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antifictionsfiction · 2 years

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Worth the Free Admission - Part 2/5

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4

Fandom: Children’s Theater Critic with Alfred Molina

Pairing: Arthur H. Cartwright x gn!reader

Rating: T

Chapter summary: Cartwright takes you up on your offer and shows up to a rehearsal. For some reason he seems significantly less self-assured than when you first met him.

Warnings/tags: age difference, insecurity, mutual pining

Chapter word count: 1644

A/N: Once again, major thanks to my friend B. (@scorsesedepalmafan ) for support and creating and providing the lovely gif! ❤ And a special shout-out to my friend Anna (@castanierprosper ) 😊

Even after persuading yourself over and over that you wouldn’t take Cartwright’s upcoming visit into account when preparing for the class, your notebook was overflowing with detailed notes. Your planning seemed to cover every minute of the usual two-hour class and then some. Even as you were waiting for Cartwright to arrive in the rehearsal room, you were speed-reading through all twenty pages – again. You were sitting on the edge of the small stage at the far end of the room, surrounded by scattered papers, pencils and paper clips. You had some cleaning up to do before the kids came and made an even bigger mess of your own chaos.

A knock on the door – far too polite to signal Cartwright’s arrival to you right away – finally drew your attention away from the notes. Just as you invited the interrupter in, the door flew open, apparently by accident. The large man you would recognize anywhere now took a leap and reached for it to prevent it from slamming into the wall. With Cartwright’s long limbs coming into play, the whole situation looked exceptionally comical. As if to complete the gag, Cartwright then proceeded to adjust his glasses that had gone askew with his sudden movement, and blurted out an apologetic greeting. You observed he had remembered not only your last name, but also the first. And you had thought you were the only one who had set out to impress today.

“Mr. Cartwright, a pleasure to see you again,” you got up from the stage and walked up to him with an extended hand ready to shake. You were yet to decide whether your words were just a pleasantry or not. Cartwright, on the other hand, appeared genuinely pleased, once he got over the shock of his own entrance.

“I am not interrupting your work, am I?” he asked, pointing to the open notebook and pages of your latest script spread across the stage.

“Well, you are about thirty minutes early,” you chuckled. Of course ‘on time’ meant ‘unnecessarily early’ in his language. Well, at least you didn’t have to clean up all on your own, “But no. I was just going over my notes for today’s class.”

“Ah, I see you do take advice. May I take a look?”

You ignored the condescending subtext of his remark, knowing there would be many other opportunities to get defensive later. Instead, you led him over to your makeshift working space and handed him the notebook after checking it was open on the right page, vary of the more personal nature of some of the entries. Cartwright flipped through the pages, with a satisfied nod or a hum every now and then.

“Yes, this is very good. I have to say I’m impressed by your planning skills. Of course, my guess would be your lesson plans work significantly better on paper than in practice, much like your play. But we can build on this.” He handed you the notebook back, looking at you with certain expectation. Was this a compliment? Was it constructive criticism? Was it just criticism? What you knew for sure was that it was a prompt for you to take charge of your own goddamn work.

“Right. First we need to get the space ready for rehearsing. I’d really appreciate your help, can you bring out those boxes over there, please?” you directed him towards a tall shelf rack with a couple of boxes placed on the top shelf, well out of your reach. Cartwright didn’t even need a chair. You were almost beginning to believe inviting him here was a smart idea.

---

Cartwright had responded to your offer to join the kids in the warmups with a resolute ‘no’, and now he was occupying your favorite chair while you were physically engaging in the exercises. You had underestimated his ability to comment even on the most basic of warmups, but here he was virtually dissecting six-year-old Andy’s take on a walk through the forest.

“Are you wearing shoes? Are the soles of your socks made of steel? If you are walking barefoot, where’s the discomfort? Where’s the pain? You need to make a creative choice and follow it with an action!” The boy had slowed down, walking in a circle in uncertain wobbly steps, trying to follow instructions he couldn’t decipher. You gave Cartwright a quick ‘let me take care of it’ look and took over again.

“The forest floor is full of rocks, crunchy leaves and protruding roots, how does it feel? Is it easy to walk on?” you asked.

“No!” the kids echoed.

“Well, then maybe making careful steps and rising your knees higher will help,” you suggested and observed the focus in the kids’ faces as they took more deliberate steps, some of them even going as far as wincing in pain from stepping on a particularly sharp imaginary rock or root. You praised them all, and even Cartwright seemed satisfied with the progress - not that it was his accomplishment, even if he most likely thought otherwise.

At first you found it quite easy to deflect his pompous input just by overlooking it and carrying on the way you usually would. However, coming into the second half of the class, you could tell he was getting restless. Something about the way he hunched in the chair sent an image of a big, neglected dog into your brain and suddenly you almost felt guilty for ignoring him.

“Mr. Cartwright, are you sure you don’t want to join us? We’re going to move onto some improv skits now, it would be wonderful if you could contribute with some ideas,” you offered him your hand with a smile. He gaped at you in disbelief for a few seconds before getting his words out.

“No! I couldn’t- I can give you my thoughts on the performance, I- I’m not an expert-“ You cut him off mid-sentence, by leaning in a little and lowering your voice.

“Mr. Cartwright, they’re children, remember? They’ll eat up any crazy idea they hear, especially if it’s coming from me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they love yours, too. Alright?”

“Alright,” he gave a sheepish nod, taking your hand and following you to the stage.

God, his hand was so comfortingly large and warm, heating up your own – and you couldn’t explain where that thought had come from for the life of you. You quickly dropped said hand to avoid the possibility of any further thoughts of this kind emerging. You cleared your throat both to get the kids’ attention and end the moment of odd tension you had accidentally created. If you had the courage to sneak a look at Cartwright, you would see the rather prominent blush spread all the way up to where the rim of his glasses rested on his cheekbones.

“Do we have to play with him?” asked Ollie, pointing at Cartwright. It was an innocent and understandable question, given Ollie’s experience. But it didn’t exactly work in favor of your pursuit of peace. You could feel the critic tense behind you without needing to look at him. You hoped the other kids wouldn’t join in, because the idea of defending Cartwright against a gang of annoyed children somehow terrified you more than defending the kids against Cartwright had.

“Ollie, come here for a minute,” you pulled him towards you and Cartwright and stepped away from the stage to get a shadow of privacy. Humiliating the boy in front of the rest of the class would never be on the menu again.

“I know you didn’t mean it, but what you just said didn’t make Mr. Cartwright feel great. Is that right Mr. Cartwright?” you raised your brows, signaling to Cartwright to clarify his feelings. He didn’t.

“I erm-“

“But he was so mean to me and he hates how I play,” sniffled Ollie. So he had taken something from Cartwright’s critique after all, something you would have to tackle in the future.

“He doesn’t hate your acting, Ollie. I think you both said ugly things to each other, but you can still be friends if you apologize to each other, hm? Mr. Cartwright?”

Although Cartwright had taken off his specs, there was a glassy shine to his eyes, not nearly as though he was on the verge of tears, but something was going on inside his head.

“Yes, I apologize, dear boy. Despite the obvious shortcomings of your perform-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence again as you jabbed your elbow into his side with enough force to throw him off. He shot you an alarmed glance but got the point of your little message.

“I apologize, Ollie,” he corrected himself. You touched Ollie’s upper back, urging him to take his turn apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the ground.

“Call me Arthur.” Cartwright smiled and grasped Ollie’s tiny hand in his massive one, “Everyone, you can call me Arthur,” he called out to the class, obviously having taken note that the class called you by your first name too. The kids all started giggling and shouting Cartwright’s name like a mantra, all while pulling him into the midst of their miniature crowd. Cartwright’s attempts to free himself from their clutches fell flat, but you could tell he wasn’t using even a snippet of his true strength. Above all, he appeared to be relieved by the sudden change in their attitude towards him.

“Alright, release Arthur so that he can help you come up with new characters for this little story we’ll be playing!”

Your order was met with ten excited yesses and squeals and the kids plopped down onto the stage, waiting for further instructions from you. You and Cartwright joined them on the ground, and before you went on to explain the next task, you noticed him watching you with a slight grateful smile.

#arthur h. cartwright x reader #worth the free admission #alfred molina x reader #alfred molina fanfiction #arthur h cartwright x reader #alfred molina #funny or die #gender neutral reader #rated t

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chrism02 · 2 years

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Will we have fanfic today? 👀 (I'm obsessed with your stories)

“I'm obsessed with your stories” – That was my aim, to make people obsessed with them 😈 Glad you like them 😘

Unfortunately, I won’t post a new fic this weekend because I didn’t finish any stories. My mind is all over the place and the result is several WIPs 😅

Most likely I’ll post on Monday. Until then, I wish you a wonderful day 🤗

#ask #fanfiction #alfred molina #alfred molina fanfiction

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illiana-mystery · 14 days

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Here's a little something for my mutual @fabuloussisterofsin. Happy Reading!

Cycle of Care

Plot: After another long day in the OBGYN unit of Chelsea General Hospital (he's a gynecologist in this fic), Harding arrives home expecting his usual greeting from his beloved girlfriend and the smell of dinner welcoming him in. However, tonight, he receives neither usual welcoming gestures. Confused, he goes upstairs to investigate to find his dear love sick and weak in their bathroom. So he takes it upon himself to take care of her and make her feel better after her own long day of battling the first bout of her period.

⚠️ This is an 18+ fic with mild NSFW content. Minors do not engage. 🔞 Thank you. 🙂

Taglist: @goodoldcharley , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @braindead94, @curbitkirby, @freddiefredfive, @writingkitten, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

---

“Honey, I'm home,” the older man called from the front corridor as he put his briefcase to the side and hung his coats on the rack nearby.

He waited for your normal response, but to his surprise, it was silent.

He scratched his head in confusion, realizing that you were nowhere in sight.

Swiftly after, he noted that the lights were off in the kitchen and the living room.

That was even more peculiar.

You were always in one of those two rooms when he got home. And you always greeted him after work, especially on long nights like this.

And it was a very, long night.

He made you aware of that, as well as his growing annoyance with all of his fellow OBGYN's at Chelsea General Hospital at the time.

It worried you.

But you did your best to calm him down via text.

You kept sending him videos of apex predators being strong and steadfast in the wild. That, in turn, gave him the confidence and energy he needed to get through the rest of his hellish shift.

So he expected you to welcome him with big, open arms and a nice dinner as soon as he made it back home.

But nothing.

Still, he made his way upstairs to see if you were there. It didn't seem like the house was disturbed in any way and your car was parked outside.

So you had to be upstairs, right?

His inquiry was soon answered as he took his last step up to the top floor. In an instant, he heard you loudly throwing up in your shared master bathroom before the toilet loudly flushed after.

Harding was puzzled. He wondered if you were sick or if it was your monthly gift.

It made more sense that you were just sick, since you never threw up during your cycles.

But then again, you had started a new birth control he prescribed for you, so maybe that was the culprit.

Calmly, he walked into your shared room and then pried the bathroom door open to find you curled over the toilet still hurling into the bowl.

You had been in that same position for longer than 5 minutes and although you felt like you threw up all the remnants of your stomach lining, you still felt the urge to vomit more. So you didn't leave that spot.

However, your eyes did move over to your boyfriend. You felt horrible seeing how concerned he looked.

You could just tell his heart was aching from seeing you in such distress. It was clear as day in his dark eyes.

“Honey, are you okay?” he asked, before you threw up again.

“Hardy,” you started after you picked your head back up. “Babe, I'm fine. I promise. Just some menstrual sickness. I'll be okay.”

“You never have to vomit,” Harding swiftly replied. “This has to be a side effect of the new birth control I put you on.”

“Oh, right,” you responded. “Well, it'll pass. I trust your judgment. I like this birth control so far. If this is the only side effect, well that's fine with me.”

“Right,” he groaned. “How long have you been at the toilet like this?”

“About five minutes,” you admitted. “My period started this afternoon and you know how bad my cramps are. So I was resting, although this new birth control seems to make my cramps not as bad. Anyway, I guess I overslept and didn't have time to cook your dinner. I'm sorry, babe.”

“That's alright. I can warm some leftovers. That doesn't matter right now. What matters is you. Your dysmenorrhea is my main concern right now,” he clarified. “Is it just your normal cramps and this little side effect that's been bothering you today? Is that it?”

“Yes, I promise, Hardy. You don't need to worry about me. I'm okay.”

He wiped his brow in relief.

“Okay, good. I'm glad these new pills are helping your cramps a little, but I hope you won't be throwing up like this frequently. I guess we have to see throughout your cycle what happens,” he started. “But looks like you're done for now, so leftovers will have to wait. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

“We don't have to eat leftovers, Hardy,” you assured him. “That Thai street food place is still open til midnight. Just call it in. I'll get my usual.”

“Okay, but after we shower,” he specified.

“Aye, aye captain,” you teased.

He chuckled, before walking over to you and giving you his hand. You took it and he helped you back on your feet.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he said back, giving you a sweet kiss on your cheek. You blushed, before he bent down lower and gave you another kiss on your neck.

“Hardy,” you cooed. “What are you doing?”

“Just because I can't kiss your lips right now, doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you at all,” he explained, as his hands moved to your clothes.

Gingerly, he took your tank top off before swiping your shorts and panties off too.

And when he glanced at your bare body, he couldn't help but lick his lips.

Sure, he had seen you naked plenty of times, but your natural curves and soft skin always made him go mad.

You were just so beautiful to him. It made him go crazy every time.

“Damn. You take my breath away every time I see your bare skin.”

You giggled, before blushing.

“Oh, you,” you chirped. “Now it's my turn.”

He snickered, before you moved forward and removed his bowtie. Once discarded, you began to unbutton his crisp work shirt and quickly threw it to the side to expose his peak form you loved so much.

Oh his titties and little paunch looked so nice under the bathroom lighting. And his little tufts of chest hair really were a nice garnish to his natural look.

But you had to see him bare like you were.

It wasn't enough to just see his glorious chest.

You wanted to bask in him, even if you couldn't have sex like you wanted to right now.

“Still admiring me?” he asked, thick eyebrow cocked up.

“When am I not? You're so damn handsome.”

He blushed before asking in a cocky tone,

“Are you gonna take off my trousers and boxers? Or will I have to while you watch?”

“I'm capable of taking off the rest of your clothes and admiring you at the same time,” you huffed as you began to take his pants off.

He just laughed, but loved the look on your face when you saw his unclothed, resting cock.

Well, it was half mast, but still a sight to behold to you.

It still amazed you how nice his cock was and how much his girth made up for his average length.

He had a nice, thick penis and he knew how to use it. And you were ever so grateful, especially on nights like these where he wanted to fuck his stress away.

You were so tempted to at least touch it, just to give him some sexual satisfaction. But to your surprise, he smacked your hand away.

“Oww, what was that for?”

“I don't need you to do that for me. I'm fine. Now let's get in the shower. Tonight, I'm taking care of you. Sex can wait until your cycle is over…that means any and all sexual activity.”

“Yes, Hardy,” you groaned before you followed him into the shower after he started the water.

After manureving to stand in front of your big and tall boyfriend, you sighed in relief as the gentle caress of warm water coated your aching body.

Harding always knew the right setting to put the shower spray on and tonight was no different. It felt like the soft pour of rain deep within the Amazon, and it was heaven to you.

He took notice of your euphoria, smiling at the sight of your content.

Your smile and the way your face would turn red at the slightest compliment or touch always warmed his heart.

He never liked to see you down or hurt or sick, so seeing this change in demeanor really helped him calm his worry for the moment.

“Relaxed?” he softly asked.

You nodded, running your hand through your now damp hair.

He lightly chuckled, before suddenly asking,

“Are your breasts tender?”

“A little,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I forgot to earlier,” he clarified. “Allow me to help with that.”

You giggled, before the blush on your face exposed how excited you were for him to touch and massage your breasts.

Because you knew he wasn’t JUST gonna massage your breasts.

And you were proven right, yet again when you felt his soft belly against your back.

You mewed, before he bent down and began to track his lips down your jaw and into your neck. His gentle kisses made you feel all warm inside, before he finally moved his hands over to your bosom.

Gingerly, he rubbed the tips of his index and ring fingers on both hands against your nipples, moving them in a circular motion.

You bit your lip, trying not to scream at how good it felt. Harding was more than aware of how sensitive your nipples were, being your gynecologist first and all.

The memory of you moaning audibly when he gave you your breast exam during your first appointment with him still made both of you giggle.

“Still so sensitive,” he whispered against your shoulder he was now kissing. “Just like the first time I touched you there.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. “Your fingers and hands just feel so good.”

He chuckled.

“That's what made me fall in love with you,” he admitted.

“Really? You never told me that.”

“I guess I never wanted to admit it. But we've been together for a year now so might as well be honest. I never thought I would fall in love so quickly after my wife died. But then you came into my office, you beautiful ray of sunshine. My angel, sent to me from above. Your smile, your laugh, your timid voice, it all just sent my soul ablaze. I'm just glad you gave an old man like me a chance.”

“Oh, Hardy. I love you,” you hummed. “And I don't care that you're older than me. You know I like older men. You've been a heaven sent to me too. You're the best gynecologist and boyfriend a girl could ever hope to have. And between you and me, I've never had orgasms as good as you give me.”

He snickered before blushing himself.

“Thank you kindly, angel. I love you too,” he assured you with a quick kiss to your cheek.

His hands moved up to your soft flesh after, and gently he knead your boobs between his strong and sturdy hands.

You moaned loudly as he did so, leaning more into his belly as his massage became a little firmer.

