#Simple Tooth Extraction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

k-nahriko · 4 months ago

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

Just a very amateur fanfic to practice my writing skills. Honestly, this kind of reflects my experience with getting my wisdom teeth extracted. Looking back on one of the bond stories with Zayne, he is clearly not a huge fan of the dentist, nor does he pay any mind to his own toothaches. I was curious about how MC would take care of Zayne after he had his wisdom teeth removed.

Synopsis: Considering how Zayne canonically acts when he's drunk, it's kind of silly, right? Think about it. It could go the same way when waking up from anesthesia. Heck, Zayne, being a cardiac surgeon, is well aware of how anesthesia affects people in general. So, I had the idea that MC, being his trusted caretaker for his own dental surgery, would put Zayne in a situation where he would be a bit nervous about how he may act when he's loopy on anesthesia.

Anyway, let me stop rambling. I wanted to write something very heartwarming and hopefully, it can be a decent read. This is just practice writing, after all.

Word Count: 2772

Content: female reader, SFW, sweet, cuddles, anesthesia talk, wisdom tooth removal surgery aftercare, drunk Zayne? (more like loopy Zayne)

5:30 am. It was a bright, early morning, and you were lounging on Zayne’s couch waiting for him to get ready. Today marked his appointment to have his wisdom teeth removed, and you were chosen to take care of him afterward.

The sound of Zayne shuffling into the living room alerted you to stand up. He was dressed warm and comfortable in a simple, thin sweater and pants. You notice him tugging at his sweater collar, and you can't help but point out the elephant in the room.

“Hey, are you nervous?” You step towards him with your hands clasped behind your back.

Upon hearing your teasing tone, Zayne tries his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. “It's not a big deal; it's just like any other visit to the dentist,” he answers as he clears his throat. You shake your head with a smile.

Ah, he is still the same as he was from his last visit to the dentist.

“Except, you’re going to be under anesthesia this time, and you’ll be super drowsy afterward. That’s why I’m here to make sure you don’t bump your head against the walls or say anything embarrassing.” You spread your palms across his broad chest, causing a soft blush to creep up on Zayne’s face and ears.

“And I do appreciate that you’re here. But I get the feeling that you're teasing me about how I might behave once I recover from anesthesia. It’s not like I’m going to be drunk.”

You let out a sheepish laugh as you recall a previous date with Zayne. You had offered him a piece of chocolate that contained traces of alcohol. While you did not intend for him to get drunk, he was very lightweight that night. If it weren’t for you, he would not have found his way back home.

Sure, his drunk behavior was silly and the things he said were out of the ordinary, but it made you curious about how anesthesia might affect him.

“I know, but I promise I’m just here to take care of you and make sure you’re okay.” You smooth out the rest of Zayne’s sweater and give him an affectionate pat. “Let’s get going! You don’t want to be late for check-in.”

You gently take Zayne’s hand and lead him out of the house to his car. Now, normally, he would be the one to drive, but knowing him, he would find any possible way to avoid the dentist. No way you were letting him get away that easily.

It was a chilly morning in Linkon City, and you tried to make the most of the 25-minute drive. You made no room for silence by asking Zayne about work or any movies you wanted to see together. Perhaps you could get Zayne’s mind off worrying for a little while.

You finally arrive at the oral surgeon clinic. Once you park the car, you feel Zayne’s hand enveloping yours. You respond with a loving squeeze and playfully jiggle his hand. “Hey, it's okay. I’ll be right here when you’re done. The doctors here will take good care of you.”

Zayne exhales and gives you a nod. You both exit the car and arrive in the lobby for check-in. You were greeted by the receptionist with a warm welcome. “Good morning. Are you checking in for an appointment?” The young woman hands you paperwork for patient sign-in and an anesthesia consent form.

“Yes, it’s under the name Zayne.” You turn your head to Zayne who is comfortably lounging on one of the lobby chairs. He lowers his head but you catch a faint blush forming on his face.

As you fill in the paperwork, the receptionist types away at her computer. “Perfect, I'll have him checked in. Has he fasted the night prior?”

Poor Zayne. You remembered to follow the doctors' instructions to prevent him from indulging in any food the night before. When you stayed overnight at Zayne's house, you chose to sleep in the living room, taking on the role of "kitchen guardian." It wasn't that you didn't trust Zayne, you just knew he could be a bit sneaky when it came to sweets, even in his home.

“Yes, he had nothing to eat or drink at all. I feel so bad for starving him.” As you hand the receptionist the completed paperwork, she gives you a reassuring smile.

“I understand. It is just for his safety when he's under anesthesia.” The receptionist continues typing on her computer and gives you a nod. “Alright, you can have a seat. I’ll let the doctor know you’re waiting.”

You thank the receptionist and take a seat next to Zayne, who appears a bit tense. Gently, you reach out and rub his left arm. Your heart sinks seeing him so nervous at his own doctor’s visit. But it’s normal; you’ve admitted that you also get anxious at the hospital. However, you’ve come to realize that with Zayne by your side, you feel a little less nervous, and you want him to feel relaxed with you.

“Hello, do I have Zayne here?” Your ears perked up as one of the nurses called for Zayne. He stood up from his seat and approached the nurse. “Yes, I’m here. She’s with me.”

The nurse clasped her hands, her eyes squinting as she smiled under her surgical mask. “Nice to see you again, Dr. Zayne. Just follow me, and I’ll lead you to the operating room.”

Zayne glances back at you in a brief attempt to look brave. You give him a thumbs up and mouth the words, “I’ll be right here.” He nods and follows the nurse to his operating room.

As he disappeared in the clinic hallway, you reclined in your lobby seat and scanned for any daily Wanderer reports from your hunter’s watch. Luckily, you were able to get the day off work to take care of Zayne. In addition, there were no Wanderer reports that raised any concern.

It felt like an hour had passed, and you were dozing off on the chair with your head resting on your palm. You suddenly hear your name being called by one of the nurses.

“Hey, sorry to wake you. But Zayne is all done with his procedure.”

You stretch your arms and walk up to the nurse. “Is Zayne doing alright?”

“Zayne is doing just fine. He is still very drowsy, so we’re just giving him a few more minutes.” She hands you a plastic medicine bag filled with prescription bottles holding painkillers and antibiotics, a curved syringe, and wads of gauze. She leads you to a separate room to give you further instructions. “I’ve given you his medication, mouth syringe, cotton balls, gauze, and some paper instructions on caring for him.”

The nurse points to the paper, neatly folded in the bag. You unfold the paper and read the instructions meticulously. The nurse continues to instruct you on keeping Zayne on a soft diet, making sure his gauze is changed, rinsing his mouth after eating, giving medication, and ice-packing his face to reduce swelling. The nurse is then alerted by the surgeon.

“Zayne is ready now. You can follow me.”

The surgeon smiles and leads you to the room where Zayne is resting. As you enter the recovery room, you find Zayne in quite a state. He is reclined in his chair, with small ice packs surrounding his face. He appears to be half asleep, and his cheeks are stuffed with thick gauze. You try your hardest not to laugh as he reminds you of a sleepy squirrel. Gently, you tap his shoulder. He slowly looks up at you and greets you with a slurred tone.

“It’s you, my love. Where have you been? I can't feel my face.” Zayne reaches his arms out to you as if he wants to be picked up.

What a sight this was. This was a little bit like how Zayne talked when he was drunk. Childish, but still so sweet. His voice was also a bit nasal with the gauze stuffing his cheeks.

You lower his arms down and hold his hands. “Hey, sweetie, I’m here to take you home.” You turn to face the surgeon as he enters the room. “Is he going to be talking like this for a while?”

The surgeon approaches and chuckles. “The anesthesia will make him loopy, but it should wear off in about 1 to 2 hours. So just be aware he will feel pain once that happens. Let’s help him get to the car.”

You went out to park the car by the curb outside the clinic building, and Zayne was brought to the passenger door in a wheelchair. You opened the car door and assisted Zayne into his seat, noticing that his limbs and body had the consistency of cooked udon noodles. You grabbed a neck pillow and a blanket from the back seat to ensure he was comfortable. Once Zayne was securely in his seat, you waved goodbye and thanked the dental clinic staff.

On the drive back home, Zayne rambled for what felt like 20 minutes about how much he missed you and how hungry he was. It was more lively than the drive to the oral surgeon clinic.

Upon arriving at Zayne’s house, you helped him to the front door, supporting him with your hand around his waist and his arm over your shoulder. You could feel his weight against you as he struggled to keep his balance. Despite holding him like a ragdoll, you managed to input the passcode to unlock the front door. You led him to his bedroom and tucked him in, patting his chest under the thick bed sheets before planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Now, just rest here. I’m going to heat the soup I bought you and make you a strawberry banana smoothie.”

You could hear Zayne slightly groan and rub his eyes. He reaches for your hand and requests with a slight squint in his eyes. “After I’m done napping, can you please buy me some macarons? I want the blue ones..”

You giggle and shake your head. It was like he was a little kid who was innocently begging for something sweet. Then again, you found it very endearing when Zayne was young at heart. You ruffle his hair before you exit his bedroom.

You wag a finger at him. “Sorry mister, doctor's orders state you can’t have macarons. They may be a soft dessert, but you shouldn’t have anything sugary until you recover! But I promise I’ll make the smoothie sweet enough for you.”

Zayne’s habit of indulging in his sugar cravings was no secret, but you were the one to call him out for it and keep him accountable. You both shared a love for sweets, but you could vouch that Zayne had the stronger sweet tooth.

You leave the room and enter Zayne’s kitchen to prepare his meal. The store-bought chicken noodle soup was boiling along with the blender, forming a smoothie from the fresh-cut fruit. It wasn’t uncommon that you were the person trusted most to care for Zayne, especially when he needed it.

For as long as he’s been your primary doctor, he’s insisted on taking care of you most of the time. This meant Zayne would barely take the time to take care of himself, whenever he got sick or hurt.

Especially when it came to his toothaches.

Zayne would mostly just brush it off or try to hide it from you. It was his nature to put others’ needs before his own, and it was something you always adored about him. But..

He shouldn’t ignore his health. A doctor must also be healthy to keep others healthy as well.

You twitch as you hear the creak of Zayne’s bedroom door open. You hear shuffling footsteps behind you and see a very sleepy Zayne trudging towards you while wrapped in a blanket.

You step away from the stove and catch him before his hip can hit the kitchen island. While you cradled his tall figure, he rested his head on yours. You seemed stunned, but you greeted him with a rub on his lower back. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep? Is the pain bad?”

Your questions were left unanswered, instead met with a lazy moan from Zayne. His arms wrap around you with the blanket surrounding your body like a cocoon. “The bedroom is too dark… I want to see you..” He replied, his tone with a tinge of slurring and vocal fry.

As he spoke, his warm breath blew strands of hair on your scalp. You continue rubbing his back, and his heartbeat thumps against your ear. “You goof.. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zayne is cute when he’s needy. The warmth of your body starts to resonate with his. “It’s lonely in my room. I want to sleep on the couch with you and cuddle. You’re so warm. Like a baby seal.”

You can’t help but giggle. Zayne wouldn’t usually express such gushy words, but even under the effects of anesthesia, you could tell he was still himself. You let out a heavy sigh and pushed his black bangs to the side. His cheeks were flushed; the heat was practically radiating off his face. “You should go lie down, Zayne. Your food is almost ready.”

You point to the couch, but Zayne didn't budge. He leans on you again and nuzzles your face. You pull his face down and kiss both of his eyelids. “Go on now, Zayne. Then I’ll feed you.”

