#panoramic x ray

[susanhorak]

panoramic x ray system Point 200 HD The panoramic x ray system Point 200 HD is an economic with high quality device, also panoramic xray is a user-friendly device with clear panoramic image suitable for dentist

Panoramic xray point 200 HD Features Adoption smart HD Sensor Easily shown clear and high quality image when the luminous body absorbed X-ray, the each cell converts Electronic signal without any spread and overlap

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[anazimed]

Panoramic Dental X-ray System

Panoramic Dental X-ray System model provide wide view of dental structure that includes all teeth and bones. High-frequency X-ray generators are known for their efficiency in producing high-quality images with lower radiation doses. They selectively filter out low-energy X-rays, allowing the higher-energy X-rays to pass through and contribute to image formation.

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[indianapolisendodonticspc]

Panoramic X-Rays at Indianapolis Endodontics PC

Panoramic X-rays are a type of dental X-ray that provides a wide-angle view of your upper and lower jaws, teeth, and surrounding structures. They can be used to diagnose a variety of dental problems, including:

Impacted or unerupted teeth

Jaw tumors or cysts

Bone loss

Sinus problems

Temporomandibular joint (TMJ) disorders

Dental implant placement

Root canal therapy

Panoramic X-rays are typically taken at your first appointment with Indianapolis Endodontics PC, and may be repeated periodically to monitor your dental health. They are also often taken before certain dental procedures, such as root canals and dental implants.

How are panoramic X-rays taken?

Panoramic X-rays are taken using a special X-ray machine that rotates around your head. The machine takes a single X-ray image that captures your entire jaw and teeth. The procedure is quick and painless, and takes only a few minutes.

What are the benefits of panoramic X-rays?

Panoramic X-rays offer a number of benefits, including:

They provide a wide-angle view of your teeth and jaws, which can help your dentist diagnose problems that may not be visible on other types of X-rays.

They are quick and painless to take.

They produce very little radiation.

They are digital, which means that they can be viewed and shared instantly.

If you have any questions about panoramic X-rays, please do not hesitate to ask your dentist or endodontist at Indianapolis Endodontics PC.

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[44thstdental]

Understanding Panoramic Dental X-Rays: A Window into Oral Health

Panoramic dental X-rays serve as a crucial diagnostic tool in dentistry, providing a comprehensive view of a patient's oral health. This blog aims to provide a clear understanding of panoramic dental X-rays and their significance in assessing oral health conditions.

The Basics of Panoramic Dental X-Rays:

Panoramic X-rays, also known as orthopantomograms or OPGs, capture a wide-angle image of the entire mouth, including the teeth, jaws, and surrounding structures. The X-ray machine rotates around the patient's head, creating a panoramic view that reveals a wealth of information to dentists.

Comprehensive Assessment:

One of the primary advantages of panoramic X-rays near you is their ability to offer a comprehensive assessment of oral health. Dentists can examine the entire dentition, including erupted and unerupted teeth, impacted teeth, dental roots, and the surrounding bone structure. This comprehensive evaluation aids in detecting dental abnormalities, such as cavities, infections, bone loss, and developmental issues.

Identification of Oral Pathologies:

Panoramic X-rays play a vital role in identifying various oral pathologies. Dentists can identify signs of gum disease, cysts, tumors, and other abnormalities that may not be visible during a routine examination. Early detection of these conditions allows for timely treatment and can prevent further complications.

Treatment Planning and Monitoring:

Panoramic dental X-rays aid dentists in formulating effective treatment plans. By visualizing the overall oral health status, dentists can determine the need for orthodontic treatment, wisdom tooth extraction, dental implants, or other necessary interventions. These X-rays also assist in monitoring treatment progress and evaluating the success of previous procedures.

Patient Comfort and Safety:

Panoramic X-rays offer a comfortable experience for patients. Unlike intraoral X-rays, which involve placing films inside the mouth, panoramic X-rays simply require the patient to stand or sit in a designated position. This reduces discomfort and eliminates the need for multiple X-ray placements.

Conclusion:

Understanding panoramic dental X-rays is essential for comprehending their role as a window into oral health. These X-rays provide dentists with valuable insights into a patient's oral structures, facilitating accurate diagnoses, effective treatment planning, and the identification of potential oral pathologies. By utilizing panoramic dental X-rays, dental professionals such as dentist in Edina can ensure comprehensive oral health assessments, leading to improved patient care and overall well-being.

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[dentistctscan]

Check out latest GMB post to know about our panoramic x-ray Los Angeles & Encino service available at competitive cost. To book us, call 818.386.8562

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[gujtjddh6]

#Panoramic Dental X-Rays in Forest Hills

[givemequeen]

raising Scorpius: Draco Malfoy x reader domestic fluff

request: can i request some domestic Draco fluff about Draco and MC raising Scorpius, either after Astoria's death or with MC replacing Astoria as Scorpius's mom?? thank youUuu a/n: loved this request, hope this is what you wanted!! word count: 721

Arguably, the most coveted space in the Malfoy Manor was the sun parlor. In summer, it bathed occupants in the warmth of the sun's rays, while in winter, Draco's charms ensured one could relish the beauty of snow without enduring the biting cold. It had some of the most conformable sofas, which made you feel like you were lunging on clouds.

Any time of the day, it was the best room. In the morning, you could nestle into the plush sofa with a cup of morning tea, savouring the tranquil spectacle of the sunrise. In the afternoon, the room offered a front-row seat to observe the majestic peacocks leisurely wandering the grounds. And as evening descended, after a satisfying dinner, it provided the perfect setting to lose yourself in a good book while the sun dipped below the horizon in the distance.

Its panoramic views stretched out before you, showcasing the sprawling grounds in all their splendor. Adjacent to the sun parlour lay the small Quidditch pitch that Draco had set up a couple of years back, providing the perfect spot to watch your husband—often shirtless—as he soared through the air on his broom.

Setting your book aside, you turned to gaze at the pitch, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips as you hoped to catch a glimpse of your half-naked, sweaty husband in action.

But as your eyes scanned the scene, they widened in alarm. Instead of Draco, you saw your three-year-old son precariously perched on a broom, giggling in delight as he wobbled through the air. Fear gripped your heart, you pushed the glass door open and sprinted towards your son.

You looked around, trying to find Draco but he was nowhere to be seen.

"SCORPIUS, COME BACK HERE!" you screeched, your voice trembling with fear, but your frantic calls were carried away by the wind.

The wind whipped through your hair as you reached the edge of the pitch, your heart pounding in your chest. You waved your arms frantically, trying to catch your son's attention.

Scorpius, oblivious to your frantic calls, continued to giggle as he attempted to steer the broom, his tiny hands barely able to grasp the handle. Panic surged through you as he veered dangerously close to the ground, his laughter echoing in the air. Your hands flew to your mouth, convinced you were about to see your son crash against the floor.

Suddenly, Draco appeared, laughing heartily as he swooped in on his broom, scooping Scorpius up safely in his arms at the last minute. You could hear his roaring laughter, but you didn't find it amusing.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" you scolded, your voice tinged with anger and relief.

Your husband turned towards you, your use of his full name wiping the grin right off of his face. You could see as he muttered "fuck" under his breath, knowing he was caught.

Placing your hands on your hips, you waited for him to approach. As Draco neared you, his demeanor shifted, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and remorse at being caught. Beside him, Scorpius bounced with excitement, oblivious to the tension between his parents.

"This is not a game! You scared me half to death! Scorpius could have been hurt!" you yelled.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, his voice soft. "We were just having a bit of fun. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

You scoffed, not willing to accept his apology, and turned to look over his shoulder.

He took a step closer, setting Scorpius on the ground beside him. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he reached out to gently touch your arm.

Draco's warm touch on your arm sent a soothing wave through you. You turned to face him and couldn't help the smile that spread through your face. Draco saw this as a way in and pulled you against his bare chest.

"Ugh, Draco! You're all sweaty." you complained half-heartedly, but made no attempt to back away.

"Mmhm." he murmured softly as he kissed your cheek. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Scorpius, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, piped up with a mischievous grin. "Yes it will," he declared innocently, earning a chuckle from both you and Draco.

How could you stay mad at either of your boys? It was impossible.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader fluff #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco fluff

[susanhorak]

Dentist panoramic x ray system Point 200 HD is an economic with high quality, user-friendly panoramic xray device with clear panoramic image

Panoramic xray point 200 HD Features 

Adoption smart HD Sensor

Easily shown clear and high quality image when the luminous body absorbed X-ray, the each cell converts Electronic signal without any spread and overlap

#x ray system #panoramic xray #panoramic x ray near me #panoramic x ray #panoramic digital #opg dental

[wordywarriorwrites]

Assignation

Title: Assignation | AO3 | Rating: M | Masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You meet Frankie on your dream vacation and sparks fly...

Warnings: Language. Smut. Alcohol consumption.

The all-inclusive, adults-only resort is undeniably luxurious.