“Still feels good, angel?”

“Yes, yes, Hardy. Please don't stop.”

“I’ll keep going for a little longer. But I have to address your cramps soon too,” he explained. “Looks like you don't have any lumps though. That's good.”

You laughed.

“It's not a breast exam, Hardy. You're always on, I swear.”

“Nothing wrong with checking on your breast health while I’m making you feel good,” he remarked.

“I guess you got me there,” you relented, before he slowly removed his hands from your breasts. “Thank you, Hardy. That felt so good.”

“You're welcome, angel,” he quickly replied before he took the handheld shower head off of its stand and angled it at your stomach and midsection.

“What are you doing?” you asked, annoyed that the water wasn't falling down on you anymore.

“Handling your cramps,” he swiftly said, before his thumb pushed the nob down and made the water spray out a little heavier and a bit faster against that skin.

“Ooh, okay. That feels really good,” you moaned, making Harding give you another cheek kiss.

“I know, love. I'm just gonna run this over your abdomen and midsection for a couple of minutes. Let me know if I need to change the speed or the temperature.”

“Okay,” you cooed.

He only snickered in response, keeping the shower head in his left hand while his right hand held your waist steady.

His hand holding your waist also moved in circles, gingerly tickling your skin there. It made you giggle and he gave you a sweet neck kiss after.

“Okay, you want me to run the water on your tummy a little longer? Or are you ready for me to wash your hair and body?”

“I'm ready for you to wash me,” you replied. “I miss more of your touch.”

He snickered in your ear.

“I'll wash your hair first,” he whispered, after he put the shower head back on its stand. “I want to take my time washing your beautiful body and praising it like I want to.”

“Okay…daddy…”

“What did you call me?” he asked, his voice oozing with intrigue.

“You heard me…daddy.”

He sinisterly snickered before pulling you closer to his paunch again.

“I'm gonna tear you up in 5 days,” he warned with a kiss to your ear and jaw. “But until then, I'm gonna make you squirm and beg for Wednesday night to come.”

“Oh, daddy,” you whimpered, as his teeth grazed your sensitive spot on your neck. He nibbled down, making you jolt a bit before you moaned in ecstasy.

“Sexy temptress,” he moaned, before he moved his head and hands from you.

You whined, but turned your head to see him gathering your shampoo in one hand as his other hand pushed down the pump.

“I'm coming,” he said when he saw you looking his way. “Be patient, little grasshopper.”

You giggled.

“Okay,” you playfully moaned before you felt his shampoo slathered palms moving around your scalp and hair.

His firm, big hands always felt so nice moving the shampoo around.

It was the most pleasant head massage.

“Rinse,” he instructed you before you ran your head right under the shower again and let the shampoo run down your skin and down the drain.

As you were doing that, Harding gathered some conditioner the same way as the shampoo.

You both met halfway again after and soon he was working the conditioner into your hair.

He was even more thorough, knowing that your conditioner of choice made your hair even more smooth and silky than it naturally was.

Because he loved touching and admiring your hair. It was one of his favorite ways to show affection to you other than the neck kisses and bites he always gave you.

“Okay. I'll let that sit while I wash you off,” he told you. “Would you like me to bathe you with your lavender wash or cucumber melon wash?”

“Lavender, please,” you answered.

“Your wish is my command, angel,” he replied, before he put some of the liquid on your favorite purple loofah.

He started moving the loofah against your back, making sure to make his fingers slip from the material so it could graze your back.

You whined at the teasing touch, so he began to kiss every area his fingers and loofah traced.

And to your delight, he got on his knees to playfully smack your ass before he moved the loofah over and kissed right where he smacked you.

“Oh, daddy. You're so naughty,” you teased to get a reaction out of him.

“I'll definitely be Wednesday,” he promised as he got off his knees.

He turned you around after, fully intending to wash off your breasts first.

He was gentle though especially when he got to your pussy.

And his kisses felt even nicer as he went on while you were facing him.

“Okay, you can rinse again,” he told you after he got back up on his feet again.

“Yes, daddy,” you teased again, as you did as he said.

Once you were done rinsing your body and the conditioner out of your hair, you returned the favor by washing Harding off with his favorite Old Spice gel.

He was practically mewing at your soft touch too, since you let your fingers slip past the loofah like he had. And you gave him many many kisses upon his body as well.

You just had to show him how much you loved him and appreciated his care.

“That was quite a shower,” Harding said after he turned the water off.

“Yeah, it was. But I'm hungry now.”

“Ditto,” he replied. “But let's get dried off and dressed first. Then I'll order dinner.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said back, following him out of the shower.

As expected, Harding insisted on drying your body and hair off before he dried himself off.

Then, of course, he also dressed you in your favorite pajamas once you put some new pads and panties on.

You threw your now dry hair into a bun after, while he got into his own pair of favorite pajamas.

You stared intently, but he didn't notice until he pulled his pajama pants up. Then he chuckled once he noticed.

“Like what you see?”

“Of course, handsome,” you said, reassuring him with a warm hug.

“Angel, you're too kind,” he said, his face turning completely red. “Now let's get you to bed. I'll order our food after.”

“Okay,” you hummed, rubbing your head against his arm.

He chuckled again, kissed your forehead, and then led you back into your room.

Without hesitation, you crawled to your side of the bed and let him tuck you in before he gave you another kiss upon your cheek.

“Take it easy, angel. I'm gonna go back downstairs, order the food, and wait for it while you rest up here.”

“Sounds good to me,” you chirped, before he left you, snickering all the way downstairs.

Luckily, you weren't by yourself in bed for too long. Between Harding ordering the food and him waiting for it, it was about 25 minutes of wait time.

And when he made his way back upstairs, you got really excited because you could hear his loud footsteps.

You smiled as he made his way back into the room. And you noticed that he had a tray with two bowls and two tea cups in his hands.

“Dinner is served,” he announced. “I got us Pad Thai to share, some roti bread, and green tea. I just wanted some tea, but I figured that you could have some too. It does help with cramps.”

“Aww, Hardy…thank you!,” you said as he came over to your side of the bed and placed the tray down by your feet.

Carefully, he gathered the teacup and put it on your nightstand before he handed you your bowl he topped with the roti bread.

You grabbed it and smiled at him, then watched as he moved the tray over to his side to get his bowl and teacup.

And once he got his self straightened out, he got closer to you in the bed.

“You can eat now, angel,” he said after he noticed you hesitating. “You don't have to wait for me.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” you clarified. “Thank you for making my first night of shark week better. You always have a way of picking me back up.”

“Funny, I could say the same,” he said with a hardy chuckle. “You're welcome, though. Guess this night wasn’t a complete bust on my end either.”

You giggled, before you leaned against his arm.

“I love you so much, Hardy. I'm so glad you're off tomorrow so you can take care of me more.”

He laughed.

“I love you more, angel. I'm glad to be off too. Because there's no patient I rather be with and care for than you,” he assured you...

...making you blush even more.

#hope you enjoy #happy reading #this is my first time writing harding #so i hope i did him justice #harding hooten #dr. harding hooten #monday mornings #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #alfred molina

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ladyinwriting18 · 1 year

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The Experiment (Doc Ock x Reader)

Summary: Otto Octavius has come up with a little experiment. Will you be able to prove the doctor's hypothesis correct?

Words: 6,241 Co-Author: simpremerat

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Sex In Lab, Multiple orgasms, spanking, sex toys, PIV, oral (female receiving)

“I expect you in my lab at 10:00pm, little sunbeam. I have so much planned for you, it would be a shame to delay because I have to punish you for being late.” The text from your boyfriend sends you into a tail-spin of questions. Was he surprising you with a night on the town? Or having dinner sent to his lab? Should you dress classy? Sexy? Would there be other people there? You read over his text.

The word ‘punish’ jumps out at you from your cell phone screen. The ominous undertone is impossible to ignore. Otto Octavius isn’t one to pussy foot around. He wouldn’t threaten a consequence if he didn’t plan on keeping true to his word.

Throughout your entire relationship he’s always been very clear and concise with his feelings, wants, and expectations. He’s an excellent communicator which was one of the many aspects that made dating him so easy.

Your heart rate picks up just enough to cause the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Whatever he had planned, it clearly wasn’t going to be your typical dinner date. With this in mind you start getting ready. If Otto had gone out of his way to plan something special for you, then you would dress the part for him. You would make it worth Daddy’s while.

Your hands run over your body as you slip on a new lingerie set. It’s sheer with swirls of lace flower patterns all done in your favorite color. It makes you feel overly feminine and beautiful. Over it you put on a simple black cocktail dress, so as not to ruin the surprise underneath. Stepping into your black heels and adding final touches to your make up, you find yourself anxiously checking the clock. While cheekily showing up a few minutes late sounds enticing, it would surely prolong the surprises of the night. With your mind made up, you lock your front door and make your way down the street in the direction of Otto’s lab.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few blocks away Otto is doing his own last minute preparations. All the while his mind spins with possibilities of what he could do with his pretty princess behind the walls of his lab. The rest of the staff had long since left for the evening, ensuring there would be no interruptions. Thrilling as it might have been to have the threat of discovery hanging over your heads, he wouldn’t share this, or you, with anyone.

He’d already changed out of his normal work attire. Instead of a lab jacket, he wore his leather duster coat. His chest is bare but he wears black pants, and heavy leather boots.

Otto waits by the table that ordinarily serves as a workstation. Well….he supposes in a way it still is. However, it no longer holds his notes and microscope because very soon his perfect girl would be on top of it. Beside it, a tray with an array of toys, all new. He couldn’t have the ‘data’ corrupted by being predictable. You’re always so…curious about his work, and so he came up with an idea for an ‘experiment’. Just. For. You. He glances down at his watch to check the time before flicking his gaze towards the glass double doors at the exact moment you walk in.

Right on time like the good girl you are.

The smile that is reserved for only you breaks over his lips, but when he pauses to take you in, his eyes darken with undisguised lust. He would have had the same reaction to you showing up in sweats, but seeing that you had gone out of your way to please him leaves him hard. “Oh sunbeam, you’re perfect.” A content hum follows his words as he closes the distance between you.

“Hi Daddy. Did I make it on time?” You ask cutely even though you were right on time.

Otto grins at your clear search for praise. He catches your chin in his palm and tilts your face to meet his gaze. His little sunbeam in the palm of his hand. “You did. Such a good girl, doing exactly as Daddy asked and coming to his lab.” His thumb runs over your bottom lip, “And looking so beautiful too. You spoil me, don’t you?” You blossom under his praise and lean into his touch. He makes you feel so good with just a few words and a light touch to your chin. “I’m glad Daddy thinks I look beautiful.” If you wanted to say more, you weren’t given the chance because he inclined his head to claim your lips. The kiss is soft and deceivingly chaste as his mind fills with the image of your makeup running down your face from yet another orgasm.

“Forgive the secrecy,” He mumbles against your lips, reluctant to break away. Still he trades the hold he has on your chin for your hand. “But I thought you might enjoy a surprise.”

Your eyes light up at the word.

Hand in hand, he guides you further into the lab towards the table you usually find him working at. His supplies are gone, and it takes you only seconds to realize he intends to replace it with you.

You aren’t given the chance to voice your realization before the touch of Otto’s lips brush against the shell of your ear so he can murmur into it.

“Daddy wants to show his curious girl his work. A little experiment. Would you like to hear about it?”

He catches a lock of your hair, and twists it around his finger before giving it a soft tug like a bell. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of your ear in such a way that you find yourself clenching your thighs together. You nod your head and he continues. “I want to test a hypothesis. I think my Little Sunbeam can give me at least four orgasms tonight while her Daddy uses her like his good, eager little cum slut on his table.” Your knees nearly buckle. Wicked man. Such a wicked man with an even more wicked mind. “Do you think you can prove my hypothesis right?”

His words break you from your thoughts.

You meet his gaze. The passion in his dark eyes penetrates your soul. You lean in to press the tip of your nose to his. “What does my Doctor need me to do first?”

A grin spreads across his features. Even his metal claws click with excitement. It’s a sin of how effortlessly perfect you are. He chuckled indulgently at your quick agreement and wonders if you’ll keep it once you realize what he has in store. Not that his plans are bad, but he didn’t intend on either of you leaving this lab until you were a wet, dripping mess that was barely capable of coherency. Straightening his spine, he runs a single hand along your side. “First, I need you to hold still.” His hand continues its path, moving up to take hold of the zipper at the back of your dress. He pulls it down until the smooth black material is a dark puddle at your feet. When he catches sight of what lies underneath, his eyes widen. You look over your shoulder to see his reaction to your new lingerie set being revealed to him. You can’t help but giggle at how stunned he seems. Surprising him has always brought you great joy, this moment is no different.

“You are….exquisite, Little Sunbeam.” Otto breathes out, inclining his head to kiss your bare shoulder.

His praise has you nearly wiggle your ass back into him, feeling mischievous. A feeling that quickly fades as large hands make their way up your arms and then around to the front of your body. “Otto,” Your mouth falls open in a moan when his hands cup your breasts. He palms them while his fingers easily find your nipples, pinching them through the thin fabric of your bra. The lace is so thin that you might as well be naked. Your nipples harden from his touch. He knows your body too well, alternating between pinches and light tugging that leave you squirming in his grasp.

You can already feel Otto’s hardness pressed into your backside. It only worsens your squirming. Your hands grip at his sleeves while he paws at you.

“Does that feel good, Princess?” The smugness in his voice tells you that he already knows the answer, but still you know he’ll expect an answer. “Yes, Doctor Octavius.”

You swear he purrs at the sound of you using his formal title. “Keep holding still while Daddy helps you onto the table?” You nod and he bends, hooking an arm under your knees and keeping the other around your back so he can lift you off your feet. Even though he had warned you, you still giggle loudly when your feet leave the ground. “Daddy is so strong.” You whisper as nerves bubble in your belly. The two of you had been intimate countless times before, but tonight seems different. More….sexually charged.

You can’t deny that your cunt is already damp behind the lace of your panties. Otto gently sets you down on the table, helping you to lay back before two of his tentacles snaked around him. The cool metal claws glide down your stomach, thighs, and calves. Your body arches to meet their touch. You enjoy the feeling of them just as much as you enjoy the touch of his hands. To you, they are just extensions of the man you love, and therefore a part of him. And like a good girl, you love every part of your Daddy.

The claws lock into place around your ankles and slowly start pulling your legs further apart, giving him an unobstructed view of your pussy, concealed only by a scrap of feminine fabric. Your toes curl inside of your heels, as the throb of your cunt becomes stronger. You feel like his toy. Like his personal plaything, all laid out on his lab table. The thought alone is enough to make you want to cum. “Now, Daddy has bought some new things, and he’s going to use them…but first—” He looms over you, bending down to whisper to you, his face hovering just above your own. “First, I want to see if I can make my girl gush all over my face with just my tongue. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Your cheeks flush but you nod without hesitation, and beg for the chance. “Please can I? Can I cum on your tongue?”

“Of course my good girl can.” Otto growls, lips twisting into a smirk as he moves to the end of the table. His claws drag you down towards him so you’re in the perfect position. He runs his hands up your legs, appreciating the smooth warmth of your flesh. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he traces the pretty lace pattern of your panties, “As lovely as you look in these, they’re keeping me away from what’s mine.”

The sharp sound of ripping echoes throughout the lab. He’s ripped your panties clean off your body, revealing your glistening sex to his gaze. He bends down, releasing a raspy exhale before turning his head to leave kisses on your inner thighs. You whine, bucking your hips off the table. He’s taking his sweet time but you need that skillful mouth of his on your cunt. You continue your impatient movements, struggling within the hold of his claws. But Otto is unphased. He won’t be rushed. A third tentacle moves to press into your lower abdomen. There is something so darkly appealing about the way you squirm for him. The thought that you’re so needy that you can’t stay still. He didn’t have the heart to continue being cruel, so he glides his tongue down to your slit. He groans at the taste of you. “You taste devine my sweet girl.” He explores your depths with his tongue, savoring the taste of you like you were his last meal. You’re about to plead for more, but the words die in your throat the second his mouth wraps around your clit. He sucks at that throbbing, swollen gem of yours, loving the way your thighs shake. His hands latch onto your hips, dragging you closer and holding you just where he wants you. “Mmmhh! F-Fuck, right there!” Your hands grip the sides of the table, knuckles white from how he sucks harder on your clit. You throw your head back since his claws stop you from doing much else. “Feels so good! Don’t stop. Please don’t! You’re s-so good with y-your mouth, Daddy!”

The muscles in your stomach tighten as his tongue steadily works you higher to your peak. His mouth is so warm, wet, and fucking perfect. The pleasure he gives is almost deafening. Your blood pumps through your veins so hard that you swear you can hear it.

You can remember in the beginning of your relationship when Otto was determined to learn every inch of your body. It wasn’t something most men bothered with, but not Otto Octavius . No, he had studied you so he could turn you into the mewling mess you are now.

You’re so close to cumming that you aren’t sure you’ll even get the chance to ask permission before you do, but still you try. “I’m so close to cumming. Please let me cum? Please let your experiment give you her first orgasm?” He can’t drag himself away from your soaked cunt long enough to tell you that making you cum is the whole point. So instead he nods while lapping away at your clit. His permission is a blessing. The moment he gives it you let go and cum hard, gushing all over his face. “Mmmh my good, sweet girl.” Otto moans into you, lapping up every drop his tongue can catch. It’s only when he feels your body still that he gently withdraws. The tentacles on your stomach and ankles slide away as he straightens and walks back to the head of the table. You feel dazed, your mind only having enough function to tell you to refill your lungs with air. A hand runs over your sweat-dampened hair. Your eyes flutter open to find Otto hovering over you with a proud smile adorning his lips. He stares at you as if admiring a piece of fine art. His eyes roam, taking in how incredible you look blissed out. Your face flushed, your hair tousled, your nipples peaked behind the fabric of your bra, your legs spread wide. To him you are a masterpiece.

