from room to room, his hands flipping through your entire house to find you.

seeing how panicked he was, you felt really bad.

you quickly leave your hiding spot, calling out to simon. he was holding a knife in his hand, a panicked look on his eyes as he turns to you, eyes blown wide. his breathing is irregular.

"simon! i'm sorry! i was hiding and—"

you couldn't even finish your sentence before he hugged you, dropping his knife as he held you close to him. his body shook silently as he pressed you against his chest, not wanting to let go. you could feel his heart beating fast, his fingers trembling against the small of your back. you could feel wetness dropping against your skin, but you're too scared to say it out loud.

"... don't do that again..."

"i'm sorry, simon..."

he didn't say anything, simply holding you tighter in his arms. he wouldn't leave you alone for a few days afterwards. you're sure he's still mad at you after what you did, but he didn't say anything, too busy holding you close to him hoping that somehow he could glue the two of you together so you wouldn't wander off.

you learned that you probably shouldn't try and scare him like that again.

#not proud of this one :x #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanon #cod headcanon #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 months ago

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Clumsy Corporals

Pairing: Ghost x Reader

Summary: Someone takes a tumble in Ghost's bathroom, leaving him to clean up the mess.

Warnings: Angst, attempted assault, language, violence, injuries, fluff, murder(?), Nudity,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: fun fact - this is the first instalment for Ghost and Mouse that I ever wrote, and everything else kinda fell into place around this which I think is beautiful

A/n2: Posting this cause I feel like I just wanna escape reality a lot now and maybe some of you do too.

~*~

"Johnny told me you didn't join 'em for dinner again," Ghost says after closing the door to his quarters.

He can hear the shower running and shakes his head, following the sound and pushing open the ajar door.

"How are they supposed to warm up to you if..." the words die on his tongue almost comically as he takes in the scene before him.

You're curled up in a ball on the bathroom counter, bloodied hands clutching a towel tightly around what appears to be your naked body.

On the ground is Corporal Jacobs, a knife through the underside of his chin and a pool of blood around his head.

His lifeless eyes are open, and your eyes are focused on his body as if waiting for him to get up, to move, to attack.

Ghost surveys the scene quickly, taking in the marks around your neck, the blood on your hairline, and the cut on your cheek.

"What happened?"

He doesn't need to ask, but he does anyway.

Your bottom lip quivers, and for a moment he's not sure if you even heard him. You don't flinch, your breathing doesn't change, and you don't lift your eyes from the corpse on the ground.

"Mouse. Eyes on me."

Your gaze finally snaps to his and you suck in a sharp breath as if realizing his presence for the first time.

He inspects your face once more, swallowing his rage when he sees the bruise blooming by your eye.

"What happened here?" He nods to the body on the ground.

You follow his gaze and he watches intently as your fists tighten and you swallow hard. Your lip quivers so fast it nearly vibrates, but you take a deep breath and eventually speak.

"He fell."

He thinks he's misheard you at first, glancing between the dead man and you.

He kneels down and grabs hold of the hilt of the knife stuck under the man's chin. A knife that Ghost distinctly remembers you taking from him a long while ago.

"He fell?" He asks, tilting the dead man's head to the side and grinding his teeth together at the claw marks on the side of his face.

You put up quite the fight. He'd be proud if he wasn't so filled with fury.

You slowly lift your eyes to his and his stone heart cracks a bit at the unshed tears he sees.

"Yes," you whisper.

He watches you for a breath longer then nods slowly, looking back down to the mess on the bathroom floor.

"Looks like he took quite the tumble, hmm? Silly prick, s'what you get for running with knives."

A weight lifts slightly off of your shoulders and you nod, wiping a tear off of your cheek with a bloody hand, leaving a mess in your wake.

"Now, did he fall before or after your shower?"

You swallow hard before answering, shaking your head as if trying to get rid of the memory of what happened.

"Before." Your voice is so quiet, quieter than usual, and he finds himself straining to hear you.

He pieces together all that he can with what's before him, and quickly comes up with a plan.

"It's late, little one. How's about you finish your shower, and-"

"No!"

He's taken aback by the force of your words, the ferocity of them. The terror in your eyes is twice as surprising.

"No shower?" He clarifies, glancing at the running water, no doubt cold by now.

You shake your head, confirming his words, and he nods his understanding.

Slowly, he stands up and turns the water off, then takes a step toward you.

"New plan. You sit right here, and I stay with you. I'll call Price and Johnny to come clean this up. How's that sound?" He asks, his eyes locked on yours.

You think about it for a long moment then slowly nod, leaning into his hand when he pushes some of your hair back.

A soft sigh leaves his lips and he leans forward, placing a soft kiss to your hairline before stepping back to send a quick generic text to the two men he trusts most.

Pipe burst in my quarters. Get here now.

It takes a minute and a half for Price to get there, two minutes for Soap.

"I'm gonna go meet them at the door, Mouse, but I won't be out of eyeshot, okay? Keep your eyes on me the whole time. That's an order."

You nod carefully, your eyes never leaving his as he takes calculated steps backward out of the bathroom to meet the other men at the door.

"What's going on, Lt?" Soap's gruff voice asks quietly.

The huge man takes a slow step back, allowing the two into his room.

Each man does a sweep of the room, their eyes finally landing on the bathroom and the bloody scene within.

"Fuckin' hell," Soap murmurs, rubbing his jaw.

"What happened?" Price asks quietly, looking at you skeptically.

Your eyes, however, are still locked onto Ghost's.

Ghost gives you a gentle nod then glances over at his teammates, his friends.

"He fell."

"What the bloody hell was he doin' in 'ere in the first place?" Soap asks, slowly walking toward the bathroom to inspect.

His eyes take you in, take in the blood on your hands, the bruising wrapping like a necklace around your neck.

"I think I have an idea," is Ghost's grunted reply.

Your eyes are on the Scot as he steps into the bathroom. Your breath hitches and you scoot back on the counter the tiniest bit.

"Easy, Mouse. Johnny's just gonna help clean up. You can trust him, remember?"

Soap looks up at you and gives you a gentle smile, his own anger rising when he sees more of the damage on your soft face.

"You've saved my arse. More than once, I imagine. S'only fair I help clean up after the poor man's fall," he says gently.

You watch him for a long while then slowly nod, sniffling then wiping your face against your arm, only to hiss at the unexpected pain.

"Why don't you let the Lieutenant get you patched up, sweetheart, hmm? Let Soap and I deal with this?" Price offers, stepping into the doorway.

You look between the three of them then nod again, watching in awe as they move like a well-oiled machine.

Soap takes a step further into the bathroom and Price steps out of it, making way for Ghost to walk in and carefully scoop you up in his arms.

He carries you from the bathroom and sits you down on his desk, turning his back for just long enough to grab a first aid kit.

Price and Soap immediately get to work in the bathroom as Ghost gets to work tending to your -visible- wounds.

He starts with your face, spraying a gentle antiseptic onto the cut on your cheek.

Your eyes stay focused on his as he works, and every now and then he meets your gaze.

The bathroom door opens but you don't look away from Ghost as Price and Soap shuffle by.

Ghost, however, takes a pause and shoots a glance over his shoulder.

"Dump 'im outside. I'll do the rest."

They don't question him.

The only thing allowing him to keep a level head right now is the promise of chopping that pathetic piece of shit's body up into a thousand unrecognizable pieces and feeding him to the stray dogs in the city.

But he needs to make sure you're taken care of, first.

"When we're done here, Johnny will get you a snack while I take care of... our friend. Okay?" Though it's posed like a question, you know he's telling you what's happening and leaving little room to argue.

The door shuts with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asks, scooting back to inspect you as much as he can.

You swallow hard and glance down, shrugging.

"I know you don't want to, but I think you should shower. I'll be right outside the door, won't let anyone in. I swear."

You look at him with wide eyes and shake your head.

"Come with me?" You finally ask, looking toward the bathroom as if it's where nightmares spawn.

For you, it is.

His brows draw together.

"You want me to sit in there with you?"

You shake your head again.

"In the water... please?"

Realization dawns on him and he's not too sure how to feel.

"You want me to shower with you?"

You nod, dainty fingers sliding over his wrist almost absentmindedly.

He doesn't have the heart to refuse you. To tell you that the shower is hardly big enough to fit him comfortably, let alone the both of you.

Instead, he just nods and helps you to your feet.

He's gentle with you, alarmingly so, as he helps you into the -now clean- bathroom, locking the door and turning the shower on.

You lean against the counter, towel held tightly around your body as he undresses swiftly.

When he's naked, he reaches a hand out to you and waits patiently for you to drop your towel, then steadies you as you step into the shower.

You barely made it this far before Corporal Jacobs-

Your thoughts are cut off by Simon stepping into the shower behind you, big warm hand holding your hip gently.

His chest presses against your back, the tiny shower even tinier now that it accommodates two.

"You okay, pretty mouse?" He asks, arms winding around your waist.

You shrug, leaning into him for a moment before slowly turning around to look up at him.

His eyes find yours, reading you, hearing the words you don't have the strength to say out loud, and then he's pressing his forehead against yours.

"You did good, little one. M'proud of you. Next time let me kill him, though. Poor bastard got off too easy, thinkin' he can go around n' touch what's mine. 'sides, don't need any blood on your pretty hands."

Your lip quivers and you tug your head away to lean it against his chest.

"Was scared," you whisper after a moment.

"Yeah, I bet."

"Of you," you add after a moment, not lifting your head even when you feel him stiffen.

"Why?" He finally asks, the fingers of his right hand trailing up and down your spine.

"Thought you... would not listen. Would think it was me."

His hand snakes up your back to grab your hair, tugging your head back gently and forcing you to look up at him.

His face is bare for your viewing pleasure, the steam the only thing between the two of you.

"Do you understand how much you mean to me? 've killed for you, love. 'n I'd do it again in a heartbeat, without question."

A silent tear slips down your cheek and is quickly lost in the humidity of the bathroom.

No more words are spoken for the rest of the shower.

He helps you gently wash your hair and your body, taking note of every scratch and bruise that wasn't there when he left you this morning.

Every new mark on your soft supple skin is another piece he's going to be cutting Jacob's body into, and he cannot wait.

But he needs to take care of his Mouse first.

When your fingers start to prune and the water is running a little cold, Simon helps you out of the shower and wraps a towel around you tightly.

He ushers you out of the bathroom, sitting you on the bed while he dries himself and tugs on some clothes.

After that, his focus is entirely on you. He dries you off gently, his eyes focused on yours the entire time, and you can't help but melt into his touch.

He helps you into one of his shirts then slides a pair of socks onto your feet.

"Do you want some water?" He asks quietly, his warm hands on your bare knees.

You shake your head, reaching forward and sliding your fingers over his thick shoulders.

"Want you. Stay."

He obeys, climbing into bed with you.

You curl up against him, nuzzling your head under his chin and taking deep comforting breaths of his scent.

He holds you against him until you fall asleep, moving only when his phone vibrates from its spot on the ground beside the bed.

Reaching for it slowly, careful not to move you too much, he scoops it up off the ground and reads the message quickly.

He sets his phone down and gingerly rolls you out of his arms, tucking you in tightly and then silently getting dressed.

He shoots you one last look once he's all dressed and ready, then slips out the door, shutting it tightly behind himself.