Clear-blue skies. White-sand beaches. Glorious accommodations. It’s an absolute dream vacation destination, and you – long overdue for a break – fully intend to spend your time in paradise eating food you’ve never tried, sleeping in as late as you want, and testing the limits of your liver.   

The patio outside your suite offers a panoramic view of the Atlantic, along with a private pool, and gated access to the beachfront. Nearby, you can see people dancing and eating and playing games. You’re far enough away from the noise for it not to be bothersome, but close enough that you can join in any time you like.  

Feet in the water. The apples of your cheeks slathered in sunscreen. You let your senses take in the salty air and chlorine, the echoes of laughter and revs of water skis, the sleep-inducing heat, and the chilled-to-perfection cocktail. The buzz in your veins has kickstarted your appetite, and your nose guides your gaze toward the tiki hut across the way, the delicious scent wafting from it prompting you to pocket your room key and make your way onto the sand.

You sip as you precariously swerve and dodge, mindful of your step and the revelry of the other vacationers. You’re being extra careful, so, it’s not your fault when the collision happens. In fact, you were well out of the way of the group of men drinking beer and playing volleyball, but the safe distance you kept wasn’t enough to stop the collision from happening.

The glass in your hand goes flying, the ice and tequila splashing on your face and chest just seconds before you’re entangled with muscled limbs. A blur of a hat and dark eyes, and then, it’s all hops and sweat and the unmistakable scent of coconut. Everything goes tilt-a-whirl, and you roll a few times before your back eventually meets cold water and wet sand. Waves rush forward, and the only thing that prevents you from swallowing a mouthful of brine is a broad-shouldered body blocking the spray.

“You alright?” a deep voice pants, low-timbered and tinged with concern.  

A large, warm palm cups your cheek, prompting you to look up and drink in the sight of the man hovering above you. Dark, decadent brown eyes squinted against the bright, late-afternoon rays. Water drip-dropping from the tip of his sun-burned nose, the lobes of his ears, and his lush curls. Plush mouth, lips parted to take in gulps of air. A mustache. A patchy beard.  

Christ, he’s beautiful, you think.

“There’s ice in my bra,” is what you say.

His handsome face is completely transformed by his smile. A rich laugh follows, revealing lines around his eyes and mouth that show he’s a good-natured man with a sense of humor, and something about that warms your insides better than any liquor ever could.

When he flops onto his back, exposing your now too-curious gaze to his throat and torso, your belly swoops and your heartbeat kicks up a notch. After a series of slow, deep breaths, he gathers himself, groaning slightly as he sits up and brushes his hair from his face with his forearm.

“Sorry about that,” he says, getting to his feet and offering you a sand-covered hand up. “Guess me and the boys got a little too into it.”

With a flex of his bicep, you’re standing, watching as he deftly retrieves his hat and plops it back onto his head with practiced ease. A moment later, the boys he referenced appear; three grown men, each possessing auras of calm authority as they introduce themselves and ask if either one of you needs a medic. He, who you discover is named Franscisco but-everyone-calls-me-Frankie is quick to wave them off, and so are you. 

“Nothing broken,” you insist, tagging along with the group as they start walking as a unit toward dry sand. “Enjoy your game.”

They wave. You wave. Adrenaline waning, you’re a bit wobbly as you move toward the restaurant, and promptly collapse into the first vacant seat you find. A kind attendant brings you a towel and a bottle of water, and after you catch your bearings, your stomach reminds you of your original mission.

Spiny lobster. Yaroa. You’re pretty sure you eat your weight in both, washing it down with a nice, full-bodied chardonnay before topping it all off with bizcocho that is criminally delicious. The journey back to your room is uneventful – though this time, when you pass the volleyball pit, they halt their play, and Frankie nods at you rather sheepishly.  

After a quick shower to rinse away the sand and lingering stench of alcohol, you fall into bed and are asleep almost as soon as your head hits the feathered pillow. When you wake, it’s to an unfamiliar ringing and a darkening room. A bit disoriented, you fumble around for the bedside lamp, clicking it on before leaning over to grab the receiver of the room telephone.

“Hello?” you croak.

“Good evening, madam, this is the concierge,” a polite, feminine voice greets. “Sorry to disturb you, but a delivery has arrived for you. May I have it sent to your suite?”

You rub sleep from your eyes and sit up slowly, “Uh, sure. That’s fine.”

There’s no time to ask what it is or who it’s from because all you hear is a cheery thank you, followed by a chirped goodbye and a click as the call is ended. You hang up and take note of the time, and the knock announcing the arrival of the delivery comes a handful of minutes later. Still bleary-eyed and fuzzy-minded, you stumble out of bed and forget all about checking the eyelet before answering.

And to say you’re surprised to find Frankie just beyond the threshold of your hotel suite is an understatement.

Sporting cargo shorts, a maroon-colored t-shirt, and a soft smile. Curls on full display. Sunscreen traded for fabric softener and deodorant. He’s casually, disarmingly handsome, and the bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, coupled with that strong jaw and charming smile that makes you feel all gooey-in-the-middle?

Christ, you’re going to swoon.  

“Were you sleeping?” he wonders, tone curious, if not entirely innocent.

You blink slowly. He looks right back at you, now fully smirking, revealing a dimple you hadn’t noticed before – one that somehow insinuates that your appearance has sparked both a keen interest and great amusement. It’s then that you remember how you’d crawled into bed earlier in just a t-shirt and underwear, and now, your bare legs, unsupported cleavage, and unkempt hair are currently on display for him.   

“You can see all my cash and prizes, can’t you?” you blurt.

Frankie laughs, but it’s not cruel. He’s also not crude, insisting nothing X-rated is visible, and when he holds the flowers out toward you, you take them without hesitation. Face on fire, you bring the bouquet to your nose and inhale slowly.

“These are lovely,” you murmur, holding them to your chest. “I take it you’re the delivery the front desk called me about?”

“Yeah, Benny charmed the clerk. Got me your room number,” he confesses, left shoulder shrugging. He clears his throat. Rubs his hands on his shorts. “Look, I just – I wanted to say I’m sorry. And make sure you’re okay. I feel bad, you know, for earlier.”

Taken aback, you trace a fingertip along a petal on one of the blooms and swallow hard. It’s a beautiful array. Pale pink, red, yellow, and orange – traditional for the area and likely bought at one of the many on-site gift shops. It’s a kind gesture that flummoxes you because it’s so unexpected and completely unnecessary.

And you don’t know what to say.

You’re a take-charge kind of gal – firing on all cylinders, always ready with a solution or an answer. You’re fully capable of having a conversation with an attractive, amiable man. One with broad shoulders that strain against the seams of his shirt. One who has a bedroom voice, even in the middle of a brightly lit hallway. One who makes you keenly aware with every passing second in his presence that you’re a woman – not just some high-paid, high-powered, pencil-skirt-wearing cog in a corporate machine.

Frankie fiddles with his watch before shoving his hands into his pockets. Effortlessly gracious, he’s forthcoming with another apology – this time, for interrupting your sleep. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his intention to leave you be, and you watch him take a few steps toward the elevator before you find your voice and rediscover your spine.

“Hey, you, uh, want to get a drink?” you call after him. “With me? Or some food?”

He stops. Turns around. That smile and that damn dimple are back, and you just can’t help but grin at him in return.

“I dunno,” he murmurs playfully, thumb rubbing absentmindedly at his chin. “You gonna put some pants on?”

You shrug, “Maybe. And if you’re nice, I’ll might even brush my hair.”

Fannkie’s deep chuckle prompts you to insist that you can be ready in five minutes. Content to wait in the hall, he lifts his wrist, and pointedly eyes his watch.

“I’m timing you, gatita,” Frankie says.

You hurry back into the room, dropping the flowers into the bedside water pitcher before digging frantically through your suitcase and putting on a clean bra and a sundress. You multitask and push your feet into a pair of sandals as you wrangle your tresses. An oversized claw clip saves the day, and after a dab of perfume and a swipe of deodorant, you’ve got your handbag, and are stuffing your phone and room key into it as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Leaning against the wall near the elevator, arms casually crossed over his chest; Frankie straightens when he spots you, all smiles as he jabs the button with his thumb, prompting the doors to slide open.

“Four minutes, thirty-three seconds,” he remarks, stepping in after you. “Cuttin’ it close, gatita.” You arch a brow. Purse your lips. Jab the button for the ground floor. You’re amused and failing to hide it, and Frankie knows it, but he doesn’t say anything – he just stands close enough to you to make the butterflies in your stomach go frantic, the teasing wink he tosses in your direction perfectly timed with the doors reopening.

The two of you disembark, walking side-by-side out of the lobby and onto the hotel grounds. Guided by spine-shaking music, past a colorfully lit dance floor, and into the restaurant area proper. Bass and cheering are traded for clinking utensils and quiet conversations, making it easier for the two of you to chat as you peruse. There are menus to be found outside the door of each place, and you and Frankie are quick to agree on a spot about halfway across the property.