“Daddy is so proud of you. You did so well for me. And I know you can do it again, can’t you?” You bask in his praise, not hesitating to answer, “Yes Doctor, I can cum for you again.” “Good, whenever you’re ready, turn over onto your knees with your ass up.” Wanting to give you time he walks over to the tray table and picks a single item from it. By the time he’s turned back around, you’ve already moved yourself into position. Your face and upper body lays flat on the table while your knees are propped up with your back arched, leaving your ass and cunt on full display. A tremor runs through you from being this exposed, but it also feels good to simply obey and forget about everything else. Something catches your eyes, a long black piece of silk dangling from his finger. Your brain quickly registers that it’s a blindfold. “Would you like to wear this for me?” You nod and stay still as he ties the blindfold in place. The world around you goes dark but heightens your other senses. “If you become overwhelmed or need to stop you tell me. Immediately. Is that understood?”

You’re touched that even after all this time he still takes his time to remind you of the parameters of your dynamic. “Yes Otto.” He hums, pleased by your response. Shortly after, your ears pick up on the sound of his steps walking away and then coming closer again. You can only assume it’s to gather more items. You try to listen for more clues but the only thing you hear is a small thunk of something being placed beside you on the lab table. “Are you nervous about what the Doctor is going to do with his beautiful, cock hungry experiment next?” You aren’t given the chance to answer before he starts running something along your body. It starts at the nape of your neck and travels down your spine. You automatically recognize the touch of leather. It caresses your skin as strands of it fall on either side of your body.. You shake your head and answer him. “I’m not nervous. I want it, want to feel it.” He stops at your backside, letting the handle rest just between your asscheeks. “Then tell me; what do you think this is that I’ve been running along your skin?” He’s certain you know but he wants to hear you say it. “A flogger? Made of leather.” He chuckled indulgently at your accurate guess, tapping the hand of the flogger to the base of your spine. “Clever girl. Yes, a flogger made of leather. Just for you.” You preen under his praise, a smile curling at the corners of your mouth. That is until something is pressed against your nipple. You gasp at the vibrations that instantly cause your nipple to harden. “Do you feel what else I can do to this magnificent body of yours?” You don’t know where the vibrator came from but you don’t care. “Yes Daddy. I want more. Please give me more?” “My poor, pretty little experiment. Already so desperate when the doctor just made her cum.” His tone is soft, a mix of sympathy and degradation. Caught between his desire to pleasure you and make you mad for just the thought of his touch. He moved the vibrator to your other nipple, pressing it down a little harder. Your pleas grow louder and his tentacles stir around him, reacting to his thoughts. You owed him a few more orgasms and he was planning on getting them. Lowering his hand from your nipple, he brings the vibrator down your stomach, circles your navel before bringing it to your clit. Your hips buck back just as the leather strands slap across your backside. You cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure has you gasping. You aren’t sure it can get much better but then the vibrator shifts, sliding through your slick folds and slipping inside.

However the stimulation on your clit isn’t lost, making you realize that the toy he’s using has a second attachment to stimulate your clit and g-spot simultaneously. You cry out his name but it’s cut off by the flogger being brought back down onto your ass.

His jaw clenches at the sound of it against your skin. “Your skin marks so easily.” Even if it’s faint, just those two strikes left traces of pink across your skin. Small marks of his possession that only left him hungry for more. The leather strands snap across your back. You give a high pitched yelp from the impact. “Fuck! Thank you Daddy! Mark me more Daddy? Please?” You grind back onto the toy the more he whips your ass. Your cunt is so slick that you’re starting to drip. “So fucking wet.” He breathes, “How long do you think it’ll take you this time, Little Sunbeam?” His gaze roams over every inch of you. Your submission is his favorite possession. Far more priceless than the money and power and prestige he’d once allowed to be his everything. As important as his work is to him and as much time as he devoted to it, it’s moments like these when he knew he’d gladly give it all up for you.

His perfect sunbeam.

He pumps the toy in harder, increasing the pace while the second attachment buzzes against your swollen clit. You pant and whine each time the toy hits your g-spot. It feels so good that you have difficulty holding steady. Your whole body trembles under the build of tension and pleasure. The flogger comes down again and your cunt clenches around the vibrator, hard enough that you gush. “Otto!” You cry out his name, knowing you’re close but he doesn’t stop the movement of either of his hands. Three more strikes to your ass and you’re falling apart. “That’s it, cum again for me Sunbeam.”

Your ears ring from how hard your orgasm hits. Involuntarily your thighs clamp together around the toy and his hand. Your body is as stiff as a board until the waves of your orgasm subside. Only when your muscles relax does your body unfurl and your head rests back down on the lab table. Seeing that you’re starting to lay back down does he carefully slide the toy from your depths before passing it and the flogger to one of his awaiting claws so they could return the items to the tray. He places his hand on your back and rubs soothing circles against your soft skin.

“Keep breathing, Princess. Nice and slow. Daddy’s going to take the blindfold off now.” He does just that, sliding it off slowly so you could adjust to the light. Once it’s off he tosses it aside. His actuators began moving around you and turn you on your back. Coming face to face with him and you smile, cheeks flushed from your two orgasms. “Hi Daddy.” He returns your smile. “Are you alright? Do you need a break? Water?” He questions softly while his gaze sweeps over you, lingering on your soaked cunt and the glistening pleasure on your thighs.

You reach up to cup his cheek, “I’m more than alright. I want to keep going. I still need to give Daddy two more.” “Very well, Sunbeam.” He smirks and reaches for you again, tracing his thumbs over your nipples. “Would you like to choose what you cum on next? Another toy? Or perhaps my fingers in those leather gloves you like?”

Your chest arches into his touch, eyes about to fall shut until he mentions his gloves. You perk up at that. “Gloves. Please use your leather gloves.”

He turns his face into the hand at his cheek and leaves a kiss to your palm before stepping away so he could grab his gloves. Moving back to your side, he lets you watch him slip his large hands into the cool, stiff material. He reaches out and traces his index finger along your jawline. “My Little Sunbeam…so sweet, so responsive. Will you keep being a good girl for me and get my fingers as wet as that cunt of yours?” He brings two fingers to your lips, seeking entrance. You take the thick digits into your mouth, moaning at the taste of leather that fills your senses. You start by delicately sucking, trying to retain that image of innocence to entice him further. It’s your favorite game to play. Being the innocent mouse caught in his sharp claws. You coo around his fingers and stare at him with wide eyes. He looks back at you and curses under his breath at the feeling of your mouth and that pleading look you’re giving him.

It’s all too much. With his free hand, he unzips and unbuttons his pants so his cock springs free from the fabric. It curls up towards his navel as he wraps his hand around the base. “You’ve had me hard for you all day, Little Sunbeam. I’ve been distracted with thoughts of you since this morning.” His confession has your face heating up, but it’s the breathlessness of his voice that has your eyes traveling down his body. You find him stroking his length in his gloved hand, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. Your hips buck and a long muffled moan leaves you at the sight. You twitch with want, finding it difficult to stay still while watching him. And the worst part is, he knows it. “See something you like?” You nod with a whimper, hands reaching for him to grip the opening of his coat. “Does my experiment want her Doctor’s cock?” You whimper louder and try to pull him closer by his jacket, but Otto doesn’t budge. Instead he slips his now wet fingers from your mouth so he can shift his attention to your cunt. “Always such a good, good girl.” He mumbles, and places just his thumb on your clit, stroking it as soft as he would a kitten begging for attention. “And if my good girl wants my cock then she’s going to have to give me that third orgasm before I cum all over her tits. Can you do that?” “Yes, Daddy. I can do th-nghh!” Your words turn into sounds as his index and middle fingers slip inside you. He begins to slowly pump his fingers in and out of your depths. Your mouth falls open and your brows knit together, pleasure once again crumpling your expression. His thumb presses harder against your clit, circling it and making your entire body jolt as if being shocked with electricity. “Yes! Don’t stop! More, please more!”

Your cries has his fist moving faster up and down his length. To him, you’re nothing short of a religious experience. He can hear your wetness smash against his gloves, eliciting a deep guttural groan from his chest. “You better hurry with that orgasm or Daddy is going to end up painting your chest.” His head tilts back in pleasure as he moves his hand in tandem with quickening thrusts of his fingers in and out of your soaked core. His need builds by the moment. But then again, so is yours. Your cunt repeatedly clenches around his leather clad digits. Your body quakes and your mind feels fogged over with heat. You can’t pull your eyes from him, watching as his head tilts back. But still you manage to grind down on his fingers.

His fingers hit you deep, causing fresh juices to spill out of you and coat the palm of his glove. It's all too much, too erotic. Watching him touch himself. The feeling of leather inside and pressed to your clit. You’re starting to come apart much faster than you thought possible after already cumming twice, but your body seems determined to give Otto whatever he wants. “Daddy!” You gasp, not capable of stopping what’s coming. “So c-close! I–mmmhhh!” You can’t even finish your sentence before your hips arch off the table and your inner walls spasm. You scream out his name as you cum. It hits you hard, takes your breath away, and rocks your body off its axis. You suck in air to try and refill your lungs. It feels as if you’ve just ran a mile. You slump back and a few overstimulated tears roll down your cheeks. He withdraws his fingers from your core slowly and carefully, all the while keeping a close eye on you as you come down from your high. Ridding himself of his soiled gloves, his hands come to cup your face. His thumbs glide over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. “My perfect girl. Daddy’s here. He has you.” He lets one of his hands move to your hair, catching a lock of it and twining it around his index finger. His loving voice and soft touch cause you to stir, the corners of your mouth twitch in an attempt to smile. You’re floating on a cloud or maybe an ocean wave.

Whichever it is, you feel amazing. Tired, but weightless. The feeling of subspace keeps you warm until your eyes manage to flutter open. Your eyes meet, seeing that his face only inches from your own has you humming. He isn’t sure he’s ever seen you look so spent before, he rather enjoys it.

“I’m so proud of you, Little Sunbeam. You’ve done so well for me. Better than I could have imagined.” You swallow thickly to moisten your throat so you could speak. “I like making Daddy proud.”

With a smile Otto leaves a kiss at your hairline. “Now…I think you can prove my hypothesis correct and give me one last orgasm, but you must tell me if you need to rest. I won’t have you passing out or uncomfortable. I want you to enjoy my cock just as much as I’m going to enjoy giving it to you.”

He mentions finally giving you his cock and your arm comes to wrap around his broad shoulders. You pull him in so you could lazily kiss his mouth, forgetting all about his question. But your throat starts to feel dry again, forcing you to pull back. “I don’t want to stop. I want to finish Daddy’s experiment, but can I have some water first?” “Of course you can, my love.” He breathes, but doesn’t move away. Instead one of his metal claws slithers over to grab a bottle of water from the tray table. “Here, let Daddy help you.”

The same metal arm snakes around your shoulders and guides you upwards so you don’t choke. He unscrews the cap and brings the bottle to your lips, letting you drink your fill. As much as his cock begs for attention, nothing is worth endangering your health. “Drink as much as you need, Little Sunbeam.” You do, greedily drinking more than half of the bottle. The water feels so good sliding down your raw throat. When you’ve finished you pull back and breath contently through your mouth. Otto’s claw pulls back, letting you rest back down on the lab table and discarding the bottle. “Soooo,” You draw the word out while batting your eyes up at him. “Does this mean I can have Daddy’s cock now?”

He tosses his head back with a gruff chuckle. Leave it to you to be on the brink of exhaustion and then in the blink of an eye be ready for more at the thought of his cock. “Don’t fret, Princess. I think we’ve both waited long enough.” He straightens his spine and walks to the edge of the table. The actuators move with him, two of them trailing down your legs before clasping around your ankles to pull you forward so that your feet dangle over the edge and Otto can step between your thighs. He hadn’t bothered to tuck his cock back into his pants, allowing it to now rest against your cunt. His wraps around the base to guide it through your folds, teasing you from your slit to your clit. “I thought you said we’ve both waited long enough?” You pant and squirm.

A wicked grin spreads across his features. “Hm, I did say that, didn’t I?” Without another word he slams inside you. You gasp at every inch being pushed into you so fast.

He immediately tenses, moaning at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him whole. He feels your walls flutter around him, trying to accommodate his size. “My Sunbeam is always so tight.” He groans, closing his eyes and gripping your hips in his firm grasp. You moan in response and throw your arms around his neck. He starts by moving out slowly, then back in, giving you time to adjust. But Otto knew he couldn’t wait much longer, not after watching you cum three times.

Brown eyes look down and sees his cock glistening from your juices. He isn’t sure he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. He slams into you, unable to keep his pace slow, earning him a yelp from your trembling lips. “I’ve waited all night for this. To stretch you out with my cock and use you like my perfect little toy.” Your eyes are glued to one another as he talks. Both of you taking in the other’s blissful expressions. You find yourself clinging onto his shoulders, nails clawing at his flesh. You’re so turned on, so stimulated from every orgasm he’s given you.

The movement of his claws catches your eye. They seem to be opening up a bottle of lube. “Daddy? What’s that for?”

“What’s that for?” He repeated slowly, enjoying your anticipation. Your mounting need. He could almost taste that final orgasm. “This is a lube I created just for you. To make sure my Sunbeam experiences the most pleasure possible for her last orgasm.” He keeps up the momentum of his thrusts while his claw brings the bottle over you and starts to drizzle the contents onto your cunt. “Daddy made it?” You gasp when he tells you he’s created the lube for you. It makes you feel so loved that he’s taken time away from his busy seclude to create something so intimate for you. At first you feel nothing new, but the more Otto thrusts into you the harder your inner walls clench. The lube seems to be stimulating you and making your cunt feel warm. “D-Daddy! It’s making my pussy tingle.” You whine, head tilting back at the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s it, Princess. Surrender to it.” His fingers press firmer into the swell of your hips. The likelihood that you’ll have fingerprints bruised into your skin come morning grows. He thrusts in and out of your core as his claw drip more lube directly onto your clit. It’s harder for him to speak now, but he grits the words out. “Rub your clit for Daddy.” Your toes curl at his gruffer tone. You know what it means, that he’s close to cumming. Not wanting him to cum without you, you reach a trembling hand down between your legs. You stroke your clit in smooth circles while staring up into his dark eyes. “Like this Doctor?” He grunts, beads of sweat forming along his hairline. “Just like that. Doing so well for me.” You want to say more but the lube kicks in, causing your clit to throb beneath your fingertips. Your toes curl, finding it hard to keep focus. You stroke your clit faster and grind down to meet his thrusts. Your mind goes blank. The tingling of the lube and being stretched out by his cock has you shaking as a familiar tension spreads throughout your lower body. Your free hand grips the edge of the lab table while the rest of you shakes and Otto knows your peak is drawing near. “That’s it Sunbeam, prove your doctor’s hypothesis. Cum for me just one more time.”

Heat is rising in your body. Every muscle feels like a bowstring pulled taunt. “I’m gonna! I’m gonna!” You can’t even complete your sentence before your body jolts and your orgasm hits. Your vision blurs and a ringing echoes in your ears. Above you, Otto tosses his head back with a shout. Your inner walls closed in around him so tightly that it caused him to cum right along with you.

He fills you to the brim, emptying every drop inside your depths. Without warning he moves his hands to rest on either side of your head, caging you in so he can lean down and kiss you. You purr, gripping the front of his jacket to hold him in place, but you’re much too weak for that. The kiss doesn’t last long. You’re both shaking too hard. Your chests rise and fall with labored breaths. The air around you starts to settle. You both stay tangled together even after his cock softens and slips out of you. The thought of being parted is too much to bear for either of you. Otto is the first to speak while gently stroking your sweat-dampened hair back. “You truly are magnificent, Little Sunbeam. So perfect for your Daddy.” He holds you close and places kisses at your cheeks, the tip of your nose and then your forehead. You nuzzle into his kisses with a giggle and brush your lips along his before he reluctantly straightens his back. “You, my dear, are a true marvel. Giving me orgasm after orgasm. Daddy is so proud of you.” His claws have already pulled a chair beside the lab table. He pulls his pants back on before curling his arms around you to lift you into his embrace and sitting down in the chair. Feeling his body heat has you tucking yourself even closer to him and laying your head on his shoulder. Both of you are content to simply bask in the afterglow. His fingers play along your spine. You coo at the pleasant feeling and listen to his velvet like voice. “Daddy has you. Rest now, my love. I’m here to take care of you. I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready.” You nod and let your eyes drift close. You aren’t sure how much time passes and neither of you cares. Both of you have what you need and that’s each other. A playful grin tugs at the corners of your mouth before you open your mouth to speak. “I’m glad your experiment was successful, Doctor Octavious.”

Otto chuckles, squeezing you tightly as his chest rumbles with laughter.

“As am I, Little Sunbeam. As am I.”