Soap stands outside the door, silently nodding to his Lieutenant, then turning his back to the door - keeping guard.

No words are spoken as the skull-faced man heads out to the coordinates on his phone. No questions are asked when he returns hours later with his sweater and gloves discarded and the faint smell of fire in his hair.

And when you wake up and start asking questions, he's sure to kiss them away and reassure you that you're safe. That Corporal Jacobs will never lift a finger to harm you again.

How can he? All ten are chopped off and sprinkled in different parts of the city.

Let that be a lesson to the next idiot who tries to harm his sweet little Mouse.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost and mouse #mouse and ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon/you #simon riley/you #simon riley/reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost/reader #tw: assault #tw: sa

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bellyyearner · 6 months ago

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Office life at 550+ lbs

Word count: 1061

Extreme obesity, mobility issues, work environment, feedee perspective

No gender mentioned POV

Being a working feedee is hard sometimes, especially when your gain slows down to a snails pace despite how much you've been eating. In the last 3 years you've only put on another 40lbs, but you have an easy job that pays the bills and allows you to live comfortably so you can't complain too much. The only part of this job you hate though, is the journey inside.

As you exit your car you can already feel the sweat forming between your rolls, it's been taking a few tries lately to stand up after swinging your hefty left leg out onto the concrete. You've even questioned if you should bring your car to the shop to check the suspension just in case your fat ass crashing back down onto the driver seat a half dozen times a day might be causing issues. At the very least you were thankful for your personal parking spot only being about 250ft from the elevator up to the office floor. Only 100ft from the buildings entrance and the cold AC running throughout the building.

And so you begin your slow pendulous waddle, thighs scraping against each other with every step, causing so much friction your jeans always have a distinct wear pattern only a couple weeks after buying them. One foot infront the other you waddle, repeating the laboured motion as your breath grows heavy and your belly slaps against the tops of your thighs. Halfway to the door now you hear the clicking of heels against the concrete, 2 interns whizzing by you without a word. You can't even imagine moving as fast as they do, or why they'd even want to move that fast in the first place. Your sense of urgency left you a couple hundred pounds ago.

Another 20 heavy steps later you reach the door, a mailman on the other side who was about to leave opens it for you, clearly staring at your mammoth size and brow covered in sweat. You make it inside and can barely catch your breath to say thank you before he's gone. The AC graces your hot sweaty skin and you feel relief, you spot your double wide chair HR had fought to get installed for you last year, and plop down on it with a huff. All there's left to do is catch your breath for a couple minutes, walk 60 steps through the lobby, turn right, walk 10 steps to the elevator, a minute of standing, and another 30 steps to your cubicle. Where you will then chow down on a couple snacks you brought and rehydrate before looking at spreadsheets and grazing on more food for 8 hours. A routine you had grown so accustomed to that it became second nature.

You look at the handle bar bolted into the wall and remember when you found it insulting, but now it was a necessity. Gripping the bar you start to stand hoping a second try isn't needed because of how many people were in the lobby. You can feel your heart quake and your knees whine but thankfully you hauled your lard laden ass off the seat in one attempt.

The second journey begins and the heavy waddle ensues, gut bouncing, thighs scraping, mouth open and breathing loudly enough that you're attracting attention. You try to ignore their stares but it's only fueling your appetite, already making a mental list of what you're going to grab from the vending machine once you get off the elevator. A few minutes later you round the corner and take the final few steps only to notice a sign on the elevator. You can't read it yet but you can feel your heart sinking already. It can't be right? They would've told you. They would've sent an email or a text. "Out of order".

Panic sets in, you can't climb 4 flights of stairs, you bought a one story house for good reason, you haven't had to climb more than a curb in years at this point. Your mind is growing frantic as you feel the burden your legs are under grow stronger, anticipating if you're really gonna be expected to climb the stairs.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Susy in HR

"Hey! I'm so sorry 'your name', this just happened like an hour ago and I totally forgot to tell you. The elevator is having some major issues and we don't know when it'll be fixed. I dug up that old paper work you filed 6 months ago about work from home and I'm gonna push it through asap! I've sent Lucy downstairs with a work laptop for you to bring home, just take a couple days off while we get all the paperwork in order."

Relief washes over you as you hear the distinct clicking of heels coming down the stairs. You steady your breath and try to seem unfazed, almost certain you look ridiculous.

Lucy: "Hey 'your name', here's your laptop and a cherry cola, figured you would need it before heading back to your car ;). You know I'm gonna miss seeing you around here, less stuff to talk about and no one to gawk at. You have my number so just let me know if you need me to come over to help you adjust"

A quick farewell and her heels were clicking back up the stairs, but all you could think about was how you're never gonna see the inside of that office again. With no where to go and no decency to be upheld there was no reason you wouldn't finally break 600lbs. You chug the Cola, wanting to make one final show for the coworkers and acquaintances you've made over the years, and start the final journey, one to immobility.

With a gassy belly swaying from side to side, your humongous thighs atop fattened lard laden calves carry you through the lobby one last time. Not even trying to hide your burps and groans you walk out of the building, skipping the chair by the door you once saw as a refuge. Thoughts of what takeout you're gonna get delivered and a quickly growing Walmart order forming in your mind as you slowly waddle through the parking lot one last time. All fueled by the dream of being an immobile work from home piggy

Part 2

#violet stories #feedee encouragement #feedism writing #feeding kink #fat belly #feedee story

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revelboo · 3 months ago

Note

Maybe some optimus, metroplex, or tfp ratchet pretty please🙏 I have no special reason bc you always make sure we're fed regularly I'm just addicted to them💅 *looping around your legs like a cat and you're holding the treat bag*

Also I am floored over some(all tbh) of the other characters recent chapters and just how many different paths all these stories are on and how well they all flow like do you somehow have extra storage space in your brain??? Where can I get the update installed for myself😂how the hell are you sorting all these bc you may pump them out fast but thats still like a lot of things to track😅 plz tell me you have a comically large brick of sticky notes you're slowly going through bc otherwise real talk if youre just rawdogging this all by memory plz ignore the request and give your brain a rest🙏we ly but plz make sure to take breaks with lots of snacks and sleep💗

Nah, I just keep track of them in my head. I’m weird like that 😅 I’m doing better now. First day I’ve woken up without a headache in two weeks

I Can Feel You Pt 11

Metroplex x Reader

• Rasping softly, brows creasing in frustration that he can’t speak. Still. Keeps his head turned toward where you’re sitting on a table with Ratchet’s tools as the medic works to repair the drone’s damaged systems. To give him a voice again. Something pulls, hurts and there’s a burst of staticky noise. “Little one,” he says, not his voice, but his words. And you stand, little fingers fisted in the blanket Ratchet has given you. “I think everything should be back online now, but take it easy. This drone’s been inactive for centuries,” Ratchet says. But he’s not listening, focused on you as he mass shifts the drone to your size, the energy strain slamming through him in drowning pain. Crippling him and severing the connection to the drone. Hearing Ratchet’s frustrated, “What did I just say?”

• Visor dimming, the drone sags. “Metroplex?” Looking from him to Ratchet when the medic vents tiredly. “Is he gone again?” Nodding, the medic slams down a tool a bit rougher than necessary. “Can I sit with him until he comes back? Please,” you add as he frowns at you.

• “Probably not a good idea. Any involuntary movement could hurt you even at that size,” he mutters so you content yourself with sitting on the edge of the table, legs dangling. “We should at least get some answers,” he grumbles. “No matter how much damage we repair, he’s rerouting energy somewhere and staying critically low.” Hesitating as he begins cleaning his tools, he looks at you, expression critical. “Hound told me you’d said the Titan was speaking to you.”

• Face heating at the memory that speaking isn’t all you’d done, you shrug weakly. “He was lonely. I started talking to him first.” Because you’d been lonely, too. Overlooked a lot of the time by the Autobots just because you’re so small, an after thought most of the time. Easily forgotten. But Metroplex had heard you, seen you. Reached out in return. Echoing your loneliness and halving it.

• Again. Frustrated as he retreats deeper into himself, knows he needs to build energy again. Be patient. But the drone is there with you. It’s mass displaced. These are steps forward, not stumbles. He just has to remain on course. You’re waiting for him. You’ll be right there. He needs to believe it, desperate to hold you in his arms even if they’re borrowed. To recharge with your heartbeat against him, to hear your soft voice and to be able to answer. Wants to hear about your day, your dreams, everything. And he’s getting closer to that goal. Closer to you.

Amusing myself all the way to Pier Park leaving notes

#transformers x reader #metroplex x reader #idw metroplex

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kittenshift-17 · 6 months ago

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"Soooo... what are we gonna do if he doesn't go away?" Stiles asked softly after spitting out the pool water that’d seeped past his lips.

They both knew what he was talking about. Derek was completely paralysed, and the dead weight of the werewolf was weighing him down. They could both feel Stiles’s strength beginning to wane after two hours of treading water.

"Risk whatever he's gonna do to us if we swim to the edge?" Derek suggested, and Stiles could tell from the look on his face that the werewolf knew that way led a gory, blood-soaked death.

"Think I'd rather drown than be gutted," he muttered.

Derek didn't say anything to that, but he didn't really have to. After two hours of this, Derek had accepted that any minute now, he would drown. He didn't trust humans, especially not Stiles, and he'd been waiting for Stiles to make the decision to save himself. To throw Derek's arm off himself and swim for the edge. To let him sink and leave him to die.

He hadn't yet, and Derek didn't know why, other than the fear of the kanima outweighing his fear of drowning.

"Maybe he'll go away," Derek suggested. "I'm pretty sure someone's controlling him."

"Controlling him to keep us in the pool?" Stiles frowned.

"He's clearly after one of us," Derek shrugged.

"Probably you after all the times you've hunted him."

Derek agreed, though he didn't say so.

"If that's the case, he'll probably let you leave," he pointed out quietly. "You... you can let me go, you know."

Stiles twisted his head to gape at him in confusion.

"You'll drown."

"Yeah, but you won't," Derek answered seriously. "I know you're tired. If you wait any longer, you won't have the strength to swim to the edge and climb out."

Stiles gave him an indecipherable look, the skin around his eyes tightening.

"You don't have to drown with me," Derek murmured quietly because he was certain they both would if Stiles didn't let him go.

"We don't know for certain that it's after you," Stiles replied evenly, looking away from him before he began kicking a little harder and using the arm not holding Derek up to begin dragging them both through the water toward the shallower end.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying not to drown," Stiles huffed.

Derek knew he was flagging. He could feel the way the younger man's muscles trembled with every circle of limbs designed to keep them afloat. Stiles kept swimming while the kanima circled the pool edge, hissing and flicking his creepy serpentine tail. Despite the lizard skin, he reminded Derek of a cat eyeing a bird it wanted to hunt but couldn't reach.

"The pool is still too deep at the other end for you to touch the bottom," Derek pointed out.

"The disability access steps aren't," Stiles grunted and Derek's eyes widened, remembering the school had installed a special staircase into the water that would allow those who couldn't use the ladder to still swim.

"He'll be able to reach with his claws," Derek warned.

"Not if I stay right at the edge of them. I should be able to stand up there."

He kept struggling, panting heavily and almost dropping them both under the water several times. Derek hated being so helpless, his limbs completely numb.

"You don't have to save me, Stiles," he tried again.