The roar of the ocean is smothered by the chatter of guests, who are strategically seated throughout the wide-open, dimly lit space. Frankie hones in on a relatively quiet spot toward the back, and once he’s guided you into a chair, it doesn’t take long for the tiny, modestly set table to become invisible beneath a smorgasbord of food and drink.

A couple of shots of Mama Juana. A cocktail for you. A beer for him. La Bandera and Sancocho. Cassava dumplings and tostones. Spanish flows naturally from Frankie’s mouth, and somehow, it all tastes better when he’s the one ordering and explaining what’s in each dish.

Time passing. Chairs inching closer. Idle chit-chat easing into an interesting conversation. A touch to your forearm. A squeeze to his shoulder. He takes from your plate, and you take from his. The two of you – laughing just a little too loudly, sharing a bottle of wine, and then, a bottle of champagne. Splitting a plate of fresh fruit, with warm, dark chocolate for dipping. Furtive glances, morphing into lingering looks…

“How long are you staying?” you wonder.

“Fly out tomorrow night,” he says, popping a piece of pineapple into his mouth. “You?”

You reach for a slice of mango, “Three weeks. I got here two days ago, and I’m already thinking of ways to stay longer.”

He hums and nods, “I’ll drink to that.”

Glasses raised, the two of you clink and sip, finishing off the bottle with ease. Frankie’s attentive, and quick to offer a top-up, or to order you something more, but you shake your head and decline. You’re comfortably full, pleasantly buzzed, and you let him know it.

“It’s a nice night,” you remark, eyes searching for the waves in the dark. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

Frankie sits back and tosses his napkin on the table, “Want some company?” 

You nod, and the two of you set out, meandering down and beyond the main drag, strolling by fountains and decorative greenery before hitting the gardens. The two of you stick to the lit paths, strides matching, easily picking up where you left off.

“My ex and I – we split up about five years ago,” he says without a trace of upset. “And I told you about my daughter.”

“Maya, starting first grade in the fall, hates crunchy peanut butter,” you recite.

Frankie chuckles. Goes on to say that she’s the reason he stays in Florida. That work (helicopter tours) is easier to come by in a state with a lot of tourism, and it’s heavily populated by impatient people with disposable incomes, meaning he makes good money on chartered flights as well.  

“Makes sense,” you agree. “And the guys – you said you’re all from the same unit?”

He nods, “We do this once a year – pack up and go somewhere to blow off steam. We made it a thing after… Well, anyway. Enough about me. What about you?”

You shrug, “I work. A lot.”

“Family?”

“Either dead or out of state.”

“Friends?”

“Believe it or not, I do have a few,” you insist.

Frankie makes a sound of skepticism, and you swear you have friends – that you were, in fact, a bridesmaid at a wedding last year, and present for a baby shower a few months ago, but he doesn’t believe you. You prove it to him, showing him a video of your gift being unwrapped, followed by several snaps of the wedding party, all donning western-themed garb.  

“Look,” you point out. “I even wore a bonnet and petticoats.”

“You most certainly did,” he half-laughs, half-snorts.

A playful swat to his shoulder, and then, he’s grinning and hooking his pinky around yours. A nonchalant thing – a flirtatious, silent request to touch, to get just a little bit closer, and you like it. By the time you’re headed back toward the resort, your fingers are intertwined, and the steps the two of you take become progressively slower as you approach a discreetly hidden path lit up by tiny, white lights.

Frankie gently, carefully, pulls you into his arms. You go, all too willingly, goosebumps spreading at the heat and proximity of his body so close to yours. He crooks a finger under your chin, prompting you to tilt your head back and lift your eyes up so you can witness his intentions for yourself.

“Are you going to let me kiss you, gatita?” he wonders.

“I was hoping you would,” you reply.

Another smile – this one slow and sweeter than syrup. Then, your face is cupped in his warm hands, and he’s closing the little distance that remains. Frankie kisses you like he means it – unbridled, but not unskilled, tongue dipping and teeth nipping in such a way that you’re left reeling, unable to anchor yourself as he slowly retreats and rushes in for more. You know this time with him is finite, that tomorrow, he’ll be gone, but for now, in this moment, he’s yours. 

A pause – quiet and searching, but still seeking, his mouth eager to return, as if he can’t help himself, lips chasing even though you’re not running. Hands now gripping your waist, squeezing, throat bobbing as he swallows hard and lets out a ragged breath against your neck.

“Do you – I want – I’ll stop,” he rasps. His actions immediately contradict his words when he brings your hips together, pressing up against you as his mouth runs along your jaw and the shell of your ear. “I’m – shit. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

You shake your head and dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders, “Don’t stop.”

A groan, and then, he’s kissing you again, and the ache that’s begun to settle between your legs is becoming an insistent, unbearable throb – one you want Frankie to alleviate with a passion that’s bordering on desperation. You pry yourself from him, pressing a hand over his mouth to hide his tempting, kiss-swollen lips from your view.

“My room,” you insist. “Let’s go.”

Hand-in-hand this time, the two of you practically jog back to the resort. Frankie stops off at a shop near the entrance, emerging a few minutes later with a bag containing a package of condoms, some gum, and a touristy-looking baseball cap.

“I’m sure the clerk has no clue what we’re about to get up to,” you deadpan.

Frankie grunts and swats your ass. You yelp and hiss at him, but he just grins and unceremoniously shuffles you toward the elevator. The doors shut, and he doesn’t hesitate to crowd you, eyes never leaving yours, the tension palpable as his gaze sweeps over you like a caress. The other passengers either don’t notice or don’t care, and the anticipation builds even more as you disembark and head to your suite.

“Can you just – let me – Frankie,” you whimper, keycard bumping up against the lock for the umpteenth time.

“What?” comes his reply, all cheeky, feigned innocence, hands and lips exploring every inch of you he can reach. “Trouble with the door?”

Anticipation wreaking havoc, you groan when he thumbs your nipple through your dress, his actions deft, but doing absolutely nothing to help matters. By the time you manage it, and the light on the lock goes from red to green, you’re writhing and so turned on, it’s almost shameful. When the door shuts again, the do-not-disturb hanger is on the outside, and the security latch is firmly in place.

“Say it,” he insists, tossing the bag onto the bed. “Say that you want this.”

You toss your purse aside and kick off your sandals, “I want this.”

“Because we’ve had a lot to drink,” Frankie continues, fingertips seeking out the rounds of your shoulders and the line of your collarbone. “And I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I crashed into you on the beach, but I gotta – you gotta be sure.”

Tongue heavy and throat tight, you twist your fingers into the skirt of your dress, pulling it up, up, up, until it’s high enough to guide one of Frankie’s wandering hands beneath it. Beyond the fabric of your panties and between your legs – the proof of your want, of your desire, is unmistakable. Frankie inhales sharply at what you encourage him to find and exhales a baritone-deep sound that can’t be mistaken for anything other than approval.

His rough, whiskered cheek against yours. His heavy palm slides up your spine, seeking, until the clip in your hair is removed and sent clattering and bouncing against the tile. A tug to your tresses. A nip to your jaw. Swirling fingertips that breach deep and curl just right. Gaze fixated, expression ravenous in the ambient glow of the pool light, Frankie’s the epitome of a quick study – learning you like a flight plan, mapping out the quickest route to what will make you take off and fly for him.

Knees trembling and calves burning, you’re being coaxed toward a precipice, and it feels so good that it’s overwhelming. Spine-bowing pleasure rushes forward, impossibly fast, and with a pointed strum to your clit, you’re lost to it. The muscle of his forearm flexes as he guides you through a heady surge of bliss, and while you fall apart, Frankie watches you – lower lip tugged between his teeth, head slowly nodding as if he agrees with your complete and utter surrender to your climax.  

“More of this?” he murmurs, voice a gravelly rumble against your hairline. “Or do you want me?”

Quicker than lightning, the word ‘you’ slips out from between your lips, and your answer, filled with unmistakable, unreserved eagerness, prompts the reappearance of his smile. Only this time, it’s all cat-got-the-canary as he eases his hand out from between your legs and unflinchingly slips the pleasure-soaked digits past his lips. Lashes fluttering, his expression becomes reminiscent of how he looked at dinner, all appreciative, as if the flavor of you is just as satiating.

“You taste good, gatita,” he murmurs.

“Jesus, Frankie,” you breathe shakily.

Hands trembling, you reach for his shirt, and he allows you to help him out of it. This time, he guides your touch, prompting you to splay your fingers across the expanse of his chest and down his stomach. Eyes hooded, he watches you slip his belt open, pop the button beneath his naval, and ease the zipper down. The shorts fall away easily, and a careful tug at the waistband of his boxers is all it takes to see him free from the confines.

Reaching for him, taking the heft of him in hand, you find him hot and hard for you. You grasp. Squeeze. Experiment until he starts to kick in your palm, letting you know with each groan, with each involuntary thrust of his hips, that you’re doing it right. Tip leaking furiously, precum easing the way, you cup and fondle his heavy sac until he’s cursing against the seam of your mouth.

“You’re gonna,” he huffs, voice muffled around your tongue. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Want me to stop?” you wonder.