#lady in writing #otto octavius #otto octavius x reader #doc ock #otto octavius smut #alfred molina #otto octavius fanfiction

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plush4bunny · 2 months

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The sun is warming his skin as it shines through the window. He doesn’t pay any mind to the breathtaking view offered by the top floor of the building. He is solely focused on his rosary, fingering the beads as he prays but his thoughts don’t become restful as they did before

- scene from @chrism02's 1st chapter in their gripping Comte De Reynaud x reader fanfic called "Heaven's Light"

#alfred molina #alfred molina character #comte de reynaud x reader #comte de reynaud x you #comte de reynaud #chocolat 2000 #fanfiction fanart #fanart #digital drawing #art #artists on tumblr #character design #character art

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electronikmilk · 8 months

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Seeing God

i'm feral and absolutely sick to death of looking at this, so i'm finally posting it.

Manuel Aringarosa x f reader

Rating: 18+

Contains: Spanking, submissive Manuel, dom reader, also sex worker reader.

You sipped your coffee as you peeked through the curtains of your living room window. It was late, and most other lights in the houses along the street had gone out. You lived on the outskirts of Amsterdam in a little house on a quiet street, some twenty minutes by car from the city's hustle, bustle, and neon glow.

Typically, you would be tucked away in bed, too, but you had a client scheduled for an incall session, and he wanted it done late at night for privacy. You understood this. Many others requested the same thing when they contacted you.

This one, however, was...peculiar.

Bishop Manuel Aringarosa of Opus Dei was now on your list of clients.

You closed the curtain and went to nestle into the recliner by the loveseat, telling your Alexa to put on your Spotify playlist. You listened to Johnette Napolitano's husky voice begin to sing Mexican Moon. You enjoyed the seductive strumming of thick guitar strings as you reminisced about how Manuel ended up in your lap.

Thinking of you underneath the Mexican moonlight...

Most of your clients emailed or texted you, but Manuel called out of the blue, nervously asking if booking him for an appointment was possible. He was polite and had a soothing voice with traces of a Spanish accent that you liked immediately. He made it clear right off the bat that he was, in fact, the head of Opus Dei in New York. You knew the order well, as did everyone else since they were ubiquitous and powerful. His honesty impressed you, but you had reservations about taking a man of the cloth as a client, especially someone of his rank.

"I'm sorry, Father Aringarosa." You had told him, "But I don't think I can do that. Might I suggest the--"

"Señorita, por favor..." His voice strained with emotion before he cleared his throat, "My apologies, miss. But I...I need your help. Please hear me out. Just a few minutes of your time, please."

Caught off guard, you went quiet. You could hear him sniffling on the other end. Was he crying? Feeling sorry for him, you said, "Alright, Father. Go on. Take your time."

Aringarosa told you everything in a lengthy story that you listened to intently. He had confided in you that he had desires that had started to cloud his thoughts. Typical of a man of God, he described his interest as horrendously sinful. They had also become impossible to ignore in the past months, even with the comfort of praying and penance. You had asked what it was, and he hesitated to admit it. After some gentle coaxing and a long silence from Manuel, he said he wanted to see what it felt like to let go and give complete control to another person. But it was more than that; he wanted a living goddess to submit to. He wanted to be powerless and made to worship her by whatever means, even if it included him experiencing pain.

Manuel treated the call like a confessional. Saying he had always craved something like this, even before entering the priesthood and taking his vows of celibacy. Suppressing it was difficult, and the only remedy was to throw himself headfirst into his ambitions within the church. It worked like a charm, and it sat dormant for the better part of twenty years. He eventually took head office at Opis Dei, and from there, all power over the order was in his hands, and he wielded it well.

Despite his efforts, his desire to be powerless never entirely faded. It always lurked in the back of his mind, forced down but ready to bubble to the surface in solitude and his dreams. Undeterred, Manuel stubbornly told himself that he could manage it, that everything was fine, and went about his business.

Then, it exploded to the surface once he took up extended residence in Amsterdam.

The poor man, ashamed, admitted he visited the Red Light District the week he arrived (out of vestments, incognito, Manuel stressed). He claimed he didn't solicit any of the girls in the windows or wander into adult theatres or peep shows. But the temptation was there like a forbidden fruit beckoning Manuel to bite. Taste and know.

"There were plenty of girls I would have paid to do unholy things to me." He confessed quietly. "And if I could, I would've submitted to every one of them..."

He regretted setting foot in the district because it only enflamed the desire threefold, and by God did it burn. Day and night, it consumed him until he couldn't even be in the presence of the sisters and nuns he periodically came into contact with. The young novices, especially, drove him to the brink of flustered madness. Not fully covered like the cloistered nuns, he would feast upon the occasional glimpses of soft, girlish bangs and locks of wayward curls, the rounded curves of their calves exposed by their shorter skirts, their dainty hands, anything. He devoured it like a starving man. He would see himself kissing them in his mind, waiting upon them hand and foot, or allowing them to inflict pain so he may be rewarded and become their plaything. He saw himself without will, dignity, or purpose other than giving them pleasure.

And no matter how much he willed the wicked craving away, it would not go. Manuel couldn't escape it, not even when he prayed alone within the stony walls of the nearby cathedral for his evening devotions, where he thought safety would be assured. It was not. The holy objects around him, the altar, the bloodied Christ on the cross, and the eyes of the Virgin, did nothing to stave off his lust. Prayers faltered, then died on his lips as fantasies danced in his head. The rosary hanging uselessly in his hand, he would look at the altar and think about what it would be like to worship the marvelous curves of the girls he all but ogled upon it. He wondered what it would be like to be bent over it by them and whipped into absolute submission.

Thinking such thoughts in a holy place horrified him.

Manuel's voice wavered when he explained how he fled and threw himself onto his knees once in his apartment, praying to God for forgiveness and purification. He prayed for his thoughts to be taken away and purged, but no matter how much he invoked God, Jesus, Mary, and the saints, he felt they weren't listening and feared he was forsaken. And even in these prayers, it took everything he had to focus on his lamenting instead of succumbing to the intense lure of the Red Light District and the beautiful women that danced for his attention through the windows and doorways. The fruit, now candied, demanded consumption. His mouth watered for it, but he couldn't, absolutely couldn't, be seen on those streets again.

Manuel had to work up the courage to call when he found an online advertisement for your incall erotic services. He spent several evenings debating whether he should do it, his soul in shreds, longing for mending. The bishop almost begged you for help. He feared he would leave the order altogether if he didn't deal with his crisis. He needed to do it once. Just once. Money was no object. Hell, you didn't even have to have fuck him if you didn't want to. He was desperate.

You felt overwhelming sympathy for the man, so you booked a session for the following week. After briefly discussing what was wanted and your set of rules and requirements, Manuel said he would bring everything he needed to act out his fantasy; you only needed to provide the atmosphere and a small table strong enough to hold your weight.

Manuel showed up to his arrangement out of his vestments, no cassock, no priest's collar, not even a crucifix, just a sweater, pressed slacks, and dress shoes. Incognito. As you should have suspected. A black Volkswagen Beetle was parked a block down the road.

He was a handsome, somewhat portly man somewhere in his fifties. He had thick eyebrows and large brown eyes with an intense gaze. He was tall, too, reaching over six feet, appropriately imposing for a bigwig bishop. But despite his height and age, he seemed anxious standing outside your door, tugging at the collar of his sweater, and not looking you in the eye as he greeted you. He held a leather suitcase at his side.

"Hello, Father." You said, smiling kindly, "Come in. How was your drive? Not too hard to find the place, I hope?"

"Please, 'Manuel' is fine, my dear." He said, stepping into your home and taking off his shoes. "And the drive was fine, thank you. No trouble at all."

"Oh, good. Would you like some tea? Or coffee? I have a lovely cream of Earl Grey that I'm trying. I can make you a cup if you like."

"No. No, thank you." He replied, then took a deep breath to calm himself, "I'm sorry to be rude, but may we just--ah, may we just get to it? I don't want to take up too much of your time."

"Of course. Please, come with me." You nodded, then gestured for Manuel to follow you into the finished basement, where you converted the unused study into a playroom. Manuel grabbed his suitcase and followed you down the carpeted stairs into a sizeable lilac-colored space. Black and white photos of naked, bound men and women hung on the walls, framed in intricately carved frames like fine art. Erotic tapestries draped parts of the wall, adding to the luxurious feel with a purple rug. An array of tools used for sensual torture, whips, paddles, ball gags, leather masks, and other toys hung on the far wall. Then there was your prized possession sitting front and center: a five-foot-tall alabaster statue of a nude woman with long flowing hair cascading down her back—a nondescript goddess figure with open arms and a calm face with closed eyes. An art-collecting client gave her to you quite a few years ago. She was cute, and you were fond of her.

As discussed, you had pushed a coffee table into the center of the room, covering it with a white tablecloth like an altar. You situated the table facing the statue so it looked like the figure would be presiding over the session. Manuel had said he wanted the space set up like a temple, so you dimmed the lights and lit pillar candles around the room. Though the candles and lighting alone had seemed enough, you went further and took fake ivy and flowers to decorate your statue. You draped the ivy around her body, then twisted the stems of the flowers together to make a crown and placed it on her head. To finish off, you plucked the heads off the extra flowers and sprinkled them around the base at her feet, just for extra oomph.

The statue's serene face seemed almost alive in the candlelight, like she was merely meditating. Looking at her, you were happy with your setup.

"I don't have many religious things in my supplies, so I had to make do with what I had. I hope you don't mind." You said. When Manuel entered the room, he looked at the tools, the photos, and the statue, staring at her in amazement.

"No. It's perfect, thank you. Quite beyond my expectations, actually..." He said, his voice quivering for a second. His head tilted then, and he seemed to think, suddenly looking uncomfortable, troubled. You noticed he gripped the suitcase handle tight, his knuckles becoming white. His eyes became a little glassy, and you worried he might start crying.

"Are you alright?" You inquired and reached out to touch his arm. As soon as your fingers made contact, he jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. He nodded.

"Yes..." He said, then composed himself by clearing his throat and putting down his suitcase. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I-I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Don't apologize, hon. I understand. But don't worry, alright? I'll take good care of you, and if you want to stop, use the safeword like we discussed." You said, squeezing Manuel's arm. Manuel didn't speak for a moment, then he whispered.

"Do you believe in God? In sin?"

You blinked at him, taken aback.

No, absolutely not, you wanted to say. You never believed in the stuff. It was too limiting. Too old-fashioned and arbitrary. Why subject yourself to a religion and a god that frowns upon everything you ever do, no matter how harmless it is to others? Especially in such issues as sex, gender, and love.

But you thought that conversation hardly mattered at the moment, and it appeared Manuel wasn't looking for your view on the matter anyway. You could see him shaking. He was scared, probably stalling, and it saddened you to see it. It must have been hard for him to lead such a life as a holy man when he had this craving that lifelong tradition taught him was disgusting, even evil, when it wasn't. While his position in the church and lifelong dedication to scripture and faith were admirable to a degree, the fact of the matter was that he was just a man. A man with desires. Natural, human desires that were far from evil. And it must have been challenging to put everything aside to indulge in those cravings. The weight of the guilt must have been excruciating.

"No. I believe in human nature." You said softly. "But does that really matter right now? I'm not here to judge you, Manuel. It's not my place. And after everything you told me, I just want to help you. I don't think what you want to do is sinful. It's just sex, that's all. It's not hurting anyone, and we're both consenting, right? So I think it's all disco."

Manuel gave a pained smile and nodded. "Thank you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I just..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"It's alright. Just relax and enjoy yourself, okay?"

"Alright."

"Are you sure you still want to do this?" You asked.

"Yes." He said, wiping the corners of his eyes. He sighed and slumped his shoulders in what looked like defeat. Surrender. You felt like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. You knew the words anyway; you could see it in his eyes. I need to.

You nodded at him tenderly. Then he opened the suitcase to hand you a mantilla-style veil made from red lace. He had instructed you to wear it with whatever you wanted but no shoes so that he may kiss your feet.

"If you don't mind, please change in the other room and come back in. I want to get everything just right."

"No problem." You winked and turned to leave the room.

You entered the bathroom and stripped down to nothing except black crotchless panties and thigh-high stockings. It delighted you that you could choose whatever you wanted. It was a rare occurrence since many clients were very particular about play attire.

Manuel didn't ask for much when you asked what he wanted to enjoy during his session, just no shoes, the environment, and your power to dominate him. Otherwise, you could do whatever you wanted, a simple man with simple needs.

You selected a black PVC sheath dress with full-length sleeves that you purchased last week. It was skin-tight, and you had to smooth it until it was cleaving to you like a glove. Luckily, it was extremely short, barely covering your ass so you could move freely. It was also lowcut with the closing zipper in the front, and you left it slightly open at the top for just a glimpse of cleavage.

As you got ready, you started to smell incense smoke from the other room. It smelled familiar, something your old roommate used to burn back in university, earthy, sweet, and soft. Frankincense. Holy smoke, they liked to call it. You smiled, enjoying the smell as you beheld your reflection when you pinned the veil Manuel gave you into your hair, and you couldn't help but feel prideful in your appearance. You hoped Manuel would like it, too, as you exited the bathroom and re-entered the playroom.

Ghostly wisps of fragrant smoke swirled around the room, dancing around the flickering candle flames, creating an illusion of holiness. A temple of sacred sex and play. Now, that was a church meeting worth going to.

Manuel knelt on the floor, as far away from the objects and table as possible, clasping a rosary. He spoke his prayers softly under his breath. He didn't notice you come in, and you thought it would be rude to interrupt, so you watched him as he prayed. A bottle of wine was on the table, and a gold engraved chalice was beside it, gleaming bright even in the dim light. Beside him was a red heart-shaped dish with the smoldering resin, which you thought looked out of place and fit right in. It was almost funny seeing it used by someone like him. Finally, after a few moments of silent praying, he crossed himself.

"In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti..." He whispered, kissed the crucifix, and put it into his pocket.

"Manuel?"

Manuel's head snapped up. As soon as his eyes landed on you, they widened, and he took a sharp breath, immediately averting his gaze. The tips of his ears turned red.

"Manuel, are you ready?" You asked, approaching the table.

"Yes..." Manuel whispered and started to rise. At that instant, you shifted into professional mode.

"No." You said firmly and sat upon the altar. "You stay on your knees. And yes, what? Is that any way to address me?"

He froze momentarily, then went back onto his knees without protest.

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"You are to address me as 'my Lady' and obey my every word when you're in this room."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Good boy," you smiled and beckoned him over, opening your legs slightly to give him a peak of your sex. Manuel bit his lip, swallowing thickly. "Come to me. Greet me properly."

Manuel blushed but obeyed, crawling over and stopping at your feet. You lifted your foot, and Manuel leaned down and kissed it. He did it slowly, seeming to enjoy the action despite his shyness.

He pressed his lips to the top of your foot and the tips of your toes. They were tender, cautious pecks that bordered on hesitation, though he didn't stop.

"Aw, what a darling you are." You cooed. You reached down to caress the back of Manuel's neck. "Such a sweetie..."

He pressed his lips harder, more fervently at your touch and words, letting out quiet moans.

His shoulders relaxed, and he allowed himself to yield. He whispered between kisses now, silent praises that you couldn't quite hear.

His tongue darted out, licking your toes, and then he sucked them through the stocking. You giggled at the sensation of the tongue tickling you and let him continue until he dared to bring his lips up to your shin.

"Enough." You said, putting your foot back down. Manuel tried to follow it, but you leaned over and gripped his thick, dark hair. He winced as you tugged his head back up. "No, no, no, you do as I tell you. I'm your mistress and goddess now. You have no will here, just like you wanted, and I expect you to be a good slave. Do you understand?"

Manuel only whimpered and nodded in response, his eyes looking at you, half-lidded, unblinking, and clouded with lust. You let go of his hair and told him to kneel up. He did so immediately, keeping his arm at his sides. Excellent position, you thought. Already, his arousal was evident. His erection was straining against the material of his pants, standing at full attention. Good response, too.

"Repeat what I just said to you." You commanded.

Manuel shook, and his lips pressed together. He said nothing, and you frowned in disapproval. His cheeks burned pink, and his breath hitched under your gaze. Then, suddenly, you slapped his face hard enough to sting and get his attention. He gasped and looked a bit shocked. His erection, on the other hand, was stiffer than ever.

"Speak, Manuel. Answer me." You said, taking firm hold of his chin. He seemed to be on the verge of an outburst, barely containing his squirming as he finally whispered,

"Y-you're my mistress, my goddess...I have no will. And I will be a good slave for you."

You pinched his cheek, "Good boy."

Satisfied with his bodily response and knowing he was okay to continue, you gestured for Manuel to rise.

"Stand up and take off your clothes. All of them."

The blush on Manuel's face deepened as he stood, backed up, and pulled off his sweater, and there was his bare chest. Cute nipples, perhaps a little pale, but you could easily give them some color. You smiled at the prospect of it.

He had a soft, rounded belly, though he was pretty solid in the arms and broad in the shoulders. Combined with his height, you imagined he could throw you aside and overpower you without much effort.

You felt a rush of excitement commanding this man. And making him worship you made your sex stir.

Now his pants were down, and he was pulling off his socks. He hesitated briefly with his boxers, his fingers trembling at the waistband. He looked so virginal. The flush in his cheeks was lovely, and you wanted to kiss that rosy face.

"Boxers, too." You said, making sure to sound monotone. It wasn't good to be kind to him too soon. He had to earn it. "I want to see what you look like."

He glanced at you timidly before obeying. His cock stood rigid, surprisingly big and thick, the head shining and turning red. It was a decent organ, one of the nicer ones you've seen.