Zayne pouts and then starts to drag his slippered feet towards his couch. He looks back at you. “Then we can cuddle?”

Before resuming your cooking, you reply with a smile. “Yes. Then we can cuddle.”

You hear Zayne grunt as he plops onto the couch. After giving the soup a final stir in the pot, you pour it into a bowl. The delicious aroma seemed to have caught his attention. You grab a glass and pour some strawberry banana smoothie from the fridge. Taking a seat next to Zayne, you set the soup and smoothie on the coffee table in front of him.

Zayne slowly sits up and opens a part of the blanket as if he were a bird lifting its right wing. You scoot over and feel his warmth envelop you once more. You start feeding him small portions of the soup, cooling down each spoonful with a blow. He shivered slightly after taking a sip from the smoothie.

Maybe you put a little too much ice..but he seemed to like it.

After Zayne finishes his meal, you assist him in the bathroom to rinse his mouth, change his gauze, and give him his medication. You guide him back to the couch and embrace Zayne. While he rested his head on your chest, he prods at his left cheek, seemingly favoring the numbness in his face. To soothe him, you whisper in his ear and run your fingers through his hair. “Shhh... It’s okay. Is your face feeling tingly?”

Zayne lets out a quiet, “mmhm”. You could have sworn his voice was wavering behind his words. “I appreciate you so much. You’re always taking care of me.”

You continue shushing him and plant a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m here for you, always. My big, cuddly snowman.”

You heard him reply “I love you.” in a muffled voice.

He’s so adorable. Zayne's behavior was slightly different when he was under anesthesia. Despite his ramblings, you couldn’t bring yourself to make fun of him. He could be silly around you, no matter how serious he claimed to be. You cherish the moments when you and Zayne would reminisce about your childhood and engage in playful activities together, even as adults. It didn’t matter whether it was just spending time at home or doing something extravagant; for you, it is time well spent with him.

You whisper back. “I love you too...” Before long, both of you were napping on the couch together. The afternoon sun streamed in through the cracks of the blinds, filling the room with a soft light. It was quiet and still in Zayne’s house, the only noticeable sound being the synchronized breathing of the two of you. The voice in your head whispered.

"I’ll be here to take care of you. Just like you always take care of me."

#love and deepspace #lads #mc love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fic

359 notes · View notes

hope-to-hell · 11 days ago

Text

not covered by your deductible. Agent Stone x Ivo Robotnik. Smut, pwp, teeth, tooth extraction, spit, fluids, blood, blood and gore, oral, anal, no lube, gags, extremely dubious dental procedures. Part of the serial killer Stone 'verse. It should go without saying, but please don't fuck your partner's face after dental surgery. And don't stick your fingers in there.

--------

So the thing about taking up an extracurricular activity like murder is: you want to get off the radar, like, completely. It’s not easy to turn to a life of crime if you’ve got something like a tracking device in your molar, which is exactly Stone’s problem. It’s a relic of the good old days when he was still a loyal government servant (or at least as loyal as anyone can be when their heart’s somewhere else entirely; perhaps a more accurate sentiment would be that he was loyal to his paycheck); these days the big bosses claim it’s been deactivated but you know how much you can trust Uncle Sam. Here’s a hint: the number is less than zero percent. So as much as he’s attached to that bottom left molar, it’s gonna have to go.

Doctor, can I talk to you for a minute? I have a little problem. Except, it’s not a little problem, exactly.

Robotnik looks up from a tangle of copper wire. What, did you drive your bike into the river? Eat the still-beating heart of the Pope? Jaywalk?

Nothing as exciting as that.

And so it begins.

Robotnik knows a thing or two about a thing or two, but dentistry is not on the list. Hell— he’s still hitting the books with regards to general human anatomy, having found himself with a sudden need to know. Discovering your partner has a cenobite-level taste for the pleasures of the flesh will tend to do that to a body.

Stone beams at the comparison. You flatter me.

So what is it you want, exactly? What Stone wants is for his dear Doctor to reach in there and yank that tracker right out of his head. Robotnik listens, his mustache bristling. When he speaks it’s with the long-suffering air of someone who doesn’t get paid nearly enough for this. I don’t get paid enough for this. See? So you’re telling me you’ve been out there committing murder and you’ve got a fucking GPS tracker on you? Stone doesn’t apologize, doesn’t cringe or grovel; he stands straight with hands clasped behind, watching. Well?

In my defense, Sir, I’ve cobbled together a rudimentary scrambler. And my alibi is airtight.

That’s what all the little homicidal maniacs say right before they get caught. Robotnik scrubs a hand over his face, sighing. Very well. Minion, go fetch me some tools.

How many times has Stone pleasured himself to the thought of the Doctor’s hand in his mouth? Usually he pictures that hand encased in a control glove, adding a layer of remoteness, of impersonal rough cruelty. He probably thinks about it more than he should. He’s certainly let Robotnik catch him staring at those elegant hands more than once, but if the man’s ever noticed anything more than simple observation, he’s yet to remark upon it.

(Stone doesn’t bother to change out of his leathers; when he shuts the door and leans back against it with a sigh, he’s still fully dressed sans helmet. Doctor, he breathes. There’s no answer, of course. So he supplies the Doctor’s dialogue himself, picturing those hazel eyes narrowing in anger.

Wretched limpet. What were you thinking? Oh. Right. You weren’t. Really, the actual words don’t matter nearly as much as the intonation, the drawn-down brows, the snarl.

Suck. Stone shoves the first two fingers of his right hand into his own mouth, pressing down on his tongue, drooling carelessly over the leather. What do you have to say for yourself? He adds a third finger, crowding in, forcing his jaw down. What’s the matter? Tongue tied? No matter how many times he replays the fantasy, it always seems to end with him laving at his own fingers, desperately wanton. But today— today— he has something much more interesting than mere fantasy in store.)

When Stone returns, Robotnik is sprawled on the sofa with virtual displays all around him, frowning as he manipulates a model of a lower jaw. His long clever fingers reach in, tweaking the image, pinching and tugging to pull a molar out, its deep roots dangling. It’s a considerable amount of detail for a simulation, especially since it’s been a mere matter of hours since Stone went out on his little errand. Then again, the Doctor does tend to lock in hard, worrying at problems like a dog with a bone, to use the classic cliche.

Stone watches from the threshold, bag in hand. Doctor? I have the tools you asked for. He’s back to pleasant neutrality, displaying that placid smile that makes Robotnik want to chuck something at his head.

Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn’t have returned. Robotnik stands, laying his coat aside and rolling his sleeves to the elbow. Come on, then.

Where do you want me?

On the chair. Robotnik gestures toward the leather recliner. Stone settles in, laying back; he wriggles a bit to get comfortable. You want to be tied up, or can you keep still for me?

I’ll be still. So here Stone is in the recliner, head back, as Robotnik approaches with a mouth gag. It’s a cruel looking thing, all gleaming metal, with curving prongs to hold Stone’s mouth wide open. There’s no pain— yet— but once it’s in place he’s unable to speak, so he can only lie there with drool slowly pooling at the top of his throat, Adam’s apple jumping as he attempts a messy openmouthed swallow.

You know, I think we ought to keep this thing. You look damn good like this. So… accessible. Robotnik’s eyeing him with that look, the one that says he’s cooking up something diabolical. And Stone, for his part, is immediately and totally on board for whatever it is. He reaches to stroke the Doctor’s thigh with his thumb, up the inseam toward his prize. Ah, ah, ah. You want it? You better behave. Only good boys get their reward.

Gragh. Stone grumbles wetly, narrowing his eyes; it’s as clear an oh, come ON as he can manage. The Doctor summons one of the badniks to shine a light into Stone’s gaping mouth. He stands by the chair a moment, thinking, before giving a single decisive nod. He climbs up to straddle Stone, one hand planted on the headrest and the other gripping Stone’s chin. He turns Stone’s head this way and that, humming thoughtfully.

Emmylou? Get that light way down in there. The badnik beeps enthusiastically, adjusting its position. Good girl. Daphne? My tools. Another badnik floats over, grippers holding a metal tray. It’s loaded with all manner of tools still in their sterile packaging. Robotnik studies the instruments as though he hasn’t already decided which to use.The hawk’s bill pliers are nice; I do enjoy a good ultra-specialized tool. But I’m more in the mood for extraction forceps for that real hands-on feel. He taps Stone on the chin. Now, this is really going to hurt.

No shit, Stone seems to say, his cock twitching as he watches the Doctor pull on a pair of black nitrile gloves, followed by the rustle of packages being opened. Stone is all anticipation, fingers twitching against the armrests; a thin string of saliva runs from the corner of his mouth down into his beard. He’s half-hard already.

Robotnik’s lip curls. I’d hate to see you at the dentist on a normal day. He raises the forceps, holding them directly in Stone’s eyeline, trailing them over those taut lips, letting them clink against the hard curve of the gag. For just a moment, he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of Stone’s ear. I don’t know why you trust me with this, beyond having no other choice. But you do trust me. And I’m going to make it good for you. He catches Stone’s ear in his teeth, denting the cartilage, relishing the man’s full-body shiver.

Now, it’s one thing to study tooth extraction on a model; it’s possible to calculate the amount of force needed, allowing for variations caused by root structure and so on. But, as with most things, knowing and doing are two entirely different beasts. Robotnik experiments with his grip, pinching the inside of Stone’s cheek in the process; his gaze darkens as he looks down at Stone, at his wide eyes and shallow breathing. Were anyone else watching, they might mistake this for nervousness or even fear, especially with the startled yelp that bubbles up from Stone’s throat.

Robotnik, however, knows better; he knows that Stone will be tonguing the spot for days, relishing its throbbing ache. He pats Stone's cheek and smiles indulgently. That’s my good little bitch. He shifts, ass brushing against Stone’s fly. Try to hold still now. One, two—

And he pulls.

It’s not a matter of simply grabbing and yanking; he rocks the tooth side to side, loosening it in its socket. Stone moans like he’s either dying or coming on the spot; the way he twitches hot and insistent against the Doctor’s ass suggests the latter. That’s it. Good. Wallow in it. The Doctor pauses, knuckles brushing over Stone’s open mouth. First part’s over, now here comes the big one. Robotnik adjusts his grip on the forceps, brows furrowed. Can Stone feel the faint tremble of his hand, through forceps and tooth, magnified by his jawbone?

Robotnik tenses his arm, then draws his hand up and out in one fierce motion, rocking back on his heels; along with the tooth, he pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside Stone, somewhere lightless and sticky and needful. He holds up the forceps, molar gripped tight, its long roots dangling. He lowers his hand enough to brush it over Stone’s nose and cheeks, leaving thin red trails. Say goodbye to your little buddy. Ivo drops the tooth and forceps onto Daphne’s tray and moves to climb down.

But Stone’s hand comes up lightning-quick, gripping Ivo’s wrist. What, you’re not ready to stop yet? Should I keep pulling? That gets him a head shake. No? If you want something, you’d better use your words. Oh, if looks could kill. Stone’s practically frothing at the mouth, flecks of red scattered across his stretched lips. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Well, if you’re not going to say it— Whatever he was going to say next is cut off when Stone grips Ivo’s cock hard, digging in with his fingers and squeezing until Ivo whines.

Stone might be beneath him— might be pried open with his face a filthy slick mess, flat on his back with eyes gone so dark they seem to absorb all light— but he’s nonetheless calling the shots here and he’s saying it clear as day: if you don't give me more right now, I will rip off your dick and eat it.