You nip his chin. Twist your wrist. Frankie’s brow draws tight, face warring with conflicting desires, but eventually, he pulls himself back from that ledge. The straps of your dress and your panties suffer for it, though, as he practically tears at them to get at you. A tangle of limbs and laughter, the two of you fall onto the messy bed, the bag with the condoms snagged just before it can be crushed beneath your combined weight.

Hat and gum discarded. The condom box torn open. The package crinkles, and then, it’s tossed aside. You offer to help, but Frankie insists on doing it himself, and the strained edge in his voice lets you know that his control is hanging by a precarious thread, and it’s all because of you.    

“Still with me?” he checks, thumbs rubbing your kneecaps.

You nod and squeeze his wrist, “Yes.”

A deep, languid kiss, and then, you’re guiding him to you. Body sensitive, nerves alight, you tilt your hips up in anticipation. And Frankie’s careful – so, so careful – forehead pressed to yours, all wide-eyed, as if he’s anticipating – practically expecting – the exact opposite of the welcoming sound you make when he eases forward and begins to rock his hips.

“More,” you plead, voice needy – even to your own ears.

The request soon becomes a demand, one he doesn’t give in to until you promise him you can take it – that you can take all of him. Only then does Frankie roll you onto your stomach. In a display of strength and prowess, he gets you up on your hands and knees, and guides you back onto him with a thrust-and-roll that has you keening.

“Good?” Frankie pants against the hinge of your jaw.

“Yes,” you insist, the warmth of your impending orgasm spreading through your body and loosening your tongue. “Want you to fuck me, Frankie.”

“Greedy,” he grits out sharply. “Codicioso, pequeño gatito…”

It’s impossible to answer with your chin grasped hard in his hand and your neck craned to the side. Frankie’s kiss is sloppy, all carnality, and absolutely no finesse – still, it takes your breath away and makes you feel desired. There’s an edge to his touch, now; a bite in the way his fingertips pinch at your nipple, sending a zing of pleasure directly to your core. Caresses turn into gropes and heavy-handed squeezes until he’s pressing your spine into an impossibly deep arch that forces you to take him just a little bit deeper, the tip of him bumping, bumping, bumping the parts of you that make your bones rattle. 

“Want you to come,” Frankie grits out, voice a breathless, strained thing as his teeth dig into the round of your shoulder. “Come for me again.”

You’re already there, but you can’t formulate the words because it happens slowly, and then, all at once. He seeks out your clit, drawing circles with the pressure and ruthless precision of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. You hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears, and then, it’s a free fall. You’re soaring, high above the clouds, euphoric beyond all comprehension. And he’s right there with you – pulling you back and up against his chest, arms banding around your waist as he grinds into you, prolonging your release and taking pleasure in his own.

A careful parting, followed by twin sighs of satisfaction. Frankie makes quick work of the condom, and then, you’re back in his arms. He’s soft again, sleepy eyes finding yours in the dark, fingertips lazing over your brow, your cheeks, your lips. He lingers and you bask in it, but you know what this is.

This is the goodbye.

And a twinge of something – not pain, not regret, but something – fills your chest and makes your eyes sting. Your lower lip wobbles and it’s stupid. Stupid enough to prompt you to roll onto your back to put a bit of distance between yourself and this beautiful, beautiful man stretched out next to you. You stare up at the ornate ceiling fan and cough lightly in a vain attempt to clear the tightness in your throat.

“Two hours and thirty-five minutes,” he says.

You furrow your brow, “What?”

“A flight from Illinois to Florida,” Frankie explains. “Assuming average speed accounting for eastward headwinds… Yeah, two hours and thirty-five minutes.”

You take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Frankie’s pinky finds yours amongst the sheets, and you turn onto your side to face him. There’s something between you. An attraction, to be sure, but now, an unexpected, mutual desire to see each other again. To not let this moment be the last moment. Even if it doesn’t make any sense, even if it’s crazy, even if you don’t know him, he doesn’t know you, and neither one of you knows where it’ll lead…  

“I’ve never been in a helicopter before,” you tell him. “What’s it like?”

“Amazing. Loud. Windy,” he replies, lips twitching. “You might need your bonnet.”

You smile. And Frankie smiles back.

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fic #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

[spacemilkies]

Good Kitty

pairing: Earth—42!Miles Morales x BlackCat!Reader wc: 3k+ rating: teen a/n: another fandom, another trap. I plan for this to be a non-linear series. Feel free to send prompts for this pairing!

synopsis:

Spider-man? Never heard of him. You were Black Cat. And what you did know was that it was never a good idea to leave a world in a man's hands.

A sigh escapes your lips, a sound not born out of exhaustion but rather from the depths of sheer boredom as you shifted your weight and rolled onto your side. The warm rays of the setting sun spilled through the window, enveloping you in a soft, golden embrace. If only you had chosen to cast your gaze outward, you would have been met with a rare spectacle—a breathtaking panoramic view of the magnificent Manhattan skyline.

Less than three years had passed since you had walked the halls of your high school, a graduate filled with shattered aspirations and dry pool of dreams. Back then, the mere notion of such a view, of standing amidst the towering giants that graced the New York City skyline, was nothing short of a fantastical dream. It was a dream that seemed elusive, almost laughable, considering the harsh realities of life that had once deprived you of even the simplest means to put food on the table.

And perhaps, deep down, you still carried a glimmer of disbelief, a lingering doubt that whispered in the recesses of your mind. But as you lay there, basking in the gentle warmth of the sun's caress, you couldn't deny the profound sense of fulfillment that coursed through your veins. It wasn't solely the outcome that brought you satisfaction, but rather the journey itself, the arduous path you had traversed, and the resilience you had shown in embracing your roots.

For it had been surprisingly effortless, slipping back into the embrace of your origins, your identity intertwined with the vibrant tapestry of this city. The laughter that echoed within you was tinged with a certain fondness, an acknowledgement of the simplicity and ease with which you had found your place within this bustling metropolis. The streets, once unfamiliar and daunting, had become your familiar pathways, the very pulse of life flowing through your veins.

Your mother, a beacon of strength in the face of adversity, had tirelessly striven to keep you on the straight and narrow. The echoes of your father's incarceration still resonated within the corridors of your memory, a haunting reminder of the tumultuous path your family had been forced to tread. In those fragile years of your middle school days, the familiar embrace of modest living had been abruptly torn asunder, thrusting you all into the unforgiving shallows of Brooklyn's reality.

It was during those trying times that your mother, fueled by an indomitable spirit, took it upon herself to forge a path of honest labor. Her determination was nothing short of admirable, a testament to her unwavering love for her family. Yet, with every stride she took to ensure your well-being, the sacrifices etched themselves deeply into your collective existence. The simple pleasures that others took for granted, like an abundance of food on the table or shoes that conformed to the suggested lifespan, became luxuries beyond your reach.

Life, you discovered, was a merciless game where the cards were often dealt by the devil himself. It was a relentless battle against the odds, an unyielding struggle to make ends meet and find solace amidst the unrelenting tempest. And yet, your mother stood tall, weathering each storm with a determination that defied the very fabric of fate. She taught you resilience, instilled within you a fire that refused to be extinguished.

But even as you marveled at her strength, you couldn't help but question the cosmic forces that seemed intent on testing your resolve. The burdens that weighed upon your shoulders were never meant to be borne by the innocent. They were the unjust consequences of a world that cared little for the plight of those who fought against the currents of adversity.

For you had come to understand that while life may not always be fair, it is in the face of adversity that true character is forged. It is in the crucible of struggle that you discover the strength within, the power to rise above the hand you've been dealt.

Now, in the lap of luxury, you resided amidst opulence and excess, surrounded by an abundance of trinkets and baubles that stretched beyond the boundaries of imagination. The intricately woven rug beneath your feet held within its fibers the potential to feed your family for a year, and the resplendent chandelier suspended above the table embodied a fortune twice the worth. You lived ensconced in comfort, a world where your wants had transformed into ceaseless indulgences.

Yet, amidst this abundance, a sense of frustration gnawed at your core. The material wealth and extravagance that once held allure had now lost its luster, leaving you restless and longing for something more. The very essence of your existence now seemed devoid of purpose.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining," came the voice of your roommate and fellow thief, Tamara Blake, as she cast her shadow over you. For her, the thrill of the heist held a different significance. In her philosophy, as long as the wealthy continued to amass riches, there would always be treasures to claim. But you sensed that she, too, shared the underlying sentiment of disillusionment, the desire to divert her gaze from the chaotic world unfurling beyond their plush surroundings. It was another reason why you chose this apartment—a sanctuary that shielded you from the harsh realities of the world, yet one that you found difficult to leave behind entirely.

Brooklyn held memories you struggled to confront. It was the resting place of your mother, a place that felt simultaneously distant and unwelcoming. Your gaze barely grazed the surface of the deep neckline of the chiffon dress, its shimmering diamond necklace nestled in the hollow, before you turned your attention back to the river's expanse.