You stood as well and took a step towards him. You thought you saw him shrink back, saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. It immediately faded when you reached out and touched his chest, running the tips of your fingers down until you reached his stomach. You pressed both your hands into it, feeling the warm softness of his flesh, kneading it, enjoying it. Manuel sucked in a breath. His cock jumped when you pinched and squeezed him for your delight. You smiled, watching his attractive features work to express his bliss.

When you moved on and touched the head of his cock with your thumb and forefinger, Manuel gasped and involuntarily drew back.

"Hold still." You said, glancing up at him. "And put your hands behind your back. I want to examine you."

"Yes, my Lady," Manuel said meekly and obeyed. His head lowered, and he couldn't meet your gaze. He sighed and moaned when you took his cock in your hand and stroked it slowly from tip to base, feeling it harden even more in your grasp. His hips jerked, and his sighs became gasping when you griped a bit harder and stroked him faster. All the while, you watched his face. His eyes closed, and his mouth fell slightly open. You wondered if this was what rapture looked like, and you felt a jolt of pleasure seeing it.

After a moment of teasing, his hips began to rock against your hand, his breathing heavier, on the verge of panting.

You felt his cock twitch and become wet with precum.

"My Lady..." He gasped. "I-I'm close..."

You stopped stroking and allotted a series of spanks to his chest, striking his nipples. The slaps were hard and loud, and Manuel cried out.

"Not yet," You crooned and pinched his nipples, pulled them, tweaked them until he exclaimed in deep moaning breaths, "You can only come when I tell you to."

He begged with his body and a groan but tried to control it. His back arched, and his entire frame writhed. His lips spilled quiet pleas between moans. He gasped when you released his nipples and flicked them. His nipples awakened, becoming hard like bits of stone there, and you smiled, circling your thumbs around them. It drew enticing grunts from Manuel, each accompanied by a thrust of his hips.

His eyes opened once he caught his breath and looked at you, showing complete submission in their softness.

"Ooh, that was quick, wasn't it," You teased, "you're like a virgin, almost coming before we even get started."

He turned red, and you giggled.

"You're cute," you said, your hands returning to rub his stomach, "I bet those nuns you talked about want to fuck you, dominate you like I am right now. And I bet you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? You'd obey them like a little puppy."

"Yes, my Lady. I would." Manuel said without pride, without dignity. "I'd be devoted to them."

"You show your devotion to me first." You said sternly and continued to fondle his softness while you pondered what he could do for you. You recalled how he described being bent over and whipped over the church altar, and it sounded like a pretty good idea. You took your hands away from Manuel. His dreamy eyes watched you, waiting for your word.

You stepped aside, pointing at the table.

"Bend over your goddess's altar."

As Manuel went to obey, his hands shaking uncontrollably, you continued in a calm but steely voice:

"I'm going spank you, Manuel. And I'm going to do it hard. But I don't think you'll mind one bit. After all, that's exactly what you want, right?"

On his knees and leaning over the table, Manuel nodded his head.

"Do you want my hand or the paddle? I'll be nice and give you the choice."

"Your hand, my Lady, please." He said without thought. You gave an approving hum.

"Good pick. I'm glad you're making this fun for me. I love working with my hands."

Manuel shivered when you got down on your knees behind him. You ran your hand over his broad back, prodding around his hips and thighs. The flesh there was soft, too. You grinned, hearing him exclaim as you grabbed his buttocks with both hands and squeezed and kneaded it like you did his belly.

"You're so soft." You said, then slapped his ass playfully, "I like it. I believe that bodies like yours are the best to play with. You ought to be proud of that, you know."

"Thank you, my Lady." Manuel whispered, barely audible, "I'm happy I can please you."

"Oh, you're gonna have to speak up, pet. Or I won't be able to hear you over this." You reeled back your hand and slapped his right buttock hard, catching him by surprise. The force of the slap caused his hips to sway, and a cry flew from his mouth before he could stop it. The handmark was white at first, then bright red.

You gave the mark a barrage of weaker slaps that caused Manuel to gasp and cry out as if you used full force. When you switched sides, you spanked him hard again. Manuel cried aloud and writhed on the table. He clutched at the cloth and tried to silence himself by burying his face in the crook of his arm. It proved futile, his exclamations growing louder with each continuing strike, a whine or two peppered in like a delectable seasoning.

You looked up at your goddess statue while you spanked Manuel. She looked so alive then, and it was a shame she wasn't getting any attention.

You then stopped and massaged Manuel's sore flesh. His entire body shivered, and his hips undulated in a vain attempt to gain some stimulation. His breathing was ragged, and he whimpered as soon as your blows ceased.

"Head up, Manuel," You said, "Look up at my statue. Take her in."

Manuel immediately obeyed. You heard him sniffle, and his hand went to wipe his face.

"She's pretty, isn't she."

"Yes, my Lady." His voice was uneven and shaky. "She's beautiful."

"I think she might be a bit lonely, wouldn't you agree?" You took your hands away and stood, "Go and kiss her. Kiss her mouth, then her breasts and feet. Then I want you to fetch me the flowers on the floor. Use your teeth to bring them."

"Y-yes, my Lady." He said and went into his hands and knees, commencing his task.

You leaned down to give his bottom a quick slap as he went and laughed when he yelped and scurried towards the statue.

You rounded the table and sat upon it, facing Manuel. You took the bottle of wine and chalice, opened the twist top, and filled your cup high. It was red and sweet-smelling, and you thought of sacramental wine when you took a sip. You licked your lips. The blood of Christ tasted expensive.

At the feet of the statue, Manuel knelt up to press his lips to the cold, stony mouth twice before descending to the breasts. He kissed each nipple gently. You felt a warmth rise in your breasts when you heard him moan and caught his hips twitching at the act. Finally, he kissed her feet. Despite his stature, he lowered himself slowly and quietly with the gracefulness of a cat. With his face flaming, Manuel took a flower between his teeth and turned to you. You moved back and spread your legs, tapping the area in front of your sex.

"Meow," You called to him, "Here, kitty, kitty,"

Manuel came to you with his head bowed and dropped the flower on the table. His large brown eyes flicked up at you as he kissed your knee, seeking your approval with a questioning look. You beamed at him for being so good. Kindness was now due.

You reached down, cupped his cheek, and lovingly stroked it with your thumb. Manuel took your affection with a shuddering sigh.

"You're doing good, Manuel." You said and kissed his head. His hair was soft against your face and smelled clean with the fading spice of cologne.

"Thank you, my Lady." He kissed your knee again.

"Alright, off you go." You ruffled his hair. Manuel nodded, then turned to bring another blossom. His bottom was still red, and you watched it, taking another sip of wine.

Manuel placed the flowers before you one by one, each time planting a devoted kiss on your inner thigh, coming closer and closer to your sex. But before he could kiss your pubis, you brushed the flowerheads onto the floor and placed the wine bottle between your legs. Now blocked, Manuel sat on his heels. He pressed his lips to the bottle almost desperately, breathing hard, lapping his tongue on the glass, and mewling at the denial.

You caressed the bottle's neck in long, slow strokes like it was a phallus, looking down at him, a cheeky smile playing on your lips. Manuel pulled back and brought his gaze to you once he composed himself. His lips were wet with saliva. The cupid's bow was wonderfully curved, and the just as shapely bottom lip trembled. Lips weren't always something you often noticed in men, but now that you saw them, you loved them.

You touched your fingers to the mouth, pinching the plump lips and probing between them with your thumb.

Manuel opened his mouth, letting you stick your thumb into it. When the eager lips closed on it, you withdrew it slightly, then pushed it back in. You did this repeatedly until Manuel started to moan and suck it. Your lust rose in pitch, feeling his tongue swirl around your thumb, and your nipples were hardening beneath the tight material of your dress.

You let a sigh pass your lips, and before you could get lost in the moment, you withdrew your thumb from Manuel's mouth completely. His breathing was uneven, and his cock twitched between his trembling, parted legs. You rubbed your thumb against his lips.

"Such a hungry little mouth," You said, taking your hand away and pushing the bottle towards him, "Have those pretty lips ever sucked a cock before?"

Manuel shook his head. He bit his lip, and it appeared he already knew what you would command.

"Do you want to please your goddess?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what to do." You said, lifting the chalice to continue sipping the wine you had poured, "Do it slowly, for my pleasure."

Manuel breathed deep, then licked the length of the bottle's neck before he took it into his mouth. He caressed it with his tongue and lips awkwardly. At first, Manuel didn't take the glass shaft very far. He struggled, gagging and coughing when he attempted to take it further at your urging. He gasped but didn't pull away from the bottle, continuing to try to suck it after taking a gulp of air.

"Breathe through your nose." You said, petting his hair, and he stopped retching once he followed your instructions, "There you go."

Soon, Manuel fell into a rhythm, his head bobbing up and down on it. Every once in a while, he probed the bottle's mouth with his tongue, teasing it for you, then sucking it again with sensual enthusiasm.

All you did was take up the chalice and drink, lust curling tight inside you. You felt your sex grow wet upon hearing Manuel groan around the bottle. His hips stirred, but his hands didn't dare touch you or himself. The submissive bishop stopped when you said that was enough.

But Manuel didn't wait for you to give him another order. Instead, he threw his arms around you and kissed all over your chest, their presence lingering and frantic. His fingers dug into you, all but clawing as he kissed the tops of your breasts, licking at the pillowy flesh. You gasped when a hand pawed at your breast and squeezed hard.

Manuel ascended to your neck and jaw at your utterance, kissing and nuzzling his face there. His breath was hot, panting. The feeling of his mouth kissing and suckling the skin sent shivers up your spine. You arched your back and set down your cup, narrowly avoiding spilling it.

"Manuel-!" You exclaimed. You grasped at his hands, meaning to calm him. His entire body stiffened when you touched him. He let out an anguished sound and ripped himself away, bursting into tears. However, instead of breaking the fantasy, he hurried to kiss the hem of your veil in reverence.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Manuel whispered into the fabric, into your ear, "Please punish me, my Lady. I deserve it. Please, please..."

You froze, stunned by what just happened.

Again, Manuel didn't dare touch you; he only clutched the veil, wracked by quiet, hiccuping sobs. You felt a tear drop onto your chest and another, and for a moment, you had no idea what to do or say. The large man trembled before you like a lost child, sniffling, his shoulders drooping low. It unleashed an overwhelming sense of pity in you. Poor thing.

"Manuel..." You said, and slowly, very slowly, you took him by the shoulders and had him sit on his heels. Then, you put the wine bottle aside. His sobbing had calmed once you had him kneeling.

The look on his face betrayed his silence, his cheeks stained with tears that continued flowing, and his beautiful eyes twinkled in the warm candlelight—two deep pools of misery and adoration.

You brushed his hair from his forehead, then cupped his cheek, which he leaned into, shaking.

"Do you want to keep going?" You asked gently. "Do you remember the safeword?"

"Yes," He sniffled. Then, without skipping a beat, "Please. Don't stop."

His deep voice was soft, without doubt or fear. His complete submission shifted into complete trust, and it felt good to have it.

Manuel was so consumed with red-hot desire that he once again spoke, this time with great eagerness, "Slap me again, my Lady. Like earlier." He blushed at his bold request, then bowed his head in apology.

You laughed lightheartedly.

"You like it rough, huh? Let me see your cheek then."

He obeyed and braced for your strike. You pulled back your hand and slapped him hard. The resounding crack jerked his head slightly, and he hissed in pain mixed with pleasure. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You struck him again without warning, and he whimpered. You took it further by grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulling him to kneel up, and kissing him hard. You bit his lip. He gasped, and when his mouth opened, you stabbed your tongue into it. He returned the kiss, his lips so soft and velvety against yours.

He moaned loudly when you yanked his head back and kissed his Adam's apple and jaw. You bit at him, licked at the salty skin, then smacked his chest and belly until he was pink. Manuel writhed, imploring you for more.

"Harder! Please!"

But you let go of his hair and sat him on his heels again. It surprised you how much he enjoyed the pain, how he was greedy for it. If he wanted it harder, you were happy to oblige. You looked over at the wall, eyeing the paddles and thinking about which one to use.

Manuel protested, and you shooshed him, giving him a sharp look.

"It's not over yet. Be patient." You said curtly and frowned, though you felt no anger. It was all for show. Manuel bit his lip and nodded, looking like a scolded puppy anyway.

You took up the chalice, filled it to the top, and held it to his lips.

"Here. Drink. We'll keep going in a second." You said, petting his hair. Manuel nodded, and after he drank his fill, just a couple of gulps, you gripped his chin and kept his mouth to the chalice when he tried to move away. "Nope. Keep drinking. Don't stop until there isn't a drop left."

You tiled the chalice higher and higher, at the same time leaning Manuel's head back. Despite Manuel swallowing as much as he could, the liquid overflowed, spilling down the corners of his mouth and over his chin. Wine dribbled down his neck, chest, and belly, streaking like blood. He continued to drink as much as possible, and you only released him when the chalice was empty. You tossed it aside. Manuel coughed and gasped for air. He thanked you, wiping his mouth, then waited for your command obediently. Much of the wine got onto the rug, but that didn't bother you. The wet vacuum would get that right out once the session was over. In the meantime, you ordered Manuel to crawl over to the wall and fetch you a leather heart-shaped paddle.

Manuel trembled in either fear or excitement when he delivered the paddle and leaned down to kiss your feet. You received them, lifting your foot to his lips. They were sweet and feverish, becoming even more so when you tested the paddle against your palm. Perfect.

"Lay on your back." You ordered.

Manuel did so with a nod and a "Yes, my Lady" and spread out on his back. His body stretched to its full length, though he did attempt to keep his legs bent until you cracked the paddle against your palm again and gave him a sharp order to spread them. You got up and moved over to him, relishing how his eyes held yours and his lips quivered.

You stepped over and mounted him, deliberately straddling his hips. His entire body shivered under you as soon as you moved to adjust comfortably. You wondered if he felt how wet your sex was, how hot it was because of him, or if he was too lost in his passion to notice. Manuel bit his lip hard and kept his hands to his sides. The flesh on his chest was soft, too, making it ideal for you to do what you pleased. You set down the paddle, reached down with both hands, grabbed, and played with his pectorals like you would a pair of breasts. Manuel struggled to contain himself and winced when you squeezed tight.

"Lovely. It's a shame I didn't break out any of my nipple clamps." You purred, still playing with the flesh, "They'd make you look so pretty."

You took hold of and stretched both nipples and snapped them, then did it again. You played with them and rubbed them. Manuel couldn't keep still under you or stay quiet. His hips squirmed, rocking slightly without meaning to, sucking in a shuddering breath and unleashing a whispered string of "fuck"s as you tweaked and squeezed them.

"Do you like that?" You asked, taking hold of his nipples and twisting them almost cruelly. Manuel arched his back and groaned in pleasure.

"Yes, my Lady!" He cried.

You laughed and released him.

"I didn't think you would be such a slut for pain. Nothing wrong with that, though. It's very endearing."

You took up the paddle and showed it to him.

"So, what do you think, Manuel? Is this fine enough to inflict the pain you want so badly?"

Manuel kissed it as an answer.

You smiled and brought down the paddle on his chest in a series of loud spanks. First, you struck one side, then the other. Manuel gasped and cried aloud upon impact, unable to contain it. His chest bloomed a charming shade of pink, leaving marks vaguely shaped like hearts, much to your delight. His nipples hardened to knots, and his face tightened in pain. He struggled not to thrash by digging his fingers into the rug and throwing his head from side to side.

"Come on, Manuel, arch your back for me. I want your tits raised for the paddle." And on you spanked once Manuel obeyed, his chest flushing crimson and heaving as he gasped and cried.

You tormented him further by concentrating your blows to one side. At the same time, you bunched the flesh of the other pec and kneaded it roughly. Manuel grew louder, and his body twisted when you switched sides. His face was the perfect picture of anguish and ecstasy.

Then, he was undone when you paused and leaned down to suckle upon the abused nipples, rocking your hips against him as you did so. He cried against clenched teeth as you licked his nipple and bit it playfully. Manuel was in a frenzy when he let out a choked sob between desperate, keening moans. His hands clamped your shoulders, his back arching.

"Mango!" He wailed the safeword.

Immediately, you stopped and straightened. Manuel stayed on his back, shaking, eyes closed, his breath coming in ragged pants. His dark lashes were matted with tears. You wanted to lean down and taste them, but you refrained and rubbed his belly while waiting for him to recover, praising and soothing him. The skin was smooth and hot under your hands, and you bit your lips as you let your eyes wander over him. Beautiful, beautiful skin. You trailed your hand down and let it brush over the head of his cock.

Manuel's eyes, softened and glassy, opened with heavy lids and gave a faint, supplicating moan as he looked up at you.

You've been a wonderful pet this evening, Manuel." You said. "Do you want your goddess to reward you?"

Manuel hissed and moaned under you.

"Ohh, yes." His large hands gripped your thighs, "Yes, please."

You raked your fingernails along the shaft, lightly pinching the tip before taking it with a firm hand and stroking it. The long-awaited stimulation almost seemed too much for poor Manuel. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a throaty growl that quickly dissolved into a loud whimper. His hips moved to meet your strokes with the shamelessness of a whore. Powerful fingers dug into the tender flesh of your thighs, though it was not enough to hurt you. In fact, you liked it. Your lust pooled down to your groin, and Manuel's sensual moans and gasps made your nipples throb unbearably. It took a lot to resist the urge to fuck his brains out, but the condoms were upstairs, and retrieving them would spoil the mood. And you lived by a golden rule: no condom, no fun. So, no fun it was, at least for tonight.

You stopped stroking and slapped the organ, drawing out a surprised but pleasured cry.