"Dude, you only got cut and fell into the pool in the first place because you were trying to push me out of the way when he came at us," Stiles disagreed. "I know you're fast enough to outrun that thing. You could have legged it like Erica did. But you didn't. I'm not gonna let you die for me."

The logic floored Derek.

Like, yeah, he had been trying to save Stiles, but he was bigger and stronger and faster, and the creature probably wasn't after the sarcastic teenager.

"Made it," Stiles grunted in relief, and Derek felt it when he got his feet under him on the solid steps and was no longer straining to tread water.

The creature snarled, swiping at them and it hissed and skittering away when it got wet again.

"It's definitely afraid of the water."

Derek nodded in agreement as Stiles adjusted his grip on him, unfurling Derek's arm from around his shoulders and turning his body to put both arms around his waist, Derek's back to his chest.

He leaned back against the bollard in the middle of the step, installed to ensure no one in a wheelchair using the steps accidentally rolled into the spot that would be too deep. On the step, the water barely cleared Stiles's stomach when he stood at full height - the perfect depth for someone in a chair to keep their head above water. But to keep out of reach of the creature, they had to stay as submerged as possible.

Derek ended up practically in Stiles lap, the boy using his own thighs to help keep Derek’s head above water, arranging his legs to balance the back of his thighs over Stiles’s knees. The alpha wolf inside his soul hated the position, so utterly vulnerable with Stiles at his back, his warm breath huffing at the side of his neck and cheek, over the top of his shoulder. His arms around his waist, supporting him.

"Thank you," he forced himself to say while Stiles panted tiredly, his forehead leaning against the back of Derek's head. "For not letting me drown."

"Yeah, well, you didn't let that thing gut me," Stiles muttered. "And you saved me when Isaac wanted to eat me on his first full moon."

They fell silent after that, Stiles still panting a little from the exertion - he was going to be sore in the coming days after the strain on his muscles, Derek was sure of it. The creature came back a few times, never getting close enough to the water's edge to reach them again, before eventually, it disappeared.

"He's gone," Derek said quietly, and Stiles jolted against his back, having almost dozed off.

"You sure? He could be hiding to try and lure us out."

Derek listened for the creature's heartbeat, but only the steady thump of his own and Stiles’s met his ears.

"We're alone," Derek confirmed.

"Oh, thank God. I'm freezing."

He stirred beneath Derek, beginning to drag him up the stairs to get them both out of the water.

"I think some feeling is coming back," Derek confided when Stiles had him on dry land.

"Of course it is," Stiles huffed. "Perfect timing."

Derek managed to drag himself into a sitting position right as another heartbeat reached his ears followed by the drum of rapid footsteps. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, only to see Scott running into view.

"Stiles! Derek!" Scott yelled.

"More perfect timing," Stiles muttered bitterly. "You couldn't have shown up an hour ago, Scott?"

Derek huffed as well because it was annoying that Scott, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd had all left them here. They could have died.

Stiles looked over at Derek when Scott hauled him onto his feet. Derek met his gaze, his legs still weak.

Stiles had protected him. This mouthy, sarcastic spazz had been willing to drown for him, to die with him rather than leaving him alone to save himself.

Derek couldn't remember the last time anyone had shown him that kind of loyalty. Maybe Laura? Maybe his parents? All of them wolves, all with blood ties to him. And yet here was this stubborn, smart ass human who annoyed Derek more than anyone else he'd ever met, and he'd saved him. He'd shown more loyalty than his pack members had.

The bond snapped into place with a crack like lightning, zinging through his cells, his blood, his soul, and Derek grunted at the sting. Stiles jumped like he'd had a fright, and Scott tensed nervously as the scent of ozone and lightning flooded the space between them. Emotion poured through, heat searing along the pathway linking the two of them. Confusion. Curiosity. Worry. Anxiety. Exhaustion. All of it sizzled into him, and Derek had to close his eyes, taking a controlled breath.

"What just happened?" Scott confirmed, sniffing worriedly.

Stiles was rubbing his chest where the bond originated, his eyes fixed on Derek, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but had no words.

Derek met his gaze steadily, knowing firsthand how overwhelming a pack bond could be when it formed, even for a wolf. For a human, it had to be like being electrocuted, burned alive, and drowned all at the same time. The linking of souls, or mind, or emotions all designed to attune a packmate to another, designed to protect, to connect, to irrevocably link.

"Is... is this... a wolf thing?" Stiles asked and Derek was certain his own resignation, gratitude, confusion, and ever-present underlying anger were all flooding down the bond to Stiles in return.

"What?" Scott asked. "What happened?"

"A pack bond," Derek confirmed quietly, not daring to tell either of them that the last time he'd shared a pack bond with anyone, it'd been Laura. His family. He hadn't bonded with the wolves he'd bitten, and his bond to Peter had been burned out of him like everything else during the fire.

Something unknotted in Derek's belly when Stiles stumbled across the space between the two of them.

"What's a pack bond?" Scott asked dumbly because the boy was an idiot who kept rejecting everything wolfish instead of learning about what he'd become.

Stiles gripped Derek's waist, clinging to him, pushing into his space, and Derek managed to get his arm up, gripping the back of Stiles’s neck in return. He pulled Stiles in by it, burying his nose in Stiles’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, like caramel and sunshine, and the medicinal tang of his Adderall all currently overlaid with the stink of chlorine from the pool.

"Stiles? What's happening? What is this? I thought you two hated each other?" Scott asked, bewildered.

Derek didn't bother explaining it to him, just clung to Stiles tighter and closed his eyes relishing in the complete overwhelm of having a pack bond again, his wolf howling with joy after so long on his own. Stiles burrowed into him, arms curling all the way around him while he buried his head in Derek's neck, clinging to him tightly, hugging him while he trembled.

It might’ve been completely unintentional, and Derek was certain that when the euphoria wore off, he'd resent being so intimately linked with the spastic human, but for now, he had a new pack bondmate, and for the first time in over a year, Derek felt at peace.

Xx-Kitten

#kittenshift17 #fanfiction #writing #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #teen wolf

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enmansiflooring · 3 months ago

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 28 days ago

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(So someone gave me this really cute ask from that one scene in Turning Red. You know the scene I accidentally posted without finishing it? Lol. But I will finish it now.)

You stared at your mother as she sat in front of her white vanity mirror. Her room looked like a showroom for an actress, except way bigger. You lay on her bed, just staring as she put on her lashes and tried a new red lip combo, only to turn back at you and ask if it was too much. To an uncultured fool, it would look like too much, but to you, it looked perfect—completely and utterly perfect. You sat up off the bed, nodding your head and making your mom giggle.

"Okay, okay, red it is, then." She gave you a soft smile. She looked at the different wigs in front of her—blonde, red, or plain black. Maybe she'll go crazy and do multiple colors. She waved her hand, beckoning you to come over, and you did eagerly, jumping off the leopard-print pink and black bed. You skipped over to her, and she showed you the wigs.

I was thinking about a bob, but then I considered something more scandalous: long blonde hair. But the pink one makes me look cute, like Jessica Rabbit, but with a hint of Princess Bubblegum. My mom was a bit of a nerd; she grew up watching old Power Rangers and Dragon Ball on TV, so it makes sense why she would raise a nerd like me. I looked at the wigs and picked the pink one.

"Gum!" You giggled, and it made her laugh she put you on her lap gently

"Great choice, sugarbutt," she installed the wig in her hair, making you hand her the edge brush. She made little heart edges that you loved. Next up is jewelry, dresses, and shoes. Your momma let you play dress-up with her in different outfits and styles, like she was your very own dress-up doll.

"How about this?" She posed in front of you wearing a stylish pink and black dress with little black ruffles and black butterflies on the long pink skirt. It made her look like a real-life Black Barbie; your mouth dropped to the floor.

"Too much? Or too little?" she questioned softly. You shook your head fast.

"Perfect!" You squeaked, giggling and clapping your hands as you ran over to your mom, who picked you up in her arms.

"Okay, what's next?" she asked sweetly.

"Necklace!" You snicker.

"And?" she asked sweetly.

"Earning!" You cried out, and she chuckled at your outburst.

"But you forgot one very special thing," you picked up little gold bangles, letting them jingle like bells, and your eyes shone.

"Pretty, right?" She placed them on her arm, and you stared at them as if they were golden stars. Then she stood up in front of you.

"Good enough for the red carpet, sugarbutt." And you clapped like she was already on the carpet, posing for the paparazzi and the Daily Planet. You were her number-one fan, and you still are to this very day.

#x black reader #batfamily x neglected reader #weird!reader #black!reader #x neglected reader #yandere batboys #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne #batmom!reader #batmom #black fem reader #black male reader #black nonbinary

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whereubeenloca · 2 months ago

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Leftovers

Part 4 of the Neighbor! Reader series! Table of contents

Summary: Carmy brings you leftover menu items as a thank you.

Tags: VERY slow burn, Awkward flirting

Word Count: 1069

a/n- thank you all for the support! I'm happy yall are digging my silly little stories :)

You realize you don’t know a lot about your upstairs neighbor.

Well, you know his name - Carmen, but it’s not like you talk. You know he works late and wakes up early, you know he smokes based on the collection of cigarette butts that suddenly appeared on your shared stoop after he moved in. Other than that? Nothing, nada, zilch.

This is to say, you were incredibly surprised when you saw his name pop up on your phone.

“You around?”

Yeah, you had his number, but save for the initial “hi” text the thread had remained silent. It’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to type back.

“Yeah, why?”

He doesn’t respond but you hear him moving around upstairs. Heavy footsteps move from one corner of the ceiling to the other, followed by the slam of a door. Before you know it, he’s knocking at your door. You’re quick to open it, shooting him a confused look. He stares back, arms full of small deli containers.

“Hi.” He says curtly, shifting the containers in his arms. “You uh- eat meat?”

You must have made some kind of face at him, because he looks down at the containers and back to you.

“So, no…?” He asks tentatively, you finally snap out of it.

Your face flushes hot with embarrassment, “No- well- yes. I eat meat.” You say simply, looking him over again. “But… what?” You ask, gesturing to the containers vaguely.

Suddenly he’s aware of how odd this looks. His cheeks go red as he clears his throat.

“I own a restaurant.” He says a little too fast, as if his statement explains anything.

You must still look confused because he tries again.

“Was trying out some new stuff for the menu. Uh… lots of leftovers.” He clears his throat as he shifts his weight. “As a thank you for the door thing.” He explains.

You nod at that, he blinks back.

“So… can I…?” He asks, readjusting the containers in his arms.

“Oh- yeah of course. Please.” You stutter, scrambling to the side to let him in.

“Sorry, it’s a mess.” You huff, picking up things as you move through your living area. “Kitchen’s over there.” You say, pointing to your left.

“Cleaner than mine.” He responds, eyes scanning your apartment before he turns into your kitchen.

Kitchen was a strong word for it. Along the far wall sits a row of sad looking cabinets, a fridge and a stove. Carmy’s shoes squeak against the poorly installed linoleum floors as he gently dumps his containers onto the small table in the center of the room. You watch as he fusses over them, arranging them into a line.

“What kind of restaurant do you have?” You ask, looking at the containers. You can’t really tell what any of this stuff actually is. Each container is adorned with its own set of green labels, one with a date the other with its name.

“It's a fine-dining, chaos menu, full service experience.” He rattles off before meeting your confused gaze.