"Nah," you replied, dismissing the notion of joining Tamara on another exhilarating score. The thrill that once electrified your every heist had dissipated, leaving behind a hollowness that even your absence failed to disrupt. The vast fortunes amassed over time would sustain you and your descendants for generations to come. It had become nothing more than a game—a sport devoid of meaning.

"Alright, I probably won't be home tonight then," she added.

Your rested your chin against the crook of your elbow as your gaze fixated on the final ferry gliding into the dock. "Oh, you're playing with your prey this time?"

Tamara's laughter cut through the air, sharp as glass. "Hardly. I expect him to succumb before it reaches that point, but alas."

You grumbled halfheartedly as her hand affectionately tousled your tousled hair. "Want me to bring your favorite hors d'oeuvres home?"

The thought of clams and puff pastries, once delectable and enticing, now held little appeal, particularly after a day spent tucked away in an expensive clutch. "Don't bother," you dismissed, the notion hardly worth entertaining.

"Very well, then. Don't get caught up," Tamara admonished, securing a last-minute addition to her wrist—an exquisite pearl bracelet procured from last spring's collection.

"Then I wouldn't be worth my weight in diamonds," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of mischief and the thrill of a life lived on the edge. As Tamara departed, a whirlwind of confidence in her wake, you remained seated, contemplating the choices that led you to this gilded existence. Amidst the emptiness that lingered within, a flicker of longing danced in your eyes, a silent plea for purpose to infuse meaning into the richness that surrounded you.

—ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ —

Once again, it is the relentless grip of boredom that finds you perched atop the towering edifices, surveying the disarray that has befallen Brooklyn. The supple leather of your suit clings to your thighs, molding to your form as you shift on the balls of your feet. Since the tragic downfall of Captain Morales, the city you once called home has become a fragmented tapestry of desolation, where memories have been reduced to ashen ruins.

There was a time when you entertained the notion of relinquishing your feline-inspired guise in exchange for a cloak of righteousness, a chance to become the hooded vigilante who championed the downtrodden. The romantic notion of stealing from the wealthy and bestowing upon the destitute held a certain allure, a homage to the age-old tales of justice. But the harsh reality came crashing down upon you with unforgiving force, as your first and only act of benevolence was unceremoniously discarded in the merciless rain. In those moments, the wound inflicted upon your spirit ran deep, an ache that lingered as a phantom pain from a life best left behind.

Now, you stand upon the precipice of a new era—a time where strength and self-reliance have become the pillars upon which you build your existence. No longer shackled by the burdens of altruism, you have embraced a philosophy of self-preservation. You have forged a path that revolves solely around your own well-being, a truth that resonates as the sweetest symphony within your soul.

In this solitude, high above the city that bears the scars of its own unraveling, you revel in the power that courses through your veins. Your senses heightened, you become keenly aware of every movement in the urban symphony below—a cacophony of life that swirls in discordant harmony. The distant sirens wail like mournful ghosts, intermingling with the screech of car tires against asphalt and the rhythmic hum of electricity pulsating through the veins of the metropolis.

Brooklyn, once a tapestry of memories, now lies before you in a state of perpetual flux—a testament to the fragility of existence and the transient nature of human aspirations. As you peer into the depths of the city's heart, you can almost taste the bitterness that permeates the air, mingling with the grit of determination and the acrid residue of lost dreams.

The night holds a different air tonight, as if the very fabric of the city has absorbed the collective unease and transformed it into an eerie calmness. The absence of screams that once reverberated through the alleys and streets transforms your rooftop traversal into a bittersweet journey down memory lane, a respite from the haunting nightmares that plagued your mind. There is no concrete reason why you find yourself here, navigating the labyrinthine paths above the cityscape. It is not mere boredom that fuels your actions tonight; there is something deeper, an indescribable longing that propels you forward.

And then, it happens—a moment that seizes your heart and halts your relentless stride. The city below unfolds before your vigilant gaze, and you notice a stark difference in the illuminated windows. A somber darkness has settled over the once vibrant tapestry of lights. Fear or the cruel whim of fate, it is impossible to discern. Yet, amidst the shadows, two windows stand out, each holding a story of its own.

One window, its fractured pane a testament to the scars of a volatile past, remains enigmatically shrouded. Your pulse quickens as memories of bittersweet delicacies flood your senses. The rich aroma of sweet potato-filled empanadas mingles with the tantalizing scent of sweet strawberry horchata. It is an intoxicating blend that tugs at your heartstrings, evoking a yearning for the familiarity and warmth that resides within. Though you know it to be a trick of the mind, the illusionary fragrance lingers, teasing your senses, rendering your heart heavy with emotions you dare not fully embrace. The mask upon your face serves as a barrier, futilely attempting to shield your eyes from the rawness that seeps through.

Refusing to linger in the grip of nostalgia, you forcefully wipe away the moisture that accumulates upon your face, an act rendered useless by the relentless saturation beneath your mask. Your resolve remains unyielding as you avert your gaze, no longer willing to succumb to the power of longing. Instead, your body surges forward, propelled by the strength that resides within, fingers grazing against the unforgiving asphalt as your form glides through the air with an effortless grace.

In this nocturnal ballet, your movements become an expression of resilience and purpose. The open patch of land, a realm teeming with untold stories and unspoken truths, lies just a few blocks away, yet you refuse to let your gaze wander in that direction.

With every stride, every leap, you embrace the freedom that comes with embracing the unknown. The night is your canvas, and you, the spider-inspired maestro, weave a symphony of vigilance and determination against the backdrop of a city that both loves and fears you.

On this side of Brooklyn, the streets held little intrigue for you, their worn pathways offering no solace in your relentless pursuit. Even within the confines of your own neighborhood, the prospect of an exhilarating hunt seemed dim. Your father's voice, a reverberating echo from the past, cautioned against playing where you slept, reminding you of the chaotic aftermath such endeavors left in their wake. His words were etched into your consciousness, a reminder of the perils that lurked within the realm of familiarity.

There was a time when you entertained the audacious notion of orchestrating your father's liberation. The notion of liberating a person, unlike pilfering a diamond-encrusted necklace, required meticulous planning and a trusted accomplice. But such an endeavor held little appeal for Tamara, whose worth in diamonds was a currency she held dear. Moreover, your correspondence with your father had dwindled to naught since your mother's untimely passing. While a prison break would undoubtedly pave the way for a long-awaited reunion, the stakes were high, and failure would plunge you both into a deeper abyss.

And yet, acceptance became your constant companion.

With a brief transition bridging the divide, your body once again guides you toward a familiar destination. You descend with practiced silence, landing softly on the worn planks of the fire escape. Gazing upon the abandoned building before you, the passage of time seems inconsequential. Its dilapidated facade holds a steadfast resilience, much like the memories you have forged within its decaying walls.

A murmur escapes your lips, barely audible, as you tread the path of reminiscence. Scaling the railing, your eyes fixate on the far corner, where a metal-plated vent rests inconspicuously. To the untrained eye, it would go unnoticed, a hidden entrance designed to challenge only the most intrepid souls. Those with arachnophobia or a discomfort for confined spaces would instinctively shy away, blissfully ignorant of its true purpose.

But you are one of the few who knows its secrets, aware that this unassuming vent conceals a passage into the depths beyond. Though your high school physique was more forgiving, you now possess an agility honed by relentless practice. With calculated finesse, you squeeze through the narrow tunnel of darkness, your body adapting to the constricting confines. The sudden drop-off awaits at the end, but you navigate it with unwavering poise, balancing precariously upon a narrow beam before gracefully leaping to the next, traversing the chasm with the assurance of a seasoned acrobat.

Upon reaching the topmost floor, a sense of coziness envelops you, but the space feels confined compared to the open expanse below. With practiced grace, you lower yourself, hanging from the sturdy beam, preparing for a seamless roll upon landing. Yet, your focus wavers, captivated by a peculiar sight.

"When did someone mend that?"

Your gaze fixates on the highest window, where a marginal break had been repaired. Its elevated position renders it impractical as an entry point, rendering its restoration all the more puzzling. Even the building's original occupants never saw fit to address it. The mended window sparks a cascade of questions, igniting your curiosity like a flame dancing upon the wick.

But as the ancient adage warns, curiosity holds the power to slay the feline.

Fortune smiles upon you, for the highest floor boasts the lowest ceilings, mitigating the impact of your roll as your body gracefully meets the floor. Gasping for air, you summon oxygen to replenish your lungs, knees resting on the ground as you survey your surroundings. Every corner brims with potential danger, and your instincts sharpen, seeking out the source of the disturbance.

A flicker of shadow dances at the edge of your vision, fleeting and elusive. Was it a mere play of light, a figment of your imagination? Uncertainty lingers, but one thing is certain: this place is no longer the sanctuary of your childhood. Its innocence has been usurped by an unseen menace, lurking in the forgotten crevices of this once-abandoned edifice.

The air gradually fills your chest, accompanied by wheezes of exertion, as you rise unsteadily to your feet. Your options unfold before you like a complex tapestry, each exit tainted with newfound doubt. The doors you once presumed accessible may now be sealed shut, the floorboards that once creaked beneath your weight, fortuitously silent. Whoever now occupies this space possesses a heightened awareness, their presence a palpable threat that chills the air.