"You're pretty well endowed," You said, massaging his balls now. "It's a shame I didn't bring any condoms down here since I changed my mind about fucking you. But we'll have to wait until next time, won't we?"

Manuel whined as if to lament this fact. He looked up at you, his gaze like a drunken man's. His hazy eyes lowered and lingered on your breasts. His hands moved to your waist, no doubt wanting to trail higher, and he whispered the word "please" over and over, like a mantra, staring at your chest all the while.

"Are they pretty?" You asked. You touched the zipper of your dress.

"Yes." He said, breathless. His hands squeezed at you. Amused by his desperation, you unzipped just enough to expose them.

"Suck on them." You said, pushing them out proudly.

Manuel bolted upright as soon as the words left your lips, and his mouth fixed over your right nipple hungrily, almost aggressively. His hands clawed at your back as he suckled, releasing deep moans against your skin. You shivered in pleasure. A small moan escaped your lips when Manuel latched upon your other breast, sucking just as hard.

Your body felt electrified and quickly brimmed with sensation. You sighed as Manuel nibbled at your nipple, kissed it, and licked it. His cock pulsed like a heartbeat against you, and you slipped your hand down to grip it again and stroke it. Your hand worked quickly this time, squeezing tight so a drop of precum dribbled from the tip, making the shaft slicker in your hand as you caressed him. Manuel pulled away from your chest and moaned aloud. You didn't slow your hand or stop, stimulating Manuel until his cries became hoarse and unmodulated.

He slipped his arms around you and pulled you close, though you could still work his shaft. His breaths came in short, frantic pants on your neck.

"Sí, sí," He moaned. "Fuck, yes."

Now intent on your task, you stroked him faster, enjoying how the warm fluid coated your fingers and palm.

"Come for me." You said. Manuel's whole body stiffened and clutched you close, crying out in ecstasy. His arms crushed you to his chest, and he buried his face between your breasts as the orgasm rolled through him. His cock convulsed in your grip, and semen erupted from it, spilling over your hand and onto his stomach. Manuel's voice broke at the height of passion, and his moans melted into whines, then whimpers as they ebbed away. His arms loosened around you, but he didn't let go, not even when he caught his breath. Instead, he sat still, sighing and nuzzling your chest, and then he slowly released you, looking drowsy as he stared at you. He smothered your face, neck, and shoulders with tender kisses, his lips whispering his gratitude. Honey dripped from his words, and you wished you could taste it. Or have him taste you; your sex was certainly ripe enough. But, forgoing the satisfaction of your lust, you accepted his sleepy affection in his afterglow, returning it by stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.

"I'm sorry about your rug." You heard him say. You looked over at the forgotten wine stains and laughed. It was kind laughter, coming light, and amused. It put Manuel at ease, and he laughed too.

"Don't worry. It's just wine. Easy to get out." You shook your head, smiling. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, of course I did." He said, kissing your breast. "You were wonderful."

"Good. Only the best for my clients. How about we go upstairs for a drink? You must be thirsty. Wine isn't much of a thirst quencher." You smiled, then gave his hair a cheerful tousle, "C'mon, I even have some kombucha if you like..."

You moved to climb off Manuel's lap, but he tightened his arms around you again.

"Can we..." He started to say but trailed off and blushed.

"Hm?" You inquired.

"Can we stay here?" He asked. "Just for a little bit? I don't think I want to leave just yet."

Your heart melted at his innocent request. You decided you liked this man and hoped your time with him satisfied his fixation, that he would stay on his path if he decided that was best for him. You hoped most of all that he would feel less shame for his human and very understandable desires.

Plus, it was always nice to book an affectionate client. You enjoyed cuddles, too.

"Of course." You beamed at him. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you close after taking the veil from your head to clean himself up.

You both stayed there for a while, embracing, with Manuel resting his head against your chest. He rocked you in his arms, occasionally asking little questions about your life. You answered honestly, and you felt safe doing so. Something about Manuel made you feel comfortable.

Half an hour later, the two of you finally decided to retire for the evening. After getting dressed and Manuel gathered his things, the two of you lingered at the door, wishing each other a good night.

Manuel seemed reluctant to leave still, stating that he wished he could stay longer for that cup of tea you offered, but, unfortunately, work beckoned him back home.

"Well," You said, "Maybe we can meet up again, yeah? It doesn't have to be an appointment or anything. We could sit and have coffee; maybe I can fix a nice lunch. Not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty damn good quiche."

"That sounds very nice, actually," He said, chuckling. Then he took your hand and stroked it lovingly, "And I would love to see you again."

"Sounds like a date, then." You nodded.

Manuel finally turned to leave, strolling down the driveway until he turned on his heel, came back fast, and threw his arms around you. He kissed you for a long moment, long, luxurious kisses that you returned without restraint.

"So, I'll see you?" You asked when the kiss ended.

"I'll see you." He nodded.

After a final round of goodbyes, you went inside and watched his little black car sail down the darkened road through the living room window. You went to bed late that night, though you didn't fall asleep. You tossed and turned, bothered by lustful musings about Manuel that refused to stop until you slipped your fingers inside your hot sex. Recalling the size of his cock, you imagined him thrusting into you, slowly at first, then as the pleasure built, the images changed into frenzied fucking. You worked your fingers in an almost punishing rhythm to match, and when you came, you screamed his name, your starved sex pulsing around your fingers. After exhausting yourself, you finally fell into sleep's peaceful embrace, cuddling your pillow close.

All of that happened two months ago.

The last of your coffee was cold at the bottom of your cup when you came out of your recollection and looked at the clock—11:35 PM. You expected Manuel sometime soon, and you couldn't help but wonder what he desired for this session. It would be the sixth time you've booked him following the promised lunch date, during which the two of you talked for hours about each other, and the more conversation went on, the more you liked the holy man. He was just as sweet, polite, and passionate in the mundane as in the playroom, where he abandoned himself to complete servitude. He obeyed your every word and responded perfectly to every thrash and spank you dealt. He was a joy, and he became more and more adventurous each time. Manuel rarely opposed anything, giving you absolute control over the games you played. He endured a sound flogging while you role-played as an alluring whore nun; He scurried around on his hands and knees on a leash, barking like a dog on command; You edged him while bound with rope and blindfolded. He even showed a keen interest in pegging. However, you two had yet to indulge in that.

You raised from the recliner, placed your mug on the coffee table, and peeked through the curtains again. The moon was nearly full, hanging high and bright in the sky among the stars. They looked like shards of diamonds to you, cast upon inky velvet. You marveled at its beauty until a pair of headlights penetrated the darkness. You smiled, and your heart skipped when Manuel's little black Beetle pulled into your driveway.

You whirled towards the door, feeling the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

Then, the heaviness of the whole situation settled itself on your shoulders, and not for the first time. So many times, you contemplated your relationship with Manuel. Being the holy man he was, a familiar creeping thought wriggled in your head: Were you corrupting him? The idea was troubling, and the inevitable guilt flowed over you, thick and clinging like oil. You often felt somehow unclean, even though that wasn't what you believed. But you allowed what Manuel told you to wash you clean.

He called you not long after your first session, and his tone was merry and infectious, so different from when he first spoke to you. Manuel told you now that he acknowledged his desires; the difference in his life was like day and night. He could sleep well again, pray again, and tackle his work with renewed vigor and without distraction. It was like his despair disappeared that night, replaced not with guilt or self-loathing as he expected but with warmth and comfort like the arms of a Holy Mother.

"I know this isn't what you believe," He said, then went silent for a second before whispering, "But I think I was led to you to show me my humanity again. Maybe by Mary, perhaps another. Who the hell even knows anymore? Either way, blasphemy or not, it's taught me a lot, and it feels good to have no guilt for what I did." He sighed, "...Thank you for giving me a chance."

He sounded happy, so very, very happy.

Those words alone cleansed you as soap and water would. And just like that, guilt was such a ridiculous thing to feel.

A knock came at the door, and you went to answer it, humming a cheerful tune to yourself.

#Molina-verse #Manuel Aringarosa #the da vinci code #fanfiction #self insert #self shipping #lee's writing #smut #alfred molina #priest kink

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lexlightning2002 · 2 years

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The wrong universe

Part one

Peter managed to sent all of the villains back home, but something went terribly wrong. Instead of going back to his universe, Otto again woke up in a New York he didn't know. He was able to find an abandoned floor in an old skyscraper to hide from this new world. Until he was surprised by someone...

Part 2

Hello my folks! I recently came up with a whole new idea and I hope you'll like it! I noticed the lack of Otto x Norman Comics and therefore I had an idea ;D

#otto octavius #doc ock #dr octavius #alfred molina #comic idea #spiderman no way home #post nwh au #fanart #otto x norman #octoblin #ottoborn #octogoblin #fanfiction

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myveryownfanfiction · 4 months

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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery (thanks for the idea), @cassieuncaged, @freddiefredfive, @writingkitten, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @verysmolnerd, @ghostlypie

warnings: menstruation, swearing

I woke with a groan. I tried rolling onto my stomach, pressing my hips into the mattress to try to alleviate the pain. I groaned as I was ripped from the last visages of sleep. Otto appeared in the doorway and the actuators moved towards me.

“what wrong?” Otto asked, concern dripping from his voice. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” I groaned. “Just my period trying to kill me.” Otto came over and sat down next to me. Gently brushing away my hair, Otto leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t have anything here for you except for some painkillers.” Otto murmured. I nodded.

“I can go home.” I offered. “Might be better anyway. First day is always the worst.”

“it’s fine.” Otto tried to assure me. “I can go shopping. It’s no big deal. Let me take care of you darling.” I nodded and Otto got up to grab the painkillers for me. I sat up slowly before taking them. Otto helped me lay back down once I was done and kissed me softly.

“still hurts like a son of a bitch.” I groaned as I maneuvered into a slightly more comfortable position.

“I’m sure it does sweetheart.” Otto said, brushing my hair back again. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Otto kissed my head again and stood up. “Love you.”

“love you too.” I said before he left the apartment. I drifted in and out of sleep while waiting for him to come back. Before I knew it, Otto was climbing back into bed with me. The actuators wrapped around me gently as Otto kissed my shoulder. “Hey.”

“hi.” He murmured. “I got pads for you. And a heating pad. The actuators kept giving me suggestions so there’s a lot of candy in there too. And a couple plushies. And a blanket.” Otto listed off. I laughed and went to turn around in his arms with flos help. “And a new travel mug I thought you would like. And some more plushies.” I kissed him and cupped his cheek.

“you’re really sweet you know that Otto?” I asked. Otto blushed. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” I snuggled into Otto’s side. He held me and whispered sweet nothings to me as I slowly drifted off again.

#otto octavius #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius fanfic #Otto Octavius fanfiction #Otto octavius imagine #Alfred molina #alfred Molina x reader #Alfred Molina fanfic #alfred Molina fanfiction #alfred Molina imagine #monthly series

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obeydontstray · 2 months

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Dr. Harding Hooten has a strange request for his wife.

Reader insert, all fluff.

tw: mentions of infertility.

#monday mornings #Harding Hooten #Dr. Harding Hooten #Alfred Molina fanfiction

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movieexpert1978 · 2 months

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Crescendo - Chapter 5 - movieexpert1978 - Matador (TV 2014) [Archive of Our Own]

Final chapter is up for my Andres Galan story. I'm sorry it took so long. I've just been really struggling with writing lately and don't have any inspiration/ideas. There is domestic violence in this chapter.

#fanfiction #alfred molina #fanfic #andres galan #andres galan x oc #matador

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antifictionsfiction · 2 years

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Worth the Free Admission - Part 4/5

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Fandom: Children’s Theater Critic with Alfred Molina

Pairing: Arthur H. Cartwright x gn!reader

Rating: T

Chapter summary: An evening spent in Arthur’s apartment leads to a series of (maybe not so) unexpected discoveries.

Warnings/tags: mention of weight/self image issues, a brief mention of fat shaming, age difference, insecurity, mutual pining, tension

Chapter word count: 4953

A/N: As always, the gif was created by @scorsesedepalmafan - thank you so much ❤ And many thanks to @castanierprosper for helping me resolve some plot issues 😁

Once Arthur put his self-doubt aside for a while, the work was starting to pick up pace the way you had envisioned. The two of you had managed to solve the issue with the third act in two evenings, snuffing out your creative block like it had never been there in the first place.

After the second evening spent brainstorming in your apartment, you had mutually agreed on making this a regular course of action after the lessons. Your initial question regarding Arthur’s presence at the performance back in December was clarified when you found out he lived in a nearby town, less than a forty-minute drive away. That made your afternoons extending into evenings manageable for him, though you would be lying if you claimed you weren’t curious about his home and lifestyle. Both were still something of a mystery to you, not that it had never occurred to you to ask.

Although he had been inquiring about your own life plenty lately, he would usually brush off your questions with highly unsatisfying answers, telling you there was hardly any dimension to his life beyond his work. You had made it your mission to coax him to take off this whole complex mask for good. The man you were getting to know had far too many layers, far too much emotion, and conversations with him were far too stimulating for someone who should spend every waking hour absorbed in work.

You figured the time had come for you to try to open him up some more about a month after your impromptu shared emotional moment (that Arthur hadn’t mentioned once since, as was to be expected). He had missed one rehearsal due to his imperative presence at a children’s theatre festival in Cleveland, and you used this as an opportunity to invite yourself over to his place. He had done the same thing to you after all.

He accepted your arguments such as the playful reproach that 2:0 still wasn’t an altogether balanced ratio of hospitality or the fact that he would have to drive back home anyway. Not only did he not fret at your request, it was him who suggested you come with him in his car and stay the night in his guest bedroom instead of driving back in your beaten-down old car after dark. He even promised to give you a lift back to work the next day. Not once in your life had you planned a sleepover with a fifty-something children’s theatre critic you used to dislike immensely. But truth be told, you had fantasized about it a couple times over the past month.

You couldn’t recall feeling as safe with any driver as you felt with Arthur. He played an Arvo Pärt symphony on the built-in car speakers and told you little anecdotes from the Cleveland festival, while you made sure to check out the view outside your window occasionally, instead of ogling him the entire time like a madman.

The source of your infatuation with him was hard to place, all you knew was that each time you met him you found yourself drawn to a new detail, no matter how small. At the current rate you would soon find the way his hand moved when he wrote down some notes attractive. Or maybe you had gotten to this stage already, you thought, watching him in strange fascination as he fought to unlock his front door momentarily, pushing into it with his shoulder.

His apartment on the second floor of a large family house fulfilled your expectations to a certain degree – Arthur wasn’t wealthy, but he was clearly making enough to afford a full set of sturdy wooden furniture, an extensive library and a cosy office. He showed you the office with pride, the cut-outs of his printed reviews covering the walls, the vintage typewriter, the meticulously sorted collection of plays filling a dedicated separate bookshelf.

“What’s your impression? Of the office,” Arthur asked as you scanned the reviews behind glass frames, with all the bold titles and Arthur’s name printed below in an equally bold lettering.

“I see all those years of hard work you’ve put into this,” you replied earnestly, turning to face him again. There was bewilderment behind his smile, his eyelids fluttering.

“I thought you were opposed to my work,” he said quietly.

“Arthur, you know that’s not what my objections were about. I respect what you do, I always have.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you – for being frank with me, I feel like nobody else has ever been, not after I gained some recognition at least. Everybody’s so afraid of the critic,” he shook his head, gesturing towards some of the most raging reviews on display.

“And rightfully so, I was so terrified of what you had written about our play that I never even found the courage to look it up. The review wasn’t one for display then, I guess?” your tone was light. You believed you had gotten over it to the degree where reading the review wouldn’t hurt your feelings too badly. You even hoped Arthur would lay it onto you right now, produce his stash of reviews and then you could both laugh about it and how far you’d come.

“I never published it.”

“Oh. I get it, nobody even knows about my class, why would anyone bother reading a review of our play?” You had to admit you were actually relieved and you didn’t question Arthur’s decision, knowing how busy he was. But he wasn’t done yet. He opened a desk drawer and took out a thick leather-bound notebook. Then he sat heavily on the edge of a divan that stood opposite the wall of reviews, the most bougie piece of furniture in the entire apartment, and asked you to take a seat next to him. You did, trying to cover the pleasant shudder when your leg brushed his as you were sitting down.

The divan wasn’t small in itself, but it wasn’t made to accommodate two people, especially when one of them was Arthur. Even fully seated, your leg was near-fully pressed against his, even when you brought your knees together. Arthur didn’t remain unaffected by the sudden closeness either, he shifted in his seat and fidgeted with his glasses hanging from his breast pocket. Nevertheless, he didn’t do anything to widen the gap between you, even though his legs certainly didn’t need to rest so far apart.

“No, take a look at this,” Arthur’s voice felt a little breathy as he leafed through the notebook. He stopped on an entry dated December 20th 2012 – the page was almost empty, except for three short, almost illegible notes.

“This is all I wrote about your play. I meant to publish a review, they would have gladly printed it, debuts tend to be popular. But when I sat down to write that night, I thought about what you’ve told me.” He wasn’t looking at you, instead he was tracing the words on the page with his finger mindlessly, “And I was full on convinced you were just bitter because I hated the performance, but then again, you had invited me to watch your rehearsals, be part of the process…” His eyes finally lifted up to you and now you were the one to look away, the proximity becoming too apparent with your faces just over a foot away from each other.

“What I want to say is… Please, look at me,” he asked softly and you willed your gaze to settle back on him.