He clears his throat “Uh… a little bit of everything.” He corrects.

You lean your palms into the table to inspect the food further. You gesture to the array of tupperware between the two of you, circling your palm around the three deli containers. “What’d you bring?”

He points to the smallest container. “Mango chutney, pureed.” He says as he picks up another container and places it on top, tapping his finger on the lid. “Goes with the cod. And uh…bucatini in a bolognese sauce. There’s pork and cherry in it. Still working on that one.” He explains, poking the lid at the end of his sentence.

“Sounds really good actually.” You hum in response, shifting your weight with a smile. “You didn’t have to do all this though, Carmen.”

“Carmy.” He quickly corrects.

You furrow your brows. “You said your name was Carmen.” You say, confused. “Right? Have I been calling you the wrong name this whole time?”

“No- no.” He interjects. “I just prefer Carmy. My uh. My friends call me that.” He clears his throat, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. Carmy’s cheeks go pink as he quickly busies himself with a scratch on the surface, dragging the nail of his thumb into it over and over.

You feel your cheeks flush a bit at the word friend. When did that happen? “Well. Thanks, Carmy.” You say softly, testing the nickname.

His eyes flick to yours again, a boyish smile on his face. “Yeah, f’course. I mean, if anything you’re doing me a favor.”

“Yeah?” You laugh in response.

“Oh yeah.” Carmy laughs back, straightening out his shoulders. “I’ve got all kinds of stuff up there, there’s no way I can go through it all.”

“Well I’m glad I could help.” You smile back.”I’m excited to try it later.”

He hums softly as the conversation peters out. The two of you stand there for a second, side by side soaking in one another. You can feel him standing next to you and suddenly you become more aware of your own body. Do you always stand like this? Are you slouching right now? Was he standing this close the whole time? Your mind buzzes with self-awareness you haven’t felt since middle school. You don’t really want him to leave but you can’t think of anything else to say. Before you can do anything, he drums his palms against the edge of the table before pushing off of it.

“I should get going.” He says softly.

“Oh- yeah of course.” You nod in response, “Thanks again for the food.” You smile as you walk him to the door.

“Let me know what you think, yeah? Don’t hold back.” He says as he crosses the threshold into the hallway, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he faces you.

“I’ll be thorough.” You joke. He laughs and you bite back a grin.

Again you swear he’s lingering. He shifts his weight back onto his heels as his eyes stay on you.

“See you around?” You ask, an attempt at a goodbye.

“Yeah.” He looks at his shoes before taking a full step back. “See you.” Carmy raises his hand to you before disappearing up the stairs towards his apartment.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you shut the door.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #x reader #em's fics #neighbor! reader au

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hypernova-writes · 2 months ago

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The Doctor's Match

Synopsis: The Administrator has decided to finally give Medic some much needed help on the battlefield, despite the male insisting he doesn't need it. But what happens when the Mad doctor finally meets his match?..

Pairing(s): Medic x 10th Class! Reader focused Pairing Name?: Medical Malpractice (Medic/The Nurse), Length: 3.4k words

A/n: GUYS GUYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY THISSSS, I was inspired by some of my fellow writers who are writing fanfics where they make the reader a specific class!! (Speaking of which I HIGHLY suggest the Respawn Malfunction Fic by the lovely the-teufort-nine)

"Ach, I don't really need help Miss Pauling, vhile I appreciate zhe thought—"

Medic was caught off by Miss Pauling's sheepish grin and hand raise. "I know I know, but think about it. You'll have help with surgeries, everyone wouldn't be screaming your name on the battlefield.. unless you like that—"

Medic tapped his glove to his chin. While he didn't necessarily need the help, it would be a great assistance to not have hear everyone screaming "MEDIC" on the battlefield. And to have someone who was on his level, that thought just like him when it came to medicine and other scientific discovering's?

It didn't sound that bad.

But then again, what if this person could be just as annoying as his teammates? What if they didn't help him out as he thought they would? He couldn't risk that!

However, on the flip side...what if they are perfect? They help him on the battles field, they help him with studies that he wanted to conduct. They might even let him experiment on THEM!

He hummed and sighed before dropping his hands to his side.

"Fine, Fine. I vill accept zhis..'help'."

"Good! Cause she'll be here tomorrow!"

Medic didn't have time to process what Miss Pauling had said because she left so quickly, rambling off about finishing finalization before their newest member gets there.

"She?.." Medic trailed off before he left his office to go and join the others in the dining area. Dinner was just being prepared when Scout called out to Medic.

"Ayyeee Doc! You heard about that newbie we getting? Hope he can keep up wit ya!" The rambunctious Boston yelled and Medic only rolled his eyes as he took a seat.

"I can only hope zhat SHE can deal vith the daily stupidity zhat I deal vith each day." Medic corrects Scout and that draws attention from some of the others.

"Oh? So our new help is going to be a Woman?..I pray for her." Spy muttered as he takes a drag from his cigarette. "Wonder what made zhe little lady chose here?"

"Don't kno', but it's best we treat her wit' respect fellas, she could be mighty useful round here when Medic is busy." Engineer chimed in. "Best to have two docs than one."

"Da, Engineer is right. Little lady can make big difference in life or death in battle. We treat her like we treat Doctor." Heavy adds on making Medic nod along.

"Zhere should be nothing to vorry about~, she'll be trained under zhe best!" "That makes me worry even more, I hope she's not a nutcase like you are-" "Vhat vas zhat Scout?" "Nothin'! Nothin' at all doc…"

Medic huffed as he fixed his labcoat. "Zhat's vhat I thought." He muttered before he walked back to his lab. When he walked in, he already saw a second door already installed in his medbay, kinda of similar to the one that led to his private quarters. But it had a different medical like logo. ‘Zhey work fast..” he thought as he decided to go into his room.

He needed to prepare for the new guest coming tomorrow

The mercs were all sitting together after another successful day of kicking BLU ass.

Scout, Soldier, Demoman and Pyro were sitting together, Spy and Sniper were playing cards, Engineer was moving around some things in the kitchen and Heavy was with Medic at a separate table.

Soft humming could be heard coming down the Hallway, along with a suitcase being dragged behind light footsteps. The click of heels against the hard floor of the base echoed, they didn’t really pay any attention to the sounds assuming it was Miss Pauling bringing something that they needed to go over.

That was until they heard the voice.

"Hello there fellas~!"

The guys all lifted their heads to see a woman, dressed in long nurses dress with a pretty white apron over it. She had a matching logo patch to Medic's with a syringe over the cross, she wore pink gloves that went up to her elbows, her hair was neatly tucked back into a low bun with the nurses hat on. She had a big smile on her face as she walked further into the room drawing all attention to her.

"My name is Y/n, and I will be your new nurse around these parts~! Now could someone please kindly tell me who is your head Medical specialist.?"

Scout rolled his eyes before he allowed a sly smirk to come across his face. "I wouldn't call him a professional toots…but he's ova there wit the large guy."

The woman, Who they now know is Y/n, thanks Scout with a pretty smile that had the young male blushing already but Spy knocked him in the back of the head.

“Oi! What the hell was that for??” “You’re making googoo eyes at zhe new hire.” “What? She’s cute! Ow! Seriously man! That hurts! “Zhen stop being such an idiot.”

Medic and Heavy were engrossed in a conversation when Y/n walks up next to them and starts to introduce herself.

“Hello! I was told that one of you was the doctor here, I’m going to guess it’s you sir..” She says pointing to medic. Medic looked her up and down and his heart felt like it was doing tricks already.

She was…beautiful.

She was everything that he had imagined in his head last night. Her beauty, her kindness, and Medic could already tell that a little something…unhinged lay right beneath the surface.

Heavy had to nudge the male because he was just staring at the beauty in front of him. Medic quickly cleared his throat before giving a grin to her.

“Ah yes! Zhat vould be me! I am guessing jou are zhe nurse, yes?” He finally managed to get out, making the woman infront of him giggle as she sits down across from him.

“Yes that’s me! I’ve heard such good this about you! I can’t wait to work alongside you in the field!”

Medic nodded as he leaned on his hand as he listened to her ramble on about how much she loved nursing and how her experience on the field was sure to lighten his load and help him the best way that she could.

As she continued to speak, Medic just nodded along and occasionally added to the conversation. He was so focused on her, he was imagining the two of them in battle together, covering in the enemy teams blood. He couldn’t wait to do the uber heart surgery on her so he could see and feel her from the inside out…

“Medic.”

Oh how beautiful she would look beside him.

“Medic?”

Oh how beautiful she would look underneath him—

“MEDIC”

Medic jumped as he shook his head, Heavy shook his head as he looked at his fellow merc. “You spaced out, Little nurse said she was going to bed.” Heavy states and Medic sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he apologized to Y/n.

“Oh no no! You’re fine! I know you’re probably tired after this long day..” “Ja..The battle was very…tough.” Medic quickly says, making her giggle. “Oh well I'm not going to stop you, please go and get some rest for tomorrow!”

Y/n then backed away from the two males as she bowed and gave them a gentle wave. "Goodnight fellas! Can't wait to be beside you on the battlefield!" She happily exclaimed before she turned on her heel and left the room finally.

Once she left the room, Heavy looked over at Medic. “Medic is infatuated with little nurse.”

Medic looked at his friend and colleague, rapidly shaking his head. “Vhat? No! She’s just…really..amazing I guess. It’s rare to see someone as interested in the pursuit of science as I am!” He quickly says as he looked away from Heavy, pulling at his collar.

Heavy only chuckles as he pats Medic on his back. “You are terrible liar.”

Was all he said before he left Medic at the table alone to think. And of course, his mind went to the beautiful nurse that just graced their presence. He HAD to get to know her better.

He couldn’t just let her get away with messing with his head like this!

He will do it tomorrow! He would get to know her after working alongside her for the first time! After all, He had to know why a lovely lady like herself would come and work here and let alone be excited to work with someone like him…

Oh Boy, Did he quickly realize why he was so drawn to her.

She. Was. Crazy.

Once the Nurse set foot on the battlefield, that adorable and charming personality that she displayed to the others at dinner the other day was quickly replaced by a wicked bloodlust.

She was taking down the enemy teams left and right, assisting their teammates with a scary accuracy.

And she was smiling while doing it.

Her main weapon? A large syringe, one that he witnessed her stab and spear the enemy team, harvesting their blood and using it almost as some sort of wicked power source. He could've sworn that hearts formed in his eyes as he looked upon her on the battlefield. She didn’t care that she was getting blood on her at all, the way that it splattered across her clothes and she wore it with excited glee.

He was so busy day dreaming that He wasn’t paying attention, leaving him open for a backstab from the enemy Spy when he heard her call out to him.

“DOCTOR BEHIND YOU!” Medic didn’t have time to turn around before he saw the enemy spy...with a syringe needle through his back.

He stood back watching as his body turned to goop, and was collected by the Nurse, seeing it go into her own medivac.

“Are you alright? I followed the bastard after he tried to backstab, Engineer.” Y/n said to him as she offered her hand, helping Medic from the ground.

She holds his hand for a little bit as she checks over him, making sure that he wasn’t injured at all. She places her hand on his chest, making Medic jolt as she did it so suddenly. “Are you alright? Your heart is beating quite fast..”

Medic coughs into his hand before he backs away, nodding at her question. “Ja, I’m okay..Guess my heart rate is up after almost being backstabbed…”

Y/n gave him an eyebrow rise before she accepted his answer.