The distorted sound of soft clicks resonates in the air, an eerie melody designed to unsettle you. It plays with your senses, toying with your perception of reality. The voice, dripping with arrogance and disdain, pierces the silence like a venomous serpent.

"I'm afraid we have no need for strays here. We're more than capable of handling our own rat problem."

With a swift, fluid motion, you drop into a defensive stance, ready to face whatever adversary dares challenge you. Your words, laced with defiance, spill forth from clenched teeth, "Cute that you think you can afford my pedigree."

The source of the voice remains elusive, a phantom lurking in the shadows. The disadvantage of being grounded gnaws at your instincts, urging you to regain the upper hand.

"Pedigree? In Brooklyn? Don't make me laugh."

The calculated movements of the unseen presence further shroud their location, deliberately traversing the beams above to obscure their tracks. In response, you coil closer to the ground, making your body smaller, while your gaze darts around, searching for any sign, any clue.

Your voice adopts a tone you reserve for targets, laced with a hint of intrigue and the promise of a challenge. It dances through the air, light and airy, as you remark, "Maybe you should. Your voice sounds enticing. Hopefully, your wit matches it."

A scoff of disdain echoes in return, prickling your nerves, a telltale sign that your words have struck a nerve.

"Does that work for you?"

The voice has shifted, now above you, the mysterious figure closing in, inching ever closer to your vulnerable position on the ground.

"It depends. Come closer, and I'll be more than happy to provide you with a demonstration."

A heavy silence descends upon the space, laden with tension and uncertainty. You are ill-prepared for this encounter, having ventured into this treacherous corner of Brooklyn without your customary utilities. The realization of your own recklessness washes over you, a bitter reminder of the risks you have taken.

Yet, if they dare attempt to confine a cat in a wet bag, you will unleash all the fury and resilience that resides within you.

"If you insist."

They remained perched above, their position granting them a vantage point to observe your every move. As the impending strike hurtles towards you, a fleeting glimmer of purple catches your eye. Instinctively, you duck beneath the incoming attack, narrowly evading its trajectory. The clash of limbs reverberates through the air as you block their follow-up assault, your own clawed glove extending in a retaliatory gesture. Their speed is astonishing, an awe-inspiring display that leaves you momentarily off balance, seized by the collar and hoisted over their shoulder.

Yet, you are not caught off guard. Prepared for this impact, you roll onto your back with practiced grace, positioning yourself strategically as they hover above you. Both of you conceal your identities behind masks, but their assailant garb does a superior job of obscuring their true self. While your mind races to decipher the symbol adorning their attire, you sense an equal curiosity emanating from beneath their weight, solid and imposing.

Baring your teeth, you hiss defiantly, a mixture of challenge and provocation dripping from your words, "So you enjoy it rough, do you?"

A cocky tilt of their chin betrays their confidence as they respond, "Most men do."

This close the vague familiarity of the voice behind the mask gnaws at you. Though the speculation is faint as you calculate your next move.

A man then.

You could work with that.

Knowing that a headbutt would yield no victor, you tap into your resourcefulness, employing your body with precision. Your foot connects with a swift strike to his solar plexus, jolting them momentarily and creating the necessary space for you to wriggle free. As you roll a few feet away, maintaining a safe distance, the sound of a wheeze escapes his masked lips. With a taunting tone, you tease, "Aw, poor baby. Has the cat got your tongue? Men always finish so soon."

Tension tenses his shoulder as he regains his footing, a charge of determination propelling his advance. His arm grips your shoulder, preparing to toss you once more. Yet, you possess the agility to seize the opportunity, pivoting with agility and daring, aligning your back with his chest, sacrificing a vulnerable position for the advantage it grants. The motion of your next move is intended to disrupt their balance, your leg deftly splitting his thighs as you attempt to shove them backward. However, your calculation of his resilience proves inaccurate, as he fiercely bring you down alongside him.

Effortlessly, he rolls atop you, overpowering your defenses, pinning your arm back with ease. His voice drips with smugness as they taunt, "You're right. You are pedigree. What do they call you? A ragdoll?"

The curl of his self-satisfied smirk ignites a blazing fire within you, fueling your determination as you squirm beneath his weight. "Still not close enough. Allow me to enlighten you," you hiss, your voice laced with an unsettling sweetness.

His hand presses against your head, drawing dangerously close. A slip-up, a momentary vulnerability that becomes your catalyst for escape. Your nails claw into the flesh of his arm, exerting force until the compressed nerve yields, weakening his left side. Taking advantage their loosened grip, you unleash a powerful back kick, squirming free from his grasp.

Now afforded the precious gift of space, you act swiftly, nimbly scaling the wall with a determination born from necessity. The strain on your arm protests the swinging motion, but you persevere, perching yourself just out of their reach on a low-bearing beam. Your chest heaves with exertion, a telltale sign of the intensity of the encounter. There is a captivating allure to the figure before you, an air of knowingness that radiates from his composed demeanor as he casually rolls his shoulders, shaking off the impact of your attack.

Even from their position below, he maintains the advantage, a fact he is acutely aware of. Yet, for reasons unbeknownst to you, he refrains from exploiting it, at least for now. "Crafty entrance," the voice remarks, revealing his knowledge of the vent. This realization dawns upon you, highlighting the indicators you carelessly overlooked. This building is undoubtedly inhabited, but the question remains—why?

"I wasn't aware someone was watching. I would have put on a better show," you retort, a playful hint in your voice.

"It was rewarding enough," he counters, his words dripping with a hint of intrigue. You envision the angle of your contorted body, the spectacle it must have presented to an observer. Indicators often accompany additional security measures, yet they allowed you to stumble into the trap instead of springing it prematurely.

"I tend to prefer finer things, but I can appreciate prime real estate. New owner?" you inquire, a note of curiosity lacing your words.

The figure leisurely crosses his arms, providing you with a slightly clearer glimpse beneath the moon's gentle illumination. Shades of dark purple shroud his form, obscuring detailed features, yet you discern a lithe and agile build. "Something like that," he responds, his tone light but tinged with an underlying sense of boredom. "It's time for you to be a good kitty and run off. I'm not fond of house cats."

His words resonate within you, as if he had plucked the thoughts from your mind. Though you had initially been poised to retreat toward the familiar path from which you came, an uncharacteristic trust in this enigmatic stranger tugs at your instincts. There is an inexplicable feeling that assures you it will be alright, that survival is not merely wishful thinking. Alternatively, you may be sealing your own fate, and Tamara would revel in newfound wealth.

"That's a shame," you remark, as you feel his eyes trailing after you as you cautiously pry open the vent. Even though he is out of sight, his presence lingers, his words carving ripples in the air.

His next statement leaves you with a wry smile, "Funny you say that. I thought you were too expensive for my taste."

As you wriggle back through the vent, ensuring a seamless exit, the metal sheet slams shut, sealing off the passage behind you. The cool breath of Brooklyn's night air embraces your heated skin, invigorating your senses. In an instant, you spring into action, traversing the building with a swiftness born of instinct and experience. Every stride, every leap, carries you closer to the boundary of your neighborhood.

Yet, in the depths of your being, something stirs—a sensation more profound than mere boredom.

Curiosity.

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #prowler miles

[wackyharpy]

Solicitude

Eric (Divergent) x Fem! Reader

Summary: Eric takes care of his girlfriend after the hard day.

To find more stories — masterlist

A/N: English isn't my native language. I'm obsessed with this man, oh gods! Needed to write something like this. I'd be very happy for your comments and reblogs. Enjoy :)

Warnings ⚠️

NSFW 18+, fingering, p in v sex, she/her pronouns.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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She enters their shared apartment late in the evening locking the door. Muscles all over the body ache after hard trainings with the squad she's part of. Their commander always keeps them fit.

She finished her initiation taking the third place on the rankings board. Such success for a girl, who was one of the two among other male initiates, ended up with her becoming a part of the squad of the special purpose for secret missions.

Since the day their commander chose her, he has never regretted. It was a right decision. She is smart and witty — former Erudite — calm and placid — a perfect person not to blab plans and inside scoop.

Additionally, she's the youngest leader's girlfriend.

To start relationships with Eric wasn't an easy decision, but two years have already passed and they're still together. Unexpectedly, Eric has turned out to be a simple person to live with. Yes, the character he has, sometimes drives her crazy, although it's not the problem that can't be solved. He's dominant, intimidating and frightening, as he was the first time she met him during the initiation.

Nevertheless, she's discovered much more other facets of his personality. He's not just that cruel leader everybody is used to seeing him. Eric can cook — the first thing that surprised her a lot. He's a good listener and adviser. He motivates her to work and to become a better version of herself — she appreciates time they spend together in the gym where he shares his knowledge of how to obtain skillfulness in fighting, shooting, plotting plans and strategies.