Noted. Robotnik has blood on his gloves; when he condescendingly pats Stone’s cheek, it smears rust over his skin, catching at the mess already drying there. Here, you seem stressed. You need some medicine. Doctor’s orders. Stone rolls his eyes, but it’s half-assed at best; the way his pants are tenting, he can’t put up any kind of a front. Yeah, you know what’s coming. Ivo opens his trousers, pushing them down just far enough to get his cock out. He drags the head over Stone’s lips, tantalizingly close. Want it? He splays a hand across the back of Stone’s head, lifting up, helping get him into position.

There’s no resistance when Ivo slides his cock in, but there’s also no suction— the one drawback of this game. But Stone bucks up beneath him like he’s been shot, fiery and desperate. Blood and drool mingle together, trailing down his chin, gathering in the thick red curls at the base of Ivo’s cock. Does it hurt? Stone hums in assent. Good. I know how much you love that. If those pretty teeth of yours weren’t such a limited resource, I bet you’d like to do this every day. With every thrust, Ivo aims a bit off center, seeking out that gory hole at the back of Stone’s jaw, raw and red and throbbing; the slide of teeth along his shaft is not painful, exactly, but their unforgiving hardness makes for a delicious contrast with the soft slickness of Stone’s gaping mouth.

We can keep the gag, you know. Love to see you helpless. Just a— a receptacle. For me. He holds himself close, watching Stone’s eyes water and then grow wide, pulling back to allow a single wet breath before plunging in again. Swallow me. That’s good. You— fucking hell, Agent, what are you doing?

Stone’s flipped the script, shoving Ivo off with an alligator roll to get the Doctor underneath him; the chair groans and rocks dangerously, but it holds. It shouldn’t be possible for anyone to look smug with their mouth ratcheted open like that, but Stone manages. You’re too fucking competent, Ivo grumbles. But there’s no bite to it; as much as Ivo might complain, he’s panting and wriggling, trying to get back that heat and friction.

Above him, Stone continues to drool, wet strings and droplets falling onto Ivo’s face; one lands in Ivo’s open mouth and he swallows around it with a thick moan. God. You’re filthy. If it were anyone else on this earth, Ivo would be spitting and hollering, ready to kill— but with Stone, Ivo bares his teeth in a feral grin that seems drawn straight up from his balls. Since you seem to be so excited about it, I suppose you can fuck me. He’s aiming for imperious, but gets stuck somewhere around hungry.

There’s Stone’s eye roll again; their hands tangle together in a mad rush to get Ivo’s ass exposed. There’s an ominous ripping sound, seams giving way as Stone rips Ivo’s trousers down. There’s a bit of a delay when Stone has to stop and remove one of Ivo’s boots; the trousers pool around the other and, well, that’s going to be good enough. Stupid fucking— okay. Next time we do naked surgery.

Nnngh. Stone is definitely on board for that— for the nakedness and the surgery both.

Stone can get at Ivo now, pressing into him with one rough finger; Ivo whines but instead of saying stop he pushes up into the dry burn. More, you ingrate. He grabs at Stone’s mouth, dragging him down til he can lean up and lick into him, tasting copper and salt; it’s not so much a kiss as it is a possession, a dirty wet I licked it so now it’s mine.

And Stone, in turn, is fumbling one-handed at his fly. He lines himself up, missing the first time, slipping and nearly bashing Ivo in the nose; he plants his foot desperately against the floor and hikes Ivo’s legs up, belt buckle smacking into his face as he moves Ivo’s foot and its dangling trousers back and away.

What’s the matter, lost your touch? Ivo taunts. If it’s too much for you, I can— fuck. Oh my fucking— Stone is neither slow nor gentle; he is strung tight, practically vibrating from head to toe. He sinks into Ivo in one long inexorable push, breathing harshly; Ivo’s fingers dig into Stone’s tongue and cheeks, twitching without conscious thought. He digs his index finger into the bloody socket in Stone’s jaw; with the thinness of his nitrile glove, he can press his fingernail in sharply, so he does.

And

Stone

howls.

Now, one’s reaction to pain is not always predictable. It depends on so many factors: stress levels, location (both of the injury and of the body as a whole), personal inclinations, and so on and so on. Stone has experienced many different kinds of pain throughout the course of his life; he’s been shot at, stabbed, thrown off of tall surfaces and into hard ones; he’s been through sickness and heartache and so many other little aches and pangs and minor inconveniences that it seems impossible for anything to surprise him.

But this—gagged by cold metal and the tight grip of Ivo’s hand, raw nerves aflame with neither heat nor cold but some entirely indescribable sensation— this is something else. It rips through his jaw and down his spine, curving his back, demanding that he pull Ivo impossibly further onto his cock, to ground himself, to tangle them together in an ouroboros of their own making.

Fuck, that smarts. Ivo’s twitching around Stone’s cock, forcing his breath into a slow and even rhythm.

Mmmh? Stone raises an eyebrow. This is a checkpoint, an opportunity to stop or change gears if need be. It wouldn’t be any fun if Ivo weren’t complicit in his own destruction. But Ivo seems almost insulted by the idea of stopping.

Absolutely not. Don’t you fucking dare. Well. He might be a bit past almost insulted. Stone gurgles in agreement, rolling his hips. He is neither slow nor gentle; he moves like a river during the spring floods, roiling and dirty, crashing into everything in his path. And that everything— his everything— is Ivo.

Ivo reaches down, trying to snake a hand in between them, desperate for more stimulation on his cock: already he feels as though he’s being turned inside out, as though the jerk and slide of Stone’s cock is splitting him open at the seams. The cold metal of his prince albert taps against his belly with each movement, punctuating what few thoughts are left to him. Ivo’s hand is filthy with sweat and slick; he doesn’t know whether to push up into his own grip or onto Stone.

In the end, the choice is made for him; Stone shifts his weight precariously onto one arm so he can grab Ivo’s hand and bring it up to his own mouth. Now his mouth is stuffed full of Ivo’s fingers, their tips hooking into his lips, his teeth, his cheeks, anything Ivo can get a grip on as he falls apart; his face is spattered with blood and spit and it is filthy— I’ll never be clean again— grunting and groaning as if he could possibly remove the traces of Stone that burrow beneath his skin, as if he would want to. He is already inextricably bound to Stone, feeling his heartbeat inside and out.

And when Ivo falls apart at last, all he can do is screw his eyes shut and drop his head back against the chair; he clings to Stone like a lifeline, like a handhold against the rising tide. He shudders and clenches, knife-sharp pleasure spiking through him. For a moment all sound is lost to him; there is only Stone’s face, haloed with light, sliding in and out of focus above him, in time to the pulse of Ivo’s cock as he cums over his own stomach.

For a moment they just lie there, breathing rough and wet until Stone slips free in a rush of sticky fluid and Ivo finds the strength to release the gag; he flops back against the chair with an undignified oof. Stone pushes himself up to standing, swaying a bit at first as his blood makes its way back uphill. Neither one says anything.

Stone works his jaw, feeling the ache of overstretched muscle; his cheek bulges as he tongues at the spot where his tooth used to be. Ow. He does it again, and then a third time, tasting the bright spark of pain it elicits. He rinses his mouth, spitting blood into the sink; he is relaxed, loose, free for the moment to simply exist inside his own body. Doctor?

Mmm?

You alright?

Psh. Ivo sprawls bonelessly on the chair, wiping the worst of the mess from himself with the ruins of his stained and wrinkled shirt; his trousers are still caught on his foot. He rarely lets anyone see him so disheveled, but here with Stone, sated, he doesn’t mind so much. Get me the ointment from the cupboard, unless you want to carry me to work tomorrow. Some of us have appearances to keep up. Stone hums pleasantly; on his way past the chair he drops the mouth gag into Ivo’s hands with a wink. And bring me the tracker, minion. Let’s see if we can get anything interesting out of it before we smash it with a hammer.

Of course, Doctor. I am at your service.

#stobotnik #agent stone #ivo robotnik #dr robotnik #serial killer stone

32 notes · View notes

penvisions · 8 months ago

Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 23}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You begin to heal in the safety of the Crest, as you travel alongside Din once again.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, inner musings of reader, mentions of past heartbreak and pain, deadly poison, talks of injuring / killing people, ritualistic and religious activities, talk of past manipulation and administration of sedative drugs, reader has a lot of quiet moments in this, sexual content, kissing, descriptions of the male body, din djarin y'all. those are the ones i can think of, i'm so sleepy

A/N: been recovering from a tooth extraction and needed a little comfort / happiness. so please enjoy this baby chapter that doubles as an interlude before the series picks back up. love y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

The hum of your lightsaber is a quiet one as you practice smooth movements to illuminate the grove of tall trees you’re in the midst of, slicing through the open air of the field to allow you to see in every direction. The sun had set hours ago, the fire crackling still as Din and ad’ika are settled on the other side of the clearing. Both nodded off, as they sit around it with remnants of a giant bird that had been hunted and roasted over it for dinner. Eyes follow the white of your blade, the energy flowing strongly so much so that it lifts the fine hairs on the back of your neck and prickles your skin.

But there’s no one around, even if you think of the shuffling sound that alerted your senses from your own idle relaxation.

“We’re safe, mesh’la.” The deep rumble of Din’s voice calls, still quiet though enough volume to trickle into your ears even as you strain to hear anything out of the ordinary. “I’m not picking up any heat signatures.”

“I could’ve sworn…” With the push of a button, the saber retracts, and you turn around to face the man where he’s sitting and leaning up against a fallen trunk. Endor was alight with so much energy, left over from many battles of wartime that ravaged the world at one point in time. It had been a simple ask, from your lips to Din’s hears. The last sight of battle against the Empire. The last place you one of your own had been rumored to be. Though that was years ago, the energy still lingered. Strong and sparkling all around. It was hard to focus on what was real and what was whispers from the past.

Everything was all so much, you took a deep breath as you engaged your saber again. The white of it glows brightly even as you made your way a few steps into the tree line and ensured that your trio was truly safe. You trusted Din, you had faith in him to keep you safe but there was an underlying feeling of unease on this planet. If for no reason other than your own connection to the force and how it practically bathes everything in sheen here. The planet was one in a long list of those to visit, to search.

“The glow seems…brighter.” Din’s voice was a low velvet caress as you as you fit yourself beside him, close enough to feel the coolness of the beskar that protects his body. But he’s removed the left pauldron, that same arm wrapping around your shoulders and gently pulls you to rest your head against the thick flight suit he dons underneath. His questions are still more statements made that imply his curiosity, though he does outright ask you things in some instances.

But it’s never serious, not since that day he stood beside you as you buried your mother. You appreciate his caution, almost, but you feel…okay. For the most part, more connected with yourself. Despite taking her life, you don’t feel the pull of dark tendrils around your limbs and mind in the quiet darkness of the light or the moments when your brain recalls the ordeal that led to it.

“It’s the energy, it’s so concentrated here.”

“Is…there a reason for that? Beyond the battle taking place here.”

“It’s because he died here. Anakin.” You say his actual name, not the one you know he has taken on in his journey into the dark side. “He brought balance to the force after all the wreckage he caused, all the destruction he caused. It’s not…it’s not common knowledge but he a good man once. Tried to do good, but the Jedi, the teachings and disciplines….they were constricting. Open to interpretation that went against human nature.”

“You trained under him.” He knows that, from the confession you made the first time you headed toward Nevarro with him, at the request of a pleading Greef Karga.