“Alright..if you say so. Then, Let’s go Doctor. I can hear our teammates screaming for us now.” Y/n turns to leave, expecting Medic to follow.

And follow he did, intrigued as he watched as she pressed a button on her MediVac, watching as she placed her syringe into a slot, and watched as the blood started to bubble and boil, turning into a molten weapon.

Y/n looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a wink before she ran off to go and cater to their injured teammates. Leaving him once again, speechless. He could feel a shiver trail down his spine as a smile broke out across his face.

“Mein..Gott..she's perfect…” He mumbled to himself.

He watched as Y/n reached over to Scout, shooting him with a syringe, the Bostonian yelled in pain before feeling a surging feeling. He suddenly cheered and gave Y/n a high five before running back into battle. Healing syringes, he remembered her talking about it briefly the night before.

She was so giddy and excited to have someone to ramble about her work, that Medic stayed nearly all night with her despite knowing that they had to be up the next morning. But that didn’t matter, seeing her happy, talking about a subject that most would squirm and ignore was all he needed.

God...was he falling in love with his colleague?! She had only been here for a few days, yet the bubbly and giddy nurse had managed to worm her way into his heart in less than a week.

Never has someone made him so weak in the knees whenever they would look his way.

Mein gott was he embarassing—

“ Medic! I need you!” “Coming Mein Nurse!~”

Y/n giggles as she shows off to Medic. Her main weapon, the syringe was used to collect samples, blood samples of the enemy and turn that into boiling liquid, almost like scalding water, giving the enemy team a burning and scalding effect that worked perfectly alongside Pyro.

She had a syringe Gun as well, filled with different syringes of various effects, some that could heal her teammates, some That could burn and melt the enemy skin, it all depended on who she aimed it at, as he saw earlier with her little display on Scout.

“Ahh..could you believe i almost lost my medical License because of this technology, I guess they didn't like me testing on murderers..” She mentioned sparking Medic's interest.

“Vait, jou made this yourself?” He asked and she nodded proudly. “Mhm! Did all the research Myself, I was a bio-chem major before I turned to nursing.” Y/n answered. “Took me a couple months to perfect, nearly burned a hole through my lab floor.

The two of them were walking together and just talking About previous experiments and things that they have done.

“Wait, you stole a skeleton?” “Several actually, it's how I lost my medical license.” Y/n giggled at that, before reaching for his hand. “You know, I could use mine, if..you ever needed..help,”

Medic froze a bit, her hand felt small in his as he grasped her hand, the two of them ended up facing each other.

“Jou..vould do zhat? For me?” “Of course~, Ya know , it's not everyday when you find someone who's so persistent in the pursuit of science like you.” “Oh really now?” “Yes really! It’s the least I could do for making you listen to my rambling about needles for two hours.”

Medic couldn't stop the smile that spread to his lips. “Jou know, I could listen to you read zhe most boring book in zhe vorld and I vould never get tired. “

It was Y/n’s turn to blush as she felt his hand come up to caress her blood soaked cheek. “Oh Medic..you’re just saying that..”

Medic chuckles and he was about to speak again when a loud yell broke through.

“Oi! Doc! Need some Help ova here! Could you stop makin’ googoo eyes wit the nurse!?”

Oh right, they were still in battle.

“Ve'll continue zhis later.” “We shall.”

The two of them readied their gear again as Y/n grasped his hand tightly turning to him with a smirk.

“Let’s go practice Medicine~” She says to him and Medic feels like his body was just lit on fire by pyro as a wolfish grin appears on his face.

When they would reach the enemy team, Y/n would signal to Medic that she was ready and he would nod to her before he would turn on his uber charge. He had only done the surgery on her yesterday, and while he was excited to see how it would work on a new host…

He hoped that it wouldn’t harm her.

Once he activated it Y/n jolted a bit before she started that boiling mass of liquid in her backpack. Medic watched as it was almost like she was spraying hot oil onto the enemy, They moved through the enemy, mowing them down like they were nothing but bugs underneath their feet.

...God did she look like a glowing red goddess...

The entire time Y/n was…laughing, giggling as she used her weapon on the enemy. Giddy as she saw how their bodies basically melted into nothing but BLU goo. It sent a shiver up his spine when she turned to him and gave him that award winning smile with a wink

He watched as the rest of their team came in to help capture the final point, most of them careful to step over or around the various piles of goo around the point.

The Uber charge wore off and Y/n squealed with glee before she ran up to Medic and grabbed his shoulders. “Oh my GOD that was AMAZING!!” She screamed with delight, once again catching Medic off guard.

“Ach..it vas nothing, it vas most—” Medic didn’t get to finish his sentence before he felt himself being dipped, and a pair of lips being pressed against his own.

Medic turned a bright red as his glasses fogged up. He felt light headed and when she finally let him up, they were declared the winners as they had successfully claimed the last point. When he regained himself, Y/n was standing infront of him with a big smile on her face as if she didn’t just KISS HIM.

“Did jou just–” “Yes i did. Would you like me to do it again?”

Medic looked back as he saw his teammates already heading back in, talks of celebrating and what they were going to eat in the air. Medic chuckles as he lifted the nurse into his arms.

“Ja, I vould…but if forgive me if i’m greedy and vant more~”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to blush as Medic carried her back inside to continue their own little form of celebration for winning.

“Man, I don't know if it's a blessin’ or a curse we got that nurse!”

Scout groaned as he knocked back a bonk! Atomic Punch, Engineer, who was playing cards with Demo and Soldier, tilts his head.

“What makes ya say that boy? I think it's great the Doc has himself A lovely lady that can keep up with him.” He chuckles as he turned back to the card game, watching as Scout took a seat with them.

“That's the problem! They are both nuts! I overheard them talking about doing surgery on each otha’ to put their hearts in each otha's body! That's weird!”

“Well, Son, that might just be their form of love-” “Then i pray dat form of love neva finds me!"

Engineer laughs as Demoman pats His back. “Aye lad, are ya still mad that the doc almost let you die because he was flirtin’?

“No! I'm just sayin’! They are weird!” “He's definitely still upset!” “I agree with Engineer!” “Course ya do Soldier! You prolly don't even know what we're talking about!”

Y/n and Medic were definitely closer after that battle, they were wrapped around each other's fingers. Always around each other.

When they had mission debriefing, she was sitting in his lap.

When it was time for their checkups? They were definitely giving PDA.

Speaking of which, the duo walked past them heading to the door.

Scout groaned in frustration before he looked up seeing Medic walking with Y/n. “And where are yall headin’ Out to? Ain't dinner about to start?”

Y/n smiles as she hugs Medic's arm. “Luddy has prepared a picnic for us~! We're going outside to enjoy each other's company, and talk about medical stuff~”

Medic nuzzled her forehead. “Ja, mein liebling and i vill be busy for the rest of the night, so please don't have any medical emergencies, jou might not like what you walk into.”

The duo laughs together as Medic leads her outside, opening the door and closing it behind them, leaving their coworkers To go back to what they were doing.

“Ugh..disgusting!” “Sounds like you're jealous sonny.” “How!? Jealous of what?” “Affirmative! Sounds like you are jealous that he has a proud American woman!” “Is she even bloody american?” “Course she is! That woman is a pure blooded American soldier!”

The four men ended up bickering about this, while Heavy who was coming from the kitchen quickly interjected.

“Lets just be happy Doctor has met match.” He started. “Means no more experimenting on us when he has a willing participant. She is perfect for him. Just a crazy as doctor.”

The others went quiet and Scout, the main one who was making a fuss crossed his arms. “I guess tons of fun ova’ here is right.”

Heavy rolled his eyes at Scout before taking a seat. “Deal me in. Besides. Tomorrow is ceasefire. Doctor is gonna be busy with little nurse.”

“What do ya mean by dat?” “I think you know what I mean.” “You could've jus’ Left us in the dark with that info Son.” “if I had to suffer listening to doctor ramble about it, you do too.” "NONSENSE THEY ARE JUST DISCUSSING BATTLE STRATEGIES" "Yea if strategies included fucki- OW WHERE IN THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM YA SPOOK!?" "I've been here zhe entire time, could you all please just deal zhe cards and not talk about what our doctors are doing."

GAHHH FINALLYYY ITS DONNNEEE

I plan on writing more with them, so be prepared for more Medical Malpractice— but until then, please be safe and take care of yourselves!

#tf2 fandom #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 x reader #tf2 fanfic #team fortress 2 #tf2 #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 imagines #medic tf2 #tf2 medic #medic x reader #medic team fortress 2 #tf2 medic x reader

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nymphbnny · 10 months ago

Text

room 609

────── nanami kento

⤷ general.manager!nanami who can’t help but be seduced by your little receptionist fit and wit.

tw: age gap (20s ; 40s), kind of a slow burn to porn, masturbation (male), seductive touching,mating press, dirty talk, praise, doggy, slight riding, minor daddy kink, oral (fem) , fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, not read proof MDNI

pssst!! i missed you guys so much <3 i hope you enjoy this piece i’ve prepared for you. i’ll get to my inbox asks as soon as i can. love and kisses xoxo

“sir you booked your room b&b, which means your breakfast is included in the pricing of your room regardless if you have it or not. i can’t reimburse you.” you explained for the tenth time to the stubborn guest on the other side of the desk. you’ve already had a long day and were close to ending your shift until he came and disrupted your plans.

“is there a problem here?” he uttered, making both of your heads turn at him. nanami was standing by the reception, probably aware of the silly conflict thanks to the cameras he installed. it was a good thing that not only they showed him what was happening but he could also hear the entire discussion.

you looked down at your french nails, not saying a word as the client went out on his rant. haven’t you done that, you would’ve noticed how your superiors would casually gaze at you, unfazed by the ongoing monologue.

“how about that sir,” nanami spoke up, his eyes now fully fixated on the man. “let’s say i rented a room at your place, bed, and breakfast included, and you end up preparing one of the most exquisite breakfast only for me to reject your hospitality and ask you to pay me back that breakfast, disregarding all the care and effort you put to make me feel at home. how would that make you feel?”

silence. utter and complete awkward silence.

you were so stunned and yet nothing could match the man’s face. this was the first time you heard nanami use that tone, or even speak that much for that matter. you thought he was done until he proceeded: “you booked your room fully aware that you were paying for both the room and the breakfast. i hope there won’t be any further issues.” he adjusted the glasses on his face before stoically watching him pay his stay then check out. “hm if you can’t handle silly conflicts call me. i don’t need to be babysitting you 24/7.”

you couldn’t even reply or apologize as he turned around and left. it took you a minute to realize he undermined your skills and humiliated you. you clenched your teeth and furiously grabbed your bag. you were stomping so hard on the marble floor you were sure that the guests could hear you. “babysitting my ass,” you grunted.

you’ve been working as a receptionist for almost a year. you knew what you were doing but he always had to butt in and comment on everything you did. just to tick you. he clearly didn’t seem to care when your colleague answered a call in front of a guest and began cussing at her sister loudly. but you, whatever you'd do, there was always an aftermath about it with nanami. it wasn't like you were particularly fond of your job, it was only temporary.

you couldn’t say anything to him or complain to anyone about him since he was the general manager of the hotel but your patience was wearing thin and you were seriously considering quitting. nanami was an arrogant man. an attractive one, unfortunately. he could capture the attention of a room in seconds. always composed and well-groomed. god he smelled heavenly too. you could try to deny your tiny crush all you wanted but it was there. his praise meant a lot to you. when you first began working here, his compliments happened often, almost daily. whether it's how much of a 'fast learner you are', or how you're doing 'a good job'. you'd get high on them. having a general manager like nanami praise you was everything you needed to boost your self-esteem. however, the moment you got comfortable around him, throwing a few hand waves whenever you saw him passing by the lobby or even knocking on his door without calling his office first to check if he had time to see you, it was all gone and soon replaced with constant scolding.

you knew that nanami was a serious man. a workaholic. albeit he’d always find ways to slightly touch you, brush up against you, squeeze you into your desk to pass behind you with his hands on your hips to ‘grab some papers’ although he had copies. sometimes he’d even go as far as to reprimand you for unbuttoning the very first two buttons of your dress shirt, scolding you for showing a bad image of his hotel.