“I thought about the process, about what you’d said about learning from each other. God, I didn’t want to believe I had something to learn from you even for a second. But what I write has weight, it can start a career or end it, and I just couldn’t- do that to you before seeing you learn. Blame my ego for that, but I believed I could ‘make’ you, that there was so much I could teach you. Turns out it was the other way around all along. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this - so happy I was wrong,” he reached out and cradled your hands resting in your lap in his, stroking them with his thumbs almost tenderly.

“Arthur, I don’t know what to say.” You were so overwhelmed by his confession and the sensations of his skin touching yours, of his comforting body heat, the way his gaze was undoubtedly fixed on your lips now.

“I don’t know what I was hoping you would say. I just… wanted you to know. That I value what you’ve done for me.”

“Arthur.” God, you hated how pleading that sounded, but then again, that’s what you were doing. Asking for a confirmation that you weren’t just stuck in your head and reading his signals wrong, that he wanted you to make a move. Just a few words, that’s all it would take for you to pour all your affection, all the yearning into a kiss, an embrace, anything that would allow you to hold him close to you and forget about professionality or authority or age.

Despite your doubts, you were almost sure what he wanted with his softened gaze and flushed cheeks. You tilted your head upwards and allowed your eyes to close, giving him the clearest of hints. You heard a sharp inhale as he gave your hands folded in your lap an awkward pat and stood up abruptly. When you opened your eyes, confused, he was already turned away from you, rummaging through his table drawers again.

You called his name for the second time, finding it impossible to disguise the disappointment and embarrassment. Had you really fallen for your own fantasies so deeply that you projected them onto him? But since he didn’t turn around all the way to look at you when you spoke to him and the deep blush still hadn’t retreated from his face, the tension had been far from imaginary. Before you got the chance to ask him what he was doing, he hurried to give you an explanation that was far from satisfactory:

“I just remembered I’ve written extensive notes for the final scene, and I have some revisions I need to consult with you. Ah, there we go,” he stood up with a thick file in his hand, passing it over to you with a smile, though his eyes struggled to meet yours. You muttered a feeble ‘thanks’ and waited for him to go on.

“You are welcome to take the revisions or leave them, of course. But I believe they might help strengthen the weakest points. I’ve forgotten to write this down, but I also might suggest substituting some of Emily’s lines with physical actions. Anything to disrupt the flat, beige drudgery of her line delivery. But let’s sit down and go over all the fine details in the living room. There’s more, uhm… More space there.” His speech felt unusually rushed, nothing like the firm, composed way of speaking you associated him with. The same could be said about his hasty exit, as if he was afraid any hesitation would lead to you asking questions he wasn’t up to answering. Questions that were hanging in the thick air between the two of you, even as you trailed after Arthur into the living room.

He seemed to relax somewhat once you started working through his notes, though you couldn’t help but worry all the progress you had made with him had just been shattered by your idealistic misinterpretation.

---

As you lied in the smallest bed that could still be sold as a double, a thought kept popping into your head: you shouldn’t have stayed. It had been part politeness, part hope that had kept you here. Instead of leaving, you had let yourself suffer through a dinner with Arthur. Not that the food or the conversation was unpleasant in any way, in fact Arthur had surprised you with his culinary skill. It was the painful mutual reluctance to address the elephant in the room that had made the evening almost unbearable for you.

It baffled you that Arthur hadn’t been the one to politely ask you to leave earlier. If you weren’t so upset with yourself for your speculations, you would wonder if he was purposely trying to keep you there – cooking for you, coming up with witty jokes and engaging topics for conversation. Oh but you did overthink it in the end, of course you couldn’t help it. Not with the way Arthur would narrowly avoid mentioning what had happened (or rather not happened) between the two of you, just to look at you with a silent plea in his large eyes as if begging you to say something for him. But you had been too perplexed and, yes, humiliated to even attempt to resolve the situation.

You rolled over onto your other side, for what felt like the hundredth time since you went to bed. One look at your phone on the bedside table revealed to you just how bad your ruminating was this time, the clock read 12:30. You were pretty sure you’d said goodnight to Arthur before eleven.

You took a sip from the glass of water Arthur had sent you to the guest bedroom with. You turned again and found the new position absolutely irritating. You laid flat on your back which made you uncomfortably hyper-aware of your entire body. With a sigh, you took another sip and turned the bedside lamp on, determined to use your sleeplessness for something more productive than mulling over issues you wouldn’t solve now anyway.

The guest bedroom connected straight to the living room, and you assumed Arthur’s bedroom was behind the door at the far end of the apartment. You weren’t worried about waking him up when you decided to borrow a book from his collection to read. But as you opened the door, you weren’t met with a dark room as you’d expected. The room was illuminated by a large floor lamp beside an armchair Arthur was sitting in, writing in a notebook.

He heard the creak of the opening door and lifted his head, looking almost embarrassed to be caught still awake. He closed the notebook and held it in his lap, covering it with his broad hands. You couldn’t help but smile at the child-like reaction; not with malice, but that odd affection you had developed for nearly all the quirks in his behavior. His earlier rejection had changed nothing about that.

“I see I’m not the only one who can’t sleep,” you said. Arthur let out a shaky breath and put the notebook aside.

“No. I’m expecting to stay up at least a couple more hours. Is there anything I can do for you?” The tension in his expression gave way to a soft smile, as he stood up and headed to the adjoining kitchen.

“No, thank you- Can I borrow one of your books though?” you asked.

“Oh of course, take a look, pick anything that strikes your fancy. I’ll just make us both some tea, I always find chamomile helps me relax when I have to stay up late, writing. Turns this rusty machine off,” he tapped his temple with his fingers and chuckled at his own little joke.

“Thank you, Arthur. And be kind to it, the machine’s a hard worker,” you replied, examining the vast selection of books lining almost the entire length of one wall.

“That’s true, it could use a vacation.” You weren’t looking at him, but you could hear the smile in his voice. Another thought crossed your mind – maybe you two were simply made to be friends, nothing more. Maybe Arthur had instinctively felt this and had in fact preserved your relationship by bottoming out.

“Let me know if you get lost in them,” he said, referring to the bookshelves in front of you, “I tried to sort the books alphabetically, hopefully that will help.”

You had never visited a home with a library this well organized, but Arthur wasn’t wrong: you could easily spend hours going over every single book on the shelves. Even if the idea of diving straight into the task tempted you, you decided to grab something at random, going for the section closest to you. The Stranger, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Night at the Circus – even the first couple of shelves displayed Arthur’s taste for classics as well as modern literature and many works you didn’t recognize.

You were about to reach for an Angela Carter novel your friend had recently recommended to you when your eyes fell one shelf lower briefly, catching a glimpse of a familiar name. You had to try harder to locate the book for the second time, but when your initial suspicion was confirmed, you didn’t have to think twice about your choice for tonight’s reading.

“Arthur?” You almost ran the distance to where Arthur was placing the lid over a delicate teapot, waving the paperback in front of his face, “First Class, Last Seat by Arthur Cartwright? Is that just a coincidence or…”

Had Arthur been pouring the tea at that moment, he would’ve inevitably spilled it all over his kitchen counter from the way he jolted at the sight of the book. He yanked it out of your hand with force bordering on aggressive, in turn startling you. Instantly realizing he’d overdone it, he reached over the counter and gave your still outstretched hand a gentle apologetic squeeze.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do- whatever that was. I feel a little thrown off balance today and, well, I haven’t touched this,” he patted the minimalistic white-and-blue cover of the book, “in years. I certainly wasn’t expecting you to come across it. But… take a look for yourself.”

He offered you the book back, rubbing his hands together anxiously as you opened it. On the inside of the cover a second Arthur was looking straight at you: barely a wrinkle on a face that appeared just a tad slimmer than that of the man behind the counter, smooth if a little thinning dark hair reaching just below his ears, a handsome black button-down shirt and that endearing toothy smile. You looked back at him standing in front of you; he hadn’t changed all that much, in your opinion.

“Well, you’ve always been attractive, I can see that. But why haven’t you mentioned this before? See how excited I am?” you teased him lightly, though behind the playful tone, the words were all true.

“You really aren’t helping my situation,” he laughed, but the breathless edge to his voice was giving him away. “Alright, I suppose I should tell you about the play. Yes, it is a play. But let me pour the tea first, I really need to calm my nerves if I’m about to get into this.”

You helped him carry the matching cups to the seating area, as his hands were visibly shaking. You let him take his armchair and you pulled a chair in close to him.

“God, I don’t even know where to begin. Today’s been like a therapy session, well almost. You better stop me in time or I might just tell you everything there is to tell.” He gulped down a half of the cup at once and didn’t even seem to flinch at the temperature.

“Why don’t you start with the play? How old were you when you wrote it? Twenty?” you asked.

“No, no. I was older than you are, nearing thirty. Are you sure you want me to go on? This is ultimately a failure story, I’d never bother anyone with it, let alone someone as talented and optimistic as you. You don’t need to keep hearing stories like this,” he sighed, staring at the cover of his play.

“I’m not sitting here with you at one am to listen to success stories. I just want to learn more about you, if you’ll let me. Please, Arthur.” You stroked his knee to comfort him, a daring gesture given today’s events. But he let the touch ground him, and finally nodded, covering your hand with his as he began his story:

“I want to say this is the only play I’ve ever written, but that wouldn’t be exactly accurate. I’ve written and tried to publish a novel and numerous short stories, and I already had two finished plays under my belt when I started writing First Class, Last Seat. Nothing came of any of it – I’m not a patient man, especially not with people. I just couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone changing my vision, I found it disrespectful to my work. Well, then things seemed to take a different turn when I let my friend read the new manuscript and he liked it so much he ended up handing it over to another friend of his who was an aspiring theatre director.”

“And you let him interfere with your vision?”

Arthur let out a weak little laugh at your question, shaking his head.

“I didn’t have to, he didn’t force me to change a thing. But how I wished he had later on. He was so insecure and eager to jump at any opportunity to direct – I admit, I really believed in this play, and so did my friend and poor Steve, the director. It isn’t a bad play, it’s fast-paced and funny, as funny as I could get in my late twenties, anyway. But it obviously wasn’t brilliant enough to make up for the most idiotic decision I’ve made in my entire career. Call it stubbornness or vanity or whatever you will, I came to the conclusion that the main character had so much of me written all over him that no one but me could do a good enough job playing him. So, I persuaded Steve to cast me as the lead,” he paused and took a long, thoughtful sip of his tea.

“You’re an actor?” So how come you were so shy to join the kids at the rehearsal, you almost wanted to add before stopping yourself. If you’d managed to learn something about Arthur, it was about his carefully covered-up insecurity. You didn’t need to ask and you knew better than to push him to admit it before he revealed more of himself at his own pace.

“Of course not. I’m not and never have been. I just deluded myself, thinking a few successful high school performances made me qualified for a professional acting job. Not only did I have no training, I also failed to realize that I’d put on quite a few pounds since high school and nobody was going to fall to the feet of a pudgy balding newcomer, not in New York.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to shield himself from any possible judgment, reliving his past insecurities in his mind.

“Arthur, don’t be so harsh on yourself. You’re a beautiful man and I definitely wouldn’t describe you as pudgy,” you protested gently. His furrowed brows softened at your concern, and he reached out to take your hand again.

“I appreciate it dear, but whatever euphemism you’re going to use won’t change anything about the way I look. I’m simply being self-aware. No, I did a decent job considering my lack of experience, but I underestimated my stage presence as a whole. To this day I don’t know why Steve didn’t replace me at some point, all I know is he should have. Maybe he would’ve saved at least his career. There was a review…” Arthur opened the book in the middle where it was bookmarked by a yellowed newspaper cut-out. He unfolded it and skimmed the page with obvious discomfort, even wincing at one point.

“You don’t need to show me, it’s alright,” you tried to comfort him, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb reassuringly. He freed his hand from your grasp and held the newspaper closer to his face, squinting before putting his glasses on.

“No, you need to hear this. I’ll read the best part for you: Cartwright’s troubling struggle to construct half-decent dialogue becomes even more apparent with his underwhelming delivery of his very own lines. “Supported” by Leigh’s flavorless direction, the production feels like Cartwright’s vanity project, a horrid misjudgment for the ambitious actor-playwright. Any potential the lead role holds is suffocated by Cartwright’s hopeless lack of charisma as the neurotic yet charming travelling professor. As a distraction from the second-hand embarrassment, I imagined myself in a Stanley Kubrick film, having my eyes forced wide open as I watched the heavyset lead seduce a fellow passenger. Want me to go on?” While Arthur’s voice sounded unnaturally calm given the circumstances, you noticed the flush in his cheeks and the nervous grip his fingers had on the piece of paper.

“This is- disgusting. Who wrote it? Why have you kept it?”

Arthur shrugged and folded the article, placing it back into the book.

“Oh you’ve never heard of him, I suppose. A critic well-known at that time, died ten years later. I met him once, a real arse, but people listened to what he had to say. So, I was done, just like that. The production was taken down after the premiere, and I never put myself out there again, not like this at least. Imagine, we were just a couple of young men trying to create something, to get serious about something we’d been doing for years, and this guy shut us down with a single article.”

“I had no idea, I’m so sorry, Arthur. Just- why did you decide to become a critic yourself, of all things?” you asked with genuine interest. You would imagine Arthur would come to hate all critique after an experience this traumatizing.

“I wanted to do better. Do it right,” he murmured, looking down at the book in his lap, “Which means, technically speaking, even my success turns out to be a failure. But at this point, I don’t know how to do anything else. Please, tell me honestly, how can you still stand me?” he looked at you with pleading eyes, a hint of sadness in his features. You took a deep breath, taking a second to consider what being truly honest would mean for your relationship.

“I like you. That’s it. I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. You don’t have to do anything about it, but I need you to understand I don’t need to stand you, I like being with you. I just like you.” You almost surprised yourself with how easily the words came out. Maybe Arthur’s unusual openness helped, but you suddenly didn’t see the point of avoiding the obvious any longer.

“You- I don’t-“ Arthur looked panicked, struggling to form a sentence. You stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder, almost eye to eye with him still sitting down.

“It’s okay, I’m not looking for an answer. I appreciate what you’ve told me today, but I won’t pry any more information out of you, don’t worry,” you smiled, not adding how badly you wished he would say something, either to affirm or reject you. At least you could go to bed knowing you weren’t bottling it all up any longer.

“I’ll go read for a while now, alright? Goodnight.” You bent down slightly and placed a ghost of a kiss on his cheek that felt hot even though you barely touched it.

You returned for the Carter novel you’d picked out before discovering Arthur’s play and headed back to the bedroom. The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks.

“Can I- would you mind if I read to you?”

“What?” you turned back to Arthur, who was blushing profusely as he stood in the middle of the room, frozen on his way to you.

“No, forget it. I didn’t mean to- I just thought it could help us both fall asleep faster. But it’s a stupid idea I don’t know why-“

“I’d love that. Please,” you smiled, your heartrate speeding up. Arthur stared at you for a few seconds as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t brushed him off with a polite rejection – ironic, considering your confession a couple minutes ago, you should be the only one worrying about such things. You waited for him to get out of the trance and follow you, letting him lie down on the bed before joining him.

The size of the bed meant you had to lie quite close to him, but you dared to snuggle up even closer, draping your arm over his torso.

“Is this alright?” you whispered. Arthur let out a shuddering exhale before nodding and getting more comfortable, shifting to turn towards you slightly. He opened the book and began to read, keeping his voice low to allow you to slowly drift asleep. You wished you could stay up as long as possible and listen to his soothing voice, but the exhaustion from today’s emotional rollercoaster was quickly catching up with you.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur closed the book, listening to your slow, even breathing. He reached over you to turn off the bedside lamp, determined to leave and attempt to go to sleep himself. However, feeling you still cuddled up to him, he allowed himself a few more minutes by your side, holding you carefully as not to disturb your sleep. Focused on his thumb stroking up and down your side, he barely noticed his eyelids were getting heavy and his breathing was slowing down to match yours.

#worth the free admission #arthur h. cartwright x reader #alfred molina fanfiction #alfred molina x reader #arthur h cartwright x reader #children's theatre critic #funny or die #alfred molina #rated t #gender neutral reader

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chrism02 · 2 years

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Answers to the fic suggestions

For the people that send me fic suggestions, I’m writing this to inform you that I didn’t delete your messages, I’m just slow on making them: 1. @currvycurly Yes, I’ll write for Dick Suskind, after I see the movie 2. @tudomarvel your idea is interesting and it got me thinking 3. I need to see the movie before I write for Touchstone 4. For the Mer!Otto What if Anon, I have to think about it 5. For the other Stephen Arden AU, I have a half-baked idea 6. Yes, I’ll write for Jonas Nyebern, I started writing it 7. If the inspiration strikes, I’ll write a part 2 for my Paul Weller story 8. Yes, I’ll write for Lou Wheeler, I started writing it 9. For the Good Doctor Anon, I didn’t like the tv series much, but I’ll see what I can do 10. For the Snidely Whiplash Anon, I started writing it 11. For the “accidentally switch” Anon, I have to ponder this one 12. I need to see the movie for Ray Hernandez 13. I need to see the movie for Martin Morales 14. @freddiefredfive I have a half-baked idea for Panos Demeris 15. @jembug28 I’m thinking about how he would fit with the Addams Family and an idea is brewing 16. For the extra on set Anon I’ll think of something 17. Yes, I’ll write for Roger Stephenson, after I see some episodes 18. Yes, there will be more Doctor Hooten, I’m working on the second part

P.S. Sorry again for making you wait but I write them as fast as I can when inspiration strikes. Thank you for understanding.🤗

P.P.S. I actually can’t believe the number of stories I have to write for new characters and the number of movies/ episodes I have to watch. Do you guys really like my stories that much or is it because I accept to write for any of Molina’s characters?! 🤔

Don’t be fooled by my question, I like each and every one of you that sends me characters to write about. 😘 And even if it’s not mentioned on my page, I’m always open to new ideas for fics.😁

#Alfred Molina #answers to fic suggetions #alfred molina fanfiction #fanfiction

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illiana-mystery · 4 months

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Here's a little something for my mutual @lost-in-the-forest-again. She was sick recently, so I wrote this fluffy little sick fic for her...