“Yes, him and his master wanted me to train to take over eventually. But not when he was a Jedi, I had only glimpsed him over the couple years I was at the temple. There was a war going on, so many people in and out of those doors. So many Jedi all fighting and more training, more providing guidance and protection. A lost of masters and skilled individuals were lost. But only one Sith can be in power at a time, at full power. To kill your master gains you the title. Anakin…he was struggling even with the best medical aid. If he wasn’t in a bacta tank, he was…hooked up to a respirator and all kinds of support. I never asked what happened to him, but I always wondered if it happened during the attack on the temple. The one that he led.”

“But you didn’t kill him.” Din moves slightly, leaning back into the trunk of the tree he was sitting against more firmly before he helps to situate your legs across his lap. Fingers hidden in gloves trace down the length of your legs, swirling over your knees and down to where you ankles flashed as the fabric bunched up around the tops of your boots. He pulled everything back to cover you, hand tracing back up hooking around your left thigh to hold you to him. Safe, content, even as the conversation gains weight.

“No, when I found out their plans to begin the destruction of Mandalore, I intercepted the first few deployments. The first they chocked up to a mistake on the droids. The second, a judgement in error.”

A breeze picks up and makes its way through the small clearing, Din notices the way you tense and pulls you closer into his body. The beskar captures your heat from leaning against it and it warms you to feel the give of his sides in between the plates.

“Akiz, he fought alongside me. Once he was well enough, we tried our best to do what we could. But the last ship we took down, it was…too much for us to handle alone. Storm troopers managed to get a distress signal out and Moff Gideon came after us. He was lost in the crash, too injured to move without causing more damage. He…he gave me his helmet and told me to run. I barely made it out myself. The gunfire alone, the smoke, the fire, all of it was too much. But it gave some people time to get out, to relocate.”

“Is that when you fled to Tatooine?” The deep tone of his voice washed over you, the attentiveness he exhibited and the questions he had begun to seek answers to soothing your heart, your mind. He was engaging in a way he hadn’t been previously, had said he was unaccustomed to. It made you giddy, that he was willing to ask and converse with you more freely, little jokes sneaking in here and there during the lighter moments. Care and concern cloaking the darker moments.

“Figured the desert was the easiest place to get lost in. They wouldn’t send droves of people to search the sands for one person. Resources were abundant, but not enough for that. I was considered a ‘calculated loss’ at that point. The damage I did outweighing the worth I was to them.”

“I was there a few years before the Empire fell. Once I got the news, I fled home and well, you know how that turned out…”

“But you did good, took out what you could. Helped my people to get to safety, to flee.”

“I could’ve done more, I should’ve done more.” You can’t help the heat that tinges your words, emotions strong on the matter, on the memories. There was so much, so many small things that couldn’t been done or done differently. A dangerous free fall that would once awaken the dark tendrils that lay dormant in the corners of your mind. But since Maldovan, you hadn’t felt the pull of them, the motion of them slithering about and biding their time. They were gone, or at least, they didn’t seem to bother you as much.

“You did what you could, that is enough.” He assures you, his voice holding so much emotion even through the modulator. Soothing you and making sure you understand that what you did do was enough, that it was more than enough. Forsaking what could’ve been done was a dirty business and he knew it all too well.

“You and your space sword.” He jostles you a bit, hand running up and down your arm to keep you warm as another breeze flits by. He thinks he’s funny, you know this because the same rumbling chuckle sounds in his chest as when he had first used the term. There’s no use fighting the smile that pulls at your lips, affection blooming in your chest.

“Wish I had one of those pulse rifles, like you.” You can’t help the slight whine that coats your voice, it was always a lavish thought, to purchase one of your own. “Could cause some good damage with one of those.”

“I’m sure you could, mesh’la.” His laughter echoes around the small clearing and your heart skips a beat, he’s so carefree right now. So at ease and it makes you wish for more moments exactly like it.

“Your laughter makes me happy.” Voice dipping, you reach up to plant both of your hands atop his shoulders and shift to straddle his lap. There’s a twitch against the inside of your thighs that sparks flames across your skin despite the chill of the night air. “It’s such a good sound, ikaad.”

Baby.

“Is that a new nick name?” His big hands wrap around your hips, keeping you steady in his lap, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. He presses his forehead to yours, the coolness of the helmet causing a shudder to race down your spine. He pulls you flush against him, his rough action hitches your breath and it fogs up the front of the helmet.

“Do you like it?” You ask, hesitancy underlying your words even as you press your hands to the sides of his helmet and begin to lift it. Eyes closed, you can hear the compression hiss as you pull it away from him. His hands reach up, helping to guide yours to set it down beside you both. There’s a rustle of fabric, the hiss of leather and then you feel his bare fingers cradle one side of your face while the other spreads across your lower back.

He chuckles once again at the hitch of your breath, the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth and tighten your eyes against the sensation of his skin against yours. His nose brushes yours, his lips a hairsbreadth away, the feel of them so close making you dizzy.

“Moan it into my mouth and we’ll find out.”

And then his lips are on yours.

You take a seat at the makeshift table, fingers trailing over the cabinets and side paneling that have been left open to reveal the caf maker on your way over to it. There's steam rising from the back of it, from the mechanics inside that heat up the water and transform the condensed grounds into caf. Scenting the air and making your heart calm. you hadn't loaded it up nor pressed the button to it up, but Din had.

The hush of water sounding from the fresher tells you where the man in question had disappeared to. The warmth of his body and the comfort of it pressed to had disappeared from the bed and woken you up from your deep slumber.

The helmet he dons is sitting there in the middle of the table, the beskar glowing in the low light it catches. You take a sip of your steaming drink, just a little sip before you reach for it and cradle it in your hands.

The artistry of it is immaculate. Beautiful. You see him in the visor even if he's not behind it. Feel the energy of him in it even if it's not secure over his head. It's a part of him, it's the first thing you had seen of him. It was him, in a way.

Peering inside as you tip it slightly, the panels lining the inside of it glow as the power coursing through them picks up on the energy tingling your entire body. Gentle fingers trace them, feeling the delicate and careful positioning. You didn't dare lift one up to explore underneath, not wanting to activate anything or disrupt anything on accident.

The sound of the shower shutting off barely registers as you continue to look over the precious thing in your hands. You don't know how long you do nor do you register the figure that steps out of the fresher. Eyes focused and mind at peace as your thoughts wander over the skills that went into the creation and forming of the helmet, of the man who wears it.

You wonder if...the Creed is something you would be willing to take, if given the chance.

If it had been offered to you before your master's had found you in the marketplace that fateful day of your childhood. If your mother would have been just as willing to send you away if it meant you'd give up your purchase on what little your family name had and let you go with those who sought you out. She had been hesitant with the Jedi, mulling it over for weeks before she had made the decision to let you go in search of something greater than what she could offer you on K'ath. A blacksmith's daughter, an armorer in training from her own shaping. But that didn't deter you from holding onto your adoration for the skills, the handiwork and devotion it took. You had cultivated it even amidst the jedi, their lack of need for armor or weapons at odds with the interest you held.

You had been so young, it had been a rare instance of intense interest. The man who had seen the power of the Force flowing strongly through you, the easy direction of such casual in the way you had been idly playing with shells laid out before you and the tools of your trade. And then the journey to where you are now had begun. Taken away on a long travel, the first time you had ever been in hyperspace had been something mesmerizing. You hadn’t asked many questions on the way to Coruscant, you had merely followed closely behind the Jedi Master that had seen the potential in your younger self. Even younger than those around you once you were placed amidst a group of six or seven other children. An age gap of four to five years separating you. You had only been six at the time, far too young for the world you had been taken to be a part of.

But despite that, you can recall so clearly the trainings and the meetings, endless conversations about your life and past. The attachments you may have had beyond your mother and if you had any other family they might be able to trace to see how the concentration of your blood was so strongly suited for the life that had become your own.

It had been dizzying, going from a humble life as a blacksmith’s daughter on the mostly oceanic world of K’ath.

But the Mandalorian's....they prided themselves in the armor they dressed in, created rituals around it. The metal it's comprised of was revered, respected, a culmination of everything you felt with the artistry and creation of even the most basic of metal and armor. The man that Din was, the values he held and tried his best to let guide his life...even if the bounty hunting was a little more black and white, a simple way to provide means for his remaining people, his covert...they were admirable. He was admirable. A good man. At the very core of who he was.

The Creed he had sworn...it was something you had been thinking over a lot. Asking him gentle questions here and there as you mulled over specifics and recalled memories of doing the same with Akiz. The man whose last name you had adapted while on the run with him. He hadn't offered you to take his religion, but he had taught it to you, allowed you any knowledge you had sought after to the best of his ability. But there was a clear distinction between the faction he and Din practiced and that prominent on Mandalore. That had been prominent on Mandalore. Even so...the itch was there, to explore it and consider it as an option to truly become more like the person you thought yourself to be.

There was no reason for you to seek a new identity, not now with the royalty of what was almost your life vouching for you with the New Republic and clearing whatever record you had accumulated. Din too, they had vouched for, in regards to the connection with the job you had both worked for his old crew that seemed to be ages ago now...

He's been going without it more, the helmet. When ad'ika is asleep or occupied in the upstairs cabin, his penchant for meditation picked up from you despite his smaller attention span. You had conveyed to him the feeling of the Force and calmly let it flow through your mind, pushing the feeling into his own carefully and showing him some of the faces you recall. Hoping he could practice reaching out, because you had questions too. There didn't seem to be...anyone and it was a rather lonely realization. You had knowledge, but very little from the time you had trained as a girl to the time you had spent with Moff Gideon in his base, with those who were building you up to learn the darker path...

"You look so beautiful, ner kar'ta." Din's deep, unmodulated voice breaks your silent reverie. You don't look up from the helmet in your hands, the scented steam from his wash wafting into the open space of the hold now that he's leaned up against the doorway. Heat floods your face, his unabashed compliment spurring butterflies in your stomach and tingles in your chest.

You ache for him, you had done it back on Maldovan and every day since. Even as he lays beside you each night and cares for you and adi'ka in the ways he knows how. A quiet job he's determined to keep up even in the hard moments, the low moments, the ones where your aversion to touch and conversation flares and your memory fizzles. Actual jobs were slow right now, more focused on beginning the search for other Jedi, others who had been able to devote their life to the ways you had only been beginning to.

You still hadn't looked upon his face, doubt still lingering despite everything you've been through together in nearly a year.

It is a big step, it is a big decision. Monumental, in more ways than one. Words that meant so much shared between you both, for each other. The vows he had written down in your notebook for you to look over, what he recalled from listening to his fellow people in the covert. Spoken word the only way they persevered as they did. He had wanted to share them with you, have you look over them and contemplate them. He wasn’t asking, he wasn’t pushing, it was simply a way for him to express himself and let you come to him slowly in your own time.

But you look up now and you see the shock wash over his features as your eyes take him in.

Tension fills the hold, thickening the air and the tingling in your chest grows as you greedily take in his features.

His skin is bronze all over, you've seen it before. Flashes of it about the cuffs and neckline of his suit, full swaths of it as he lay in bed beside you in his underclothes or sleepwear he’s begun to walk around in on a regular basis. Seen all of it bared, in that one instance he had indulged you in booking a stay instead of returning to the ship… Felt it before with your wandering hands, against your own skin. Both in innocent settings and some that spark thick, syrupy desire low in your middle…

Stray droplets from his wash catch the dull light as he's in nothing but a pair of flight pants, slung low on his narrow hips. Strong arms that are crossed over his chest make your stomach flip. His neck is thick, shoulders broad, skin littered with silvery scars that tell of his past. A strong jaw you only glimpsed at before is now traced by your eyes adorned with dark scruff, his plush lips parted slightly as he almost freezes in his spot. You had felt those lips on your own, the way they moved desperately against you. Conveying so much in a moment when nothing felt like it would be right ever again.