They've learned how to be a leader and a subordinate, a mentor and a student outside the walls of their apartment. But here, they're only Eric and her. Just a boyfriend and his girlfriend.

She walks deeper in the room greeting Eric who is finishing dinner in the kitchen area. Dim lights of lanterns illuminate the space along with the moon whose rays permeate into through the panoramic windows — their apartment is situated on the upper floors of Dauntless compartment.

She rubs red weary eyes with her calloused palms, and sits at the table in the dining area. Exhales heavily. Eric places a plate with baked salmon and veggies in front of her. He constantly pays attention to her diet for her to have energy and be healthy.

"Thanks," she smiles warmly.

Being a leader, he's never provided her with advantages that may assist her easily gain a position in Dauntless. Some people may consider, she got her place in the squad because of Eric, though that's not true. Her efforts are the reason she's there. The only benefits she has is access to products of high-quality, good clothes, domicile and protection.

She eats every now and then looking at sharp features of Eric's face, at his perfect nose and slightly plump lips, at his cheekbones which she adores to contour with the finger. Her eyes go down viewing vividly black tattoos on the neck. She feels how something is tugging in the lower abdomen.

"Eat your meal. Stop gazing at me," she hears his voice's deep timbre. Abruptly, her cheeks turn pink and she chuckles. She sees how a perfect line of Eric's lips twitches in a smirk.

"Salmon is really good," she praises dinner.

"Mhm... received two fresh fish this morning."

***

They finish dinner and clean the table, then do the washing-up together. Eric hides two plates in the shelf above the faucet and turns to her immediately embracing her little petite figure with his strong arms.

"Tired?" The serene tone of his voice soothes her.

She cuddles closer to his chest smelling a pleasant male scent, and just nods. She feels a soft kiss on her forehead, and then Eric rises her from the ground taking to the bathroom.

After brushing their teeth — they've got used to do all this plain routine together, the couple gets ready to take the shower. Eric turns on water and begins to undress her. She yawns finally feeling how much her muscles are strained, in need of rest. Hooded eyes watch how Eric attentively takes off all of her clothes, then undresses himself.

He's not a type of guy to say "love you" and other sweet nothings about his feelings, but she doesn't need that. She's got used to his own tongue of showing love and affection.

Before stepping into the shower cabin, Eric checks the temperature of water, only then leads her inside along with him. She closes her eyes relaxing under warm streams realizing how much her body's got exhausted. Eric massages her shoulders gently once in a while placing kisses on them, her neck, or back. He helps to soothe knots in her strained muscles. She sighs contendetly leaning back on his powerful chest. She feels that Eric is smiling, feels his tender touching on her hips and stomach. She enjoys such moments when he takes a lead, dominates but gently, and looks after her. At times like this, she feels safe and peaceful.

After the shower, he dries her wrapping in the soft towel. Eric takes her face and kisses her affectionately and possessively.

"Fancy sex?" His look is demanding and piercing.

She bites her lower lip that doesn't escape Eric's attention.

She nods, also adding:

"But I'm too tired to be active in bed."

He is silent for several seconds, just rubs her cheeks with the thumbs. Then responds:

"I'll take care of you."

With these words, he leads her to their bed that stands opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows. She sinks in the black linen that smells of them. After coming into contact with the duvet, her head and eyelids suddenly feel heavy. Drowsiness washes over her, foggy curtain falls onto her eyes.

Eric lies beside her and she immediately snuggles her nose into his bicep closing her eyes, giving her whole body to him. He unwraps the towel revealing her steamed, after the shower, body.

His calloused hand creases her breasts, plays with her already hard nipples and then goes down reaching her labia. Eric rubs them leisurely watching her reactions. She's a bit sleepy, though still reacts to his movements gasping quietly. He finds her pulsating clit giving it proper attention until her pussy is wet enough to insert two fingers inside. Her moist insides welcome them and he starts gentle but steady movements back and forth. She breathes out, moans a little, and Eric looms his head over brushing his lips against hers.

"Like it?"

"Mhm," she cuddles closer, still keeping her eyes closed.

"Open your legs wider," he commands whispering.

She obediently does as he orders. His thrusts become faster. She feels hotness rushing to her core, something tugs, then her walls clench, and she releases sticky juices orgasming. She exhales heavily feeling pleasant relief.

Eric takes out his fingers spreading clammy liquid of her pussy all over her entrance and inner labia. He pumps his already hard dick for some time and settles himself comfortably between her lean legs. He rubs pinkish head of the cock against her drenched folds, then starts intruding with his member inside.

Eric bites his lower lip feeling how her enjoyable tightness wraps his member. They both gasp. He looms over her hiding her safely from the world conquering all her senses with only his presence.

"Eric..." sweet moan of hers.

His thrusts are slow and gentle — he's not planning to make rough sex tonight. He wants her to enjoy herself, relax, and ultimately sleep peacefully.

#eric coulter #eric divergent #eric x reader #divergent movie #divergent fanfiction #divergent fandom #divergent #jai courtney #jai courtney fanfiction #jai courtney imagines

[theferrarieffect]

jealousy, jealousy - chapter 10: monaco sure is pretty this time of year

masterlist

previous chapter

summary: imagine your love being so inspiring it gives other people hope...

chapter 10: monaco sure is pretty this time of year

Max had lived in Monaco since almost the day he turned 18. But as he watched Charles bounding up the slope of the Tête de Chien, gasping at the panoramic view below despite it undoubtedly being the hundredth time he’d seen it, it occurred to him that he had never lived there.

Until now.

On a precious free day before the Grand Prix weekend, Charles made good on his promise, holding Max’s hands as he helped him climb onto Charles’ yacht. He had donned one of his many paisley bandanas—this one white, with swirling patterns of blue—and his messy curls flapped in the wind as he steered them along the French Riviera. Max appreciated the view of the golden sands on the beach, the colorful umbrellas crowding the shoreline, the smooth road that hugged the coast…almost as much as the sight of Charles undoing the buttons on his pale blue shirt, grinning at Max as he raised his tanned biceps overhead, and effortlessly diving into the turquoise water.

“WOOOOOOOO!” came a jubilant cry from below.

Max followed suit, just knowing Charles would be lying in wait underwater to ambush him. The pair emerged on the surface laughing breathlessly, treading the water as one.

Charles pointed to the distance. The sky had blessed them with an utterly cloudless day; Max squinted as he focused on the horizon, where the endless sky met the sea. It was the clearest, bluest thing he’d ever seen.

“You know, Max,” Charles said, gently pushing a lock of dripping hair back up Max’s forehead.

“Mm?”

“I changed my mind. The ocean has nothing on your eyes.”

Max was right. It was nice to see La Mala together.

It was the nicest thing that had ever happened to him in his whole life.

epilogue

George and Alex stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the tangerine sun slowly sink below the horizon. Its very last rays filtered through Alex’s bleached hair, turning it a glowing, fiery red. George’s heart ached just a little bit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max milling around the paddock aimlessly like an unmoored ship, tapping his foot. His patience was eventually rewarded when a driver emerged from the Ferrari hospitality; Max’s joy was practically palpable as he raced over to Charles with a now barely noticeable limp. George knew without having to look that Charles was grinning from ear to ear, and that an arm clad in a Red Bull suit would casually lope around the Monégasque’s shoulders.

“La Mala, here we come!” he thought he heard Charles say distantly.

Nothing was ever guaranteed in Formula 1. You could wake up one morning and find out you’re off the team, off the grid, just like that. Waiting for the perfect opportunity, waiting for exactly the right time…god, George thought, we could all just be gone by then.

He looked at Max and Charles striding away from the paddock hand in hand, then back again at Alex, and made himself a promise.

I’m going to do it. Before the end of the season. I’m going to tell Alex that kiss wasn’t just silly—wasn’t just casual—to me.

I’m going to tell him I love him.

notes: so it's probably not surprising the next fic's gonna be george x alex...right? 😅

this is a little bit personal, but i wanted to say that as someone who always loved writing for fun but ended up in the most stem field to ever stem, it was too easy to push it to the back burner over the years. don’t get me wrong, i love practicing medicine and doing The Science™️…but writing this has been an incredibly cathartic experience; it was like resurrecting the creative part of me that i thought had died for good.

what i didn’t expect was to have the idea to share my writing, to allow total strangers to read (and hopefully enjoy) it. this community has some incredible talent, and i’m so very grateful to have discovered it, and even more so to each and every one of you who joined me on the absolutely wild ride of bringing my first f1 story to life. so much love to y’all 🫶 i can’t wait to keep being creative with you.

inspo: charles’ sun-soaked day in monaco, courtesy of this video

taglist: @fangirl-dot-com @spacegirlstuff @vroomvroomgang @perfectlyrainywerewolf

#f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #f1blr #lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #george russell #lando norris #alex albon #red bull racing #red bull f1 #twitch quartet #max x charles #charles and max #mvwc #mv1 #mv33 #cl16 #ferrari #oracle red bull racing #formula one #carlos sainz #jealousy jealousy #yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[rz-jocelyn]

[NEWS] Live Spectacle NARUTO: The Content and Previews of Bonus Bromides for the "Live Spectacle NARUTO ~Shinobi no Ikiru Michi~" Blu-ray/DVD have been Released

Release Date: April 24, 2023

TYPES

Animate Limited Set (Blu-ray/DVD): 11,330 yen / 10,230 yen

Main BD/DVD

Special booklet *

Animate special bonus DVD

Limited Edition (Blu-ray/DVD): 10,780 yen / 9,680 yen

Main BD/DVD

Special booklet *

* The special booklet that is included with the Blu-ray/DVD is different from the performance pamphlet that can be found: HERE

BLU-RAY/DVD CONTENT

Main Disc (BD/DVD)

"Live Spectacle NARUTO ~Shinobi no Ikiru Michi~" grand finale performance

Bonus Disc (DVD)

Making and backstage footage

Opening + Valley of the End + singing scenes (Uzumaki Naruto version)

Opening + Valley of the End + singing scenes (Uchiha Sasuke version)

Animate Bonus Disc

"Live Spectacle NARUTO ~Shinobi no Ikiru Michi~" grand finale performance panoramic view

Cast camera footage

NOTE: The Animate bonus disc is only available with the Animate Limited Set.