“so unprofessional,” he tutted. “this isn’t a brothel. you’re not supposed to seduce the guests.” he murmured as he fixed them for you. you were looking at him with doe eyes, your crush undeniable at that moment, your chest heavily moving as he was unbelievably close to you, his fingers lightly brushing your exposed skin. “i didn’t know that a few buttons could seduce someone.” you lowly replied, your tone lining with slyness and quip. nanami looked down at your chest one last time before humming, his phone ringing in his pocket.

nanami treatment for you was paradoxical. he got off teasing you. especially when you first came into his office to present yourself after your interview. you were wearing your black pencil skirt and loose tucked-in white shirt. as respectful as he was, he was still a man. he couldn't help his eyes that lingered on your exposed legs, up to your tight skirt and beautiful curves. he'd be lying if he didn't think about you spread on his desk, his cock buried inside you with his tie wrapped around your wrists, holding your tits together.

she is so receptive, he’d think. watching you work and obey. you were so obedient to his commands and wishes. made him wonder if you were receptive in bed too.

he saw you the next day going into the hr's office, nobara's, to receive your paycheck. his office wasn’t far and he always passed by each department to check if everything was intact. “thank you so much, oh also could i have tomorrow off?” you inquired as you got up, not sensing the presence of the tall blond man behind you.

“sure but i’d have to double check with mr- oh! there you are!” she shrieked as she saw nanami. you turned your head to catch him looking down at you. he was wearing a black shirt with black chinos. fuck me, you thought. if he didn’t call you out of your daze you’d probably have trailed too far down his body and gawked at his print.

“what do you need your off for? it’s the first of the month.” he deadpanned. truth be told it didn’t matter when you wanted to have your day off as long as your colleagues could cover your shift. moreover, he had no right to ask you why you needed your day off. it was personal and he was breaching your privacy.

“well, mr nanami,” a glimpse sparkled in his eyes at the pronunciation of his name. “i need to have a breath of fresh air. a change of environment.“ you said tilting your head a little to the side. you were holding the envelope between your fingers, waiting for his reply. “i guess if nabora granted you a day off then you should be good to go. have a nice day.”

nanami left to his office, nobara snickering behind you. you got pretty close with her throughout the year. you shared the same interests and often hung out together and tomorrow was going to be one of those days.

you’d go out to blow off some steam — get black-out drunk — and dance around like idiots. your team was amazing and you were so grateful nobara was so fun to be around. everyone was generally nice, well, almost everyone.

you’d go out every once a week. it was your thing. sometimes you’d go to each other's places and have a small gossip about some of your colleagues, sometimes you’d do both.

“god that was so nice,” nobara slurred out as you got to her apartment. your day off paid well. fresh salary got you pretty nails and a pretty meal before you went to the club and had a few shots. it was packed to the brim but you didn’t mind. it was a different atmosphere and you've been dying for some nightlife. you took off your short dress, and a few flashbacks of how you were grinding against the handsome man went through your mind.

if it weren’t for nobara pulling you away to do more shots, you’d probably have gone home with him. both of you were slurring your words, drunkenly spilling the hot gossip about every employee in the hotel.

“— and i told him that! he is just sooooo,” she trailed before proceeding, her hand on your thigh. “dumb!” she laughed, throwing her entire body back and collapsing on her bed. man, you loved work gossip. you were fully entertaining nobara, both of you in your silk pajamas.

you were slowly drifting away, your eyelids getting heavier until she dropped his name in the conversation, your body uncontrollably shooting up. “my my, don’t be so alarmed.” she snickered. “i thought you saw him at the club. i was calling you to come say hi but you were so busy grinding against that hot mess.” she nudged you with her elbow before falling back on her back.

pause. press pause now.

“nanami was there?” you could only mutter out. while you failed to spot him, he, on the other hand, most definitely saw you. your blood ran cold and you began overthinking. you knew he wasn’t your boss outside of your work environment, he couldn’t scold you. yet you kept on worrying.

“hey you good?” she asked worriedly, your face scrunching up. “god you act so weird every time i bring him up. almost as if you like him.” nobara giggled. your eyes widened. “i do not!” you almost yelled defensively.

she was quiet for a second, remembering your interactions with him. how he treated you differently than others. harsher and almost too controlling. as fun as nobara was, she was still one of the smartest people you ever worked with. she could smell it a mile away. you liked him.

“you’re drunk and making things up.” your voice softened up. “he’s so mean. i don’t get why he’s so harsh with me. and all the touching…” you trailed, the alcohol not helping you think clearly. you looked beside you to find nobara asleep, her snores gradually becoming stronger. you scoffed at your friend before grabbing your phone from your purse and rewatching the stories you posted.

you noticed a new name amongst your usual views, your brows furrowing in confusion.

nanamikento

nanami was on social media? and how did he find your account? you used a fake name. knowing you won't be hearing the end of it, you decided to sleep it off and gather all the energy you could need for tomorrow.

you didn't even have time to salute the night audit as the phone rang the second you stepped into the reception area. nanami. you internally sighed and mentally prepared yourself for what you might tell him as you made your way to his office. you knocked on his door and he lowly asked you to come in and have a seat on his leather couches. you take a seat in front of him and before he even has the chance to glance at you, your tongue lets loose. "mr. nanami i know you saw my Instagram stories last night however this is none of your concern and i don’t feel like i should be called in here to be scolded for doing something that isn’t hurtful to my work environment. i'm a highly professional and punctual employee and i strongly believe that i don't need to be hearing any more scolding coming from you."

while you felt empowered by your monologue, nanami didn't seem fazed at all. he glanced up at you when you started talking, not blinking once before deadpanning: "i frankly couldn't bother to care about what you do outside this hotel therefore your personal life is no bother to me. however what does bother me indeed," he said standing up before walking around his desk and towering over you, "is the way you just spoke to me."

god, he was so close you could feel his breath lingering on your lips. it was only natural for you to feel more embarrassed and humiliated about what happened. you gulped before looking up at him, your lips hesitant to move. "mr. nanami i apologize for my rude behavior. i sincerely do. i- i just, you always seem to want to scold me whatever i do and i thought that this time-"

"are you saying i have a poor sense of judgment and scold you because i want to?" his hands were now on each side of the couch, caging you in as he leaned further down. you leaned back, breath labored. he didn't look like it but he was enjoying every second.

she's so beautiful when she's all flustered and red. squeezing her thighs together and fiddling with her pretty nails from embarrassment and i haven't touched her yet. he didn't expect you to answer his question. he was just trying to get you all worked up.

he couldn't help but be mean to you. at first, you were just another e, employee to him. needy of his praise to rise through the ranks and become better and more efficient at their job. needing and thriving for motivational words to get the job done. but the more he spoke to you and watched you get warm around him, the less control he had over himself.

"mr. nanami i printed out all the vouchers you asked for and contacted the travel agency to confirm all the guests for tomorrow's wedding. oh, and i thought i'd ask room service to bring you your lunch here. i couldn't help but notice you didn't have time to sit with us at lunch today." you smiled at him, your hands interlocked as you stood in front of his desk. he grinned at you, grabbing the papers you gently put on his desk with your soft hands. "that's very kind of you y/n. i would've asked you to join me but as you can see i'm busy."

"oh yes, definitely mr. nanami i wouldn't want to bother you anyway. if you'll excuse me i need to go back to the lobby. goodbye." you turned on your heels and exited his office leaving him and his print that was clear as day.

"fhuck," he groaned as he stroked his throbbing cock, his hand leaning against his bathroom in a fist with his head down, eyes shut as he imagined you were sucking him instead. he'd always get worked up because of you. how small and innocent you looked. so kind, so mesmerizing. so fragile compared to him. "fucking hell y/n, mhm," his hand going faster, squeezing his swollen tip. "just like that pretty," he whimpered thinking about your lips wrapped around his tip kissing and teasing his slit before he came all over his hand. nanami breathed out, ashamed that a small interaction turned him into a raging teenage boy fucking his fist secretly in the bathroom. he knew he needed more, touch you, scold you, anything to get a reaction out of you.

"mr. nanami please don't fire me. you're right i poorly acted." your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he was glad it did or else you'd start by noticing the growing bulge in his dress pants.

he leaned back up and went back to his chair, discreetly fixing himself. "there's a group of guests coming at two in the afternoon, approximately sixty to seventy people. i need you to start working on the rooming list before they arrive to have a smooth check-in and make sure all the rooms are well cleaned." he fixed his glasses and looked at his laptop.

"but, wasn't the rooming list supposed to be done two weeks ago i don't understand." doing this on your own is suicide. it wasn't a small group. he's talking about sixty to seventy people. it's impossible.

"i called you hear for this reason. i need you to do it because unfortunately we just were recently notified due to lack of expertise and this group is going to stay over a few months, losing them would be idiotic." he muttered the last bit and kept on typing on his laptop. "you are dismissed. i trust you can get the work done."

your eyebrows arched up as your mind wondered if your ears were playing tricks on you or if he just said something nice. you decided to ignore it and go back to work. you had no time to waste and to your bad luck, today you were alone at the front desk.

"i’m actually so tired i cannot feel my fingers. i’ve been typing all day nonstop only to be rewarded with a small good job from nanami. like i literally cannot take his shit anymore, i told you what happened earlier in his office." you huffed. "i don’t understand why he acts this way with me! he’s so indifferent and i genuinely can't stand him." you dropped onto her bed lying back and looked up at the ceiling. she snickered and laughed next to you. she knows you're annoyed because of your silly crush. parts of you wanted him to be jealous of that guy you were rubbing yourself on. god knows he was.

"well," she paused as she sat next to you. "you’re gonna have to tolerate him tonight babes because we are seeing him outside of work. now before you start talking again," she exclaimed silencing you with a finger against your lips and making you pout. "we all had a tiring day today and we know we’re going to be quite busy and overwhelmed for the next few months to come so the owner decided to give some of us, well the hard workers, access to one of his private members' club to blow off some steam and award us for the general good job we’ve been doing. anyway, nanami is gonna be there so i want you to get over the crush you have on him and no don't deny it because the sooner we can get ready the better."

you glare at her. nobara was right but you were a stubborn person. "absolutely not". you interject as you stand up and throw your phone on the bed. "i am not going out to party with a man who constantly insults me. i refuse to go out with a man who looks down on me for no reason and have to pretend to enjoy my time tonight around him just so he doesn’t have any smart retort to say to me. i want to dress up however i want, i want to dance, i want to drink and I want to get black-out drunk and not have anyone reprimand me or scold me for my behavior and i’m not going to be able to do that if he’s going to be there." you put your hands on your waist and sighed when you caught nobara holding her laughter with pursed lips.