"You're beautiful too." The words are barely a whisper, but they spur him into movement. He's pushing off from the door frame and crossing the space in three long strides. His hands reach and you don't flinch as they wrap around your ribs and help to pull you up from your seat. He simply holds you as you gaze up at him, eyes taking him in and his own roving over your steadily growing smile.

He’s so beautiful, the man standing before you. The man who, when you first met, never anticipating meaning anything to you. But he’s all you want, all you need, he’s…he’s home for you. The reason behind no place ever feeling quite right, the hiding spots you created for yourself just shy of being accommodating. Off kilter in the way that the space inside his ship isn’t. He’s given you so much with his simple disregard for a bounty out on you so long ago, his own actions allowing this feeling to flourish into what it is now. He’s safety, he’s protection, he’s…he’s your heart.

“Ner kar’ta, you’re so beautiful.” You feel the rough palms of his hands rove up to cup your face, his wide eyes so brown and sparkling in a way that you were sure was reserved just for you. Thoughtful in a way most people wouldn’t expect of the man, the Mandalorian – a feared and renowned bounty hunter.

But right now he wasn’t that man, right now he was Din Djarin. The one who had helped you to reclaim your life back, to give you options when there didn’t seem to be anymore to consider. He was the one who had helped you to reclaim so much that you had lost, even things you hadn’t realized.

“You’re too kind, mesh’la,” His head ducks a bit, gaze focused on the pulse he could surely see jumping in the column of your neck. Thick curls tumble, the water still soaked into the tresses smelling so sweet and exactly like you. You can’t help the urge to reach up and run your fingers through them, delighting in the flutter of his long lashes as his eyes close. A deep hum sounds from within his chest, almost vibrating through you with now you’re held so close to him.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” And oh it’s so beautiful the way you see the wrinkles around his eyes deepen as his face breaks into an almost shy smile. Eyes wide and earnest as they flutter open in response to your whispered sentiment. The hitch of his breath visible as his chest rises with it and the way his lips nearly tremble as he dips down to capture your own. The words repeated and breathed into you as his strong nose brushes against yours and his hands curling around face. “Gar're ner yaim.”

I love you. You’re my home.

He kisses you, again and again. His lips a soft pressure that makes your heartbeat fast in your chest and you can’t help but tangle your fingers in his damp hair, returning them with as much fever. His own hands, his warm palms trail over the column of your neck to your shoulders. Stirring tingles to dance across the bare skin exposed in your sleepwear of a tank top and shorts.

“Bal gar cuyir pal'vut.” He pulls back just enough to trail his soft lips along your jaw breathing words into the skin there. You can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to nip and lave his tongue down your neck, seeking and praising you in the most intimate way. Your muscles shake as you resist the urge to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist, resist the urge to lean in and use your own teeth along the golden planes of his chest. As if reading your thoughts, his arms loop down below your arms, your waist and grab at the back of your thighs. Large hands so secure against the give of them he hauls you up into his hold and begins to walk you towards the open door.

Lips meet lips in deepening kisses, almost desperate and urgent as heat begins to swirl in your belly and arousal tingles brightly across every inch of skin that touches his. Small groans and panting breath bubbling up and are swallowed as his words echo in your head.

And you are mine.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal

@moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @feral-ferrule

@bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77

@picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

@vivian-pascal @smiithys @thefrogdalorian

lovely graphics provided by @/saradika-graphics and @/cafekitsune

#dev writes #fic: of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfic #din djarin series #star wars #star wars fanfiction #jedi culture #mandalorain culture #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom

95 notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 2 years ago

Text

Greatest Fan of your Life

➪the one where you get your wisdom teeth removed and bradley takes care of you.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of a bad past dental experience, mentions of teeth being removed...because, you know, mentions of blood, anesthesia, use of an iv, mentions of not eating properly, reader is going through it, bradley being the best boyfriend ever, literally wrote this because i just had three of my wisdom teeth removed and needed some comfort

Word Count: 5.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced up at the sign of the best dental office in San Diego. As you read over the sign a couple of times, Bradley reached over from his place behind the wheel and grabbed your hand. “How are you feeling?”

Tearing your eyes off the logo that resembled a tooth, you give him a weary smile. “I’m nervous,” you state the obvious in a quiet voice.

Bradley raised your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it before rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re going to be fine, pretty girl,” he said in hopes to provide you with some much needed comfort. “I’m going to be waiting right here when it’s over, and then we’ll go home and I’ll cater to your every need.”

You give him another smile and lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I like the sound of that,” you murmur and he smiles back before placing another quick kiss to your mouth.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” He asks when he saw you reach for the handle.

“Please,”

And with that one word Bradley was hopping out of the Bronco and grabbing your hand as you both walked up to the door. He could feel just how tense you were and he wished there was something he could do to ease your nerves, even a little bit. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to help you, as having anything done to your mouth, from a filling to a simple clean, made you beyond nervous.

You had never liked the dentist, ever since you were a kid and they had to hold you down while extracting a tooth that was no good. They hadn’t given you enough freezing for it to numb properly, so you felt pretty much everything. Safe to say you never went back to that dentist office.

Maybe that was why you had waited so long to make an appointment to have your wisdom teeth removed. You were told back when you were twenty one that you should get them extracted as soon as possible, but that was ten years ago, and you still hadn’t booked the appointment.

You were fine, for the most part, up until a few weeks ago. You were barely able to chew tough foods because your gums ached beyond words, and you had resorted to drinking shakes to get you through the day. That was fine, until Bradley noticed you had lost a concerning amount of weight due to the lack of actual food you were getting into your body.

He went ahead and booked the appointment for you pretty much instantly after that. He had to sweet talk the lady on the other line, who was insisting that it should be you who was making the appointment, but she eventually gave in when he told her about your fear of the dentist.

Bradley still wasn’t sure how he had gotten away with that, but he was grateful nonetheless, even if you didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day after he informed you of your upcoming extractions.

While you were upset and scared, you were also glad you would be able to go back to eating solid foods in about a week after today.

That positive still didn’t help tune out all the negatives you were feeling.

As you walked up to the front desk of the office, you didn’t loosen your hold on Bradley’s hand once, not even when the lady behind the desk handed you a clipboard with papers you needed to sign since this was your first time in this office.

You both sat in the waiting room, and you were shaking so badly you were afraid your writing was so messy that you’d have to ask for a new page. With a nervous glance up at your boyfriend, he just pressed a kiss to the side of your head and took the clipboard from you, filling out your information for you. Most he knew off by heart, thankfully, and he handed it back to you so you could scribble down your signature at the bottom of the page.

It was only a few minutes after he handed the board back to the lady when your name was called. Bradley could tell that you were beginning to freak out once again, so he took your hand and walked with you over to where the procedure will be done.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you, his hands tilting your head up so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “It’ll take an hour at the most, and then we’ll be back home.”

You just nodded and allowed him to kiss your forehead. “I love you,”

“I love you, too,” and he watched as you were guided into the room by the assistant.

You hesitantly sat down on the chair and kept your eyes on the blank wall in front of you. Off to your left were various paintings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at them, despite them probably being there to calm down the patients. You were so nervous, you couldn’t even voice your opinions on the decor of the waiting room. This was by far the most elegant dentist office you had ever seen in your life.

The assistant took a seat next to you and began wiping down your forearm, and you began mentally preparing yourself for the eventual puncture of the IV. “How are we doing?” She asked softly. “Are you nervous?”

You give her a tight smile as she tosses the wipe into the trash can. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only a little bit,” she teased as the Doctor came in. “Your boyfriend mentioned that you have had some pretty tough times in the past regarding previous procedures. I want you to know that you have nothing to be afraid of. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod at her as the Doctor gently picked up the IV. “Hi, Y/n,” he smiled at you. “I’m Doctor Brown.”

“Hi,” you nearly whisper back.

He asked you the standard questions, like; are you taking any medication currently, are you a smoker, is there a chance you’re pregnant, when was the last time you had something to eat or drink. All that fun stuff you were barely able to answer.

“I’m going to insert the IV now, okay?” He asked and waited until you gave him verbal consent before gently piercing your skin with the needle. He looked at the fluid bag before sitting down on the other side of you and grabbing gloves. “I hear this is your first time with us, is that correct?”

You nod as he adjusts the chair so you are laying back. “It is,”

“And you have a reliable ride home?”

You nod again. “Yeah, my boyfriend,” you answer, wondering when exactly you were supposed to start feeling sleepy.

The assistant, whose name tag read Alia Clark, grabbed her own gloves as she asked, “What does your boyfriend do?”

“He’s in the navy,” you mumble with a small smile. “He’s an aviator.”

“Oh, wow,” she replied and smiled down at you before checking over your chart. “And what is his name?”

For some reason, that took you a bit longer to answer as you felt your eyes begin to feel heavy. “Bradley,” you were finally able to say. “His name is Bradley, but he also goes by his call sign, Rooster.”

“Rooster, huh?” Doctor Brown hums and you were only able to nod as you felt your eyes close.

“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you hear Alia say. “You will be back with Bradley, or Rooster, in no time.”

And that was all the assurance you needed before you let yourself fall asleep.

Bradley wishes he was able to stay in the room with you, but he knew he couldn’t, so he finally made his way back out to the Bronco once he saw the Doctor enter your room.

Once he was back behind the wheel, he sighed as he had an hour of time to kill.

He had taken the week off work, after informing Mav of your fear of the dentist. The older man seemed to have taken pity on you as he had no problem letting Bradley skip this week to look after you.

As he began to wait, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to you, knowing you wouldn’t see it or read it until you were back home. You told him beforehand to take your phone away from you until the effects of the IV wore off completely, nervous that you would embarrass yourself if you were to go on it in your drug induced haze.

After typing out a sappy little message, Bradley ended it with a simple red heart before sending it, hearing the buzz of your phone from where it was on the center console.

He debated on whether or not he wanted to stay in the parking lot the whole time, or run out to the store to get some things that would help make the next few days easier for you.

He reluctantly chose the second option, as he knew you wouldn’t want him to leave your side once you were back home.

Bradley drove to the nearest store and bought a few packs of pudding, apple sauce, ginger ale, yogurt and even some more of those shakes you had been living off of, something he was still mad about as he hated the way you turned to practically starving yourself to avoid this appointment, before stopping by the pharmacy to pick up more painkillers.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the smallest bit excited to be the one taking care of you. Usually it was the other way around, with you being the one to look after him every time he returned home from his deployments. Whether that be with making him his favorite foods, giving him some much needed massages or simply just laying with him in bed for a few hours, it all made the welcome home much nicer than it would have been if he was still living alone and single.

This time he got to be the one to look after you, and he couldn’t wait to cater to your every need. He couldn’t wait to spend the whole week with you, even though you would most likely be miserable and uncomfortable due to the pain in your mouth. Still, he would do his best to make things better for you.

Your surgery should be over soon, so with twenty minutes left on the timer he set for himself on his phone, he drove back to the dental office and was back to waiting for you.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go in and wait for you inside, or if they’ll call him to come walk you out, but he decided to go in a bit early, anyway, and wait for you in the waiting room.