ADDITIONAL IN-STORE BONUS AND SALES LINKS

Animate

Onstage Bromide Set:

Nakao Masaki as Uzumaki Naruto

Sato Ryuji as Uchiha Sasuke

Ito Yui as Haruno Sakura

Kimisawa Yuki as Hatake Kakashi

Daigo Cecile as Tsunade

Ise Daiki as Uchiha Obito

Kitazono Ryo as Namikaze Minato (Fourth Hokage)

Hiro Yuumi as Orochimaru

To pre-order/purchase the BD/DVD from Animate, please refer to the links below.

Animate Limited Set (Blu-ray): HERE

Animate Limited Set (DVD): HERE

Limited Edition (Blu-ray): HERE

Limited Edition (DVD): HERE

ANIPLEX+

Onstage Bromide Set:

Nakao Masaki as Uzumaki Naruto

Sato Ryuji as Uchiha Sasuke

Naya Takeru as Gaara

Kitamura Keigo as A

Koyanagi Shin as Killer B

Maeda Ryuutarou as Hozuki Suigetsu

Nanaki Kanon as Karin

Nakamura Seijiro as Uchiha Madara

To pre-order/purchase the BD/DVD from ANIPLEX+, please refer to this link: HERE

Amazon

Onstage Bromide Set:

Nakao Masaki as Uzumaki Naruto

Sato Ryuji as Uchiha Sasuke

Sena as Hyuuga Hinata

Ikeoka Ryousuke as Nara Shikamaru

Kojima Sari as Yamanaka Ino

Kawai Ryuunosuke as Senju Tobirama

Tsukada Tomoki as Sarutobi Hiruzen

Kyou Nobuo as Senju Hashirama

To pre-order/purchase the BD/DVD from Amazon, please refer to the links below.

Limited Edition (Blu-ray): HERE

Limited Edition (DVD): HERE

* Ensure that the link leads to the BD/DVD which says "(オリジナル特典：「舞台写真ブロマイドセット」付)" as this is the version with the bonus onstage bromide set.

NOTE: For more information about the proxy services available in Japan, please refer to this link: HERE

Source(s): ( x , x , x , x )

#Live Spectacle NARUTO #Narusute #Sato Ryuji #Nakao Masaki #Uchiha Sasuke #Uzumaki Naruto

[dentistctscan]

Check out Gravatar profile to know about our CBCT/CT Scan Los Angeles, orthodontic records, panoramic/intraoral X-Ray, etc services. To get in touch, call 818.386.8562

#Dental Diagnostic Imaging Center Los Angeles #Dental Radiology Los Angeles #CBCT/CT Scan Los Angeles #Panoramic/Intraoral X-Ray Los Angeles

[astronomia-nova]

The different Mars Rovers and what we learned

Sojourner (1997)

First rover to successfully land on Mars. Defined by NASA as a "micro-rover" due to its small size, Sojourner had a speed of maximum of 0.4 meters pr. minute. It was active for about 80 days on the surface of Mars.

Sojourner carried three cameras, an Atmospheric Structure Instrument (Meteorology Package) and an Alpha Proton X-ray Spectrometer. There instruments.

From Sojourner, NASA learned about the surface and weather conditions of Mars.

Sojourner found rounded rocks at the landing site, which suggests that running water could have been on Mars. The radio-tracking of Pathfinder (mission name) also gave an estimate of Mars' metal core's size (1300 kilometers to 2000 kilometers). It also discovered that the dust that is in the air on Mars is magnetic and possibly made up of mahemite. Sojourner also observed dust devils, ice clouds in the lower atmosphere and temperature fluctuations on the surface of Mars.

Spirit (2004-2010) and Opportunity (2004-2018)

Spirit was one of two Mars rovers launched in 2003 (mission started in 2004). The wheels on Spirit and Opportunity were about double the size of Sojourners. The weight of both rovers was about 17 times Sojourners, and more than double the size. Their goal on Mars was to search the surface for traces of past water. In 2009, Spirit got stuck in soil (in the area called Troy). In 2010, Spirit stopped communications, and the mission ended in 2011.

Opportunity was launched in 2004 along with Spirit but lasted much longer than their twin. Setting the record for the longest-lasting Mars rover, Opportunity stopped communications in 2018. Opportunity also set the record for the longest distance traveled by a rover, around 45 kilometers.

Like Sojourner, Spirit provided data about Mars' weather conditions, especially the wind. Both Spirit and Opportunity found evidence of possible conditions on Mars that could allow microbial life.

Spirit and Opportunity both had panoramic cameras, a thermal emission spectrometer, a Moessbauer spectrometer, an alpha particle X-ray spectrometer, and a microscopic imager.

Curiosity (2012-present)

Curiosity is currently the oldest active Mars rover (as of 21/07/2023) The main purpose of Curiosity is to figure out if Mars has the right environment for microbial lifeforms. Curiosity is currently exploring Gale Crater and had the most advanced instruments at the time. Curiosity has found evidence of water having been on Mars in the past, found old organic material, and discovered that Mars has had a thicker atmosphere in the past.

Curiosity can climb over knee-high obstacles and can go up to 30 meters per hour.

Curiosity carries a radioisotope power system to generate electricity, which gives the rover a steady electricity flow. Curiosity also carries 17 cameras, a laser, a drill, and 10 different instruments.

Perseverance (2021-present)

Perseverance is the newest Mars rover from NASA. The main goal for Perseverance is to research habitable conditions on Mars, but also for signs of past microbial life. The mission also tests possible options for future human expeditions on Mars (ex. improved landing techniques, producing oxygen from the atmosphere and environmental conditions).

The drill Perseverance used can collect samples and then set them aside for collection on the surface.

Zhurong (2021-2022)

Launched by the CNSA, Zhurong is the first Chinese Mars rover. In 2022 it became inactive due to sandstorms and the winter, which prevented it from waking at an appropriate temperature and good sunlight conditions.

Zhurong's mission was to study the topography, examine the surface (soil and elements), and take samples of the atmosphere. To do this it had a RoPeR (Mars Rover Penetrating Radar), RoMAG (Mars Rover Magnetometer), MCS (Mars Climate Station), MarSCoDE (Mars Surface Compound Detector), a multispectral camera and navigation and topography cameras. It also had a remote camera on board.

#astronomy #mars rover #sojourner #spirit #opportunity #curiosity #perseverance #zhurong #nasa #source: mars.nasa.gov #source:wikipedia #mainly for zhurong

[danversfamilydentist]

The Benefits of Panoramic X-Rays

Most, if not all, dental practices these days have embraced the latest advancements in technological equipment. These devices allow dentists and dental hygienists to prevent, diagnose, and treat issues pertaining to your teeth and gums far more accurately.

For more information about receiving panoramic x-rays in Danvers, get in touch with our dentist in Danvers today! Our staff will be happy to walk you through the process, so you know what it entails.

What is a Panoramic X-Ray?

As the name suggests, this specific type of x-ray takes two-dimensional (2D) photos of your entire mouth, just as a panoramic photo taken on with your camera captures all your surroundings. Unlike a standard x-ray that simple focuses on your mouth, panoramic x-rays include images of your mouth – more specifically, all your teeth, your upper and lower jaw, the temporomandibular joints (TMJ joints) in your face, the sinuses in your nose, and the bones that make up the rest of your head and neck.

Why Might I Need to Receive a Panoramic X-Ray?

Your dentist may recommend receiving panoramic x-rays near you for a variety of reasons, the most common reasons being the following:

1. For improved care.

2. Helps with early detection.

3. It’ll help prolong your life.

4. Helps discover changes in your oral health.

5. It’s useful for different stages and types of care.

Visit : https://www.danversfamilydental.com/the-benefits-of-panoramic-x-rays/

#dentist in Danvers #dentist near you #panoramic x-rays near you #panoramic x-rays in Danvers