Scientifically Accurate Angel

Plot: During a walk around Manhattan to clear his head, Otto stumbles across a sick woman that's passed out on the sidewalk. Moved with compassion, he and the actuators gather her and her belongings and bring her to their new hideout. But Otto soon realizes that he's beginning to develop feelings for this strange woman, due to how much she reminds him of Rosie.

SFW, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Cuddling, Budding Love, Awkward Flirting, Nursing Back to Health

Taglist: @goodoldcharley, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @braindead94, @curbitkirby, @freddiefredfive, @writingkitten, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

---

The blistering pain of your sudden headache rang through your skull and cranium, suddenly waking you up in an unknown location.

You gently blink, trying not to irritate your headache more. But as you do, you get better sight of the room you're in.

It was a quaint little space, but staged like a cozy hotel room in the middle of the city.

The walls were a warm chestnut and the bed you found yourself in was plush and wide, decorated with earthy bedding.

Ahead of you was a small desk and whiteboard covered with equations. And next to that was a dresser and a TV atop of it. But your eyes squinted when you noticed a light blinking as loud footsteps cratered the floor below you.

Eyes still squinted, you jolted a bit when you noticed a curious actuator bulging out at you.

Were you in Doc Ock's hideout?

You didn't really have time to really think about it before the actuator gently pushed you down on the bed and pulled the covers over you again. It gently patted your shoulder after, before disappearing in the corner where the light flashed again.

"She's awake?" you heard a gruff voice ask. "Does she seem stable?"

But there was no answer.

"Oh, good. I was worried," he answered back to silence.

You were more than puzzled, but pretended to be asleep when he finally revealed himself from the lit-up corner.

He was just as big and tall as you figured, but almost teddy bear like. His dark brunette hair was all over his head, his cheeks were red flushed from the cold, and in his hand was a bag of medicine and other remedies for you.

Although you didn't know that yet.

"Looks like she fell back to sleep, Flo," he said with a little giggle. "She's quite beautiful. Reminds me of my Rosie."

Flo rubbed his cheek after he said that, knowing he would cry if she didn't.

"Thanks, Flo," he said, making the actuator buzz happily. "We should let her rest some more. I'll tend to her once she's up again."

The actuator nodded.

"Glad we're on the same page. Now back to my work."

Five minutes later, you finally woke fully up again. You blinked and saw he was focused on his whiteboard, writing more equations down.

He looked so cute focused, you almost didn't want to bother him. However, Flo beat you to it.

She immediately noticed you were awake again and notified Otto. Swiftly, he turned around and just smiled at you before making his way over to the bed.

"I'm glad you're awake," he said, softly caressing your face. "I was so worried."

"How did I end up here?" you asked, holding your throbbing head.

"We found you laying in the street," he answered. "We thought you were dead at first until Moe felt a pulse. So we gathered you and your belongings and brought you here."

"Oh, I didn't realize I passed out. I had to leave work early because of my throbbing headache and body aches."

"You might have the flu," Otto suggested. "But that's okay. I got a couple of different medicines from Duane Reade to take care of you."

"Oh, thank you. But I don't want to burden you. Seems like you're busy."

"Nonsense," he assured. "I don't mind. Unless you have someone at home that can take care of you."

"No," you solemnly answered. "It's only me and a sad studio apartment."

"Then it's settled. You can stay here until you get well," he happily said. "I also bought some soup if you would like some. Maybe it will help you gain some energy back."

"Soup does sound good. But why are you being so kind to me?" you asked, acting ignorant to his comment earlier.

"I feel it's a way for me to make up for my wrongdoings. I want to help mankind again, even if that means starting with helping you get better."

You blushed.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he said as he squeezed your hand and kissed it. "Now lie back down. I'm gonna go make that soup for you and get that medicine together."

"Okay," you said, obeying his command.

"Flo, keep her company," he said as she remained while he turned the corner.

"Hi again, Flo," you greeted, before she buzzed and flashed yellow. You were confused, until she laid against your stomach.

You giggled, but pet her. However, you didn't realize that Otto felt that too.

"Ooh, that tickles," he exclaimed.

"Wait, you felt that?"

"I feel whatever they feel. They're attached to my spine," he explained as he began to cook the soup.

"Oh, right. I'll stop then," you said, before Flo started whining.

"Flo likes your touch. It's fine. You can keep petting her. I'll live."

"Umm, okay," you moaned as you kept petting the actuator. She joyfully purred, cuddling even closer to you.

"She's cute," you said.

"Thank you. They're basically curious puppies now since I have a new inhibitor chip. They love interacting with new humans. I'm glad she likes you already, but Flo is the kindest one after all."

"I can tell."

"Your soup is almost done," he announced. "What medicine would you like to take? I got Motrin, Tylenol, Sudafed, or Benedryl."

"Give me a Tylenol," you replied. "Is it cold and flu?"

"And fast acting."

"Perfect," you say before the pot starts to sizzle on the stove.

"Soup's done," he announced. "Small bowl?"

"Yes, please," you answered back.

"Alright," he replied. "And I need two Tylenols...thank you, Moe. Okay, I'm coming back in."

You giggled, trying not to blush again when you saw him walking in with a tray, his chest now covered over with an apron.

Gently, he placed the tray over your lap after Flo moved and sat down by your side.

"Would you like me to feed it to you or can you manage?"

"I mean I can manage, but I don't mind you feeding me."

He giggled.

"Okay," he hummed as he grabbed the spoon. "Here comes the plane!"

"I'm not a child," you playfully huffed.

"Compared to me, you are," he chuckled before he properly fed you your first bite. "How old are you anyway?"

"30," you replied. "And you? You're probably like what...35? 40?"

He laughed.

"You're too kind. I'm technically 68," he answered back.

"Technically?"

"Yeah, weird multiversal travel stuff I recently went through. I got pulled from the past when I was 51 and then brought to this present where I would technically be 68."

"Hmm, weird," you hummed. "I don't really understand time travel. That's why I work in fashion."

"So that's what you do for a living?"

"Yeah, I'm an apprentice of Laney Valenci, the new heir of the Valenci fashion brand."

"Valenci? Oh, you mean that brand Norman Osborn likes so much? Hmm, small world."

You giggled.

"I didn't know he was a fan. I only design the womenswear though."

"I see," he pondered. "Also I didn't get your name. I'm Otto."

"Nice to formerly meet you, Otto. I'm Samantha, but everyone calls me Sam."

"What a beautiful name," he cooed, making you smile and blush.

"Thanks. Are you always charming?"

He blushed.

"Not always. I learned a lot from my late wife, bless her soul."

"I'm so sorry," you said, gently touching his hand.

"It's okay. I know she's in a better place," he assured. "Now let's get back to feeding you."

"Okay," you chirped.

He fed you some more of the soup before you finally asked him what you had been pondering for a while.

"What kind of project are you working on? What's with all of the equations?"

"Would you like me to dumb it down for you?" he teased.

"Yes," you moaned before Flo snaked over to comfort you with a cheek rub.

He chuckled.

"I'm working on a sustainable generator that is powered by green energy," he explained. "Generators can cause a lot of pollution, so I want to make one that won't."

"That's fascinating," you replied. "I assume you've made some progress."

"Not as much as I would like, but I'm starting to cook with gas," he said, feeding you another spoonful of soup. "But I desperately needed a break and Flo thinks that me taking care of you will help clear my head a bit."

"Oh," you said as you pet Flo again. "Thank you."

The actuator buzzed against your hand in response.

"She says you're welcome."

You smiled.

"One more spoonful left and then you have to take your Tylenol."

"Will it make the medicine go down?" you jokingly asked.

"You're a Sound of Music fan?"

"No," you confirmed, before taking your last slurp of soup. "It was just a cheap joke to get a reaction from you. Did it work?"

He laughed.

"I guess it did," he admitted. "But now I'm curious, what musical movie adaptation do you like?"

"Phantom of the Opera," you answer.

"Hmm, no hesistation," he observed. "But excellent taste. I have one of the adaptations on DVD. We can watch it together."

"Okay, but only if you cuddle with me," you boldly said, looking him right in the eye.

His face became redder than a tomato and he froze.

You wanted to cuddle with him?

He couldn't believe it.

Why would a pretty young woman like you want to cuddle with a mentally wrecked, old, mad scientist like him?

"I didn't even give you the medicine yet and you already sound loopy."

You laughed.

"I mean it, Otto. I would like to cuddle with you while we watch the movie."

"Alright," he relented before he gathered the Tylenol in his palm. "But now it's time to take your medicine."

"Okay!" you chirped before he fed the pills to you and gave you a sip of water. "Now what?"

"Now, you're gonna let the medicine do its job by resting again," he told you calmly as Flo pushed you back down on the bed. "Take another nap and once you wake up, we can cuddle and watch the movie."

You giggled.

"Sounds good to me," you said as you got more comfortable and closed your eyes. "See you in a bit, Otto."

"See you in a bit, Sam," he softly said.

About an hour later, you slowly batted your eyes open. Finally, your head stopped hurting and your body aches were quelled. However, your small fever still lingered.

It sucked, but you were glad that you were starting to feel better.

After you regained full consciousness, you noticed that Otto was back by his whiteboard. He was humming a happy tune, while the actuators were all watching him work.

Until Flo caught you again. In an instant, she jumped and turned around, facing you with her glowing yellow light.

"Up again already?" Otto jovially asked. "Well, you woke up at a good time. I needed another break after the breakthrough I just made."

You giggled, before he got up and made his way over to you again. He was smiling so bright, his eyes twinkling as he looked you over again. He could just tell you were starting to feel better.

Still, he wanted to check though. So he put his hand on your forehead and asked,

"How you feeling?"

"Well enough to cuddle with you," you joked, making him playfully sigh.

"I'm serious, Sam. Do you still have a headache? Are you still aching?"

"I still have a small fever, but my headache and body aches are basically gone."

"Yeah, you definitely still have a fever," he observed before pulling his hand away. "Feeling nauseous at all? Seems like you've been keeping your soup down."

"No, I don't have any nausea," you replied. "Just the little fever, promise."

"Okay, well maybe a lukewarm shower will help the fever go down," he noted.

"I don't have another pair of clothes," you whined.

"No worries. You can just wear one of my shirts as a nightgown. I mean you aren't going anywhere."

"Fair point. It is more comfortable to cuddle in than my work clothes."

Otto playfully rolled his eyes.

"Then it's settled. I'll run your water," he announced before leaving you alone in the room to do that.

You were only alone for a few minutes though, before he came back and tried to help you out of bed.

Your legs were still kind of numb, so it was a bit of a challenge. You ended up falling into his embrace, which made him more flustered since your top fell down a little in the process.

But he ignored it as best he could to help you regain your balance. It only took another two minutes to do so, and finally you made your way to his bathroom.

His little bathroom was simple, but kinda cute. It had just enough space to move around, which was good. It also had a mirror, a standard sink and faucet, and white cabinets & drawers underneath. Then to the side was a porcelain white toilet with a white medicine cabinet above. As for the walls, they were painted a baby blue, matching the tiles that decorated the walls of the shower/bath combo.

But what really caught your attention was his shower curtain. The fabric was decorated with painted octopi, all different colorful species against an ocean background.

The sight made you giggle, which Otto noticed.

"What's so funny?"

"Your shower curtain," you answered. "Kind of on the nose, huh?"

"Flo liked it," he shrugged. "Now are you able to clean yourself off or..."

"As much as I would like you to help me, I noticed how flustered you are so I can handle it myself. No worries."

"Well, alright. I'll be in the kitchen making you some more soup."

"Aye, aye captain," you teased, before he shook his head and closed the door behind him.

He went straight to the kitchen after, humming a happy tune again while he fished out another can of soup from the bag.

But as the soup started to cook, Flo began to vibrate loudly like she felt a disturbance. Otto was more than confused and tried to calm her down before he heard a loud thud.

Panicked, he rushed back over to the bathroom and swung the door open. But when he peeked through the curtain, his heart dropped.

There you were, lying unconscious on the tub floor. Your right leg was up in the air while your left was bent at the knee. One arm was pinned against your side and the left of the tub while the other dangled from the tub's edge.

And then there was your head.

It was drooping from the side, but posed almost like a melancholy Renaissance painting. It was an odd sight, but Otto wasted no time to help you. Even if he didn't want to gaze upon your naked body...

Well, not yet anyway.

Still, he jumped into action, stopping the water that was still raining down on you first. After, he picked you up and wrapped you in a towel to dry you off.

You fell into his grasp again as he dried you off, giving him another close up peek of your breasts.

But he ignored it again and threw the first t-shirt Moe grabbed from his closet on you.

"I'm glad she's still breathing," he told Flo once he picked you up again and brought you to the bed. The actuator comforted her creator with a cheek rub after. "I just hope she'll wake up soon. I really did want to cuddle with her."

He sulked away soon after, walking back to his kitchen to stop the soup cooking on the stove. Then he retired himself back to his desk, just praying Flo would sense you getting up again.

You didn't give him much time to reflect though as you opened your eyes again a few minutes after Otto put you back in bed.

You were very confused though.

Last thing you remembered was being in the shower. You didn't remember leaving said shower or putting his T-shirt on.

What happened in between then and now? And why were you unconscious again?

It made no sense, but you didn't want to freak out Flo who just realized you were up again. So you just saved face and slowly sat back up.

"She's up?!" Otto happily asked his helper.

Flo nodded.

"Oh good," he chirped turning his attention to you.

You felt like you were gonna blush by how happy he sounded.

"Hungry?" he jovially asked. "I just heated up another can of soup for you."

"Yeah, I could go for some more soup," you replied. "And your cuddles."

He laughed.

"Soup first, cuddles later," he gently said. "Besides, you need to get your strength back up and take some more Tylenol. How you feeling? You took a nasty fall earlier. We had to take you out the shower."

"Oh, is that why I have no recollection of how I got here? And why I feel a bit more sore?"

"I'm afraid so," he confirmed. "Stay put and get cozy. I'll be right back with your remedies."

You nodded, although you were really confused as to why you fell. You've never fallen in your shower before.

Was it because your legs were previously a bit numb?

Maybe...

Otto returned before you could ponder though, but without his apron on this time. The routine was the same though and he fed you again with no hesitation.

The way he looked at you between bites made your heart melt even more. It was clear in his warm brown eyes that he was fond of you. He obviously developed a crush on you since your time together, but you didn't mind.

Of course...

"Otto," you started, almost hesitating to ask him what you were about to ask.

"Yes, Sam? Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," you assured him. "I just wanted to know something..."

"What?" he softly asked.

"Do you like me?"

His face turned even more red than before.

"What gave it away?"

You giggled.

"The way you've treated me all day. You seem more interested in me than just being my nurse. And you blushed when I asked to cuddle with you earlier."

"Right," he sighed. "I suppose I do fancy you. You remind me of my Rosie. I miss her so much, but maybe you're the sign that I need to move on."

"Otto," you softly said, caressing his face. "Would you like to go on a date with me once I get better?"

He smiled, before replying,

"Yes, I would like that a lot. Wherever you want to go, I'll take you."

You giggled again.

"Okay, I'll make a decision soon," you promised.

"Take your time. You're still ill," he remarked. "Now back to your soup. The sooner you eat and take your pills, the sooner we can get the cuddling."

"Right," you chirped, gladly taking another slurp of soup he gave you.

Another few minutes passed and you finished your meal and took your medicine. And once you did, Otto went back into his kitchen to clean up so he could finally cuddle and watch the movie with you.

Truly, he was anticipating this as much as you. He had been so lonely for so long, he was glad that he found you.

His sick, little fallen angel.

"I think it's cuddle time," he happily said before he joined you in the bed.

You laughed and let Moe wrap around you to put you in Otto's lap. He released you after and you laid your head on Otto's chest while Flo found the DVD and put it in the player next to the TV.

After, she returned to your side, guarding you as her creator held you close against his beating heart.

You were in heaven and you felt more loved than you ever had in your entire life.

Otto was just so nice and soft and plush. He made a wonderful sentient pillow, a nice one you didn't want to let go off or move from.

And you made that very apparent when you fell asleep against him right before the movie ended.

Otto couldn't help but smile at how beautiful you looked in your slumber either. But Flo was a bit concerned about your comfort.

"Flo, leave her be. She seems comfortable to me. Let her keep resting," he told his creation before he gently caressed your face again. "Looks like I might have found you a new mommy, guys. A new, beautiful mommy."

Flo buzzed of excitement at the thought, before she wrapped herself around you loosely and gently vibrated against your stomach.

You were too knocked out to notice though.

And Otto just kept watch until he also succumb to his fatigue, his subconscious just hoping that you would be better in the morning.

#hope you enjoy #doc ock #doctor octopus #doctor octavius #dr. otto octavius #otto octavius #spiderman #raimi trilogy #nwh #no way home #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 fic #archive of our own #alfred molina

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