Bradley remembered when he got his wisdom teeth removed, back when he was still a teen. He remembered just how uncomfortable he was during the recovery days, and how he didn’t really have anyone to look after him. He got his aunt to drive him there and home, and she stayed with him for a few hours after the surgery, but eventually had to return to her own home.

He had to stick to sucking on popsicles and protein shakes until he was feeling well enough to go back to eating normal food.

He was completely on his own back then, and he’d make sure that wasn’t the case with you.

A few minutes go by, and when he heard the assistant call his name, he paused the latest newscast that he was watching on his phone and pocketed it before standing up. “How is she?” He asked as Alia getsured for the lady behind the desk to ring up the receipt. “How’d it go?”

Alia smiled at his multiple questions as she watched him insert his credit card into the machine. “It went well,” she answered and gave him another smile when he slipped the card back into his wallet and took the receipt from the receptionist. “She’s just resting now, but is able to go home since most of the anesthesia has worn off.”

He nodded and followed her back to where you were. She stepped aside as he entered the room and found you still laying on the chair, your eyes barely open as you stared blankly at the TV that was hung from the ceiling. “Hi, pretty girl,”

At the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you look over and tear up. “I don’t look pretty right now,” you mumble and try to avoid moving the cotton pads that were stuck to either side of your mouth.

Bradley hushed you and quickly walked around the chair so he could press his lips to your forehead. Your mouth and cheeks were swollen, and he could see a bit of blood on your bottom lip, but other than that, he still thought you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. “You do,” he said and grabbed your hand when you reached it out to him, careful to not touch the bandage from where the IV was inserted. “Mouth full of gauze and all.”

“You’re Rooster, I’m assuming?” Doctor Brown asked as he held a few pages of paper in his hand.

“She told you my call sign, huh?” Bradley shook his head while you avoided eye contact with him and instead decided to stare at the wall.

“She was the perfect patient,”

Bradley looked over at you and gently rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. “I believe it,”

Doctor Brown went over what exactly he and Alia did to you, before handing him a small bag that held antibiotics inside. The whole time you remained silent as you tried not to cry in front of the Doctor and assistant, squeezing Bradley’s hand whenever you felt the pain beginning to form.

“She should be okay now,” the Doctor finished with a smile at the two of you. “There should be no more pain from having them in. If there is still a bit of discomfort after about two weeks, come back in and we’ll check up on the healing process.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley answered and gently pulled you up from the chair. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you mutter as he guides you back towards the exit, with him carrying most of your body weight. He led you back out to the Bronco and helped put your seatbelt on before he was getting in on the drivers side.

“I know this will be hard for you to do,” he began, checking you over once more before putting the car in reverse and beginning to back out of the parking space. He puts his right hand on the back of your headrest and gives you a teasing smile before continuing, “But I looked it up and Google says you shouldn’t talk too much. It might interrupt the healing process.”

Despite him really wanting to hear all the odd things you’d say in your daze, he didn’t want you paying the price later by having a sore throat.

You send him a dirty look and raise your brow, as if to say, really?

He just winks at you after taking off his aviators and reaching over to gently place them over your eyes, sacrificing his own in hopes you would appreciate the gesture since you had forgotten your own during your rush to leave this morning. It was nearing the afternoon, so the sun was shining down on the both of you, but he would deal with it to make you more comfortable.

He was right about you appreciating it, as you give him a closed mouth smile, your cheeks puffed out due to the gauze. “Tell you what,” he says as he pulls out onto the main road, his right hand instinctively reaching over to trace random shapes onto the skin of your thigh. He keeps his left one on the wheel as he glances over at you, seeing your eyes already on him from behind the glasses. “Once we get home and you rest for a few hours, maybe we can go out and get milkshakes if you’re feeling up to it. Might help with the soreness.”

You instantly perk up at that and nod, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your mouth. Bradley held back a laugh at your attempt to kiss the back of his hand, your lips clearly still numb as you couldn’t seem to get them to move properly.

He just gave you a grin when you looked over at him in defeat.

The swelling had gotten worse as the time went on, and your throat was dry beyond words. Bradley had guided you towards the couch as soon as you got home, flipping the TV onto one of your favorite shows and making sure you were comfortable before he was leaving to tidy up the small mess you had made in the bedroom a few hours earlier, when you couldn’t decide what to wear and had thrown multiple articles of clothing onto the floor.

Within minutes he was back at your side, your head resting on his lap as you stared at the screen of the TV. Bradley ran his fingers through your hair as you both watched the show, listening to your uneven breaths as you fought back grunts of pain.

He looked down and gently held your chin in between his fingers, squinting down at you as you opened your mouth. “I think it might be time to change the gauze, baby,” he murmurs and you wince in at the thought of seeing the bloody cotton leave your mouth.

Bradley gently sits you up before reaching over and grabbing the bag from the dentist and pulling out a fresh set of gauze.

After damping them with water, he sets them aside before mumbling a quiet, “Come here,” and he watches as you lean towards him and slowly open your mouth. Bradley caresses your jaw with one hand and uses the other to slowly pull out the bloodied gauze. He does it one by one, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry,” when he sees the tears form in your eyes. He places both pieces of gauze on the palm of his hand before handing you the clean ones.

He sits with you until you’ve successfully placed the new cotton into your mouth, and then stands up to throw away the blood filled ones.

Once Bradley returns back to the living room, you move over and give him space to sit down before laying your head in his lap again and trying to focus on the show instead of the throbbing in your mouth.

With your head still feeling fuzzy and the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers running through your hair again, you give yourself a bit of relief and fall asleep.

When you woke up alone a few hours later, you noticed that Bradley had left the TV on and had also put your phone on the coffee table beside you. You could hear him doing something in the kitchen as you reached for it, and knowing him, he was probably making something to eat as his stomach was like a bottomless pit.

You sat up with a groan, still a bit groggy from the anesthesia, and unlocked your phone. Instantly, you were met with a couple of texts from your friends and family, and you smiled as you read them.

Mom: I heard from Bradley that it went well and you’re resting now. Call me when you’re feeling up to it. Love you x

Nat: I told you that there was nothing to be scared of. Have fun being stuck with Rooster for a week ;) Text me when you can!

But the one that had you smiling a little bit more was the one from Bradley.

Bradley ♡: I love you, pretty girl. I promise I will be there with you as soon as it’s done. I’m all yours for the next week, and after that.

You send him a heart emoji back, then realize that the gauzes are all soggy in your mouth, and you once again had to hold back a gag as you leaned over to put your phone back down.

When you bite too hard down on your cheek through the cotton, you wince and accidentally drop your phone onto the floor. It landed on the rug with a thud, and you heard the sounds coming from the kitchen stop.

Seconds later Bradley was standing in the doorway to the living room, a cloth in his hands and he was still chewing something as he asked, “Are you okay?”

You give him a thumbs up before pointing down at your phone.

He looks at it and shakes his head as he tosses the cloth back into the kitchen to find later, before crossing the room and picking up the device. “I knew giving you back your phone would be a bad idea,” he teased as he sat down next to you and gently ran his fingers along your still swollen jaw. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged and blinked away the remaining sleep from your eyes. “Dry,” you said and wince at how raspy your voice sounded.

Bradley nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Okay,” as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Do you feel like trying to drink something?”

You look up at him with a small smile. “Milkshake?”

He laughs and kisses your forehead. “We can go get milkshakes,” he says as he gently tugs on your lower lip with his thumb. “But first we need to change those again.”

You groan as he helps remove the stained gauze from your mouth again and wonder how he wasn’t grossed out by holding them in his hand. You supposed he’s seen and done worse, and he’s not exactly new to having your saliva on him.

He uses his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers and tilts your head so the lamp next to the couch was able to shine somewhat into your mouth. “It doesn’t seem to be bleeding much right now,” he hums and stands up to toss the gauze away. “Do you want to see how it goes without them for a bit? Just until you get something into you. If it starts to bleed again after the shakes, I’ll help you put new ones in.”

You agree instantly, happy to be rid of the uncomfortable cotton for at least a little while. After he throws the used gauze out, he returns back to the living room with his keys and phone in one of his hands, the other free for you to hold as he held it out to you.

He pulls you off the couch and guides you back out to the Bronco, making sure to grab the bag that holds the gauze and meds that you would need to take afterwards. He knew it would be an early night as the medicine would most likely make you sleepy again, and that was why he waited until it was nearing eight before taking you out for milkshakes, so you could go back home and go to bed at a reasonable time.

Bradley couldn’t do much for your discomfort, but he could sure as hell keep your sleep schedule on track.

You leaned your head against the window as he drove into town, your eyes hazy as you listened to his quiet humming of the song that played on the radio. “I like your singing,” you murmur as you look at all the lit up shops that passed by. “You should do it more often.”

Bradley laughed from beside you as he pulled into the drive thru. “I sing all the time for you, baby,”

“I know,” you say and lift your head, looking over at him while he eyed all the flavors to choose from. “But I can never get enough of you, you know that.”

He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles along the bone of your cheek, admiring the way your pretty face looked in the dim lighting of the Bronco. “The feeling is mutual,” he grinned at you when you turned your head to place a kiss to the back of his hand. “What kind are you wanting to get?”

You hum as you lean over the center console, reading over the various flavors. “Strawberry,” you decide and run your nose along the sharp angle of his jaw. “Please.”

After ordering two shakes, and asking for a spoon, Bradley pulled into one of the many available parking spaces. He pulled off the lid of your shake and stuck the plastic spoon in it before handing it over to you.

He watched you carefully as he sipped on his own shake, holding back a laugh at how puffy your face is. Of course, you saw him shift out of the corner of your eye and turn to him with a raised brow. “Sorry,” he grinned and set his shake down in the cup holder. “You look like a chipmunk.”

You just shake your head at him and slurp on the spoon, waiting until the cold substance dripped down your throat before saying, “You’re laughing at me,” you state and hear him snort and cover his mouth. “I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me.”

That just made him laugh harder, and you found yourself smiling at the sound. “I’m sorry,” he says and reaches over to gently caress your swollen cheek. “You still look as hot as ever.”

You roll your eyes and bring another spoonful of the milkshake to your lips. “Liar,”

“I mean it,” he promised, running his fingers over your jaw in a feather light touch before pulling away. “You’re the sexiest chipmunk I’ve ever seen, baby.”

When you laugh loudly, you wince immediately after, and Bradley quickly decides that you’d most definitely be a lot more comfortable at home.

“Alright, I think we should get going. Are you okay to…eat that while I drive?” He asked as he sipped on his chocolate shake. You wave him off and take a much smaller amount on the spoon, knowing that Bradley would go off on you for spilling anything in his precious Bronco, but you also knew he’d wait until after you were feeling better. The thought had a warm feeling spreading all over your body, as did his next words, “Okay, we’ll head home. You should take one of the antibiotics, first.”

You agree, and he holds your shake as you take the pill into your mouth. After rummaging around in the back with his free hand, Bradley hands you a warm water bottle, and he puts a reminder in his head to put the bottle in the fridge once he got home.

“Okay?” He asked when you took back your milkshake.

You nodded and have him a half smile, “It’s probably going to make me tired,”

“I know, that’s a good thing. You should be pretty tired by the time we get back home, and then you can go to bed and sleep off a bit of the pain,” he pointed out as he put the Bronco in reverse. Before he actually started moving, he gave you a serious look. “Do not spill that shake, pretty girl.”

You laugh quietly and give him a side glance as you sipped a bit of the milkshake from the cup.