"nobara i can see that you’re going to burst." she starts laughing and falls back on her back. "oh man, i didn't know you cared about nanami kento that much. lord," she kept on laughing, her mouth wide open and arms holding her stomach. "girl fuck you." you blushed. "i'm not going and that's final." you rolled your eyes, and sat on her couch.

this was starting to become very frustrating.

"this place is amazing!" nobara yelled in your ear as you walked into the club. you ended up caving in. although you had your stand on the situation, you still wanted to see him. you wanted to look at him. you were curious to know if he dressed differently outside of work or if he acted differently. you were feeling pretty confident. you looked stunning. a black dress that wrapped beautifully around your body and matching black, red bottom heels.

his eyes landed on you the second you stepped through the door. he was sitting on one of the couches where the other invitees were, swirling his bourbon in his hand. once he noticed nobara spotting him, he stood up, downing his drink in one swing, and adjusted his clothes.

you locked eyes with him, your heart dropping instantly. he was wearing a black shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and casual pants that fit him just perfectly and tonight he wasn't wearing his glasses. he is so handsome, you thought to yourself. nobara walked up to him first, hugging him casually as if he wasn't her superior.

you, on the other hand, were too shy to do so as well. instead, you extended your hand, only for him to catch it and pull you to his chest, arm wrapping around your waist tightly while his other arm was wrapped around your shoulders to rest his hand on your head, keeping you in place. your heart was beating so fast you could hear it beat louder than the music around you.

you closed your eyes, taking into his smell as your arms unconsciously found their way around his back, the pads of your fingers lingering on the muscles. "you smell good," he whispered in your ear, your skin burning at his compliment. "you look stunning as well," he added before letting you go of his embrace, your heart sinking at the loss of his touch. "thank you, you look good yourself." you said, the tips of your ears red. you were going to explode.

and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, you saw him smile at you. a genuine ass smile. did he have too much to drink? you couldn't6 think about anything else to say as your hand was abruptly taken by nobara to drag you to the bar to do shots.

you glanced at him one last time before your view was hidden by the people in the crowd.

"i'm so fucking hammered!" nobara exclaimed while the others cheered with her, doing more shots. everyone looked so drunk. you didn't let yourself drink too much. you couldn't afford to be drunk and forget about what happened with nanami or worse, act like a drunk in front of him. that couldn't happen. you had to stay composed.

"let's dance! come on y/n show them!" nobara cheered while you shook your head, everyone else encouraging you. "come on we're all gonna dance." another coworker said.

you were dragged to the dancefloor and decided to just enjoy it. at the end of the day, you were here to blow off some steam and this is what you were about to do. you danced and swayed your hips to the music, laughing at nobara's weird dance moves. it's the first time you realize how ridiculous she looks drunk dancing.

hands on your waist made you jump, your hands over them, eager to get them off you. "it's me," nanami reassured you in your ear. you looked around only to find out that it was really him, hands on your waist, moving with you to the music, your back pressed firmly against him. your ass rubbed against him while you moved, only making him hold you tighter. "mr nanami, i don't think this is appropriate." you try to say, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea.

"they're all drunk," he turned you around, his hands dropping to your hips. "you don't mind dancing with a stranger but you do so with me?" he cocked his eyebrow, his face turning as he looked down at you.

part of you was giddy about it. so it did bother him.

"i thought you didn't care mr nanami-"

"kento." he deadpanned. "call me kento."

"kento..." you muttered, your eyes softening at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck only to drop them at his shoulders. you wanted to touch him all over.

"i lied. it enraged me. i felt jealous, i wanted to be the one to touch you like he did, better than he did." you felt dizzy. you were a smart girl though. it slowly started making sense to you. the bullying, the accidental touching. all of it.

"you want to touch me kento?" you reached to his ear to whisper, kissing his ear before tugging at his lobe. you dragged his hand down your ass, urging him to touch you. you could hear him hiss, his hand now gripping your ass. "hm." he hummed feeling the plump of your ass.

the music was so loud and everyone was acting promiscuously drunk around you. no one seemed to notice how gentle nanami’s touch was on you despite the atmosphere that would invite to a harsher and more sexual kind of touching. he was allowing his hand to go over your curves, giving himself permission to drag his fingers underneath the curve of your ass, up your hips and waist to finally caress your cleavage.

as much as he’s been dreaming about ripping off your clothes and taking you on his desk, he couldn’t bring himself to be rough with you.

you looked so beautiful so gentle. “kento?” your voice drove his eyes back to yours. “so gorgeous,” he put his hand on your cheek. “so soft,” your skin was on fire. you felt your goosebumps rise as his thumb worked his way to separate your lips.

“take me to your place.” your boldness taking him by surprise. you wrapped your hand around his bicep, pressing yourself further into him.

“i can’t, it’s not appropriate.” nanami coughed, still holding you against him, not truly convinced by his own statement.

you looked at the blond male with doe eyes, tilting your head. pushing yourself up on the tip of your toes you gave his neck a small kiss, feeling his body tense up as you did so. “please,” you begged against his skin. “please kento,” you kept on giving his skin kitten kisses, his fingers almost digging into your skin.

he looked down at your pleading eyes, then down to your cleavage that was pressing against him. “the things you do to me,”

“what things?” you whisper, your lips almost touching his. you were feeling a bit more courageous now that you’ve discovered that your crush was clearly reciprocated. “don’t you wanna show me?” you finger trailed down his chest to his pants before poking his print. he choked in some air, quickly having a sense of alert as he skimmed his surroundings, not wanting anybody to start any gossip.

“they’re all drunk nanami, it’s just you and me,” you reached out to his face, turning him so he could face you again.

without any second thought, he wrapped his big hand around yours and dragged you out of the crowded dance floor towards the exit. you couldn’t help but bite down on your smile, watching how his back muscles flexed as he made his way through the dancing bodies, carefully ever checking that you were still following him although he had your hand secured in his.

once you were outside, he asked the valet to bring up his car. his hand on your thigh the whole ride, giving you small caresses of reassurance. you couldn’t help but take notice of his tenderness, how handsome his looked while driving. you wondered if he looked that good being on top of you as well.

and he was.

“kento~” you whimpered, your legs resting on his shoulders as he bullied his fat cock inside you. you’d try to move around, get more, feel more.

“be my good girl and let daddy take care of you.” he rolled his hips into you, your warmth and wetness coating him. the nickname he had given himself already making you all wobbly.

you nodded, your eyebrows furrowed as he thrusted at an unbelievably slow aching pace, giving you long and deep stroke against your walls. “if only you knew,” he grunted, pulling back before pushing back in all that once, earning a small yelp from your beautifully parted lips. “how much i’ve been wanting to fold you like this.” nanami rested his forehead against yours, his lips capturing yours.

you moaned against his lips, your fingernails tracing shapes on his muscled back as he picked his pace up. nanami’s kisses were hungry, a real evidence of his earlier statement. he’s been wanting this for so long. “kento, you feel so good inside me,” you murmured through his lips, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer.

your words made him tremble, his hips slamming faster against your thighs. “i never want to get out, god i want to fill you up so badly,” he stated almost in a weak whimper. you rocked your hips with him, trying to meet him at each move. but he was unpredictable.

flipping you around and arching your back, getting a full view of your ass and swollen cunt. “so messy,” he dragged his finger across your folds making you shiver, before pushing his finger in. you moaned out, your hand reaching to hold onto the headboard.

he was having fun with you now, pushing his finger at first then adding another, before removing them both to rub on your abused clit only to stop before your climax to finger you again.

“kento please,” you whimpered trying to move yourself back and get some friction from his dick but he tutted, removing your hand away. “you’re my good girl remember? my good girl always does what she’s told isn’t that right?” he inquired, rubbing his swollen tip against your entrance.

you nodded against his scented pillow, submissively putting both hands behing your back, showing your surrender to him. “that’s it, such a good fucking girl,” he muttered, his length pushing against your folds again, this time a tad harsher accompanied with a spank on your cheeks. “so good darling, so good,”

his nicknames got you high. his praise got you high. your hips were thrown back, almost as if you were managing his thrusts. he let you, watching how you would roll your hips and guide yourself through your orgasm.

“kento…” you whimpered, tears filling your eyes as you creamed over his girth. “come for daddy sweetheart that’s it,” he encouraged you, wrapping his hand around you to toy with your clit, sending you over the edge.

“so messy,” he chuckled watching you lose control over him. nanami pulled out and before you could complain he was down on his knees and eating your cum that was leaking from your abused hole. “oh my god, fhuck yes daddy,” you rode his face, enjoying the feeling of his tongue scooping your cum, his hands firmly gripping your ass to pull your cheeks apart.

you felt yourself overstimulated, ready for another orgasm. he could feel it too by the way your thighs were jiggling.

using his middle and ring finger, nanami spread you again, curling them inside your walls to rub your spot. you were such a mess. creaming on his fingers and blabbering on his pillow.

“you’re so sensitive, i love it,” he smirked, giving your ass a small bite before licking off your cum from his fingers.

you felt his weight lie next to you, rolling your body over. “are you okay?” he carefully pushed the hair away from your face. you nodded with a smile. once you realized he was done it quickly faded.

“you haven’t came yet.” you held his arm. he chuckled. “but you did. plus you seem tired i don’t want to push myself.” he sheepishly said.

you shook your head refusing. “no,” you got up and straddled him, lining his dick to your entrance before fully sitting on him.

“holy fuck what are you doing?” nanami asked you, watching you wrap your arms around him. “gonna make you come inside me,” you sultry answered, to which he held your hips with his hands, guiding your bouncing body. his lips parted to the way your eyes rolled back. you looked so fucked out it was mesmerizing.

you tits bouncing up and down with the motions of your body followed by yelps of his name.

“come inside me daddy,” you mewled in his ear, holding onto his shoulders. you could feel him groan as he began to fuck himself up into you, soon unloading his balls inside you.

you felt dizzy to the feeling of his warm seed, grinding yourself on him to make sure to receive it all.

you rested your face in the crook of his neck before letting out a small laughter. “never thought you’d be such a dirty man mr. nanami,”

he only laughed in return. “and you haven’t even seen the beginning of it.”

#dilf nanami #nanami kento smut #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami imagine #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #kento x you #kento smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut

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chantersboard · 2 months ago

Text

Spackle

2.5K. super!Joel x f!reader. Joel is your building's hot super and he helps put in your air conditioner on a hot NYC day.

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, no outbreak AU, unprotected piv, creampie, Joel is punny

a/n: I hate that I had to youtube how to install an air conditioner for this because I had my own super put mine in lol. I also got the plant thing from my super. he was really interested in my dragon scale when he caught me bringing it home.

EDIT: thought I should give a quick definition of a super to those that may not know. A superintendent, or more commonly known as a super, is the property manager for an apartment. They often live on-site, or if your landlord owns multiple buildings, usually in a nearby building. They deal with the structure, safety, and cleanliness of the building. If your toilet is clogged you call the super. If you locked yourself out of your apartment you call the super. Supers will also do things like shovel snow, clean shared areas, bring out the garbage for sanitation, and minor adjustments to your apartment such as patching holes and replacing damaged floorboards.

as always you can see #chantersboardwritessometimes for other stuff I've written

Spackle

With labored breath you take the final step to reach the fifth floor. Sweat beads down your face as you haul a load of groceries to your door. You place the bags down and fumble in your pocket for your keys.