“I mean it, baby,” he was only half serious in his warning as he started the short ride back home, one hand on the wheel while his other one held his plastic cup. “That cute face will only get you so far.”

You just shake your head and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek that you couldn’t feel yourself do. Your lips were still numb, so you were really trying to be as careful as possible with not spilling your milkshake.

Luckily, you arrived back home without letting a drop hit a single spot in the interior of his Bronco, and Bradley gave you a chocolate tasting kiss as a reward as he led you back up to the house.

Once you were in your room, he helped dress you in one of his shirts and sweats. After concluding that the bleeding had stopped, he decided there was no need to shove move gauze into your mouth, as that would most likely make it start to bleed again.

He pulled back the covers and sat down next to you, smiling down at your emotionless face and tired eyes. “You doing okay?” He asked as he brushed away some of your hair.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, taking his hand in yours and trying to kiss it. He just grinned at your attempt. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Bradley leaned down and kissed your forehead gently. “I always will, you know that,” you nodded as he pulled away and stood up. “Do you want an ice pack for the night? Might help with the swelling.”

After thinking about it, you nod and wait for him to return back into the room with the ice pack. He wrapped it in a dish towel and gently placed it against your jaw before stripping down into just his boxer briefs.

He settles down in bed behind you, hesitant to touch you at the moment in case you needed space. When you just laughed quietly and grabbed his hand so you could wrap his arm around your waist, he inched closer to you and allowed you to rest the ice pack between his shoulder and your jaw. He was glad he put the towel around it, but he also wouldn’t have minded having to feel it unwrapped against his bare shoulder. He’d suck it up for you.

“I love you, pretty girl,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” you mumbled back, snuggling closer to him as the effects of the antibiotics began taking over your body.

As Bradley held you while you slept, he felt glad that he was the one you wanted to look after you. He loved you beyond words and he felt as though this was the beginning of his attempts to even out the balance in your relationship. It was you who constantly looked after him, and though he loved it, he also felt guilty that there weren’t many occasions where he was the one who looked after you.

After spending the day taking care of your every need and being the one person you wanted to see you vulnerable, he decided that after this he would put more effort into showing you how much he appreciated and adored you.

He was ready to move onto a new chapter in his life with you by his side, if the small box tucked away in his box of collectable cards was anything to go by.

All he had to do was hope you’d say yes.

482 notes · View notes

ratoathdentalexcellence · 9 days ago

Text

Comprehensive General Dentistry Services in Ratoath: Your Local Guide

LocatingGeneral Dentistry Near Me is about more than simply finding the closest clinic—it’s about choosing a practice that delivers complete, patient-focused care at every stage of life. In Ratoath, general dentists provide a wide spectrum of preventive, restorative, and cosmetic treatments designed to keep your smile healthy, functional, and confident.

#General Dentistry Near Me #Surgical Tooth Extraction #Dental Implants Ratoath #PRSI Dental Checkup and Clean #Gum Disease Treatment Ratoath #Composite Dental Fillings #Teeth Whitening Services #Mouth Guard Services #Sports Mouth Guard Services #Simple Tooth Extraction #Root Canal Treatment #Wisdom Teeth Removal #Cosmetic Dentistry #Dental Crowns And Bridges #Essex Retainer Services #Denture Addition Services #Denture Reline Services

0 notes

amrass · 5 months ago

Text

My Colm O'Driscoll/Micah Bell ship HCs

I originally posted this on my Twitter (yeah I know, the site's politics are icky as hell, but it's also where all the cool NSFW artists are and also the new, miniature Colm/Micah fandom) but I thought some people here could like it ☺️

Warning: This is a villain/villain ship, and dark. I'll list the SFW HCs first, and then the NSFW ones, and the latter can get intense.

Suggested ship names: Drisbell, O'Bell, Micolm, and Cah. Yes, like the crow sound. CAH! That's my contribution ofc ......

Feel free to reply with your own HCs. List after the cut.

SFW

At the core, there's this weird understanding between them, because both are emotionally numb and need to stay numb to survive as cruel, violent outlaws. They try not to reflect too much about death and damnation but can't help it as they're surrounded by it.

After his brutal upbringing, Micah finds more homeliness and peace with the O'Driscolls than the Van der Lindes. Colm's cruelty is different than his family's, but still familiar enough to feel homely and safer than actual safety would.

A bit like Dutch reminds Micah of his father, Colm reminds Micah of his grandfather. Not only because Colm has that sexy Nosferatu look going on, but because he's got a quiet and sinister influence, and is knowledgeable in torture. He also reacts with pride at Micah's killings, liking it when he is covered head to toe in blood, telling him he's such a good boy.

Colm uses different methods of indoctrination on his boys, and he finds Micah surprisingly easy to deal with. With Micah, simple attention goes a long way, and so do extreme but precise punishments like tooth/fingernail extraction.

They both have a disdain for religion; Colm grew up Roman Catholic, and Micah saw Amos be "snatched up" by a local Pentecostal church. They both secretly enjoy choir music, but rob churches to "compensate" for sometimes sitting outside and listening.

They have a similar sense of black humor. They hate purple things and have a complicated relationship with Colm's brother. They love cocaine, guns and in modern AU, listening to metal together in Colm's car.

NSFW

Colm is an ass-man (same) and his brain just zaps out if he's staring at Micah's ass. Micah learns to manipulate this in turn, wearing tighter pants, but sometimes this backfired because he can’t run away and Colm fucks him so roughly he forgets what he originally wanted lolol.

Micah has an oral fixation (smokes like a chimney from an early age) and secretly loves sucking dick. Colm enjoys having his dick sucked. But sometimes Micah gets way too possessive and keeps sucking after he's come, so Colm has to drag him off by his green neckerchief like a mad dog, and Micah just sticks out his tongue in retaliation before he swallows slowly with triumph.

Colm likes giving Micah piercings as a sign of ownership. Micah is bad at caring for them so they mostly get rejected and scar, which Colm also likes, if not only so he can re-do them.

In the biker AU, Colm once fucked Micah over his motorbike, Micah naked and him in full leather gear, and Micah is still jerking off about that memory twenty years later.

Both enjoy pushing each other's boundaries. Kind of obvious I guess, but the numbness adds a dimension to this where they don't always realize that their own boundaries have been crossed until it's too late. And they have more boundaries within emotional exchanges than sexual ones. This is where the love grows, like a tiny poison tree, unwillingly so for both.

Micah loves shot-gunning cigarette smoke and gets turned on by leather gloves and Colm makes full use of this.

This is the ship at its most advanced stage lmao: Colm likes getting fisted but rarely trusts anyone to let them do it, and Micah gets to experience this once (1) and never feels as powerful and in love as in this moment.

In the Micussy verse (thanks Skibiborg) Colm is so into period sex he acts like a blood hound. Micah crawls under the bed to get away but he's dragged out before Colm has him on the floor. He gets between his legs and chomps down like it's his last meal. Likes blood on his lips, his chin, his shirt, his cock, all over really. Bites Micah's inner thighs and neck just to see if the blood tastes different there. Will probably make out with Micah while he fucks him, endeared by his disgust at tasting himself. "Heady, isn't it?" "D-do ya, ghh, have f-fucking, iron deficiency, boss?"

#amras writes #colm o'driscoll #micah bell #colm x micah #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #rdr2 #red dead fandom

33 notes · View notes

hederasgarden · 1 year ago

Text

Other Characters/Fandoms Masterlist

House of the Dragon

Series

Sins of the Father (Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader | Mature | Ongoing Series)

When the Greens win the Dance of the Dragons, your father must answer for his support of Rhaenyra.

Oneshots

Bloodlust (Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader | Explicit | 1.8K)

After battle, Aemond visits your tent.

The Batman

Everyone’s a Secret (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader | Ongoing | Explicit)

It’s bad enough when your one night stand is later revealed to be the reclusive Bruce Wayne but your life gets infinitely more complicated when photos of that night make the front page news.

Mistakes Were Made (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader | Ongoing | Gen)

When you take the job as Bruce Wayne’s publicist, you’re prepared for some surprises but finding out he’s Batman isn’t one of them. The good news is you’re not fired. The bad news? Batman definitely needs some PR help.

Halo

Oneshots

Everything They Made Me (John 117 x Makee l Explicit l 1.7K)

How weak must she be that a simple kindness undoes her so? (A missing scene from episode 8.)

Moon Knight

Oneshots

Nothing Lasts But Light (Layla El-Faouly x Reader x Marc Spector l Explicit l 3.4K)

You love Layla enough to accept anything, even Marc.

Top Gun

Oneshots

A Lesson in Patience (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Explicit l 1.4K)

Your boyfriend wants to try something new.

Drabbles

Take a Seat (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Explicit | 845)

Rooster invites you to take a seat on his face.

His Goofy Girl (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Gen | 630)

You have an entertaining reaction to the anesthesia used for your wisdom tooth extraction, much to Rooster ‘s amusement and embarrassment.

Vikings Valhalla

Oneshots

New Beginnings (Harald Sigurdsson x F!Reader l Mature l Series on hiatus)

You are chosen to wed King Harald in order to cement the alliance between King Canute’s growing kingdom and Norway.

A Quiet Interlude (King Canute x F!Reader l Explicit l 1.2K)

After the death of Queen Ælfgifu, you become King Canute’s new wife.

Drabbles

Heartbeat (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Explicit l 874)

When your home is attacked, you see a different side of Leif.

Persistence (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Teen l 658)

Many men have come for your hand but Leif is the first you let into your heart.

The Rescue (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Gen l 431)

You hate frat parties but Harald’s new friend might just change your mind. (Modern AU)

Wicked Games (Godwin x OC l Explicit l 662)

The new Elderman of Wessex has met his match with Lady Aida.

♡Main Masterlist♡

126 notes · View notes

crguang · 7 months ago

Note

fav hcs about kafka and black swan?

sfw? let me think… off the top of my head:

kafka not being able to cook is a favorite of mine idk why. the idea of her being terrible in the kitchen while having a picky palate is funny. at most, she can grill and boil things and make simple dishes but she can’t replicate the meals she prefers to eat and that’s just funny to me

she loves jazz. this one just makes sense to me i feel like she can listen to almost anything but if she were to control the aux some jazz would be in her playlist

she knows flower language and a bunch of pager codes

can tie a knot with her tongue

prefers calling over texting because she lowkey loves to talk. if you text her she might not answer but if you call the chances of her picking up are higher

has the habit of moving her index finger around or in circles when she’s lost in thought, like she’s conducting an orchestra

most of her favorite coats are custom made/designed

takes a whole day when she’s shopping because she’s super picky. still ends up with five bags worth of clothes and is always on the lookout for new ones no matter where she is. speaking off, everyone knows her pin cause they need to be on the lookout too (she has multiple credit cards. keeps track of each one)

her favorite lipstick color is peach with a little pink in it

gets quiet when she’s disappointed, sad or annoyed. tho she’ll also petulantly whines and tsks when she’s annoyed (my big baby)

not a words of affirmation girlie if you can’t handle her only telling you she loves you four times in a lifetime just end things😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 master at deflection, if you ask her if she loves you she’ll say shit like “isn’t it obvious?” “what do you think?” girl

SWEET TOOTH. IDC IDC she never says no to cake DIRECT FIREFLY QUOTE. she loves her lollipops

spine tattoo yup… a rose’s stem with thorns ive seen it personally

for swan let’s see…

somewhere on some planet she’s immortalized in art and doesn’t know it. for the amount of times she appears to people in reality or in dreams, i just know there’s an artist who had to draw/paint/sculpt this spirit they swear was tangible one second and disappeared the next

swan is very easy to remember because she stands out a lot by both her looks and her behaviour. people may not know that she’s a memokeeper, but she’s in a lot of people’s memories regardless

i don’t think her being a little stalker is a hc but i’m adding on to it so it kinda is… it’s one of my favorite things about her it’s just so funny to describe it that way 😭 all memokeepers are stalkers by default but swan is a very curious soul, she gets invested and ends up having to reveal herself because she just has to have an interaction with whoever she’s interested in

unlike most memokeepers, swan doesn’t discriminate in terms of what memory holds value. she sees value in everything. she’s more drawn by the feelings attached to memories than the memories themselves sometimes. a moment of quietude where nothing is said, all is still and everything is felt? so nice. she extracts it

she can call her s/o every pet name under the sun and somehow not be cringe about it. it’s a super power. maybe it’s because she’s so sexy and that voice is so sultry that if she called me some shit like “baby cakes” i’d giggle

some of her favorite moments are when her s/o is just about to fall asleep. i feel like she’d love to be the reason they get a good night’s rest and it’s story time (she loves telling stories)

a gift giverrr, since she sees value in all discarded and overlooked things it’s not rare for her to bring back objects that “have witnessed a lot” and that she thinks her s/o would like

fav cuddle position is being on the bottom with her s/o on top of her

she is soooo calm. so zen. so good at dealing with stressful people and stressful situations. not above giving her s/on a nice massage either but thats just an excuse to get her hands on them

doesn’t feel thirst or hunger but she does have a favorite drink. i dont know what it is but i know she has one ok. she was drinking a little too often with acheron

might indulge you if you ask her to show you her memokeeper tricks. mostly the stuff about her getting into tvs and billboards and paintings

loves to dance even if it’s just twirling her s/o around in the living room

smells like incense or specific candles

she lovesss touch and physical contact. always touching her s/o in some way. when they’re alone she takes off her gloves for it

i cant think of any more but i probably have a thousand that i write in unconsciously honestly

#sat answers

20 notes · View notes

pikxelbit · 8 months ago

Text

Still not sure what to name this...

Chapter 2: Broken

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,889 words

Chapter prompt: Start of repair

Turbo x Reader | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Turbo... A name turned to a cautionary tale. Tragic in a sense how everyone in the arcade speaks of him in the likeness of a ghost. Presumed dead, but still alive in the words of others.

As much as a lot of people deemed him obnoxious, nobody would have guessed he was capable of causing a horrific incident. Two games gone in one day, something that would forever stain the arcades history.

A funeral was held shortly after what had happened. To serve respect for the dead as well as to honor what has been, what is, and what could have been, almost everyone contributed.

Right after though, everyone was left uneasy. The two empty socket's giving a sad and mournful tone as the Game Central Station stood still for a moment in silence. Turbo's tracks leaving a message to be passed on for decades.

Well, at least it should have...

A few days have passed, the incident still fresh on a few people's minds. Although, 'Turbo Time' has been presumed to have been dismantled by now, that wasn't all true...

Right after the games were unplugged, both games were transferred somewhere. Mr. Litwak didn't want to just give these games away for a simple profit. So he gave his niece and nephew a call, a pair of two enthusiast's of modern technology.

Sending the games to the twins, Mr. Litwak thanked them greatly for doing something like this. Smiling, they only replied with, "Honestly you don't even need to thank us. We should be thanking you," one of the twins, Kiara, spoke first.

"Yeah, we need to test a software perfect for this type of thing anyways so it's not a big deal," Danny, continued.

Mr. Litwak still thanked them though, bidding the twins goodbye right after as they told their mom it was time to go. Waving Mr. Litwak goodbye, their mom started to drive back home.

The twins are two clever teens. Both keen on the science of technology, and now they were presented with the opportunity to try and fix two arcade games! Next year they'll go right off to college, so this was something they wanted to work on for now, like a test run.

___

A few days passed by, the twins, tried their best to see what they could do to fix the games. But upon closer inspection it seems though that both games somehow got busted.

Taking apart both Turbo Time and Road Blasters, they discovered how outdated Turbo Time's engine was. As well as how its own engine seemed to be close to breaking down, if this was left running for a few more months, this could have caught on fire.

While for Road Blasters, a few parts of the game managed to shut down, some becoming utterly useless as the 'glitch' somehow caused a few things inside to break completely.

Out of the two though, Road Blasters seemed to be the only one they could fix, well if we were speaking on the physical parts of the game. Broken peices from Road Blasters can easily be replaced when compared to an outdated game like Turbo Time.

Software-wise though, it was complicated. RoadBlaster's software was filled with a few errors and complications, while for Turbo Time, it's software was doing just fine. For the reason, well you all did manage to make your own theories but so far all of you didn't exactly have a good guess. Although it would be easier to fix these games if the causation was identified, you all just decided to suck it up and do your best. The main goal is to fix as much as possible after all.

Refusing to let Turbo Time go though, the twins still faught tooth and nails just to figure something out. Kiara, being empathetic enough for a random game, decided to extract the character's out of Turbo Time instead of just giving up. Plugging both games into a computer, they managed to extract the characters from both games into it.

Through the computer, they could easily start to inspect the games codes as well as to try and even tinker here and there.

Thinking about it, perhaps they could mesh both games together, to at least give some purpose to the assets taken from Turbo Time and to not let their effort's go to waste. It would take some time to make both games codes compatible, but it was a challenge they're willing to go through. With their trusty software as well, they figured perhaps this could be done in a few months.

So taking the challenge on, Kiara took charge of fixing the hardware while Danny went on to tinker with the codes. Working together, they wanted to finish this before going to college.

___

After another day of school, Danny quickly headed to the garage to find his sister working on Road Blasters. It's been a while now and it's safe to say they've been slowly making progress.

"How's the machine?" Danny asks, taking a seat near the desk.

"It's going great! Finally replaced that darned screen with a new one. I'm just looking through the wires for now. Maybe I'll go buy some tomorrow because a few of the really thin ones got busted," she exclaimed with a smile.

"Whoa, that's great! What if I go with? I've been planning on buying a new mouse for this computer." Danny replied, gesturing to the old looking mouse.

"Yeah, you definitely should get a new one," Kiara replied nodding, "How about you? How's the little guys going?"

"Well it's been a few days, but I managed to fix up the environment from Road Blasters. With the help of our trusty assistant," Danny conveyed, opening the program used to process the codes, "As for the characters, I managed to fix a few things. I made some of them to stop glitching, but yeah, that's all for now at least," he finished, opening another window filled with the various characters from each games.

"Hey, that's a lot of progress, good work!" She stood up, to inspect the monitor, "How about our other project? Is the software doing good?"

"Yeah, still an early version but our trusty assistant is already doing so good-"

"Kiara! Danny! Dinner!" They heard their dad shout from afar.

"In a minute!" They both replied in unison.

Quickly, Kiara tried to fix a few things that could be a hazard when stepped on or touched without precaution, his brother following suit. Hearing another call, now from their mother, they hurriedly finished up.

However, before leaving the room, Danny closed all the windows from the computer screen. Being in a hurry though, he missed closing one of them.

___

Left open in the dark, the monitor let's artificial light seep through the room. Nearly peaceful, the computer continues to give off a sound of constant whirring from deel inside.

Right then, something else starts to move. Slowly blinking, his eyes tries it's best to adjust to the rooms lighting. All he could see was a chair nearby and seemingly a desk.

"What is this place?" He asked nobody, wondering how it's even possible that he's alive.

He remembers it all clearly, the loud screeching of tires as one of the driver's tried to swerve away from a direct hit. He was sure he was going to die...

Is this heaven? Or perhaps hell..?

Further trying to investigate, he tries to move. But looking to the side all he could see is dark nothingness in which he's seemingly trapped in. Where is he? He wondered, stepping cautiously towards what he thought is the screen.

Then he heard something click, and just like that, someone came to answer.

"Hello..?" He spoke hesitantly.

"Well, hello there," you spoke out.

"I can't see you, where are you?" He asks, trying once more to look around in confusion.

You are right beside the window he's at. Looking inside, you see Turbo, looking around.

Once he sees you, he slightly glitches. Yelping in surprise, he fell down. Either because of your sudden appearance, or the random glitch that occured.

"Who are you?" He spoke, trying to get up, but struggling to do so as he continued to glitch slightly with each movement he made.

"I am Y/N. An assistant for coding, developing games, websites and other branches of technologies. I can help in many ways, a few to be mentioned are, helping in running diagnostics, looking after projects, and even fixing simple bugs," you spoke, almost in a completely flat tone as you helped him up.

"Okay then..." Slightly weirded out, he took his arm from you. "You're an assistant... So where am I?" He asks, still slightly suspicious and observant of you. Looking at how you acted and looked, you moved elegantly, your fancy clothes becoming evidence to the information you've said earlier.

"You are in a computer placed in a garage, currently inside the home of my creators," you answer, your voice finally giving some sort of emotion to it.

"Can you tell me why I'm even here?" He asks curiously. Why was he here..? He expected it to be done. Right after the crash, he knew it was all ending. Now though...

"Well, you're here because, as you have experienced, you are broken. Along with other characters, you are now currently being repaired," you replied.

"Repaired..." He mumbles to himself.

"Yes, by me and my creators. Danny and Kiara, the niece and nephew of Mr. Litwak, your previous owner correct?" You asked, tilting your head to the side.

Once you mentioned 'Mr. Litwak', his eyes widen. "Huh," was all he said. Gazing back at him, you noticed a smile slightly grace his face.

He never expected to actually still have a second chance in life. But thinking back though, as he gazes to his palms, it glitches slightly.

"When was the start of doing all this?" He asked, looking back at you.

"About, only a couple of days ago. We managed to put you and other characters into this computer. I'm helping Danny repair the codes that might have been damaged, and Kiara is taking charge of the hardwares," you answered.

But then, your conversation gets interrupted suddenly as Danny proceeds into the room. Opening the lights, he sees the screen of the computer still open.

Watching him walk down to the desk, Turbo suddenly didn't know what to do. When someone would approach the screen of his game, his own code would instruct him to quickly get to his kart. "Uhh..." He mumbled under his breath, as he froze up.

Noticing you up and about, he sat down on the desk. "Oh, hello there..." He spoke to loud towards the screen.

"Welcome back, was your dinner tasty tonight?" You asked casually.

"Yeah, it was good. What are you doing?" He asked, now noticing Turbo right inside the window.

"Well, I noticed this window was left open so I went ahead and looked over it," you replied.

He nodded, before speaking once more,

"We were supposed to test run a few of your skills again today but I have homework tonight so, I'll postpone it for now," he scratched his head, his eyes gazing back to Turbo for a moment before standing up.

"Well, hopefully there's more time to be spared tomorrow. But yeah, hate to cut this conversation short but, I need to go now," Danny spoke, standing up as he dragged the mouse to close the window where Turbo is at. Before he could, you whispered to Turbo a quick bid of goodbye before moving out of the window yourself.

Surprised, Turbo slightly glitched before Danny made the window disappear.

"Okay, see you tomorrow Danny," you spoke, before completely disappearing back into your respective file, feeling the computer slowly stop working as the darkness engulfed the screen.

#x reader #x you #turbo x you #turbo x reader #wreck it ralph #turbo wreck it ralph #turbo wir x reader #possible slow burn #turbotastic #turbo wir #turbotime #turbo #au #redemption arc #slow

22 notes · View notes