This summer in New York City has been brutal. The temperature is oppressive and the humidity is stifling. In the short walk from the grocery store to your apartment, your thin, breathable top was already sticking to your skin. You needed to cool down but there would be no reprieve, even after you entered your home. While you had purchased a brand new air conditioner, the building’s management still hadn’t answered your email about assistance getting it installed.

Just as you push your key into the lock and twist the core, your neighbor’s door swings open.

“Thank you again, Joel.” You hear the old woman say.

“Of course, Mrs. Nunez,” Joel says.

The building’s superintendent, Joel Miller, walks out of the old lady’s apartment. He’s an older man, tall with broad shoulders and toned arms. The hair on his sparse beard is sprinkled with gray, much like the thick hair that curls around his ears. He’s a little rounded about his midsection, but it doesn’t distract from how undeniably handsome he is.

“Anytime you need help again just call management.” His voice floats through the air. The southern accent that turns his words into music is out of place in this fast paced city.

As you push open your door you turn to look at him. His short sleeve navy blue shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a clean white tank top underneath. His jeans sit nicely on his hips, the knees of them the only dirty thing about him, other than his scuffed and paint splattered boots. He juggles his tool bag between his hands and the muscles in his forearms tense and loosen.

On more than one occasion you have wondered what those arms feel like. A grown man like him, working with his hands all day, carrying around that heavy tool bag. You imagine your hands sliding up his arms, squeezing the muscles along the way before landing on his chest that bursts through his tank.

You swallow hard, excusing your fantasy on the maddening heat, and wave at the super.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Orchid,” he walks across the hall, bringing the scent of cedar with him. Joel very well knows your name but has called you Orchid since he saw you bringing home the flowered plant when you first moved in. You were so gobsmacked at the idea of him giving you a nickname that you let it stick.

“Good afternoon, Joel,” you say, your eyes trained on his lips curled into an easy smile. Snap out of it! “I was wondering if management spoke to you about my air conditioner?”

Joel’s features twist in confusion. “I don’t think so, lemme check.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it for a while. “Nope. I only have a work order here for Mrs. Nunez.”

“Oh,” you say dejectedly. “I emailed them late on Thursday but I guess with Friday and then the weekend they didn’t see it.”

“What’s a’matter, Orchid?” The concern he displays makes you melt even more in the heat.

“I normally wouldn’t bother you like this but it’s just so hot.” Joel really looks at you then, taking in the way your shirt clings to your curves then looking at the length of your legs in the littlest pair of shorts you could find. You swallow hard again. “I have the support bracket and everything but I didn’t want to put it in wrong or something. I would rather someone who knew better put it in me—for me!—put it in for me, I mean,” you stammer.

Joel chuckles, the joy in his eyes making him even more attractive. “Well we can’t have a pretty lady like you suffer in this heat. I’ll put it in for ya.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank you so, so much Joel.” You bend to grab your groceries off the floor and notice Joel watches as you do so. The thought of him looking at your behind makes you pulse between your legs. You shuffle inside, head straight for the kitchen, and begin loading the cold things into the fridge.

“Everything’s there in the living room,” you yell across the apartment. “I’ll be there in a bit. I don’t want these popsicles to melt. Can you put it in that first window?”

You hear Joel moving stuff about, probably pulling the AC out of its box, then you hear the window scraping open.

“Yeah, this window’ll do just fine.”

As you continue unloading your groceries you can hear more movement, than the whirr of Joel’s power drill. Once the last item is neatly tucked away you yell out into the other room again.

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Soda? Corona?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You come out of the kitchen with a popsicle in hand. Joel is bent over, part of his body hanging out the window as he installs the support bracket for the air conditioner. Now it’s your turn to look at his behind. He comes back in and lowers to pick up the AC off the floor. You make no attempt to hide that you’ve been watching him.

“What about a popsicle?” You ask, dangling the wrapped frozen treat in the air.

“No, you go ahead and enjoy that, sweetheart,” he drawls.

You shrug, rip open the package, and bring the red, white, and blue dessert to your lips. The cold sensation immediately washes over you. You close your eyes and welcome the relief. You push the popsicle further into your mouth and moan as the cold syrup slides down your throat. When you open your eyes again Joel is still there, squatting over the air conditioner, looking up at you.

“That good, huh?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have one of ‘em after I finish?”

You pull the popsicle out of your mouth with an audible pop and lick your lips. “Yeah, sure.”

The super continues his work. He lifts the heavy machine with ease and pushes it into the open window. You walk over to him and watch as he lowers the window and begins drilling screws into the frame. He opens the fins on either side of the device then screws those into place as well. The whole ordeal doesn’t take long at all with Joel's swift, knowledgeable hands. He takes the dangling power cord and pushes it into the wall socket.

“Ready to try it?” He asks, his large index finger hovering over the power button. “Come close, now.”

You walk over to Joel and press yourself close to him so you’re both in front of the window unit. “Go ahead,” you say, pushing the popsicle back into your mouth.

Joel pushes the button and the machine rattles on. For a brief moment it pushes out horribly hot air but then the temperature drops and it hums as it pushes out a steady stream of cool air.

“Aww, yessss,” you mumble around the popsicle. In your happiness your mouth opens and some of the melted dessert dribbles out.

“You’ve got—” Joel’s finger brushes up your chin, catching the sugary liquid “—popsicle on ya.”

You look up at him and see desire in his eyes. The image makes your pussy throb. Before Joel can pull his hand away you grab his wrist and wrap your lips around his sticky digit. You swirl your tongue around his thick finger then begin to suck on it.

His free hand comes to your waist and he pulls you close. Your breasts press against him, your nipples beginning to harden as you continue sucking his finger. Joel lets loose a deep moan. The vibration goes through you and ends at the wetness that has started pooling in your panties. You release his finger as you did the popsicle, the loud pop rings through the room.

Joel licks his lips as he looks at yours. “Is there anything else I can fix ‘round here?”

A playful grin spreads across your face and you pull on his hand, leading him out of the living room. You discard your popsicle on the coffee table as you pass it and lead him into your bedroom.

“There’s this hole—” you say, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you remove your shirt. You lean back onto one of your elbows and spread your legs wide. Joel’s eyes immediately snap to where you rub yourself through your shorts. His own hand feels against the tent growing in his jeans. “—that I’m hoping you can fill.”

Joel smirks, his hard cock pushes against the confines of his jeans. “I might have the right tool,” he says as he undoes the buckle on his pants. He lowers his jeans along with his boxers to his knees, freeing his massive cock. “I would have to see the hole first.”

Your eyes are wide in amazement at the size of him. Joel is large and thick. You watch him wrap his fingers around his dick and lazily stroke himself. His large head bobs with each stroke, the slit at the end already pearling with precum.

You kick off your shoes and lift your behind off the bed to remove your panties and shorts all at once. You spread your legs wide again and run your fingers through your pussy lips. You’re so aroused there’s an audible wet noise when you spread your lips to show Joel the hole of your waiting cunt.

Joel tuts and steps between your legs. He presses against your chest with the flat of his hand and forces you to lay down. With his cock in hand, he swipes along your slit, spreading your slick juices over himself. When he speaks his voice is dark.

“Beautiful fucking flower my Orchid has.” He rubs his head against your clit and you gasp as the pleasure spikes across your body. “Is it as sweet on the inside as it looks on the outside?”

He lowers his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of you. Your legs begin to shake as his thick head spears into you. Deeper and deeper he goes. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes into you, going slowly to give your body time to accommodate the unbelievable size of his unit. He pauses once he’s fully inside and you can see the need twisted in his face.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweetheart,” he says, pulling out the tiniest bit and pushing back in. “I know it’s big but you’re taking it so well right now.”

You look up in complete awe of him, having no control over the way your pussy squeezes around him. He lowers a thumb to your bud and rubs gently, causing you to throw your head back with a long groan. He slowly pulls halfway out of you, then slides back in.

He goes a while like this, rubbing your clit tantalizingly slow, and softly pumping in and out of you until he’s able to pull almost completely out then back in with ease.

Joel picks up the pace as your body relaxes, yet he’s still incredibly large and your tight ring pulses around him. His hips rut faster as his thumb moves quicker. He wants to fuck into you with everything he has. Thrust. He wants your release on his shaft. Thrust. He wants his dick to destroy you. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

“Oh my god, Joel!”

A growl rumbles in his chest. “Yes, Orchid. I think I have the right tool for this hole.” He’s moving faster now. Harder now. He splits you in two over and over again as his giant cock rams into your soaking wet hole. “It needs some drilling!”

Joel completely lets himself go then. Snapping his hips, driving his member in and out of you as his thumb still circles your clit mercilessly. You cry out, pleasure wracking every fiber of you. It’s a lot to take in, the size of him, the mind melting thrusts, the constant pressure on your clit. You’re moaning his name over and over again as the headboard rocks against the wall. You are dizzy with desire and you feel an orgasm is soon approaching.

Joel removes his finger from your clit and swipes it against his tongue. He savors the taste of you and licks his lips. “You’re fucking sweet, Orchid. You know that? Ya gotta pretty and tasty pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you cream on my cock for me? You’re so sweet and tight I won’t last much longer.”

His large hands push on the back of your thighs, folding your legs against you. The subtle change in position allows him to stroke even deeper inside you and his large head now hits against that sweet spot that has you grabbing the sheet underneath you.

“Jesus, Joel,” you gasp as he continues to ram into you. The wet sound of your pussy mingles with Joel’s moans of pleasure, the melody of your sex creating a heady mix that has the building pressure in your core creep closer and closer to climax.

“Yes, just like that, Orchid, my sweet fucking flower.” His fingers dig into your thighs and his tempo begins to falter. He’s dangerously close to finishing. “Come for me baby. Come on my cock.”

With a guttural groan your pleasure peaks, the pressure in your core snaps and your orgasm finally washes over you. Joel continues to ram into you, each deep drag of his dick sending more waves of bliss across every inch of your body.

With a few more thrusts, he follows you. His hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you tight against him as his cock twitches inside you. His spend releases deep inside you, coating your walls as he moans between deep gasps of air.

When his cock has finally stopped twitching, he slowly pulls out of you then lowers close to your cunt. He watches the mixture of your release spill out of you before he scoops it in his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

“Gotta make sure this hole stays filled, Orchid.” Two of his thick fingers slip into you and your sensitive hole tightens around his fingers. “Unless…” he pulls his fingers out and smears the slick along your slit. “You want me to come back another time and try filling it again?”

You peer at him between your legs, still swiping up your slit trying to keep your hole filled. “I might need regular visits,” you innocently say, squeezing your core and forcing some of the come out of you. “This hole just won’t stay filled!”

Joel grins as he continues to play between your lips. “I can’t have you go complainin’ to management that I’m a bad super, now. Give me a call, day or night, and I’ll come and fill that hole again. I’ll fill that hole everyday if that’s what it’ll take.”

You smile at the prospect of getting drilled then filled by your super on a daily basis. “Yes, Joel. I can make that work.”

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